by Lauren Smith
“When I said I wanted to search the entire castle, I meant the entire castle, including this room. My men can take care of the castle. I will take care of this room myself.” He looked around the shabby, sparsely decorated chamber with a sneer. “Lady Amelia deserves better than this.”
“And I intend to give it to her,” Adam said. “Now leave my affianced wife’s room.”
“There is nothing to find in here,” Martha said with just enough subservience in her voice to placate his lordship. “No highwayman has come in here, nor any place else in the castle.”
“Shut up, old woman. We shall see.” Wisely walking around Adam, whose fists were clenched into hard knots, Waite strode to the bed and – suddenly dropping to his knees – pulled aside the bed skirt and peered underneath.
Adam kept his face still though he thought his heart might stop. Martha remained calm. Where, he wondered, had she hidden the bloody clothes and such?
“Wake her up. She must know something.” Leaning heavily on the bed, Waite pulled himself upright.
“Stop! You will disturb her,” Adam snapped even as Martha spoke.
“I gave her laudanum, your lordship. It is the only thing that will calm her headaches.”
Waite glared. “You will be the first thing to go once her ladyship and I are married.”
Adam could take no more. In two quick steps he was beside Waite and with a single movement had planted him a facer so strong it sent the hapless lord sprawling into a heap on the floor. “Get out of here. Now.”
Waite sat up slowly, dragging a careful hand over the blood seeping from his mouth, then stared with distaste at his stained fingers. He spoke softly and with venom. “You will regret that, stable boy! Servants who strike their betters suffer consequences. Do not think I shall not report this to the Chief Constable. I met him at the Azzizes two years ago, so he knows me.”
Bending over, Adam yanked his lordship to his feet, then with more strength than he had ever known propelled him out the door to the head of the grand staircase. “Then you had best tell him about this, too…” With a flick of his wrists he dropped Waite to the floor, halfway over the first step, the released him to struggle for balance.
His arms flailing, Waite rolled down half a dozen steps before he could stop. His mouth agape, the Earl stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking upward in dismay. Neither Waite nor Adam noticed; hatred as palpable as a harsh wind flowed from his lordship.
Adam looked down at him with a sense of triumph. “Now recall your men and leave before I give you the beating you deserve. Oh, and give the Chief Constable my regards. He belongs to the same club as my father and I. We’ve shared many a brandy together.”
Without giving the ungracefully sprawled nobleman another glance, Adam turned and walked back into his betrothed’s room. Again kneeling by Lady Amelia’s bed, he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.
“Rest well and heal, my darling Leah. Soon…”
Lazily her eyes, warm and blue as a summer sky, opened and regarded him with amused affection. “But not, I fear, soon enough.”
“But…”
“I did not give her the laudanum, Mr. Ferrour,” Martha apologized, hanging her head. “Her ladyship refused to take it.”
“But why? Are you not in pain?”
Leah gave a crooked little smile. “Yes, but I thought I might be needed.”
“So you were ready to leap from bed and attack Lord Waite and his henchmen?”
“If needed. In truth, it is something I have dreamed of doing for some time.”
Adam gave a shout of laughter. “Oh, my beloved Amazon! Trust me, you will never have to worry about him or anyone else again. I intent to spend my life keeping you safe and protected and your life easy.”
Martha was approaching the bed, a small glass in her hand. “That’s all well and good, Mr. Ferrour, but now it is time for her ladyship to sleep.”
Adam planted another, longer kiss on Lady Amelia’s hand. “Then good night, my dearest one. I love you. Dream of me.”
“I have been since the first time I saw you,” Leah said, then made a face as Martha made her drink the sedative. “Good night, Adam. I love you.” She only murmured the last words, but to Adam Ferrour, late playboy and social idler, soon to be a loving and devoted husband, it was as if the angels had sung in heavenly chorus.
Chapter 14
The wedding of Lady Amelia, daughter of the Earl of Radston, and Adam Ferrour, son of the wealthy businessman Sir Emmanuel Ferrour, was without doubt one of the most highly regarded social events seen in Town for quite a while. Held at St. George’s, Hanover Square, the ceremony drew in every one of note in Town and not a few who came in from the country just for the occasion.
The bride was lovely in a dress made of Chantilly lace; it was generally agreed that the young couple looked like something from a fairy tale and, to some people’s uncomplimentary surprise, appeared to be very much in love. There had been a round of parties before the wedding, when the foremost hostesses in Town had vied for the honor of fêting the couple, and a fortunate few who had managed to schedule gatherings in those very few days between the wedding and the couple’s departing on their Grand Tour wedding trip counted themselves as blessed.
The wedding breakfast was held in the ballroom of the house in Grosvenor Square which had been Sir Emmanuel’s wedding gift to his son and his bride. New and opulent enough to please a prince, it had indeed pleased the Prince Regent, who had graciously deigned to attend both the ceremony and the wedding breakfast, much to the joy of Sir Emmanuel.
