Unveiling Love: A Regency Romance (A London Regency Romantic Suspense Tale Book 4)

by Vanessa Riley

  Contents

  Unveiling Love

  Saving a Marriage or Winning the Trial of the Century

  Dedication

  Books by Vanessa Riley

  Cast of Primary Characters

  Chapter One: Going to Bedlam

  Chapter Two: A Raid

  Chapter Three: The Truth & Miller

  Chapter Four: The Quest for Truth

  Chapter Five: The Quest for Unity

  Chapter Six: Love Returned?

  Chapter Seven: The Trial of The Century

  Chapter Eight: The Truth Shall Reign

  Chapter Nine: For Her

  Chapter Ten: The Balance of Life

  Epilogue

  Please Leave A Review

  Leave a review

  Extras

  Glossary

  Sneak Peak: Unmasked Heart

  Sneak Peak: The Bargain III

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  Unveiling Love

  A London Regency Suspense Tale: Episode IV

  Vanessa Riley

  Dear Lovely Reader,

  Unveiling Love is a serialized historical romance or soap opera told in episodes. Each episode averages three to eight chapters, about 18,000 to 30,000 words. Each episode resolves one issue. Emotional cliffhangers may be offered, but the plot, the action of the episode, will be complete in resolving this issue.

  My promise to you is that the action will be compelling, the romance passionate, and the journey like nothing you've read before. I will tell you in the forward the length. This episode, Episode IV, is ten chapters long, 35,000 words. Enjoy this Regency Romance.

  Vanessa Riley

  Winning in the courts, vanquishing England's foes on the battlefield, Barrington Norton has used these winner-take-all rules to script his life, but is London's most distinguished mulatto barrister prepared to win the ultimate fight, restoring his wife's love?

  Amora Norton is running out of time. The shadows in her mind, which threaten her sanity and alienate Barrington's love, have returned. How many others will die if she can't piece together her shattered memories? Can she trust that Barrington's new found care is about saving their marriage rather than winning the trial of the century?

  In this episode:

  Amora Norton needs to make all the victims of the Dark Walk Abductor truth-tellers, and she will risk all, her health and her heart, to see justice. She now understands she'll never have peace until everything is made known. Yet, will she survive disappointing Barrington one final time?

  Barrington Norton refuses to lose one more thing and will stop Amora from risking her life to catch a killer. This barrister will take it upon himself to protect her and will sentence the monster who has stolen everything Barrington values. Nonetheless, is he willing to pay the ultimate price to make his wife whole?

  Don't miss the exciting conclusion of this serial.

  Sign up for my newsletter at www.vanessariley.com or www.christianregency.com. Notices of releases, contests, my Regency Lover's pack, and other goodies will be made available to you.

  Dedication

  I dedicate this book to my copy editor supreme, my mother, Louise, my loving hubby, Frank, and my daughter, Ellen. Their patience and support have meant the world to me.

  I also dedicate this labor of love to critique partners extraordinaire: June, Mildred, Lori, Connie, and Gail.

  Love to my mentor, Laurie Alice, for answering all my endless questions.

  Love to Sharon & Kathy, they made me feel the emotion. You're never second place in my heart.

  And I am grateful for my team of encouragers: Sandra, Michela, Felicia, Piper, and Rhonda.

  Books by Vanessa Riley

  Madeline's Protector

  Swept Away, A Regency Fairy Tale

  The Bargain, A Port Elizabeth Tale, Episodes I-IV

  Unveiling Love, A London Suspense Tale

  Unmasked Heart, A Regency Challenge of the Soul Series

  Sign up at VanessaRiley.com for contests, early releases, and more.

  Copyright © 2016 Vanessa Riley

  Published by BM Books

  A Division of Gallium Books

  Suite 236B, Atlanta, GA 30308

  All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-943885-13-8

  Barrington Norton: a barrister by trade, he is a free-borne mulatto gentleman of a wealthy black merchant's daughter and a landowner's ne'er-do-well son.

  Amora Norton: the wife of Barrington Norton. She is of mixed blood, the daughter of an Egyptian woman and a wealthy Spanish apple merchant.

  Henutsen Tomàs: Amora's Egyptian mother.

  Smith: a man convicted of coining.

  Cynthia Miller: a songstress and sister of Gerald Miller.

  Gerald Miller: Barrington's best friend who saved his life during the Peninsula War.

  Mr. Beakes: Barrington's solicitor.

  Vicar Wilson: a minister serving at St. George.

  Duke and Duchess of Cheshire: the newly married interracial couple William St. Landon and Gaia Telfair, reformers.

  Mrs. Gretling: an abigail to Amora.

  James: a man-of-all-work to Barrington.

  Mr. Charleton: a rival of Barrington from their youth.

  Mr. Hessing: Barrington's mentor and barrister colleague.

  Hudson Solemn: Barrington's cousin.

  Chapter One: Going to Bedlam

  Amora took Barrington's hand and allowed his strong arms to help her down from his carriage. Her gaze fell upon the stone walls surrounding Bedlam. It took a week for Barrington and Samuel to coerce Mr. Calloway's permission. A whole seven days of trying to find things to paint, of pretending not to notice Barrington's goings and comings from the attic, or his wincing as his wound was dressed.

