The Earl's Runaway Governess, page 24
Henry did not reply.
Marianne turned to Mr Mason. ‘What of Henry’s guardianship of me?’
Mr Mason’s brow creased. ‘That, too, ends on the day you come of age.’
Marianne nodded, relief flooding through her. She turned to her stepbrother, furious. Now she could say what she truly wished to say. ‘You only needed me to believe that document was valid. I would not have had the knowledge or the resources to fight you in court. I did not even know about my father’s legacy to me.’
Henry’s gaze shifted away. ‘Be quiet, Marianne!’ he spluttered. ‘I have heard enough!’ He stepped towards her. ‘I am leaving, and I am taking my ward with me!’
He reached out and gripped Marianne’s left arm. Instinctively, knowing that she had friends in the room, Marianne struggled. Henry grabbed the sleeve of her ball gown with his other hand and pulled her towards him. Marianne resisted and the dress tore at the shoulder.
It all happened in a flash. One moment Marianne was struggling with Henry, the next her stepbrother was lying on his back, having been floored by a superb punch from Ash. Marianne looked from one to the other blankly. Had that really just happened? Had someone hit Henry for her sake? Had Ash hit Henry for her sake?
Ash, his face pale with anger, leaned over Henry. ‘Get up, you piece of filth! And if you ever lay a hand on her again you will answer to me!’
Henry scuttled backwards on the floor. ‘I believe you have broken my nose!’ he exclaimed petulantly, pulling a large handkerchief from his pocket. Sure enough, blood was beginning to flow. He scrambled to his feet, being careful to stay out of range of another blow. ‘And you have no legal rights over my sister! It is I who is her guardian!’
Marianne looked around the room at the others. No one could deny this. Not yet.
Ash turned towards her. His eyes swept over her, coming to rest on her exposed shoulder. ‘What is this?’
His hand gently touched the uncovered skin, creating a wondrous tingle that spread throughout Marianne’s body. Dimly she knew that this was an inappropriate reaction, given the situation, but her senses were heedless to common sense.
‘Oh, my dear!’ Lady Annesley bustled forward. ‘It is a recent bruise. Has he been abusing you?’
For answer, Marianne removed her left glove. Clearly outlined on her arm were a series of fingertip-shaped bruises, where Henry had grasped her earlier.
‘The one on my shoulder is from the glass that he threw at me yesterday.’ She looked at Ash. ‘He was careful to hurt me only in places where the bruises could be hidden.’
Ash’s face turned grim and he strode across to Henry. ‘Mr Grant’, he said, his tone deceptively cordial, ‘I declare you a coward, an extortionist, an abuser of women, and a man who writes IOUs that he has no way of honouring.’
Henry blanched.
Ash slapped his face—hard. ‘You may name your seconds!’
‘A duel!’ breathed Lady Annesley. ‘I do not normally approve of such things, but occasionally nothing else will do.’ She turned to Henry. ‘Mr Grant, you are no longer welcome in this house. And I mean to ensure that your true character, your wickedness, is widely known.’
With this pronouncement, given Lady Annesley’s position in society, Henry’s reputation was lost.
In the background, the ormolu clock began to strike midnight.
Henry’s face twisted in a sneer. ‘You may do what you will, for I care not! London holds nothing for me any more! Come, Marianne!’
Ash took a step forward.
‘Do not seek to interfere between a guardian and his legal ward,’ Henry snarled.
Ash, frustration etched into his face, paused.
‘Wait!’ Marianne found her voice. ‘Mr Mason, you say that when I come of age Henry will no longer be my guardian?’
‘That is correct.’ His eyes narrowed.
‘And does there need to be any legal process in order for me to be free of his guardianship?’
Mr Mason shook his head. ‘It is automatic, as soon as you turn twenty-one.’
Marianne’s heart was thumping loudly. ‘I did wonder about that... I hoped that tonight... Then—I am free!’
They all regarded her quizzically.
She indicated the clock. ‘As of this moment, it is my twenty-first birthday!’
‘But how wonderful!’ declared Lady Annesley, clapping her hands.
Mr Mason’s lined face broke out in a smile. ‘I knew the date could not be far off, but I confess I had not recently checked. I was just relieved to have found you—’
He broke off, his eyebrows lifting, as Marianne was bundled into a rough hug by Ash.
