Regency Surrender: Wicked Deception: The Truth About Lady Felkirk / A Ring from a Marquess

While nursing him, she had not bothered to think too much about the character of the man she was caring for. The feeding, washing and changing of linens had been little more than a series of tasks to be completed. It was good to be busy and to occupy her mind with the routine of duty.

But that was over now. Tonight, she might have to lie still in his bed, her own thoughts and fears clamouring loud in her head, while he did whatever he wished...

She had hoped for continued indifference, for at least a little while longer. If they could live as strangers for a while, she might think of some way to escape before the inevitable occurred. But he had been watching her, all during dinner, and in the parlour as she’d worked. And he had been smiling. Although it was better than his continual suspicion, it had been the sort of warm, speculative smile she had seen on the faces of men before. It was likely the first step in a chain of events that would lead to the bedroom and trap her even deeper in the lie she had told.

She put the fear of that aside as she went out into the hall. At the moment, he needed her. He needed someone, at least. His wife would be the logical choice to offer comfort. The poor man had quit the room like a wounded animal after his godson’s rejection. Even with the complications it would add to her life, she could not abide the sight of suffering.

‘Wait!’ She needn’t have called out after him. She caught him easily, for he’d had to struggle with the crutches and his own limited strength. He’d travelled as far as the end of the hall to the little, round mirror that hung there and was staring into it, as though expecting to see a monster.

She came to his side, allowing him to know her presence by her reflection. ‘You must not think too much of that. Billy is normally the most agreeable of children. But even the best babies can take fright when they are startled.’

‘Have I really changed so much?’ Will touched his own face, as though doubting what he saw.

‘Not really.’ Much as she did not wish to admit it, he was even more handsome than he had been in Bath. His hair was as black as ever, except for the small streak of white near the scar. His skin, pale from illness, added to his dramatic good looks. And the easy smiles and relaxed manners he used at home were much less intimidating than the distant courtesy of the gentleman who had walked into the shop wishing to speak with Mr Montague about a crime committed in Wales nearly twenty years ago.

She had taken an instant dislike to him, for bringing up a subject that was still very painful to her. But amongst his family he seemed younger and more open. He had barely smiled at her and she had not yet seen him laugh. But she could see by the lines around his mouth and eyes that he did so, and frequently. He seemed like a most pleasant fellow. It was a shame to see him doubt himself now.

‘When you went away, after the christening, Billy was too small to know you,’ she assured him. ‘Since I brought you home, he has seen you often, but never with your eyes open and never standing up. You frightened him because he does not understand the change.’

‘Neither do I,’ Will said softly, almost to himself. Then he added, ‘He has no reason to fear.’ He turned to look at her, as though to reassure her as well. ‘I am not such a great beast, once you get to know me.’

She fought back her fears and laid a hand on his arm. ‘He will learn that, in time.’

He gave the barest of nods. ‘I hope you learn the same. I have not treated you very well, since I have awakened. But everything is so strange.’ He turned back to the mirror, staring into it as though he expected to see something in her reversed reflection that was not apparent when he looked directly at her.

She resisted the urge to search her own face in the glass. How should one look, at a moment like this? She had learned for most of her adult life to be good at dissembling. But was anyone this good of an actress, to pull off such a stunning performance for an audience of one who would be watching her closely, searching for clues that might lead him to his own truth?

For her sister’s sake, she had no choice but to try. She gave him a hopeful, watery smile and managed a single tear to indicate that her heart was too full for words. It gave her a few more moments to compose her thoughts before speaking. ‘I do not fear you,’ she lied. ‘And I understand that it will take time before you can feel truly yourself again.’

‘I am told my recovery thus far is thanks to your care.’ His brow was still furrowed as he repeated what must be rote acknowledgements of the situation as it had been told to him. ‘But in truth, madam, I can remember nothing before yesterday, of you and our marriage. Please enlighten me. How did we come to be together?’ His questions today lacked the accusatory tone of yesterday. He was not so much demanding answers, as honestly curious. It was as though he expected Scheherazade with a story so captivating he could not resist.

