An image of the soft cream skin of Lucy’s breast entered his mind. It had only been a glimpse, but it left his body hard and hungry. Perhaps a marriage to her wouldn’t be the worst thing which could happen to him. Lucy was a bright, intelligent girl. He sensed she would learn quickly about desire and passion. He could teach her a great deal more than just how to kiss.
He forced the lustful thoughts from his mind. Marriage to Lucy would be the gravest mistake of his life. Not only was he a man incapable of love, but if she ever discovered the truth of what he had done at Waterloo, Lucy would hate him. Knowing he could never truly love her would sentence them both to a lifetime of endless torture. Lucy at least deserved better than that in her life.
He took a brown glass bottle of ale from his jacket pocket and pulled the cork out with his teeth. The badly brewed beer went quickly down his throat. The spice of the hops cleansed his tired palate. No matter how fine a wine cellar Lord Langham maintained, nothing tasted better than the cheap beer Avery kept secretly stashed in his room. Along with his newly acquired fine tastes, he still held fast to some old ones.
Wiping his moist lips with the back of his gloved hand, he immediately regretted not having purchased more bottles on his early-morning shopping trip. He pulled out the few remaining coins from his pocket and examined them.
‘Nothing will be achieved by getting yourself toad-faced,’ he said.
He put the coins back in his pocket and flicked his cheroot over the side of the balcony and down into the street. Then, getting to his feet, he glanced over the side of the balcony, relieved to see there was no one below whom he could have hit. One solitary carriage made its way along Mill Street, the clip clop of the horse’s hooves echoing against the stone roadway.
‘Not my night for making good choices,’ he muttered.
He opened the door leading back to his bedroom and went inside. With Lucy’s brother David resident under the same roof he knew tomorrow would be a full day of recriminations.
‘So he is still refusing to announce the betrothal?’ Alex asked.
Lady Caroline nodded her head.
It was now three days since the ill-fated dinner party and Avery Fox had refused all entreaties for him to visit at Strathmore House.
‘I don’t know what sort of game he thinks he is playing at,’ Alex added, slowly clenching his fist.
‘I think that is very much the root of the problem. Mr Fox does not see this as a game. He is being coerced into marrying your sister and he has obviously decided that no matter what anyone else says, his answer is no,’ his mother replied.
‘How is Lucy?’ Alex asked.
‘Who knows? She has spoken fewer than a dozen words to me and has spent most of the past few days holed up in her room. She refuses to see visitors and has not once left the house.’
‘Poor Lucy, she must be going out of her mind,’ Alex replied.
If anyone had actually asked Lucy what she thought of Avery’s steadfast refusal to marry her, she would have informed them that she fully supported his position. But since she was not currently on speaking terms with pretty much anyone who had been at the dinner party, her opinion remained her own.
As long as Avery held out against those who continued to demand their marriage, she clung to the hope of avoiding a loveless union.
‘A cunning wench,’ she whispered.
Her fingers instinctively went to her lips. Lips which Avery had kissed. His hot, passionate embrace had been magical. Memories of the warmth and strength of his arms around her still lingered. Whether he admitted it or not, she knew he had enjoyed their encounter. He had willingly kissed her.
In the garden, before he uttered those devastating words of rejection, and crushed her heart, he had wanted her. She knew it.
If only they had not been discovered. Given time she could have shown him she was far from a scheming young miss. That she was worthy of his love.
‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous, Lucy! He hates you. He told you so himself. Just be grateful he doesn’t care for the opinion of others. You have been spared,’ she chided herself.
As is the case when two opposing forces of equal strength push against one another, nothing moved. Avery’s stubbornness was matched only by Lucy’s. Neither was prepared to capitulate and so things remained at a standstill.
On the morning of the fourth day of the stalemate, Avery answered the door of his bedroom. Ian Barrett stood on the threshold. Avery took one look at his former commanding officer and sighed. He didn’t need to ask why Ian Barrett was paying him a visit. Someone had decided that the only way to break the impasse was to apply a stronger force.
‘May I come in?’ he asked.
Avery stepped aside and waved him in.
Ian turned to Avery and raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, it certainly is a humble abode, if that was the look you were attempting to achieve,’ he said. His gaze fell on the pile of dirty shirts and the half-eaten breakfast which remained on the sideboard. Strewn across the floor were books and scattered pieces of paper.
Avery let the remark go unanswered. He owed so much to Ian, including his life. He would never be able to bring himself to the point of showing him disrespect.
‘It is what happens to a room when one decides to bunker down and wait out the siege,’ he replied.
His answer was an honest one. He had refused all attentions from his valet and was now sporting a scruffy four-day-old beard.
‘And how long do you intend to stay in your room? I can’t see Langham allowing this sulk of yours to continue. Hiding away like this is childish to say the least,’ Ian replied.
He dropped his hat and gloves onto the small table by the door and turned to face Avery.
‘You are only doing yourself and your reputation irreparable damage by behaving toward Lady Lucy Radley in such a heartless and cavalier manner. The haute ton protects its own. Once this becomes public knowledge they will close ranks against you. I’m surprised that the Radley family have so far managed to keep it quiet. These things tend to get whispered among the servants and shared between the houses very quickly.’
