The Dark Regency Series: Boxed Set

by Chasity Bowlin

  “The great libertine and the frigid spinster! Your cock would freeze before you ever got her thighs parted!” The words were full of venom as she turned away, stalking towards the house.

  Michael watched her go with a mixture of horror and relief. It was no wonder she’d been such good friends with Elise; he thought. When she was out of sight, he turned to the balcony and the pale form of Miss Barrows. She steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. He moved to stand beneath the balcony, and in his best impression of a lovesick calf said, “What light through yonder window breaks, it is the East and Juliet is the sun!”

  She still did not look at him, but muttered something that sounded vaguely like “Arrogant ass.” He bit back a chuckle and considered his next course of action. In for a penny, he thought, and began to climb the tree that grew adjacent to the balcony, thankful for its convenient placement.

  When he reached the balcony, he peered over the stone rail into a pale face. In the night, her brown eyes appeared black, shining like obsidian. The silvery light was kind to her, illuminating her alabaster skin and highlighting the lovely curves of her face. Her hair spilled over her shoulder in a braid that was nearly as thick as his wrist.

  She was infinitely appealing, and he wished he could blame it on the moonlight, but he suspected it was something else altogether. He noted that she wore only a nightdress and a wrapper. It was an unusual choice for the weather. Perhaps spying was not her intent after all.

  He chuckled, “Have you locked yourself out?”

  “Shh,” she hissed and glanced quickly in the window. “You must be quiet,” she whispered, “And you must leave at once.”

  “I’ve only just arrived,” he protested.

  She finally looked at him, only to shush him again. “Be quiet!”

  Michael smiled, “Why are you spying on me, fair Juliet?”

  She glanced over her shoulder again, peering into the room behind her and whatever she had seen reassured her enough to answer. “It isn’t spying! I was here first! Now you must go back inside before we are both caught!”

  Michael didn’t listen. He gripped one of the limbs of the tree and hauled himself up, climbing higher until they were face to face. He looked past her into the room and what he saw made his blood run cold.

  Lord Rupert was inside the room, asleep in a chair. “Why is your brother in law in your chamber?” She didn’t answer, but he hadn’t expected her to.

  There were a very few plausible explanations for the situation, but only one was likely. It was also infuriating. He might not always adhere to the mandates of proper behavior, but he had never made advances on a woman in his household, and certainly never to any woman when those advances were so obviously unwelcome. But since his night blooming rose seemed somewhat skittish, he kept his tone light and teasing. “So, this is his room and you are a dirty, little sneak, spying on him, just as you spied on me. Or this is your room, and you’re hiding from a drunken Lothario… Which is it?”

  Abigail glanced behind her again, assuring herself that Rupert slumbered on, “It’s the latter! And I wasn’t spying on you. I have no other option, but to be out here!”

  He glanced in the room again. “So, it would seem. Tell me, fair Juliet, does your sister know what her husband is about?” He feared that he knew the answer to that already.

  “It’s none of your concern,” she said, sharply.

  Her reply confirmed his fears. Lavinia was well aware of her husband’s intentions. The realization that Allerton’s recklessness and his own carelessness had put her firmly in Rupert’s grasp did not sit well with him. “Has your dear brother-in-law been successful in his attempts to rob you of your virtue, Miss Barrows?”

  “This is terribly improper and you must leave at once!”

  Even in the dim light, the heightened color of her cheeks was obvious. He couldn’t help but find her amusing. She was sitting on the balcony in her night clothes advising him of what was proper. Her behavior was quite at odds with her current predicament. But then he supposed that if she were a typical female, she would have succumbed to a fit of vapors, and been both ravished and ruined. He had to admire her ingenuity, if nothing else.

  She shifted, and he saw her bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her nightgown. It reminded him of just how perilously cold it was outside, especially when one was not properly outfitted. She had to be freezing.

