by Jenna Kernan
‘I’m sure it wasn’t. You may have been high-spirited and carefree as a girl, but you were never a brainless ninny, or a daredevil.’
‘Was I high-spirited and carefree? Maybe I was, once. It’s been so long.’
Her dull voice and lifeless eyes ratcheted his concern up even further. Granted, these two unlikely friends had grown apart in the years since the idyllic summer they’d met, he twenty and serving his first stint as secretary to Sir Edward Greaves, she a golden-haired, sixteen-year-old sprite paying a long visit to her cousin, Sir Edward’s wife. But even on the occasions he’d seen her since her marriage, her eyes had still held that warmth and joy for life that had so captured his heart the first time he set eyes on her.
‘You were carefree,’ he affirmed. ‘Which makes the fact that I found you alone on the street, seeking transport home, even more troubling. What drove you to it?’
‘Ever since Ashedon’s death—by the way, thank you for your kind note of condolence—his mother, the Dowager Duchess, has been making noises about how she must support “the poor young Duchess and her darling boys” and see that the “tragic young Duke” receives the guidance necessary for his elevated status in life. A month ago, she made good on her threat and moved herself back into Ashedon Place. She’s been wanting to do so for years, but though his mother doted on him, Ashedon knew how interfering she is and wouldn’t allow it. It’s enough that I must tolerate the sweetly contemptuous comments of other society matrons at all those boring, insipid evenings I’ve come to hate! Now, I have to live with the Dowager’s carping and criticism as well, every day. Then, tonight, when I accompanied her to the party she insisted we attend, I discovered her younger son, my brother-in-law Lord Randall, was there. When he caught me alone in the hallway on my way to the ladies’ retiring room and tried to force a kiss on me, I’d had enough. I knew the Dowager wasn’t ready to leave, and would never believe anything derogatory about her precious son, so there was no hope of persuading her to summon the carriage. But remaining was intolerable, so I decided to walk towards Oxford Street and look for a hackney.’
She gave a little sigh, the sadness of it piercing his heart. ‘Ashedon and his doxies were bad enough, and now this. Sometimes I don’t think I can bear it any longer.’
His heart ached for the gentle spirit whose girlish dreams of being loved and cherished had been slowly crushed under the heel of her husband’s indifference, leaving her trapped, a lonely and neglected wife. As Davie was trapped in his place, unable to help her.
Except, always, to be a friend.
To his dismay, the tears he’d seen on her lashes earlier began to silently slip down her cheeks. Putting up a hand to try to mask them, she turned away.
And then, somehow, she was in his arms, cradled against his chest. She clung to him and he clutched her tightly, almost ready to bless the ruffians he’d rescued her from, for without that incident, the marvel of holding her would never have been his. It was a dream come true; oh, far better than any dream, to feel the softness of her pressed against him, her lavender scent filling his nostrils, her silky blonde curls under his chin. He could die right now, and be content, for he would never get any closer to heaven.
And if his body burned to possess her fully, he rebuked it. He’d never expected to have even this much bliss; he’d not ask for more.
Inevitably and all too soon, she got herself back under control, and pulled away.
Letting her go, when all he wanted was to hold her for ever, was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
‘Sorry,’ she said gruffly. ‘Usually I’m not so poor-spirited.’
‘Don’t be sorry. I’m only glad I was here, to stand your friend.’
‘My friend. I have few enough of those. I did try to be careful tonight, I assure you! I suppose...I suppose I was just too tired and preoccupied, because I never noticed the two men who must have followed me. They seemed to appear out of nowhere.’
Davie shook his head with a shudder. ‘I’m only glad I happened along. What they might have done to you, I don’t even want to contemplate.’
She nodded. ‘They threatened to take me to a brothel. Could they drag a woman there against her will, or were they just trying to frighten me?’
‘I’m afraid it’s quite possible. A little laudanum, and you might have awakened to find yourself locked in a room in some den of vice somewhere,’ he answered grimly.
‘Except for not seeing my sons again, I’m not sure I’d have cared. I thought of leaving Ashedon, oh, so many times! But I couldn’t have taken my boys with me—legally, they belonged to him, of course, and Edward is the heir. Though I saw little enough of them; the Duke didn’t think children should be spoiled by having their mother dote on them. Now that he’s gone, I’ve tried to alter that, though I must continually fight against the Dowager and their tutor to do it. As long as I get to be with my boys, one way or another, I will endure it—for now, anyway.’
‘Have you talked with your family, your sisters? Do they know how unhappy you are?’
