His Lordship's Little Bride (Little History Series Book 4)

by Ava Sinclair

  The governess stared in silence for a moment. “You don’t have that kind of relationship, Amelia. He’s your guardian. He decides when you will receive him and you accept.”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Are you sure you are well?” the governess asked again.

  “Yes. I’m fine.” Amelia had started to say she was feeling ill, but knew if she did that, the likelihood of getting away the following evening would be more difficult. She would have to endure the evening as it unfolded.

  In the nursery, Miss Steadwell changed Amelia into a fresh dress. She was given no undergarments, but the excitement she usually felt was replaced by worry. When Lord Darmley arrived, he spoke quietly with the governess before the older woman took her leave. She could not hear the conversation, but could tell by the tone that Miss Steadwell was apprising him of the day’s events.

  “You’ve made your governess worry,” he said after Miss. Steadwell left. He was walking over to where she was sitting in the window seat. Amelia didn’t immediately reply as she looked out to where the afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the grounds. “Can you tell papa what is wrong?”

  “There’s nothing wrong,” she said.

  He pulled up a chair and sat down by the window. “I don’t believe you. My little girl always runs to me with a smile and a hug.” He paused. “Where is my little girl?”

  “Perhaps she’s gone.” Amelia stood, walking away. How could she possibly tell him that things between them may be about to change forever and that he’d be forced to see her for what she was—not a cherished little one but a woman with a past that was soon to be fodder for every gossipmonger in the region. “Perhaps… perhaps this isn’t a good idea.”

  “What?” he asked.

  She looked at the floor. “Marrying me. Keeping me as your little girl.”

  The room was silent save for the ticking of a clock.

  “So you’re unhappy?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “It’s just that…”

  “What?” His tone was urgent, bordering on anger. “Tell me what’s wrong this instant, Amelia!”

  “So that’s how it’s to be?” she asked. “I’m never to have my own thoughts? Never to have my own secrets? Must I always explain everything to you?”

  She could see he was wounded. It took all her resolve not to go to him, but she needed to push him away, just for this one night, just until she knew exactly what she was facing.

  “Miss Steadwell said you’ve been in an odd temper all day, Amelia. She said she cannot account for it, and hoped my presence would bring you a bit more cheer. It seems I have failed, which is disappointing since I’ve business to see to tomorrow and will not come to you until the following day.” He paused. “I could spank the truth out of you, you know.”

  “You could,” she agreed flatly. “But perhaps this one time you’ll beg my indulgence and just leave me alone.”

  He stood. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and attribute your mood to nerves due to our upcoming wedding. But make no mistake, Amelia. If you are so dour upon my return, I will spank your bottom until you explain why you’re so distant. Do you understand?”

  She nodded almost imperceptibly, and he walked over to tip her chin up until she was looking at him. “Despite what you think, young lady, you are not entitled to your own thoughts. Or secrets. Not from me.”

  He turned and headed for the door. “I’ll see you when I return.”

  Chapter Twelve: The Vixen and the Wolf

  There was, Amelia decided, nothing more exhausting than pretending things were fine when they were completely otherwise. But she knew it was essential to put Miss Steadwell’s mind at ease since this night happened to be the governess’ weekly luxury of evening tea with the staff heads. Presided over by Mr. Holloway, the tea was something of a treat for the most important servants in the household. Amelia had to wonder if perhaps that was why her mystery contact had chosen the meeting time; perhaps they knew this was the one night Miss Steadwell left her in bed alone.

  As for the governess, she seemed both satisfied and relieved that whatever had caused her charge’s distress the day before was a temporary state.

  “Your papa will be happy to see that you’re in a better temper,” she said. Miss Steadwell looked up from the chair, where she was doing a bit of embroidery. Amelia was sitting in the window seat looking at a large picture book.

  “I think it was just my nerves,” Amelia said, forcing a small but believable smile. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Save your apologies for his lordship,” she said. “For the short time I’ve known him, he’s not seemed the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. But I must say that last night he was atypically distressed by your behavior.”

