MC BIKER ROMANCE: Bad Boy Romance: BETRAYED: (New Adult Motorcycle Club Navy SEAL Romance) (Contemporary Military Romance Thriller) (56 page)

Mr. Burnham looked down at this. Grandmother did not conceal her disappointment with this matter, but I barely heard the tirade she unleashed upon him. My feet had started moving without me, before it had sunk in where they were going.

I nearly tripped on the edge of the rug in the anteroom. I knew I held the full attention of those in waiting there, but I didn’t much care. Some calls of “Madam!” and, more accurately, “Miss!” followed me out into the hall but I didn’t heed them.

I found Lucy in her room. She’d been put in a guest suite much better suited to a man with a deep and abiding love of hunting, and had taken the heads of the animals off the wall and stacked them all up in a corner.

When I entered she was reading, but looked up at me as though she’d been caught at something when I came in the door.

“Oh, you won’t tell anyone, will you? I couldn’t stand them looking at me anymore.” she said. There wasn’t any real desperation to her plea for concealment. It was just the sort of thing for Lucy to say offhand.

“Come,” I said, and took her hand. I was out of breath from the walk here. One disadvantage of such a huge house was the shape one had to be in to get from one end to the other without losing one’s lungs entirely.

She had questions, but I wasn’t sure how to answer them. I only kept pulling her along, telling her to wait and all her questions should be answered.

She wasn’t pleased, and she complained loudly, even though she was in altogether better shape than I was, and couldn’t have been as tired.

The servants said nothing as we passed them this time in the anteroom. They’d learned their lesson, I supposed, that it was futile. And Lucy and I burst, unimpeded, into Grandmother’s room.

Grandmother and Mr. Burnham, it seemed, had been engaged in some matters of a technical or specific nature. They had papers out, and Grandmother had her spectacles on. She was peering over them now, at me, most alarmed by my being out of breath and a little disheveled.

“Grandmother, Mr. Burnham,” I said, and then paused for dramatic effect, “I have found her!”

I don’t know what I expected, but I was certainly disappointed with the blank stares I received.

“I’m so sorry, my darling. You’ve found who, exactly?” Grandmother asked.

“This is Lucile! This is Lucy.”

Lucy took her hand back from me, but my mind only barely registered the movement.

Only Mr. Burnham reacted to my clarification.

“Lucile!” he said.

“Yes,” I replied. “This is her.”

Grandmother had begun to understand now what we must be meaning. She sat up straighter, and had begun putting the papers she was looking at aside, though the spectacles remained perched on her nose.

“Emma,” came Lucy’s voice from beside me, “I think you had better tell me what is happening.”

I turned to look at her. In my excitement, I had been too rushed to tell her what was going on. It was only now that I saw her face and the disturbed look on it that I began to realize how things must look from her angle.

“Lucy, I have some confessions I must make to you,” I began, unsure how I should say what I needed to tell her. She just looked at me, expectantly.

“I knew who you were before we met. I had tracked you down, you see, when I was leaving London. My grandmother had told me some things and, well, I wanted to be sure they were true. And I thought … Well, look here. I thought that your side of the family had been done rather badly by. And I was right, I dare say. And I thought I should, if I could, do something about it.”

“Emma, you’re not making any sense.”

Lucy said it calmly, but she was not at ease. I wasn’t sure how to continue with the confession. Lucy could unnerve me from time to time, when she was in this mood. So I turned my attention back to my grandmother, the only woman now smiling in the room.

“Grandmother, Lucile is your other granddaughter. I found her for you, and I’ve looked after her, more or less, all these years on the allowance you gave me.”

“Looked after
me
,” I heard Lucy grumble from beside me. But even now she was stepping forward as Grandmother was calling her. She shot me a glance that said we would talk about this later, but that was all.

Suddenly it was as though I were invisible. I had no purpose anymore in the room. I’d brought my half-cousin to my grandmother. And that was all. They would have much to discuss, and I would only take up Grandmother’s little time.

As I passed through the anteroom, I found that the servants had all moved to the doorway, listening as discreetly as possible. When I came out, they all averted their gazes, as thought that would somehow stop me from seeing them, or noticing what they had been doing.

But I only grinned, walking past them. I had been so concerned with my grandmother and her wishes, and for Lucy’s future, there hadn’t been time for me to fully realize the more momentous portion of that audience.

