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

by Henrietta Harding

  Benedict suppressed a smile. Once they were out of the house, they turned to each other, neither speaking for a moment. The moment stretched between them.

  “Thank you, old chap,” whispered Benedict, his eyes glittering with emotion. “Thank you. This is all your work. And I shall never forget it.”

  Ralph grinned. “The least I could do, cousin. And now let us hightail it to Lambeth House. I rather think the day’s work is not quite done yet.”

  ***

  Benedict’s heart was beating frantically as they raced across the countryside. Its rhythm seemed to match the furious pace of the horses’ hooves upon the ground. And her name echoed in his mind with every one of those beats.

  Emmeline. Emmeline. Emmeline …

  The sun was gone now, retreating behind the hills in a haze of orange. A half indigo sky. Night was falling fast. Her engagement party was about to begin – if it hadn’t already. He must get to Lambeth House before it was too late – before the engagement was announced to the world.

  Hold on, my love, he thought fiercely. For just a little while longer. I am coming for you.

  ***

  Emmeline stood in the parlour, greeting the guests that had just started to arrive for the party. Mr Hardy was by her side, looking as pleased as punch. Her mother gazed at her warmly from time to time. Emmeline knew that this was probably the proudest moment of her life. Her eldest daughter, who she had despaired of for so long, was finally betrothed.

  Her eyes swept around the room. Grandmama was already here looking dignified in dove grey lace. Her eyes rested approvingly on her eldest granddaughter. Emmeline knew that she had made the old lady very happy indeed.

  She took a deep breath. It rather appeared that she was making everyone ecstatically happy. Everyone except Olivia, who was looking strained but resigned to the situation. And herself, of course.

  Champagne was handed around, and then the dinner gong sounded, echoing down the hallway. It was time to sit down. Emmeline knew it would not be long before Papa announced the betrothal. He planned to do it as soon as dinner was finished while everyone was still assembled at the table.

  Mr Hardy held out his arm to her. “Shall we, my dear?”

  Emmeline hesitated for only a second before taking it. They started walking slowly out of the parlour towards the dining room.

  She glanced at him. Her future husband. She didn’t know how she was going to bear it.

  ***

  The dread started to rise in her belly as the meal progressed. Three courses came and went. She could barely touch any of it.

  “No appetite, my dear?” asked Mr Hardy, smiling at her. “Are you too excited to eat because of the impending announcement?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The desire to get up and simply run was overwhelming her. She swallowed it down with difficulty.

  At last, the moment she had been fearing arrived. As the servants cleared away the dessert dishes, her father stood up, tapping a spoon on the side of his champagne glass for attention. The chatter slowly died down as the guests all turned to look at him.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “Thank you for coming this evening to celebrate with us. It is a very special occasion …”

  Emmeline watched as his voice faded away. He was staring at the doorway with a puzzled expression on his face. Almost as one, all the guests turned following his gaze.

  Lord Benedict Montagu was standing there, breathing heavily, as if he had just run a mile. His eyes swept over the table before they came to rest upon Emmeline.

  “Sir?” Her father’s voice boomed across the room, loud and affronted. “What is the meaning of this interruption?”

  “I do apologise, sir,” said Benedict slowly, his eyes never leaving Emmeline. “But I must speak to your daughter. It is most urgent.”

  ***

  Emmeline felt as if she was wading through deep water as she got up and walked towards him. The guests were all staring at the intruder, looking as stunned and baffled as she felt. The only one of them that was smiling was Olivia.

  “Excuse me,” she said breathlessly, to the table. “I shall return in just one moment.”

  She followed Benedict into the parlour. Slowly they turned to one another. Her heart felt like a wild bird trapped within her chest, frantically trying to escape.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered. “Why have you interrupted the party?”

  He took her hand, gazing at her beseechingly. “I had no choice, Emmeline. I know that it was unbearably rude of me … but I had to stop you before it was too late.” He took a deep breath. “You must not do it. You must not let your father announce your engagement.”

  “Why?” she cried. “You do not understand! There cannot ever be anything between us again. You must listen to me.”

  “I know everything,” he said quietly. “I know what Lady Henrietta was doing to you. I know how she was blackmailing you. But it is over. I have dealt with it, Emmeline. She will never threaten you again. I vow it to you on my life.”

  She felt all the blood draining from her face. “You know? How?”

