A Ravishing Night With The Mysterious Earl (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Olivia Bennet

  “I will explain everything to him. He will not let this happen.”

  Lord Beaurgant chuckled. “He is the one who sent me to pursue you. He has already promised that I may have you as my wife, for who else would? All I need to do is spread a hint of gossip, as to where you have been and what you have been doing, and your reputation will be in tatters for the rest of your days. And I will pick up the pieces and wed you anyway. There is no path you may tread that does not end with us, together, at the altar.”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks as she turned away, tortured by the knowledge that what he said was true. After all, it was her father who had made the match in the first place. She could not rely on him to save her and, since she escaped the last time, she was almost certain that she would be under constant watch until the wedding could be arranged.

  Simon…where are you? She had watched Captain McMorrow deal him a terrible blow to the face, but it had not stopped her from praying that he would follow her. Now that they were almost at Cowden Manor, she began to doubt that Simon would attempt to rescue her. She had lied to him, and she could not make reparations for that. Not without seeing him. Could she really blame him, if he did not want to pursue her? She had broken his trust, and she did not know if he could forgive her for that.

  “Simon will find me,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

  Lord Beaurgant snorted. “I find that highly doubtful. I have reason to believe that a little surprise has been left for him, at the docks. And I do not think he has the means to wriggle free, not this time.”

  Jemima frowned in worry. “What do you mean?”

  “It is none of your concern.”

  “What do you mean?” she barked, venom dripping from her words.

  “All I know is, he may be incarcerated by now. He has likely been hoisted by his own petard.” Lord Beaurgant chuckled proudly, the sound making Jemima feel nauseous.

  She shook her head. “He has committed no crime. He did not know who I was, so you cannot hold him responsible for wanting to wed me. I was the one who fell in love with him. I was the one who lied. He cannot be punished for my actions.”

  “This is not about you, Lady Jemima. My goodness, how conceited you are.” Lord Beaurgant sneered.

  “Then why would there be any reason for his incarceration?” Her hands balled into fists.

  Lord Beaurgant smirked. “As I said, that is none of your concern. And if you speak again, I will have to silence you. So, I suggest you quiet yourself, before we arrive at Cowden Manor.”

  With her heart in pieces, she tried to figure out what Lord Beaurgant might be alluding to. She could not fathom why Simon might be in prison, but Lord Beaurgant’s smug self-assurance gave her cause for concern.

  Had he somehow tricked or trapped Simon? Had he done something to hurt Simon? It certainly appeared as though something terrible was afoot, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it, before Simon could come to any harm.

  * * *

  The Duke of Cowden looked up in surprise as the butler knocked on the door. He was partaking in a late lunch and had not expected an intrusion. He had grown used to dining alone in the past few months, as his wife had fallen into a depression, from which she could not be roused.

  “Yes? What is it?”

  “There is a gentleman awaiting you in the drawing room, Your Grace.” The butler gulped. “And he has Lady Jemima with him.”

  “What did you say?” Andrew’s heart almost stopped.

  “There is a gentleman in the drawing room. It is Lord Beaurgant, Your Grace. And he has Lady Jemima with him.”

  Abandoning his soup, Andrew scraped back his chair and hurried out of the dining room, trying to slow his pace to a casual walk as he approached the drawing room. He had waited for this moment for such a long time, and now that it had arrived, he did not know what to do with himself. In truth, he had given up hope that this day would ever come to pass, for it had been weeks since he had last heard from Lord Beaurgant. And that silence, as far as he was concerned, had spoken volumes.

  He opened the door slowly, trying to figure out how he ought to react. All of his prepared thoughts ebbed away as he laid eyes upon his prodigal daughter, who sat in the nearside armchair, her eyes red with recently-spilled tears.

  Mournfully, she glanced up at him. He knew it was her, but she was greatly changed. Her hair was short, and she looked gaunt, with dark circles beneath her unusual eyes.

  “Jemima?” he murmured, barely able to speak.

  She nodded. “Yes, Father.”

  “You have been found. My goodness, you have been found.” He turned his attention to Lord Beaurgant, who sat triumphantly in the opposite armchair. “Do I have you to thank for this?”

  Lord Beaurgant smirked. “Who else?”

  Andrew walked towards his daughter and stood at her side, trying to come to terms with the fact that she had been retrieved. He did not understand why she looked so heartbroken, her eyes still glittering with brimming tears.

  “Might you allow us a private moment, Lord Beaurgant?” Andrew said, eager to speak with his daughter alone. Throughout her absence, his thoughts of her had ebbed and flowed, rushing between resentment and love, anger and forgiveness. Now, seeing her for the first time in months, all of those negative emotions evaporated. He just wanted to know if she was well, so they could begin to repair the rift that had been torn between them.

  Lord Beaurgant nodded reluctantly. “Of course, Your Grace.”

  Andrew waited until the fellow had gone, before he took the opposite armchair and leveled his gaze at his errant daughter. She did not seem eager to speak, her sorrowful eyes turned towards the flickering flames of the nearby fire.

