Carrying The Gentleman's Secret

‘Miss Brook,’ the stranger said. ‘Please believe me when I say I regret mentioning—’

Her eyes flew to his. ‘What? The wager? Is that what you were about to say? Why should you regret it? Why—when you were telling the truth? I have a right to know the extent Henry went to in order to get me into his bed.’ She looked at Henry. ‘What you have done is despicable. From the very beginning you set out to degrade me in the most shameful way of all. I am not too proud to admit that in the beginning I was foolish enough to fall for your charms. You’re no doubt accustomed to that sort of feminine reaction wherever you go,’ she said scathingly, ‘even though you have a wife. It would give me great satisfaction to know that handing over five hundred guineas for your failed wager would ruin you, but I doubt it will.’

Faced with such ferocity, Henry took a step towards her. ‘For heaven’s sake, Lydia, it was just a wager—a moment of madness. I never intended to hurt you,’ he said in an attempt to justify his actions, but Lydia was having none of it.

‘A moment of madness!’ she flared, her eyes blazing with turbulent animosity. ‘Is that what you call it? There is no excuse for what you have done. What is true of most scoundrels is doubly so of you. You would have ruined me, defiled me without any regard to my feelings and then cast me off as you would a common trull, you—you loathsome, despicable lech.’

‘Lydia, listen—’

‘I am not interested in anything further you have to say. But you listen to me, Henry Sturgis—Seymour—whoever you are,’ she said, her chilled contempt meeting his spluttering apologies head on. ‘I will never forgive you for this. From now on you will keep your distance from me.’ She turned from him and walked away. She couldn’t bear to look at him. The man and woman who had been brought in to witness their wedding stood side by side, rigid, their faces blank and expressionless as she brushed past them.

What he had done to her and what it would mean for her in the future spooled before her like a long ribbon of anger and grief. She wanted to lash out at him, to claw his face and pound him with her fists. Hate, disgust, disappointment and a deep sense of humiliation and hurt throbbed inside her skull and tightened her chest until she thought she would choke.

He had brought her all this way for a pretend wedding on the strength of a wager with his friends. She felt as if he’d taken a knife to her and sliced her into little pieces. Gripped by a terrible miasma of pain and deprivation—feelings she recognised, having grown up with them—she turned and ran unseeing out of the room which she had so recently walked into with a happiness she could not conceive. Now she saw nothing, heard nothing but the heavy pounding of her heart as she left the house and out into the street, hurrying to goodness knew where—anywhere, as long as she didn’t have to go back into that room and face them all, to confront the truth of what Henry was and what he had done to her.

Rage, white-hot and fierce, coursed through her, bringing a suffering so excruciating as to be unsupportable. She felt cruelly betrayed, lost and abandoned, the immensity of it causing her intense pain.

She knew she’d feel better if she could only get away. If she could escape from him. She didn’t want to stop because then she wouldn’t have to think about anything else. But eventually she would have to stop and when she did she would have to feel, which she didn’t want to face. She didn’t want to see Henry. She didn’t want to look in his eyes. She hadn’t loved him. She didn’t know what it meant to love anyone, but it did nothing to lessen her humiliation and the pain of such a public betrayal.

She kept on heading out of the village. What she was planning to do when she stopped running she couldn’t say. The most important thing was to get away. She heard her name being called. She kept on going. Her heart was racing in her chest and she felt a sharp pain in her side.

‘Wait,’ someone called.

She heard herself gasp and saw the road ahead of her blur. She kept hurrying on. She heard footsteps behind her and then another call of her name. Not until a hand grasped her arm did she halt, breathing hard. She turned, her mind and her senses disjointed, the people and carriages passing by in a maze of confused colours and muffled sounds. Her confusion was exacerbated by the colour of light blue eyes surrounded by thick black lashes, the sound of a deep, mellifluous voice and the pleasant aroma of a sharp cologne. Still holding her arm, Alexander Golding led her to the side of the road, out of harm’s way of passing carriages.

The eyes that looked into hers were as transparent and as brilliant as sunlight on water. His sharp, sceptical gaze seemed to bore into her brain.

