Longing for a Liberating Love: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “I know my husband’s behaviour is debauched, yes,” Alina said, her tone bitter, “but there is a double standard for women and for men in such affairs. You know that. You are smart enough to understand that a letter of my open affection would be much more damning than rumours of his indiscretions.”

  “Yes, I know this. If all you have against him is your own knowledge of his mistress, you are a woman without a case. Even if all of London came forward and critiqued him for his actions, you would still be hard-pressed to find a jury willing to separate a father from his son.” Imogene looked intently at Alina. “But what if there was something else you didn’t know. What if there was something illegal Jonas was keeping from not just you, but all of London?”

  “What is it you know, Imogene?” Alina asked curiously, staring at her friend in wonderment.

  “I will tell you,” Imogene said, “but you have to promise me to do something with this information. You’ve been a victim, blown about by Jonas’ whims and selfishness, long enough. If I tell you what I know, you must seek out the truth for yourself and use it to go and get your son. You’re a clever woman, Alina, and you shouldn’t give up so quickly when you know that you are in the right.”

  Alina stared at her friend, smarting from the truth behind Imogene’s words. “Go on,” she pressed. “Tell me everything.”

  “I have a friend in London, a woman with a flat in the upper side.” Imogene pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled an address there. “I visit her sometimes, and I have told her about you. She will likely put you up there if you need a place to stay.”

  “Why would I go back to London?” Alina said, befuddled.

  “Because you’re going to fight for your son, and because you have to follow up on a lead I have there,” Imogene explained. “Now, listen. I have been to visit this friend, Lady Forrester, in the past month. She has her finger on the heartbeat of the city, and hears all the latest gossip earlier than most. She says there was word of Jonas’ return prior to his appearance in the hospital.”

  “What?”

  “He was seen for weeks, maybe even months, before he contacted you, Alina. He wasn’t seen often, and not in any of his regular gambling haunts or social gatherings. No—he was seen by some of the underbelly of London in a run-down flat on the outskirts of the city. He was with…that woman.”

  “His mistress? And her child?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why the façade?” Alina felt her mind reeling with confusion. “Why appear in the hospital and pretend he hadn’t been in town all this time?”

  “Because he has something to hide as regards his mistress,” Imogene said. “As I’ve been telling you. Mrs. Forrester has done some of her own research, and she told me she went to this address and asked after your husband’s name.”

  Alina took the scrap of paper and turned it over. “I don’t know this place.”

  “It’s a blacksmith’s shop at Gretna Green.”

  “Why ever—”

  “Just go to London. You can leave first thing tomorrow. And tell me what you find. I have my suspicions, but if I am right, Alina, it may well mean you have what you need to wrest your son from the arms of that monster.”

  Alina looked at the paper, her eyes brimming with gratitude. “I am so thankful for this, Imogene. I don’t deserve a second chance with my son, but I will take what I am given.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Imogene said adamantly, taking her friend’s hand and pressing it firmly. “If you keep talking that way, you’ll stay mired in old patterns of grief and shame. You must recognize that you’re the best thing for Jinx. You have to act as though you deserve him, and do everything it takes to win him back.”

  Alina nodded silently, her heart filling with a strange, strong rhythm of courage.

  Imogene went on. “And you have to act as though you deserve Theodore, too.”

  Alina swallowed. “I have not heard from him.”

  Imogene kept talking as though she hadn’t heard Alina’s protest. “You are wasting your life on the wrong man, tied down to your own guilt and confusion. Perhaps this whole awful experience is actually a blessing—the powers that be are giving you a better choice than a life tethered to Jonas’ memory.”

  Alina looked at her friend with new eyes. “Thank you. I am afraid, but I want to do this, and I want to do it right. You can call a carriage for tomorrow, and I will send a note ahead to Mrs. Forrester to tell her I will be staying with her in London. I want to be in close proximity to”—she hardly dared say the words— “my precious son.”

  Imogene smiled, clearly resisting the urge to revel in her small victory, and set about the preparations at once. Alina watched it all with a nervous heart. She looked at the scrap of paper in her fist and thought of Jinx.

  Chapter 29

  The carriage ride to London the next morning was long and quiet. Imogene had agreed at the last minute to accompany Alina, but the two women were consumed by their own thoughts, both soberly inclined, and shared little conversation along the way.

  At first, Alina had asked her friend whether a trip to Gretna Green to verify the facts personally might not be the wisest option, but Gretna Green was a full two-day’s journey away, and in the end Imogene convinced Alina that verification of Mrs. Forrester’s findings would be easy enough if the information was good.

