“I could be a good husband for you, Agnes.”
She nodded, but again said nothing.
“I’m going to follow behind as you make your way back to the ballroom. I need to ensure you’re safe.”
“How do you know you could keep the marital vows?” she asked.
He inclined his head. “Surely, you must know that I would do anything for you.” He swallowed visibly. “Having you as my wife, I’d never be tempted by another woman again.”
Oh, how his tongue dripped with honey. But were his words truthful? She wished she knew. At the end of the day, though, she had three options: she could retire to the country a spinster, ask Christopher to arrange a union for her, or marry Fletcher. She wasn’t even certain her family would allow the first, which left her with marrying an unknown gentleman—provided Christopher could find someone—or marry the man who set her body on fire.
So, even if he were lying in this moment, this seemed the very best solution to her problems.
She nodded. “All right, I’ll marry you.”
The official announcement of their engagement wouldn’t hit the papers for another two days, but they’d told enough of the right people to ensure that word had gotten out. Christopher wasn’t speaking to either of them, but Agnes figured that eventually he’d come to terms with their union.
Agnes’s mother dove straight into wedding planning and Agnes had simply stepped aside. It mattered not to her what happened at the wedding itself save the actual vows she and Fletcher would take.
“Lady Darby! Lady Darby, come quick. Something terrible has happened,” one of the maids shouted from the main corridor.
Agnes set down her sketchbook and stepped outside the parlor.
“What is the matter?” she asked the maid.
Agnes’s mother came rushing down the main staircase. “What is all the ruckus about?”
The maid fretted with her hands flitting about in front of her. “Come and see.” She led them out the french doors and to the gardens at the back of the house. “I don’t know what happened. Or how?”
Agnes stepped out into the gardens not believing what she was seeing. Every direction she looked the plants had been ripped out of the ground, displaced, turned over, and scattered about.
“My beautiful garden!” her mother yelled. “It has been ruined. Who would do such a thing?”
Agnes knew. Not exactly who he was, but she knew that the same man who had invaded these gardens and clipped flowers to gift her with had come back here again and destroyed the plants. But why?
“I want a meeting with all of the servants in the main dining room in fifteen minutes,” her mother told the maid sharply. “This is disgraceful.” She turned to go back inside. “Agnes, are you coming?”
“Not just yet.”
Her mother continued to wax on about the horrors her plants had endured as she went back into the house.
Agnes walked through the gardens, looking at each plant that had been displaced. What was he trying to tell her? Had she declined a dance with him again? No, that couldn’t be it, she had only attended one ball since she’d returned from the country, but she’d left early after Fletcher’s proposal and hadn’t danced with anyone. She didn’t even recall anyone asking.
Agnes went back inside, uncertain of what she should do. She didn’t want to tell her mother about her secret suitor as there was no way to determine how her mother would take something like that. But she knew she needed to tell Fletcher and her friends.
The mysterious admirer hadn’t disappeared as she’d hoped he had once she returned from Brookhaven. She hadn’t heard from him since his letter about dancing with him.
She entered her bedchamber and, just as she had once before, she found a silver tray with a single envelope upon it. With great trepidation, she opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.
My dearest Agnes,
Engaged? How can you be engaged to another man?
Do you not know that you belong with me? To me?
Perhaps you were forced into this by your family. I can only hope that is the truth. I do know this, if you do not break the engagement, Lord Wakefield will be gravely injured. I’m certain you don’t want that to be on your conscience. Consider what needs to be done and take action immediately. I’ll give you one day.
With infinite adoration.
She swallowed hard and fell to the bed behind her. Fletcher was in danger. Because of her. There was only one thing for her to do: she needed to break their engagement, then retire to the countryside. If she were out of London, then perhaps this man would disappear and no one would get hurt.
No one but her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You’re not listening to me, Fletcher,” Agnes yelled. “I cannot marry you. I will not.”
Fletcher ignored the pounding of his heart and stared at Agnes’s face. Something wasn’t right. She’d come to his townhome and was effectively trying to break off their engagement.
“You’re damn right I’m not listening. Not until you tell me the truth about what is going on. What has changed?”
“I changed my mind,” she said with a shrug. “It isn’t more complicated than that. You knew I didn’t want to marry, this shouldn’t come as a huge surprise.”
She was lying. “The announcement is to be printed in tomorrow’s papers. I cannot change that.”
Her skin looked pale with the exception of the dark circles beneath her eyes. “I’m breaking the engagement. It is my choice—my fault—and your reputation shouldn’t suffer.”
He closed the distance between them, backing her up so that she was stuck between him and the bookshelf behind her. He reached up and swirled the curl by her ear, winding it around his finger.
She shuddered beneath his touch. She still wanted him.
“You know, I knew the first moment I saw you that you were meant to be mine.”
Her breath caught, but she said nothing.