  “Where have you been?” he said, his tone sad.

  “I boarded a vessel, Father. It took me far from here, and I should never have allowed myself to return.” A muscle twitched in her jaw. “I should have disembarked before Lord Beaurgant could get his hands upon me. I should never have come back. If I had known that he would seize me, I would have thrown myself in the ocean, whilst I had the chance.”

  Her words horrified Andrew. “You must not speak in so macabre a manner, Jemima. Do you know how worried we have been?”

  She sighed miserably. “I am sorry for any pain that I have caused you, but please know, it is nothing compared to the pain that I feel, at this very moment.” She turned back slowly. “You see, I fell in love whilst I was away, with a gentleman of means. An Earl, who loves me as I love him. Lord Beaurgant stole me away from him, and I fear that he plans to punish me brutally for it. I have returned to despair. And I should not have done.”

  Andrew frowned. “What nonsense do you speak?”

  “It is not nonsense, Father. I fell in love. His name is Simon Fitzwalles, and he is the Earl of Burhill. And I fear that something terrible may have happened to him.”

  “The gentleman who has been incarcerated for carrying contraband?” Andrew had read that very story, just this morning. It had been splashed across the papers, fresh off the press.

  Jemima’s expression changed to one of terror. “What did you say?”

  “Lord Burhill was incarcerated yesterday, for the crime of carrying contraband.”

  She shook her head. “No, that cannot be. He would never do such a thing. He is a good man, Father. A good man, who loves me.” Her voice trembled. “Lord Beaurgant must have something to do with this, I am certain of it. Please, Father, you must believe me.”

  “Why would Lord Beaurgant have something to do with it? That is ridiculous.”

  “No, Father, it is not. Lord Beaurgant is Lord Burhill’s cousin. I know it seems outlandish, but I had this awful feeling that Lord Beaurgant had done something terrible to Lord Burhill. If he has been imprisoned, then Lord Beaurgant must have done something to frame him. There is not a single chance that Lord Burhill has done this. He is an honest, wholesome, kind gentleman, who has done nothing but protect me, and keep me safe.”
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  “He cannot be what you say, if he allowed you to remain aboard his ship, knowing you were a young lady,” Andrew shot back, his anger flaring.

  “He did not know who I was, not entirely. I lied to him. I told him I was a lady of no means, and he believed me. That is his only fault. He cannot have done this. If he is prosecuted for this crime, they will be sentencing an innocent man.” Tears coursed down her cheeks as she spoke, her voice tremulous with desperation. It wounded Andrew, to see her like that, for he had never witnessed his daughter in true pain.

  Andrew sighed. “That will be for the magistrate to decide.”

  “They are not in possession of all the facts, Father. Please, you must allow me to return to Westport this instant, so that I may speak with the magistrates and plead his case.” Her body was shaking, her eyes glistening pools of heartrending tears. “Please, Father. I love him. I cannot allow them to tarnish him.”

  Andrew’s gaze hardened. “You will not be going anywhere, Jemima. After what you have done, you will not be permitted to leave my sight again. I have yet to decide what to do about Lord Beaurgant, but since you have given little thought to your own reputation, it seems likely that I will have to allow him to marry you.”

  She shook her head frantically. “Father, no. You said you wanted a better gentleman for me, and I have found him. And if you do not allow me to go to him now, then I will lose him forever…and I will never forgive you. Please, Father, I am begging you, with all my heart. Let me help him. Let me save an innocent man.”

  “You will go to your bedchamber, and you will stay there until I am able to discern what I shall do with you. If you try to leave, I will lock your door. Do I make myself clear?”

  She sobbed wretchedly. “Father…Father, please.”

  “Do I make myself clear?” he snapped.

  Immediately, she covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking as she wept violently. With every wrenching sob, he felt the tug of it within his own chest. His daughter was suffering greatly, but what could he do? She had taken far too many liberties already. How could she expect him to behave in any other way, after what she had done?

  “Get out of my sight, before I insist on having your door locked,” he said, his tone frosty.

  Without a word, Jemima leapt to her feet and tore out of the room, her footsteps audible on the staircase beyond. He continued to listen, until he heard the tell-tale slam of her bedchamber door. As the echo of it rang in his ears, Andrew sat back in his armchair and unleashed a weary, confused sigh. He hated to see his daughter in such agony, but he did not want to appear weak in the face of her thoughtless actions.

  No matter how he tried to, Andrew could not ignore the anger and suffering that Jemima had caused him. He would certainly not allow her to roam free again, where she might disappear in the blink of an eye. Despite her apparent distress, he could not stand to lose her again. And if that meant being cruel to be kind, then so be it.

  * * *

  A day passed, and matters remained unresolved. The Duke had tried to be firm, but it was becoming more difficult. Jemima seemed to be in very real torment, and the maids had informed him that she was refusing to eat. Meanwhile, his wife continued to hide within her bedchamber, claiming that she could not bring herself to look upon their daughter.

