“Kindly keep your opinions to yourself. I shall take no notice of them.”
“Oh, I think you must. They are so sensible, you see.”
For a moment this outrageous statement threatened to rob Sophie of the power of speech. Then she found her voice.
“How true! What could be more reasonable than a demand to become your spy and put my life and that of my son in danger? Why, such suggestions must be commonplace in genteel circles!”
Hatton’s eyes twinkled as he looked at her. “So the kitten has claws? Well done, Mistress Firle!”
Dear Reader,
The Regency period is a favorite with authors and readers, perhaps because it produced a most attractive air of confidence in men and women alike. This makes it fun to write about, and strikes a chord with readers today. The stories may be set two hundred years ago, but human beings do not change.
The heroes may seem cold and ruthless, and a law unto themselves, but they are always men of honor, and susceptible to love like other men. And although in those days women had few rights, many had great strength of character—the heroine of this book, Sophie Firle, is one of them. I hope that you’ll enjoy this story as a young widow struggles against all the odds for the survival of herself and her son—with a bit of help from an attractive stranger, Mr. Hatton…
Best wishes,
Meg Alexander
MEG ALEXANDER
The Gentleman’s Demand
Available from Harlequin Historical and
MEG ALEXANDER
The Sweet Cheat #164
The Gentleman’s Demand #179
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MEG ALEXANDER
lived in southern Spain for many years. Meg now lives in East Sussex—although, having been born in Lancashire, she feels that her roots are in the north of England. Meg’s career has encompassed a wide variety of roles, from professional cook to assistant director of a conference center. She has always been a voracious reader, and loves to write. Other loves include history, cats, gardening, cooking and travel. She has a son and two grandchildren.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter One
1810
In the gathering dusk of a winter afternoon the long low parlour was filled with shadows. A few logs smouldered on the hearth, puffing out occasional gusts of acrid smoke. Neither of the occupants of the room appeared to notice. Then the man began to cough.
‘For God’s sake send for candles, girl!’ he snapped. ‘And send for someone to tend this fire before we choke to death.’
Such a fate might be better than further hours of argument, Sophie thought wearily. She kept that sentiment to herself as she rose to ring the bell.
‘The wind must have changed direction,’ she said quietly. ‘We’ve always had a problem with this chimney…’
‘Would that it were your only problem!’ The man fell silent as a servant entered the room. It was but a momentary respite. As the door closed behind the boy he picked up the lighted candelabra and carried it over to his daughter’s side, setting it on the table by her chair.
‘Just look at you!’ he snarled. ‘To think that any child of mine should be living under these conditions! I shouldn’t have known you for the girl you were six years ago.’
‘What did you expect?’ Sophie cried in desperation. ‘Have you no mercy, Father? It’s but a month since I was widowed…’
For a moment there was silence. Then, with a visible effort to control his anger, Edward Leighton spoke in a softer tone.
‘Forgive me for distressing you, my dear, but I can’t see your loss as anything but a blessing. You are still young, and you have your life before you. Come home with me and make a fresh start. We shall find some way of glossing over your absence for these past years. A single mistake may be forgiven, serious though it was…’
‘A serious mistake?’ Sophie gave a bitter laugh. ‘Father, you haven’t changed. How lightly you dismiss my marriage…’
His face darkened. ‘I never took it lightly. It was the worst blow of my life. I gave you too much freedom, Sophie. When you eloped you ruined all my hopes for you, and with such a man! You could scarce have chosen worse.’
‘Stop!’ she cried. ‘You shan’t disgrace Richard’s memory.’
‘Others did so long ago. You won’t pretend that he was aught but a penniless nobody, possessed of neither character nor probity?’
Sophie’s eyes flashed fire. ‘How dare you say such things? You didn’t know him.’
Her father gave an ironic laugh. ‘I decided to forgo that honour. Others were not so fortunate. Why was he dismissed from the Revenue Service? Can you tell me that? I heard some talk of corruption.’
Sophie rose to her feet and eyed him with disdain. ‘I never believed those lies. There was a plot against him.’
‘Others believed it. The evidence was strong, and the authorities were in no doubt. You knew better, I suppose?’
‘I refused to listen to rumour, or to believe those trumped-up charges.’
‘Still as headstrong as ever, Sophie?’ Edward Leighton sighed. ‘I must admire your loyalty, even though it is misplaced.’
‘You’ll never understand, so there is no point in speaking of these things.’
‘Very well. I haven’t come to quarrel with you. My dear, nothing will restore your husband to you, but life must go on. It is early to speak of it, but in time you will remarry… With rest and an easier life you will regain your looks, and then we’ll see. William, you know, has never married, and he is of a forgiving disposition.’
Sophie stared at him. ‘So that’s it!’ she said slowly. ‘I might have known that there would be some reason for your sudden change of heart. It wasn’t concern for me that brought you here. Unwed, I am of use to you again.’