  The wind had picked up, and the temperature had dropped considerably that day. Tooms, his valet, whose joints predicted the weather with shocking accuracy or so he had been told, was preparing for snow. His amusement, though not entirely abated, was somewhat displaced by a concern that was somewhat disturbing in its intensity. “How long have you been out here?”

  She honestly had no idea. “I came up right after dinner… Rupert followed not long after.”

  Michael recalled Rupert making his excuses and leaving them standing in the library, which meant that she had been out there for nearly an hour. He wanted nothing more than to open her window, enter that room and beat her brother-in-law senseless. While that might salvage her virtue, it would do little for her reputation. It would do even less for his bachelorhood.

  “Can you climb down this tree?” he asked.

  “Of course, I can, but where shall I go? You’ve seen what is taking place down there!”

  She would argue that the day was night, he thought. “Then climb down, and let me worry about that.”

  “Come into my parlor said the spider,” she muttered.

  He chuckled again. She was no fool, his Juliet. “I have no designs on your virtue. Young, marriageable women terrify me, quite frankly. But I cannot allow you to sit here on this balcony and freeze to death either. And as your own chamber is currently occupied, we will simply have to find you another one.”

  Michael watched her warring with the decision. After a moment, she stood and carefully tied her night rail about her knees before stepping over the rail and reaching for the branch. He would have assisted her but knew that she would not appreciate the gesture. Instead, he simply stayed close to her should she have problems.

  With her night rail tied about her knees, her bottom was perfectly revealed to him, and he had to admit, it was an enticing image. He climbed down slowly, with her following, giving him a lovely view all the way to the ground, which did nothing to relieve the state that Lavinia had discovered with her unwanted attentions. Michael was almost grateful when they reached the ground. He helped her down and led her to a set of French doors. “What room is on the other side of these doors?”

  “It’s the morning room, but Lavinia never uses it. She keeps it closed up most of the time… and these doors are kept locked!”

  He produced a small leather case from his pocket and opened it to reveal several gleaming silver tools.

  “You’re a housebreaker!” she gasped.

  He smiled, “Yes, I am a housebreaker, amongst other things, but I am not a thief.”

  “What other reason does one have to break into a house?” she demanded skeptically.

  “Midnight trysts,” he replied. It was not an entirely truthful response, but it was a safe one.

  “That is a likely story,” she mumbled.

  Michael grinned, enjoying her caustic wit. “It was a skill I acquired during the war, dear Juliet. Not all strategic maneuvers occur on the battlefield!” The lock sprang with a quiet snick, and he opened the doors, ushering her inside. He crossed to the other entrance and made sure that the door was securely locked before turning to the more immediate need for warmth.

  He made quick work of a laying a fire in the hearth, before turning to study her. It was a dangerous thing that every time he looked at her; she appeared lovelier than the last. “The next time you feel the need to hide on your balcony, please have the foresight to dress more warmly.”

  She gave him a baleful stare. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  Miss Barrows was a bit on the prickly side, but he rather liked
that about her. He didn’t have to question whether or not she meant what she said. “Do I not get a boon, fair Juliet, for coming to your assistance?”

  “What sort of boon?” she asked and her expression was suitably dubious.

  Her suspicions, he admitted, were well founded. He was quite tempted to breach the last defenses of propriety. But he would not. Instead, he made a more innocent request. “It’s simple enough. I wish to see your hair unbound.”

  “That’s all?”

  His request had obviously confused her. In that, she wasn’t alone. “That’s all I will ask, but if you wish to offer more, I would be only too happy to accept.”

  Abby was confounded by him. He was reputed to be the worst sort of libertine, and yet she sat in a room with him, unchaperoned, and the only touches that had passed between them had been completely chaste. Still, he was too charming by far, and she had little trust for charming men. With another baleful stare, she reached for the ribbon that bound the thick braid. Her fingers were still stiff from the cold, and horribly abused from her climb. She fumbled with the ribbon, not quite able to manage the simple task.

  “Allow me,” he said, his large hands covering hers.

