“A simple tryst in front of half the ton! How could you be so stupid? You have ruined her,” his father bit out. “How am I supposed to show my face in society now? Her father is a marquess!”
“And you’re an earl,” Byron said, shrugging. “Hardly a difference.”
“Hardly a difference, you say,” Lord Heatherstone muttered. “You’re a fool, Byron.”
“A fool and your heir,” he said. “Besides, I am already engaged. Do you not recall the entire purpose of tonight’s party?”
“One you apparently forgot,” his father huffed, his pacing resuming across the navy Aubusson that covered the middle of the room. He looked up at the portrait of his father, Edmund’s grandfather, that hung above the desk as though seeking his advice. The portrait stared down in disapproval and Edmund shuddered. He preferred to avoid reminders of his grandfather. “You’ve ruined one woman, yet we need you to marry the other.”
“Why?” Edmund asked, the first thing he had said since entering the room.
His father shot him a look of disdain. “Had you paid any attention to this family’s affairs, you would know, Edmund,” he said, though the question did cause him to stop pacing. “We need Lord Exner’s money.”
“Ah, so the young woman has a significant dowry, then.”
“She does,” his father confirmed. “We’ve had some… losses lately.” He looked over at Byron, who didn’t show any remorse, his lips twisted in a wicked smile. Edmund was aware that some of that money had gone to paying off the families of women who were not particularly pleased with where Byron’s affections had led. “Unfortunately, there were too many witnesses tonight to buy their silence.” He looked at his eldest son. “Why now, Byron, why here?”
Byron shrugged again. “Melody enjoys my… taste of seduction,” he said, his lips turning in remembrance, causing his father to nearly choke.
After a few minutes of silence, Lord Heatherstone sighed, running a hand through his hair. “If only you hadn’t chosen your mother’s sitting room,” he said, shaking his head. “Lord knows she will never be able to remove such an image from her mind.” He took a deep breath. “You will have to marry the chit, Byron, though in your actions, you have likely ruined both this woman and your betrothed, though you don’t seem to overly care. I had the fathers of both women nearing apoplexy as they left, determined that each would marry you.”
If only they knew the truth – then they would be running from the family.
Lord Heatherstone finally took a seat behind his desk, drumming his knuckles on the table, once, twice… until they stopped. His head tilted as though an idea had come to him, and he slowly turned his head until he had Edmund in his sights.
“Or…” he murmured, and Edmund began shaking his head, not wanting anything to do with this entire affair. “We could marry the Exner girl to you.”
“Absolutely not,” Edmund said, standing. His blood began to stir at the thought of Lady Hannah, but he refused to entertain the idea that she could be his, for he was smarter than that. “Besides, she would never have me.”
“She would have no choice,” his father argued. “That, or be ruined. What other man is going to offer for goods that weren’t enough for your brother? Her father is desperate to have her married off – there was some scandal with her sister and this girl is already four-and-twenty.”
Edmund found that difficult to believe. He had thought her to be twenty at the very oldest.
“Yes,” Lord Heatherstone said with a smile, warming to the idea now. “This will work perfectly. I will speak with the fathers of both women tomorrow.”
“I’ll not marry her,” Edmund insisted, but his father appeared not to be listening. Edmund persisted. “Her father won’t agree to it. Not when he sees me. Or knows where I live.”
His father waved a hand in the air. “Hollingswood can be improved. Add a few servants, some new furniture, some wallpaper, good as new.”
He looked Edmund up and down, but said nothing. No words were needed. For they all knew the truth – the estate could be improved but there was no hope for Edmund. He was who he was, and nothing could change it.
“And if I refuse?” Edmund asked, arching his eyebrow.
“Then I shall sell Hollingswood,” his father said, narrowing his eyes. “I will need the money in lieu of what the girl’s dowry will bring our family. You will have to return to London.”
“You wouldn’t,” Edmund said, not believing his father. He was as happy about Edmund’s omission from society as much as Edmund himself was.
“Test me,” his father said, biting out the words, and Edmund finally had to reluctantly admit defeat.
For he would never return to Society. He would die first.
* * *
“I shall marry whom?”
“Lord Edmund – Lord Marshville’s brother.”
Hannah stared at her father in shock over dinner the following evening. Her mother was silent at the other end of the table, her head bent low over her plate.
“But… I’ve never met the man.”
She hadn’t. She had heard rumors about him of course. Everyone had. Lord Edmund had been injured in the war, barely surviving. He was, apparently, now so scarred that he was unrecognizable. He hid away in one of the family estates far from London, and hardly ever returned, except to visit his mother now and again.
She thought of last night’s stranger. The truth was, she could hardly think of anything else but the man, and the press of his lips upon hers. While it was true it had been her first kiss, she could hardly imagine that there could be any better. She only wished that she knew who he was, what his name was. He had seemed bitter, yes, but she had sensed that there was goodness within him, that he had felt sorry for her and her entire situation.
