Legacy Redeemed (Redeemed, Restored, Reclaimed Book 1)

by Aubrey Grayson

  Julian gave her a last dismissive glance. “Don’t speak to me again, certainly not in public.” His toga did a bit of a regal swirl as he turned away, her future departing with him.

  Hector had informed her today that her dowry was gone. He’d claimed bad investments, but she suspected the bad investments had more to do with gambling debts than stock exchanges. There was no hope for her to marry now. No hope for her to escape Hector’s grasp.

  “Wait! Julian!” she hissed, though she wanted to shout, desperate to hold on to him but not interested in making a public scene. “I will sue you for breach of promise.”

  He stopped walking and stood still for a moment. Then he slowly pivoted, a nasty smirk on his face. “Excellent plan, Susannah. Just have your father show the betrothal documents to the magistrate. I’m sure that will clear everything right up.”

  Her face grew warm. She had neither father nor betrothal documents. She wanted to rage at him, but she held her tongue. Hector had said something similar to her this morning.

  He stepped toward her. “No? You don’t have those?”

  She wouldn’t have believed it possible, but his smile grew even nastier.

  “Well, no matter. Any witness to our alleged betrothal will do. Just have them pop over to the magistrate’s office and give a deposition, and I’m sure you’ll win your case.”

  Her mind raced, trying to think of someone who would support her. But she realized he had hardly mentioned their betrothal to anyone. The few he had told were his closest friends, who would never defend her in court. And if what he said was true, they might have been in on the sham anyway.

  And the times she had accompanied him out were to events where it would not have been unusual for a man to take his mistress. Like the theater. She had been so proud to be seen with him. She hadn't even thought about the possibility.

  He smirked at her, shaking his head. “No more threats, Susannah. It is over.” He said the words gently, quietly. No need for force now that he had clearly destroyed her. And then he left.

  His footsteps faded away, and the numbness she’d felt during the conversation faded as well, leaving in their wake a riot of pain. She tried to catch her breath, but her throat was swelling shut. She managed a few painful gasps but couldn’t draw much air before she had to gasp again. Her arms and legs trembled, and she reached out to the wall to steady herself. The wave of nausea that had surfaced earlier crept back to trouble her once more.

  She had come here to escape Hector’s control. She had never thought her marriage to Julian would be the kind young girls dreamed about. She hadn’t expected the love that her parents had. But for a while, he’d made her feel pretty and interesting. And he’d given her hope of freedom. She’d thought him good and kind, which could never be said of her guardian. And now it turned out they were cut from the same cloth.

  Her breath came easier now, and anger curled up around her desolation. Anger at Julian and Hector, anger at society for rejecting her instead of coming to her aid, and even anger at her parents for leaving her at the mercy of such a rogue. And that was when she felt the heat streaming down her face. Sadness she’d learned to contain, but anger—well, apparently, anger would out.

  She heard the ballroom door open. Discovery was near. The last thing she needed was a member of society to find her here, weeping. She might not be able to avoid her future, but she had to escape this ball, and soon.

  ***

  Nick’s waltz partner, the girl in the Roman outfit, thanked him for the dance and rushed away, heading, as she said, toward the refreshment table. She glanced at him once more over her shoulder, and when she saw he was still watching her, she smiled nervously and gave an awkward little wave. In another moment, she was lost in the crowd, most likely never to be seen again.

  Strange. The thought made him a little disappointed.

  But he hadn’t much time to think on it, because the short moment he stood still, watching this mystery woman disappear, was all his aunt Minerva needed to swoop in and catch him unawares, still dragging her charge along behind her. He felt sorry for the poor girl. Surely she had better things to do than be dragged about behind his elderly aunt.

  “Aunt Minerva, dearest! So lovely to see you!” Of course, he would have preferred to see her clad in something else. He supposed her garb was intended to be that of a harem girl, and it would have been quite fetching on a woman no older than thirty. On someone’s elderly aunt, it was nearly ague inducing.