Her father was quick to rebut the charge. ‘You are grown so hard,’ he complained. ‘Must you pick me up on every word? Your mother and I are thinking only of your happiness.’
‘And that of Sir William Curtis too, no doubt. I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you. You’ve always coveted his fortune and his lands.’
‘Was it so wrong to want the best for you? I could never understand why you took against him.’
‘A man with the reputation of a lecher? Father, you were blinded by his wealth.’
‘No man is perfect, Sophie, as you must have learned by now. All this high-minded disregard for comfort and position proves to me that you are still a foolish girl. It is not the way of the world.’
Sophie did not answer him.
‘There is no hurry for you to wed again,’ he said in a coaxing tone. ‘We shall not rush you into making a decision. William has shown great forbearance. He has forgiven you your—’
‘My silly misdemeanour in marrying another man? How noble of him. I wonder, will he accept my son as well?’
Edward Leighton’s face grew dark. ‘Don’t be a fool!’ he snapped. ‘I’m not suggesting that you bring th
e boy.’
Sophie looked at him in disbelief. ‘What are you saying? You can’t mean it! Christopher is your grandson.’
‘No!’ he cried. ‘I’ll have no whelp of Firle’s beneath my roof. You must send him for adoption…’
It was enough. Sophie rose to her feet. ‘I always thought you hard,’ she said. ‘But this is unbelievable!’
‘You may believe it, my girl. Was I ever hard with you? I gave you everything—’
‘Everything but understanding, Father—’
‘Pah! A child should be dutiful and obedient to the wishes of its parents. You had no experience of the world. At seventeen, how could you decide where your best interests lay?’
‘Not with Sir William, certainly…’
‘Firle was a better choice? In my view he was lucky not to be transported.’ A bitter laugh preceded his next words. ‘You don’t agree? Tell me, then, where did he find the money to buy this place? It is a well-known hostelry. Have you any idea how much it must have cost?’
Sophie shook her head and turned away. It was a subject which had often troubled her. ‘He had friends…’ she whispered.
‘That, at least, is true, but who were they? Did you ever meet them?’
Her silence gave him his answer.
‘I see that you did not. You didn’t think to ask? Well, after all, it was not a woman’s place to do so. I don’t blame you for your ignorance, but you must face the truth. The man you married was a handsome weakling, seduced by the opportunity to make easy money.’ Squire Leighton looked at his daughter and sighed. ‘You aren’t the first woman to be deceived by such a creature, and you won’t be the last, more’s the pity.’
Sophie began to tremble, but she faced him squarely. ‘You shan’t say those things of Richard—’ She could not go on.
‘Stuff! What do you know of men and their desires? Firle was on the make, my dear. His prayers were answered when an heiress fell into his lap. He must have thought that I’d forgive you once you were safely wed.’
‘I know better!’ Sophie was on her feet, her cheeks aflame. ‘He wouldn’t have touched a farthing of your money, and nor would I, even had you offered it.’
‘There was no danger of that.’
‘No, you made that all too clear. You cut me off completely, Father. In these last six years I haven’t heard a word from you. I wrote to Mama, but I had no reply. Did you forbid her to answer me?’
‘I did.’ Edward Leighton looked about him in disgust. ‘Would you have had her visit you here, in a common alehouse? How pleasant it would have been for her to see her daughter mixing with all and sundry!’
‘I’m not ashamed of it. It is an honest living.’
‘Bought with the proceeds of corruption?’
Sophie controlled her anger with an effort. Then, as the gusting wind sent rain lashing against the windowpanes, she changed the subject.
‘The storm grows worse,’ she observed quietly. ‘Will you stay here tonight?’
‘I must leave within the hour. Sophie, you haven’t answered me. Come home to us. One mistake may be forgiven. It will soon be forgotten—’
‘As I must forget my son?’
‘I meant what I said.’ Her father’s lips tightened. ‘I won’t house that reminder of your folly.’
‘Then there’s no more to be said. I thank you, Father, but I can’t accept your offer.’ Sophie glanced through the window. ‘Won’t you stay?’ she asked again. ‘You won’t wish to travel in this weather.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that. I may tell you that nothing would persuade me to remain beneath your roof. Of all the wicked, ungrateful girls…’
‘I’m sorry you feel like that.’
‘I do, and I wash my hands of you. You’ve made your bed. Now you must lie in it. It will break your mother’s heart, but you must make no attempt to get in touch with her. From now on I have no daughter, and nor has she.’ He pushed past her and stormed out of the room, calling for his carriage as he did so.
Sophie stood by the fire, listening to the bustle as his horses were put to. She felt sick at heart as the carriage rolled away, but he was asking the impossible. Nothing would have persuaded her to part with her son. Christopher was her life.
