Destroyed & Restored - The Baron's Courageous Wife

by Wolf, Bree

  Her mother’s eyes widened at the veiled insult, and Adelaide cringed at the misery that came to her face. Shaking her head, she grasped her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry, Mother. I did not mean what I said. I only−”

  “You’re frightened,” her mother interrupted, her own hands curling around Adelaide’s. “I understand very well, my dear. There is no need to apologise. Believe me, if I could, I would give my life to spare you such a fate. If only it would do any good.”

  “I will not have you speak like that!” her grandmother snapped, her eyes narrowing in anger as she looked from Adelaide to her daughter-in-law. “Neither one of you! Do you hear me? Only weaklings lie down and wait for death. I will not have it. Do you hear?”

  Oddly enough, the strength in her grandmother’s voice lifted Adelaide’s spirits, and she nodded eagerly, desperate for the proffered sliver of hope on the horizon. Swallowing, Adelaide brushed away her tears. “But what can we do? How can we prevent this?”

  A sly smile came to her grandmother’s lips. “I shall speak to Lady Elton. If anyone can help, it is she. She has the intelligence as well as the daring spirit needed to think of a solution.” Squeezing Adelaide’s hand, her grandmother nodded to her. “Do not despair. We shall find a way out of the dark.” And then she was gone, hurrying back the path they had come, her steps sure-footed and confident.

  Adelaide once more inhaled a deep breath, her heart thudding rapidly as she thought of Lady Elton. Would she truly be able to think of a solution? In any case, Adelaide agreed with her grandmother. If anyone could help, it would be Lady Elton. After all, it had been she who had liberated Adelaide from Lord Arlton’s intentions a few months ago. With a few well-placed words, the young woman had discouraged the lecherous, old man from pursuing Adelaide further. Adelaide had been thunderstruck by her cunning mind.

  Drawn from her thoughts by her mother’s anguished sigh, Adelaide turned to look at the woman who had reared her. “You do not believe it possible, do you?” she asked, seeing the downcast eyes that refused to meet hers. “You do not think that Lady Elton will be able to help.”

  Sighing once more, her mother finally looked at her, the pity in her eyes saying more than a thousand words. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I do not believe that anyone can sway your father from the path he has chosen. I cannot imagine that there is anything Lady Elton can say that would change his mind.” Pulling her daughter’s hands into her own, Adelaide’s mother smiled at her. It was a weak and defeated little smile, and it broke Adelaide’s heart. “The best we can do is pray that the one who will win your hand is a good and kind man.”

  Returning her mother’s smile with a half-hearted one of her own, Adelaide nodded, knowing only too well that the fire her mother might have had in her once had been extinguished long ago. Was this her fate as well? Adelaide wondered, knowing equally well that she, too, had all but accepted her lot in life. The only difference between her and her mother was that here and there a spark of hope could still be found in Adelaide’s heart. How many more disappointments were needed before hope would never spark again?

  Turning away, Adelaide saw Tillie laying in the snow and moving her little arms and legs, making a snow angel. The sight brought fresh tears to her eyes, and she worried about what would happen to the girl if she were to marry. If she were to marry a man of her father’s choosing.

  Tillie’s happiness would be equally affected by such a development as her own, for Adelaide could not imagine that any man−let alone a man like her father! −would want his brother-in-law’s bastard child living in his house! The thought of losing Tillie who had been her ray of sunshine in her dreary life these past two years nearly choked the air from Adelaide’s lungs.

  Would this pain never end?

  Pray, her mother had said. Well, so far it had not done them any good, and so Adelaide decided to put all her faith in Lady Elton. After all, the woman had once moved a mountain. Perhaps she could do so again.

  Chapter Two – A Call for Aid

  After hastily finishing off his breakfast, Matthew rushed out of the house. His muscles were still sore from yesterday’s boxing practise, and so instead of calling for his carriage, he decided that a walk would do him good.

  Stretching his limbs, he marched at a brisk pace, feeling his muscles respond in a more favourable manner. He curled and uncurled his fingers, trying his best to shake off the stiffness that often clung to them after crossing fists−as he liked to call it−with an old acquaintance.

  Matthew had been boxing almost all his life as he had discovered early on that it helped him handle the frustration that came with competing for his father’s attention and approval. Since he had been met by failure at every attempt, the frustration he had initially felt had often threatened to turn into something far more dangerous.

  Only when Matthew had accompanied an old friend from his days at Eton to a boxing practise had he discovered the means to control at times raging emotions inside him. Today, even more than before, Matthew relied on the practise to guide him through the treacherous sea of disappointment and anger. Physically exhausting his body calmed his heart and soul, and at least for a time, he felt better.

  Felt less like lashing out at the world.

  Especially now that he knew the truth about what kind of man his father had been, Matthew knew he needed to keep his own anger at bay. Keep it controlled and locked away…lest he hurt someone.

  Who knew what he was capable of?

  The mere thought sent cold shivers down his back.

  As he climbed the steps to his cousin’s townhouse, Matthew wondered what could be so urgent that Tristan had sent a note so early in the morning. He could only hope that he and his wife were fine, and no tragedy had befallen them. Still, there had been something in the brusque tone of the missive that had hastened Matthew’s steps.

