A Tarnished Heart

by Leslie Dicken

  Her father shook his head. “Go.”

  “No.” She sighed, glancing at the chimney tops of Blackhawk Manor. She could not bear it. She could not see Markham again. “I cannot go. We have not the money for the expense, nor can I spare any more time away from you.”

  His good hand found hers and squeezed it. “Go.”

  “I will seal the signed document I have and put it in the post for London. But I will not go to deliver the news.”

  “Better, Zee. Better for you.”

  Her throat closed in at the sight of his tears. “I know, Papa. I know you did it for me to have a better life. But it’s all over with now. I can’t marry him knowing he does it only to save himself. I want him to love me.”

  Yes, she could marry Edmund without love, her feelings toward him had never been more than infatuation. But not Markham. It was one thing for a marriage to have no love between either party, but quite another for only one half to feel it.

  Lizzie rose. “I shall get supper started.”

  Papa resumed petting the cat. “Letter?”

  “Yes, before I go to sleep I shall write Lord Markham a letter telling him of your deception. The midwife’s signed note, along with yours, should be enough to prove to anyone what really happened.”

  Lizzie entered the house but then stopped short at the sight of her mother’s painting. It brought her back to the day at Woodsley Park, when Markham first took her.

  But then the layers of deceptions and lies stole the pleasant memory from her. Her mother’s, her father’s, Markham’s. Over and over those she loved lied to her. How many lives were destroyed by one man’s noble purpose?

  Markham’s painful defense haunted her. You have no idea what it has been like for me. To realize you are living a lie. And then have to worry for your son’s future.

  And it was all for naught. The truth was: Markham had slid from his mother’s womb after, not before, her father pronounced them married. He was the true earl from the beginning.

  He couldn’t believe it.

  Markham left Lord Shaftsbury’s residence feeling better than he had in too long a time. It had been Miss Parker’s wish to educate the Long family and other children such as they. And yet, for all her attempts, she was not able to do the job adequately. Now, if she were still here, she wouldn’t need to take the responsibility for their educational welfare.

  Markham had just seen to it that a Ragged School was set up by the Docks and other areas even poorer. The Long children and others like them would have the chance at school. Soon they would be reading and writing and learning so much more than how to survive each day.

  A pang struck his throat as he climbed in his carriage. He would have liked Lizzie to have been a part of that meeting, to get involved in the Ragged Schools Union. She would have volunteered to teach or organize a school.

  Markham gave his next destination to the driver and settled against the seat. Today would be a busy day, but one that was necessary. Overdue, in fact. Today he would settle his responsibilities. Fear would no longer guide him.

  The butler opened the door of the grand four-storey house in Piccadilly and ushered him into the parlor. The last time Markham had stood in this room, Lucinda had begun her tirade and demands. Anger had pulsed through his blood, reminders of the trappings and lies of his situation.

  Now he felt nothing but pity for the woman. Her greed had brought her to an empty marriage, her schemes had brought her only failure in the end.

  “Lord Markham.”

  He turned at the voice. Lord Fallston was a man of prestige, with a shock of white hair and sharp brown eyes. He stood nearly six feet, with very little rounding to show for his nearly seventy-plus years.

  “Good afternoon, Lord Fallston. I pray you do not mind my call. I have something for you.”

  The older man’s eyebrows lifted but he waved him to a chair. “Please sit.”

  But Markham stood. He retrieved an object from his pocket. “I have come to give you what you are owed. And ask your forgiveness for my deception.”

  The Marquess accepted the band, staring at it with quizzical eyes. “I do not understand. I have the ring already.”

  “Ah, but what you have is a forgery. At the time, I could not bear to part with the family heirloom, so I had another made.”

  “And now?”

  The soft tapping of shoes on the marble flooring sounded behind them. Markham turned to see Lucinda standing in the doorway, her lips thin. Her beauty had waned in the last week, or perhaps Markham saw her in a new light. Either way, the shadows under eyes and paleness of her skin gave an indication of her duress.

  Lord Fallston did not address his wife or in any way make note of her appearance. The strain between them was evident. Had it always been that way? Markham had assumed Lord Fallston was madly in love with his wife and would do whatever possible to please her. Perhaps that was not the case at all.

  Markham returned his attention the Marquess. “And now I have come to realize that my integrity means more than the piece of jewelry. As an honorable man, I am setting out to make right what I have done wrong.”

  “I see,” Lord Fallston replied. “Wait here.”

  He left the room without even a nod in his wife’s direction.

  “Why have you come here?” Lucinda said, her words a bitter chill against the brightness of the morning.

  “You heard my reasons.”

  She shook her head. “You came here to gloat over me. To prove you won in the end.”

  “I see no winners, Lady Fallston.”

  “Do you have any idea the embarrassment I have endured with Lady Harriet’s family? First they witness you chase after that country mouse and now with her gone, you still do not seek their daughter.”

  “She was never of my choosing.”

  “I should tell my husband the truth of your birth.”

  Markham shrugged, he no longer had secrets to hide. “Go on then.”

  “Why? You will then tell him of my plans to have you back?”