If only…
But it didn’t seem to matter what she wanted anyway. Even if she did know his identity, she was apparently bound to marry one of Lord Heatherstone’s sons. No one seemed to care which one it was.
“I’m sure he will make you a fine husband,” her father said, but even he couldn’t mask his own disbelief in the words. “Just have to give it a chance, is all.”
“Why are you so determined to marry me off?” she asked, imploring him, looking from her mother to her father. Her father set his jaw determinately, but something in her gaze must have softened him, for he finally sighed and relented.
“You know why. Justine all but ruined your chances of ever marrying with the scandal she caused.”
Scandal was an understated description for when her sister had run away with one of the footmen to be married in Scotland. One her mother had never quite recovered from, and that her father still had not forgiven her for.
“We want to ensure that you marry well, into a family that can look after you. You have no brothers, Hannah, and we do not know how well your cousin Anderson will look after you one day.”
Hannah sighed, wishing she could look after herself, but what her father said was true. If only she was the sister who had enough backbone to run away with a man of her choosing, who wasn’t the good girl always doing as her parents bid. But she couldn’t help it. She had always been that way.
“Lord Heatherstone and his son will secure a special license. Apparently, he is eager to return to his estate in Cheshire and has agreed to marry you only if you can return as soon as possible.”
“What?” Her fork fell to her plate with a clatter. “But I wasn’t to be married for months!”
Her father shook his head. “I’m sorry, Hannah. The truth is, we don’t want to see you go so quickly either. But I’m sure you will be back to visit often.”
Again, lies, Hannah realized, anger beginning to burn in her belly. If all was to be believed, Lord Edmund would have no desire to return to London. He would keep her hidden away in Cheshire. Turmoil began anew within her. If the stranger’s words about Lord Byron Marshville had been true, then what would his brother be like?
“Mother?” she i
mplored, but when her mother finally looked up, it was with tears in her eyes before she lifted her glass and drank its entire contents.
“We best prepare your trousseau,” was all she finally said, as Hannah’s stomach sank.
There was no going back now.
3
Why was the parlor so dimly lit? Hannah wondered as she arrived at the Heatherstones’ townhouse with her parents. She had been given three days to prepare. She would be married by special license this morning and then would be off to Hollingswood Manor near Cheshire, a carriage ride that would take two days. She would be going alone with her husband but for her maid, who seemed to carry as much trepidation about the future as Hannah herself did.
They were greeted by Lord and Lady Heatherstone, who didn’t exactly look as though they had completely recovered from the affairs at the party. The only one who seemed unaffected was Lord Byron Marshville himself, who remained seated in a carved Louis XV chair in the drawing room, waving a jaunty hello when they walked in.
Hannah nodded, looking around for the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with.
“Where is Lord Edmund?” her father demanded, apparently thinking the same thing.
“He shall be with us momentarily,” Lord Heatherstone said, looking nearly as ill as Hannah felt.
There was a sound from behind them, and they all turned as one when a figure filled the doorway. As he stepped through the threshold, Hannah had to place a hand over her mouth to cover her gasp.
He was tall, as were the rest of the men in his family. His long, dark hair was pulled back in a queue reminiscent of days of old. But it was his face that had captured her attention – how could it not? One side was near perfection, all chiseled jaw and cheekbone, a fine eyebrow over a blue eye that pierced right into her. It was the other side though, that no one would ever be able to ignore. It was… well, it was destroyed. The top part was a mangle of scars, the eyebrow gone, the skin stretched over his eye so low that it appeared nearly closed. The scars continued down his face to the side of his nose, where they began to return to the skin he had been born with.
He faced them all down with a challenging expression, as though he was waiting for them to swoon or to scream or, most likely, to call the marriage off. Hannah heard her mother let out a bit of a whimper, while her father began looking between Lord Edmund and Hannah as though he was second-guessing handing over his daughter.
“Well,” Lord Heatherstone said, clapping his hands together, discomfort covering his face. “Shall we get on with it?”
There was more behind his question than a simple statement to move along the wedding. In truth, he was obviously asking if Hannah and her family were still willing to go through with it after seeing Lord Edmund.
Hannah returned her gaze to her future husband, sensing the vulnerability lurking behind his proud stare. She yearned to know what had happened to him, what had caused such scarring, and how he had survived it. She knew he had fought in the war, knew he had been injured, but hadn’t been aware of the extent of it. No wonder he had hidden himself away far from London.
Despite his lack of greeting and his fierce scowl toward them all, Hannah’s instincts told her that she was better off marrying a man like this than Lord Marshville, who would have left her bed for another right after the vows were spoken – never mind the warnings she had been provided at the party. A part of her still longed to wait until she learned the identity of her mysterious stranger from the library, a man she had been unable to push from her mind, but in all likelihood, she would never see him again.
This was her future now, and the best way forward was to begin as optimistically as possible.
“Yes,” she finally said, speaking for them all. “Let us begin.”