‘Are you all right? You are upset.’ He spoke evenly, without sympathy, seemingly uncaring of her plight or the cause. Her chest was rising and falling in rapid succession.

‘Of course I am upset,’ she replied irately, trying to pull herself together. ‘What Henry has done to me is unforgivable. What was I? Some tender titbit he decided to play with, a simpleton to fill his needs for a night or two. What amusement he must have had playing his sordid little game with me. And how disappointed he must now be feeling, knowing he has lost his wager.’

Nothing moved in his face, but his eyes darkened. Quietly, he said, ‘I am sorry you had to find out like that.’

‘Yes—so am I, but thank goodness I found out before it was too late. Now would you please let go of my arm?’ He obliged at once.

Her anger somewhat diminished, Lydia stared at the darkly handsome stranger. He possessed a haughty reserve that was not inviting. There was also an aggressive confidence and strength of purpose in his features, and he had the air of a man who succeeded in all he set out to achieve. From the arrogant lift of his dark head and casual stance, he was a man with many shades to his nature, a man with a sense of his own infallibility. With her mind on what Henry would have done to her had this stranger not intervened, she was unnaturally calm, as calm as the Ice Maiden Henry had accused her of being.

‘I—I...’ Words seemed to stick in her throat, almost choking her. She felt exposed and vulnerable, knowing this man was seeing her like this. Normally poised and in complete control of herself, she felt so undignified. It was all so humiliating. When she had first looked at him she had seen by his face that he was a hard man not easily softened, so she was surprised he had even come after her. ‘Please excuse me. This is all so sudden—so confusing.’

For the first time, Alexander looked at her and she at him. Something passed between them. Each felt that this moment was one of great importance, that they stood on the edge of something tangible, but they did not understand what it could be. Lydia swallowed hard. She could not seem to look away. She thought she should scream or try to run away. She did neither. Noise and bustle went on around them, but the sounds and people were lost to them as they looked at each other. It was a look that stretched for only seconds, but seemed far longer before Lydia averted her eyes as her heart swelled with such a bewildering array of emotions that she was overwhelmed.

* * *

Caught off guard by the effect this young woman was having on him, Alex immediately recollected himself. He could see she was still in the process of reeling from the truth of what Henry had done. She was dressed with tasteful simplicity in a gown the colour of raspberries. Her features were striking, her hair beneath her bonnet a rich, shining black. Her large dark green eyes tilting slightly upwards were moist, droplets of tears caught in her thick fringe of lashes glittering like diamonds. Her mouth was as red and ripe as a berry, her lower lip full. The sun was warm and the light glinted softly against her. It made her skin luminous. Quite tall and slender, she was wholly arresting and he could not seem to drag his eyes away.

When he had burst into the room to halt the wedding, he had been unable to focus on anything else but his brother-in-law. When he had learned Henry had come to Scotland and his reason for doing so, he had taken the young woman to be one of the high-spirited good-time girls who thought of little else but the frivolous pursuit of pleasure, whose life was one constant round of uninhibited fun and who thought it necessary to be a rebel, to outrageously defy the order of society—hence her easy compliance to adhere to this mad escapade.

The anger provoked by Henry’s reprehensible behaviour began to subside a little, and Alex felt a faint stirring of admiration for the self-assured way in which the young woman faced him. Anger burned like a flame in her eyes and he was touched, despite himself, by her youth. When he looked at her, there was no hint of the softening in his mood. His eyes, harsh and impenetrable, met hers, and, if she had but known it, they were adept in keeping a legion of employees in their place.

‘I imagine it is,’ he said at length. Beginning to see how devastating it must be for her to realise she had fallen prey to a seducer, he suddenly showed a hint of human feeling. ‘This cannot be easy for you. You did not know Henry had a wife.’

Wishing herself anywhere but where she was, facing the lonely place that rejection and anger had taken her, Lydia blinked hard to make the tears of hurt, anger and frustration disappear, hating herself for a weakness which ordinarily she would never show. ‘Had I known that, I would not be here. I cannot believe he has done this to me. How could he?’

