A Touch of Passion_A Rouge Regency Romance

by Bronwen Evans

  Her heart turned to stone. He thinks he has you anyway. She would wager her business that he thought he could have both—her as his wife but a heart that belonged to no one. He was gravely mistaken. She would never be forced into marriage. She’d blazed her own trail for years, and she would do it now.

  A tear trailed down her cheek, and she let it. It would be the last tear she shed for lost love.

  She would have a tough time convincing her brothers that a marriage was not necessary, she knew, and her stomach clenched at the thought of facing her mother.

  She did not need a man to provide for her, but declining his proposal would cost her her reputation and her standing in society. She bit her lower lip. Therein lay her problem. Her business would suffer, as it was the ton who bought her cider. Her business had grown, and she had employees who counted on her and an orphans’ school that counted on her financial support.

  She lay down and tried to think. There must be a way for her to salvage her reputation and save her business without marrying.

  Four hours later, her bottom lip was raw from chewing on it, and still nothing had come to mind. She wanted Philip back in England safe and well, but she knew that he would force a marriage. That was the only option that saved her reputation, thus not hurting her family, and allowed her to keep her business thriving, thus enabling it to support its staff and the orphans’ school.

  A knock on her door saw her sit up and check her hair before saying, “Come in.” It was Serena—a glowing and happy Serena. Portia’s heart twisted with envy in her chest.

  “I came to see if you are all right. You’ve been shut up in your room for hours. You’re not feeling worse, are you?”

  She gave a smile at the concern on Serena’s face. “No.” She waved the letter about. “If I’m sick, it’s Grayson I’m sick of, one could say.”

  Serena sat at the foot of her bed. “Bad news?”

  “Men. Sometimes I want to shoot the lot of them. They can be so dense.”

  Serena laughed. “My first husband wasn’t dense, worse luck. He was vicious, cruel, and sadistic, but not dense.”

  “What was it like to marry a man you did not love?”

  Serena eyed her cautiously. “Why do you ask? I thought you loved Grayson.”

  “I do, but … Here. Read his note.” She shoved the piece of paper at Serena, who read it with a look of horror growing on her face.

  “I’d like to slap him! How could he be so stupid and thoughtless and cruel?” Serena said with righteous anger.

  “He’s afraid to love. He’s afraid of loss. I thought we’d come to an understanding that the rewards that come from loving a person far outweigh the risks. But my recent brush with death seems to have changed his mind.” Her voice trailed away. “It’s obvious he doesn’t love me enough.”

  “I think you’re right. I’d give up anything and everything for any amount of time with Christian. When I met him, he knew I might be arrested for murder and perhaps sent to the gallows, but he didn’t care. We didn’t waste one moment on what might be. We simply lived for the here and now.”

  Portia’s heart sank. “I’m in a terrible situation,” she confessed to Serena. “My reputation is in tatters, and my family will want me to wed Grayson to save me and the honor of our family name. Grayson will also insist, to save his honor. How can I marry a man I am hopelessly in love with when he will never return my feelings?” She thumped the bed. “I’ve lain here for hours trying to figure out another way. All I’ve come up with is to marry someone else.”

  “Well, that’s a bit drastic,” Serena said wryly. She fell silent, and Portia could see her thinking, focusing on the situation and trying to come up with an alternative. Finally a resigned look settled over her features. “Did you have anyone in mind?”

  “Maitland is looking for a wife. He offered for me when Grayson told him he didn’t particularly wish to wed me. However, when Grayson got wind of it, he became possessive.”

  “That’s a good sign. Perhaps his feelings are deeper than I originally thought.”

  Portia shook her head. “I thought that once, but now I realize that he thought I might be with child. Very honorable—I admire him for that.”

  Serena ran a hand over her protruding belly. “A child. That changes everything.”

  “I’m not with child. My courses started.”

  “That gives you more choices. Not many, but a few.”

  “I came up with only two: weather the scandal and hope my business and family don’t suffer, or marry someone else.”

