Dread of The Earl (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

  She pulled in a breath and grabbed his arms. She wanted to tell him, but…

  His eyes flashed, and his hands tightened a fraction, enough to send her blood running wild. “Are you…? You and Mr. Goody…? Do you have some sort of…arrangement?”

  “No.” She squeezed his arms. “He’s never touched me.”

  “He better not.” The anger in those words made her shiver. Even in chains, Ganden was frightening.

  “You are mine.” he growled, shocking her further.

  She had no time to contemplate an answer, much less what he’d said. He yanked her body the last few feet that separated them and crushed his mouth to hers.

  Lucy’s body took over, rejoicing at the connection. She’d missed him, the feel of him, his touch. The kiss seemed to communicate all of what they felt. Desperation. Insanity.

  Her back hit the floorboards, and he prowled over her before taking her mouth again. She wrapped her arms around him. He was so large. Even with the weight he’d lost in captivity, he was a mighty man. And she wanted every bit of him.

  “Have you done this before?” he asked, dragging his lips down her jaw.

  If he meant what she thought he meant by ‘this’...

  “No.” she whispered.

  His head rose. “It has been some time since I’ve done this.”

  She smiled and touched his cheek. “I can only imagine.”

  His jaw hardened as he fisted his hands in her skirt. “We shouldn’t. You wished to share yourself with someone special.”

  She stroked her hand down his cheek. “You are someone special.” And then she added, “You’re special to me.” She might even love him, though she knew that was crazy.

  They’d not spoken in months, but that hadn’t kept him from her thoughts.

  “You want this?” His gaze told her he stood on the edge of madness. It was now or never.

  “I want you.” she whispered.

  His eyes warmed, and he took her mouth again.

  “Harlot!” someone shouted from the door. “Unhand that woman!”

  Lucy broke from the kiss and watched Mr. Goody rush Ganden. But at the impact, Ganden rolled and ended up on top of Mr. Goody.

  Lucy saw the fear in Mr. Goody’s eyes. The surprise and triumph in Ganden’s.

  This is it. All her anxiety, the future she’d dreaded for years, came to this.

  Ganden was going to kill Mr. Goody. She wanted that.

  But then, what would happen to George?

  She couldn’t lose George.

  Ganden’s hands went around Mr. Goody’s throat. Mr. Goody yelped and then began to struggle. He tried to tear into Ganden’s arms, but his kid gloves made it impossible.

  The muscles in Ganden’s arms flexed. He was taking his time, strangling Mr. Goody.

  “You deserve worse than this,” Ganden whispered “but this will do.”

  Mr. Goody’s eyes rounded and filled with tears. His face turned red then blue. The veins strained in his forehead.

  Lucy looked around the room. There was the wooden chair in the corner. The one she’d sat in all those months ago when she’d read the paper to Ganden.

  She moved to it and picked it up. “Ganden, let him go.”

  Ganden looked at her, looked at the chair, and then into her eyes. “You’re going to have to use it, my dear, because I’m not going to let him go.”

  Mr. Goody’s actions were becoming short jerks. He’d be dead in seconds.

  Lucy held Ganden’s eyes and then, at the last second, closed her own, lifted the chair, and brought it down upon him with all her force.

  The sound of his body meeting the floor panicked her. She knelt by him and flipped him over onto his back. His groan of pain was the sweetest thing she’d ever heard.

  Lucy touched his face. Her vision was hazy with tears. “I’m sorry.”

  Ganden couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’ll…kill you.”

  “Harlot.” Mr. Goody rasped, a hand at his throat. His face was still red. “Leave him. Let’s go.” He began to crawl from the room. “Must prepare.”

  It was time to leave already?

  Lucy turned back to Ganden. “I’m so sorry.” She gave Ganden one final kiss and then left the room.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  0 9

  * * *

  Two Years Later

  London

  June 1819

  “Mr. Goody didn’t allow Harlot in my room after that day.” Kent said to his four friends. “Neither did I see her at meals until the day you saved us.” he said to Denhallow.