  The young lady couldn’t have yet seen her twentieth birthday. She was dressed all in white, in an approximation of a toga. Her blond hair was in a style that reminded him of statues of the ancients he’d seen in Rome. The ancient Romans seemed to be quite the inspiration for tonight’s festivities. Though he couldn’t help but think this girl would do well to avoid standing too near his mysterious dance partner, lest she be outshined.

  “Nick, darling!” said his aunt, reaching up for a kiss. Which he gave, of course, because despite the fact that he’d spent the past half hour desperately avoiding her, he was really quite fond of Minerva.

  He pretended shock. “Don’t let Alice catch you spoiling the fun. She’d be appalled to know that you’ve called me by name!” His eyes swept over to the debutante again, and he widened them even further. “And never say that you are about to introduce me to someone!” he said with mocking reproach. He’d always found it interesting that so many people committed wholeheartedly to the idea of a masquerade ball, walking around all evening ignoring their closest friends and family, some barely disguised at all.

  His aunt narrowed her eyes at him and gave a gentle little smack to his arm with her fan. “Don’t be foolish,” she said, her smile revealing that she knew he teased. “Have you met Lady Clarissa Peabody yet? She’s soon to be your cousin twice over!”

  This made him blink. He’d been expecting her to push the idea of a wife upon him. A cousin seemed more welcome. “How so?”

  His aunt tittered and shot an amused, exasperated look at Lady Clarissa, who smiled back obligingly. “Well, she’s to marry your cousin, of course.”

  Ah. Of course. Nick had precious few cousins, and most of those were female. His only eligible cousin was a rogue whom Nick preferred not to think about, let alone see. He hoped the pretty bow he made covered the pity he felt for the girl. “Nicholas Daventry at your service, Lady Clarissa. We shall welcome you to the family. But how twice over?”

  The girl opened her mouth to answer, but Aunt Minerva beat her to it. “Why, she’s already your cousin, or rather, your brother’s cousin by marriage!”

  “Ah, I do remember Alice saying her favorite cousin would be a guest at tonight’s festivities. But she neglected to mention your impending nuptials.”

  Lady Clarissa blushed a bit. “He only proposed this morning. It is all very sudden.”

  “I see.” A short, awkward silence followed, in which Nick tried to pretend enthusiasm for her betrothal. Finally, he realized that first, Alice would never forgive him if she realized he neglected to dance with her favorite cousin, and second, dancing a quadrille almost always put an end to awkward conversations. Much to his delight, he heard the opening notes of a quadrille, and he gladly swept his soon-to-be cousin onto the floor.

  The girl was an amiable dancer, and the formal dance steps did, in fact, limit their conversation. Nick was feeling quite satisfied with his course of action, when he suddenly noticed his dance partner stiffen. Nick allowed his eyes to follow the path of Lady Clarissa’s gaze. He saw a man dressed as Julius Caesar leaving the room. The man had a shock of white-blond hair that could only belong to Julian Weatherly, and he was accompanied by another woman, dressed in white like Lady Clarissa, but with rich, golden locks. Familiar looking locks. Locks remarkably like the ones on his earlier dance partner.

  Nick did what he could to distract the girl from what he expected would be the first of many times her future husband would embarrass her so. Sneaking off to be alone with women was one
of his cousin’s specialties. Though Nick must admit, it bothered him that Julian appeared to be trysting with that particular woman. Not that Nick had any claim to her, of course. Not that he would wish for any.

  The quadrille finished soon, and Nick happily found his brother and sister-in-law nearby. Alice beamed her approval that he had danced with her cousin, and Terence gave him a jovial pat on the back. But Nick soon excused himself from the conversation, feeling the need to find a quiet place away from the festivities.

  And if the direction he walked was the same way he had seen his cousin leading Nick’s former waltz partner, well, that was just coincidence.