There was a desperate, almost wild look about her. She seemed ready to bolt like a wild horse at any moment. The cords in her neck were strained and the glimmer of tears slipped like melting dreams from her eyes. Alex felt a curious need to treat her with gentleness, to say something to comfort her. But he didn’t know her or understand the nature of her grief, or her true relationship with his sister’s husband.

‘It’s all right. I am not about to judge you.’

She didn’t look convinced. Distrust clouded her eyes. Fiercely, she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. ‘But I think you will.’ She tried to sound scornful. She only sounded afraid. The stranger would know, hear her inner weakness, and she despised him for knowing. Her natural resilience began to reassert itself. She looked at him, eyes flashing, defiant chin lifted. ‘I thank you for arriving when you did.’

‘There’s no need.’

Alex noticed her posture—arms stiff, hands clenched by her sides. Her face was white like alabaster and her eyes glittered. He could not take his eyes off her—in fact, she looked quite magnificent. She reminded him of a rapier blade made of steel. Drawn up to her full height, she was standing on her dignity. He could see that the fear had left her and she was in the grip of an ice-cold, venomous rage. He waited for her to conclude whatever inner battle she was engaged in and he tried to keep his face as non-committal as possible.

‘I imagine you were looking forward to going to America.’

‘Yes. I can’t pretend otherwise—a new start—I’d hoped.’

‘You must be disappointed.’

‘One has to learn to live with disappointments.’

‘Really? You seem rather young to be stacking up the bitter lessons of life.’

‘No one knows at what age life will deny us.’

Alex looked at her. He tried to read her face, to see what emotion and meaning were behind her words, but he couldn’t. He suspected that this young woman had a great deal of pride and courage, and both those things would force her to brave out the situation no matter how devastated she was.

Lydia stood and stared about her. What was she to do? Until now there had been Henry, experienced and decisive, to give her guidance and to take ultimate responsibility of the journey north in the hired coach and of their wedding. Now, she realised, she was on her own. Her hopes and dreams for a future which she had built were fractured suddenly. But, God willing, it was not irreparable.

‘I will not go back into that room,’ she said. ‘I do not want to see Henry again. Not ever.’

Alex noted the even tone of her voice and the directness of her contact with his eyes. ‘No one expects you to. Return to the hotel. I will make sure Henry does not trouble you. I want to say it was remiss of me not to enquire as to how what has happened has affected you. I do apologise most sincerely. I am not usually so unmannerly and I realise I spoke to you most unfairly earlier. I do beg your pardon.’

‘Since he is married to your sister your anger was justifiable. Believe me, sir, when he proposed marriage to me I took time to weigh my options, considering every possible outcome of permanently tying my life to his.’ She smiled bitterly. ‘When it comes to making decisions I am the least impetuous person you could meet. I should have thought about it some more.’

‘You weren’t to know he was already married. How could you? Come. Let me walk with you back to your hotel.’

‘Thank you.’ She fell into step beside him, slanting him a look. ‘You have gone to a lot of trouble.’

He shrugged. ‘I was left with no choice. Believe me, Miss Brook, I would not have halted your wedding without good reason. Consider yourself lucky that I discovered what he was up to before it was too late. I am sorry if this has inconvenienced you, but you must see that I have done you a favour.’

‘Yes—yes, I realise that.’ She stepped away from him. ‘I will return to the hotel. I shall be boarding the coach going south in the morning.’

Having reached where she was staying, they stopped outside and Alex looked down at her, noting a tiny cleft in her chin that was almost invisible. She had style and bearing, and there was a tone to her voice and an imperious lift to her head that spoke of breeding, of being superior to the ordinary woman. He suspected she was very much her own person—a woman of her time. In the sun’s bright light her colouring was vivid now. She dazzled him, drawing him to her with a power that enthralled him, and he stared at her with a hunger that went beyond anything physical.

He was quite bewildered by what he felt for her. It was an emotion he had no words for. All he knew was that it was different to anything he had felt in a long time, something that had sprung up suddenly, taking him by surprise, and he knew he couldn’t and didn’t want to walk away from her.

