His Cinderella Bride

by Annie Burrows

  ‘I don’t care for dancing, to tell you the truth.’ Hester smiled at him. ‘In fact, I would be grateful if you would engage to sit one out with me later on.’ She held out her dance card and hinted, ‘I particularly dislike the waltz.’

  ‘Then consider yourself rescued from it.’ His smile was genuine as he marked her card.

  ‘That was well done,’ Jasper murmured, taking her by the elbow and steering her through the crowd. ‘If more women were as gracious as you, Fawley might not have sunk into the state he got in last summer.’

  Hester felt as if her heart had grown wings. She had finally done something he approved of. So flustered was she that she did not notice he was steering her on to the dance floor until he said, ‘I know you do not care for the waltz, but perhaps you would make an exception just this once?’

  His arm snaked round her waist, and Hester was so happy that it didn’t occur to her to object. Even when the music started, and Jasper began to move her about the floor, her euphoric state did not diminish. And before much longer, she realised that for the first time in her life she was truly dancing. She did not have to force her feet to mark time with the orchestra. There was no sense of being compelled to do something against her will. The two of them were moving as though they were one. She didn’t want the music to end. She wanted to carry on dancing, held secure in Jasper’s arms, until she dropped to the ground from sheer exhaustion. Nor did she want Jasper to let her go even then. She never wanted him to let her go. She wanted him to fold her closer, to crush her against his chest.

  She looked up, startled, to find the music had stopped, and Jasper was frowning down at her.

  ‘Was it so bad?’ He took her arm, and calm as you please, escorted her to the chairs that ringed the dance floor.

  ‘No.’ Her voice was dull with disappointment that it was over, and Jasper had emerged completely unaffected. ‘Not so bad at all.’

  She sat beside Lady Augusta during the next set, to give herself time to pull herself together. And reflect. Dancing could be enjoyable when your partner was someone you trusted. What she had always hated, even more than the physical contact, had been the feeling of being in another person’s power while they were propelling her about the room. Why didn’t other women feel like that? Em certainly did not look as though she felt under Mr Farrar’s power as he twirled her round. The look of lofty contempt on her face suggested that though she had agreed to dance with him, she was not, and never would be, any man’s plaything.

  At last it was supper time. Several couples took their loaded plates into the dimly lit conservatory, which lay beyond the dining room, but Jasper sat her beside Lady Augusta, and began to quiz her about the conversation she’d had with Captain Fawley during the second waltz.

  She quartered a glazed cherry pastry with her fork and wondered how difficult it would be to detach Lord Lensborough from his mother, and lure him into the conservatory. Other couples were taking advantage of the secluded benches dotted amongst the thick foliage. How hard would it be to get him to put his arms about her again if she could persuade him to take her in there? Perhaps even to kiss her?

  She stared glumly at her plate. Impossible. He had only kissed her that once to seal their betrothal. She watched Jasper dig his spoon into a dish of gooseberry fool. If he had wanted to kiss her again, he’d had plenty of opportunity. They went riding every morning, and invariably lost their chaperons, and all he did was talk about politics. It was not, she thought as he licked a dab of creamy dessert from his lips, that the kiss had been all that delicious. It was just that if he kissed her, then she would know that he liked her, and was not just tolerating her for the sake of his rigid sense of honour.

  ‘Um, excuse me.’ Hester tore her fascinated gaze from Jasper’s mouth, to see Em hovering at the table.

  ‘Would you mind coming with me to the ladies’ withdrawing room for a moment?’

  Hester leapt to her feet. She had to get away from Jasper, right now, before she yielded to the temptation to attempt something scandalous. Helping Em repair a torn flounce, or whatever it was her friend wanted from her, was exactly what she needed to be doing.

  To Hester’s surprise, Em did not make for the stairs, but darted instead into one of the rooms that led off the long corridor that led back to the ballroom. Once she had made sure nobody else was inside, she locked the door behind them and began to pace the floor, wringing her hands.

