To Love a Lord: A Victorian Romance Collection

by Crosby, Tanya Anne

  In broad daylight Merrick summoned his motley band together and told them the truth. He trusted them to keep what he would tell them close to their vests. He had to trust them, because he needed their help to put an end to Hawk once and for all. After today, Hawk would live and breathe no more.

  With open mouths, they sat in the middle of a field on Glen Abbey’s parklands—at Merrick’s request, unmasked. Their expressions revealed only stunned surprise over Merrick’s confession. None of them had—nor could they have—suspected, for he and Ian were identical twins.

  Despite himself, Merrick had come to care for these men as though they were his own fellows; he wanted them to take no more risks with their lives or with the welfare of their families.

  “What of our children? How will we feed them? How will we support them?” the men questioned irately.

  “Every one of you has more than enough coin to invest in your newly acquired land. I suggest you put it to good use.”

  Rusty’s gaze snapped up to meet Merrick’s in surprise. He was the only one who’d caught Merrick’s choice of words. “Our land?”

  Merrick nodded. “Yours.”

  Angus asked, “So you’re going to give it to us? But I thought Ian said it wasn’t his to give.”

  “It wasn’t, but I’m certain it’s mine—for now—and I am giving it to you. In any case, I cannot believe my brother would begrudge you this small gift for your loyalty.”

  “Och,” Donald said in surprise.

  “Go home,” Merrick charged them. He mounted his horse, eager to return to Chloe. “Go and burn your masks,” he instructed them, then grinned. “And while you’re at it, buy a boar or two. I want to smell a bonfire on the horizon tonight. It’s time to celebrate!”

  “That’s it?” asked Rusty, his face crestfallen, looking suddenly melancholic as Merrick prepared to leave. “Not you… nor Hawk… I mean, you won’t be…”

  Merrick instinctively understood what Rusty was asking and he meant to put the man’s mind at ease. He looked pointedly at Rusty Broun, though he was speaking to each and every one of them. He had learned so much from them and their friendship humbled him. “My door—and I’m certain I speak for my brother, as well—will always remain open to you gentlemen.”

  “Did you hear that?” Donald exclaimed in a whisper, ribbing Angus. “He called us gentlemen!”

  “Aye, an’ ’e gave us land,” said Angus.

  Overhearing their banter, Merrick grinned, pleased with their enthusiasm. “Under one condition,” he reminded them. “If you want that land, you have this final task to accomplish all together… make certain Hawk never robs again. Put him to death once and for all,” he commanded, “and the land is yours to do with as you will.” He whirled his mount to ride away, but peered over his shoulder. “Oh, and when you’re through,” he shouted over his shoulder as he rode away, “you’re all invited to attend a wedding!”

  Chapter 20

  “There you are, madame,” said Edward. “The remainder of the books… as you requested.”

  “Oh, good!” Fiona exclaimed. “You found them!” She had begun to wonder if he would ever deliver them, but felt far more at ease now that he had. If Edward had something to hide, she reasoned, he wouldn’t have brought them to her with such a cheery demeanor. “Where were they?”

  “Hidden under too many layers of dust,” Edward disclosed. “But here they are at last.”

  Fiona sighed, relieved. “Thank you, Edward. Will you bring me my tea?” she requested. “Would you mind terribly?”

  “Not at all, madame,” Edward said, turning at once to do her bidding, gritting his teeth over the injustices of having to fetch tea for his half-brother’s cast-off mistress.

  He was born for better things than this.

  But, as a last gesture of humility, he personally made her tea, then delivered it to her. He set the cup down on the night table, but she scarcely noticed it, she was so engrossed in the blasted ledgers.

  He closed the door, cursing her along with Julian’s bastard sons. “Happy reading,” he said beneath his breath.

  * * *

  Chloe knocked softly on Fiona’s door. She was growing quite concerned as Fiona hadn’t called for Chloe’s attendance in days. It was very unlike her.

  “Who is it?”

  “Chloe.”

  “Come in,” Fiona bade her, but there was something odd in her tone.

