HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6

by Margaret Brazear

  Adrian shot him a suspicious look.

  “You have not have you? Betrayed my trust? She is still intact?”

  “Of course! What do you take me for? I love her. I would never defile her.”

  Adrian remained thoughtfully silent for a few more moments then he stood up while Mark also got to his feet. It was true he did not love Frances; that was apparent by his reaction to Mark’s confession. He felt not a spark of jealousy or even disappointment; all he felt was concern for his brother’s happiness.

  “Are you certain?” He asked him now. “It might sound like an adventure to live in a strange country and work the land, but the reality will be very much harsher than you expect, for both of you. Has she thought how she will manage, without servants or even cooks? Have you?”

  “We have discussed it,” he replied. “We have little alternative. You have never been in love, Adrian; I would rather suffer any sort of hardship than live without her. And to know she is spending her nights in your bed? I will learn to hate you; I shall not be able to help it.”

  Adrian patted his shoulder. He understood completely, or thought he did, but he wished he had told him sooner.

  “What about the savages I have heard of?”

  Marked smiled fondly at him.

  “Others have managed; we can too. I love her, Adrian; all I need to complete my happiness is your blessing.”

  Adrian pulled his brother into his arms and hugged him tightly, knowing that once he had gone, he was unlikely to ever see him again.

  “Very well,” he said. “You must go tonight, and go quickly.”

  He turned when he heard a short gasp from behind him. Frances stood in the doorway, her hand held up to her mouth and tears brimming in her eyes. Adrian held out a hand to her, his other hand firmly clasping that of his brother, and he pulled her toward him and hugged her for the first and last time.

  “You have my blessing,” he said. “I wish you every happiness. Just be sure you realise you can never return. You will be shunned if you do.”

  Frances hugged him tightly, tears of joy soaking his shirt.

  “Thank you, My Lord,” she said. “We can never repay your kindness.”

  “You can. You can repay me by being happy. Now go, gather your things together and be sure you arouse no suspicion.”

  He gave his brother money and helped the couple plan their elopement and he felt good about that. He wanted Mark to be happy and he had grown fond of Frances in a sisterly sort of way; he could see she adored his brother.

  “I would like to ride part of the way with you, perhaps stand with you at your marriage ceremony. But I fear I will be missed before you are. I will stay and try to ward off any suspicion.”

  Once they had gone, his father took to his bed from the shame of it. He never emerged from that bed or that shame, and Adrian knew his mother would never forgive her younger son.

  He would have to begin the search for a new bride, but that would take time, time Adrian used to rescue Marianne.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Once the uproar had died down, Adrian decided he had actually had a fortunate escape. Although he had been pleased with Frances and was quite willing to go along with his father’s plans for his future, he had often wished he could go into the marriage with more experience. He confessed to himself that he was a little afraid of the prospect of making Frances his wife in the true sense. He knew what to do, of course he did, but actually doing it and making her feel good about it was a fearful notion.

  He was nearly eighteen and a lot of young men of his age had mistresses already, but Adrian had always wanted to be sure of himself before he embarked on any intimate encounters.

  Thank God Mark had told him in time! It would have been a hundred times worse had he married her when she loved someone else, and when would he have found out? When Mark began to resent him, when Frances rejected him, shuddered in horror at his touch? Far better this way, whatever the scandal it caused, however embarrassed his parents were.

  Mark and Frances had already sailed, started their hazardous journey across the Atlantic Ocean by the time their absence was discovered. The household routine was already disrupted with the Earl’s illness; he had not been able to take his meals with everyone else for a long time and the Countess tended to stay with him for hers, so nobody missed Frances or Mark at the dining table. The only person likely to miss them was Adrian and he already knew where they were.

  The people who noticed the absence of them both were the servants, and they assumed Mark had business or pleasure in town. Lady Kennington’s personal maid was the one who discovered the empty chest where Frances kept her clothes and informed Her Ladyship.

  “Gone?” That lady demanded. “Where could she have gone? The wedding is set for this week, she cannot simply have gone. If she has gone visiting her mother without a word to anyone, it is very inconsiderate of her.”

  “Forgive me, My Lady, but she has gone along with all her clothing. Perhaps she became nervous about the prospect of marrying the Viscount. It would not be uncommon in a young maid.”

  “Perhaps not, but a maid of good birth would know better than to run away. She knows where her duty lies and she could have come to me with her worries. Where will she go? How will she live?” She sighed heavily. “Please do not mention this to His Lordship. He is already ill; I cannot have him worried with this. Selfish girl! How could she do this when she knows how ill he is? We must find her before my son learns of it; he will be devastated.”

  While servants searched the house, Lady Kennington sought out her youngest son. Mark seemed to spend a lot of time with Frances; perhaps he knew of somewhere she might go.

  Her father would not welcome her back under these circumstances, so she saw little point in sending a servant to enquire there, and in truth she would prefer not to admit to him that she had mislaid his daughter. Far better to find the girl, bring her back and lock her in her bedchamber until the wedding. Then neither her father nor Adrian would ever need to know. She would soon see where her best interests lie, once she was wedded and bedded.