  He smiled. “It is all thanks to my cousin. He suspected that the lady was up to something and delved deeper. To cut a long story short, we have played Lady Henrietta at her own game. She will never utter a word against you. Believe me.”

  Emmeline felt as if the whole world was spinning out of control. Her father had just been about to announce her engagement to Mr Hardy. Now Benedict had walked into her home telling her that Lady Henrietta’s blackmail threats towards her were over, that she was finally free of it.

  She gaped at him. She simply could not speak a word.

  He stepped slowly towards her, taking her hand. “I have loved you for so long,” he whispered. “I have always loved you, Emmeline. There has never been any other woman for me.” He took a deep breath, his eyes fierce. “I wish I could turn back the hands of time. I wish I had never been away from you all those years and that you thought I had abandoned you. If I could change it all, I would.”

  She blinked back tears, her heart swelling at his words.

  “I wish that everything had been different,” he continued, in the same ardent whisper. “I wish I had not been so confused on my return to England that I thought I had nothing to offer you any longer. That you would be better off without me.” He paused. “I wish I had not encouraged that abhorrent lady in my confusion. That you had never suffered at her hands as a result.”

  She gazed at him as the tears finally spilled over.

  “But I cannot change any of it,” he said slowly. “All I can do now is tell you that you are safe. You do not need to marry someone you do not love, Emmeline. For we are meant to be together. How could we have suffered all that we have for our love if not for that reward at the end?”

  Her throat was so thick with tears that she still could not speak. His hand tightened over her own.

  “Let it all be damned, my love,” he whispered. “Let the world take care of itself at long last. I want you by my side for the rest of my life, and I shall not let anything stand between us ever again.”

  He took her other hand, staring at her intently.

  “Will you?” His voice was like a caress. “Will you become my wife?”

  She gazed at him, overwhelmed. It was all happening so quickly. All day she had been praying for this, for a reprieve, for a way out of her betrothal. And here he was, standing in front of her telling her that the reprieve was here. She was no longer being threatened. And he wanted her for his own. Forever.

  She glanced back at the door. There were shocked people in that dining room wondering what on earth was going on. Her parents, her grandmother, her new fiancé. A million good reasons to tell him that it was too late. She had pledged herself to another. She could not disappoint everyone. The list ran on and on.

  She should calmly walk away and tell him to leave once and for all. That would be the sensible thing to do. That wo
uld be the right thing to do. It would make everyone else happy, wouldn’t it?

  But it wouldn’t make her happy. She would be pledging her life to misery. She knew it as surely as she knew that day followed night.

  And she had waited so very long for him.

  Suddenly, it was as if a great weight was lifted from her shoulders. He was here. He wanted her to be his wife. The past did not matter any longer. Not what had happened all those years ago and not what had just happened. Nothing mattered except that they were together. It truly was as simple as that.

  The world be damned, indeed.

  Slowly, she nodded. Her voice cracked a little as it finally left her throat. “Yes. Oh, yes. I will be your wife.”

  His eyes lit up with pure joy. Before she could stop him, he lifted her into his arms twirling her around as if she were a doll. She tilted her head back, laughing. She felt like tiny stars were swimming around her, cascading from the heavens.

  He set her down gently, gazing into her face. “I mean it, Emmeline. Nothing shall ever come between us again.”

  She nodded. She knew that he meant it, that she could trust him. That it had all come full circle. “I know.”

  Suddenly, she was conscious of someone at the doorway watching them. She glanced across a little fearfully. They still had to jump quite a few hurdles to be together. There was going to be a minor scandal. A resentful fiancé, outraged parents, disappointed guests … which one of them would it be? She was willing to take on all of it to finally be his wife, but still …

  But to her surprise, it was Olivia standing there. By her side was Ralph Montagu. Both were grinning inanely at them as if they had just been told the funniest joke in the world.

  “At long last,” said Olivia, rolling her eyes mockingly.

  “I’ll say,” said Ralph, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “It’s only taken three years, two countries, and a couple of discarded lovers along the way.”

  Emmeline and Benedict laughed, leaning into each other as they gazed at the pair in the doorway. It felt so good to laugh after all they had been through, all the heartache and pain. The difficult path they had both walked down to finally be with each other.

  She gazed up at him, her heart flipping over with love. Hopefully, there would be nothing but laughter from now on. She thought that perhaps – just perhaps – they deserved it.