‘Dash it all, Marianne!’ Ash muttered incoherently.
His arms swept around her, giving her the benefit of his warmth, his delicious scent and his nearness, yet he was careful not to hold her too tightly.
After a moment he pulled back to look into her eyes. He did not speak, but Marianne saw with wonder that a tear was making its way down his cheek. She reached up with her gloveless hand to catch it, and he turned his head slightly to kiss her fingers.
‘Ahem!’
A polite cough brought them back to the room. Lady Annesley was gazing at them fondly. Mr Mason looked disconcerted. Of Henry there was no sign, but the door was ajar.
‘Apologies!’ said Ash huskily. ‘Mr Mason, I thank you for your diligence in searching for Miss Grant. But now I need to speak with her alone.’
‘Of course you do!’ said Lady Annesley. ‘For I interrupted you earlier. Mind, you can only take a few moments—I must return with you to the ballroom shortly or there will be talk.’
She smiled.
‘Miss Grant, I see that you are a well-bred young woman, and that you have been much put-upon. I do not know if my offer will be welcome, but I shall make it, regardless. You are welcome to live here with me for as long as you wish.’ She sent a sly glance towards Ash. ‘Or, more accurately, for as long as you and Ash need to organise your wedding!’
‘Oh, thank you so much, Lady Annesley! But—’
Wedding? Marianne’s mind was awhirl—so much so that she could barely think straight.
Her hostess bundled Mr Mason out of the room, extracting a promise from him in the process that he should return on the morrow. They shut the door behind them.
Instantly Ash and Marianne turned to each other, their lips meeting in a kiss of such passion, such love, such tenderness, that Marianne found her head spinning and her knees going soft. Her soul was soaring, her heart swelling so much that she believed it might burst, and her fevered mind was lost somewhere in a fog of happiness and physical desire.
‘Marry me?’ Ash seemed similarly afflicted, his voice husky as the words seemed to erupt from him.
‘Yes!’ she replied. ‘Yes, and yes, and yes!’
‘Oh, Marianne! How I love you! When you disappeared from Ledbury House I was bereft. I was so hurt that you seemed to be a fake and a deceiver, for truly I have not loved before!’
She smoothed his hair back from his brow, marvelling that she was now permitted to do so, that he was now—miraculously—hers. ‘What of Lady Kingswood? I have heard that you loved her before her marriage.’
She knew before he spoke what his answer would be. ‘The calf love of an eighteen-year-old moonling—no more!’
Since this was exactly the conclusion she herself had reached about his relationship with Fanny, she did not pursue it. She was sure he had no notion of the rumours Fanny was circulating about his future intentions. No doubt Lady Kingswood would be most displeased when Ash married Cecily’s governess, but at this moment Marianne cared not.
He went on. ‘Truly, I had no notion of what love was until you arrived and bewitched me with your warm heart, your lively mind and your beautiful soul. I am yours, Marianne, whether you will have me or not. And Ledbury House is empty without you.’
‘I have already said I will have you. I wish nothing more than to be your wife.’ She smiled at him through her tears. ‘I love you, Ash.’
He groaned and kissed her again.
After a few moments, he raised his head to say, ‘First you were Miss Bolton, and I loved you. Then you were Marianne, and I was angry with you. Tonight you became Miss Grant, and I found you once more. But soon you will be Lady Kingswood, and we will never be apart again.’
‘Never!’ she affirmed, and it felt like a vow.
She reached up with both hands and pulled him close for another kiss.
‘Never.’
Epilogue
The new Lord and Lady Kingswood had decided not to have a honeymoon, but instead to travel directly from the simple wedding breakfast to their country home—Ledbury House. The bride wore an elegant wedding gown in dove-grey silk, topped with a stylish ribboned bonnet, and the groom—whom many had said would never marry—a coat of blue superfine which showed his athletic figure to advantage.
Their witnesses, Lady Annesley and Lord Kingswood’s astonished friend Barny, congratulated them warmly as they entered their carriage to depart from London. The bride had been a guest of Lady Annesley for nigh on six months, and the wedding had been a quiet one, given the tragic circumstances.
