Star-Crossed Summer

by Sarah Stanley

He shrugged. ‘No one on my land has just cause to stir up trouble, but it only takes one discontented bell-wether to lead a flock.’

  ‘Well, the army hasn’t called here. I wouldn’t have known anything about it had it not been for Billy and Molly having gone to Porworthy fair.’

  ‘They were fortunate to get back without being arrested. The army isn’t particular about who it takes, or how. Anyone out tonight is suspected.’ Without asking, he replenished Molly’s glass and drank it all. ‘By God, this is a miserable day for everyone. It will be some time before the mill is rebuilt, so Lavington won’t get the income and his people will be out of work, so the hedge priest who dreamed up tonight’s trouble should be hanged from the nearest crossroads.’ The gale rattled the windows and he went to look out. ‘There are trees down in a number of places, and two of my hothouses have been blown to perdition. Both Lanners are dangerously swollen as well, but at least the tide isn’t expected to be high enough to cause problems. What a summer this is.’ He turned to look at Beth. ‘How calm you are. Clearly Gloucestershire storms put our small breezes to shame. And speaking of that county, yesterday I received a letter from someone you may know. Lady Welland.’

  ‘Lady Welland has been dead for years.’

  He removed his coat. ‘I gather this is the second Lady Welland. She was Mrs Tremoille when I wrote to her.’

  The names reached out like vengeful wraiths. Beth froze. So Jane had married Thomas Welland. Poor Rowan, to have acquired the worst of all stepmothers. ‘I know of whom you speak. Why – why are you corresponding with her?’

  ‘Oh, I heard she had a good stallion for sale, but I was too late. Someone got there before me, at least two months ago.’ He drew a long breath. ‘Well, that’s by the by, and tonight, considering the storm, I decided you should not be on your own.’

  ‘There is no need, for I have Billy and Molly.’

  ‘Who are more concerned with each other than with you.’

  ‘There is still no need for—’ She gasped as the storm increased its endeavours, wailing so strongly down the chimney that it shifted the fire, sending a shower of sparks over the stone hearth.

  ‘You were saying?’ he prompted quietly.

  ‘Please, Landry, what happened between us was wrong and best forgotten.’

  ‘Even to the point of trying to return Snowy?’

  ‘You intended to give him to me, didn’t you?’ she demanded.

  ‘And if I did?’

  ‘Can’t you see that such a gift would be like payment in kind?’

  ‘In kind?’ He looked at her in astonishment.

  She turned away. ‘I wish you would understand how ashamed I am.’

  ‘Beth, how can I understand if you don’t explain? What did I do wrong? Did you perceive an insult that wasn’t intended? Help me, Beth.’

  ‘It wasn’t you, it was me. All me.’ She turned away as the gale shrieked its howling crescendo, and there was a splintering crash from the park as a tree was brought down. Its leaves were being hurled away on the air – just like her new life.

  He stood behind her. ‘Beth, to me what happened was precious and quite unforgettable.’ He rested his hands on her shoulders and his cheek against her hair. ‘I know you have secrets, and I suspect your heart has been given to another, but it doesn’t matter. In a short time you’ve come to mean everything to me, and in order to be with you I’m prepared to agree to whatever conditions you set. Please, Beth, at least concede that what we shared on the cliff was exceptional. You were demonstrative and honest in a way I have never encountered before.’

  ‘I was no better than a she-cat.’

  ‘Stop it!’ His fingers tightened. ‘You behaved like a woman, and showed me that you have your own passions. It awakened me, and my open eyes see only you. Don’t send me away.’

  His voice and touch were enticing, and she closed her eyes. ‘Please don’t do this, Landry,’ she whispered.

  ‘Why? Because you’re afraid of being hurt? I would rather die than hurt you, Beth,’ He turned her to face him. ‘I’ll never have you as completely as you have me, and your secrets, whatever they are, may eventually take you from me, but until then I will accept whatever terms you set.’ He bent his head to try to put his mouth lovingly to hers, but she put a finger to his lips.

  ‘Whatever terms?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I have already admitted to secrets that I cannot confide, but I have denied that there is anyone else. Landry, there is someone else, but he doesn’t love me. He’s not my husband, my fiancé or even someone with whom I have an understanding, nor is he someone else’s husband, but he is a threat to me. I fear him, but I love him too. Given all this, do you still want me?’