‘I, too, will be staying at the hotel. It would give me great pleasure if you would dine with me tonight, Miss Brook?’

Lydia took a moment to consider his request, thinking that she really should refuse in the light of everything that had happened. But feeling restless and dissatisfied and having no wish to be alone on what should have been her wedding night, she accepted.

‘Why—I—Yes, thank you. I would like that.’

* * *

Returning to the wedding venue, Alex immediately sought out Harris, his manservant—the man he relied on implicitly in both his business and personal life.

‘Where is my brother-in-law, Harris?’

‘Still inside—doing his best to placate the minister who was to conduct the ceremony. His attitude is of a man who is not at fault.’

‘Which comes as no surprise to me, Harris.’

‘He wanted to go after the young lady, but I told him to wait here.’

‘You did quite right. He’s the last person she wants to see right now. I’ve taken her back to the hotel. It grieves me to say so, but my sister’s husband is a wastrel with a warped sense of humour and his reasoning, to put it mildly, is perverse. He is capable of gross infidelity and would have boasted of the conquest to his worthless friends had he brought it off and to hell with his reputation and the hurt it would have caused both his wife and Miss Brook.’

‘Well, you did try to warn your sister against marrying him.’

‘Since when did Miranda listen to anything I have to say?’ Alex retorted crossly. ‘I sometimes wonder about the family she married into—that the very fabric of the Seymour line is flawed in some way. As you know, I have no particular liking for my sister’s choice of husband, but I did not imagine he was capable of this. His father had a dubious carry on—a gambler and a womaniser who left a pile of debts. There’s a dark thread running through that family, Harris, and who knows where the devil it will appear? I pray to God not in my as-yet-unborn nephew or niece.’

‘I very much doubt it,’ Harris said.

‘Let’s hope not. I would protect Miranda from this—but when she gets a bee in her bonnet she won’t give up until she is in full possession of the facts. She knows he’s been seeing another woman—but not the extent of it. For her sake I would like to keep this whole thing quiet. Should the story get out the dirt will stick and the unsavoury backlash will cause her unbearable hurt.’

Alex strode into the house, meeting Henry coming out. Alex was a serious individual and known as a hard, unyielding taskmaster by those subordinate to him. He was also a ruthless businessman who had made a large fortune in shipping and mining in the north of England and an even larger one in clever investments in the railways and abroad. He had settled a more-than-generous dowry on Miranda, knowing of Henry’s debts and his run-down estate which would benefit. Alex looked at him with contempt.

His normally arrogant brother-in-law was now subdued, demoralised by the events that had overtaken him, existing in a numbing vacuum of his own uncertainty. ‘Well?’ Alex demanded. ‘Things have ended this way because of a miscalculation on your part—Miranda’s failure to remain in Surrey and your friends’ willingness to talk. It was a stupid mistake, the sort of error that could cost you your marriage. What have you to say for yourself?

‘What can I say? You appear to know everything.’

‘Quite. You care for nothing but your own self-indulgence. How dare you treat my sister in this despicable manner! You disgust me.’

‘You must listen—let me explain...’

Alex shot him a look that would have stopped a racehorse in its tracks. ‘Hold your tongue! I don’t have the stomach for it now. I would like to spare Miranda the details of what you have done, but I do not see how it can be avoided. She will be deeply wounded by your betrayal, but no doubt she will forgive you eventually—foolish girl. You are undeserving of her devotion. I believe you hired a coach to come here?’

Scowling and tight-lipped, Henry nodded.

‘I want you to leave here without delay, even if it means travelling through the night. You will go straight home to your wife, where you will confess what you have done and beg for her forgiveness. Is that understood, Henry?’ Henry flinched before his cold anger. ‘Damn it all, Henry, I will not rake over the sordid events that have brought you here. My anger will probably get the better of me and I won’t be responsible for my actions. I have to remain in the north for a few days. When you reach Surrey you will remain at home—close to your wife—and keep a clear head. Where your friends are concerned you will maintain a discreet silence. I expect your full cooperation in this. You and I have important matters to discuss.’

‘Lydia—Miss Brook, she...’