  “It wasn’t my intention. I’ll make it up to him.” Amelia said. She looked out the window so that the governess could not see the shadow of worry that passed over her face. What if I can’t make it up to him?

  “Well, no doubt his mind is on other things today, so that’s good.” Miss Steadwell stood to stoke the fire. “These great men have so many things to consider. As his wife, it will be your duty to be his haven, his ease from the tasks of running the estate. His focus on you is as much for his benefit as yours. He needs you, Amelia; he needs you to feed the part of him that wants to care for and guide another person. You complete him.”

  Amelia wanted to tell her that Garrett had other more practical needs, like the ongoing solid reputation of his family. But she merely replied, “I hope I can be all of that and more, Miss Steadwell.”

  * * *

  Hours later as she lay in bed after the governess tucked her in, Amelia knew she’d soon have a clearer picture of whether she could give Garrett what he longed for. The house was quiet as she rose from her bed and donned her robe. The full moon illuminated the grounds outside her window, but even so she took a candelabrum from the mantel of her fireplace to light her way through the dark halls. The house seemed even more intimidating at night, the Darmley ancestors even more judgmental and severe as they glowered down from their portraits.

  When she got to the bottom of the long stair, Amelia extinguished the candles and made her way down a hall illuminated by moonlight through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The foyer was dark at this hour, and her heart pounded as she headed out alone from the safety of the house.

  For the past two days she’d studied every maid and every footman, hoping one of them would shoot her a glance of fleeting acknowledgement, the signal to let her know whom she would be meeting. But none came, and as she approached the carriage house by the light of the November moon, her heart pounded with fear of the unknown.

  “Hello?” There was a single sconce burning inside the stone building when she walked in, illuminating the two coaches the Darmleys used for travel. “Hello!” she called again, this time louder.

  “Lady Chesterfield.”

  The smooth male voice spoke her name softly, the speaker stepping from behind the larger of the two coaches. For a moment, Amelia struggled to place the elegant raven-haired servant, and then remembered him as the valet who’d been in the room the day she’d met Lady Darmley.

  “You’re… Mr. Dobbs, correct?” She had a sudden fleeting memory of how he’d been staring at her that day in the hallway when she’d looked back at him. He’d made her uneasy then. He made her uneasy now. “You’re the one who wrote me?”

  “I am.” He moved toward her. “I know it’s highly unorthodox, and I realize it was a risk to have you come here. But I knew you would. You’d do anything to keep from hurting the Darmleys, would you not?”

  He was just inches away now, his broad chest at eye level. Amelia looked up at him. There was a small smile on his full lips, and his dark eyes were kind as he looked down on her. She allowed herself to relax a little. His voice was gentle. Perhaps she’d been wrong in her impressions.

  “Yes,” she said, pulling her robe tighter against the chill of the carriag
e house. “Garrett has been very good to me. I love him, Mr. Dobbs.” She paused. “You said you could help me?”

  “Yes.” He took her hands gently in his. “But I need you to trust me. Because if you don’t, they will be utterly destroyed. And it will be your fault, Lady Chesterfield. It will be all your fault.”

  The stress of holding in her fears broke at his words and she began to cry.

  “There, there. I didn’t mean to upset you.” His hand found her arm, his touch gentle. And then Amelia felt Henry Dobbs pull her to him. She stiffened, but let him, not wanting to upset the man who had promised her the only hope against the threat of exposure.

  He kissed her before she could even comprehend it was happening. One moment the valet was clutching her in a comforting embrace. The next moment his mouth had descended on hers, his hold so tight that she couldn’t move. The shock of it, in fact, had all but immobilized her.

  “Mr. Dobbs? What’s going on here?” The stable boy Amelia met in the barn the day before had entered and stood looking with shock at her and the valet, who released her and stepped back. “Is that…”

  “Yes,” Dobbs said. “It’s Lady Chesterfield.”