  “No. There is no need to tell the man what he already knows. You may tell the world, Lady Fallston, for if you don’t, I plan to myself.”

  Her husband returned to the room, preventing any retort that may have danced on her tongue.

  Lord Fallston extended his arm before Markham. “Take these, they are yours.” Two rings dropped into Markham’s hand.

  “I don’t understand. Why are you returning them to me?”

  “They are yours,” he repeated simply.

  “But you made a wager with my brother. I repay that now.”

  “I made the wager at my wife’s request.” He glanced over at her. “But I see no need to keep a man’s heirloom from his future generations. Your honor has impressed me. Take both rings. Let your son play with the forgery until the day he is able to wear the genuine one.”

  That day might never come but it didn’t matter. Markham had done the right thing and had been rewarded for it. He would now continue his journey to rectify the lies and deceits.

  “Thank you.” He nodded at the Marquess. “Good day to you, Lord Fallston.” He passed by Lucinda, her jasmine scent pleasant today rather than nauseating. “Good day, Lady Fallston.”

  Markham left the house to the street, where clouds had given way to a glorious blue sky. He had two more stops to make before his day was complete.

  Lucas bounced on the seat, his eyes wider than two coins. His toothless smile shone brighter than a thousand suns. More excited than the train ride to London, more thrilled than their trip to Derby Day at Epsom even more elated than the visit to the Crystal Palace. Markham’s heart stung at such exuberance. Both for denying his son this pleasure and for not experiencing it himself.

  It was only since Lizzie had come and then gone that Markham realized what fear and guilt had done to him. Losing Emily had left him vulnerable. He could not withstand another heartache. To protect himself he built a fortress, a mask of stoicism, and kept all who could love
him away.

  Lizzie had endured the same pain. She too felt responsible for her sister’s death and yet she allowed herself the ability to love. She saw past the emotionless disguise and fell in love with the man.

  She’d forced him to face his son, giving him the opportunity to treasure the boy’s qualities. Markham had thought he knew what love was. He thought he loved Emily when he married her, he assumed he loved Lucas. But he had been wrong.

  Love meant hurting when others are in pain, experiencing delight when they are happy, going beyond a comfortable level of security to ensure they are safe. Love means feeling empty, lost and alone when they are gone.

  Markham loved the dark-haired, toothless boy sitting across from him. But there was still room in his heart for more. He needed color in his world again.

  The carriage rolled to a stop at the familiar door in Wapping, but today the odors and sights would not deter him. Markham had a new plan. He would do more today than bring Lucas by for a visit.

  He would take all of them to Abingdon.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Lizzie stood at her front door, impatiently tapping her foot. Her father’s stubbornness would make them late for the church. She’d made Edmund promise that the clergyman from the next village, a good friend of his, not to announce the banns until she and her father had arrived. And at the rate Papa was moving, she believed her father heard her make that promise.

  Papa refused to allow her to give him much help this morning. He insisted each day on doing more and more himself. She worried he’d have another apoplexy but he claimed he was making himself stronger.

  Humph. He was just being stubborn.

  “Papa. Do come on, the service will start without us.”

  “Wait, Zee.” He touched her arm. “’Pology. Must, you must forgive.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “I do, Papa. I forgive you.”

  “Earl? Forgive me?”

  “He will,” she said to encourage him. But would Markham? If he ever came back home, would he forgive her father for his misguided good intentions?

  Her father nodded with a crooked smile and continued his slow progress.

  There was no rushing him. Sighing, she adjusted the recent flower clippings in the vase. The hyacinths of two months ago had been replaced with rosebuds. She removed a glove and caressed their petals, their smooth texture bringing back memories that should stay buried.

  Markham’s hothouse, the feel of his warm flesh.

  Her heart ached and she released the flower.

  “I’ll wait out front,” she called and stepped out into the pleasant morning.

  Sunshine brightened the view of her garden and warmed her skin. Green hills rose up to the vibrant blue sky. It seemed unfair that such a beautiful day would begin the end to her future. She’d rather a terrible storm accompany the event.

  Lizzie lowered herself to the step, whispering for the kitten. She lifted her head at the nearby rustle in the trees. But then something else caught her eye.

  A carriage. It descended the hill and turned down the path toward them. Nothing else was down this way other than her father’s cottage and Edmund’s a bit further on. No one came this way unexpectedly. Never.

  The horses trotted to the dirt clearing in front of her. Her breath lodged in her throat. The emblem belonged to Lord Markham.

  Oh God, it couldn’t be him. She didn’t believe it.

  The coachman leaped down and came around. Lizzie’s pulse slammed in her ears as he opened the door. Then her heart stopped completely.

  Markham emerged from the carriage, his dark head ducking to clear the door frame. The sight of his mysterious, black gaze and tender lips brought a hot sting to her eyes. She bit her lip.

  “Miss Parker…”

  Lizzie whimpered at the sound of his voice. She never realized how much she’d missed hearing him. How much he’d become a part of whom she was.

  “Markham.” She cleared the sob tickling in her throat. “What-what are you doing here?”

  He grinned. But it was a sheepish, almost shy smile. No emotionless mask imprisoned his features. She could see hope reflected in his eyes—and something else.