  “As you are the only daughter, would your family suffer, in fact? I only ask because I think there may be another way.”

  “My mother would hate facing society’s scorn, but my parents’ marriage was a love match, and I believe she would understand my position and sympathize.” She lowered her head. “If you are going to suggest that I don’t marry at all, it’s hopeless. My business—”

  “Christian could publicly buy the cider business and secretly sell it back to you a few months later, once the commotion has died down. He could take the lead in name permanently, but report to you behind the scenes. You can continue to run it on your own, but with a male as the figurehead.”

  Hope ignited in her body. She grabbed Serena’s hand. “Would Christian do that for me?”

  “Of course, if I ask him.”

  Portia stood and began to pace the room. “It might work. My brothers are going to be the biggest problem, especially if they find out Grayson and I have been intimate.”

  “Then why don’t we have a backup plan ready for them? You could say that if the scandal refuses to die down you’ll marry.”

  “They will want a name. They will expect it to be Grayson.”

  Serena didn’t bat an eye. “Then say neither of you suits the other and you’d prefer to marry Maitland.”

  Portia began to gnaw on her lip again. “I’ll have to ask him.”

  Serena rose. “Then I suggest you wash your face and put on your prettiest gown. Maitland is a logical man, and it should be easy to make a case.” She hesitated at the door, then added, “He has a list for what he requires in his wife. He asked my opinion on it. I told him to tear it up and go with his heart, but he laughed at my suggestion. You fit every point he listed. I don’t think he’ll take much convincing.”

  If only she had more time … but she didn’t.

  When Portia didn’t reply Serena opened the door. As she left she said, “I’ll ask Christian about the business. I’ll leave Maitland up to you.”

  Portia sat down with a heavy heart to write to Grayson. As the words and tears flowed, she finally felt a sense of peace fill her heart. She might always love Grayson, but she could—no, she would move on with her life. Maybe one day she might even learn to love another.

  Chapter 16

  “There will be trouble,” Arend said as he came up behind Christian, who stood looking out at the rose garden.

  The men watched Portia take a turn around the arbor, arm in arm with Maitland. The pair had taken an afternoon stroll every day this week.

  Christian turned his head to look at Arend. “What am I to do? Serena tells me Lady Portia does not wish to marry Grayson, and given that my wife is heavily pregnant with my child I don’t intend to upset her.” He swung away from the window and motioned for Arend to take a seat.

  “Grayson loves her. He just won’t admit it. If Maitland marries Portia, Grayson’s friendship with him will be over. It will break up the Libertine Scholars. We always said we’d never let a woman come between us.”

  “That was a vow we made as stupid, arrogant young men. When the heart is involved, men tend to forget the silly things they said in their youth.”

  “I hope this love affliction passes me by. I like my life as it is. No complications. No family to worry over. I have no need to produce an heir. My cousins are plenty, and all are eager for the title, though I have no idea why, as there is no property that comes with it. My weal
th is my own, and I worked hard to earn it.”

  Christian wanted to dispute his words, but he knew it would do no good. Arend’s family had arrived in England from France during the revolution with nothing but a few jewels and the clothes they had managed to escape in. Arend had worked hard at rebuilding his family’s wealth, but not without a few sacrifices along the way. None of the Libertine Scholars really knew what he’d had to do to survive his poverty, but from the darkness that lay just beneath Arend’s surface Christian knew that one trip to Africa, in particular, had cost his friend dearly, as Arend had come back from it a darker, moodier man.

  Christian decided to focus back on their problem. “Serena tells me Portia is in love with Grayson, but that she refuses to marry a man who doesn’t love her. How can you be sure he does?”

  Arend sat back and put his feet up on the side table. “He slept with her.”

  Christian walked to pour them both a drink. “He’s slept with loads of women he didn’t love.”

  “Ah, but not a virginal lady who happens to be Robert’s sister. He is far too honorable to have done that were he not in love.”

  “Then why is he not here?”