  “I truly cannot imagine how anything she might have to say would change our situation,” Alina said. “But if there’s any chance to redeem my son from Jonas’ grasp, I will take it.”

  “I’m glad to hear you’ve some strength in you yet,” Imogene replied. “That man is a poison on your life. You used to be so full of energy, but after you married him you were drained, somehow, of all that. You seemed to pull yourself from day to day until Jinx came along.”

  “Yes,” Alina agreed softly, thinking of her son’s sweet face. “Jinx was the antidote.”

  “Perhaps in part,” Imogene confirmed with a queer note in her voice, “but he’s not the only antidote. Have you thought about reaching back out to—”

  “Not today,” Alina cut in. “Don’t mention Mr. Pendleton today. I need to be strong, and thoughts of him make me weak.”

  “Weak, or lovesick?”

  “Like I said,” Alina said, more firmly this time, “not today.”

  They pulled up to the flat in uptown London at midday, and Imogene helped her friend inside while the footmen took the luggage.

  Mrs. Forrester was a sweet, simple woman who looked rather short and soft around the middle. She had small eyes set against pillowy cheeks and a wide, endearing smile. “You must be Mrs. Hartley. I’ve, of course, heard your name mentioned in my circles but have never had the chance to meet you in person. You don’t like social outings much, do you?”

  Alina opened her mouth to respond, but Imogene answered for her with a wry smile. “As you well know, Mrs. Forrester, Alina would be more than happy to make her mark on society, if it weren’t for a certain somebody holding her back.”

  Alina blushed with embarrassment, but Mrs. Forrester laid her hand on the girl’s arm and her eyes flashed with a secret knowing. “Ah, well. You don’t have anything holding you back now, do you? Come inside. We shall have some tea and get down to business.”

  Alina was taken aback by the woman’s forward manner. She expected such things from Imogene after a lifetime of friendship, but the woman in front of her looked so soft and gentle to the outward eye.

  They settled inside by the fire, and Mrs. Forrester wasted no time in pulling out a small book with loose paper inside. “I gathered these when I was visiting my cousin in Gretna Green last fortnight. Your friend, Mrs. Fairfax, told me of your predicament and I was given a written copy of the information I found there.”

  Alina opened the book, her nerves running high. Inside the pages of the journal were two printed sheets. She recognized Jonas’ name at once, and then read to the bottom of the page. She should have guessed, after all. Gr
etna Green was well-known for providing a safe haven for couples who wished to be secretly married. What she couldn’t believe was the name and date on the document.

  “He was already married to Isadore?” she said, disbelieving. “He was married when he married me?”

  There it was, scribbled on the page before her in undeniable ink. All this time, she had looked at Isadore as the woman who came after her, but there it was as clear as day. And, of course—how could she have doubted it? Isadore’s child was at least as old as Jinx, perhaps older, and Jonas was not above marrying her for her wealth and prestige while holding Isadore in the shadows. It was horrifying.

  She dropped the papers back into her lap. “He’s a bigamist.”

  Mrs. Forrester nodded sagely. “Aye, that he is. They married at the blacksmith’s shop in Gretna Green before he ever married you, but they kept it a secret. Heaven knows what he told that poor woman, but he kept her quiet enough to marry you and earn himself a proper place in society. No doubt he promised to give her son some of the inheritance.”

  “We all knew she was a woman he kept on the side,” Imogene put in, her tone hushed, “but none of us understood how she had been wronged as well as you. She should have come forward and told people, but instead she continued to entertain his attentions in secret.”

  “She might have been frightened,” Alina said compassionately. “Jonas can be a force to be reckoned with. I have kept quiet for most of my life just trying to avoid his anger.”

  Imogene looked down at her hands. “You are gracious. To imagine, though, what she’s put you through. Showing up at Jonas’ funeral, for instance—”

  “I thought her impertinent to wear the widow’s weeds,” Alina admitted, “but now I see that she had as much of a right as I to be standing over his grave in that garb. She must have resented me more than I even resented her, for she knew the truth of her situation and I did not.”

  “Her child, too, must have known the truth. I feel for the boy,” Mrs. Forrester added.

  “This is horrible,” Alina breathed, “more horrible than I could have imagined.”

  “Is it?” Imogene looked at the two women with a raised eyebrow. “No, don’t scold me. Isn’t this just what we’ve been waiting for—an opportunity to push back against Jonas’ cruelty without retribution? If he threatens you and tries to take Jinx back, you can simply expose his bigamy. That is against the law, and will hold up in court much better than that sham of a letter he calls evidence.”

  The realization dawned on Alina like a sunrise peeking over the horizon. “It’s true,” she said. “He has no hold on me now.”