  None of this distracted her. Only the hope of seeing Sarah kept her wits level.

  James doffed his hat to her and bounced back to his post atop the carriage. "Happy hunting, sir and madam."

  His man's soulful eyes bespoke his heart. He must be concerned about his master returning to Bedlam.

  James leaned his head down. His gaze locked onto Barrington's. "I'll be ready to leave at a moment's notice."

  Her husband nodded. "Thank you."

  Barrington took her hand and led her through the courtyard. His posture hunched as if weighted by all the heaviness of the world. Perhaps his hip still bothered him. A week from being nearly beaten to death wasn't enough time to heal.

  She stopped, reached up and adjusted his cravat, fluffing the folds of the bright white lawn fabric. "This will go well."

  He clasped her hand and looked down upon her. His silvery gray eyes seemed so distant. No crinkles formed of humor, just harsh lines from lack of sleep, or worse, fear. "It's not too late." His tone was low. It bordered upon desperate. "We can get an ice. Do anything else, but this."

  Fingers intertwined, he pressed closer, folding her within his iron embrace. His lips slipped to her brow. "We could leave London forever. We could travel. We could see the world. Let me give you the world, Amora."

  He'd only begged once in his life that she'd witnessed and that was the day she tried to toss herself off the cliff in Clanville.

  Was that it?

  Did he assume she'd lose her reason knowing the truth? Couldn't he see it was the only way to
keep her wits? She brought her dark indigo gloved hands to his chin. "The truth will set us free. Trust in me, please."

  His gray eyes darted. His lips pressed into a firmer line. Surely, he couldn't pledge to completely trust in her. It wasn't in him to lie.

  But she had faith in herself. It might be small and mangled, but it was hers. She could no longer rest without knowing, not anymore. Only the truth could save her.

  They plodded up the stairs. Barrington held open the door and allowed her inside. The stench of mustard and tonics wafted down the corridor. She put a hand to her nose. The place was dark.

  Barrington tugged his hat off. He trudged back and forth waiting. "Mr. Greene, the caregiver, will be here soon."

  He stopped by a door and touched the handle. "To think, Miller was here all that time. I could've visited him if Miss Miller had been honest."

  "Those words don't seem to go together, Miss Miller and honesty."

  A tall grim-faced man cleaning his large onyx spectacles appeared at the entrance of the long hall.

  Barrington walked over to him and shook his hand. "I'm Barrister Norton. You're Mr. Greene?"

  "That I am." He tweaked his thick mustache. "The head administrator of Bethlehem Hospital. I understand you want to see Miss Calloway. It's getting a bit late in the evening for visiting."

  Barrington nodded. His fingers fumbled along the brim of his top hat. "Miss Calloway is a potential witness to a crime. She's one of the Dark Walk Abductor's victims."

  "Crying shame what they say happened."

  Like awakening from a fog, Barrington stepped forward. His grip tightened on his hat, almost as if thumbs would pierce the fabric. "It did happen. We just don't know who the villain is."

  "Well, let's see if the woman is not so dour tonight." Waving, Mr. Greene led them down a long hall. "Miss Calloway disappeared from Vaux Hall and was found a month later, babbling in a ditch a few hours outside of London. Horrible condition."

  A few hours? Amora thought. That could be Clanville, couldn't it? If this woman was Sarah, then Barrington was right. Amora swallowed. How much would her world change knowing that the Dark Walk Abductor held her captive?

  Voices echoed.

  Unintelligible mumblings seemed to crowd them as they paced deeper into the building. A darkened room of beds and bodies lay to the right.

  Greene trudged past, head held high as if the patients were part of the wall. How could one grow cold to human misery?

  The administrator's snow covered head stopped bobbing in front of an illuminated entry. It stood apart in the dim passageway, the only door with light pouring from the frame.

  Barrington's countenance dimmed. "She needs a great deal of light even in the evenings when she should be sleeping?"

  Greene huffed, as if the burden to not be overtaken by darkness was something one could help. "Miss Calloway is quiet if we keep her room lit." He pulled out a skeleton key from his long coat and pressed it into the lock.

  As Amora followed, the smells of urine and stale air assaulted her. The familiar toxic perfume wrenched at her soul. Oh, how she'd rather smell the stinging scent of lye soap from the asylum or even wretched chrysanthemums. Her fingers trembled. She stuffed her hands into her pockets.

  A lump with blonde hair rolled into a ball was chained to the bed.

  Two makeshift wall sconces were attached to the plain gray wall. Large candles burned from them. If the candles were snuffed, the poor girl and everyone in the room wouldn't see more than a few inches forward. Amora's heart raced. Being trapped in this small space with no light would be death.

  Almost as if her mind had willed it, one of the wicks lost its flame. The dimmed light of the space raced her pulse, but fear wouldn't stop her from knowing the truth.

  "Fool light. Would be the way when I come for this one." Mr. Green shook his head then palmed the wall, knocking as if to rouse a mute. "Miss Calloway, you have visitors."