  Her Ladyship wished the girl had come to her for advice before doing this. Perhaps she thought she was being thoughtful, with the Earl so ill, by not bothering her with it. It was not like Frances to be so inconsiderate as to go off without a word.

  As if she had time for this crisis when she already had the Earl to deal with. She reached Mark’s bedchamber to find the door open and no sign of him inside. Damn him! Why was he never there when she needed him? She was about to pull the door shut and leave, search for him elsewhere, when she saw his chest was standing open and his bed had not been slept in.

  She walked swiftly to inspect the chest, only to find it as empty as that of Frances. That was when she realised it had been two days since she saw Mark, about the same time as it had been since she had seen Frances.

  No. It could not be. Lady Kennington stood looking about the empty chamber and shaking her head. She looked into the chest once more, hoping her first observation had been an hallucination. She turned down the bedcover, hoping to see a creased up sheet beneath.

  Perhaps he had gone looking for Frances, she thought frantically. But that made no sense at all. There was but one explanation for the evidence; Mark had eloped with his brother’s betrothed.

  Her journey to the sitting room was slow and reluctant, as she hoped with every step that one or other of them would appear before she got there. At last she appeared in the doorway rubbing her hands together and found Adrian reading beside the window.

  He glanced up and smiled warily. He knew the cause of her agitated state, he had seen the servants running around the grounds, peering in barns, hurrying to the stables to count the horses. But he said nothing, only let her calm herself before she told him the news.

  “I can scarcely believe it to be true, and there could yet be another explanation,” she told him, “but it seems likely your brother has eloped with your betrothed.”

 
He turned away to hide a smile, forced a scowl to his face as he stood quickly, letting his book fall to the floor. Taking her hands, he guided her to sit beside him, did his utmost to appear angry.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I can find no other explanation for the absence of them both and their belongings. Adrian, I am so sorry; I can scarce believe it, but it seems obvious your brother has betrayed you. I can only imagine how you must feel.”

  Adrian played his part well. His pretended outrage was accepted by all, his mother was sympathetic with his loss and furious with her youngest son.

  “I will send people to search the whole country for them if I have to,” she went on angrily. “There cannot be many places they can hide without funds. Have no fear, they will be brought back.”

  Horror twisted Adrian’s fine features. He knew the couple were unlikely to be found, but with his father’s influence and his mother’s gold coin, it was possible they might be stopped. Anything could go wrong while waiting for a ship to set sail, as they were very dependent on tides and weather. He could not allow a search party to be sent after them.

  “To what end?” He demanded. “You surely cannot imagine I want her back? She is sullied. She is unfit to be my wife now.”

  She put her hand soothingly on his arm.

  “They have not been gone long enough to be married,” she persisted. “I cannot believe your brother would defile her, would take advantage. There is still time.”

  Adrian was shaking his head. He could allow a search to begin and hope for the best, but he did not want to take the chance. What would happen if they were brought back? He could not marry her now, sullied or no.

  “Mother, I will not marry her now regardless. You have to understand, surely, that I cannot marry a woman who is in love with someone else, especially when that someone else is my own brother.”

  “But darling…”

  “No, Mother,” he said firmly. “They have gone. Leave them be, please. If that is what they want, I have no wish to interfere and I certainly have no wish to force myself onto a woman who does not want me.”

  “Very well, if you are sure. Heaven knows how I am going to explain things to her father.”

  “It is not your fault, so there is no reason for you to think it is. If anyone is to blame it is me. I should have spent more time with her, made myself more agreeable.”

  “You could not have done more,” she insisted. “You had your own duties to attend to. She is a very selfish girl!”

  He sank into the chair and rested his forehead in his hand. He was not sure how much longer he could keep up the façade.

  “Please, Mother,” he murmured. “Leave me now. I need to be alone with this. I will write to Frances’ father this evening.”

  When she had gone he poured honey mead and smiled as he sipped it. He did not enjoy seeing his mother so distraught, but secretly he wished the couple well and looked forward to visiting some of the seedier haunts of London.

  That is where he found Marianne.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was Marianne’s sixteenth birthday, but she expected no special consideration on that account. She sat and looked about her at the dusty tavern, at the grime from last night’s customers, and knew no one would clean it but her.

  There was not much stock left. Her father had drunk it all, had started drinking it all when her mother died three years ago. Now they were lucky to have a roof over their heads as there were few customers who would frequent this place. Not only were they unlikely to find the alcohol they required, they also had to tolerate her father and his famous moods. But they could leave, go back from whence they came or find another drinking hole; Marianne was not free to do that and she doubted he had even remembered it was her birthday.

  She lifted her arm to study the fading bruise on her upper arm. He had given her that one some weeks ago, but since then he seemed to have mellowed. Did he think of her as a woman rather than a child, since her figure was forming and her bodice was tight across her breasts. She should have new clothes, or at least somebody’s cast offs, but they could not afford that.