  Arend looked at him in surprise. “You really don’t understand, do you.” He gave Christian a mocking smile. “You’re part of the problem. He’s never forgiven himself for your burns. You only went with Grayson to disarm the cannons because he asked you to. Grayson feels responsible for your injuries, and also for Robert’s death. He has lost many of those he loves. His parents, his sister, Robert … and he almost lost you.”

  “We have all lost people we love.”

  “True. However, Grayson’s fun-loving, nothing-is-serious demeanor hides how deeply he hurts over the loss of his family. He is the most sensitive of us all. And now, when he’d finally admitted he was in love with Portia, she was almost killed. He’s retreating from the hurt, protecting himself. I understand that desire very well. How do you think he feels, having almost lost Portia? He’ll blame himself for that too.”

  Christian rested his head on the high back of his seat and closed his eyes, regret lancing his soul. “I knew he would blame himself. I don’t blame him—in fact, if not for him I would not be alive today, for he stayed with me.” He opened his eyes and felt his face flush. “I only withstood the pain of my injuries because of him. I wanted to be brave for him. He stayed with me for weeks until I was out of danger. I owe him more than he knows.”

  “Have you told him?”

  “I told him some of this in a letter, yes, but not in person.” Christian shook his head. “Men. We are so bad at sharing our emotions. Women have the right of it. They realize that emotions make life worth living. Without love, fear, joy, and sorrow, you might as well be in your grave. Emotions make you understand what is important.”

  Arend gave a shrug. “Protecting yourself from pain makes sense to me. Life is neater and more controllable when emotions are not in play.”

  “Now you’re sounding like Maitland.”

  Arend laughed. “His view of life is making more sense since you and Sebastian have fallen into the parson’s noose.”

  “Is someone taking my name in vain?” Sebastian Hawkestone, Marquis of Coldhurst, entered Christian’s study. He was immaculately dressed, as usual, and on his face was the very contented smile that had been there for the past few weeks. The sorrow that had haunted his eyes for months had disappeared once he learned he had not killed his wife’s brother in a duel—he had been framed for Doogie Hennessey’s death by their villainess. Sebastian was now blissfully married to Beatrice, and Christian had never seen his friend so happy.

  “Speaking of the benefits of love, here’s a man I never would have thought would be happy to give up his rakish ways,” Christian mused. He looked at the clock on the mantel. “So you’ve finally found the need to leave your bedchamber? And it’s before lunch for a change.”

  “I have a duty to keep my wife completely satisfied,” came Sebastian’s quick reply.

  “Oh, I see. It’s all for her pleasure,” Arend offered dryly.

  The three men looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  Sebastian walked to the window to look out. “I say”—he waved a hand at the window—“those two seem to be getting quite cozy.” He turned a concerned face to his friends. “Do we expect trouble? I suppose it was inevitable that at some point two or more of us would fall for the same woman. Has anyone told Grayson?”

  Christian looked at Arend. “Should we? Should we tell him to get his arse back here and fight for her?”

  Sebastian stopped in his task of pouring himself a drink. “Of course we should. I saw his face when she was ill. He was out of his mind with worry. If that’s not a man deeply in love, I don’t know what is.”

  Arend shook his head and said, “I’ve got someplace I need to be. I’m not explaining this all again.” He turned to Sebastian. “Grayson knows what’s happening with Maitland, and he’s hoping they become a couple so he doesn’t have to face his greatest fear. What’s ironic is that he fears losing her, but if she marries Maitland he’s lost her anyway.”

  A young feminine voice came from the open doorway. “Mother frequently tells me that most men are silly creatures. Lord Blackwood is being very silly, according to Mama and Lady Serena and Lady Beatrice. However, I’ve written to him and told him to come to Dorset before everything goes wrong. I can’t stand Lady Portia being so sad.”

  Christian looked at his adopted daughter, Lily, in horror. She’d just turned thirteen, and with all the ladies in the house at present, she was trying so hard to be more grown up than she actually was. Over his friends’ laughter he asked, “What exactly did you write to Lord Blackwood, young lady?”

  Lily hesitated, suddenly unsure of herself. Her bottom lip trembled as her father’s friends continued to laugh.