  Chapter 3

  She did what any self-preserving woman would do and ducked into the first unlocked door she could find, hoping she wouldn’t happen upon someone’s tryst. She just needed a quiet moment to calm herself before she ventured back through the crowd. She certainly didn’t wish to see another person until she could regain her social facade.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when the room appeared to be a rather deserted library, complete with a comfortable seating area. It looked like just the kind of place one would love to curl up with a horrid novel and laze away a rainy day. Not that she was in the mood for reading.

  What she was in the mood for was raging. Throwing a complete and utter tantrum. She threw herself down on a sofa like a small petulant girl. Just a few short years ago, she’d had every expectation that her life would be like that of any other girl of gentle, if not noble, birth. She expected a season, and an excellent reputation, and marriage to a man of similar standing. She was no heiress, but she and her sisters had each had a respectable dowry. She’d never catch a nobleman of course, but she’d not expected to. Things should have been…fine. That was all she’d hoped for. Just fine.

  And somehow, instead, what she’d gotten was disaster. Her parents had died and left her to the worst of all possible guardians. In fairness, they hadn’t meant to. It had been a case of unfortunate timing.

  Her father’s will stated that the girls would go to Viscount Camberly, who had been the husband of the dearest girlhood friend of Susannah’s mother. The viscount had been one of the few nobles who had continued to accept his wife’s friend after her marriage. And though the friendship didn’t survive beyond the viscountess’s death, he had never required her father to change the guardianship of his children. And perhaps it would have been fine, if the viscount hadn’t died two years before Susannah’s parents.

  And perhaps it would have still been tolerable, if his eldest son hadn’t disappeared mysteriously shortly thereafter.

  As things had stood, the magistrates simply awarded guardianship to the heir presumptive, the viscount’s second son, Hector, who, despite no hard evidence that his half-brother was dead, was quick to style himself Camberly.

  The injustice of it all made Susannah rise from the couch, her fists curling, no longer petulant but angry. She used to have so much. Family. Comfort. Hope. And now it was all gone. Her sisters, though still living, were lost to her, thanks in no small part to Hector’s machinations. Her parents were buried. And with them, any hope for the future or comfort in the present.

  She’d been raised to believe that God would watch out for her. That He would work everything to her good. But if that was true, then how could she have ended up here? Where was He now? Her dowry was gambled away. Her family was gone. Her reputation was in ruins. She would never have the life she’d been raised for. Any hopes of having a husband who loved her—and their children—were dashed.

  Her dreams hadn’t seemed like anything out of the ordinary when she’d been safe in her parents’ home, surrounded by people who loved her, and with enough money in the bank to keep worries at bay. But now they were so far out of her reach. Now she was at Hector’s mercy. She would pray if she thought it would help, but she couldn’t even think of where to start.

  She began to pace, pushing her domino aside and furiously wiping the tears from her face, though she couldn’t quite keep her sobs from coming. It wasn’t fair that Hector should profit from her destruction. From the moment he had entered her life, he had systematically taken everything she had, often without her finding out until it was too late. She had to get away from him. She didn’t know how she would do it. And maybe her fate was truly sealed. Maybe she would still face a life of destruction. But even if that was true, somehow, some way she would do it on her own terms, without allowing that evil man to benefit from her.

  It was up to her to take action to escape the life Hector had planned for her. She had a small amount of pin money her mother had given her before her death. And she had five whole days in which to devise a sensible plan, for that was how long Hector would be away from London, attending a house party in the country somewhere.

  With those as her only assets, her plan would have to be more about courage than sense.

  The door latch clicked, and Susannah jumped, replacing her domino over her eyes and looking belatedly for a place to hide. She couldn’t face another member of the ton right now. She couldn’t bear to have another human being see her weeping like a child. But even that prayer was to remain unanswered.