  She stood up, the loose pages of the document tumbling from her lap to the floor below.

  “I have to go.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Imogene.

  “I’m going to get my son.”

  Chapter 30

  Alina climbed the steps to her own home with her heart lodged sickeningly in her throat. This mansion, Marshall Gardens, that had been under her care and management not so long ago now seemed a foreign place, far removed from anything she could have called welcoming or safe.

  She knocked on the door, and Georges opened. His eyes widened. “My lady.”

  He didn’t move out of the opening at first, and Alina knew that Jonas would have given him some manner of command regarding her possible return. She could just hear him now, waving his finger in Georges’ face and demanding the butler bar the mother of his child from her own home. She looked Georges directly in the eye.

  “Is Jonas home?”

  “Mr. Hartley is out on business.” He still did not move.

  “Please, Georges. I know you are loyal to your master, but Jinx is your master as well as Jonas. You know in your heart that what Jonas is doing is wrong for that boy.”

  A shadow of sadness crossed the butler’s face. Alina wondered what he had seen in the time since she’d departed. Had Jinx been crying? A family can’t hide the dramas of the house from the servants—it was a known reality.

  She swallowed hard. “Georges.”

  “I know, my lady. But it isn’t just for Jinx that I allow you entrance.” He moved aside. “Jonas may be my master, as is Jinx, but you are mistress, as well. You always will be.”

  She nodded, wordless with gratitude, and made her way quickly past him, keeping her bonnet and gloves on for a quick departure. “Leave the carriage by the stairs,” she called over her shoulder, making her way up to Jinx’s room, but when she ducked inside he was gone.

  Alina took a suitcase from the side and began filling it quickly with Jinx’s belongings—his shoes, a few clothes, and the book he’d loved since he was a child. She was halfway through the frantic process when she sensed, rather than heard, the presence of someone else behind her. She turned, catching sight of Willa standing mute in the doorway. The maid was pale, and her hand swung loose by her sides. She jumped when Alina turned and went herself as though to flee, but Alina leapt to her feet and called out.

  “Stop. Willa, come back here.”

  The maid paused as though thinking about escape, but in the end some stronger emotion won out and she turned reluctantly to Alina. “My lady.”

  “I’m surprised you still call me that,” Alina commented, beckoning Willa further into the room. “After everything, I would have thought you no longer consider me your lady.”

  “Why would you have thought that?” Willa’s eyes were taking in the array of clothes piled on the floor and in the suitcase. Alina knew she had to act fast before the maid went for help. She lay her hand against the slip of paper in her pocket—her safety net. She’d written it on the way here, using the pauses at crossroads to scribble the note as neatly as possible.

  “A true ladies’ maid would never betray her lady,” Alina said slowly. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

  “I should really be going—”

  “A seat, Willa.”

  The maid sat. Her posture was stubborn and angry, but Alina saw real fear on her face. She settled herself across from the maid, continuing to gently fold Jinx’s clothing as she talked. “Is Jinx here?”

  “He’s outside, my lady. Playing in the garden. My Lord Hartley wouldn’t take well to you being back in the house.”

  “Allow me to worry about what Mr. Hartley thinks,” Alina said, realizing with a jolt of the joy that she wasn’t afraid of Jonas anymore. “I’m concerned primarily with you, Willa. I cannot control what you do or what Jonas does, but I can control whether or not I roll beneath it like the simpering, frightened woman you seem to think I am.”

  “My lady, I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do,” Alina persisted, unfettered. “But since you insist, I will spell it out for you as plainly as I am able. You took the letter that I gave you to send to Mr. Pendleton when I was staying in Brighton and you gave it to Matthew Hartley. You betrayed me for a few extra pounds, and you showed no remorse afterward.”

  Willa blanched, but said nothing.

  Alina continued, her face heating with anger at the memory. “Do you understand what you have done, foolish girl? That letter was harmless enough, but in Jonas Hartley’s grasp it was enough to end everything that I loved. You have seen all that has come of your betrayal in recent weeks. He drove me from his house because of you. Jinx’s accident happened as a result, and even now he holds me away from my son because of ‘evidence’ that you supplied his greedy brother. How could you?”

  Willa’s face was draining of all stubbornness, and she looked suddenly like a little girl, stricken. “I know, my lady. I saw it all happen, and it wasn’t what I intended. It’s just that…you were so unkind to me, and I thought I would serve you a lesson.” Her face hardened. “You spoke to me as though I was nothing. You sent me from your presence when I was only trying to comfort you—and Matthew Hartley, he was kind to me. He told me that I was important to his cause.”