“It was the most visceral experience I’ve ever had,” he continued. “Still, I didn’t think I deserved you, so when your brother told me you were off-limits, I used him as an excuse to not pursue you. I didn’t fight for you when I should have, but I never stopped wanting you.” He leaned forward, traced his nose up her neck to her ear. She smelled of cinnamon, warm bread, and home. “I know I don’t deserve you. You’re everything that is good and beautiful and perfect in the world. But you know, Agnes, no one deserves you.”
She stared into his eyes. He searched her features. The pulse in her throat tapped a rapid beat beneath her pale skin. And still she said nothing.
“I’ve decided that if anyone is going to have you, it’s going to be me. So, you might not understand this, and you might think you can fight it, but hear my words—I will never walk away from you again. You are mine. No one else’s and eventually you’ll acknowledge that, because I will never stop pursuing you.”
He tipped her chin up and latched his mouth onto hers in a soul-searing kiss. He would never let her go without a fight again.
He stepped away from her.
She sucked in a breath and her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Fletcher.” Then she turned on her heel and ran from his study.
Two days later and Fletcher still hadn’t heard back from Agnes.
It was the only reason he had attended this damned ball tonight. He’d waited long enough and it was time to convince Agnes that they belonged together. He loved her. He knew she loved him, even if she didn’t believe that herself. Over time, she’d come to see the truth.
He couldn’t blame her for her reluctance to believe in love. Her parents had a nonexistent relationship. He certainly hadn’t come from a family who freely gave their affection.
He knew she was here, he’d seen a glimpse of her earlier, but he’d somehow lost her in the crowd. It took another loop around the ballroom before he was convinced she was no longer inside. He’d have to look for her elsewhere. The chilled rain outside meant the terr
aces were closed and no one was venturing into the gardens. To make amends for a lack of outdoor spaces, Lord and Lady Conventry had opened up additional rooms including an armory, a music room, and a second dining room.
The corridors were filled with people and murmurs, and he wanted to be done with all of it. Once he found Agnes, he’d sweep her out of here where they could be alone. Hell, maybe they’d travel up to Scotland and be married by the following day. He wouldn’t even need a special license for such a thing.
Someone grabbed his arm and pulled him into the darkened alcove behind the staircase. He turned hoping to find Agnes, but instead came face-to-face with Celeste. Her red hair was piled artfully on top of her head with only a few curls loose to brush her nearly bare shoulders.
She smiled seductively and ran a hand down his chest. “Fletcher,” she said his name in a caress.
There had been a time her beauty and brazen sexuality had driven him wild, but he’d felt no desire for her in several years. Now the only thing pulsing through him was revulsion.
“Celeste, where is your husband?”
She flitted her hand behind her in a casual motion. “Playing cards or some such nonsense.”
He tried to move away from her, but her hand on his arm stopped him.
“Don’t you miss me?” she asked. Her full lips settled into a pout.
His stomach turned, and he wondered if he’d ever found this woman appealing. “No, I don’t. You are married and as I’ve told you before, I do not sleep with married women.”
“You could make an exception for me.” Again, her hand trailed down the front of his shirt. Her fingers stopped right at the fastening for his trousers. “Don’t you remember how good it was with us? God, Fletcher you used to drive me mad with lust and pleasure.”
“That is your husband’s duty now, not mine.” Fletcher allowed the irritation to flood his tone.
“My husband couldn’t bring me pleasure if the alternative was a beheading.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’ve resorted to having to do things myself.” She eyed him as if waiting for his response, but he said nothing. “I heard recently that you were engaged. I told them it wasn’t true. That Lord Wakefield would never be trapped by the bounds of matrimony.”
His jaw clenched. “It is very much true.”
She sucked in a breath. “We can make this work for us, my love. Once you are married, we shall have an affair. It will be perfect.” She pressed herself against him, her full breasts mashed into his chest. Then she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him.
It took him a moment to realize what was happening before he gathered his wits and pushed her away. “No, Celeste!”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t understand.”
“Evidently not. I said no. I will not sleep with you again. You are married. I do not have affairs with married women.” He forked his fingers through his hair. “Furthermore, I am to be married and I happen to be insanely in love with the woman I’m marrying. I have no desire for any woman but her.”
…
Agnes wanted to claw her own eyes out. It had only been two days since she’d broken their engagement and he’d not wasted a moment of it finding a lover. An old lover, as it were. She’d seen them together before and he’d assured her there was nothing more between them. But seeing their bodies pressed together in a heated embrace told a different story. The true story.
She quickly made her way over to her friends, knowing the tears had already begun to fall. Damn Fletcher and his unfaithful heart. No, he wasn’t being unfaithful. He didn’t belong to her. She’d set him free. Still, that didn’t make it feel any less of a betrayal.
Matilda caught her by the arm as she slid up to them. “Agnes, what is the matter?”
She shook her head. “I just saw Fletcher kissing another woman. It’s nothing. I am being foolish. I broke things off with him, he owes me no loyalty.”
Matilda frowned. “Are you certain it was him?”
“Yes. And I’m certain it was a redhead attached to him by the lips.” She sucked in a breath. “I have to go.”
“Let us come with you,” Justine said.