  ‘I won’t pretend it doesn’t hurt that you love someone else, but I have no pride or shame. I want you, Beth, and even knowing I could lose you at any moment in the future is better than being without you now.’

  ‘You shame me, Landry. Your motive is love, whereas mine—’

  ‘— is purely physical?’ he interrupted.

  She closed her eyes. In this at least she had to be painfully honest with him. Guy had given life to something vital deep within her, and only he would ever satisfy its needs, but she had to exist without him; things carnal were essential to that existence.

  ‘Yes, Landry. I can desire you, but I cannot love you in the way I think you love me. If that is sufficient for you, then we can be as we were on the cliff.’

  He caught her to him, but she placed her hands against his chest and leaned back, her hazel-green eyes serious. ‘Are you really sure, Landry? Unrequited love is not to be taken lightly.’ He was going to be another Jake. Another Jake.

  ‘I’m sure,’ he whispered, crushing her in a kiss as fierce and unstoppable as his love. He didn’t care about anything, except that she was his for now.

  For her a weight had been lifted because she had been forthright and because he didn’t think ill of her for what had gone before. The relief warmed her blood and her lips softened and parted beneath his. His embrace lifted her from the floor, and she could feel that he was aroused too. He carried her to the door and pressed her back against it, his kiss more imperative and fervent, his hips thrust forward to bury his straining erection against her. His mouth moved from her lips to her eyes, her cheeks, her throat, and all the while he moved against her, to their shared pleasure. Her body began to sing with desire, and it felt so good to surrender honestly that tears stung her eyes. Loving gratification beckoned, and she floated sensuously into its velvet weightlessness. He raised his head to look into her darkened eyes, and she sought his lips again, tasting him, fusing with him. He drew back, his turquoise eyes rich and warm.

  ‘Oh, Beth, all this from mere kisses,’ he whispered, setting her on her feet again, for fear he would take her here, up against a door.

  ‘Make love to me between lavender-scented sheets, Landry,’ she breathed, and went to get a candlestick from a table and hold it to the fire. When it was alight, she returned to take his hand. The flame guttered, and threads of smoke ribboned in the air as she led him up to her room. Once they were inside, she pushed the bolt across and then placed the candle on a table. It was much cooler up here, and the storm howled around the house, carrying the thunder of the sea only yards away from the foundations. She turned to face him untying the ribbon drawstring that fastened her chemise gown under her breasts. The primrose muslin slithered softly from her shoulders and subsided in soft folds around her feet. She wore nothing else, except silk stockings fixed with little blue garters.

  He gazed at her. ‘You are so beautiful,’ he breathed, holding out a hand to her. She went gladly to him and they kissed again. His hands moved adoringly over her body, caressing and exploring, until she drew away and began to unbutton his waistcoat, then removed it and tossed it to a corner. Next she dispensed with his neck cloth, and finally his shirt. He smelled of rosemary and leather, of clean perspiration and the fresh air, and as the shirt pa
rted, her arms slid around his waist and her lips pressed to the soft dark hairs on his chest. She moved her nipples against him and breathed deeply of his scent. It was so vital and exciting that her heart seemed to adjust its beat to match his. He removed his boots, stockings and riding breeches, and at last they were naked together. He drew the bedclothes back, and gathered her up in his arms to place her gently on the sheet. She lay back on the pillow, her body ready to welcome him, and he heard her sigh of pleasure as he joined her, supporting himself on his arms as he lowered his hips toward hers, down and down until she felt the tip of his hot masculinity against the soft lips between her legs. ‘I love you, Beth,’ he whispered, moving until he was at the threshold of her innermost place. She gasped and closed her eyes, knowing it would be Guy she held, Guy to whom she made love. As Landry sank slowly into her, it was Guy’s lips that found hers in a searing kiss that threatened to turn their blood to fire. Slowly Landry drew out again, then in, out and then in, long, rich satisfying strokes that made her flesh quiver with ecstasy. Each leisurely thrust was exquisite, imparting such ravishment that she thought she would lose consciousness. Her soul seemed to break free, soaring away into the wild, stormy night, and the waves of pleasure that undulated through her body were stronger and more rhythmic than those of the high tide beyond the window. Their passion and need was too great for either of them to want to prolong the pleasure, and they cried out together as the final moment came. Weightless and in ecstasy, she clung tightly to him. Their bodies shuddered and undulated together. It was so magnificent, liberating and euphoric that more tears glistened on her cheeks as she drew him down into a tender embrace. Warm satisfaction enveloped them both like a comfortable blanket, and she wrapped her legs around his, so that his virility was still against her most secret places. She put her lips to his throat and tasted the salt on his skin, remembering the dashing and gallant hussar officer she’d first seen only a few days ago. Now, here they were, naked and sated, and more intimate than either of them could have dreamed.