Even the Earl was happy; to everyone’s relief he had not been allowed to run riot amongst the clubs on St. James Street, but thanks to Sir Emmanuel’s scheming he was just as pleased. Two titled gentlemen with their pockets to let and close to bankruptcy had been hired to play cards with the Earl, both in London and at Sir Emmanuel’s country estate, where they would lodge while Clereston Castle was being repaired. They – and several rather large guards, disguised as servants – would also insure that His Lordship never be allowed to enter any club or gaming establishment. Presumably, they – or others in the same situation – would take up residence at Clereston once the restoration was complete. The impecunious gentlemen had been carefully instructed to lose gracefully without ever making mention of the Earl’s cheating, to keep the stakes incredibly low and to play for as long and as often as his lordship wished. Adam had had the feeling these gentlemen did not know what they were letting themselves in for, but even if one bolted there were sadly always a new crop of men on their uppers.
The insufferable Lord Waite had retreated to his estate and, thanks to words dropped into several very important ears by Sir Emmanuel, was unlikely to leave it again, at least for anyplace the Ferrours or the Earl might be. Martha had refused a cottage of her own, declaring she would look after her ladyship as long as there was breath in her body. Adam had responded with a stylish suite of her very own in the upper reaches of their new house and a semi-familial status, but only after she had told him where she had hidden the bloody garments so quickly that dramatic evening – under the mattress of Lady Amelia’s bed. John Coachman had been offered a similar situation, which he immediately declined, visibly delighted to return to his horses and to be away from the unpredictable antics of the Quality.
When at last the wedding breakfast was over, the last guests sent on their way, and even the Earl and Sir Emmanuel departed in a rare and fragile amity, Adam extended his arm to his bride and escorted her down the grand staircase to the magnificence of their bedroom.
“I am so glad to see everyone go,” Adam said, patting her hand.
“But the house is full of servants, like a village in itself.”
“They will stay out of the way. We are newly wed, remember.”
“Martha will be waiting for me. To remove this.” Lady Amelia lifted the priceless lace overskirt of her wedding dress.
“Martha will take her time,” Adam said
with the surety of one who has already arranged something. “And I can help you remove that.”
Lady Amelia smiled. “So you are now a lady’s maid, my husband?”
“As long as you are the lady involved.”
Lady Amelia took a deep breath then murmured softly, “I have never seen a house like this.” Her gaze taking in the lush oriental rugs, the crystal, the furniture, the paintings and decorated walls. “How generous of your father to give it to us.”
“Oh, I think it was as much selfishness as generosity,” Adam said, then chuckled.
“You must be wrong! How could giving a gift as magnificent as this be considered selfish?”
“We, my sweet innocent, have the pleasure of living here, but he has the reputation of having created such a marvel and then giving it away.” Adam opened the door to their chamber, then shut it firmly behind them. “Why do you think he insisted on holding our wedding breakfast upstairs in the ballroom? I am sure he will enjoy the repute he has garnered for giving such a gift more than he would ever enjoy living here himself.”
“You may be right,” said Lady Amelia, drawing careful fingers over the impressively embroidered spread covering the impressively canopied bed. “But no matter what, that means we can never give him anything to equal this.”
“Oh, I do not credit that for an instant.” Adam drew her into his arms and held her close, nuzzling the sweet curve of her neck. “We can give him a grandson.”
They both smiled with gleeful anticipation.
About the Author
Janis Susan May is a seventh-generation Texan and a third-generation wordsmith who writes mysteries as Janis Patterson, romances and other things as Janis Susan May, children’s books as Janis Susan Patterson and scholarly works as J.S.M. Patterson.
Formerly an actress and singer, a talent agent and Supervisor of Accessioning for a bio-genetic DNA testing lab, Janis has also been a jewelry designer and editor-in-chief of two multi-magazine publishing groups. She founded and was the original editor of The Newsletter of the North Texas Chapter of the American Research Center in Egypt, which for the nine years of her reign was the international organization’s only monthly publication. Long interested in Egyptology, she was one of the founders of the North Texas chapter and was the closing speaker for the ARCE International Conference in Boston in 2005.
Janis married for the first time when most of her contemporaries were becoming grandmothers. Her husband, a handsome Navy Captain several years younger than she, even proposed in a moonlit garden in Egypt. Janis and her husband live in Texas with an assortment of rescued furbabies.
www.JanisSusanMayAuthor.com
www.JanisPattersonMysteries.com
Disturbing Desire
Leona Bushman
Acknowledgments
Thank you Victoria Miller for my cover. To my friends helping me recover from the last few years with things which are not seen but only felt.
To My Muse…
Author’s Note
There are characters from the Darkest Valentine series in this book. You do not need to have read the series to understand this story, but it would enrich it.
Chapter 1
Colleen Harrington’s gold metal framed spectacles rested at the end of her nose. She absently pushed them up to get a closer look at the manuscript she poured over. The maid brought in the tea tray with her favorite biscuits and the Earl Grey she preferred. She took a bite of the sweet treat, the buttery taste coating her mouth. She mmmm’d in pleasure.
“My dearest Sue, you are a gem of the first water. Please convey my gratitude to Gretchen in the kitchen as well. You two have spoiled me so since my parents died.” She had expected it to end after a few weeks, but it had not. Under the circumstances, she could not have been happier.