“No, you stay and enjoy the rest of your evening.” She didn’t let them, she just maneuvered herself into the crowd until they were out of sight. She continued weaving her way through the throng of people until she finally could see the doors leading outside. It was still raining; she could see the drops hitting against the windows and a flash of lightning lit up the sky.
She’d likely get wet on her way to the carriage, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she’d been right all along. Love didn’t exist. If it did then she wouldn’t be feeling as terrible as she was right now, as if the sun would never shine again.
Firm hands gripped her before she ran out into the rainstorm. “Miss Watkins, are you injured?”
Agnes looked up into the kind face of Lord Barrow’s son, Michael. “What?” she asked, confused by his question.
“You’re crying.” He wiped a tear from her cheek with one thumb. “Are you hurt somewhere?”
She shook her head. “I just want to go home.”
He nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Come, I shall see you safely home.”
He’d always been kind to her, though he was rather shy. His face was so handsome, his features bordered on pretty. He assisted her up into the carriage and climbed in behind her. Her reputation hardly mattered anymore since ending her engagement to Fletcher would likely ruin her.
Michael’s pale-blue eyes lit on her face and his full lips lifted in a sweet smile. “Would you care to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.”
He nodded. They rode in silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “You will learn to trust me eventually, Agnes. Speaking to me will be as natural as breathing. For now, we can enjoy the silence.”
His words made no sense. “I beg your pardon?”
“I know that bastard, Wakefield, probably hurt you. He likely stole your virtue, too, but none of that matters to me. All that matters is that we belong together. You’ll see it, too. Eventually.”
Her mouth went dry and her heart slammed into her ribs. Oh God, oh God, oh God. “It’s you.”
His brows rose. “Yes, it is me. I knew once I had your mother that she was nothing but a poor substitute for you. I want the best and I shall have it.”
“The flowers, the letters…”
“Did you like them?”
He was completely delusional. That was when Agnes realized she’d made a grave decision by getting into the carriage with this seemingly harmless, kind man. And no one knew where she was or who she was with.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fletcher made his way over to Agnes’s friends as he still had been unable to locate her. “Where is she?” he asked as he approached.
They both frowned at him.
“What?”
“She saw you,” Matilda said.
Confusion weighed on him. “Saw me where?”
“With your redheaded lady,” Justine said.
Fletcher swore. “That was not what it looked like.”
Justine folded her arms across her chest. “Explain.”
“That woman…” He shook his head. “She kissed me, and Agnes must have walked off before she saw me push her away.” He frowned. “Where is she?”
“She left here. She was very upset,” Matilda said.
“She was crying.”
Damnation! He’d never hit a woman before and he never would, but damned if he wasn’t tempted to strike Celeste for this.
“Oh no!” Matilda said. “We shouldn’t have let her leave alone, not after the most recent note.”
“What note?” Fletcher asked. He did his best to ignore the ratcheting of his heart as it pounded in his chest.
“Her admirer,” Justine said, her tone revealing her disgust at using that word. “He threatened you. It’s why she broke off the engagement.”<
br />
“I have to find her,” he said. He didn’t bother saying anything else, merely made his way to the entrance of the house as quickly as he could. But the ladies were close on his heels.
“We want to help,” Justine said.
“What can we do?” Matilda asked.
“You know the list of men, go through this entire bloody party and try to find them. I’m going to run to her house and see if she’s there. If not, I’ll be back and I’ll find you.”
Matilda’s hand went to her mouth.
“I won’t let anything happen to her.” He nodded once, then left the house.
Half an hour later he found himself back at the ball having discovered that Agnes had not yet returned home. He hoped that her friends had discovered her hiding in an empty room or playing darts. He sent up a silent prayer that she be safe and unharmed and that he could find her before something happened.
It took an additional quarter of an hour for him to locate Matilda. “Anything?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Agnes wasn’t home?”
“No.” He forced himself to take a steadying breath. “Any of the men?”
“There are two on our list that aren’t here. Lord Travers and also Lord Barrow’s son,” Matilda said.
“Where is Justine?” he asked.
“She had to leave. But we looked everywhere before she left.” She bit down on her lip. “You know it could simply be that those two gentlemen weren’t invited or didn’t attend tonight. Agnes, for all her pragmatic nature, she can be reckless. And tonight…”
“Tonight, what?”
“I think you broke her heart.”
“Then I best find her so I can apologize.”
“Where will you go?” she asked.
“I’ll pay some late-night visits to our gentlemen friends and see what I can discover. You should go home.”
She nodded. “I believe I’ll speak to Lady Somersby first.”
“Thank you for your help, Matilda. I promise I’ll find her.”
Fletcher went first to Lord Travers’s townhome, but the butler said that the entire family had recently left town for the month. Which meant that he likely wasn’t Agnes’s admirer. Which left only Lord Barrow’s son. Fletcher knew Michael, if only in passing, but the man had seemed on the up-and-up.
The Earl and the Reluctant Lady (Lords of Vice) Page 17