A Lord's Flaming Return: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Henrietta Harding

  His heart lurched with sorrow. It was all too late. Their chance to be together had come and gone, and now she hated him. She must think he had deserted her; she would know nothing of what had transpired in India to keep him away for so long. Even though he had tried to explain in his last letter to her that he did not want to leave her, that he loved her and always would. That he would carry her in his heart forever.

  He sighed deeply, turning back to Lady Henrietta. It was all gone and past. What did any of it matter anyway?

  Chapter 8

  Emmeline trailed the fringes of the party as they set off into the woods. Olivia stayed close by her side, glancing at her from time to time. It was obvious that her sister was worried about her. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She just needed to forget that Benedict was anywhere near her.

  It was a beautiful day – the sun was shining through the canopy of the woods, casting warm light onto the party. Squirrels and hares were darting through the undergrowth and birds trilling in the trees. In different circumstances, she would have gloried in this freedom to be a part of nature.

  Why is he here? Why is he tormenting me like this?

  She took another deep breath. She was being ridiculous. He hadn’t attended this event to torment her – he obviously didn’t wish to see her any more than she wanted to see him. It was just bad luck again. He was staying in the district and socialising, that was all.

  She watched him covertly, striding ahead with Lady Henrietta Wynn on his arm. The lady was laughing at something he was saying. He didn’t glance back at all.

  Her heart lurched as she watched them together. Was he charmed by the lady? She shouldn’t be surprised at all. Lady Henrietta was not only a great beauty but very high born and extremely popular. A lady who had never deigned to give her the time of day in the past. Emmeline thought that the lady probably didn’t even know her name.

  A lady who was truly deserving of being his wife. Unlike her.

  Her face burnt with mortification. No, she had obviously never been wife material for him despite his pretty words. She had only been good enough to have a brief affair with and then desert. The fact that she had given him the gift of her precious maidenhood still gnawed at her; something she had only done because he had sworn he would one day make her his wife. How could she have been so careless? How could she have been so wrong about him?

  But the truth was there staring her in the face. He did not think her good enough to even speak to anymore. It was as if their closeness had never even existed. He was determined to ignore her entirely.

  She straightened her shoulders. Well, she could do the same. She wasn’t about to scurry away like a frightened rabbit every time she encountered him; that would only show him he still had the power to hurt her. It would show him that she still cared. No, she would show him that she was quite happy in her life now, thank you very much.

  “Dearest,” said Olivia, gazing at her uneasily. “Are you quite sure that you wish to continue? There is still time to turn around and leave …”

  Emmeline gazed at her sister steadily. “Leave? No, I do not wish to leave.” She paused, looking up at the sky. “It is a rather glorious day. I think we should pick some very delicious berries.”

  Olivia’s eyes sparkled. “That is the spirit, Emme! And yes, I shall enjoy picking some berries too.”

  ***

  They kept walking deeper into the woods. It was strange, but Emmeline felt as if she were entering another world entirely. A world where anything was possible.

  It was as if a knot within her chest was finally starting to unravel. Her worst fears had come true – Lord Benedict Montagu was not only back in the district but within her vicinity. But she was handling it. She wasn’t running away, scared. She felt an enormous sense of power wash over her; she was finally confronting her fears and living to tell the tale.

  He hadn’t destroyed her, and he never would.

  Perhaps Olivia had been right after all. Seeing him again was healing her in some odd way, even though it was painful.

  She spied some blackberry brambles on a hill in the distance. She stopped, gazing back at them. Olivia was surging ahead, talking with another lady. She hesitated for just a moment before she doubled back, scrambling up the hill towards the brambles. It would only take her a moment to pick the ripe black fruit and catch up to the party.

  Her chest heaved as she climbed, and she felt sweat breaking out on her neck. It was a harder ascent than she had anticipated. She stumbled over some rocks, correcting her footing at the last minute. For a moment, she hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. It seemed a long way down, and the party was disappearing from her view. Should she continue or go back?

  She took a deep breath. She was almost there – closer to the blackberry brambles than away from them. It would only take another few minutes to get there. Doggedly she kept climbing, clawing at the ground to aid her ascent.

  She was breathless when she finally reached the spot. Arms on her hips, she tried to catch her breath, looking down. From this higher vantage point, the forest looked completely different. She could see a river snaking through the woods, the water as clear as crystal. Beyond there was a seemingly endless stretch of green as far as the eye could see. It was spectacular.