  Epilogue

  Emmeline leaned over in the bed, lazily trailing a hand across her new husband’s back. He grunted but didn’t move a muscle.

  “Have I exhausted you, husband?” she whispered into his ear.

  He turned his head to gaze upon her. “You always exhaust me, woman,” he growled. Then he slowly smiled. “But you know I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  They kissed lingeringly. Emmeline felt her blood quicken again. She couldn’t quite believe it. They had already made love twice since they had arrived at their honeymoon guesthouse by the sea. Would their passion for each other ever be satiated?

  She smiled contentedly, raising her left hand into the air to look at the new gleaming gold ring on her wedding finger. It had been a whirlwind of carriages and travel to finally get here. Already the wedding day was blurring just a little in her mind. She had been so very nervous in the lead up to it, but it had all gone smoothly in the end.

  And now she was finally his wife. She was Lady Montagu. She had truly thought the day would never come.

  “Happy, my love?” he asked, gazing at her.

  “Very.” She smiled back at him. “Beyond happy. Jubilant would better describe it.” She paused. “Did you notice how many times Olivia and Ralph danced together at the wedding breakfast?”

  He grinned. “I did. I think they like each other … in that special way.”

  “I hope so,” she sighed. “They make a handsome couple. And it would be fitting indeed if they could find love with each other after all they have done for us. If it wasn’t for the two of them, we might not even be here.”

  “We were always meant to be here,” he whispered, his eyes raking over her. “You know that as well as I do, Lady Montagu.”

  She smiled, her heart somersaulting in her chest. How she loved him. She didn’t think that she could love him any more, but every day it deepened between them. Ever since the night of her engagement party when he had so shockingly burst through the door to stop her making the biggest mistake of her life. When he had told her the threat was over, and they could finally be together.

  The fallout from that night had been as tumultuous as she had expected. Her father had confronted them, demanding to know what was going on. Benedict had requested they all speak in his study. Her father had been so astonished by the turn of events he could not make head nor tail of it for a while. But eventually, Benedict had managed to convince him that he was a much better candidate for her hand than Lewis Hardy. And besides, they loved each other.

  Her father had eventually seen the light. He was a canny man and realised that having a lord as a son-in-law was a much better proposition than a run of the mill middle-class gentleman from Lincolnshire. And his face had softened when she entreated him that Benedict was the only man she had ever loved, the only man she could love. He had given his blessing at long last.

  Lewis Hardy, once he got wind of what was going on, had stormed out of the house in an affronted rage. The shocked guests had all dispersed like the wind to spread the story. Her mother had been appalled, crying, declaring that she would never recover from the scandal. But eventually, she had come around too when she realised that her daughter had not lost a fiancé but merely swapped one gentleman for another; she wasn’t about to become an old maid. And that the new fiancé was a lot better than the old.

  She smiled as she remembered it all. It had taken a while to die down, but it had. She had written to Mr Hardy with her heartfelt apologies, explaining the whole complicated saga, but he had never written back. That saddened her; she had never meant to hurt him. But she also realised it was better to hurt him in the short term than put him through a lifetime of misery. He would find the right lady, a lady who would suit him much better than she ever could.

  Lady Henrietta Wynn had stayed conspicuously silent when their betrothal was finally announced. And whenever she spotted her at a social event, Lady Henrietta always hastily turned her face away, retreating from her as if she might be burnt.

  Yes, it had all turned out for the best in the end. And now their whole lives spread ahead of them like a gift. A future that she had always yearned for but never expected could be hers.

  She rolled over in the bed, pushing him down. His dark eyes glinted with desire as she climbed on top of him. Gently, carefully, she slid herself down so that he entered her deeply. He hissed as their flesh connected.

  Gradually she started to move, rotating her hips. He slid deeper inside her. She gasped with delight, throwing her head back. Those wild sensations were fluttering to life within her once again. Those sensations that only he could rouse within her. She had thought in the years of their separation that she would never experience such delirious joy again. And here it still was, waiting for her.

  She gazed down at him through hooded eyes. Somehow, it felt like a richer connection now that she was finally his wife. It had always been passionate between them, but this was different as if it was deepening to another, more profound level of intimacy. She gloried in it, crying out with abandon, as the sensations washed over her, slamming her into oblivion …

  He cried out, gripping her hips tightly as his own release thundered through him. And then they collapsed together on the bed, intertwined, bathed in sweat.