  “I’ve come back for you,” he said at last. “If you’ll have me.”

  “Come-come back for me?” She sputtered over the words. It didn’t seem real. “But what of Lady Fallston? Lady Harriet?”

  His gaze darkened. “To the devil with them.” He came forward, but stopped within an arm’s reach. “I want you. I can’t stop thinking about you. You left and took all the color from my world.”

  It didn’t make sense. He was the earl now, the true earl. Why would he want someone like her?

  “There must be something else behind this.” Lizzie lifted her chin. “How could I believe you now? Why would I think you’d not break my heart a third time?”

  His lips bowed. “Come!” he shouted to the carriage.

  The door opened again and out stepped a young boy with bright yellow hair.

  “Miz Parker?”

  Oh, God, could this be Albert? Still thin from too little nutrition, there was no mistaking the changes from the boy Lizzie last saw. More than just clean hair and sparkling eyes, Albert’s face revealed hope.

  After him, came an exuberant Lucas.

  Lizzie felt her eyes fill but she could not speak. Numbness overtook all sensibilities.

  Lucas came forward and opened his hand. “Look, Miss Parker, it’s my present from Albert.” A slightly chipped marble and a polished riverbed stone glistened under the sun’s rays.

  She swallowed and found her voice. “They-they are beautiful. What a treasure.”

  Her eyes lifted to Markham. “You brought them all back?”

  Markham nodded and reached for her hands. She allowed him to take them, still reeling from this sudden shift in events. Elizabeth and the children were here, in Abingdon. Could it possibly be true? Had Markham really changed this much?

  “I made a choice,” he said. “I could no longer see myself trapped in that world, manipulated by others. My honor and integrity mean more to me than a title.”

  He lifted a finger to brush her cheek. “You, Miss Parker, have been the only non-selfish person among us. You have taught me to feel, to want, to love.”

  Could this be true? Had he finally learned how to love? Lizzie bit back her whimper. “But what of my letter to you?”

  Markham’s eyebrows knitted. “Letter?”

  “About your birth. Papa had me travel to your birthplace. There I found the midwife who verified that my father had been lying since your birth. He wed your parents first. Markham, you are not a bastard, you are the true earl.”

  His black eyes stared at her, unseeing and remote. She feared he’d pull away in an instant and be gone. But he had a right to know the truth. He must plan his future on authentic facts.

  But then he laughed. She’d never heard him laugh. The glorious deep chortle echoed in the trees and the children giggled with him. “Oh, that is amazing indeed.”

  “I understand if you would want to reconsider.”

  Markham reached into his waistcoat pocket. “Reconsider? Hardly. The title, the name, the money—they all mean nothing if I don’t have you by my side. I don’t care about any of it. I only care about you, my little fairy.”

  “My father…he wants to ask your forgiveness for what he’s done.”

  “Forgiveness? He brought you to me, I should be thanking him.” He held his father’s signet ring. “I want you to have this, for you are my one true love.”

  Lizzie stared into those bottomless eyes, searching for restraint or deceit. But in those depths she saw her reflection, along with pure emotions. No mask, no reserve. He truly wanted her.

  “I love you…Lizzie.”

  Eyes blurring, she fell into his arms, tilting her head so he could capture her lips. Wonderful heat blazed through every cell in her body. His powerful embrace numbed any resistance, his kiss stole her reason. No long
er would there be a need to resist him. She had found where she belonged. Right here in Abingdon. With Lord Markham.

  The cottage door slammed. “Zee! Come!”

  But she didn’t let Markham go. Not this time. The third time was the charm.

  “God’s plan,” her father said behind her with a satisfied sigh. And He was right.

  About the Author

  To learn more about Leslie Dicken, please visit www.lesliedicken.com.

  Send an email to Leslie at leslie@lesliedicken.com. You can also follow her at twitter: http://twitter.com/LeslieDicken or friend her on Facebook.

  Look for these titles by Leslie Dicken

  Now Available:

  Beauty Tempts the Beast

  Writing as Jordanna Kay:

  The Price of Discovery

  Taboo

  Is the enemy of her enemy a friend…or a beast?.

  Beauty Tempts the Beast

  © 2009 Leslie Dicken

  Lord Ashworth is scarred by a night of terror years ago that left his face in ruins and his life in shreds. He hides in Silverstone Manor, using rumors that paint him as a horrible, murdering monster to keep visitors at bay. Yet he can’t shake the feeling that the rumors might be true. He tells himself it’s better this way. If his memories ever resurface, at least he will be the only one hurt by them.

  The woman on his doorstep, however, simply refuses to fear him. That’s not only an oddity, it’s a threat to his secret…and his heart.

  Vivian Suttley has seen the face of evil more than once in her young life. She’s on the run from the latest, a cruel man determined to force her to marry him. Whatever the whispers about the reclusive Ashworth, surely it’s nothing compared to the bleak, violent future she leaves behind.

  Ashworth saved her once before, and he’s her last hope for refuge. Yet she wonders if she’s truly safer at Silverstone—or if she has just made the biggest mistake of her life.

  Warning: This book contains a lot of sexual tension and a several sexual scenes, have a fan ready!