Everyone knew that the bride’s stepbrother, Mr Henry Grant, had died in a dreadful carriage accident on his way home from Lady Annesley’s ball in April—more or less at the same time as his stepsister and Lord Kingswood had been causing speculation by sharing adoring glances while dancing together.
It was said that Mr Grant had been driving his carriage at breakneck speed, and with a good deal of drink taken, when he had rounded the corner at Piccadilly much too quickly, overturned the carriage and broken his neck. It had not been his first accident, and those who had known him had shaken their heads at the news, commenting sagely that they had known all along that it would be the death of him. No one had expressed surprise.
Of course no wedding could take place while Miss Grant was in mourning, so today—the six-month anniversary of Mr Grant’s death, and the first date on which it became acceptable—the quietest of weddings had been contracted in St George’s Church in Hanover Square.
‘Finally!’ Ash said fervently as the carriage began to move through the streets of the capital.
He reached for his bride and they enjoyed a long, enthusiastic kiss.
Marianne sighed in happiness. ‘Finally!’ she echoed.
Their love for each other, so long denied, had strengthened during their long betrothal. They had spoken at length, and on many occasions, about the misunderstandings that had separated them prior to Lady Annesley’s ball, and of the depth of feeling that each held for the other.
Ash smiled. ‘Do you mean finally we are married?’
Marianne kissed him softly. ‘I do.’
‘And do you mean finally you will return to Ledbury House?’
He trailed a line of light kisses along her jaw. She tilted her head and he accepted the invitation to kiss her neck. She quivered.
‘Mmm, yes...that as well. It was good to see Mrs Bailey and Jane and Mr Cronin when they came to London, and it is always good to see Cecily, but Ledbury House is my home and I cannot wait to live there again. But...’ Her voice tailed off as he reached her earlobe.
A long moment later, he prompted her again. ‘But...?’ His lips traced a path along her cheek.
‘But that is not what I meant.’ Marianne’s voice cracked a little.
‘Tell me what you meant.’ There was a smile in his voice.
‘I meant—’ she took a breath ‘—that finally I will share your bed.’
‘Marianne!’
His mouth swooped on hers and they kissed ferociously, all the pent-up longing of six months finally being given freedom.
When they eventually separated both were breathless and flushed with desire. By mutual agreement Marianne shifted from Ash’s knee onto the seat beside him. He groaned as she did so, but contented himself with taking her hand and kissing it.
‘I wish we could have had this night many months ago, but we both know why it was better to wait.’
She nodded. ‘The last thing we wanted was for me to end up with child a full six months before our wedding. Still, I have learned much about you—and about a man’s desire—these past months.’
He chuckled. ‘The Marianne of old would not have dared talk of such matters without blushing. And, yes, we have done almost everything save the deed itself. But never in a bed...and never with the luxury of sleeping in each other’s arms afterwards.’
They grinned at each other at the thought of the night to come.
Yet as the carriage continued on towards Ledbury House—the home they would make together—Marianne’s thoughts shifted beyond the night ahead to the months and years they would enjoy together. She could never have hoped for such happiness.
I was strong, Mama, she thought, and love came to me. I am loved again, Mama. I am loved.
* * *
If you enjoyed this story check out
The Chadcombe Marriages miniseries
by Catherine Tinley
Waltzing with the Earl
The Captain’s Disgraced Lady
The Makings of a Lady
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Scandalous Suffragette by Eliza Redgold.
Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!
Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards
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We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Historical.
You dream of wicked rakes, gorgeous Highlanders, muscled Viking warriors and rugged Wild West cowboys from another era. Harlequin Historical has them all! Emotionally intense stories set across many time periods.
Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Historical every month!
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The Scandalous Suffragette
by Eliza Redgold
Chapter One
‘The Sun will run his orbit, and the Moon
Her circle. Wait, and Love himself will bring
The drooping flower of knowledge changed to fruit
Of wisdom.’
‘Upon my brain, my senses, and my soul!’
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson: ‘Love and Duty’ (1842)
‘What the blazes are you doing?’
Violet peered down from the edge of the first-floor balcony and managed not to lose her footing. Her perch was precarious as she attempted to tie the banner across the balustrade. She hadn’t knotted either end yet, the banner still clutched in her tense fingers. It would have been much easier by daylight, and from the inside of the balcony, but there was no hope of that. It didn’t help being shouted at from down in the street.