What was it Lady Alice Langham had said? Gossip was the currency of the ton.
‘But aren’t I supposed to be one of them now? I mean, one of you,’ Avery replied.
Ian shook his head.
‘My family has held the title of Rokewood for nearly three hundred years. We have served as part of the royal Privy Council for most of that time. Only my brother’s illness precludes him from being a close confidant to the Prince Regent. I am Albert’s heir and know all the important families, yet even after all that, I am considered an outsider by many. Avery, my good man, to them . . . you are nothing.
‘If you are not born into the upper echelon of London society, if you do not move within their circles and abide by their rules, they will not hesitate to destroy you.’
Avery scowled. What did he care about the ton? He didn’t need or want to be in their good graces. He held fast to this opinion.
Almost.
‘I couldn’t care less what London society thinks of me. They can all go to the devil,’ he replied.
Ian snorted and Avery knew he had disappointed him with his response.
‘Don’t be a fool, man! You might not give a tinker’s cuss about them, but you will hurt others. In fact you are already hurting innocent parties. Apart from the lady in question, other members of the Langham and Radley families will suffer. If you don’t agree to marry Lady Lucy, she will be ruined. Her younger sister Emma will therefore be tainted by her sister’s reputation. David and Clarice will likely lose the acceptance of their marriage they have fought so hard to win. Is that what you want? The Lieutenant Fox I knew is not that sort of man.’
A hundred foul curses streamed through Avery’s mind. By calling his honour into question, the major was attacking him at his weakest point. At that moment he was unsure as to whom he hated the most. Himself for allowing his stubborn nature to further corrupt his hon
our, or Ian for knowingly exploiting it to its fullest.
‘And this is why you are here?’ he replied.
It pained him to think that Ian would treat him thus. Worse still, he knew that he was right. He rubbed the palm of his hand across his beard and yawned. Sleep had not come easily to him over the past days as his conscience continually gnawed at him. Added to that were the constant nightmares which came with sleep. Nightmares which revolved around that fateful night in the garden with Lucy. Of the harsh words he had said to her. Of her despair.
The current situation was not a tenable one. He could not spend the rest of his life holed up in his bedroom. Nor could he allow Lucy to be ruined as a result of his inability to control his lust. This was one tight spot out of which he could not fight. Escape was impossible.
‘Shall I call your valet to come and clean you up?’ Ian asked.
His disapproving gaze ran over Avery’s not-so-clean shirt and generally unkempt appearance.
Avery sighed. If preserving Lucy’s honour was all he could give her, then it would have to do.
‘On one condition,’ Avery replied.
He felt the invisible noose tighten around his neck.
‘Yes?’
‘That once I am presentable, you accompany me to Strathmore House. If I am going to my doom, I want you beside me.’
Ian Barrett headed for the door.
‘I was always going to come with you. You struck a poor bargain, Lieutenant.’
CHAPTER TEN
The actual wedding ceremony was over rather quickly. A few words from the Bishop of London followed by a very chaste kiss on Lucy’s cheek and it was done. As he drew back from the kiss, Avery in his nervousness attempted to lower Lucy’s short lace veil once more. A blush of red appeared on her face as she put out a hand and stopped him.
Avery fixed a happy groom’s grin to his face and accepted the congratulations of the assembled guests. His youngest sister-in-law, Lady Emma, gave him a big, tearful hug. Her fourteen-year-old brother Stephen beamed with delight. Lord Langham shook his hand and gave him a solid slap on the back.
‘Well done, young man; Lady Lucy will make a perfect Countess of Langham. Solid bloodlines and impeccable family connections. I couldn’t have chosen better if you’d asked me to find you a bride,’ the earl said.
With his daughter Clarice married to Lucy’s brother, the Langham and Radley family connections were further strengthened. No one need mention the saved reputations of various family members. Avery and Lucy’s wedding had smoothed over all the cracks.
Avery nodded. Everyone seemed particularly pleased. They constantly remarked how wonderful it was that the Langham and Radley families were bound to one another.
It didn’t seem to matter in the slightest that Avery wasn’t actually family. That he was in fact a distant relative who just happened to be next in line to the title.
He finished receiving the congratulations of the wedding guests and made his way to find his new bride. The Duke of Strathmore had agreed to Avery’s terms for the wedding but with several strict provisos. The first being that appearances had to be maintained.
Lucy and Avery’s marriage was a love match as far as the rest of London society was concerned, and the change from a church wedding to a private one at Strathmore House was due to the recent demise of the groom’s brother. A perfectly acceptable reason. As a story, it worked; no one else need know the truth.
‘Shall we?’ Lucy said as the gong sounded for the wedding breakfast.
Her long, white lace wedding gown fitted perfectly to her body. Somewhere a team of seamstresses had worked day and night to get it ready. The small posy of cream and red roses she carried matched perfectly to the stripes of Avery’s wedding waistcoat. They looked the perfectly matched newlywed couple.