  ‘Em? Whatever is the matter?’

  She stopped pacing, and drew herself to her full height. ‘I kissed Stephen. Or at least, he kissed me.’

  ‘In the conservatory?’ Hester found herself saying wistfully.

  Em resumed her pacing. ‘Yes. But he started it. I only kissed him back. And I slapped his face first, I promise you.’

  ‘Well, of course you did.’ Hester sank on to a sofa. ‘You hate him.’

  ‘No, I don’t! I love him,’ she wailed. ‘I fell in love with him the first minute I clapped eyes on his smug, arrogant face.’

  ‘But you quarrel with him…all the time.’

  ‘Of course I do. Do you think I should have fallen at his feet the first time he asked me to go to bed with him? Laid my heart bare for him to trample on? He would have amused himself with me while he was staying at The Holme and left me without a backward glance.’

  ‘Oh, Em, that’s dreadful.’

  ‘He can’t now, though.’ Em laughed, though her eyes were dark with pain. ‘After I slapped him, he said he’d had enough of my temper. He called me a vixen, and held my arms behind my back so I couldn’t hit him again. And then he really kissed me.’ She swayed slightly. ‘And soon I was kissing him back, and somehow we ended up flat out on a bench with him on top of me. Then Countess Walton and Captain Fawley walked in on us. I could see them over Stephen’s shoulder, but I couldn’t make him stop. Captain Fawley yanked him off me.’

  ‘Goodness.’ Hester was glad she had not done any luring into the conservatory after all, if that was how it ended.

  ‘And then…’ Em covered her face with her hands ‘…Stephen said there was no need to make a fuss, because we had just got engaged and got a bit carried away.’

  ‘Engaged?’

  Em looked up at her, her eyes gleaming with defiance. ‘He’s got to marry me now. He said so in front of witnesses. I’m not going to let him go.’ Her face puckered. ‘He must hate me. Whatever shall I do?’

  If Stephen had only been toying with Em all along, the marriage was doomed. For one partner to love, hopelessly yearning for the other to love her back—a cold hand seemed to clutch at her heart. She was prophesying her own future. Jasper would never do more than tolerate her, while she…She gasped. Why had she never seen it before? She loved him!

  When had that happened? She looked back over the weeks since she had met him. When hadn’t he been at the forefront of her mind, goading her into all kinds of absurd behaviour? How could she have denied having such strong feelings for him?

  Em’s quiet sobbing brought Hester back to the present. ‘I think the best thing would be to go home.’ She pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and handed it to Em. ‘If you stay here, I will go and find Jasper.’

  Em nodded, and Hester stepped into the corridor in a daze. When had she surrendered her own will so completely into his? At one time she would have taken charge of the situation herself. Now, all she could do was blindly run to him.

  She could hear music. The dancing must have started again. She turned towards the ballroom, but before she had gone more than a few paces, someone came out of another of the side rooms, clapped his hand over her mouth, flung his arm round her waist, and pulled her backwards through the open door.

  He smelled of stale brandy, and cigar fumes and sweat. Nausea roiled in her stomach as she recognised her assailant and she kicked out at his shins, wishing she was wearing boots rather than these stupid ineffectual little sandals.

  Lionel turned her about effortlessly, using the weight of his body to pin her ag
ainst the wall, his booted feet sliding between hers and spreading her legs apart.

  ‘Now, now,’ he taunted her. ‘That’s no way to greet such a dear…’ he kissed her cheek ‘…close…’ he pressed his lips against her neck ‘…friend.’ He nudged the shoulder of her gown to one side and ran his tongue along her collarbone.

  She went mad, writhing and twisting, but she could not break his hold.

  ‘Don’t you know your struggles only make me more excited?’ Lionel gasped, pushing her legs farther apart. Hester froze when he ground his hips against her stomach, letting her feel exactly how excited he was.

  ‘That’s better. Much better.’ His voice was guttural. ‘Remember the promise I made you all those years ago? That I would come back and finish it?’ He pushed his hips against her again.