  Chloe opened the door and was startled to find such a disarray within the room. Walking past row upon row of ledgers, Chloe eyed them curiously. “Good Lord, my lady, what’s all this about?”

  “Please… close the door,” Fiona said in a hush. The expression on her face was that of consternation.

  Chloe carefully retreated through the precarious stacks to close the door, then made her way back through the mountains of books to Lady Fiona’s bedside.

  “Look,” Fiona said, urging her closer. She motioned for Chloe to sit on the bed. Chloe did as she was asked, noticing that Fiona’s fingers trembled as she opened a particular book and set it before Chloe.

  Chloe hadn’t the first inkling what it was she was looking at.

  “Let me explain,” Fiona said, her voice trembly. It was clear to Chloe that she was quite distraught. “These are the household ledgers. They go back to the day when I took over Glen Abbey Manor… er, rather, the day Ian’s father took it over.”

  Chloe drew her brows together in confusion. “I don’t understand. I thought Ian’s father was a merchant.”

  Fiona shook her head, her eyes full of regret. “God forgive me for all the lies. I was so ashamed. Ian’s father was not a merchant, Chloe,” Fiona said, her eyes misting. “He was…well… he was, as I have said, a prince.”

  For an instant Chloe thought Fiona might have gone completely mad, but something about the desperate look in her blue eyes convinced her. She remembered the tales and said, blinking, “So it’s true? You married a prince?”

  Fiona shook her head again, and this time her expression was melancholy as she told Chloe about Ian’s real father.

  “I’m afraid there is so much more,” she added, but Chloe didn’t know what to say.

  Fiona’s eyes glazed over with tears and her expression turned to one of such terrible sorrow that Chloe wanted only to hug her—and she might have, but one did not hug Lady Fiona. She was sweet and kind, for certain, but there was a distance she kept from everyone, including her son.

  Her eyes met Chloe’s and they were full of torment. “Ian has a brother,” Fiona said, nodding, tears pooling in her eyes. “His name is Merrick.”

  Chloe’s hand lifted to her mouth in shock.

  “A twin,” Fiona revealed.

  Something snapped in Chloe’s head; clarity came to her at once.

  “Oh!” Chloe said, holding her hand up for Lady Fiona to pause in her storytelling, “Just a moment.” She hurried back to her room to grab the ring from where she had hidden it beneath her pillow, and then she returned, proffering the ring for Lady Fiona’s inspection. “Do you know what this is?” she asked.

  The look of shock on Fiona’s face was palpable. Her cheeks paled and her eyes grew wide. She seized the ring from Chloe. “Where did you get this?” she asked frantically.

  Chloe knew suddenly just as surely as she stood in front of Lady Fiona that it wasn’t Ian she loved. “Your son gave it to me,” she said.

  “That’s impossible!” Fiona declared with certainty. “Ian hasn’t the first inkling of his past or he would have confronted me ages ago. Do you know what this is?” she asked Chloe, holding up the ring.

  Chloe shook her head.

  “It is the royal crest of Meridian.”

  Chloe stared at the ruby stone.

  She had known something was different about him. But if Ian was Merrick, where was Ian?

  Chloe sat, stunned, staring at the ring.

  Fiona began to weep. “Dearest God… it must be Merrick!” She clutched the ring to her breast as a heart-
wrenching sob tore from her throat. To Chloe, it sounded as though it had come from the very depths of her soul. “I didn’t even know him.” She peered up at Chloe. “Where is he now?” Tears streamed from her eyes.

  Chloe shrugged, at a loss for words. He had come to her last night, but she daren’t confess as much to Fiona. The mere thought of it burned her cheeks.

  “You must find him, Chloe,” Fiona charged her. “It is imperative! Let me show you something.”

  Again, she returned to the ledger. “We are supposed to keep a detailed accounting of every penny we spend at Glen Abbey Manor. If ever we spent too much, Julian—Merrick’s father—has threatened to remove us from the estate. But look at this…” She pointed to one, two, three entries that had no detailed explanation for the sums withdrawn. Each line of withdrawal held an extraordinary sum.