‘What are you doing up there?’ he shouted again.
In the dim street lighting Violet couldn’t make out the man’s face. All she could see was a tall figure clad in a dark coat. ‘It’s none of your concern, thank you!’
‘Of course it’s my concern!’ the man roared. ‘That’s my balcony you’re dangling from!’
‘What?’ Violet let go of the banner and shrieked. ‘Oh! My banner!’
The purple-, green-and-white-striped banner floated away. Leaning out to catch it, she lost her footing on the edge of the stone balcony and tumbled down.
Like lightning the man below jumped. ‘Damnation!’
Violet landed in his outstretched arms. ‘Oh!’
From the cradle of his arms she stared up at him. She saw him properly now, from the gaslight coming from over her shoulder. His hair was dark, falling over his brow. His eyes were a deep blue, so deep they seemed almost black. He was younger than she would have expected from the authority of his voice as he called up to her, but care grooved his mouth, shadowed his eyes.
None of it detracted from him being one of the most handsome men Violet had ever seen.
Time stilled. Clutched in his strong arms, her breathing slowed. Beneath her tight bodice her chest heaved. He, too, took her in, his gaze sweeping over her brown hair that had slipped free from her chignon in the fall, curls whispering around her neck. He scanned her wide brow, her full cheeks that she knew were too plump for fashion. His midnight eyes searched her blue ones that she knew must be wide with shock.
She parted her lips to speak. His gaze shifted from her eyes to her mouth.
Then he plonked her upright on the cobbles.
‘No thanks, then, for rescuing you,’ he said caustically.
‘I’ve lost my banner!’
‘Your banner! You nearly lost your life!’
Violet straightened her spine. ‘I’d give my life for the Cause.’
‘The Cause. You’re one of those damned suffragettes!’
‘I’m proud to be,’ Violet said hotly. ‘And there’s no need to swear.’
‘I’ll do what I damned well like!’
‘And so will I!’ She stamped her boot.
Marianne turned to Mr Mason. ‘What of Henry’s guardianship of me?’
Mr Mason’s brow creased. ‘That, too, ends on the day you come of age.’
Marianne nodded, relief flooding through her. She turned to her stepbrother, furious. Now she could say what she truly wished to say. ‘You only needed me to believe that document was valid. I would not have had the knowledge or the resources to fight you in court. I did not even know about my father’s legacy to me.’
Henry’s gaze shifted away. ‘Be quiet, Marianne!’ he spluttered. ‘I have heard enough!’ He stepped towards her. ‘I am leaving, and I am taking my ward with me!’
He reached out and gripped Marianne’s left arm. Instinctively, knowing that she had friends in the room, Marianne struggled. Henry grabbed the sleeve of her ball gown with his other hand and pulled her towards him. Marianne resisted and the dress tore at the shoulder.
It all happened in a flash. One moment Marianne was struggling with Henry, the next her stepbrother was lying on his back, having been floored by a superb punch from Ash. Marianne looked from one to the other blankly. Had that really just happened? Had someone hit Henry for her sake? Had Ash hit Henry for her sake?
Ash, his face pale with anger, leaned over Henry. ‘Get up, you piece of filth! And if you ever lay a hand on her again you will answer to me!’
Henry scuttled backwards on the floor. ‘I believe you have broken my nose!’ he exclaimed petulantly, pulling a large handkerchief from his pocket. Sure enough, blood was beginning to flow. He scrambled to his feet, being careful to stay out of range of another blow. ‘And you have no legal rights over my sister! It is I who is her guardian!’
Marianne looked around the room at the others. No one could deny this. Not yet.
Ash turned towards her. His eyes swept over her, coming to rest on her exposed shoulder. ‘What is this?’
His hand gently touched the uncovered skin, creating a wondrous tingle that spread throughout Marianne’s body. Dimly she knew that this was an inappropriate reaction, given the situation, but her senses were heedless to common sense.
‘Oh, my dear!’ Lady Annesley bustled forward. ‘It is a recent bruise. Has he been abusing you?’
For answer, Marianne removed her left glove. Clearly outlined on her arm were a series of fingertip-shaped bruises, where Henry had grasped her earlier.
