‘He will. And handsomely. Because I have another plan. One he will not see coming.’
This sounded more like it. It might be vengeful and mean-spirited, but she wanted to see Justin suffer. ‘What is it?’
‘I thought we’d give him the deed to the Berkeley Square house and wash our hands of him completely.’
If the sky suddenly fell down or pigs sprouted wings and started to fly above their heads, she couldn’t have been more surprised. ‘That’s it?’ Lydia could barely lift her jaw from the floor. ‘You want to gift him the house! That is your plan? Why on earth would you want to give him the deed?’
‘Because, as you rightly said, my love, to err is human and to forgive divine.’
‘How could you possibly even suggest forgiving him?’ Because she never would. Her eyes had been opened wide to what he was and, more importantly, she felt it in her heart. Her brother was dead to her and deserved everything he got. ‘He’s a monster!’
‘He is. But we are better than that, Lydia, and, more than anything, I have decided it simply doesn’t matter any more.’
‘How can you say it doesn’t matter?’
He smiled at her—beamed, in fact. ‘Because he didn’t win.’ Something which seemed to please him immensely. ‘He threw everything at us, lied, schemed, cheated, plotted, separated us by ten thousand miles and seven long years—yet here we are regardless. Still together. Still madly in love. It’s taken the truth for me to finally realise that that is really all that matters to me. I have everything I’ve ever wanted and nine-tenths of that everything is you.’
‘That is all…’ Her heart was positively melting at the way he was looking at her. There was so much love and joy in his eyes. ‘…Lovely… But I still do not understand why we should give him the deed. Not having him arrested for his crimes is one thing—but giving him the house is rewarding him for his treachery when he deserves to rot in jail.’
‘Do you want that house, Lydia? Because I certainly don’t. Whenever I see it, I remember the day I was dragged away from it in chains. It’s filled with nothing but bad or tainted memories and the debilitating, depressing ghosts of the past—and I think we are both done with all that. It will only hold us back as all thoughts of revenge always do. Let him have it, with my blessing. If you want a house, give me two years to save and I’ll buy you one. A better one. Certainly a happier one. If we give him that one, then we can cut all ties with the dreadful Bartons for ever—and move forward.’
More proof she had married the perfect man. Loved the perfect man. He was giving up his rightful, hard-won justice—for her. ‘He’ll only lose it.’
‘That is inevitable.’
‘But it is your three thousand pounds, Owen! And I am mindful you have already lost ten.’ Almost everything he had. Each penny earned with his blood, sweat and tears, ten thousand punishing miles away. All diligently saved for the future he longed for, but could only dream of having while her brother squandered his away.
‘I didn’t lose anything, my darling.’ He pulled her up, grinning. ‘Because ultimately I won. So much more, ironically, than I bargained for. So much more than I ever dared hope for.’
He kissed her again. A gloriously passionate and public kiss that left her completely breathless. ‘And don’t let this go to your beautiful, vexing, stubborn head, Wife, but I’d have happily paid twenty, so I think I’ve got off lightly.’
‘You didn’t have twenty.’
‘I’d have found twenty. I’d have sold my share in Libertas in a heartbeat…for you.’ Before she could find the words to speak, he took her hand and entwined his fingers through hers. ‘Come—let’s get that toxic deed and give it to him now. His face will be an absolute picture. Then, let’s have a wonderful life purely to spite him—and your miserable father and anyone else who looks down their nose at us. Let’s savour every moment, Lydia, build a million wonderful memories to make up for the ones that were stolen and thank our lucky stars that fate was always on our side. Because it won’t be on his. Your brother is doomed to live the rest of his miserable, loveless life looking over his shoulder for all the numerous others he has cheated, robbed and maligned over the years. All of whom will not be as forgiving as this better and bigger man. And unless he has an epiphany, which I fear he is incapable of having, he is doomed to die a miserable and lonely death one day—just like your father. A proper life sentence… Whichever way you look at it.’
What a truly noble man he was. ‘Clearly I married a mad man, but if that is what you want…’ She tapped her reticule in defeat. ‘The deed is in here. Alongside the list of his debts and the letter he sent to Kelvedon. I was going to take it all to Bow Street and ask them to arrest him.’
He seemed momentarily surprised and then touched until both emotions were replaced by cheerful resignation. ‘I dare say it is only a matter of time before they do—so let’s save ourselves the hassle and leave that up to some other poor wretch. All the interviews, statements, the trial…the scandal and publicity…’ He made a face. ‘Having been through all that before, albeit from the other side of the dock, I’d rather spend the time productively making up for lost time. Or making those babies you were so adamant you wanted.’
‘But he wronged you. Stole seven years from you.’