  “What does that mean?” Chloe asked her.

  Fiona shook her head. “That’s just it. I have no idea! Edward claims they are miscellaneous expenditures and claims, furthermore, that they are monies he dispatched to Ian.”

  She lifted her cold cup of tea from the night table and guzzled from it, her hands trembling. “I don’t believe it! Knowing what I know of my son, he would not take money and hoard it. And he would not lie to me.” She set the teacup down, and made a face as it rattled over the saucer. “Absolutely disgusting! But I’m so thirsty!”

  “Shall I go get you something to drink?” Chloe asked, wanting to help but not knowing what to do.

  “No!” Fiona said firmly. “Do not concern yourself with me. You must go and find my son.”

  “Yes, madame,” Chloe said.

  “Please, Chloe, do not call me madame!” Fiona reprimanded. “Go, now! And please hurry!”

  Hearing the hysteria in Fiona’s voice, Chloe wasted little time. She went, at once, to search for Merrick.

  * * *

  Edward had been waiting in the shadows for his opportunity to sneak into Lady Fiona’s room, but Chloe came knocking and he’d stood there in the hall for what seemed an eternity while those two spoke in hushed tones inside the bedroom.

  At one point, he’d put his ear to the door only to hear what he could hear, but their conversation had been reduced to muffled whispers.

  This was not good.

  At last, Chloe emerged. With a wary glance down each end of the hall, she rushed toward the stairwell.

  Edward followed.

  The way she was behaving, he feared she must know something. Fiona must have spilled her guts to the girl.

  He couldn’t take any chances.

  He followed her all the way to the stables, lifted up a board that had fallen and waited. When her back was to him, he rushed forward, smacking her once on the back of the head. She crumpled without a sound, like a paper flower doused with water.

  Chapter 21

  Merrick had but one thing left to do before confronting his mother.

  He spent the greater part of the evening at the cottage penning a letter to his father. He’d needed complete peace to consider how to best address the matter. It was a delicate situation; he was going to marry Chloe and he didn’t intend to wait to do it. If his father wished it, he would remarry her in a traditional ceremony in Meridian, but that would be left to his father to decide. For all Merrick knew, if he could deny one son, he could surely deny another. He might well disown Merrick for what he was about to do, but that was a chance Merrick was willing to take. If he must live on the streets in order to be with Chloe, he would gladly do so only to be by her side. He finished the letter and went into town to hire a messenger to carry the letter to the London apartment where he and his father had taken up temporary residence, then made his way back to the manor. The distant smoke of a bonfire caught his scent and he smiled, pleased that his men had taken his advice. In fact, he felt damned good about the decisions he’d made.

  But, as he neared Glen Abbey Manor, he spied the orange glow in the evening sky and frowned. It was far too bright to be only a bonfire, he realized, and the smoky scent filling the air grew thicker as he drew nearer.

  His heart racing at the obvious conclusion, He spurred his mount into a gallop.

  Glen Abbey Manor was on fire!

  A bellow tore from his lips as he reined in before the raging inferno.

  His first thought was for Chloe; his second for his mother. But Merrick knew his mother was unable to fend for herself and it was Fiona he knew he must go after first.

  Bracing himself for the worst, he kicked open the front door. Smoke was heavy, but there were no visible flames. Fortunately, Fiona’s bedroom was on the ground floor and he made his way there first.

  It was in the gallery he met the wall of flames, angry tongues of fire licking the walls, searing through portraits, reducing them to shriveled caricatures before devouring them whole.

  Just beyond the gallery, he could spy the door to his mother’s room. Merrick stood in the hall, trying to determine how best to reach her when his mother’s door suddenly flew open.

  For the briefest instant she stood there on both feet, choking on the smoke, and then an explosion of flames roared past her, knocking her backward.

  He didn’t stop to think what it meant that she had been standing. He sucked in a breath as he leapt through the flames toward her. He reached her by the sheer will of God and lifted her into his arms, ignoring the slivers of flames that tore through his shirt and torched his skin.