  He could not shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

  As he stepped over the threshold to Tristan’s study, Matthew found his cousin and his golden-haired wife standing by the tall arched window, their faces intent as they seemed to be discussing something of great importance.

  The moment they saw him, they strode forward, greeting him warmly. Still, their open acceptance of him never failed to leave a bitter aftertaste. He did not deserve their kindness. Not after what he had done. Not after what he had allowed his father to do.

  “It is good to see you, Cousin,” Tristan said, a large smile on his face as he clasped a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. Still, tension rested on his face that spoke to the dread Matthew felt curled up in his stomach.

  “Good morning, Tristan,” he said, returning the greeting. “Lady Elton.”

  His cousin’s wife rolled her deep blue eyes in a rather unladylike, and yet, becoming way. “Matthew, how often must I ask you to call me Beth? It’s slowly becoming a bit of a nuisance.”

  A faint smile tickled the corner of Matthew’s mouth, and he almost joined in Tristan’s amused laughter. Despite her straightforward manner−or perhaps because of it−Matthew had to admit that he had come to like his cousin’s wife. Admired her for her strong and steadfast character.

  If only he knew what her secret was. How had she become the strong person she was today?

  “You better listen,” Tristan advised with a sidelong glance at his wife. “She can become quite unpleasant when she does not get what she wants.”

  With arms akimbo, Lady Elton glared at her husband. Still, the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement before she stepped forward and slapped her husband’s arm good-naturedly. “Careful what you say, my dear,” she threatened, a teasing grin on her face. “Do not forget that I know all your secrets.”

  Tristan grinned back. “And I yours.”

  A smile claimed her face, and she laughed. “Indeed, that is true,” she admitted before turning questioning eyes to Matthew.

  “All right,” Matthew said, lifting his hands in surrender. “I admit defeat.” Once more, he inclined his head to
her in greeting. “Good morning, Beth.”

  “There,” she exclaimed, satisfaction ringing in her voice. “Was that so hard?”

  Smiling, Matthew shook his head. Despite his feelings of guilt, he could not deny that he enjoyed visiting with Tristan and Beth. They were genuinely kind and caring people, and their townhouse felt like a home, filled with laughter and teasing and shared memories. If only he could find a woman like Beth. A woman who would believe in him, who would stand by his side and help him defeat his own demons.

  The way Beth had done for Tristan.

  Without her, Matthew doubted that Tristan would have found the peace and happiness that sparkled in his eyes whenever he looked at his beloved wife.

  “May I ask why you called on me?” Matthew enquired, still feeling a bit on edge about what urgency might have occurred. “Your letter sounded a bit…odd. I hope nothing is wrong?”

  Instantly, their faces darkened, and Matthew felt his heart clench in his chest. What on earth had happened now? Had they all not suffered enough at the hands of his father?

  “Is there anything I can do?” Matthew asked further, observing the way Tristan and Beth exchanged glances as naturally as though they were speaking out loud.

  “Indeed, there is,” Tristan finally said, turning to meet his eyes. “We need your help.”

  Matthew nodded. “Anything,” he replied, feeling his chest swell with pride that his cousin would call on him in a time of need. He would do anything within his power to prove that he was trustworthy. That he was loyal. That he was not the man his father had been.

  Once more, Tristan exchanged a glance with his wife before Beth stepped forward, her blue eyes finding Matthew’s. “I have a dear friend,” she began, her voice tense and free of the humour he had heard there before. “Unfortunately, her father is a gambler and has been working continuously on ruining the family’s reputation. Their fortune is all but lost, and so we’ve heard it whispered that he has descended to a new low.” Beth swallowed, her hands tense as she wrung them nervously.

  Never had Matthew seen her so vulnerable. Clearly, this friend of hers meant a great deal to her.

  “What did he do?” Matthew prompted, glancing at Tristan, who stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his wife’s back.

  Squaring her shoulders, she raised her head, meeting his gaze, her own blazing with new determination. “Apparently, as he is lacking in funds, he has made it known that he intends to wager his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  Appalled, Matthew all but shrank back, reminded of his own father’s disregard for his family. “That is outrageous!” he hissed, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Who is the man?”

  Beth’s eyes darkened. “Lord Radcliff.”

  At her answer, the air was knocked from Matthew’s lungs as an image of a raven-haired beauty rose before his inner eye. Her delicate frame and downcast, almost fearful gaze had never failed to conjure his protective side whenever he had laid eyes on her. “Lady Adelaide,” he whispered, recalling the ghost of a smile he had here and there seen curl up her lips as though she did not dare allow it to break through.

  “You know her?” Tristan asked, and Matthew did not fail to detect the note of suspicion in his cousin’s tone.

  Matthew cleared his throat. “We’ve never been officially introduced,” he hastened to say. “However, I’ve…”

  “Noticed her?” Looking at him with frank perusal, Tristan grinned from ear to ear.

  “Don’t tease him,” Beth chided, elbowing her husband in the ribs. “Can you be serious for a moment?”

  Tristan narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m not teasing. I’m merely making an observation.”