‘The one on my shoulder is from the glass that he threw at me yesterday.’ She looked at Ash. ‘He was careful to hurt me only in places where the bruises could be hidden.’
Ash’s face turned grim and he strode across to Henry. ‘Mr Grant’, he said, his tone deceptively cordial, ‘I declare you a coward, an extortionist, an abuser of women, and a man who writes IOUs that he has no way of honouring.’
Henry blanched.
Ash slapped his face—hard. ‘You may name your seconds!’
‘A duel!’ breathed Lady Annesley. ‘I do not normally approve of such things, but occasionally nothing else will do.’ She turned to Henry. ‘Mr Grant, you are no longer welcome in this house. And I mean to ensure that your true character, your wickedness, is widely known.’
With this pronouncement, given Lady Annesley’s position in society, Henry’s reputation was lost.
In the background, the ormolu clock began to strike midnight.
Henry’s face twisted in a sneer. ‘You may do what you will, for I care not! London holds nothing for me any more! Come, Marianne!’
Ash took a step forward.
‘Do not seek to interfere between a guardian and his legal ward,’ Henry snarled.
Ash, frustration etched into his face, paused.
‘Wait!’ Marianne found her voice. ‘Mr Mason, you say that when I come of age Henry will no longer be my guardian?’
‘That is correct.’ His eyes narrowed.
‘And does there need to be any legal process in order for me to be free of his guardianship?’
Mr Mason shook his head. ‘It is automatic, as soon as you turn twenty-one.’
Marianne’s heart was thumping loudly. ‘I did wonder about that... I hoped that tonight... Then—I am free!’
They all regarded her quizzically.
She indicated the clock. ‘As of this moment, it is my twenty-first birthday!’
‘But how wonderful!’ declared Lady Annesley, clapping her hands.
Mr Mason’s lined face broke out in a smile. ‘I knew the date could not be far off, but I confess I had not recently checked. I was just relieved to have found you—’
He broke off, his eyebrows lifting, as Marianne was bundled into a rough hug by Ash.
‘Dash it all, Marianne!’ Ash muttered incoherently.
His arms swept around her, giving her the benefit of his warmth, his delicious scent and his nearness, yet he was careful not to hold her too tightly.
After a moment he pulled back to look into her eyes. He did not speak, but Marianne saw with wonder that a tear was making its way down his cheek. She reached up with her gloveless hand to catch it, and he turned his head slightly to kiss her fingers.
‘Ahem!’
A polite cough brought them back to the room. Lady Annesley was gazing at them fondly. Mr Mason looked disconcerted. Of Henry there was no sign, but the door was ajar.
‘Apologies!’ said Ash huskily. ‘Mr Mason, I thank you for your diligence in searching for Miss Grant. But now I need to speak with her alone.’
‘Of course you do!’ said Lady Annesley. ‘For I interrupted you earlier. Mind, you can only take a few moments—I must return with you to the ballroom shortly or there will be talk.’
She smiled.
‘Miss Grant, I see that you are a well-bred young woman, and that you have been much put-upon. I do not know if my offer will be welcome, but I shall make it, regardless. You are welcome to live here with me for as long as you wish.’ She sent a sly glance towards Ash. ‘Or, more accurately, for as long as you and Ash need to organise your wedding!’
‘Oh, thank you so much, Lady Annesley! But—’
Wedding? Marianne’s mind was awhirl—so much so that she could barely think straight.
Her hostess bundled Mr Mason out of the room, extracting a promise from him in the process that he should return on the morrow. They shut the door behind them.
Instantly Ash and Marianne turned to each other, their lips meeting in a kiss of such passion, such love, such tenderness, that Marianne found her head spinning and her knees going soft. Her soul was soaring, her heart swelling so much that she believed it might burst, and her fevered mind was lost somewhere in a fog of happiness and physical desire.
‘Marry me?’ Ash seemed similarly afflicted, his voice husky as the words seemed to erupt from him.
‘Yes!’ she replied. ‘Yes, and yes, and yes!’
‘Oh, Marianne! How I love you! When you disappeared from Ledbury House I was bereft. I was so hurt that you seemed to be a fake and a deceiver, for truly I have not loved before!’
She smoothed his hair back from his brow, marvelling that she was now permitted to do so, that he was now—miraculously—hers. ‘What of Lady Kingswood? I have heard that you loved her before her marriage.’