What could she tell him that would set his mind at rest? ‘You arrived in Bath, after the crocuses were finished blooming, in May,’ she said, trying to focus on a happy memory.

‘In what month did we marry?’

‘June,’ she replied. It was a fine month for weddings, real or imaginary.

‘Adam said we married in Gretna.’ He said this almost to himself, as though calculating miles between the points.

‘But we met in Bath,’ she repeated, searching for a likely story. ‘We met in a shop.’ It was true. But she could not exactly tell him it was Montague and de Bryun, Purveyors of Fine Jewellery. ‘I taught needlework, in a school for young girls. I wished to sell some of the handiworks there.’ Hadn’t that been her dream, at one time? To make a modest living with her hands.

‘What was I doing in a lady’s haberdashery?’ he said, obviously surprised.

‘You followed me there, I think,’ she said, smiling at her own carelessness for choosing such an outlandish meeting place. ‘I saw you enter the shop and everything changed.’ That was very true. But it had not been for the better.

‘You were taken with me?’ Apparently, his ego had not been damaged, for she saw the slight swell of pride.

‘You are a most handsome man.’ Again, it was truth. She remembered the little thrill of excitement she’d felt, at seeing such a dashing man enter the salon. It was followed by the crashing realisation that he was a Felkirk.

‘And what did I think of you?’

That had been obvious as well. She had introduced Mr Montague as her employer. But William Felkirk had seen the low-cut satin gowns she wore and the possessive way Montague treated her and known that her duties for the man were not limited to modelling the wares they sold. Then his lip had curled, ever so slightly, with contempt. ‘I think you felt sorry for me,’ she said, wishing it were true.

‘So I offered to rescue you from your dreary life?’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘I refused you at first,’ she embroidered. If she was to create a fairy-tale romance, there should be details. ‘I did not think your offer was quite proper.’

‘But I won you over with my charm and sincerity,’ he said with such obvious doubt that it made her laugh.

‘You took me on walks around the Crescent. We met again in the assembly rooms and tea shops. You made it clear to me that your intentions were honourable.’ Hadn’t she envied many young couples, courting in just such a way on the other side of the shop window? Sometimes she saw them later, in the showroom, admiring the rings. ‘When you made your offer, of course I accepted.’

‘Of course,’ he said dubiously. ‘But what was I doing in Bath? I loathe the place.’

This was a wrinkle she had not accounted for. ‘What were you doing in Bath? You did not say. What do most people do there? Take the waters. Attend parties.’

‘I have managed to resist such activities thus far,’ he said sceptically. ‘Why would I decide to do them now?’

‘I really have no idea. You did remark that you were bored,’ she allowed. ‘But that you liked it better, once you had met me.’

‘And then we eloped.’ He must suspect that this was unlikely. Having met his family and seen how close he was to them, she was sure, when he found the perfect wife, he would bring her to them, immediately.

‘You were unwilling to wait, even for the reading of the banns, or the time to procure a special licence. And I was...’ She took a deep breath and plunged forward with the biggest lie of all. ‘Your affections were very difficult to resist. Impossible, in fact. Afterwards, you deemed it best that we marry with all haste and inform the family afterwards.’

‘I see.’ Now he was the one who was blushing. Let him think he had taken advantage and owed her some reparation. It would be true, soon enough. He was staring at her reflection in the mirror again. ‘I do not doubt that I was insistent, once I set my cap for you. You are quite the prettiest woman I have ever seen.’

‘Thank you.’ She had grown used to accepting the words as a compliment, though they sometimes felt more like a curse. How different might her life have been had she been plain and undesirable? She might have gone unnoticed through life and kept her virtue. She certainly would not be in a ducal manor, flirting with a peer’s brother. ‘I was honoured by your attentions. I am sure there were others more appropriate for the brother of a duke, than an émigrée without family or fortune.’

He touched a finger to her lips. ‘Do not speak so about yourself. You have proven more than worthy, since the accident.’ The moment of spontaneous intimacy shocked them both and he carefully removed his hand.