  The only constant presence within the house was Lord Beaurgant, though Andrew had sought to avoid him at all costs. He was grateful to the fellow for brining Jemima back, but he could not ignore the sense of dread that he felt, whenever he looked upon that odd gentleman. Jemima’s words haunted him.

  Would he really seek to cause her harm, in revenge for what she did? He wished he could believe that Lord Beaurgant was not capable of such cruelty, but he could not.

  Dining alone once more, as everyone seemed to have abandoned him, Andrew looked upon the day’s papers. News of Lord Burhill covered the front page, searing into Andrew’s mind, and reminding him of his previous conversation with Jemima. Is he innocent? Could my daughter be right? It certainly gave him some food for thought, as he pushed his dinner around his plate, his appetite gone.

  Andrew had not mentioned it to Jemima, as it had not seemed like the right time, but he had encountered Lord Burhill on a number of occasions. They had spoken at discreet gatherings in London and Bath, and Andrew had always found him to be a remarkably intelligent and pleasant individual. Naturally, the gossipmongers had twisted the tale of him becoming a merchant into a sensationalist diatribe, but Andrew had found that news rather awe-inspiring. It took nerve to do something like that, and he admired strength of character and ingenuity.

  It does not seem to fit with his character. Andrew tapped his chin in thought. In their brief encounters, there had certainly been no indication that Lord Burhill might be a bad sort of fellow. Indeed, Andrew had felt quite the opposite, for he recalled Lord Burhill attending on the more senior ladies who had been present. He had been gentle and kind and had gone out of his way to ensure their comfort, even though he bore no relation to them.

  This does not seem like the gentleman that I met. Nor did it corroborate with what Jemima had told him of Lord Burhill. If this fellow had truly protected Jemima, and kept her safe during her escape, then he at least owed it to the gentleman to visit, if only to thank him.

  Yes, that would be reason enough. And if he happened to ask Lord Burhill about the situation, whilst he was there, then that could simply be viewed as a bystander’s curiosity.

  After all, if this gentleman really did love Jemima, and she loved him, then he felt it his duty to investigate. Jemima had been right about that. He had wanted a better husband for her, and he had always liked Lord Burhill. But I shall have to investigate in secret, so as not to upset Lord Beaurgant.

  There was something incendiary about Lord Beaurgant that unnerved Andrew, as though he might explode at any minute, and reveal an ugliness beneath.

  These past months had given Andrew time to dwell upon the situation that had torn his family apart. He knew he shared some of the responsibility, though that had been a hard pill to swallow. If he had been more open to listening to Jemima, then her escape might never have happened. Yes, children had a duty to their parents, but that did not mean they ought to be ignored entirely. He had learned that the hard way.

  Jemima had put them all through a great deal of pain, but that had not changed his love for her. She was his daughter. He would always love her, though he was not particularly good at showing it. By doing this, he reasoned he might be able to fashion an olive branch, with which to build a bridge between himself and her. A physical showing of his responsibility in what had occurred, with the hope of a reciprocal apology.

  Even if it turned out that Lord Burhill was guilty, he would at least be able to tell Jemima that he had spoken to the gentleman she loved. Hopefully, that would be enough to begin the restitution, for above all else, he hated to see her so broken. Drowning in such sadness, he was terrified she might attempt to run again…or worse. For that reason, he felt compelled to aid her, as she had asked. Although, he was not going to tell her that just yet.

  Leaving his dinner to grow cold, he rose from the table and made his way out to the stables, careful to avoid the main corridors in case Lord Beaurgant happened to see him. He could not risk anyone dissuading him against this course of action.

  “Your Grace, might I assist you?” the ostler turned in surprise, as Andrew entered.

  He nodded. “Yes, I should like my horse saddled immediately. If anyone asks you where I have gone, you must inform them that I rode to Borrowdale, to speak with the constables there. Tell them that I have decided to stay the night in town, rather than ride back in the darkness.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  “Thank you.”

  Andrew waited impatiently as the ostler saddled his horse, his heart thundering in his chest as he contemplated what he was about to do. This was most unlike him, but he did not want his daughter to endure any further pain. When
she was born, he had sworn an oath to do his best for her. He had forgotten that, in recent years, but he would not forget again.

  If there was even the slightest chance that Lord Beaurgant was not what he seemed, and had darker tendencies that leaned towards the criminal, then Andrew owed it to his daughter to discover that side of him. In truth, he was curious in himself, to find out if he had chosen the wrong gentleman for Jemima.

  I will find out, soon enough.

  Chapter 35

  Simon stirred from a restless slumber, awakening to the sound of someone calling his name.

  For a moment, he imagined it was Jemima, come to comfort him in his time of need. But, as he opened his eyes and let the world come back into focus, he realized that she was nowhere to be found. Instead, a vaguely familiar gentleman stood at the bars of his cell.