  Perhaps she could go and find work somewhere other than the tavern, as a servant or something; it would not be pleasant, but at least she would get paid. She doubted her father would allow it; he seemed to want her to stay with him for some reason, although she could not think what.

  The creak of the floorboards in the next room made her pull her thin, silk wrap closer about herself as she wondered what sort of mood he would be in this morning. He seemed just as drunk last night as every other night, so he would likely be angry and take that anger out on her.

  She stood, thinking to put herself in a better position to flee, but when the door opened he was smiling and carrying in his arms a pale blue gown.

  “This is for you,” he said. “Your first grown up gown.”

  She took it from him and held it up against herself. It was a beautiful gown, made of fine silk with a low cut bodice and rows of frills on the skirt. There were petticoats as well and her first thought was that he must have stolen it. Even then she was touched to think of him stealing something as a gift for her.

  “It is lovely,” she said. “Where did you get it?”

  “It was your mother’s,” he answered. “Her wedding gown. Blue for purity.” He frowned at her suspiciously. “You are entitled to wear the colour? You are still pure?”

  “Of course.”

  He let out a sigh.

  “Good. A man can always tell.”

  Marianne blushed, felt her cheeks growing hot. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with her father, or anyone else for that matter.

  “How?” She asked. “How can he tell?”

  “You’ll find out,” he answered. “I want everyone to know you are a maid. Try the dress on, see if it fits, just in case it needs altering before tonight.”

  “Why? Am I getting married then?”

  He laughed, a callous sort of laugh which was more in keeping with his usual mood.

  “Who on earth do you think would want to marry you? I can give you no dowry.”

  “What then? Why am I getting dressed up in a virgin’s gown?”

  “You go and put it on,” was all he would say in reply. “Our troubles will soon be over.”

  She only had to turn up the hem a little for the gown to be a perfect fit. She remembered her mother, a lovely lady who always dressed well within the budget allowed, and she wondered why she had never shown this gown to her daughter. Perhaps she was saving it as a surprise for when Marianne married.

  She smiled to herself at the notion, then put on the gown and curled her hair on top of her head, just as Father had requested. He was being very nice to her today, but she would try not to get used to it. He wanted her to wear the gown this evening, he wanted her to curl her hair and he dressed himself up in his red velvet suit, which he had not worn in years, but he refused to tell her why. She felt a quiver of excitement as she wondered if he had found a young man to court her after all. His earlier words on the subject could be merely his own strange sense of humour.

  When she was ready, she went downstairs to show him and his eyes moved over her lasciviously, almost as though he had forgotten she was his daughter. She shivered as she watched him nodding in satisfaction.

  “We are going to make a lot of money this night,” he said.

  “Why? Where are we going, Father. I thought you were taking me somewhere special for my birthday.”

  “I am, darling. A man will pay a lot of money for a virgin, especially one as young and sumptuous as you.”

  ***

  Adrian left his horse and carriage in the care of a pedlar who was happy with the silver coin and the promise of another on his return. He walked the narrow street with its overhanging upper windows from which leaned half dressed women with blackened teeth and foul mouths. Some of these females were far too old to be hanging out of windows with their bosom on display and Adr
ian could hardly imagine any man paying for their services, but he supposed they must, if the woman was cheap enough.

  He glanced up to see a woman with narrow, wrinkled breasts hanging over the window sill. She had dyed hair of an indiscriminate shade, her face painted to resemble a circus clown. Adrian shuddered.

  “Come inside, darling?” The woman called down. “Inside the house and inside wherever you like.”

  She laughed coarsely and he was surprised to find himself blushing. He knew what he had come here for, but he never expected that sort of language from a woman. She was too old for this work, she looked older than his mother and he could certainly summon no trace of ardour for her.

  When he decided to visit this place he had a certain image in his mind about the sort of woman he might find. He did not expect her to be innocent or even have the appearance of being such, but he did expect her to be young enough to still be attractive. So far, he had seen none who resembled that image in the least.

  There were many more calls, even one from a young boy. That did shock him, he had to admit and he was just beginning to regret his decision to come here when he saw her. She was leaning against the door jam, her blonde hair a little greasy but swept up in curls on top of her head. She wore a gown of pale blue silk, not unlike the gown he had expected Frances to wear for their wedding. The bodice was low cut to display her still budding bosom, and Adrian knew a dart of horror to realise she was little more than a child. She was probably no older than Frances, and here she was plying her trade on a street corner, trying to hire out her fragile body to whatever brute wanted to pay.

  His eyes swept over her with compassion and as they met hers he realised the look in those depths was one of sheer terror. He approached her in quick strides until he was close enough to feel her trembling. Her eyes were the same pale blue as her gown and they looked into his dark ones with stark fear showing clearly. He came to this unsavoury place in search of a woman for hire, but rather than wanting to bed this beautiful young girl, he wanted to fold her up in his arms and protect her. She looked so tiny and vulnerable and her pale lashes made her look ill. At least he hoped that was all that was making her look ill.