Besides, somewhere in the back of her mind May dreaded returning to her little cottage and her uncle’s scowls.
What in blazes could she say to explain her behavior? She’d run off without a word to anyone. Once again, her hot gypsy blood had led her to mischief.
* * * *
“I just hope you will not attempt to display that dry wit of yours tonight,” Lady Evers said as she settled into a settee in the drawing room. A moment before, Jeffers had delivered a pot of piping hot tea to the room, sniffed haughtily, and quietly slipped out with a glower tugging down the corners of his lips.
Radford declined the tea and barely acknowledged his mother. His thoughts were still on his missing filly. Teams of men were out searching, literally beating down the tall grasses, for her. If not for his injuries, he too would be out riding through the fields. Like a hobbled pony, he was stuck listening to his mother prattle happily about his future.
“Well?” his mother said sharply. “Do I have it or not?”
“I beg your pardon, Mother.” Radford sighed when he realized he didn’t have a clue what she was asking him. “Do you have what?”
“Really, Radford. I do worry that your war injuries have addled your mind. You have been acting so strangely since returning home from that dreadful place. Will you please attend to me?”
Radford gave a curt nod and pushed his thoughts of Princess out of his head.
“Very good. Now, as I was saying . . . Do I have your word that you will behave like a complete gentleman tonight? No more jests about not wishing to marry Lady Lillian?”
Ah, so she’d been schooling him on how to ask for a lady’s hand in marriage. Radford ground his jaw and stood. He walked, letting the cane take the weight off his damaged foot, and crossed the room to stand in front of the large floor-to-ceiling window.
A figure in the distance caught his attention. Amber curls bounced with a delightful dishevel. Tempting hips swayed as May sauntered up the road. A gentle smile brightened her pursed lips.
What in blazes? Radford blinked twice to convince himself his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Princess, his errant filly, followed behind May like a truant pupil, wagging her head from side to side with each easy stride.
Lyles rushed out and greeted May, his arms gesturing wide arcs. Like a dark cloud passing in front of the sun, May’s smile faded. She glanced nervously toward the house. Radford stepped away from the window.
“Do you intend to ignore me completely? Is this how you aim to honor your mother and all I have endured?”
“I should go down to her,” he muttered. His mother’s shrill voice barely registered in his head. His thoughts were so completely wrapped around the sight of May that everything else in his life disappeared—especially his injuries. “How in blazes did she manage to bewitch my horse?”
“Radford! Attend me this instant!”
He turned in response to the shout. His mother had risen from the settee. She floated across the room like an angered specter. “What is distracting you? What do you see?”
Her eyes narrowed as she peered out the window. “Who is that dreadful-looking young woman? Something about her seems familiar.”
Dreadful? The sight of May’s pretty form added new colors and a new depth to the world. How could anyone describe such a miracle as dreadful?
“You met her the other day,” Radford said rather stiffly. “She is Miss May Sheffers.”
“Sheffers? I don’t know that name.”
“She is a friend of Lady Lillian’s.”
His mother’s brows furrowed further. “And what is she doing here . . . without a proper escort . . . and looking as wild as a hoyden? Certainly she will not seek to speak with you.”
He could only hope.
Lyles had draped a loose rein over Princess’ neck. He pointed toward the house, no doubt inviting her inside. May raised her hands in front of her and stepped back.
She didn’t want to see him.
How could he blame her? He’d confused her with his brash kiss and then clumsily blurted out why she shouldn’t marry that money-hungry Tumblestone. Of course she refused to believe him. Only a fool would believe a tale presented so callously.
She thinks you want her for your bed.
“There is nothing improper about Miss Sheffers,” Radford explained to his mother. The elfin princess was far too proper to even consider becoming his mistress. If only there were some other way . . .
The marriage list he and Wynter had created burned in his pocket. There was no need to retrieve it and review the qualifications he required from a wife. The words were seared in his head. He could recite them in his sleep.