She knew before he spoke what his answer would be. ‘The calf love of an eighteen-year-old moonling—no more!’
Since this was exactly the conclusion she herself had reached about his relationship with Fanny, she did not pursue it. She was sure he had no notion of the rumours Fanny was circulating about his future intentions. No doubt Lady Kingswood would be most displeased when Ash married Cecily’s governess, but at this moment Marianne cared not.
He went on. ‘Truly, I had no notion of what love was until you arrived and bewitched me with your warm heart, your lively mind and your beautiful soul. I am yours, Marianne, whether you will have me or not. And Ledbury House is empty without you.’
‘I have already said I will have you. I wish nothing more than to be your wife.’ She smiled at him through her tears. ‘I love you, Ash.’
He groaned and kissed her again.
After a few moments, he raised his head to say, ‘First you were Miss Bolton, and I loved you. Then you were Marianne, and I was angry with you. Tonight you became Miss Grant, and I found you once more. But soon you will be Lady Kingswood, and we will never be apart again.’
‘Never!’ she affirmed, and it felt like a vow.
She reached up with both hands and pulled him close for another kiss.
‘Never.’
Epilogue
The new Lord and Lady Kingswood had decided not to have a honeymoon, but instead to travel directly from the simple wedding breakfast to their country home—Ledbury House. The bride wore an elegant wedding gown in dove-grey silk, topped with a stylish ribboned bonnet, and the groom—whom many had said would never marry—a coat of blue superfine which showed his athletic figure to advantage.
Their witnesses, Lady Annesley and Lord Kingswood’s astonished friend Barny, congratulated them warmly as they entered their carriage to depart from London. The bride had been a guest of Lady Annesley for nigh on six months, and the wedding had been a quiet one, given the tragic circumstances.
Everyone knew that the bride’s stepbrother, Mr Henry Grant, had died in a dreadful carriage accident on his way home from Lady Annesley’s ball in April—more or less at the same time as his stepsister and Lord Kingswood had been causing speculation by sharing adoring glances while dancing together.
It was said that Mr Grant had been driving his carriage at breakneck speed, and with a good deal of drink taken, when he had rounded the corner at Piccadilly much too quickly, overturned the carriage and broken his neck. It had not been his first accident, and those who had known him had shaken their heads at the news, commenting sagely that they had known all along that it would be the death of him. No one had expressed surprise.
Of course no wedding could take place while Miss Grant was in mourning, so today—the six-month anniversary of Mr Grant’s death, and the first date on which it became acceptable—the quietest of weddings had been contracted in St George’s Church in Hanover Square.
‘Finally!’ Ash said fervently as the carriage began to move through the streets of the capital.
He reached for his bride and they enjoyed a long, enthusiastic kiss.
Marianne sighed in happiness. ‘Finally!’ she echoed.
Their love for each other, so long denied, had strengthened during their long betrothal. They had spoken at length, and on many occasions, about the misunderstandings that had separated them prior to Lady Annesley’s ball, and of the depth of feeling that each held for the other.
Ash smiled. ‘Do you mean finally we are married?’
Marianne kissed him softly. ‘I do.’
‘And do you mean finally you will return to Ledbury House?’
He trailed a line of light kisses along her jaw. She tilted her head and he accepted the invitation to kiss her neck. She quivered.
‘Mmm, yes...that as well. It was good to see Mrs Bailey and Jane and Mr Cronin when they came to London, and it is always good to see Cecily, but Ledbury House is my home and I cannot wait to live there again. But...’ Her voice tailed off as he reached her earlobe.
A long moment later, he prompted her again. ‘But...?’ His lips traced a path along her cheek.
‘But that is not what I meant.’ Marianne’s voice cracked a little.
‘Tell me what you meant.’ There was a smile in his voice.
‘I meant—’ she took a breath ‘—that finally I will share your bed.’
‘Marianne!’
His mouth swooped on hers and they kissed ferociously, all the pent-up longing of six months finally being given freedom.
When they eventually separated both were breathless and flushed with desire. By mutual agreement Marianne shifted from Ash’s knee onto the seat beside him. He groaned as she did so, but contented himself with taking her hand and kissing it.