  When Arend saw the change in her face, he stopped laughing and said, “We are not laughing at you, Lily. Merely at the idea of Grayson reading your letter.”

  Christian knew what they were thinking: that being scolded and given relationship advice by a young girl would be leveling.

  “Go on, Lily. Tell us what you wrote.”

  She came and stood in front of Christian, her head bowed. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. Like him, I lost my parents, and I thought it might help him to hear from someone who understands that kind of sadness. I also wanted to tell him that it’s good to face your fears. When I was little I was petrified of water. In the hot, humid summers, Father would take us to the river. But I was too scared to go in. My father always told me a brave man faces his fears. So one summer I waded into the water and deliberately bent down and stuck my head under the water. It was not long until I could paddle, and then Father taught me to swim. If I hadn’t been brave and learned to swim, when we visited Jamaica I would have missed out on swimming in the beautiful clear blue water.”

  Christian pulled her to him and hugged her tightly. “Quite right, Lily.” After a moment he gently added, “So you didn’t mention His Grace?”

  A blush turned her cheeks rosy. “Well, I told him my story, and then told him to buck up and face his fears or he would lose Lady Portia to His Grace.”

  “Gentlemen, our dilemma has been sorted out for us. Now it’s up to Grayson.” Christian placed a kiss on Lily’s cheek. “What do you think, sweetheart? Will Lord Blackwood arrive to sweep Lady Portia off her feet?”

  “I hope so, Papa, or both of them will be unhappy for a long time.”

  The room fell silent.

  At last Sebastian rose. “I think I shall go and pry Maitland away for a gallop over your fine fields, Christian.” From Sebastian’s tone, Christian suspected he was about to have a heart-to-heart with the duke.

  Lily said, “Lord Aubury promised to take me riding too, and he’s late. That’s why I came. I thought he had forgotten.” She turned to Arend and said, “Papa told me it’s not gentlemanly to keep a lady waiting.”

 
Arend bowed low over her hand and said, “Very true, mon amie.”

  “That’s French, and it means ‘my friend,’” Lily proudly said.

  “So it does.” The Frenchman rose and bowed to the room. “It would seem I have the pleasure of a ride with a very pretty girl. Where shall we go?” he asked her as he held out his arm for Lily.

  “Can we ride to the village? There is a baby shawl I have been saving up for, and I want to get it for Serena.”

  Once the others had left, Christian had his study to himself once again. He thought about what Arend had told him about Grayson feeling responsible for his burns. He moved to the mirror, removing his jacket as he went, and undid his cravat. He pulled his shirt off his shoulder, stared at the mass of twisted and scarred flesh that lay underneath, and tried to remember the unbearable pain, but he couldn’t. His mind, heart, and soul were full of love, hope, and joy. Serena was about to bear him his first child, and while the prospect that something might happen to his wife in childbirth frightened him, he was so excited. Nothing was going to dampen the joy of this moment.

  Serena had turned his life around, and he wouldn’t change anything he’d been through, because otherwise they might never have met. He’d go through the fires of hell again if it meant being able to spend his life with her.

  Why was Grayson not willing to do the same for Portia if he was in fact in love with her? Perhaps Arend had misread the situation, he thought; Arend was not a man who had ever been in love.

  Christian knew one thing for certain: he needed to write to Grayson and ask him to return to Dorset. He wasn’t about to let the problems between Grayson and Portia upset Serena. Plus, it seemed that he needed to explain to Grayson, in person this time, that he did not blame him for his burns. He knew what guilt could do to a man. It ate him up from the inside until there was nothing left. And he certainly didn’t wish that for Grayson.

  Hadley fidgeted with his cane as the two Libertine Scholars walked up the stairs to a door that looked like any other, in a street in Mayfair that was a haven of respectability. Yet behind the door lay a gentlemen’s club. However, the ladies to be found within were few and far between—just enough to ensure that the law and society turned a blind eye to the type of club Top Hat actually was. This club catered to any and all tastes—some best not mentioned.