  She feasted her eyes upon it for a moment, craning her neck. She had forgotten how lovely it was in nature.

  As she contemplated the view, she reflected on how she had always enjoyed long walks in the woods … before Benedict had come into her life. After he had left, her enjoyment of it had become another casualty of her broken heart … along with most of the other things she had previously enjoyed. She had rarely been on walks since, and when she had, her mind had been absent and her heart sore.

  It was as if she had been living half a life.

  She breathed deeply, taking in the pure air. How could she have denied herself this pleasure? How could she have lost herself so utterly in him?

  Tears pricked behind her eyes. It was madness, and it must stop. She had already lost three years of her life. She could not afford to lose any more.

  She knew why it had been so difficult. She had never loved a man before; it had all been so new and amazing. She had genuinely believed she would become his wife. Oh, she had realised they would have to wait until he could fully support her, but she had been willing to do it. Nothing had seemed impossible to her then; the power of their love had appeared absolute.

  And then he had left her without a word. Deserted her entirely.

  Her heart somersaulted. She still vividly recalled the day when someone had casually mentioned to her that Lord Benedict was no longer in residence at Derby Hall. She had thought it odd that he had not sent word to her since her return from Chichester, but she had never for one moment believed it was because he was no longer in the district.

  She had waited for a long time – waited for him to send a letter explaining why he had left so abruptly and when he would come to see her again. But no letter had ever arrived. Eventually, after two months of waiting, she had been forced to admit the truth to herself. Benedict had abandoned her and was never intending to get in contact with her again.

  It was at that moment when her heart had finally broken for good.

  She had been living in his shadow ever since.

  Resolutely, she turned away from the view. There were berries to be picked. There was a whole life to live. She would not waste another precious moment of it on him.

  ***

  Her basket was overflowing with blackberries when she finally decided to head back down the hill. She had no idea how much time had passed but knew Olivia would be wondering where she was.

  Carefully, she descended, picking her way amongst the rocks and thorns. It was harder going down than it had been going up; her basket was heavy, and her footing less sure. She slipped twice, correcting herself at the last moment.

  Suddenly, she made another wrong step, stepping on a rock which was slick
with lichen. Before she could stop it, she slipped. The basket filled with berries flew into the air, and she skidded down the hill, landing with a thud in some brambles.

  There was a sharp pain in her left ankle. Gingerly, she tried to stand but was forced to sit back down. The pain was so bad that she could barely think, and it became worse when she tried to put some pressure on her foot. What on earth was she going to do?

  “Help,” she cried, calling down the hill.

  But there was no answer. The party had moved deeper into the woods long ago. She was all alone on this hill, and no one knew where she was.

  ***

  Her heart was pounding with apprehension when she finally saw a figure winding up the hill towards her.

  “Here!” she called, waving a hand. “I am here.”

  Her voice trailed away abruptly as the figure grew closer. Her heart tightened. Of all the people in the party, it was Benedict coming towards her. His face was grim.

  Her instinct to run – to hide – was useless. There was simply nothing she could do but sit and wait for him. Her ankle was throbbing now, and Emmeline knew she could not walk on it, let alone run.

  “There you are,” he said curtly, as soon as he was close enough to be heard. “The whole party is looking for you. How could you have been so reckless as to go off on your own?”

  Her eyes flashed. “You do not need to concern yourself with me,” she said in a tight voice. “I am perfectly well.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “Go back to the others.”

  He gazed at her steadily. “I am going nowhere,” he said slowly. “And you are not perfectly well. You fell, did you not?”

  Her face twisted in chagrin. It was mortifying being in this position with anyone, but especially him.

  She took another deep breath. “You have done your duty,” she said, through gritted teeth. “You do not need to assist me. If you could just tell my sister where I am.”

  “I had forgotten how stubborn you could be,” he said furiously, almost looming over her, his eyes raking over her from head to toe. “Dash it all, Emmeline! Where does it hurt?”

  They glared at each other like angry cats for a moment.

  “My left ankle,” she admitted eventually. She felt like the words were being dragged from her mouth. “I must have twisted it.”

  He didn’t say a word. He just moved forward, putting an arm around Emmeline, assisting her to stand. She winced at the pain as her left foot touched the ground.

  “Keep your arm firmly around my shoulders,” he said. “It will still hurt, but hopefully, we can get you down this hill without too much bother.”