  Hester began to jerk violently. She knew it was useless. Lionel was much too strong, but she would fight him to the last breath in her body.

  His arm tightened about her waist, making it hard to breathe, while the hand he held over her mouth crushed her lips into her teeth. Her head started to swim.

  Suddenly, he eased the pressure, though he kept his hand over her mouth.

  ‘That’s not what I came for, Hetty. Much as I would like to, it won’t get me what I need. And what’s that, I hear you ask? Or you would ask if I let you speak. Would you like permission to speak, Hetty? If you can be a good girl, I could take my hand away from your mouth. Of course, you know what will happen if you scream, or try to escape, don’t you?’ He made a fist, running his knuckles over her cheek and down, down, over her left breast till it came to rest on her midriff. He ground it in, hard enough to show what he meant, though not hard enough to leave a bruise.

  He took his hand off her mouth. She could taste blood. And she felt as if she was covered with a layer of slime. Her very lungs felt tainted from breathing in the smell of him. Her heart was hammering and her legs—dear heaven, she could still feel the imprint of his knees between hers.

  He held her now only by the malice in his eyes. She dare not look away. Lord knew what he planned to do next. She had to be ready, she had to.

  ‘Remember I could have just taken you, up against that wall, and put a stop to your fine marriage.’ He wagged his index finger in her face. ‘I only stopped because it suits me to let him have you. You are too much of a handful for me long term.’ He leered.

  ‘So what do you want? What is the point of this?’ Hester managed to find her voice, though it was so hoarse she didn’t sound like herself.

  ‘Money. I need money. I told you that.’ He looked annoyed. ‘And you are going to give it to me.’

  ‘Why should I?’

  Lionel’s eyes narrowed. ‘To prevent me from telling everyone that, far from being a paragon of virtue, you are quite a dirty little slut. There are several gentlemen who would be delighted to hear that the fastidious Lord Lensborough has been made a laughing stock by a seasoned little temptress.’

  Hester felt the blood drain from her face. ‘I’m not…you can’t…’

  ‘Oh, but you are. And I can. Remember the summer house, Hetty?’ When she whimpered, he said, ‘Yes, I can see that you do. And the other times? What price Lord Lensborough’s ignorance, Hetty? Shall we say, five thousand pounds to begin with?’

  ‘I don’t have that kind of money. And even if I did…’

  ‘Oh, I can wait till you are married. It’s only a week or so to the wedding now, isn’t it? Just enough time for you to think of a way to wheedle it out of his lordship. Or persuade him to let you have control of your own funds. Your money, his money, I’m not fussy. So long as I get it.’

  Hester sagged against the wall. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he flung at her as he left the room.

  She sank to the floor, in the dark. Why had she ever believed she was safe? Lionel would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. He never had, and he never would. He would bleed her white.

  And Jasper—she buried her face in her hands. If he found out…She whimpered with pain as she bit down on her already bruised lower lip. He would be disgusted with her. But that was not the worst part. Once her secret was out, he would look like a fool. Lady Augusta was parading her as a model of chastity, when all the time she was…

  Blindly she groped her way to the door. The first thing she had to do was find him and tell him, not about this, but about Em. They must get home, and then, in the solitude of the little room with bars on the windows, she would have to come up with a plan to save Jasper.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Although Jasper explained that Stephen had only forced the compromising situation on Em because he had fallen for her hard, and was finding it impossible to breach her defences, Hester seethed with resentment every time she caught a glimpse of her friend’s strained features.

  Why had he not just courted her honourably from the first? No. That was far too straightforward for a man. He had told her he wanted to sleep with her, making it impossible for Em to trust anything he said or did afterwards.

  The carriage stopped, the footman opened the door and let down the steps, and Em shot into the house like a rabbit bolting down its hole.

  Jasper helped Hester alight with rather more decorum, and smiled down at her.

  ‘I think you are going to be occupied for some time helping Miss Dean accept the inevitable.’