  “One we can do without at present,” Beth concluded, a touch of finality in her voice before she turned back to meet Matthew’s reluctant gaze. “Yes, it is Lady Adelaide I was referring to. Are you willing to help us?”

  Nothing could stop him from doing so. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Since Lord Radcliff already knows me,” Tristan explained, the tone in his voice thankfully taking on a more serious note, “I would ask you to follow him. In secret. Keep your distance but keep your eyes on the man and find out if he will indeed offer his daughter’s hand.”

  Matthew nodded. “What if he does?” The mere thought twisted his insides painfully.

  With lips pressed into a hard line, Tristan held his gaze. “Quite frankly, we don’t know yet. But should he lose his daughter’s hand, then find out who that man is and report back immediately. Can you do that?”

  “Of course,” Matthew assured him, pleased when Tristan nodded in acknowledgement, the look in his eyes free of doubt. “Should we not attempt to prevent him from losing his daughter’s hand?” Matthew asked, hoping his question would not offend his cousin.

  Tristan sighed. “If you have an idea, let us hear it,” he replied, a hint of frustration in his eyes. “However, we doubt that Lord Radcliff can be easily persuaded. By now, his daughter’s hand and the dowry given to her by her grandfather−funds he cannot touch−are his only bargaining chip. He will not give them up lightly. Only if he sees the promise of a reward.”

  Matthew nodded, repulsed by the greed some men placed above their own blood. “What if she were to marry?” The question had left his lips before his mind had even fully registered it.

  The hint of a teasing smile played on Tristan’s lips. “Without a large incentive, he will most likely not accept any suitor we may present. Let us think on it.” He glanced at his wife as she stepped closer and another meaningful look passed between them. “However, we must know what happens in the meantime.”

  “I shall keep you informed,” Matthew promised solemnly, hoping against hope that it would not come to it. In his experience, men who lost all connection to reality, men who were consumed by something or other rarely took a step back to rethink what they were doing. Such a circumspect act was no longer within their capabilities. He could only hope that the one who would win Lady Adelaide’s hand was a decent man…however slim the chances were.

  Still, Matthew could not deny that the thought of her tied to any man−decent or not−was upsetting to him. Swallowing, he took his leave, wondering about the raven-haired lady who haunted his dreams whenever his father did not.

  Chapter Three – A Dark Moment

  A sennight later, Matthew found himself standing in the back of a crowded room in one of London’s most notorious gaming hells.

  Over the past week, he had followed Lord Radcliff all over town, watching as the man lost more and more of his remaining fortune. Here and there, he had had a lucky hand. However, his streak−if one could call it that! −had never lasted long, and by now, he was running out of funds.

  Smoke hung in the darkened room, stinging Matthew’s eyes, and he tried his best to inhale only shallow breaths. Still, he watched with hawk eyes as the earl continued on his downward spiral.

  Sweat clung to the man’s temples, and he kept wiping his arm across his forehead nervously. All the money he had won earlier that night was gone, and Matthew knew that he was close to playing the last card he had: his daughter’s hand in marriage.

  With crazed eyes, the earl stared down at his cards, reminding Matthew of his own father and the morning he had finally shown his true face. The shock still clung to Matthew’s bones, and he wondered if he would ever be able to make his peace with what had happened. Still, this, here and now, was not about him.

  This was about Lady Adelaide, an innocent young woman who was about to be bartered off to the highest bidder.

  Matthew felt sick.

  His hands began to sweat when the other men began taunting the earl, laughing at him for his misfortune that night, his lack of funds, his hesitation at playing the next card. In turn, the earl’s face turned a darker shade of red, and Matthew could see the crazed look in his eyes intensifying. Reason−or what might have been left of it−flew out the window, and in that moment, all the earl was capa
ble of caring about was to win.

  At all cost.

  No matter what.

  Damn the consequences.

  Before the earl’s voice even rose above the cacophony of voices surrounding him, Matthew knew what would happen. Unable not to, Lord Radcliff would up the game and offer the only thing left to him that still possessed value in order to save face. “My daughter’s hand in marriage,” he boomed as though announcing certain victory, “as well as the vast dowry her grandfather bestowed upon her.”

  Silence fell over the room as men stared at him, their disbelief apparent in the way their eyes nearly crawled out of their sockets. Although they had all heard the earl boast of his intentions of wagering his daughter’s hand, none seemed to have taken his words at face value.

  Then laughter soared high as men slapped each other on the back, their eyes eager as they turned them back to their cards. Even those not in the game stepped closer, their attention captivated as the final round played out. Lewd comments were passed back and forth about the lady, which had Matthew’s hands curl into fists once more. It took all his willpower not to strike men down left and right while Lord Radcliff seemed oblivious to the words aimed at his daughter, his gaze fixed on the cards in his hands.

  Loss or gain had never been more closely tied to a single moment.

  Holding his breath, Matthew watched everything unfold. His gaze shifted from the earl to the other players, one of which would win Lady Adelaide’s hand−he was certain of it. He was equally certain that none of these men deserved to call her his wife, and he hoped with fervent intensity that Tristan had come up with a good plan to circumvent the earl’s blatant disregard for his daughter’s happiness.