‘Yes, let’s do,’ Avery replied and offered her his arm.
The wedding breakfast was a sedate affair; Avery partook of only two glasses of wine while Lucy didn’t touch any of the food or drink. There were a few minor toasts and several short speeches. Seated side by side, Avery and Lucy barely exchanged a word.
Most guests had taken their leave by late afternoon.
When David and Clarice left just before seven o’clock, citing Clarice’s need for rest, only the immediate Radley family members remained.
Millie came and gave Lucy a warm hug.
‘Congratulations, sister; I hope everything goes as you hope for tonight,’ she whispered.
She reserved a hopeful smile for Avery and brushed a kiss on his cheek.
‘Be kind to her; she is a wonderful girl. You just need to allow yourself time to get to know the real Lucy. I beg of you, don’t break her heart,’ Millie murmured, sotto voce.
Avery nodded silently.
He glanced at his wife and saw her anxiety displayed in the hard way she continually spun her new wedding ring around her finger. It took all his strength not to reach out and stop her.
Finally the time came for them to leave the wedding celebrations and go to spend their first night together as man and wife.
They slowly ascended the stairs together, forcing themselves to laugh as Alex offered a ribald wedding night jest. Millie dug an elbow into her husband’s ribs in disapproval.
‘It’s this way,’ Lucy said, as Avery stopped at the top of the grand staircase, uncertain as to where he was supposed to go.
‘Our personal things have been moved to our apartment.’
The sad look on her face gave Lucy away. She was dreading being alone with him.
It had been less than two days since he’d visited the duke at Strathmore House and offered for Lucy’s hand. Ian Barrett had sat silently beside him, offering moral support.
Once the duke reluctantly accepted Avery’s conditions, matters had moved quickly. Firstly, it would be a private wedding. Avery was determined not to stand in front of London society and show them he had been brought to heel. He didn’t need to be reminded that he had been put firmly in his place.
Secondly, there was to be no wedding ball. The duke had argued strongly against this, regarding it as a personal slight against his daughter.
‘But Alex and David both had magnificent wedding balls. You attended David and Clarice’s wedding celebrations; you know how much it means to the bride. You would deny my daughter her moment in the limelight?’ the duke asked.
Lucy, having been summoned from her bedroom, had stood beside Avery, hands clasped in front. When Lord Strathmore further pressed his case, she simply held up her hand.
‘It’s all right, Papa, if Avery doesn’t want a ball then neither do I.’
If Avery felt as if he was being sentenced to his doom, his now-wife had shown even less enthusiasm for their impending nuptials. He could not fail to notice her bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
He had left Strathmore House that afternoon hating himself and the world.
Now, as they reached their private rooms, Lucy hurried to an adjoining dressing room. When Avery went to follow her, she stopped him at the doorway.
‘Have a nightcap, I will be with you shortly,’ she said.
She pointed to a large crystal whisky decanter which sat on a table in the main bedroom. After she closed the door behind her, Avery heard a key being turned in the lock.
Taking his cue, he poured himself a large glass of the golden liquid and after removing his jacket, took a seat by the well-stoked fire. The pay of a non-commissioned officer did not normally stretch to fine whisky. It was another taste he had quickly acquired upon his elevation to high society.
He took a sip of the whisky, screwed up his face and immediately set the glass down.
When Lucy finally appeared from the dressing room, he saw the look of disappointment on her face. She was still in her wedding gown.
He looked to the whisky decanter.
‘What did you put in the whisky?’ he asked.
A guilty look flashed in her eyes, but she shook her head vehemently in denial.<
br />
‘Nothing; I don’t know what you mean,’ she stammered.
He gave a derisive snort. From the first moment the whisky had slid down his throat, he knew it had been tainted.
‘You wouldn’t make a very good poisoner. I could verily taste the drug in the first mouthful. Were you planning to kill me on our wedding night?’ he replied.
Lucy screwed her eyes shut as a desperate sob escaped her lips.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what to do!’ she cried.
He resisted the temptation to go to her and offer comfort. Thinking he’d narrowly avoided being poisoned by his new wife, Avery was not in a particularly forgiving mood.
‘So you thought murder would solve your problems?’ Avery replied.
‘No, of course not. I just thought that if you slept well tonight, you might be more amenable,’ Lucy replied.
‘Amenable to what?’ he replied.
Wiping tears away with the back of her hand, she straightened her spine. With her gaze fixed firmly on his, she recited what were obviously well-rehearsed words.
‘I think I might have found a way out of this for us. If we are to end this marriage and be rid of one another it can be done. You will, of course, need to agree to my plan if we are to succeed.’
Rid of one another.
Avery was suddenly struck with the feeling he was about to make the worst mistake of his life. He pushed the emotion away, leaving it to linger in the background.
‘Lucy. I promise I won’t force you to the marriage bed. If you want your freedom, then I will do what I can to give it to you.’
‘Thank you,’ she said.
Having been set fast against this marriage himself only a matter of days ago, it shocked him to realise Lucy had actively sought a way out. From the moment they had exchanged their wedding vows, he had resigned himself to the task of making the best of things.
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