  Denhallow frowned as he sat across from him in the sitting room. “So, you met, she earned your trust, and then she betrayed that trust when she hit you over the head with a chair?”

  Kent nodded. While he had remembered every detail of his time with the maid, he hadn’t shared any of it with the men. In short, he’d told them a two-year experience in ten minutes.

  “I was wondering what happened to the knife I slipped you.” Astlen said. All his work at gaining Mr. Goody’s trust had paid off. When the man had turned his back at the dining table, Astlen had grabbed his knife and slipped it to Kent under the table.

  They’d formed a plan to escape. Harlot was supposed to have come with them. Even though he hadn’t been speaking to her, he’d still cared for her. And she’d betrayed him.

  “What if she had no choice?” Fawley asked.

  “She had a choice. She chose wrong.” Kent ground out.

  “You’re angry with her.” Denhallow said.

  “Wouldn’t you be?” Kent asked. “I was chained in that house for two years.”

  Denhallow crossed his arms. “Very well. I’ll alert the authorities to her wrongdoing. She’ll likely die imprisoned.”

  “What?” Astlen asked in disbelief.

  Kent jumped forward and his friends only managed to snatch him back at the last minute. “Touch her and I’ll mutilate you.”

  Denhallow grinned. “Are you sure about that?”

  Kent saw red. “You better pray your wife is having a boy. You’ll not get another chance.”

  Fawley shook with laughter as he pulled Kent back. “Oh, this is funny.”

  “Laugh all you want.” Kent told him. “If anything happens to her…”

  “Her,” Denhallow said. “Would you like to know her name? Her real name?”

  Kent’s entire body stilled even though, now more than before, he wanted to kill Denhallow, because…he was jealous. Denhallow knew the name of the woman who’d been circling in Kent’s head for years. He didn’t want to hear her name on Denhallow’s lips, but…

  What choice did he have? He was tired of calling her Harlot, even though he’d begun to do so while angry.

  He closed his eyes. “What’s her name?”

  * * *

  Lucy shook with nearly every step. “This was a terrible idea.” As she came farther into the ballroom, she felt more and more out of place.

  She hadn’t been inside a ballroom since she was a young girl. Sixteen, she believed.

  Now, she was twenty-one. She was not surprised that the few guests she recognized did not recognize her. She was certain she looked different, more mature.

  Did her four years of captivity and hard work show in her face?

  “This was a wonderful idea.” her friend Miss Anna Graves said. “You received an invitation to an event few in London were invited to.” Her gray eyes shined with haughtiness and pleasure.

  Lord and Lady Denhallow had just secured their own residence in London and had opened their doors to a party of less than thirty guests. Lucy had read about it in the gossip rags. Many from the peerage hadn’t received invitations.

  Yet Lucy had.

  She remembered the Marquess of Denhallow. He’d been her redemption for what she’d done to Ganden. When Mr. Goody had taken her and the marquess to London, she’d been prepared to serve Mr. Goody’s guest as usual.

  But when Lucy had found Denhallow’s face severely da
maged at Mr. Goody’s hand, she’d been forced to come face to face with the line that asked how much she was willing to participate in.

  Lucy would not take part in something like that.

  So, she’d let Denhallow go and eventually, Denhallow had rescued the others and Mr. Goody had hanged. That had been two years ago.

  Was the invitation his way of thanking her for setting him free? If it was, she planned to tell him that she needed no thanks. Guilt ate at her every day for her lack of strength all those years ago.

  Hurting Ganden had broken something within her.

  She’d seen Denhallow three weeks ago during Lord Maltsby’s arrest.

  Lord Maltsby, who owned a bank, had more than sponsored the taking of the lords. He’d pointed them out to Mr. Goody, because he’d wanted to use their funds for his own gain.

  He’d known that few would miss them.