  Hester gazed up at him, knowing only his ignorance could keep that look of amused tolerance on his features. He would never smile at her like that again. Casting caution to the winds, she flung her arms round his waist and buried her face in his neckcloth. At once, though they were standing at the foot of the steps in full view of the coachman and several interested footmen, Jasper put his own arms about her.

  She breathed in the scent of him, committing every muscular inch of him that pressed against her to memory, knowing this must be the last time she could savour the illusion of safety she had found in the solidity of his body.

  For she could not marry him now. She could not in all conscience take his money and use it to buy Lionel’s silence. Nor could she endure facing Jasper’s contempt when the truth came out, loving him as she did. It would kill her.

  Looking up into his dear, rugged features, she wondered if she dare ask for one last parting kiss. But as she searched his face, trying to garner the courage to snatch one last memory to take with her into the bleak future she must face without him, he groaned, ‘I cannot take much more of this.’

  And swooped, kissing her with all the ardour she craved. Hester opened her mouth, eagerly drinking in all of him, her own tongue tangling with his, her fingers clawing at the silk of his waistcoat as she tried to merge her whole being with his.

  It was Jasper who drew back, shuddering.

  ‘You must go inside now.’ His voice was harsh, his breathing ragged. Firmly, he took her wrists and put her away from him. She was trembling. Her legs felt boneless. Her breasts ached to press up against the solid wall of his chest. Her back was cold now he had withdrawn his arms.

  She was going to be cold and aching for ever. Aching for what she could never have.

  Stifling a sob, she tore her hands out of his and pelted up the steps before she gave in to the mad desire to cling to him, to beg him to never let her go.

  She dared not look back. She drove herself up the stairs and along the corridor to Em’s room, where she heard herself telling her friend what she had just learned of Stephen’s feelings, watching as tears of anguish turned to tears of joy.

  At least some good had come from this visit to London. Em and Stephen had been able to sort out their misunderstandings. She shut the door of the nursery behind Clothilde some time later, battling a sense of envy that there was no barrier to their happiness. They loved each other.

  She reached into the bottom drawer of the wardrobe for the bag she used to keep her knitting materials, and tipped the half-finished projects that were in it back into the drawer.

  While Clothilde had helped her prepare for b
ed, she had accepted there was only one avenue open to her. Since she would never give in to blackmail, nor marry a man who despised her, she must return to her Uncle Thomas and fling herself on his mercy. He would help her find a way through this unholy mess.

  She packed a few items necessary for overnight stops into the work bag and tied the lip shut. Then she sat on the edge of the low cot, balancing an upturned tray on her knees as a makeshift writing desk, tugged off her engagement ring and penned two letters.

  I cannot marry you after all, she wrote to Jasper, then hesitated. There was nothing else she could bring herself to tell him. I am sorry, she finished, and wrapped the page round his ring. He would understand, in time, when Lionel realised she was not going to part with a penny, and unleashed his venom. The whole of London would know. But she would be far away, and would not have to suffer Jasper’s contempt in person.

  She addressed the second letter to Em. This one was much easier to write. She knew Em would not feel able to stay under Lady Augusta’s roof once Hester had fled, so she gave her written authority to approach her man of business in the city, and take possession of the keys of Vosbey House. It was fully staffed, since the Gregorys had intended to stay there for Hester’s wedding, and Stephen would look after her.

  Now all she had to do was find her way back to Yorkshire. The prospect would have terrified her if the alternative, staying and facing the music, was not so much worse.

  Gripping her work bag tightly, she squared her shoulders and marched down the corridor to the back stairs.

  * * *

  Some two hours later, Evans knocked firmly on Lord Lensborough’s chamber door.

  ‘I am sorry, my lord, but there is a young lady who is most insistent…’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, get up!’

  Lord Lensborough sat up, and blinked as Em marched into his room, advanced on his bed, and, to his valet’s shock, snatched up his dressing gown and tossed it to him.