  ‘Oh, Beth, my beloved Beth, I worship everything about you,’ he murmured, his fingers stirring sensuously in the hair at the nape of her neck.

  She curled against him and closed her eyes again, trying to shut out that other face she loved and feared so much.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘By all the whores of Babylon, that was some storm last night, eh?’ Rowan settled back in Guy’s town carriage and tossed his top hat on the seat opposite.

  ‘How disgustingly bright you are, to be sure,’ Guy muttered.

  Rowan grinned. ‘What’s this, a surfeit of wine and women or a bad session at the green baize?’

  ‘Neither, just a restless night and lurid dreams. Too much Wensleydale for supper,’ Guy replied.

  ‘A few rounds with Taffy Hughes would sort you out.’

  Guy grimaced. ‘I refuse to square up to some sweaty fellow in a prize ring.’

  Rowan was curious about Guy’s private life, or lack of it these days. ‘I know you’ve escaped from La Carberry, but it’s not like you to be celibate.’

  ‘Cards provide danger enough.’

  ‘Danger? My dear cousin, money adheres to you as a tick to a dog.’

  ‘What a pleasant analogy,’ Guy murmured.

  Rowan scrutinized him. ‘I will be direct: why don’t you have a fair lady?’

  Guy smiled. ‘Perhaps I find you more to my liking.’

  ‘Well, I know that isn’t so, for I can smell a deviant at sixty paces. Believe me, with looks like mine, it was a vital lesson! So the truth, sir, why are you always alone?’

  ‘You don’t really know whether I am or not, Rowan.’

  ‘If you are not, then who is she?’

  Guy paused. Maybe the time had come to tell Rowan about his quest for Beth. ‘There isn’t anyone, Rowan, but I am definitely pursuing a particular lady. You know her, as it happens. It’s Beth Tremoille.’

  Rowan’s jaw dropped. ‘Beth? But why?’

  ‘I’ve found her father’s elusive last will.’

  Now Rowan stared. ‘How? When?’

  ‘I found it in Gloucester.’ Guy explained where it had been all along.

  ‘And you didn’t tell me?’ Rowan was miffed.

  ‘Don’t take umbrage, my friend, because my silence was out of consideration to you. I didn’t want to make things awkward for you at the wedding. And now I want you to promise that you won’t say anything to anyone else.’

  ‘Damn it all, Guy, you insult me!’

  ‘Not intentionally. I simply need to really impress upon you that I don’t want anyone else to know.’ Guy omitted to add that he was well aware that when in drink, Rowan’s tongue could get the better of him.

  Rowan ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to digest what he’d been told. ‘So, I take it the will makes Beth sole heir?’

  ‘It does.’

  Rowan eyed him. ‘But you don’t want her simply to present her with her father’s will, do you? You want her to marry you, with Tremoille House as her dowry?’

  ‘How well you know me,’ Guy observed wryly.

  ‘What if she refuses?’

  ‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’ And force her if I have to.

  Rowan pursed his lips. ‘Beth isn’t to be trifled with, Guy.’

  ‘You fear you may have to call me out?’ Guy smiled.

  ‘I will if I have to.’

  Guy was at his most amiable. ‘Oh, do calm down. I’m quite sure this will all work out splendidly. Now then, you requested me to accompany you to Putney Heath. Are you still intent upon taking on “Bull” Baldwin?’