‘Thank you,’ she said, wishing she could take the compliment as it was.

‘But the accident,’ he added. ‘Tell me about it.’

She gave an honest shudder at the memory of him lying broken on the floor. Then she lied again. ‘You were trying to impress me. A jump went wrong.’

‘But what of Jupiter?’

For a moment, she was completely puzzled. Was this some obsession with astronomy that she had not known? Perhaps he was the sort who thought his life was ruled by the stars. Then she realised that he was referring to the horse. What had become of the horse? She had no idea. If Montague was aware of it, he had surely sold it by now. Or perhaps it was still in a stable in Bath, waiting for its owner to return. ‘I am sorry, but his leg was broken. There was nothing that could be done...’ It was kinder that he think the animal dead, than to realise that no one had cared enough to find it.

He held up a hand and turned his face away from hers, as though unwilling to let her finish. The weight of his body sagged against his crutches, as if he could not support himself. When she reached out to steady him, and to offer comfort, she felt the shuddering sob even as he shrugged off her touch.

In a moment, he straightened and composed himself. ‘Then I deserved what I got,’ he said, in a voice full of self-disgust. ‘Taking foolish risks and putting another life in jeopardy. What the devil was I thinking to harm an animal that had been a faithful friend to me for seven years?’

If she had hoped to comfort him, she had failed completely. Felkirk was even more upset than he had been when leaving the parlour. And he grieved for a horse? When she’d met him, she had assumed that he and his family cared for nothing but their money and themselves. They certainly had not cared for her father, as he’d lain dying on their property so long ago.

But the duke and Penny had not been as she’d expected and had treated her as a long-lost sister. Now, the man in front of her was practically undone over the death of a beast. She wanted to take back the words and assure him that, somewhere, the horse was alive and well. Fine blood stock, like Jupiter probably was, would not have sold for hide and hoof to pay a stable bill.

Instead, she remained silent and let him lean upon her, as he struggled to regain his composure. ‘Do you wish me to call for Stewart?’ she said softly.

He shook his head, once, emphatically. Then he pulled himself upright and took a deep breath. ‘This is too embarrassing. But so much of my life is, it seems.’

‘It is not your fault,’ she assured him. ‘And I have seen you worse. Let me help you back to your room.’

He gave a very weak laugh as they made their way to the stairs. ‘That does nothing to console me. The last thing a man wants to be is helpless in the presence of a beautiful woman.’ He stopped for a moment and wiped a hand across his face. ‘And weeping over a horse. You must think me mad as well as crippled.’

‘The physicians did say you might not be yourself,’ she reminded him.

He gave her another wry smile. ‘It does not reassure me to hear I might run mad and no one will think twice about it. I am sorry to inform you of this, my dear. But I cannot blame a head injury on my tears over the loss of old Jupe. He was a fine horse and my truest friend. I must have told you how long we were together.’

‘I understand,’ she said, trying not to appear relieved. His upset, no matter how unjustified, had been a help. He was too busy trying to save some scrap of dignity to ask any more questions of her.

He paused, took a firm grip on the stair rail and gave another quick wipe of his eyes with the back of his hand before moving up another step. ‘All the same, I apologise. If I am still not the master of body or mind, I am unfit company. It was a mistake to inflict myself on others this evening.’

‘You cannot be expected to hide in your room for ever. And you are doing much better than yesterday,’ she added, since it was perfectly true. Now that he was awake, the speed of his recovery was impressive. ‘The family is eager to see you and will be patient.’

‘Not too patient,’ he said, wiping the last moisture from his eyes. ‘I am barely on my feet again and Adam means to put us out.’

‘No.’ She had no right to think it. Had she forgotten she was an interloper here? This was not her home and she must not think of it as such. But if she did not live here, then where was she to go?

Felkirk gave her a wan smile. ‘I said something similar, when he suggested it. But he is right. I have a home of my own, less than a mile from here.’ He paused, then said, ‘We have a home. It is where we belong. Tomorrow, you shall see.’