‘I wish we could have had this night many months ago, but we both know why it was better to wait.’
She nodded. ‘The last thing we wanted was for me to end up with child a full six months before our wedding. Still, I have learned much about you—and about a man’s desire—these past months.’
He chuckled. ‘The Marianne of old would not have dared talk of such matters without blushing. And, yes, we have done almost everything save the deed itself. But never in a bed...and never with the luxury of sleeping in each other’s arms afterwards.’
They grinned at each other at the thought of the night to come.
Yet as the carriage continued on towards Ledbury House—the home they would make together—Marianne’s thoughts shifted beyond the night ahead to the months and years they would enjoy together. She could never have hoped for such happiness.
I was strong, Mama, she thought, and love came to me. I am loved again, Mama. I am loved.
* * *
If you enjoyed this story check out
The Chadcombe Marriages miniseries
by Catherine Tinley
Waltzing with the Earl
The Captain’s Disgraced Lady
The Makings of a Lady
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Scandalous Suffragette by Eliza Redgold.
Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!
Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Historical.
You dream of wicked rakes, gorgeous Highlanders, muscled Viking warriors and rugged Wild West cowboys from another era. Harlequin Historical has them all! Emotionally intense stories set across many time periods.
Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Historical every month!
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
Join Harlequin My Rewards and reward the book lover in you!
Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever and whenever you shop.
Turn your points into FREE BOOKS of your choice
OR
EXCLUSIVE GIFTS from your favorite authors or series.
Click here to join for FREE
Or visit us online to register at
www.HarlequinMyRewards.com
Harlequin My Rewards is a free program (no fees) without any commitments or obligations.
The Scandalous Suffragette
by Eliza Redgold
Chapter One
‘The Sun will run his orbit, and the Moon
Her circle. Wait, and Love himself will bring
The drooping flower of knowledge changed to fruit
Of wisdom.’
‘Upon my brain, my senses, and my soul!’
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson: ‘Love and Duty’ (1842)
‘What the blazes are you doing?’
Violet peered down from the edge of the first-floor balcony and managed not to lose her footing. Her perch was precarious as she attempted to tie the banner across the balustrade. She hadn’t knotted either end yet, the banner still clutched in her tense fingers. It would have been much easier by daylight, and from the inside of the balcony, but there was no hope of that. It didn’t help being shouted at from down in the street.
‘What are you doing up there?’ he shouted again.
In the dim street lighting Violet couldn’t make out the man’s face. All she could see was a tall figure clad in a dark coat. ‘It’s none of your concern, thank you!’
‘Of course it’s my concern!’ the man roared. ‘That’s my balcony you’re dangling from!’
‘What?’ Violet let go of the banner and shrieked. ‘Oh! My banner!’
The purple-, green-and-white-striped banner floated away. Leaning out to catch it, she lost her footing on the edge of the stone balcony and tumbled down.
Like lightning the man below jumped. ‘Damnation!’
Violet landed in his outstretched arms. ‘Oh!’
From the cradle of his arms she stared up at him. She saw him properly now, from the gaslight coming from over her shoulder. His hair was dark, falling over his brow. His eyes were a deep blue, so deep they seemed almost black. He was younger than she would have expected from the authority of his voice as he called up to her, but care grooved his mouth, shadowed his eyes.
None of it detracted from him being one of the most handsome men Violet had ever seen.
Time stilled. Clutched in his strong arms, her breathing slowed. Beneath her tight bodice her chest heaved. He, too, took her in, his gaze sweeping over her brown hair that had slipped free from her chignon in the fall, curls whispering around her neck. He scanned her wide brow, her full cheeks that she knew were too plump for fashion. His midnight eyes searched her blue ones that she knew must be wide with shock.
She parted her lips to speak. His gaze shifted from her eyes to her mouth.
Then he plonked her upright on the cobbles.
‘No thanks, then, for rescuing you,’ he said caustically.
‘I’ve lost my banner!’
‘Your banner! You nearly lost your life!’
Violet straightened her spine. ‘I’d give my life for the Cause.’
‘The Cause. You’re one of those damned suffragettes!’
‘I’m proud to be,’ Violet said hotly. ‘And there’s no need to swear.’
‘I’ll do what I damned well like!’
‘And so will I!’ She stamped her boot.
