Searching Hearts Box Set: Books 1-5

by St. Clair, Ellie

  “Don’t worry about those, Mama,” she said, swooping down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You are beautiful just the way you are.”

  “Ah, sweet girl,” said Marie. “Now, scoot. We have only a few short hours and you must be ready.”

  “All right!” Polly said with a laugh, and took off back down the hall, eager to don the dress that made her feel like a princess at her coronation ball.

  9

  Sebastian was, by this point, rather frustrated. All his hopes had been dashed. Lady Polly was ignoring his advice as regarded Lord Yardley, and Yardley was practically oozing with confidence.

  He was attending yet another ball — a masquerade no less — and had arrived earlier than he would normally, mostly so that he could watch and wait for Lady Polly and Lord Yardley’s meeting. Unfortunately for him, he had seen the way Lord Yardley had practically pounced on Lady Polly the moment she stepped through the door of the Duke of Stowe’s home, even though this was a masquerade ball. It was quite obvious that she had either told him or shown him what her mask would be, which meant that it was no challenge for Lord Yardley to secure her hand and dot his initials down on her card for his chosen dances.

  Not that many would be unsuspecting of Lady Polly’s identity, especially given that her mother followed behind her with the smallest of masks on her face. Evidently, the Duchess did not care for her identity to be concealed, especially when she was meant to be chaperoning her youngest daughter. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, Sebastian was not quite sure.

  Polly was resplendent in a long satin gown of purple and aquamarine, quite striking against her own pale coloring. Something like anger balled inside him, his gut clenching as he watched Yardley press a rather prolonged kiss to the back of Lady Polly’s hand. She smiled up at the man, clearly quite taken with him. It had not mattered a jot what her mother — nor he — had said about Lord Yardley, Lady Polly had chosen to ignore it all entirely.

  Letting out an exasperated sigh, Sebastian clenched the balcony rail and tried to think what he might do. He could not get the lady from his mind, finding that he had become more and more concerned for her as the weeks had gone by. Three weeks it had been since he had last heard Lord Yardley speak about his intention to conquer Lady Polly and Sebastian was in no doubt that the man fully intended to do what he had so proudly stated. He had tried to warn the girl, but the more he said to her, the more determined she was to prove him — and everyone else — wrong.

  Keeping his eyes fixed on the lady in question, Sebastian steeled his resolve and moved a little farther along the balcony. He would not rush down and remove Polly from Yardley’s arm, even though everything in him yearned to do so. Rather, he would simply have to wait, enduring while the ball continued on.

  It was rather a long wait. Yardley relinquished Polly to other gentlemen who claimed her for their dances but was almost immediately back by her side soon after. Of course, he could not dance with her more than twice but that did not prevent him from staying by Lady Polly’s side as an ardent admirer might. Even the Duchess appeared to be taken in by Yardley’s zeal, for she talked with him quite happily and even waved her daughter and Lord Yardley away onto the dance floor when it came their time to dance.

  Sebastian gritted his teeth as he saw the Duchess, her small mask revealing most of her face, talking animatedly with another masked lady, gesturing toward her daughter and Lord Yardley. It appeared Sebastian’s words of warning only a few hours earlier hadn’t had much effect.

  Of course, Yardley was running the risk of the Duke’s wrath falling on his head should he do anything to disgrace Lady Polly – but Sebastian knew that Yardley was hoping Lady Polly’s shame would be so great that she would not speak of it to her father. Lord Yardley would simply proclaim himself the victor amongst his friends. There might be whispers and rumors, but both Yardley and Lady Polly would deny them, and, in time, society would move on to a better piece of gossip.

  Sebastian’s hands tightened on the rail as he thought of all those Yardley had mistreated before Lady Polly. He would ensure that, this time, he was brought to an abrupt end.

  A sudden movement caught his eye as Sebastian realized he’d allowed his gaze to drift away. Polly was being walked toward the doors at the back of the ballroom that led into the gardens – and was gazing up at Yardley with such adoration, she didn’t spare even a backward glance toward her mother.