‘But...’ What was she to tell Montague? And how was she to tell him? There was no time to leave a signal.

They had reached the top of the stairs and Felkirk balanced carefully on a single crutch and draped his free arm about her shoulders. ‘You have nothing to worry about. Adam was right to suggest it, as you were just now. I cannot hide in my room for ever, assuming I will improve. And we cannot use the size of this place, and the presence of Adam and Penny, to hide from each other.’

Had it been so obvious that she was avoiding him? She could not think of an answer to it, so busied herself with helping him the last few feet down the hall to his room. They were standing outside the door to his sickroom. The valet was no doubt waiting inside to help him to bed. If he did not need her any longer, she could make her excuses and escape to the ground floor to tell the family that he had retired. He might be sound asleep by the time she returned. He was right that she could not avoid him for ever. But was one more night so much to ask?

She dropped her gaze to the floor and offered a curtsy. It was probably not the way a loving wife was supposed to behave. She should be warmer, bolder and unafraid to catch his eye. But when he was near like this, she could not think clearly. What was to become of her, once they were out of this house and had only each other for company? She turned away, glancing back down the hall. ‘If you do not need me any longer, I will return to the parlour and explain to the family.’

‘There is one last thing,’ he said, as though something had just occurred to him and gestured her close again, as though about to whisper.

She leaned in as well.

Then he kissed her. It was just a buss upon the lips. It was so quick and sweet that she gasped in surprise. And for a moment, her mind was calm. Not empty, as it was when she was with Montague. It was as placid as a lake on a windless day. Then she felt the faintest ripples of expectation. Was she actually hoping for another kiss?

‘Thank you, for your help. And your devotion,’ he said. There was no indication of his feelings on the matter, other than the faintest of smiles.

‘It was...’ Why could she not find her words? And why could she not draw away from him? She was leaning against him, as though she was the one who needed crutches. Montague would not have approved. He had sent her here as a seductress. He did not want her behaving like some moonstruck girl...

The second kiss that she had been hoping for came in a rush of sweetness, soft as the wing of a moth. William Felkirk braced himself against the doorframe of his room and pulled her body to him, letting the wall support them both. Then he touched his lips to hers and moved them slowly, tenderly, before closing them once, twice, three times, against her mouth.

Why did she feel so breathless? Montague would have laughed and called her a fool. But she did not want to think of him, just now. Instead, she focused on the slight cleft in the chin that hovered before her eyes as those same gentle lips kissed her forehead. There was a faint shadow there, where his valet had missed a whisker or two. She wanted to kiss him there, to trace the crease with her tongue and feel the roughness of the stubble.

She had waited too long. Felkirk was setting her back on her feet, smiling down into her face. And for the first time, she saw the easy smile and friendly nature his family assured her was his by habit. ‘You are right, my dear. You must go back to the parlour. And I must rest. Much as I would like to say otherwise, I fear there are things I am simply not yet capable of.’

He meant bed play. She did not know if it was proper for a wife to do so, but she blushed at the thought.

It made him laugh. ‘Although, with you here, looking as you do, I will pray most fervently for a return to health and strength.’

‘I will pray for you, as well,’ she agreed.

‘And pray for my memory,’ he added. ‘I cannot recall what we have meant to each other. But I am sure, once you are in my arms, it will all come back to me.’

She thought of the beads she kept in her dresser. She would tell them tonight, several times over, and hope that the quantity of prayer for a selective memory might counter anything he had asked for.

Chapter Seven

Now that William Felkirk was awake, Justine was discovering the inconveniences of married life. When he had been in a coma, there had been little question as to who made the decisions. On the rare occasions she had been overruled by the duke as to the best method to tend the invalid, it had been the result of discussion and not flat mandate. But now that he was awake, Lord Felkirk expected not just an equal share in his recovery, but the deciding vote in all matters.