  The woman shivered and tugged on her stained brown blanket. The thick metal links chimed, clinking with each movement.

  "Do you…" Barrington's eyes darted. He fanned his nose. "Do you have to keep them like this?"

  "We're shorthanded and ill-funded. We get a little over three shillings a week per lunatic. Her family pays a little more so she's not in the open room with the rest."

  Wrenching his neck, Barrington shook his head. "That's barely a bag of sugar. Certainly not enough for a proper diet and care. If someone were kept on an upper floor, how much would that be?"

  Mr. Greene poked at the woman. "More."

  "We've come on short notice. Do you at least clean her up for visits with her family?" Barrington's strong voice bellowed, echoing in the small room. "They shouldn't see her like this."

  Painful laughter dripped from the administrator's lips. "No one visits her. The Calloways have three other daughters to wed. They consider this one deceased to not detract from the others' chances." The smirk on his face erased. "Does anyone have enough time to deal with the unfortunate?"

  Barrington's face dipped. He gazed toward the floor as if it held one of his law books. "We need to make time. Love and decency demands it."

  Amora heard regret echo in Barrington's low tone. Her heart trembled. She had regrets, too. Barrington had placed himself in jeopardy taking her to Bedlam, the place where he'd pilfered Miller. If anything untoward happened to her husband, those regrets would burn her up inside. She mouthed, "I'm sorry," but he never looked up, never saw how her heart had turned toward him again.

  Heavier and harder, Mr. Greene pounded the wall once more. The rhythmic tap, tap, tap sounded like falling bricks. "Wake up, Miss Calloway."

  He turned his hardened grimace toward Barrington. "Better here where we can keep the poor girl from mischief or suicide."

  Beneath Amora's palm, the muscles in Barrington's arms tensed. "Greene, stop. The lady does not seem to want to speak with us." He raised head and caught Amora's gaze. "Come along, my dear."

  No, she couldn't. Not with so many questions. With a pat to his forearm, Amora left his side. She inched toward the bed until she stood directly underneath the precious candle. "Miss Calloway. Can you hear me?"

  No response came from the poor woman, but Amora had come too far to be deterred. She needed to touch the woman, to see if she was her Sarah. Amora's soul felt cut in two. She wanted her Sarah. But if this woman was she, then that would mean Barrington was right. The Dark Walk Abductor was her monster.

  Mr. Greene stepped between Amora and the inmate's bed. "Miss Calloway, visitors have come to see you."

  "Has he come to make it dark again?" A feeble voice emanated from the pile of curly blond hair. "Will you torment me again?"

  "No, ma'am." Mr. Greene stepped away. "She's not going to cooperate. I've got another appointment."

  Amora slipped past him and put her hand on Sarah's head. "Let us stay with her a few minutes. You can go about your day."

  "Fine." The administrator headed to the door. She's chained so I don't think she could escape from here."

  He eyed Barrington before he exited and closed the door behind him.

  Her husband left his perch from the wall and came to her. He gripped Amora's shoulder. "We shouldn't stay. I have a bad feeling."

  She glanced at him and saw fear in the wide irises of his eyes. Was it fear of being discovered for Miller's extrication or fear that Amora would become like this Sarah?

  "That grace in the song you taught me, maybe it's enough to keep me from here."

  "His grace is sufficient. Through toils and strife, Amora. It's sufficient, beyond strife in marriage, through turmoil like this."

  She nodded. For the first time in a long time, that mystery called grace did feel thick and encompassing, almost healing. Almost. "Miss Calloway, lift your head. I need to see if you are my friend."

  The woman pushed deeper into her blanket away from them. "No one wants to be my friend."

  Amora reached for her again, this time taking off her gl
oves and fingering the woman's knotted locks. "Sarah, please. Show me your face. I was trapped like you. I need to know if we were trapped together."

  Trembling, Miss Calloway unfurled herself. Her brown eyes, large and vacant, mirrored the candle's flame shining from the lone wall sconce.

  Amora sat beside her and stared. Time had not been good to this woman. Amora's Sarah was the same age as she when they were thrust into bondage. The gold of this Sarah's hair had silvered.

  The haggard creature looked more than ten years older. Was this her friend? She couldn't tell. A tear slipped from Amora's eye. She'd failed at pretending to be strong. No, that grace wasn't resilient. "I don't know if she's my Sarah, Barr. I don't know anything."

  He opened his arms wide. "You know enough. Come to me, brave girl."

  Before Amora could move from the bed and toss herself into Barrington's safe embrace, the woman reached out with a dirty palm and caught Amora's cheek.

  "It's me. Sarah. Know me, even if I can't remember you."

  "Sweetheart, move from her."

  Barrington's hushed tone caught Amora's attention as did his warning, but Sarah's bony fingers had looped into her bonnet strings. Fear didn't squeeze at Amora's heart, but the anxiety of never knowing the truth did. She brushed the hair from Sarah's temples exposing healed scars. "Is it you? Were we together in the Priory, the old ruins? In my dreams, I hear the bricks falling every night. Do you?"