  Cursing, Sebastian hurried along the balcony and down the staircase, knowing he was about to lose sight of them. Once they entered the gardens, he might not be able to find them as easily as he had hoped. Yardley would take her somewhere discrete in order to try and press his attentions upon her, which meant that there was no time to lose. He had to find them, before it was too late.

  The moment he stepped outside, the gloom enveloped him, even as he lifted his mask from his face. There were a few lanterns dotted about, but the gardens had been left rather dark – obviously to hide those who chose to walk about the area with a lover by their side. That was a fairly common occurrence, of course, especially for wealthy widows and the like. However, Sebastian was sure that Lady Polly would be rather naïve when it came to such things and was, most likely, simply walking with Lord Yardley under the supposition that he might propose to her.

  “Where are you?” he hissed, hurrying forward into the darkness. All he needed to hear was her voice, the sound of her speaking to Lord Yardley. Then he would be able to bump into them both under the pretense of taking air and carefully guide Lady Polly back indoors. She would be angry at him, but so be it. It would, at least, save her any embarrassment – but this would only work if he could find them in time.

  “My dear Lady Polly…”

  The whisper carried across the gardens toward Sebastian, making him pause. Where had it come from?

  “Lord Yardley…” came the muffled whisper, so soft that Sebastian couldn’t make out whether it was in protest or encouragement.

  He heard rustling, followed by a bit of a groan.

  “Lord Yardley,” her voice was more insistent this time. “I do not think that–”

  “Come now, do not be shy,” Lord Yardley pressed, as Sebastian began to approach them more rapidly. “Do you not believe my devotion to you?”

  Hardly able to see anything, Sebastian made his way forward to where he thought they were ensconced, hearing nothing but silence for a few moments – until the sounds of a struggle reached his ears. Lady Polly was clearly unwilling to accept Lord Yardley’s advances.

  “Lord Yardley, I said no!”

  “That is quite enough!” Sebastian called out, seeing a wooden trellis just ahead of him, against which he now saw Yardley had leaned Lady Polly against. “Yardley, whatever do you think you are doing?”

  Yardley lifted his head but did not let Lady Polly’s wrists go, still pushing her against the trellis. Both their masks were discarded on the grass.

  “And what do you think you are doing?” the man’s voice rang out. “Could you not find a woman of your own this evening, so you thought to ruin my fun? Come now, man, an audience is not much welcomed here.”

  “I said, let her go,” Sebastian repeated, his voice low and grating. “It doesn’t seem as if she is completely willing to have your attentions upon her. Step aside, man.”

  “Lord Taylor, is that you?” Lady Polly gasped, as Yardley began to chuckle.

  “It is,” Sebastian replied, grimly. “Your game is finished, Yardley. Leave the girl be.”

  Lady Polly winced as Yardley dropped her wrists from his tight grip, and she unconsciously began rubbing them. She cleared her throat. “Lord Yardley was just sharing with me the depths of his affections, Lord Taylor,” she replied, a little breathlessly. “Although I believe he became rather caught up in the moment and did not stop when I asked him to. Please understand, Lord Yardley, this cannot happen again.”

  Sebastian blinked, somewhat confused. Lady Polly was taking all this rather well, he thou
ght – until he actually took note of her words and realized that she was still under the impression that Yardley actually felt something for her, that maybe he was even in love with her. Closing his eyes for a moment, Sebastian set his jaw and drew closer to them both. This was going to be heartbreaking for the girl. He knew all too well how she would feel.

  “Lady Polly, you believe the man is going to marry you, do you not?” he asked, then took in Yardley’s widening eyes. “Yardley, you had best go find the Duchess of Ware and tell her you wish to wed her daughter, for you well know what it means to be caught in a garden placing such attentions on an eligible young lady. Although, it doesn’t much matter if you are to wed anyhow, now does it?” He held the man’s gaze firmly, seeing the way his jaw began to jut out.