* * *
One thing Edmund could say about his new wife was that she was much braver than she looked.
He stole a glance over at the carriage trundling alongside him. For the first part of the journey, she had kept the curtain pulled back, peering out the window as though taking in everything that passed outside. He had hung back then, not wanting to obstruct her view.
He guessed she was likely sleeping now, for there hadn’t been any sign of her for some time.
His heart constricted as he thought of her. What would she say if she knew he was the man she had kissed that night, that his scarred face was the one that had brushed up against hers in the dark?
Edmund had seen the shocked expression upon her face when he entered the doorway of his parents’ sitting room, had noted her mother’s gasp and the denial that was forming on her father’s lips. But then Hannah had stepped forward, shoulders up and head held high, bravely declaring that she would go on with the wedding.
He had to admit that part of him was hoping she would cry off.
The other part despaired at any thought of her doing so.
For she stirred something within him that had been lying dormant for a very long time now. He hadn’t even known that such desires were possible for him anymore, not since… since the war. How long had it been since he had been with a woman? Over six years now, he mused. He had tried – once. The prostitute had come into the room and taken one look at him before nearly fainting dead away. She had tried to up her rate, but by that point he no longer had any interest in whatever favors she might provide and he had sent her away.
He had never tried again.
Now he had a wife. He took a deep breath. This was the last thing he had expected when he had made the trek to London for his brother’s engagement and ensuing marriage. As much as he never wanted this and knew they could never truly be husband and wife, at the very least she was safe from his brother.
But, he thought as they crested one hill and he saw the approaching inn in the distance, was the danger with him far worse?
* * *
Hannah hadn’t known what to expect from her husband. But she hadn’t expected this silence.
He hadn’t looked at her once through the wedding. When he had repeated the few words required of him, his voice had sent shivers down her spine. There was something terribly familiar about it, and she searched her brain for when she might have met him before.
“Never,” he had said tersely when she had asked him, and so she had pushed the thought away, although something about him nagged at her, something she couldn’t quite determine. It was quickly overcome, however, by her ire that he had refused to wait for her to prepare for the wedding, but had been determined to have it over with quickly so that he could return to his beloved home. It must be quite something.
She had said a quick, tearful goodbye to her parents, though her sadness had acquired a bitter edge when she saw her father and Lord Heatherstone shake hands as though they had just finished conducting a successful business deal – although to them, she supposed this was exactly what it was.
She and her maid, Molly, had been deposited into the carriage, and before she could ask where her husband was, the door had been shut and she had been sent on her way. Had she not seen him riding beside the window, she would have wondered whether he had even accompanied her.
He rode with his collar lifted high and his hat pulled low, hiding himself from the world. It was interesting. The man who had approached them so proud, so defiant must be in there somewhere, and yet he lived within a fortress he had erected around himself.
He had secured separate rooms for them at the inn, and had arranged for trays to be brought up to them. He hadn’t said a word to her, beyond knocking on her door the next morning and calling out the time they were to depart.
Hannah didn’t know what to think of it – or what to think of him. She was quite aware that he hadn’t asked to marry her, and she wondered if he planned to spend the entirety of their marriage like this. Her stomach rolled at the thought.
“What do you suppose Hollingswood to be like, my lady?” her maid asked her during the journey.
“I don’t know, Molly,” she said, attempting to
mask her own anxiety at the thought of it, “but I think we’re about to find out.”
It seemed as though the horses picked up speed as they neared the manor. Hannah practically fit her body through the window as she stretched out her neck to see what was before them, but in doing so she nearly lost her head.
The vegetation had become quite thick around them, the road narrow and bumpy. It was as though hardly a person ever travelled this road, and despite it being midday, all Hannah could see was darkness within the depths of the trees.
She couldn’t see Edmund anymore. He must be either in front of or behind the carriage, and Hannah shivered as she wondered what lurked in the trees. She sat back down, pulling the curtain closed once more.
“It’s creepy out there,” Molly said, and Hannah didn’t answer, not wanting to show any fear, despite the fact she wholeheartedly agreed.
Finally, the carriage began to slow while Hannah’s heart picked up speed as she prepared to see her new home for the first time.
She slowly descended the carriage steps, nearly missing the last one as her attention was focused on the estate before her.
If it could be called an estate. That might be generous. Hannah wasn’t entirely sure if this was the actual house, or perhaps the ruins of another that had sat here in the past.
The half-timbered building was shaped extremely irregularly, with three different ranges forming what must be a courtyard within. Stone footings seemed to be present at the bottom of the house, while diagonal oak braces created a strange pattern upon the façade. Three chimneys, surrounded in brick, rose at varying levels, and pointed arches topped the doorways on two of the sides. Moss crept up the walls, as though nature was attempting to take it over once more.
Most shocking of all was the little moat that surrounded it.
“It’s…” Hannah was lost for words.
Always Your Love: A Gothic Regency Romance Page 2