‘He did. But his arrest won’t change any of that. I cannot turn back time. I will never get those years back and neither will you. They are done and dusted. But our love endured.’
‘And you are not angry?’ Neither did he look it. ‘I don’t understand why you are not shouting and waving your arms about?’
He kissed her nose, grinning. ‘Clearly marriage to a good woman has mellowed me. Perhaps I have become even tempered all of a sudden?’ He shook his head, smiling as if such a thing was indeed a miracle.
‘But to allow him to get away with it hardly seems just! Are you sure you don’t want to press charges, Owen?’
‘Bizarrely, never surer. We can’t change the past, Lydia, any more than we can run from it. But we can come to terms with it. It happened. It wasn’t fun. But we emerged out the other end stronger people. In a strange sort of way, I wouldn’t be where I am now if your brother hadn’t cheated me. I wouldn’t have Libertas, or Randolph or Gertie and all their annoying children—or very probably you. We were so young and naive, Lydia, and our situation next to impossible. We might not have stayed the course.’
‘But what if we had?’
‘Let’s not kick that hornets’ nest. Neither of us could possibly ever know what might have been. Only what was and what is.’
‘You are very philosophical all of a sudden.’
‘I am. Perhaps it will become my newest, most nauseating trait?’ He tugged her away from the Serpentine and, feeling decidedly off-kilter and confused, she allowed him to lead her briskly to Berkeley Square. While she hoped he might come to his senses, he showed no signs of it and beamed as he knocked loudly on the door.
The butler answered straight away, looking every bit as wary as he had on the day she had been left standing on the doorstep.
‘We have come to see my brother, Maybury.’
He swallowed nervously. ‘I shall see if he is at home, my lady.’ Then he tellingly closed the door rather than inviting them in.
‘Care to make a wager he is suddenly out?’
‘He wouldn’t dare!’ Lydia would knock the damn door down herself if he tried it.
‘Cowards always hide.’ Owen’s deep voice was carrying, enough that several of the people around them slowed their pace to watch the spectacle. ‘Especially when they are in the wrong.’ In a show of impressive bravado, he sat on the top step, facing out to the square, arranging his long legs in front of him and crossing them at the ankles as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Then he winked and patted the stone beside him. ‘We might as well be comfortable while we wait.’
It was funn
y—sat next to Owen and watching the sea of curtains twitch all around them, she didn’t feel the least bit humiliated. If anything, she felt empowered. By the time Maybury returned, looking completely terrified, she had the makings of a plan all worked out. Owen might well be noble and determined to be the bigger man—but she was a woman. His woman. And she felt no compunction to be the bigger person at all.
‘I am sorry, my lady, but His Lordship is indisposed.’
‘Is he, indeed? Well, that is embarrassing…’ She allowed her voice to carry, too. There was no feeling of mortification this time. No cringing embarrassment. In front of the whole of Berkeley Square she fully intended to cause a scene. ‘It puts me in the dreadful predicament of having to conclude my business with him here on the street.’ Slowly, she stood and made a great show of rummaging in her reticule.
‘Kindly give him this, please, Maybury. It is the deed to this house, which my dear husband bought to save my feckless brother and miserable father from complete financial ruin. Tell him that against my advice and despite my cowardly brother’s shoddy and ungentlemanly behaviour towards him, my beloved and noble husband has decided to gift the deed back to him.’ She unfolded the enormous piece of parchment and practically held it aloft so that any onlookers could indeed confirm at every social engagement they happened to be gossiping at it appeared to be every inch a legal document before she imperiously handed it to the butler. ‘And can you also kindly inform the new Earl of Fulbrook that, henceforth, we wash our hands of him and his further six thousand pounds’ worth of gambling debt.’
The poor fellow blinked back at her for several seconds before he finally found his voice. ‘I will, my lady.’
‘Furthermore, please tell him that while my sainted husband is benevolent enough to forgive him for his treachery, I am not. When Bow Street come knocking—and both they and the bailiffs will come knocking one day very soon—I shall happily give them statements as to his character and all his past transgressions. All of them, Maybury. Be quite specific in that.’
Poor Maybury gulped. ‘I shall, my lady.’
‘And do let him know I’ve now found all the evidence I need and I shall keep it until such a time as I deign to use it.’
The butler simply nodded this time, his eyes as wide as saucers.
‘Splendid.’ She reached out her hand and hoisted a quietly impressed Owen back to his feet. Out of the corner of her eye she could see she was drawing quite the crowd, as suddenly, and a tad predictably, half of the residents of Berkeley Square all felt the overwhelming need for some fresh air and were taking a hasty walk. Better still, every carriage seemed to have stopped and, despite the flurry of activity all around them, it was eerily silent. The perfect opportunity to remove the dagger from her back and plunge it further into her hideous sibling.