  “Lord Yardley?” Lady Polly asked, her voice a little uncertain as she turned her gaze to the man, who said nothing. “You said that you were considering a future with me, and I do believe that mayhap Lord Taylor is correct.” She lifted her chin and tried to capture his gaze. “Such attentions are both wonderful and yet rather improper.”

  Lord Yardley began to laugh, his eyes glittering as he dropped Lady Polly’s hands. “I suppose I have no choice but to now tell you the truth of it, my dear girl,” he chuckled, his voice filled with mockery. “I have no intention of wedding you, Lady Polly. I never have.”

  10

  Polly stared at Lord Yardley, her mind screaming that she could not have heard those words from his lips.

  “Wh– what do you mean?” she whispered, leaning heavily against the trellis as Lord Yardley picked up his mask from the grass and absently brushed a few blades of grass from it. “I thought you cared for me.”

  Lord Yardley rolled his eyes, his demeanor changing entirely. “You were quite easy to fool, my dear.”

  “Fool?” she gasped, her legs beginning to tremble. “You promised me that–”

  “Yes, yes, I promised you a great deal, did I not?” he replied, with a sardonic smile. “More the fool you to believe me, especially given my reputation. You were a challenge, a bet made amongst my friends. How glad I am to be gaining the coffers! Ho, there, Lord Jacobs! Luckily, I had a witness awaiting us to prove myself.”

  Polly felt her jaw drop open, and the humiliation engulfed her as she saw the man step out from across the path and give them a slight nod with a smirk on his face, before he laughed and returned to the house party.

  She did not know at all what to say. For weeks Lord Yardley had bestowed his attentions upon her, making her think that he cared, that he was going to court her, and eventually take her for his wife. However he had not been at all what he had said, but rather, what everyone else told her about him was true. He had simply put on a disguise in order to make her believe he felt something for her and she, the naive fool that she was, had believed him. She just couldn’t understand it — he would go to all that trouble, for weeks on end, simply to win a bet amongst his friends?

  Lord Taylor stepped forward, his face a mask of anger and, without warning, punched Lord Yardley hard across the face. It was clearly not the first time Lord Taylor had been in a fistfight, and Lord Yardley staggered back, letting out a howl of pain and clutching his face. Even in the gloom, Polly could see the blood spurting from his nose and dripping between his fingers. She said nothing, but inwardly felt justification at Yardley’s pain.

  “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, it shall be all the worse for you,” Lord Taylor said, his voice low and threatening. “There will be no crowing over this, no collecting of funds. I witnessed it all, remember. Tell your friend to forget what he saw. The Duke of Ware shall know of this, if you dare bring Lady Polly’s name into disrepute. You shall know his wrath, as well as that of his sons, who are equally protective of their little sister.”

  Lord Yardley fell on his knees, his fingers pressing at his nose as he whimpered.

  “Come, Lady Polly,” Lord Taylor said, quietly. “Just this way.”

  Polly tried to move but found that her legs simply would not do as they were told. Lord Taylor, picking up her mask, offered her his arm and, leaning on him, Polly began to make her way from the gardens.

  It was as though she were walking in a dream. Everything was moving so slowly, and she was not quite sure where she was going. Before reaching the house, Lord Taylor stopped her and slipped her mask back into place, tying it behind her head. She did not so much as move or thank him, feeling entirely numb.

  Lord Taylor led her back toward the door, entering the ballroom as surreptitiously as he could. Most of the floor was taken up with twirling dancers and, as they made their way to the staircase that led to the refreshments and the balcony overlooking the dancers, Polly felt overwhelmed, and she stumbled just as they were reaching the bottom of the steps.

  “Just up these stairs and then you will be out of sight,” Lord Taylor murmured, wrapping one arm around her waist. “It is just as well you have a mask, for otherwise you would be much more obvious.”

  How Polly made it to the top of the stairs, she could not quite say. Lord Taylor’s strong arm held her tightly, guiding her along the balcony to an alcove in the corridor, where he eased her down into a straight-backed chair next to a small side table.

  “I will just be a moment,” Lord Taylor murmured, bending down to look into her face. “Are you going to be all right?”