  Seeing George’s father being taken to prison had set Lucy free. She hadn’t waited for Lord Maltsby’s heir to arrive at the scene. Acting quickly, she’d taken George and they’d been living in relative peace for the last three weeks. George’s older brother hadn’t bothered to look for them yet.

  George was ten now. A little curious, but a good boy.

  Since arriving at the party, she’d seen none of the men from the house, and she prayed she didn’t. Perhaps after Lord Maltsby’s arrest, the group had disbanded. She could only hope that was so. She didn’t want to see Ganden, yet she owed an appearance to Denhallow.

  “It’s been years since you’ve done this.” Anna said. “I’m glad we had time to alter one of my old dresses for you.”

  Lucy looked down at the silk violet dress. Thanks to a very-talented modiste, it draped her smaller frame very well.

  “Come, let us get you acquainted with some of our old friends.” Anna said. “You’ve no reason to hide anymore.”

  That was true. Lucy had been hiding for the last two years, because Maltsby had remained in control of her. He’d made her little more than a servant while in London, and because of that, Lucy had avoided everyone but George and Anna.

  Anna was the only one who knew Lucy’s truth, the entire story, including everything about Ganden. She’d told her the tragic tale two years ago upon her return to London. Then, Anna had wanted to act, but Lucy had begged her not to. Their friendship had remained private. Not even George had been allowed to know about it, just in case Lord Maltsby tried to use it against her in some way.

  These thoughts played through her mind as she moved farther into the room.

  “Lady Lucy, you remember Lord Beaumont, don’t you?” Anna asked a few minutes later.

  She remembered Lord Beaumont, but he’d been Mr. Columbus Chase when last they were acquainted. His heirless cousin had died in a tragic fire a few years ago, giving him the title.

  “Would you like to dance?” the Earl of Beaumont asked. He was handsome with dark blond hair and blue eyes.

  She blushed. Though her own father had been an earl, Lucy felt great inferiority to the man before her. “I’ve not danced in many years.”

  He grinned down at her. “It is not something you forget, I’m sure.”

  Lucy held out her hand and he took it. A moment later, she realized he’d been right. Dancing came easy, though she was certain her partner had much to do with it. Beaumont was a wonderful dancer.

  “See?” he said. “I told you it was easy.”

  She laughed and stared into his eyes. They weren’t a perfect blue. Actually, there was a green depth to them as well.

  She thought of Ganden.

  And then something pricked at the back of her neck. Fear gripped her limbs. That feeling of apprehension that always warned of something coming took over her body.

  She stopped dancing.

  Beaumont frowned down at her. “Are you all right, my lady?” His hand moved to her hip. “Perhaps, I should get you a refreshment—”

  “Remove your hands from her or I’ll remove them for you.” a menacing voice said from behind her.

  All the air left Lucy’s lungs, and she spun around and met the eyes of the last person she wished to see.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  1 0

  * * *

  Lucy looked Ganden over and couldn’t believe how little he’d changed in two years.

  Dressed in a dark suit, he looked wonderful. While he’d looked rough and capable of anything while living with Mr. Goody, this man before her managed to look like the sweet promise of death in a way that tempted her to touch him.

  What was wrong with her? The man was violence given legs and a soul. She’d never been threatened more in her life than in his presence. She knew she was insane when her body responded with both fear and want, aching everywhere, telling her to run to him just as much as it readied itself to flee.

  His green eyes were trained on Beaumont.

  “My lord…” Beaumont tripped over his words. “I had no idea this dance was already promised to you.”

  Ganden’s hand closed over her arm. Her heart jumped. Even though he wore gloves, she knew exactly what the skin underneath felt like when he touched her.

  “Her every dance is promised to me.” Then without another word, he dragged her from the dance floor and out of the ballroom.

  Lucy took a breath. “I thought you wanted to dance.”

  Ganden stopped suddenly and gave her a look full of warning. “Two years. Two long years and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

  What did he wish to hear? That she’d missed him? She had. Now seeing him, she realized just how much she had and just how much that frightened her.