  “But she’s… isn’t this the young lady about to be married to Lord Darmley?”

  Amelia felt her heart began to pound. She was speechless with shock, and a dread settled over her as she looked up at the man who was still clutching her arm.

  “She was,” he said, “although I don’t think he’ll want her once he finds out about us. Of course, it doesn’t have to be that way…”

  The stable boy’s face reddened. “Like I’d protect the likes of you, you arrogant arse. No one likes you, Dobbs.” The lad turned his attention to Amelia. “And good riddance to you once his lordship finds out. And he will. I’ll not protect either of you.” The lad turned then, running from the carriage house.

  “Wait!” Amelia screamed, trying to follow, but the valet’s grip on her was too strong.

  It was all too clear now. She’d been set up, and in the worst way imaginable. Amelia tried to pull away, calling after the stable boy. But he was already running from the carriage house toward the manor. She turned to Dobbs, her face stricken, her legs so weak that she found herself sinking to the ground.

  “Why?” The word was ripped from her by an inner hurt that was almost palpable. “Why?”

  Dobbs looked down at her coldly. “Because you deserve it, thinking you’re so much better, you noble families with your airs and your arrogance. You think this hurts, seeing your dreams ruined? Try having your life ruined. Try entering service as a young man and serving a society that refuses to acknowledge your rightful place as one of their own.”

  Amelia tried to pull away. He was gripping her tightly now, hurting her. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “You look at me and what do you see? A valet. An ambitious servant who—if he’s lucky—might one day rise to a position like Holloway’s. But you are wrong. I’m just as noble as you. I’m Lord Taverny’s son, Lady Chesterfield, although he’d never own up to it. Bastards don’t get a mention by the great men who father them. No. They turn their backs on them, just as they turned their backs on the maids who bore them. They stand by in all their arrogance, as their own children become servants. At the fox hunts, when the valet brings the port, the great man on his horse never even bothers to look down upon the son handing him the glass.”

  Now Amelia felt a chill. “My God… you served the port that day. At the hunt… to Taverny!”

  “Clever girl,” he said. “It was drugged, and the old bag of guts should have died in the fall. But he lives.” Dobbs smiled. “I hear he’s confined to a chair now. Somehow that’s better, knowing he’s trapped in a life he never wanted, just as he trapped me in this one.”

  Amelia tried again to pull away. “But what does this have to do with me and this family? What have we ever done to you?”

  “Oh, the Darmleys have done plenty. Your precious Garrett’s father is Taverny’s best friend. He knew of his dalliances, of how he covered up the children born to maids, how he had us shuffled off to orphanages or workhouses or pressed into service.” His lip curled into an angry sneer. “Pompous Winston Darmley. Did you know he’s been buggering Holloway for longer than you’ve been alive? And his lovely wife, Lady Aster Darmley? Let’s just say she also has a taste for lads—ones in service, like me.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Amelia did not want to believe what she was hearing, but something about the odd demeanor of the Darmleys told her this man spoke the awful truth. “And pray tell, what does any of this have to do with me?”

  “Isn’t it plain?” he asked. “You’re my consolation prize. If I can’t have a noble lady, a fallen one will do. If it didn’t matter to Garrett Darmley that you’re used goods, why should it matter to me? And I set it up so perfectly. The stable boy who just happened upon us? I know his routine. This is where he beds down each night a little after nine. For the past month, I’ve done all I can to make him hate me. I’m sure he’s already sought out Holloway with the news…”

  “Oh, God, no!” Amelia was crying again.

  “Can you imagine poor Garrett’s face,” he continued with a smirk, “when he learns that his precious little girl was caught with a servant for the second time. He’ll be destroyed. And so will his mother. The stable boy wasn’t the only one I’ve been grooming. It seems you and Aster Darmley have something in common—a deep need to submit. It’s amazing what a woman will give you once you master her—information, money, trust. I’ve made her hate you, Amelia. She’ll hate you even more after this. Do you think for a moment that either of them will ever forgive you? To Lady Aster, it will seem you stole my heart. To her son, it will seem that you gave me yours. I’m taking you away, Amelia. You’ll be my little one, not his. The house will be in turmoil, the air there poisoned just as surely as I poisoned Lord Taverny.”

