скачать книгу бесплатно
‘That lying blackguard,’ Hannah blurted out, then clamped her hand over her mouth. Insults wouldn’t help her cause.
Horrified, she met her father’s infuriated expression, hoping he wouldn’t believe the lies. Surely he would trust her, after all the years she’d been an obedient daughter. One mistake wouldn’t eradicate everything, would it?
Thoughts of the Lieutenant’s forbidden kiss flayed her conscience. She could have fought him off, but instead, she’d kissed him back. It had been curiosity and shock, mingled together with the first stirrings of desire. She’d wanted to know what a real kiss would be like. But not at this terrible cost.
‘Harrison, take my daughter home,’ the Marquess commanded to his footman. ‘I will accompany Lieutenant Thorpe in this carriage.’
The Lieutenant gave an abrupt nod, and Hannah tried to fathom the man’s thoughts. His hazel eyes were shielded, his face expressionless.
She prayed that they could undo the mistake that had been made. Surely they could keep matters quiet. She’d been a victim and didn’t deserve to be punished like this. If anyone deserved to be drawn and quartered, it was Lord Belgrave.
As the footman closed the carriage door, Hannah twisted her hands together. Thank goodness the Lieutenant possessed no title. Were he an earl or a viscount, no doubt her father would demand that he marry her.
As a common officer in the British Army, that would never happen. She should feel relieved, but her nerves wound tighter. Her father was so angry right now, he might do something rash.
And she didn’t know what that might be.
‘You should know that the only thing that prevents me from killing you where you stand is the fact that I don’t want your blood staining my carpet.’ The Marquess of Rothburne pointed to a wingback chair in his study. ‘Sit.’
‘I am not your dog,’ Michael responded. He was well aware that he was only tossing oil upon the fire of James Chesterfield’s rage, but he refused to behave as if he’d seduced Lady Hannah.
Kissed her, yes. But that wasn’t a crime.
Michael rested his forearms upon the back of the chair and met the Marquess’s gaze squarely. ‘I don’t regret rescuing Lady Hannah from the Baron of Belgrave. You know as well as I that the man isn’t worthy of her.’
‘And neither are you.’
‘You’re right.’ There was no reason to take offence at the truth. He possessed enough to live comfortably on his army salary, but it wasn’t enough to support a Marquess’s daughter. He didn’t want a wife, or any family who would rely upon him.
‘Because of you, her reputation is destroyed.’
‘No.’ Michael drew closer to the desk, resting his hands upon the carved wood. ‘Because of Belgrave. Were it not for him, she’d never have been taken from Rothburne House.’
‘You should have brought her home immediately!’ The Marquess’s face was purple with wrath.
He knew it. But she’d been in such pain, he hadn’t wanted to make it worse. At the time, he’d thought it would only be for a short while—not hours. Perhaps he should have driven her home, despite the agony she would have endured. Still, it did no good to dwell upon events he couldn’t change.
‘She’s had headaches like that one before, hasn’t she?’ Michael said softly. ‘She told me she keeps laudanum in her reticule.’
‘That is beside the point.’
‘Is it? I presume you’ve seen how much she suffers? That any form of light or sound gives her pain beyond all understanding? I’ve seen men take a bullet through their shoulder and suffer less than what I saw her endure.’
He didn’t add that there were moments when he’d wondered if she was going to die. She’d been so pale, in such agony.
‘Even if what you say is true, it doesn’t change the fact that you stayed with her alone for hours.’ James reached out for a letter opener, running his finger along the edge. ‘She is my only daughter. My youngest child.’
‘This wasn’t her fault.’ Yet, Michael didn’t see a clear solution. It wasn’t fair for Hannah to endure the sly gossip of the society matrons, nor to be shunned if word got out.
‘No, it’s yours.’ The Marquess folded his arms, adding, ‘Don’t think that I would allow a man like you to wed her. You won’t touch a penny of her inheritance.’
Michael stepped back, his anger barely controlled. Keeping his voice steady, he said, ‘I don’t want anything from either of you. She was in trouble, and I went to help her. Nothing more.’
The Marquess set his pen down. ‘I want you to leave England. I don’t want her to ever set eyes upon you again.’ Picking up his pen, he began writing. ‘I am going to ask your commanding officer to see to it. I’ll contribute enough funds to the Army to make sure you stay far away from London.’
Michael didn’t doubt that the Marquess’s money would accomplish anything the man wanted. ‘And what will happen to Lady Hannah?’
The Marquess set down his pen. ‘Belgrave has offered to wed her.’
‘No. Not him.’ Michael clenched his fist. ‘You would offer her up to a man like that?’