‘Has no wish to see you. You will not try to approach her. Is that understood?’

Henry nodded and swallowed audibly. ‘Yes.’

Alex turned and walked away.

* * *

Alone in her room at the hotel and hidden from prying eyes, Lydia felt her whole body tightening as something tried to escape her, yet as fierce as she tried to suppress it, it was to no avail. Tears started to her eyes and began to flow, in sheer frustration and desperation. She wept for the present, in which her dreams and every wish seemed to be shattered, and she wept for the future, which now looked empty and bleak.

Henry’s appearance into her life and his proposal of marriage had meant a liberation from a life that had held her chained to Alistair’s workshop. Alistair, who had been her mother’s lover and her employer, worked her hard, the constant pressure he put on her making her long to be free, to own her own establishment and create her own designs. Her dream had been her mother’s dream, too. Before she had died she’d said it didn’t matter that she hadn’t realised her dream because she, Lydia, would carry forward her dream. Through her she would live on.

Henry had been a means of escape.

As his wife Lydia would have had a freedom from responsibility she had always dreamed of. Marriage to him promised great changes in her life. If she did actually marry him, her circumstances would alter dramatically. In short, she thought bitterly, he was a means to an end. But it had not been like that and now, with hindsight, she saw how he had skilfully manipulated her during the time she had known him. Determined to possess her, he had used patience, cunning and ruthlessness to gain her trust and devotion to get her into his bed.

Chapter Two

From his vantage point inside the dining room of the hotel, Alex watched Lydia enter. She stood in the doorway, her gaze doing a slow sweep of the room. Seeing him rise from the table, she walked towards him. Instead of the pale, humiliated woman he’d feared to see, she had lost none of the quiet, regal poise that had struck him earlier. She was the personification of calm, giving no indication of what had transpired earlier—or the tears that unbeknown to him she had shed in her room. Alex felt his admiration for her grow. He reacted to her. It was automatic after too long a period of celibacy.

Her body moved serenely as she crossed the room. Her ivory skin was flawless. In contrast to this, her hair, parted in the centre with a profusion of heavy corkscrew curls on either side, with the rest of her thick hair braided and pinned at the back, glistened like polished jet. Her eyes, surrounded by a heavy fringe of dark lashes, were large and luminous green. She was darkness and light, shadows and moonlight. Completely enchanted, he stepped round the table and held out her chair. As she took her seat and thanked him he breathed in the heady scent that came from her. She really was quite stunning. Little wonder Henry had been unable to resist her. How could any man with blood in his veins withstand her?

‘My compliments,’ he remarked softly, his eyes appraising her as he took his seat across from her. ‘You look lovely. How are you holding up?’

Lydia’s flesh grew hot and a tremor passed through her now she was face to face with him once more. A smile of frank admiration gleamed in his eyes when he looked at her, his sternly handsome face stamped with nobility and pride, his powerful, muscular body emanating raw power and sensuality. She smiled at him, the smile lighting her eyes with intelligence.

‘I am very well—considering what has happened,’ she replied, frustrated by the slight quaver in her voice. ‘Where is Henry?’

‘You will be relieved to know he has left Gretna.’

‘Yes, I am—extremely relieved. I trust he has gone back to his wife?’

‘Yes.’

‘And the gentleman you were with earlier. I do so hope I have not deprived him of your company at dinner.’

‘You mean Harris. He’s my valet—secretary—whatever he wishes to call himself on the day and he’s been with me for longer than I care to remember. What I will say is that he’s indispensable. I am a busy man, Miss Brook. Harris takes care of my needs. At present he’s making the most of some time to himself.’

The hotel dining room was filled with elegant, fashionable people. But it was these two that caught the eye and drew the most attention. They were a striking couple, Lydia still attired in the dress she had designed and made herself for her wedding. She knew light-coloured gowns were popular for brides, but Lydia had had to make do with the fabrics available to her. With its sloping shoulders, full sleeves and close-cut bodice tapering to a small point at the waist, the full skirt pleated into the waistband, it drew many an admiring glance. Alex, over six feet tall when standing, created a strong presence in the room in a way other men failed to do.