  Abby shivered as his callused fingers brushed the delicate skin of the backs of her hands. He did not have the hands of a nobleman. They were rough; the skin darkened by the sun. He was a study in contradictions, and every last one of them left her unsettled.

  She marveled at the gentleness of his fingers as he deftly untied the ribbons and combed his fingers through her hair. She’d heard the compliments, of course. She knew that her hair was her best feature, and that was why she typically kept it pulled back so tightly. The dark strands settled over her shoulders, falling to her waist in thick waves. She could tell from the dark light in his eyes that he was enjoying the sight of her. It warmed her far more than the fire.

  He clasped a lock of her hair, the strands winding about and between his fingers as he tested the silken texture. “It is a crime to hide such beauty.”

  The timbre of his voice had changed, becoming deeper and with an added note that she could not fully identify, but she responded to it immediately. Her pulse quickened, and there didn’t seem to be enough air in the room. The man was a menace; she thought. Was it any wonder that he was renowned for being a seducer of women?

  “You must go,” she said. Her voice was free of censure but infused with panic. He unsettled her, and there was no point in trying to hide it. She could clearly see from the expression on his handsome face that he was well aware of her panic, and it seemed he shared some bit of it, as well. There was no protest from him. He stepped back, letting go of her hair with apparent reluctance.

  “Of course. Thank you for a diverting evening, Juliet.”

  “Abigail,” she corrected.

  He chuckled, opening the door, “A rose by any other name, my dear.” But before he could walk out, a scream split the night.

  Chapter Four

  Michael went to the garden, where the scream had originated. Most of the other guests had arrived before him and were gathered around the fallen body of Lord Allerton. Michael knew immediately that his skill as a physician would not be required. Lord Allerton had been struck about the head repeatedly. Blood had already stopped flowing from the gashes, but enough of it was pooled beneath the body to indicate that the loss was catastrophic.

  He felt the weight of suspicious stares. It didn’t help that he’d been one of the last to arrive and that his disappearance from the drawing room had been noted. Squire Blevins, the local magistrate, pointed an accusing finger at him. “You quarreled with this man prior to his death, Lord Ellersleigh. What have you to say for yourself?”

  “I did not quarrel with him. He attempted to quarrel with me, and I walked away,” Michael said succinctly.

  Lavinia spoke next, spite tainted her words, “You came here to the garden after he all but accused you of cheating. Perhaps he followed you in an attempt to force a confrontation. It would appear that he succeeded.”

  That was more than enough for the squire. He puffed out his chest before turning back to face Michael. “If you cannot provide someone to account for your whereabouts, Viscount Ellersleigh, as magistrate, I will have no choice but to take you into custody,” the squire said, his tone quite firm.

  A sick feeling settled into the pit of Michael’s stomach, along with a sneaking suspicion. Lavinia had been in the garden as well. He didn’t doubt that she possessed the necessary coldness to do murder, but did she physically possess the strength to bludgeon a man to death? Of course, it wouldn’t really matter who was guilty if the local constabulary had decided to see him hang for it. “Squire Blevins, there are any number of guests here with whom Lord Allerton was on less than harmonious terms.”

  “Yes, and I was in the same room with the lot of them excepting yourself, my lord.”

  “That is hardly a sound reason to convict a man, Squire.”

  It was his Juliet’s voice that split the darkness. Michael turned to see Abby strolling into the garden. She had donned a heavy cape over her nightgown and wrapper as well as a pair of slippers. He could see the familiar lace hem beneath the cloak, she’d found slippers to cover her bare feet. Her hair had been hastily re-braided, and a few errant strands curled against her neck. She gave him a sidelong glance, and it spoke volumes. If he needed an alibi, she could provide it, but at what cost?

  “Begging your pardon, Miss Barrows, but legal matters are a bit beyond your expertise,” the squire responded, his tone condescending.

  Michael watched as she leveled the Squire with a look that made the man squirm. She lifted her chin and managed to look down her lovely nose at him though he stood inches above her. “Are you suggesting, Squire, that I lack the necessary intelligence to grasp that it requires more than that to convict a man of murder?”