  The door swung open to reveal the tall male form of her earlier waltz partner. His eyes met hers, then narrowed, scanning the room, doubtless believing he was coming upon her midtryst. He spoke with the air of the lord of the manor, his voice deep and calm. “I beg your pardon, madam, but may I be of assistance?”

  Susannah groaned aloud. In all seriousness, how much worse could this evening get?

  ***

  She groaned. Out loud. Not a groan of pain, per se. More like the type of groan a sister might let out when a younger brother intruded upon her privacy. He’d heard the sound many times from his own sister’s mouth before she’d married and moved to Scotland. People didn’t go around greeting total strangers with a sound like that, and they were strangers, their earlier waltz notwithstanding. Not for the first time, Nick was struck by the notion that this lady was not like any other he’d ever met.

  He laughed. “Are you by any chance my sister, Emma? She often greets me in a similar fashion.”

  The woman froze for a moment and then hung her head a bit sheepishly. At least he thought it was sheepish. The mask still covered her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was rude of me. It’s just that this night has gone dreadfully.” She smiled apologetically, but her voice broke traitorously, and if that wasn’t enough, a tear rolled down her face from below her mask. She wiped at it hastily, as though if she got to it fast enough, Nick wouldn’t notice.

  He hadn’t expected weeping. When he hadn’t seen her in the hall, he’d decided to check a door or two, half fearing he’d find her in the arms of his disgraceful cousin. He was a bit relieved to find no sign of that bounder.

  He could leave her, of course. He should. But instead, he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

  And once again this lady surprised him.

  “You should lock the door.”

  His brows shot up. Surely she wasn’t suggesting…

  Now her face transformed into surprise as she clearly realized what he thought. She waved her hands furiously in front of her, a blush coloring her cheeks. “No! No, I don’t mean…I just…” She swallowed and closed her eyes. An embarrassed smile lifted the corners of her lips, and she gave her head a small shake. “I don’t wish for you to be compromised by being here with me.”

  That was interesting. “Me compromised by you? Often young ladies fear the opposite.” Though he had heard of wealthy or titled men being trapped into marriage by enterprising young females. Apparently this girl wasn’t the type.

  She sighed. “Although I do hope you don’t intend to compromise me, either way I suspect you have more to lose than I do from being caught.”

  “Ah. I see.” It wasn’t true. But he couldn’t very well ask her to explain. He clicked the lock anyway and moved to a chair near her. “Well, for
what it’s worth, I do not intend to compromise you. That being the case, would you care to tell your tale to a sympathetic ear?”

  She smiled weakly. “Certainly my tale is not of interest to a gentleman such as yourself.”

  A touch of bitterness seeped through the words. She sniffed, swiped a gloved hand at her tears, and sat up a bit straighter, clearly doing her best to appear perfectly fine.

  He stared awkwardly at the poor woman. Her hair was pulled back from her face, but it was difficult to tell the shade in the library’s low light. A dark stripe of fabric fell over one shoulder of her white toga. He did not believe that he’d met her before tonight, but that was impossible to know for sure, since she was masked and in relative darkness.

  “I think perhaps you are the most interesting person I’ve met in quite some time.” He was careful to keep the chair between them. He didn’t want her to think he would advantage of her weakness. He cleared his throat and spoke, not really looking at her but taking in the view. “You chose an excellent room. When I was a very young man, I used to spend hours here among the books when I was in need of solace. It’s a comforting place to be.” His voice was hesitant, unsure whether he could possibly be of comfort.

  She responded with a deep, shuddering sob. So much for her attempt at nonchalance.

  And so much for his attempt at conversation. He tried another tack, considering that he’d be thankful to turn the job of comforter over to another more qualified soul. Not to mention he really shouldn’t be in a locked room with a lady alone. “Is there someone I can fetch for you? Someone who will be wondering where you are? Your husband, perhaps?”

  This produced a bitter laugh. “I’m not married.”

  He grimaced. “Your mother, then? Or another relative?”