According to every point on that list, May was ineligible. She could never make a proper wife.
Lady Lillian could.
“She won’t come up.” Remaining a passive observer and watching her turn away from the house was the hardest thing Radford had ever done. “I don’t believe she wants even a crumb of my friendship.”
“As well she shouldn’t.” Lady Evers breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s shocking enough to see her appear at your door like that.”
“I believe she found my horse.” Something precious inside him spiraled down into a bleak hole. “I owe her a debt of gratitude. She’s afraid of horses, you see.”
“Your horse, Radford? The spirited, wild filly that attacked your affianced? I thought we agreed you would get rid of that troublesome beast.”
“I didn’t agree to any such thing.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. His gaze followed May as she retreated. He found it impossible to turn away from the window and the sight of her delightful swaying gait.
His mother’s gaze bounced between the window and Radford. “Oh dear,” she said quietly, “I really must do something about this.”
“About what, Mother?” he asked. His thoughts returned to that cursed list. Something felt fundamentally wrong about it. But perhaps it wasn’t the list at all. Perhaps there was something fundamentally wrong with him.
Even if he were to throw propriety and logic to the wind and dash after May to declare undying love, nothing would change. She spurned his friendship, his offers to help, his overtures for passion. Her rejection kept him planted firmly in the drawing room.
A man so broken, so confused about his worth in life, could never hope to lure a fey spirit like May’s into his soul. She deserved a man with the ability to unlock the gilded cage that held her. She deserved to soar with the clouds.
As he watched through the window, May glanced back at Longbranch House. Was it his imagination, or did he see the same longing that burned in his chest reflected in her bright eyes? Could there possibly be a chance for a future with her?
No. No. No. The answer had to be no.
There was no love between them, only longing and a curious emotion Radford didn’t quite know how to describe. His passions toward May felt as comfortable as a friendship, only more heated.
What a blasted mess. He dragged a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands.
Lady Evers captured his wrist and kept his manicured fingers from further mussing his hair. “Don’t fret about the future, Radford. I will keep the path clear for you. You will see. Your decision to marry Lady Lillian is the right thing. This match is something that would make your father proud.”
Her eyes glistened prettily. “And you will make me proud tonight—and bestow happiness on a very lucky young lady.”
Happiness? Why hadn’t he thought to put anything about his happiness on that marriage list? The list, so like his life, had become muddled by the limitations of logic and duty.
Chapter 17
Life would be so very different if she possessed Lady Lillian’s delicate looks or Lady Iona’s gentle manner. May stiffened her chin and sniffed back some unruly tears. If men refused to see past her birth, her nature, and her looks . . . well, she wanted no part of such a world.
She would survive.
Her parents abando
ned her. And she somehow managed to survive. Society matrons treated her like a servant. And she barely blinked. Her aunt’s health weakened. And she was forced to become something stronger than she ever imagined she could be. She more than survived.
Why should a little trifling like a broken heart trouble her?
Back straight, head held high, and prepared to face her uncle, May marched back to her cozy little cottage. She would confront him with Radford’s accusations and insist that Aunt Winnie demand her brother’s assistance and support.
Although this moment felt tragically like an ending, May reminded herself that it wasn’t. This was a wonderful, glorious beginning. A new adventure lay before her on the horizon.
Things would be different, and she would be stronger without a certain dashing viscount meddling in her life. Things would be better . . .
May jolted to a sudden stop. Uncle Sires’ carriage was no longer waiting in front of her thatched roofed cottage. The shades inside were drawn, the windows dark.
A crimson-tinted cloud reached out overhead, signaling the approaching end of an utterly perplexing day, and May could not stop a feeling of dread from snaking through her veins. The cottage looked different, somehow. Something was wrong.
Horridly wrong.