  Amelia began to struggle wildly now. “You’re mad!” she said. “I am not a prize for the taking. I’d rather die than be with a monster like you!”

  He laughed at this, pulling her roughly to him as he pushed the robe and gown from her shoulder to expose the bare skin.

  “If I’m a monster, then I’m a wolf. And I’m looking forward to savoring the taste of victory of the house of Darmley, starting with you, my little morsel!”

  A click got both their attention and Amelia cried out in surprise.

  Lady Aster Darmley looked as cool and collected as if she were holding a teacup instead of a finely crafted pistol aimed at Henry Dobbs’ head. He released Amelia and stepped back, his hands up by his head. His eyes were nervous, then calculating.

  “Thank God you showed up,” he said, dropping his hands to point to Amelia. “When the little bitch summoned me here, I thought she just wanted to talk…”

  “Shut up, Dobbs.” Lady Aster’s tone was as bitter as the chill breeze blowing in through the door behind her. “I heard everything from outside. When you told me you couldn’t meet me tonight, I… disobeyed your order to keep to my room and followed you here. When I saw my son’s betrothed heading for the carriage house, I’ll admit my mind went to a dark place. Here was my worst fear—the man I’d come to care for betraying me with the woman my son loves. Then I find that’s what you wanted me to think.”

  She raised the pistol higher. “The girl’s right, you know. You are a monster. But you’re no wolf. You’re just a half-bred cur, Henry Dobbs. And that’s all you’ll ever be. A mutt.”

  “You bitch!” The valet charged at Lady Darmley, and Amelia screamed as a shot rang out, the blast so deafening that for a moment her ears rang from the sound of it. The carriage house was filled with a smoky haze, and the next sound she heard was the moaning of the wounded valet writhing on the ground.

  Lady Darmley did not even acknowledge the injured servant as she walked over to Amelia and gently reached out to pull the younger woman’s gown and robe up over her shoulder. There wa
s a lap quilt in the nearby coach and she picked it up and put it over Amelia’s shoulders.

  As the women walked away from the carriage house, men came running toward them.

  “Find a rider to fetch my son home from business. Tell him that Lady Chesterfield was apprehended and attacked by Henry Dobbs but is not harmed,” Lady Darmley said. “Tell him I witnessed it myself. See that Dobbs is held until he is jailed.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Believe nothing that he says.”

  Chapter Thirteen: A Lady’s Confession

  “I was a fool, you see. A complete and utter fool.” Lady Darmley placed the teapot back on the tray and then took her seat across from Amelia, who was still reeling from the evening’s events. She never could have imagined the secret life Garrett’s mother had been living.

  “Did you really love him?” Amelia asked.

  Lady Darmley smiled sadly. “I thought I did. But even a woman of my age can deceive herself. I realize now that I simply loved the way Henry Dobbs made me feel. I’ve been fortunate in a lot of respects, my dear. I knew early in my marriage that my husband wed me only for duty. He wanted a single heir from me, and I was happy to fulfill this obligation since I knew it would buy me all the freedom within a marriage that I longed for outside of one. I never wanted to be tied down to one person. But as I’ve gotten older, I suppose I’ve come to long for some permanence, that sense of being not just special but cherished.” She smiled sadly. “Perhaps even owned.”

  “And Henry Dobbs promised you that?” Amelia asked.

  “Yes,” she replied with a sigh. “He did. And what’s more, he made me want it even more by comparing what I longed for with what you will have with my son. He made me jealous of you. And then he used the control I let him exert to gain my confidence and even my money. I suppose he thought he could abscond with you.”

  Amelia shuddered. She didn’t doubt it either. Among the things found in Dobbs’ possession had been her missing clothes.