She approved! After all this time, she approved of Henry! She wanted, no, she
insisted
that we would be together.

I could feel his hands on me. I could see his face, peaceful from this morning. He would be mine! Not only in my dreams, or in the thoughts that I allowed myself to sink into, like a warm bath, on a long voyage or train ride. But he would be mine in reality, and we could have a life together.

It wasn’t until I reached the stairs to begin descending them, to go down to the front of the house and take the carriage straight back to his arms, that I remembered what I’d done.

The message I’d left him hadn’t been vague. It was clear that I was leaving him. I had left him the first time, and then I had left him again. And then I had given him hope, and then I’d left him again. Doubt began to creep into my mind. What if he wouldn’t take me back? What if he didn’t want me? No, not that. I would never believe he wouldn’t want me. But what if he felt that, after the three times I had left him, I was not to be trusted with his heart?

The thought of him refusing me now, after I had waited so many years yearning for this one thing, made me lose my step. I reached out for the balustrade, but my hand missed it. I was falling down, down the grand staircase, foot over head over hand. My arm hit the stairs with a heavy
whack
and I cried out. The pain in my arm was all-consuming, until I hit my head just as hard and the edges of my vision began to blur.

And then, much more suddenly than my fall had begun, it was over. I was on the hard, cold marble of the entryway. Around me were crowds of servants. I saw the old butler. I could remember him now from when I was young. He always used to get that expression when I was doing something foolish and he was concerned for me but there was nothing he could do.

Other than him, there were a few maids, and…

My heart stopped. Perhaps I had hit my head too hard. I’d been thinking of him and here he was in front of me. He must be a trick of the mind, brought on by the fall.

But I could feel him, sitting there on the ground with me, pulling me into his arms in the most socially reproachable way.

He was telling everyone to get back, and asking again and again if I was all right.

“Yes,” I told him, finally, when I felt my head had cleared and I was convinced he was real. “Yes, I’m perfectly all right.”

And then his expression changed, and a hint of nervousness entered his demeanor.

“Good,” he said. “Then I have some things that I must say to you.”

Here it was. Here was when he would tell me that I had been cruel to him and he never wished to see me again.

“I don’t care,” he began. “I don’t care at all if I’m ruined. I don’t know if I ever would have been, but if I would have, I certainly would not be anymore. I am already ruined, don’t you see? And I don’t mean the money. Yes, all I have is the house anymore, and yes, without it I’d be lost. But I’m lost in my own way to begin with. I’ve forgotten everything I used to treasure. I didn’t realize how much I’d let go with you when you left, but you’ve brought it all back with you, and I can’t do without it now.

“Emma, I’m absolutely, completely, hopelessly ruined. And if I must be ruined either way, I’d rather be ruined with you. Let her do whatever she wants. Let her disinherit you. Let her tell whoever she wants to tell whatever she wants to tell them. We’ll find a way to get by. Together. As we should have been from the start.”

He spoke the words in starts and stops, as though he had to get up the courage for each new sentence. And then when he was done, he stroked my cheek with his thumb. I felt the intimacy then that I’d felt at our first meetings, when we were young and nothing of complication had ever come between us, nor had any hint that there was anything more than simple distaste between our families.

“I won’t be ruined,” I said, and immediately saw that my words were not understood the way I meant them. Henry began to draw back from me. But I reached up, and held him close.

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean that I won’t have to be ruined. And you won’t have to be ruined. My grandmother has changed her mind. I won’t lose you, nor my inheritance. And whatever secrets she may know will go with her when she goes to rest.”

I could feel Henry’s chest heave beneath my head, in one great sigh of relief, years in the making. Then he laughed out loud, just a little. And then he bent down, in front of all the servants, and anyone who might care to see, and kissed me. He kissed me with his strong, soft lips, and it was all the sweeter for knowing that there would be many more kisses like this to be shared.

“Come, my love,” he said, “we’d best get you to the doctor.”

“I’ll go anywhere you take me,” I replied.

And we held each other’s gaze, and knew it was true.

The Duke’s Pregnant Peasant

Chapter 1

Ferdinand

              “I so dread these dinners at the palace. It is so tedious to listen to everyone prattling on with their opinions. Half of them spend no time in their own lands to even begin to understand the troubles of their people, our people,” I said to my wife.