There had been no question of her falling in with his demands, but the stormy interview had shaken her to the core. The shock of seeing her father had unnerved her, but a feeling of desolation was soon followed by anger. Then that too faded, giving way to despair. What was she to do?
On the day that Richard died she’d closed the inn, wanting only to be left alone. A dreadful lethargy had possessed her, and when her servants began to drift away she’d made no effort to stop them, knowing that she could not find their wages. Richard had left her penniless. It was but one more blow to add to those she had already suffered.
She felt very cold. Shivering, she moved closer to the glowing fire, standing before it with a hand on either side of the mantelshelf. At least her father’s visit had succeeded in shaking her out of the apathy which seemed to have paralysed her will.
On the day of the tragedy she’d felt that she could not go on, struggling against the fates which seemed to delight in dealing her so many cruel blows. Had it not been for Kit…
Her lips curved in a faint smile. Thank God he was so young. He, at least, had been untouched by what had happened.
She glanced at the clock. Kit had been sleeping for an hour. He wouldn’t wake just yet. Meantime, she must try to think of some solution to her problems.
Perhaps she could sell the inn. Then she’d be able to move from this isolated spot and make a new life for herself and her son in one of the larger coastal towns.
Absorbed in planning for the future she stood on tiptoe, studying her reflection in the mirror above the mantelshelf.
It wasn’t surprising that her looks had shocked her father, she decided. Grief had taken its toll upon her face, and the grey eyes looked enormous against the ivory pallor of her skin. She twisted a lock of hair between her fingers. It felt lank. She couldn’t remember when she had last washed it and the heavy mass of auburn curls no longer shone.
She wrinkled her nose. The smell from the burning logs was worse than ever. Then she gave a cry of terror. This was the smell of burning cloth. Glancing down, she saw that her skirts were badly singed and yellow tongues of flame were beginning to race upwards. She stepped back quickly, but it was too late. She was already ablaze.
Screaming, she beat wildly at her skirts, but to no avail.
Then she was enveloped in folds of heavy cloth and thrown roughly to the ground. Strong hands beat none too gently at her garments as she was rolled back and forth.
Frantic with terror, Sophie struggled to free herself, but she was powerless in the iron grip of her rescuer.
‘Lie still!’ a deep voice ordered roughly. ‘And for God’s sake stop that squawking.’
Sophie had little option. The unceremonious handling of her person had left her breathless, but at last she managed to push away the cloth which covered her head. Then her eyes fell upon a kneeling figure who was still slapping at her skirts.
It was too dark to see him clearly, but when he picked her up and carried her over to the settle she realised that he was very large. He picked up the candelabra, knelt in front of her, and began to examine the damage to her gown.
‘No harm done!’ he said at last. ‘You’ve lost a gown, but not your life. Have you no sense at all? Headstrong you may be, but I must doubt that you are fireproof.’
‘I…I wasn’t thinking…’ she faltered weakly.
‘I won’t argue with that.’ Satisfied that he had extinguished the flames, her rescuer tugged at the bell-pull and ordered brandy.
Sophie shook her head as he thrust a brimming glass towards her. ‘I hate the taste,’ she said.
‘Drink it, ma’am! You’ve had a shock!’ His tone brooked no argument. Certain that he would be obeyed, he turned away, filled his own glass, and sat down,
studying her intently.
Sophie returned his gaze. She had never seen this man before and she felt a twinge of panic. The harsh features, thrown into strong relief by the faint glow of the candles, were forbidding. Deep lines seamed his face across the brow and beside his mouth and his dark eyes held no trace of warmth.
Sophie regained her composure slowly as she sipped at the brandy. She could not imagine what this man was doing here. The inn was closed.
‘I must thank you, sir,’ she said cautiously. ‘I believe you saved my life.’
The stranger said nothing.
Sophie tried again. ‘May I know your name?’ she asked.
‘I am Nicholas Hatton. The name can mean nothing to you.’
‘How should it? We have not met before. I’m grateful for your help, but how came you to be here?’
She heard a short laugh. ‘Why, ma’am, I am staying here. Is this not a public hostelry?’
‘It is, but we are closed. I have few servants here…’
‘No? Your man gave me a key…’
‘Matthew should not have done so. I’m sorry, but you must leave…’
The man glanced towards the windows, which were rattling in their frames, obscured by the pelting rain.
‘Come now,’ he said smoothly. ‘Will you turn me away on such a night?’
Sophie was alarmed by his persistence. Tall and broad, he might prove to be an ugly customer if thwarted, and Matthew would be no match for him.
Now she regretted her folly in admitting that most of her servants had left. Had this stranger come to rob her? If so, he would find little of value on the premises. There was nothing here worth taking, but she and Kit might be in danger if he didn’t believe her. At best he might search the place, and at worst he might attack her.
Meg Alexander Page 1