  She didn’t answer. He started walking, his arm tightly around her body. Carefully they made their way down the hill. Her heart was beating so hard it felt like a drum in her chest.

  The feel of his arm around her. It was like coming home. The smell of him … so familiar and yet so strange. It was bittersweet. She bit her lip to stop the tears from falling. It was bad enough that he was forced to help her like this. She would not add to the mortification by crying like a baby in front of him.

  Other people were gathered at the bottom of the hill, watching their descent. She saw Olivia’s face pinched with concern. Lady Henrietta was also there with a sour expression, obviously not pleased that her carefree afternoon had been interrupted by Emmeline’s injury.

  He didn’t say a word to her as he led her to the others. But something had passed between them, as heavy as a stone, and just as burdensome.

  Chapter 9

  Benedict glanced at Ralph sitting opposite him in the carriage, grimacing slightly. They were on their way to another infernal social engagement. Today they were attending Miss Georgiana Bardwell’s birthday party. His cousin seemed to be insatiable – they had barely spent one full day at Derby Hall without going out somewhere or other. It was as if Ralph was possessed with a restless energy that could not be quelled.

  He sighed, shifting on the seat. His cousin wished him to accompany him, and he could not refuse him. Besides, it had been three weeks since he had last encountered Emmeline at one of these events – she appeared to be lying low since she had wandered off into the woods, twisting her ankle. Concern that she had done some serious damage to it warred with his relief that he didn’t have to face her yet again.

  He recalled the moment he had seen her lying on that hill, white as a sheet and clearly injured. He had torn through the woods, searching for her as soon as word had got out that she was missing. And he had thought that his heart would rip in two when he had finally spotted her, obviously hurt.

  But she had been angry and defensive with him, and he had instinctively responded in kind. She had spurned his help but was forced to accept it in the end. They had parted without a word; her sister and another gentleman had assisted her back to the house. The party had resumed. Lady Henrietta had monopolised him again as if nothing had happened, and he was forced to put the incident from his mind.

  But all he had wanted to do was rush back to that house and see that she was alright.

  His lips tightened. It was natural that he would still have some feeling for her – they had once been in love, after all. But he needed to resist the impulse to be near her. He had nothing to offer her anymore, and besides, she clearly despised him now. It was as simple as that.

  ***

  He was sipping a glass of champagne in the gardens where the party was assembled when he suddenly saw her walking towards the group with her sister. His heart contracted. He watched her covertly, unable to tear his eyes away.

  She looked lovely as always, like a breath of fresh air. Today she was dressed in a modest white muslin gown with little adornment; her nut brown hair pulled back into a loose bun. A far cry from all the other ladies who were wearing elaborate gowns and hairstyles. But then, Emmeline had never deliberately sought attention through her appearance.

  He turned away abruptly. He must be on his guard against her. She did not wish to acknowledge him, anyway; he knew she had seen him by the slight widening of her eyes, but she had not smiled at him. He must respect her wishes, and besides … it was for the best.

  He just needed to keep reminding himself of that fact. That was all.

  A tall gentleman, who he knew was Mr Francis Bardwell, the birthday lady’s father, tapped a spoon against his champagne glass, calling for attention. With a sense of relief, Benedict turned to the man as a hush went over the party.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” said the man. “Thank you all for coming today to help us celebrate Georgiana’s birthday.” He raised his glass towards his daughter, who blushed prettily in response. “As part of the celebrations, we are conducting a treasure hunt through the grounds …”

  A ripple of excitement went through the party.

  “The objective is to find all the items on this list,” he continued, holding several pieces of paper aloft. “You shall work individually to find them. The only clue is that they are all to be found within the grounds – the house is out of bounds. The first to discover all items shall be declared the winner and receive the prize.”

  The party clapped. Benedict suppressed a sigh of irritation. By Jove’s beard, a treasure hunt of all things. A child’s game. He had fought for his life to return to England to scamper like a fool through someone’s gardens.

  He looked at his cousin. Ralph was beaming with excitement, eager to begin the hunt. He sighed heavily. At least he seemed happy, and that was all he desired after all. The only reason he was here.

  He couldn’t resist glancing at Emmeline. She looked as unimpressed by the game as he was. But then, she had never enjoyed such pursuits either. It was one of the many things they had in common. Hastily he pushed that thought out of his mind.