  Polly nodded, her heart beginning to burn in her chest.

  Lord Taylor touched her hand, making her jump.

  “Just a moment, I swear it,” he repeated, before straightening and striding away.

  Pulling the mask from her face, Polly watched him go with dead eyes, as all emotions left her body, but for the shame that swept over her. Shame that she had been so easily led, so easily taken in. Shame that Lord Yardley had tried to take advantage of her and that, initially, she had let him kiss her. When he had dropped his lips to her neck, it had felt rather lovely, until they moved to her décolletage and his hands began to yank down her bodice.

  She had tried to stop him and that had been when he had caught her wrists. She had thought him playful, wondering if he was overcome with passion, but she had grown a little frightened when he had not stopped as she’d asked. And still, when Lord Taylor had appeared, determined to put a stop to what Lord Yardley was doing, she had tried her best to defend the Earl, still believing that he cared for her.

  How wrong she had been.

  Lord Yardley had proven his true reputation to her in the cruelest of ways. What would he have done should she have allowed him more liberties? Or, if she had continued to refuse, would he have pressed himself on her regardless? A cold shiver ran down her spine, making her shudder violently. How easily she had believed him, how much she had defended him to both her mother and Lord Taylor!

  Her heart — and her trust — was broken into such small pieces that Polly was quite sure she would never find all the fragments again. It would never be whole. She was convinced it would remain shattered, piercing her, for the rest of her days. Never again would she allow herself to fall in love, or to even consider a gentleman, she vowed. It was much too dangerous, much too risky, to do such a thing, for clearly one could never know the true heart of a man. Lord Yardley had proved that to her.

  The sound of hurrying footsteps caught her ears, but she did not turn her head. She already knew who it would be.

  “Here.”

  A glass was pressed into her hands and she took a sip, startled when she tasted the burn of brandy. It was what she needed, though, to bring her body out of the shock that was still causing it to shake.

  “He is nothing but a fool and a coward,” Lord Taylor said firmly as he bent over her. “He would have had his way with you and then left you behind, believing that you would not speak to your father about what he had done out of shame and mortification.”

  “And he would have been right,” Polly said vehemently, her throat aching as she spoke, and she dropped her head into her hands. “I am already too
humiliated for words.”

  “You must tell your father,” Lord Taylor urged, moving a chair next to hers and sitting down. He was so close to her that their legs touched, his knee pressing against hers. Polly did not start or try to move away, finding his presence to be something of a comfort, even though she was still mortified at how he had found her with Lord Yardley.

  “No, I cannot,” Polly replied, shaking her head and turning it away from him. “He cannot know of how foolish I have been.”

  “You were not foolish,” he assured her, reaching for her cold hand and pressing it between his own as though attempting to warm her. “You were taken in by a man who is well known for being a rogue and a rake.”

  “His mother is my own mother’s particular friend,” Polly said, miserably. “It will bring shame to the lady and ruin that friendship if my father were to do anything.”

  “Your brother, then?”

  “Daniel? Oh no,” she said, briskly shaking her head. “Daniel is liable to kill the man.”

  He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised at hearing her speak of her brother in such a way. She wasn’t a fool, however. Daniel was somewhat ruthless, particularly when it meant protecting his family.

  She heard Lord Taylor sigh, evidently frustrated at her lack of willingness to speak out against Lord Yardley. Yet, she knew she could not bring herself to say anything to her father, such was the weight of guilt on her heart and mind. She would be shamed all over again in telling her father what she had allowed Yardley to do and, while he might then be furious with the man, he would likely reprimand her as well, for not listening to the warnings of her mother, for going into the gardens alone and unchaperoned with a young man. She knew that he would not hold back in his rebuke and, as she thought about it, Polly had to admit that she would deserve every word of it.

  “Then what shall you do?” Lord Taylor asked, his voice breaking into her thoughts. “Are you going to return to the ball as though nothing has ever happened? Attend the remainder of the Season’s events and continue to seek out a more suitable partner for yourself?”