‘There is nothing wrong with Belgrave. He’s going to keep Hannah’s reputation safe.’
‘You mean he’s going to reveal the scandal to everyone if she doesn’t wed him,’ Michael guessed.
The Marquess didn’t deny it. ‘I won’t let my daughter be hurt. Not if I can prevent it from happening.’
Hannah had seen her mother cry before, but never like this. Usually Christine Chesterfield used her tears to dramatic effect, whenever her husband wouldn’t let her opinion sway him.
This time, Christine simply covered her mouth with her hand while the tears ran down her cheeks. Hannah sat across from her, while two cups of tea went cold. The grandfather clock in the parlour chimed eight o’clock. Eight hours was all it had taken to change her life completely.
‘I promise you, Mother, I am fine,’ Hannah murmured. ‘Neither of them compromised me.’ She refused to cry, for the shock was still with her. ‘I don’t know what else to say, when you won’t accept the truth.’
‘This isn’t about truth.’ Christine dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘It’s about appearances.’
‘It will be all right,’ Hannah insisted. ‘My friends will believe me, if they hear rumours. They know I would never do anything of that nature.’ She stood up, pacing across the carpet. ‘I don’t see why we cannot simply tell everyone what happened.’
Christine blew her nose. ‘You are far too naïve, my dear. We can’t risk any of this scandal leaking to anyone.’
‘I am not ruined.’
‘You are. Your only hope of salvaging what’s left of your honour is to marry Lord Belgrave and to do so quickly.’
‘I will not marry that horrid man. He’s the reason all of this happened!’ Hannah arranged her skirts, tucking her feet beneath them. ‘He kidnapped me from my own home, Mother! Why won’t you believe me?’
Her mother only shook her head sadly. ‘I believe you, Hannah. But the greater problem is that you spent hours alone in a carriage with a soldier. Lord Belgrave is right: nothing will cover up that scandal, if it gets out.’
But no one knew about it, except…
‘He’s threatening you,’ Hannah predicted, suddenly realising the truth. ‘Belgrave plans to tell everyone about the scandal unless I wed him. Is that it?’
Her mother’s face turned scarlet. ‘We won’t let that happen.’
Hannah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her parents were allowing themselves to be manipulated for her sake.
Christine avoided looking at her. ‘You have nothing to fear from the baron, Hannah. I believe him when he says he has nothing but remorse for his actions. He wants to start again, and I think you should give him a second chance.’
‘I’d rather kiss a toad.’
‘He is coming to pay a call on you tomorrow. And you will see him and listen to what he has to say.’
Without meeting Hannah’s incredulous gaze, Christine retrieved a sheet of paper from a writing desk and chose a pen. Hannah clenched her fingers together, for she knew her mother was composing another list.
‘Mother, no,’ she pleaded. ‘There has to be another way. Perhaps I could go to Falkirk with Stephen and Emily.’ Her brother would offer her the sanctuary of his home without question.
‘They have already left, early this morning,’ her mother said. ‘And your brother has enough to worry about with Emily due to give birth in a few weeks. He doesn’t know what happened last night, and we are not going to tell him until it’s all sorted out.’
Her mother handed her the list, and walked her to the door. ‘Now. Go to your room and rest until eleven o’clock. When you rise, wear your rose silk gown with the high neck and pagoda sleeves. We will discuss your future over luncheon. The baron will come to call upon you tomorrow to discuss the arrangements.’
‘I don’t want to see that man again, much less marry him,’ Hannah insisted.
‘You no longer have a choice. You’d best get used to the idea, for your father is making the arrangements now. You’ll be married within a week.’
After her mother’s door closed, Hannah stormed down the stairs, her shawl falling loose from her shoulders. There was no hope of finding sleep, not now.
With a brief glance at the list, she saw her mother’s orders.
1 Rest until eleven o’clock.
2 Wear the rose silk gown.
3 Drink a cup of tea with cream, no sugar, to calm your nerves.
Hannah read the list three times, her hands shaking. Her entire life, she’d done everything her parents had asked. She had studied her lessons, listened to her governesses and done everything she could to please her family.
It made her stomach twist to see them turn against her this way. Her parents no longer cared about her future happiness—only their reputations.
Though she was supposed to return to her room, she kept moving towards the gardens. Tears of rage burned down her cheeks. All her years of being good meant nothing if she had to wed a man like Belgrave.
The list no longer held the familiarity of a mother’s love, helping her to remember the tasks at hand. Instead, it was a chain, tightening around her neck.
Hannah crumpled up the paper and threw it into the shrubbery. Rules, rules and more rules. Once, she’d thought that, by obeying the rules, her reward would come.