  “Hello?” she tried. “How have you been?” She found that she truly wanted to know.

  “Enough.”

  She pressed her lips together and said nothing more.

  He continued down a hallway and then up a flight of stairs.

  Would he kill her? “Where are you taking me?” she asked as the sound of voices faded.

  His gaze remained straight ahead. “Somewhere private.”

  “F-for what?”

  He scoffed and looked at her. “I’m not going to kill you.”

  “Oh. Good.” Her heart continued to race, perhaps because of the other possibilities.

  Bodily damage.

  Bodily pleasure.

  She was completely mad.

  He took her into a bedchamber. A lamp was lit. The open windows brought in the fragrance of the flowers that rested on its edge. The bed gained her attention next. Lucy couldn’t stop her mind from imagining everything that could take place on that bed.

  He turned her to him. “You will tell me everything. You will leave nothing out. If you do, you will regret it.” His eyes were hard as stone.

  She’d nearly missed his threats, had almost begun to take them as his own form of flattery. But then she remembered hitting him with a chair. He had to hate her.

  He moved away from her and took a seat. Lounging with his legs wide, he braced back and crossed his arms. Judgment Day had finally arrived for her. And what would happen once she was found guilty?

  Her culpability in his capture made it impossible for her to not give him an answer. He deserved that at least.

  She known from the beginning what could happen if she came to this party. She’d been surprised when the authorities had not arrested her upon entering the ballroom.

  She deserved whatever came next, not only because she’d hit Ganden over the head with a chair, but because…there was another secret she was being forced to hold onto.

  A secret she’d discovered about Ganden once she’d returned to Lord Maltsby two years ago. It was a secret she wasn’t even certain Ganden was aware of. But it explained so much of what he’d told her all those years ago, about why his father was so hard on him.

  But the men, the Lost Lords, didn’t know what she knew.

  Perhaps, Denhallow had forgiven her for what he did know about her. But could Ganden?

  “Why did you hit
me with a chair?” Ganden asked harshly. “Why didn’t you set me free?”

  She cleared her throat. “I want you to know that I wanted to free you. Every day was a struggle to constrain myself.”

  He didn’t move. He didn’t say a word. But his gaze narrowed. He didn’t believe her.

  She pressed her fingers to the base of her throat where her pulse ran wild. She wanted to look away but didn’t. He deserved her eyes for this. “If it had only been my life in the balance, I would have let you go, but I couldn’t.”

  Something flashed in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “My nephew, George. He was only six when we met. I’m all he has.”

  “What does he have to do with me?” Ganden asked.

  She was skipping parts. She needed to go back. “I didn’t work for Mr. Goody, really. I worked for Lord Maltsby. But if Mr. Goody became disappointed with me, he would tell Lord Maltsby, and Lord Maltsby would make George suffer.”

  “Lord Maltsby had your nephew?” Ganden asked.

  “George is his son.”

  Ganden shook his head. “Then the boy is not your responsibility—”

  “Yes, he is.” She didn’t know where the anger had come, but there it was, burning in her blood. “George is my sister’s son, and I would give my life to protect him. George is illegitimate. My sister…gave herself to Lord Maltsby with a love he never deserved, but now she is gone. George needs me.”

  Ganden leaned forward on his knees. “You have no legal claim to the boy.”

  Men.

  She wanted to throw something at him. “I love him. That is all the claim I need.” It was the only one that mattered. She’d spend the last two years in service to Lord Maltsby just so she could see George every day. She didn’t regret that choice either.

  Yet every day she waited for George’s brother to come and take him away. She prayed he wouldn’t, but if he did, what else could he do? Legally, Ganden was right. George was not hers to care for, but she would try.

  “And what would Lord Maltsby have done to his own boy?” Ganden asked.

  “Beat him until his skin broke. I’d seen him do it once, just go get me to obey.” And she hadn’t known Maltsby’s heir to be any kinder. He’d never stepped up to protect George all the boy’s life. “I wanted to help you, but I couldn’t.”