  The man stammered an apology, “Never meant to imply any such thing, Miss Barrows. I only meant to say that you hadn’t heard the whole conversation and might not have all the facts straightaway… Viscount Ellersleigh disappeared from the drawing room, and no one has laid eyes on him since. His clothes are mussed too, and that could well have happened in a struggle with poor Lord Allerton, here.”

  Climbing a bloody tree would see him swinging from one, Michael thought. He looked back at Abby, and she gave the slightest of nods as she stepped forward to stand directly beside him.

  With her tacit approval, he made a confession that would forever alter both their lives. “My clothing is mussed, Squire Blevins, because I climbed the tree beneath Miss Barrows’ window.”

  There were gasps all around as everyone turned to her with accusing eyes. As married men and women, they could engage in all sorts of licentious behavior in full view of one another in the drawing room. Because she was unmarried, even admitting to being along with him was enough to see her ruined.

  “Is this true, Miss Barrows? Have you engaged in lewd behavior with this man?” the Squire demanded.

  Abby was embarrassed to her toes. She could deny it, but no one would believe her. “We were alone together at the time that Lord Allerton was so grievously injured, Squire. Surely that is all the information that you require.”

  Lavinia stepped forward; her eyes were hot with anger and jealousy. “How dare you shame my husband and me this way! You will not remain in this house!”

  Michael stepped between the two women. Lavinia was obviously quite unhinged, but he couldn't allow her to insult Miss Barrows. The hypocrisy of the situation galled him. “You will keep a civil tongue, Lady Lavinia, when you are addressing my future wife.”

  Lavinia’s face became red with anger; her fingers curved into talon-like claws as she glared at them. “Rupert would never consent to such a union!”

  “I am five and twenty, Lavinia. I do not require your husband’s consent,” Abby said mildly. This only served to spur Lavinia further into a frenzied rage, and she sprang forward as if to attack. Two of the gentl
emen present grabbed hold of her, hauling her back as she screamed and ranted.

  The Squire stepped forward, “If I find that this engagement is a sham just to throw suspicion elsewhere—“

  Michael nodded, taking Abby by the arm and leading her away from the others. Over his shoulder, he said, “Rest assured, Squire Blevins, that Abigail and I will marry as soon as possible.”

  Footmen were called to remove the body. It was arranged for a messenger to ride ahead and provide a warning to the household of their master’s demise. As the remaining guests dispersed, Michael whispered to Abby, “You are not staying here tonight.”

  “I can’t leave with you! Think of the scandal!” Abby protested.

  Michael’s grip on her arm was forceful but gentle as he steered her away from the house. “It may have escaped your notice, but the only other person who was in this garden tonight was your stepsister! Given the viciousness of her temper, and the fact that she's mad as a March hare, I do not doubt for a minute that she is more than capable of murder.”

  Abby looked over her shoulder and saw that Lavinia was still spewing venom. She didn’t doubt it either. “I’ll meet you at the stables,” she said.

  Michael’s expression hardened, his lips firming. “No, we’re leaving now…I’ll have a maid gather your things and send them to Blagdon Hall. It is too dangerous for you to go in there alone. You cannot afford to trust anyone here. At present, I am the only person you can be sure isn’t a murderer.”

  He was right, of course. Given how quickly the squire had moved to point the finger at him, there could be no question that it was what Lavinia wanted everyone to believe. Squire Blevins didn’t sneeze unless her sister gave him leave to do so.

  Abby watched as he delivered instructions to a footman, and then returned to lead her to the stables. The night air was chilly, but she didn’t complain. Thinking of Lord Allerton, she realized she had very little to complain about in comparison.

  By midnight, Abby was once again in her velvet draped bed at Blagdon Hall. The return trip atop Lord Ellersleigh’s mount had been an eye opening experience for her. She’d never before been so close to any man, unless one counted her near misses in Rupert’s clutches.