“May!” a breathless voice called out to her. Lady Iona waved her arms as Lord Nathan deftly steered his new curricle down the road. May tilted her head back and looked up at the pair as the curricle pulled to a halt on the road in front of her. Pins were slipping from Iona’s hair, and her dress was smudged with dirt. Tears stained her rosy cheeks.
“Whatever is the matter?” May asked. Her friend would never appear in public in such a state unless something was terribly amiss. “Please tell me it isn’t—”
“Your aunt, May. She’s collapsed. We’ve been searching everywhere for you. Where in Heaven’s name have you been?”
“No,” May gasped. She charged into the stone-still cottage, tears streaming down her face. She should have never run away. She should have never . . .
“Aunt! Please, please, no . . . ”
Portia appeared in the foyer. Her lips tightly drawn, her hands in constant motion, she lowered her head. “I am so sorry, Miss Sheffers. You poor, little mite.”
May heard Lady Iona and Lord Nathan follow her into the house. She felt supportive arms hugging her shoulders. But her mind could not take it all in.
“Aunt Winnie?” How would she survive without her aunt? Her legs melted beneath her, and she sank to the oriental carpet covering the foyer floor and silently wept. “I must see her. I must ask her to forgive me for not being here.”
Lord Nathan cleared his throat. He padded nervously around the small entranceway. “It seems your housekeeper bravely tried to keep Lord Redfield from carrying her to his town house, but he would not be dissuaded.”
“Oh, that is correct, Miss Sheffers. Your poor, poor dear aunt was so weak. He insisted he care for her.” Portia heaved a weepy sigh. “He cursed something fierce until I thought my ears might bleed.”
May lifted her head slowly, fearing sudden motions might wipe away that small bud of hope. “Aunt Winnie is alive?” With a sheer force of will, she made her legs support her. “I must go to her. She needs me.”
“Of course.” Lord Nathan took May’s arm and led her back outside.
“But-but, Lord Redfield. . .” Iona sputtered.
“Blast the man. He will just have to tell her himself,” Lord Nathan grumbled.
May was much too upset to wonder about that exchange. She let Lord Nathan help her up into his curricle. Iona snuggled in beside her, and within a minute, they were racing through the paved streets toward her uncle’s town house in Queen’s Square.
Aunt Winnie was strong. She would recover. She would simply have to . . . May wasn’t prepared to accept any other ending.
* * * *
“I was told not to let anyone enter.” Uncle Sires’ butler sneered down his nose at May as he spoke. She recognized him from Redfield Abbey. He’d been the Abbey’s head footman the last time she’d visited. In no way did his off-putting manner dissuade her.
“I beg your pardon,” she said, keeping her voice dangerously level. She made sure her devilishly violet eyes glared daggers into his. “I care not one whit about what you were told. My aunt is inside and I intend to see her.” She paused for a dramatic beat. “Step aside.”
“I would do as she commands,” Lord Nathan said. He folded his arms across his chest. Lady Iona, bless her, did the same. A united front poised for battle.
“Very well.” The butler stepped to the side of the doorway. He made no attempt to lead them to a parlor or to Aunt Winnie’s room. Instead he left them stranded in the impressive marble foyer. “I will tell his lordship that you have arrived.”
May had no intention of standing around while the butler and her uncle discussed ways to deny her. Aunt Winnie needed her. She would open every closed door in the house, if need be, to find her.
As the butler scuttled off toward the back of the house, May took to the stairs. Lord Nathan and Iona followed along silently.
A low murmur of voice rumbled behind a closed door at the end of a long hall. May rushed toward the sound. She tossed open the door, not worried about anything beyond seeing to her aunt’s welfare.
Two men were bent over her aunt, who was lying all too still on an elegantly appointed bed. The room looked like it had been decorated to house a fairy-tale queen. At least her aunt was finally getting the comfort she had always deserved, May thought as she rushed to her side.
“How is she?” May asked. She knelt beside the bed and gently lifted her aunt’s hand to hold it against her chest.