She smiled wryly. ‘I...I’m not that close to them any more. The Duke actively discouraged me from seeing my family at the beginning of our marriage. Silly me, I thought it was because he wanted me all to himself. Which he did, in a way. He didn’t want anyone around who might interfere with his authority. So over the years, we...drifted further and further apart. As you and I did.’
He nodded. ‘I’m sure they regret that as much as I do. Could you not try to re-establish ties?’
‘I suppose. But there isn’t anything they can do to help me, either. Most of the time I manage better.’ She tried to summon a smile for him. ‘It’s only rarely that I feel as if I’ll...burst out of my skin if I don’t get away from all of it.’
‘As you did tonight.’
‘As I did tonight.’
He looked at her, frowning. ‘At the moment, I don’t have any clever ideas on how to make things better. But will you promise me something?’
‘What?’ she asked, tilting her head at him with an enquiring look, and instantly, he was catapulted back into the memories.
How many times that summer had she gazed up at him just like that, her eager mind probing further into whatever they were discussing—poetry, politics, agriculture? As if the whole world excited and enthralled her, and she could not learn enough about it.
Fury fired in him again to realise how much of that joy had been squeezed out of her.
Suppressing the anger, he replied, ‘The next time you feel you cannot stand it a minute longer, please, don’t go wandering around the streets by yourself! Send me a note; I’ll meet you somewhere, anywhere, and we can talk. You’re not alone, Faith. You’ll never be alone, while I still draw breath. Promise me?’
She studied him for a moment. ‘You mean that?’
‘Of course. I never say anything I don’t mean.’
She nodded, the faintest of smiles on her lips. ‘Yes, I remember that about you. And how you were always a loyal friend. Very well, I promise.’
‘Good,’ he said, troubled still, but feeling a bit better about her situation. ‘We should be at Berkeley Square shortly, which is fortunate—especially if your mother-in-law noticed you were gone, and rushed home to find you.’
She shrugged. ‘She’d probably rejoice to have me gone. Except, she’d no longer have so ready a target for her complaints.’
‘You’re just weary. Everything will look better in the morning, when you’re rested.’
‘Will it?’ She smiled. ‘Maybe for a man who’s set out to change the world. I do hear some of what you’re accomplishing, by the way, even in the wilderness of the ton. Not that anyone talks about it to me directly, of course—politics being too intellectually challenging for a woman. No, we are left to discuss trimming bonnets, managing servants, and perhaps, if we’ve very bold, sp
eculating about who might make the best lover, or which dancer in the Green Room has become the latest mistress of which nobleman.’
He grimaced. ‘There could be so much more than that! As you doubtless know, my friend Giles Hadley, Viscount Lyndlington, recently married Lady Margaret Roberts. She has played political hostess to her father, Lord Witlow, for years; not only does she understand politics, she and her father frequently bring together the best minds in government, science and art to debate all manner of topics at their “discussion evenings”.’
‘That sounds wonderful—and so much more stimulating that anything I get to experience. Unless...’ Her dull eyes brightened. ‘Did you really mean what you said, about meeting me? ‘
‘Didn’t I already answer that?’
‘Then...would you meet me tomorrow afternoon? I usually drive with the Dowager during the Promenade Hour in Hyde Park, but after tonight, I would rather not endure the hour-long lecture she will surely subject me to about my improper behaviour in leaving that wretched party. Would you meet me instead—at Gunter’s, perhaps? No one we know should be there at that hour, so we won’t be disturbed. I would love to hear more about what you are doing in Parliament. Perhaps I will even understand it.’
He ought to be in committee meetings, but when she looked at him with that appeal in her eyes, he’d have agreed to miss the final vote on the bill. ‘Yes, I’ll meet you there.’
The carriage slowed, indicating they were about to reach their destination. Davie felt a stab of disappointment; he could have ridden about London, talking with Faith, all night.
Bowing to the inevitable, he hopped out as the vehicle stopped and reached up to hand her down. ‘I’ll wait until you’re safely inside,’ he said as she descended.
‘Very well.’ She took a step towards the front door, then stopped, as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to re-enter the Duchess’s realm. Turning back to him, she went up on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss on his jaw.
While his heart stuttered, then raced in his chest, she said, ‘Thank you, Davie. For your rescue, and much more. For the first time in a long time, I have a “tomorrow” I can look forward to.’
As did he, he thought as she ran up the steps. The privilege of escorting her about probably wouldn’t last long. He intended to relish every second.
Copyright © 2016 by Janet Justiss
ISBN-13: 9781488004322
The Warrior’s Captive Bride
Copyright © 2016 by Jeannette H. Monaco
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