              “It is true, Duke, that many of our peers do not have the same connection and affinity for the peoples under their rule as you do, but all are educated since birth on proper rule and making decisions for the good of the people. Love of country, title, and the monarchy is surely enough to motivate most to hold opinions that bear regard. Tomorrow evening will not be so bad,” Rosalind defended.

              We both had a love of country, but Rosalind Lombard, Duchess of Vestavia, had more faith in the peerage than I, Ferdinand Lombard, Duke of Vestavia. I felt the plights of the people were best resolved one on one, with the people.

              At the moment, we were talking before bed in the privacy of our chambers. I enjoyed our solitude and seized opportunities to relax and converse freely. Though there was never any romantic feeling between us, there was a strong friendship. I could tell she enjoyed our conversations, too.

              We valued each other’s opinions, however, and were often in agreement. I had a “hands-on, change-one-life-at-a-time” approach to living. The duchess believed in those in power working together with good planning and strong, large actions. After discussing issues together in private, I was always able to present thoughts that were well received, with other nobility appearing to see the individual pieces of large problems and creating solutions that could be implemented on a small scale to fix things on a larger scale. Much of that could be credited to Rosalind. Our union held the support of the duchy and other members of the peerage.                                                                               

              “Well, I would be of differing opinion, but I’ll manage. The entertainment and food are always exceptional,” I replied.

              “Well, why don’t you spend the morning in the duchy? If you return by lunch, I can have the carriage waiting. It is not such a long ride to the castle,” she said.

              “That sounds very intriguing, but I was in town this morning. After spending some time touring with the disabled community I visited with my friend. I think two visits in a row might draw some attention, but how kind of you to think of my pleasure,” I said, touching my wife’s hand.

              She gave me a nod and smile.

              “Your friendships are important, dear. I would have a friend of my own, but in all this time I still feel I am waiting for something,” Rosalind replied.

              Rosalind and I had been married for just over six years. She had proven an educated, well-mannered beauty, but our relationship plateaued at friendship. The friendship we were discussing was the romantic relationship I had with a peasant, Vivien. I had maintained this friendship for nearly two years now.

Rosalind did not mind. We were both content, because despite societal expectations, we felt with discretion there could be room in our lives for love, true love. My being able to spend more time among the public simply allowed me to find it sooner. Now, Rosalind was twenty-three and devoted to political stability, and I was thirty-five and more and more wanting to leave land and title behind for personal fulfillment.

“I believe your own romance could be nearer than you think, dearest. There have been whispers of someone of rank being disappointed that he did not have an opportunity with you, someone whose mind I know you admire and whose wit and good looks garner the admiration of other women,” I said.

“If you mean the Marquis de Beban, Lord Maxwell, I see why you would think that, but nothing could ever come of it,” she said, looking away.

“Why? He is widowed, as enamored with our peerage and duty as you are, and everyone has known for years he secretly coveted you,” I replied.

Even when his wife was alive, I saw his loving looks at mine. Everyone did. Everyone also knew he and his wife did not get along well. She did not possess the mental stamina he sought.

“There is no secret. Everyone being aware of his affections increases the attention that gets placed on us for even being in the same room,” Rosalind said, shaking her head.

“We are nobility directly in line and tied to royalty. There will always be some gossip about us,” I said with a shrug.

“Well, aside from that, I suppose the reasons to not associate would be limited, but it is just simpler not to. Besides, I am content. I like having a husband who discusses things and presents our opinion and considers me as an equal, as I entered our marriage of equal title. I have done much better than many women of equal station. Also, you have never been one to flaunt your lover. The fact that you have only one, I believe, is a credit to our relationship and the friendship we have grown to share. Most think you simply enjoy games, cards, and drink. A man who takes time for leisure among his people is not such a bad reputation to have,” she said, giving me a kind smile.

“True. I think discretion has also added a certain degree of rebellious pleasure to things with Vivien. Still, I am grateful for you. I have been fortunate to marry a woman I can call confidante, friend, and voice of reason when I see none. More than anything, I wish your heart to know the light that comes from love and your body to know the experience of true pleasure. I will continue to pray that a total happiness and contentment is experienced by us both,” I said.

“Well, the happiness of our own choosing must be earned. For now, I have much happiness with what has already been given,” Rosalind said.