“Only time will tell,” the white-haired man closest to her said with a slight shake of his head. “She is weak.”
“She has been overtaxed with worry,” Uncle Sires’ voice boomed into the room. “I will not have you and your unseemly manner endanger her further, child.”
May carefully laid her aunt’s hand on the soft bed. She lovingly stroked Winnie’s smooth cheek and said a small prayer for her recovery before rising to face her uncle.
“I have more right than you to stay with her,” she said in an oddly calm voice. “You may be able to take away my money. You may be able to take away my future. But I will stand up to the forces of hell before letting you take Winnie from my life.”
“Please,” the doctor said, ushering everyone to the door. “She needs quiet. She needs to rest.”
The instant May stepped her toe outside the bedroom door Uncle Sires captured her wrist. He mercilessly dragged her through the hall and down the stairs. May tripped over her feet as she tried to keep up with the brutal pace. Lord Nathan stepped in and attempted to save her but was swiftly pulled away by two burly footmen draped in bright red livery.
“What do you mean to do?” May asked. She twisted her wrist, trying desperately to break free. There was a murderous gleam in her uncle’s eye that made her heart slam against her ribs. “What do you mean to do?”
“Something I should have done years ago,” he said and gave her arm a vicious tug. She stumbled down the last three steps. Her knees slammed against the hard, marble floor in the foyer. He didn’t give her time to pull herself back to her feet. His pace unbroken, he dragged her across the floor and into a dark, oak-paneled study.
The door slammed closed behind her. The lock clicked.
“You are an abomination . . . just like your father. I can’t stand to look at you, a grotesque mixture of his blood with mine.” He loomed over her. A menacing grimace transformed his features into a mask of pure hatred.
He leaned down until his lips were a mere hair’s breadths from her ear. His fiery breath struck her cheek as his voice crackled. “I cannot allow this willful existence of yours to continue, child,” he threatened, jamming a leather horsewhip just under her nose. “I intend to beat it from you once and for all.”
* * * *
; Where were the blasted rains? The skies were darkening as evening approached, the pale moon rising, and not one blasted cloud to be seen. Radford didn’t wish to gaze on the moon as his open landau carried his mother and him to the Newbury townhouse in the center of Bath.
The moonlight reminded him of May and the night he first kissed her. She’d been bathed in the spectral glow of the heavens flowing in the tall window in the Newbury’s darkened library. A fey goddess illuminated by natural elegance.
An unattainable spirit, who would soon be engaged to a man very anxious to beat all that was special and loveable from her small body.
His hand curled into a very tight fist as the carriage bounced over a rut in the stone-paved road. Just picturing May married to another man . . . entering the marriage bed with another . . . it was too much to bear.
He much preferred the rains and the aching muscles and misery the damp weather brought with it than to gaze on the shimmering, oval moon and think of May.
A family ring, an ancient piece of art with a miniature crest etched into a cabochon-cut ruby, sat nestled in the breast pocket of his coat. Within a few hours he’d slide that ring onto Lady Lillian’s slender finger and pledge himself—body and soul—to a woman he may never be able to love.
His mother snuggled up beside him and cooed happily.
“Tonight will be magical,” she whispered. The landau’s driver slowed to turn onto Bennett Street. “Just a few more blocks, Radford. Your future waits for you in the Royal Crescent. I couldn’t be more proud.”
She squeezed his hand. Her grasp felt light, fragile through his leather gloves.
This night was for his mother. He would give himself to Lillian, vowing to her fidelity and security in exchange for a brood of children.
This was his gift to his mother. She’d suffered so much because of his injuries. Marriage to a beauty like Lady Lillian was no great a sacrifice in order to fulfill his duty to his family.
If only the rains had fallen. With that blasted moonlight shining down on his face and the stars twinkling mysteriously all through the nearly black sky, he couldn’t seem to keep his thoughts from straying to May, a most unsuitable woman.
The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection Page 15