‘And might I also suggest—because I have always had a great deal of time for you, Maybury—that you find yourself another employer, as I cannot see this particular job lasting for much longer because the Barton coffers are as empty as my cowardly brother’s heart. Your loyalty has been admirable, but we both know it has been severely misplaced. This is a dreadful house, Maybury. Owned by a dreadful family of selfish men who have no regard for other people, or indeed the law.’ She smiled and, to the old retainer’s shock, leant forward to squeeze his hand.
‘Goodbye, Maybury. I shan’t be back, so you’ll never have to leave me standing on this soulless doorstep again.’
‘I am sorry about that.’ Looking embarrassed, the butler bowed. ‘Good day, my lady… Mr Wolfe.’
She turned until the distinction made her pause. While she had an audience, she might as well make the most of it.
‘Actually, Maybury, I am not a Barton any longer.’ Thank goodness. ‘I am Mrs Lydia Wolfe.’ The name she had wished for a decade ago. The name which felt exactly right. The name she said loud enough for all the curious inhabitants of Berkeley Square to hear and which she might well have tattooed on to her skin in an intimate place which only Owen would ever see. An indelible mark symbolising an indelible truth. ‘And I am very proud to be so.’
She took his arm and beamed up at him, the world slowing to a standstill as he smiled back.
‘And what, pray tell, was all that about?’
She shrugged, unrepentant. ‘I am human. I erred. And it felt divine.’
‘I see.’ But he was smiling. ‘Now that you have got that off your chest, are you ready, Wife?’
‘For anything, Owen—as long as you are always beside me.’
‘I am never leaving you again, woman. Make no bones about that! You are stuck with me for ever, Mrs Wolfe.’
‘A life sentence.’
‘With absolutely no chance of a pardon, I’m afraid.’
‘That all sounds positively splendid… Husband. Do lead the way.’
And without looking back they stepped forward, finally leaving the past behind where it belonged, towards the bold, bright and wonderful future they were always destined to have.
Together.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781488065774
The Scoundrel’s Bartered Bride
Copyright © 2020 by Susan Merritt
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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An unexpected inheritance
An explosive reunion
Hardworking architect Adam Monroe’s world is shaken when he inherits an earldom! Thrust into the ton, he bumps into widow Kitty Fenton—his lost love. Years before, he refused to elope with Kitty to save her from ruin, and was heartbroken when she married soon after he left. Perhaps fate has given him a chance to discover the truth—after all, beneath the hurt, the sparks of attraction are as strong as ever…
As she rose from her curtsy, however, the crescent of her thick dark lashes lifted to reveal a pair of clear gray eyes and, as their gazes collided, recognition hit Adam with the force of a lightning bolt.
Kitty!
He had hoped they might meet, but he’d not expected it so soon. He’d even wondered if she might prove difficult to find without revealing their previous acquaintance. Deep inside him, a bud of pleasure unfurled, radiating a happy, contented glow. But even
as his lips began to curve in a smile, so his brain recognized the signs that Kitty did not share his joy at meeting again. There was her cool, frosty stare. The purse of her full lips. The fine groove etched between her eyebrows—a groove that deepened by the second. The stubborn tilt of her chin—a familiar habit from fifteen years before.
Adam blanked his expression yet again, recalling the bad terms on which they had parted, realizing that while he knew he had acted as he had in order to protect her from a naive mistake, Kitty had not been privy to his reasoning. There was no chance for explanation, however. Not yet.
Author Note
It’s hard to say goodbye, and last year I bade farewell to my series centered around the Beauchamp family. Regular readers will know I enjoy writing stories set in the same Regency world, where familiar faces pop up in a supporting role, and so when I was thinking about what to write after finishing Alex’s story (Christmas with His Wallflower Wife), I decided to write a complete standalone.
I didn’t anticipate how hard that would be.
I’ve been immersed in the Beauchamps’ world for several years, and as I wrote one, the next would be percolating inside my brain and each book started off on familiar ground. This was different and I felt like a fish out of water at first—much as my hero, Adam, does when he discovers his first thirty-six years have been a lie and he enters the alien world of the haut ton as an earl.
In the end, I couldn’t resist including two tenuous links to “my” Regency world in The Earl with the Secret Past: one name and one (very) secondary character. I wonder if anyone will spot them.
This is a second-chance-at-love story, where Adam meets up again with widow Kitty, the seventeen-year-old he fell in love with fifteen years ago. I adored both Adam and Kitty, whose confidence has been eroded by her past although she is very good at hiding those insecurities. I hope you enjoy it.
Harlequin Historical July 2020 - Box Set 1 of 2 Page 25