After the discussion in the hall, she had hoped that there would be some time to persuade him of the need for caution before a change of location. But when she awakened the next morning, the arrangements for the move back to his own home were already in progress and would be done before noon. The valet seemed relieved to be packing up the limited supply of garments and his lord’s shaving kit. Her own garments were only slightly more troublesome, for she had brought a single trunk with her, when she’d come north. Penny offered her the use of the maid she’d had, until she was able to choose someone from her own household. The girl had already gone ahead and was probably already hanging gowns and pressing ribbons in their new home.

In the midst of the activity, William Felkirk paced the floor as though he could not wait to be under way. Though he had claimed to be reticent, he had obviously warmed to his brother’s advice and meant to act on it immediately. ‘It makes no sense to maintain a second household, less than a mile from the first,’ he said. ‘It is unfair to expect servants to fetch and carry items between the two. I have a perfectly good home, just down the road from here. I mean to live in it.’

‘But you are still so weak,’ she said. She cast a sidelong glance at the crutches in the corner and wondered if their kiss in the hallway had given him this burst of energy.

‘It is not as if I intend to walk the distance,’ he informed her. ‘A carriage ride will be no more strenuous than sitting in a Bath chair. The air of the journey will likely do me good.’

‘The doctor—’ she said plaintively.

‘—lives closer to the old manor than he does to this one. And do not tell me that the stairs will be unfamiliar, or the rooms inconvenient. It is the home I grew up in and I know each step of it. It is also a damned sight smaller than this cavernous place of my brother’s. It feels like I must walk a mile here, just to get from bed to breakfast.’

His words stopped her objections. ‘You did not always live here, in the duke’s manor?’

‘Heavens, no.’ William shook his head and smiled. ‘Mother did not like the old house at all. It had been fine for ten generations of Bellstons, but she wanted a ballroom and a grand dining hall. It is good that she did not live to see Adam nearly burn the place to the ground a few years ago. She would have been appalled. But that is another story.’

‘How long ago was that?’ she asked, trying to suppress her excitement.

‘The fire?’ he asked.

‘No. The building of the new manor.’

‘A little less than fifteen years,’ he said, taking a moment to count on his fingers. ‘In the end, it was a sensible decision. I am able to stay on the family lands without living in my brother’s pocket. The two manors are close enough to share the stables, the ice house and the gardens.’ He grinned. ‘I have all the advantages of being a duke and none of the responsibilities.’

Fifteen years. Her father had been dead for twenty. If there were clues to be had about the murder or the missing diamonds, she had been searching the wrong house for them. Surely they must be at the old manor, the place where she would soon be living.

‘I think you are probably right, then,’ she said, trying not to sound too excited. ‘A change will do you good.’ And it would give her an opportunity to search the rooms there that she had not already seen. When she found a way to get the information to him, Montague would be pacified. It would give her time to think of a next step that might keep Margot safe from his threats.

It also meant that she would be alone with her husband. There would be no duke and duchess to fill the days and evenings spent in company with him. The odds increased that his memory might return, or she would let slip some bit of the truth that could not be easily distracted by turning it to another subject.

But when darkness fell, there would be no reason for them to talk at all. As she had on the previous evening, she felt a strange anticipation, like the stillness in the air before a storm.

‘You will like it,’ he said, mistaking her silence for more understandable worries. ‘Just wait. You shall be mistress over your own home. In no time at all, you will have arranged everything to suit yourself and we shall return Adam and Penny’s hospitality.’

Her own household. What a strange idea. While she had experience in managing servants for Mr Montague, she had seen the way they looked at her, half in pity and half in disapproval, as though it pained them to take their instructions from the master’s whore. Now she was to be the lady of a manor and no one would doubt that it was her proper place. If the situation weren’t so dire, she might have been excited at the thought.

Once they were underway, it appeared that William was right about his need to make the move. As she sat in his side in the carriage, she could see his mood lightening with each turn of the wheels. He stared out the window so intently that she almost thought he was avoiding her gaze. At last, he said, ‘It is good to be coming home again. There is much about the current situation that is strange to me. Having to deal with it in my brother’s house made it no easier.’