  Choking back the smoke from his own lungs, he made his way toward the window, knowing there would be precious little time to waste once he broke the glass. With his mother en tow, he slammed his fist against the window, shattering glass. Not caring that it cut his flesh, he continued to whack at the shards until there were none remaining to bar the way. Then, he slipped through the window with his mother on his back. They made it out barely in time. The fire exploded into the room, engulfing it fully.

  Spewing smoke from his lungs, Merrick dragged his mother out far enough that she would be safe from the flames.

  By now the servants had begun to filter out of the house. One of the maids came scurrying to Fiona’s side to aid her mistress, holding out her arms so that Fiona might lay in her lap and her head would not rest on the dirty ground. Merrick deposited her into the woman’s arms. The maid wept softly over Fiona’s still form.

  Peering up at the house on fire, Merrick’s heart wrenched painfully. The servants’ quarters were on the third floor, he realized. Chloe’s room was on the third floor.

  He scanned the faces on the lawn, noting at once that Chloe wasn’t among them. Panic seized him, taking his breath away. “Where is Chloe?” he asked.

  The servants all shrugged, each in turn as he met their frightened gazes.

  “Oh, dear God—no!” he shouted, and he ran toward the house. But the front door was barred by a solid wall of flame. The house was completely engulfed.

  He had no inkling how many came to restrain him, but he fought desperately to get into the house aflame. They wouldn’t release him. Speaking to him in words he could not comprehend because his heart was screaming, they dragged him away from the inferno as the roof caved in right before his eyes.

  No! It was too late!

  He sank to his knees. “Chloe,” he cried, swallowing the knot that rose like a mountain in his throat. He suddenly couldn’t breathe. He knelt on the lawn, numb as grief swept through him like a dark plague.

  They dragged him backward to where his mother lay.

  Fiona began to cough and spew, waking. She looked up into his face, tears filling her eyes. Her hand fell open, revealing his ring, but Merrick was too stupefied to acknowledge it.

  His heart felt as though it had been ripped from his chest.

  “Merrick,” she said softly, calling him by name.

  Her arms stretched toward him and he couldn’t help himself. Like a broken child, he fell into his mother’s arms, weeping, not caring who would see.

  * * *

  Chloe moaned in p
ain. “You’ll never get away with this.”

  “Of course I will,” Edward replied, his mood entirely unruffled by her threat.

  Chloe’s head hurt. She felt as though he had surely cracked her skull. “Fiona already knows you were embezzling. She’ll tell Ian. He’ll come looking for you.”

  The horrid man had her trussed up and twisted down on the carriage floor while he sat above her, casually placing a foot on her ribs as though she were some sort of hunting conquest.

  He laughed a laugh that grated upon her nerves. “Fiona is dead,” he said with certainty, “Ian is worthless.”

  Dread swept through her. “What have you done to her?”

  He peered down at Chloe and smirked, digging his heel deeper into her ribs. She winced, but refused to cry out. She didn’t intend to give him the satisfaction.

  “She had a little accident with her lamp,” he disclosed, his tone smug. “It seems to have turned over during the night and caught the draperies afire. You know how these things happen. Tsk, tsk. Haven’t you told her more than once she must not leave the lamp lit?”

  Chloe’s heart cried out for poor Fiona stuck in her bed. She imagined what it must feel like to be trapped by the failings of your own body. Anger surged through her. Chloe wanted Edward to be afraid. God help her, she wanted to strangle him with her own bare hands!

  “If you have no fear of Ian,” she told him, clenching her teeth, “perhaps you may of Merrick.”

  He peered down at her, cocking his head, his brows colliding. “How is it you know that name?”

  Despite that Chloe was afraid, anger was her ally. The tiny note of panic in his voice gave her strength. She smirked at him. “He’ll hunt you down. And he’ll kill you with his own bare hands. Make no mistake.” That was… if Merrick had the first inkling where to look for her… or even to look for her at all.