  ‘Er, no, actually. It would seem that the prospect of confronting me was too much for him. He’s cried off, pleading a sprained knee. His minion arrived before breakfast this morning.’ Rowan grinned. ‘But I still get the purse. I was most insistent on that before accepting the challenge. If low fellows wish to smash my aristocratic features, they must pay for the privilege.’

  ‘You’re too lightweight and he’d have pulverized you.’

  ‘What kind words of encouragement from one’s second,’ Rowan murmured.

  ‘Is that what I am? Well, being your second doesn’t preclude me from disagreeing with your actions. A broken nose would seriously mar your pretty face, and a well-aimed fist might put your lights out forever.’

  ‘I’ll take that chance.’ Rowan glanced out. ‘Why are we going this way?’

  ‘I never go anywhere these days without making Easterden Street part of the route.’ Guy told him about having seen Beth there.

  ‘More things from which I’ve been excluded?’ Rowan was a little disgruntled. ‘And you hope to see this short fat fellow again?’

  ‘Finding him is not beyond the realms of possibility.’ The carriage negotiated another crossroad, and then turned left into Easterden Street. Dickon slowed the team to a walk, and Guy leaned forward to observe the crowded pavements.

  Rowan sat forward too. ‘London has many short, fat fellows,’ he grumbled.

  ‘Yes, but only one that looks like that! There! Do you see him? Over there, purchasing a newspaper from the boy on the corner!’ Guy rapped his cane against the carriage roof and soon alighted to thread his way toward the corner. Rowan slid across to the nearside of the carriage to watch.

  Henry Topweather, the newspaper tucked under his arm, was just about to cross the busy carriageway to his offices when he was almost jerked from his feet by a hand seizing his shoulder. ‘I say—!’ he squeaked in alarm, and then gaped as he turned to see the hand was attached to Guy’s fashionable, immaculate figure.

  Guy released him. ‘Forgive me, sir, but I’ve been looking for you for some time. Allow me to introduce myself. Sir Guy Valmer.’

  ‘Henry Topweather.’ The agent was nervous. ‘Looking for me, sir? Why?’

  ‘I need to find the whereabouts of a certain young lady. Her name is Miss Elizabeth Tremoille, or perhaps you know her as Miss or Mrs Alder?’


  The agent’s tongue passed over his lips. ‘I’ve never heard of her, Sir Guy.’

  ‘You were talking to her one night, right here in this street. It was at the time of Waterloo. She’s very beautiful, with dark hair, and was wearing an emerald-green gown. She was in a yellow-and-black chaise.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sir Guy, I can’t help you. You are mistaking me for someone else.’

  ‘Oh, no, it was definitely you.’ The more Guy looked at the fellow, the more certain he became.

  ‘Sir, I’m convinced that I would recall such a lady. In my profession—’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘I’m an agent for the sale and lease of property around the country.’ Topweather indicated the upper window opposite, with his name in faded gold.

  ‘And this lady did not come to you in your professional capacity?’

  ‘She did not come to me at all, Sir Guy. I know of no one named Tremoille or Alder, and certainly did not speak to a beautiful woman here at night.’

  Guy was unconvinced, but knew that while the fellow continued to deny any knowledge, there was little he could do. Except, perhaps, secretly inspect Mr Henry Topweather’s records for that part of June. He gave the agent a bland smile. ‘Very well. Once again, I ask your forgiveness.’

  Relief reddened the other’s plump visage. ‘Not at all, Sir Guy, not at all.’

  Guy turned and walked back toward his waiting carriage, and Topweather watched until it had driven away. His little eyes were sly and thoughtful. This incident merely confirmed what he already knew. The mysterious Mrs Alder was not what she seemed. Sir Guy Valmer was seeking her, and she clearly did not wish to be found. Eliza Mary Alder, née Wilkes, widow of Jacob James Alder, sea captain. Presently staying at the Swan with Two Necks in Lad Lane, but formerly of Queen’s Crescent, Scarborough. Skilful lies. She was more likely the Miss Tremoille Sir Guy mentioned. Now what might she pay for Henry Topweather’s silence, eh? On that pleasant thought, he made his way across the street to his offices. A visit to North Devon would be very pleasant at this time of the year, he mused.