“Of course, my lady. You were the sweetest child whenever your mother brought you around for your visits. I am pleased that you are happy here.”
Colleen’s tears welled up. Though a year had passed since her parents had been killed at sea, she still missed them fiercely. “Aunt Julie has been most gracious in taking me in.”
“I am glad to hear you think so, child.”
“Aunt Julie!” Colleen cried as she stood up and found herself enveloped into a quick hug before her aunt stood back and began meticulously pulling off her gloves, pulling each finger loose before peeling the fine, kid leather off.
“Of course I do. Without you, I would have been forced to live with Aunt Gertrude from Father’s side.” An involuntary shudder pushed through her at the mere thought. “You know how old fashioned and stuck in the good old days that she is.” Aunt Gertrude was easily sixty years old, though it seemed to Collen that Aunt Gertrude had been old all her life. No one seemed to know her real age. Colleen’s father, the youngest of ten, had inherited the title. The other two siblings who made it to adulthood had died while Colleen had still been in short dresses. And, for as long as she could remember, Aunt Gertrude had helped him run the estates, making Colleen miserable whenever Mother and Father had left. “Or my brother…I would have been driven insane inside a week.”
“As your guardian, I suppose it is my duty to say to respect your elders, but I know you are right. Aunt Gertrude is a throwback to another time and place. One we have evolved past. I remember when your father met my dearest sister. Ava had loved him despite all reason otherwise. He was the youngest sibling, born late to his parents, the only male, and spoiled beyond anything I have ever seen.”
“Aunt Julie! You never said!” Colleen listened avidly, excited to hear from someone else what Father had been like before he married her mother.
“Your mother had a way about her, though. Not just with your father. She could make the most embittered battle axe soften and smile. She was just naturally good. The best of us.”
Colleen heard the tears in her aunt’s voice and waited patiently. As if by mutual, if unspoken, agreement, they rarely spoke of her parents’ death. She did not want to do anything which might stop the flow of reminiscing.
“Mary was like…sunshine on a spring day. She could chase away the clouds when needed, or allow the rain to fall. She always just seemed to know. Our dowries were all large from father’s wealth. Merchant class, though. And newly arisen. Things are loosening up a bit, but when our father struck it rich on a sudden good investment, all of us girls were suddenly wanted by poor, titled lords. Your mother wouldn’t give them the time of day, though, not until your father.”
“Why him? What did he do?” Her aunt’s way of telling the story was so much more enlightening than anything her mother had said.
“He came into Father’s shop… I do believe he was there to buy fabric for dresses to be made for a mistress. Father and him had started talking of fabrics when Mary came out of the backroom, asking to go on a picnic with all of us. Your father stopped mid sentence. Robert literally could not speak for a full two minutes. Mary did not notice at first, but then Robert said his first words since her arrival, and she turned to him.”
“Father? Speechless?” Colleen had never known him to be so. He always seemed to know exactly what to say in every situation.
Aunt Julie laughed. “Yes. I know now how impossible that is to believe, but I swear it, that for five whole minutes while Mary and Eva cajoled our father for permission, Robert stood there as if turned to stone. As I was helping father in the shop, I watched with avid interest.”
“What did he say when he finally spoke?”
“Marry me.”
Collen laughed delightedly. “I am gobsmacked. Father actually asked her to marry him?”
“He turned bright red and mumbled something and ran out of the shop, without making his purchases. He came back the next day, same time, and this time, Mary was helping in the shop, though she rarely did so if she could get away with it. She much preferred the outdoors, and once Father made his money, he bought an estate with stables. She purchased horses for him. He indulged her, but turned out she had a goo
d eye for them, and he soon was making money from breeding horses as well.”
Colleen knew that part. Mother had passed that knowledge on to all of her children. “I love horses. I am glad Richard allowed me to keep mine as well as a stallion for breeding.”
“Your brother is better than most, I dare say. But to continue, your father waltzed in, pretending he had never said a word before. He asked for help in selecting an appropriate fabric to make a proper dress for an engagement party. He asked Father, but never took his eyes off Mary. She simpered and blushed, something she had never done before. Then told him, ‘If you want an answer to your question yesterday, you must take me for a ride in your carriage.’ Our father was mortified. He apologized profusely, and I had to stifle a laugh.”
Tears dropped slowly from Colleen’s eyes, loving the story. “Did he do it?”
“Well, yes. In fact, he took her for a ride every day for a week. At the end of that week, they were engaged. Robert never did ask what her dowry was either.”
“You mean…” Colleen tilted her head as she thought of the implications. “Father fell in love at first sight,” she exclaimed. “He always denied it when Mother teased him.”
“Of course he did. It was—and still isn’t—the posh thing to do for a lord of the ton, especially not with a merchant’s daughter. Though we have ancestors who were nobility, as second sons, the branches sort of faded out in history’s annuls. But, he did. As did Mary. She said, she did not even register his words at first. Said his voice cut through all her prejudices, filled her with a sense of purpose, as if she finally woke up after being asleep all her life. Then his words… It actually relieved her mind to find him as discombobulated as she in each other’s presence.”