Did her mother truly expect her to wed the man who had caused her such misery? She’d sooner drown herself in the Thames than marry Belgrave.
She stumbled through the garden, the remnants of her headache rising up again. Why? Why did this have to happen to her? Only yesterday, she’d had so many choices before her. Now, she had nothing at all.
Hannah wrapped her arms around her waist, as if holding the pieces of herself together. With each step forward, she released the sobs, letting herself have a good cry. She wandered down the gravel pathway, to the place where she had lost her necklace last night.
Unexpectedly, her hand rose to her throat. The diamonds were there. The Lieutenant must have returned the necklace to her early this morning. She didn’t remember him wrapping the strand around her neck, for most of the night had been a blur of pain.
After she’d been abducted, the baron had grown flustered at her illness, demanding that she cease her tears. He’d cursed at her, but she’d been unable to stop weeping.
Then the Lieutenant had rescued her. He’d covered up all light, keeping her warm. Not speaking a sound. Holding her in the darkness.
Hannah pulled her shawl around her shoulders. She didn’t know what to think of him. One minute, he’d been her saving grace, and the next, he’d stolen a kiss.
Shielding her eyes against the morning sun, she saw him standing near the stables while a groom readied his horse. Almost against her will, Hannah’s feet moved forward, drawing her closer to the Lieutenant. She didn’t have the faintest idea what to say, or why she was even planning to speak to him.
The Lieutenant’s hazel eyes were tired, his cheeks covered in dark stubble. The white cravat hung open at his throat, and he held his hat in his hands.
Hannah dipped her head in greeting, and out of deference, the groom stepped away to let them talk. She kept her voice low, so the servant wouldn’t overhear their conversation. ‘I’m glad my father didn’t murder you.’
Michael shrugged and put on one of his riding gloves. ‘I’m a difficult man to kill.’
Hannah found her attention caught by his long fingers, and she remembered his bare hand caressing her nape. No one had ever made her feel that way before, her skin sparking with unfamiliar sensations.
She closed her eyes, clearing her thoughts. Then she reached for what she truly needed to say. ‘I never thanked you for rescuing me. It means a great deal to me. Even despite all of this.’
The Lieutenant gave a slight nod, as though he didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t acknowledge the words of gratitude, but instead glanced over at the house. ‘Lord Rothburne said you’re going to marry Belgrave.’
Hannah tensed. ‘My father is ready to marry me off to the next titled gentleman who walks through the gate.’ She stared him in the eyes. ‘I won’t do it. He’ll have to drag me to the altar.’
‘I thought you were the obedient sort.’
‘Not about this.’ She could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth. It wasn’t like her, not at all, but then she felt like someone had taken a club to her life, smashing it into a thousand glass pieces.
Obedience had brought her nothing. And right now she wanted to voice her frustrations to someone who understood.
‘Why is this happening?’ she whispered. ‘What did I do that was so wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ the Lieutenant said. His hand started to reach for hers, but he drew back, as if remembering that it wasn’t proper. ‘Your only fault is being the daughter of a Marquess.’
‘I wish I weren’t.’ Hannah lowered her head. ‘I wish I were nothing but an ordinary woman. I would have more freedom.’
No lists, no rules to follow. She could make her own decisions and be mistress of her life.
‘You wouldn’t want that at all.’ The Lieutenant gestured toward her father’s house. ‘You were born to live in a world such as this.’
‘It’s a prison.’
‘A gilded prison.’
‘A prison, nonetheless.’ She raised her eyes to his. ‘And now I’ll be sentenced to marriage with Lord Belgrave. Unless I can find a way out.’
He didn’t respond, but she saw the way his mouth tightened, the sudden darkness in his eyes. ‘You will.’
‘And what about you?’ She realised she’d never asked what had happened to him. Surely the Lieutenant had faced his own lion’s den, courtesy of the Marquess. ‘What happened between you and my father?’
He hesitated before answering, ‘My commanding officer will see to it that I stay on the Crimean Peninsula.’
‘What exactly…does that mean?’ A shiver of foreboding passed through her.
‘I’ll be sent to fight. Possibly on the front lines.’ He shrugged, as if it were to be expected. But she understood what he wouldn’t say. Men who fought on the front lines had essentially been issued a death sentence without a court-martial. Certainly it was no place for an officer.
She stared at him, her skin growing cold. Though he might be an unmannered rogue who had taken unfair advantage of her, he didn’t deserve to die.
This is your fault. Her conscience drove the truth home like an arrow striking its target. If it weren’t for her, he’d be returning to his former duties.
