The Cold Earl's Bride: A Historical Regency Romance Page 20

  On the journey back to London, they travelled in the carriage that had brought them there. Marcus’s horse was tied to the rear, and he sat in the driver’s seat, but after a great deal of toing and froing, he had relinquished the reins to his wife. Felicity had, under grumbling protest, taken her seat inside the coach, but Annabelle knew that the defiance was only an excuse.

  When Felicity had stumbled into the sitting room, still half asleep, she had fainted at the sight of the countess’s corpse. The shock was still too deep and had numbed her limbs so that she had seemed satisfied with a brief explanation and the subsequent soothing comfort. Annabelle sighed and snuggled closer to Marcus. She owed her sister the truth, however, the violent death of the countess could not be explained without disclosing the true circumstances of Greywood’s death. First, though, it was important to take Marcus to a doctor and try to stave off the worst.

  They had not lost much time and set off back to London as quickly as possible. The countess’s cook was gone, as was the major-domo and the coach driver.

  “I think that she sent her servants away because she knew that she would not need them anymore,” explained Marcus and slightly corrected Annabelle’s hands holding the reins. The horses fell into a steady trot. He was pale, and the jolting about caused by the rough road added significantly to his overall discomfort. Still, he appeared as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. She would never forget the fear in his eyes when he had watched the countess rush up to her. It was the most precious gift Annabelle had ever received, and she held the memory like a treasure inside her heart – despite the sorrowful circumstances.

  “What are we going to do now?” she asked. “We cannot leave the countess’s death unexplained and simply disappear. There are too many witnesses to Felicity’s and my arrival at the cottage.” Hawthorne’s suspicious face emerged in her thoughts. “Did you receive my letter? The one I wrote to you about the Runner’s visit to my parents’ house?”

  Marcus shook his head no. “Finch must have intercepted it,” he growled, and Annabelle felt how another morsel of sadness pulled at her heart. He had told her about the betrayal of the man who had been pulling the wool over his eyes while secretly working for the countess.

  It soon became clear why he had been such a willing ally to the hatred-filled woman. Marcus, together with Annabelle, searched the man’s chamber as soon as they arrived to their London townhouse. In one corner of the room, they found a small chest full of coins. The traitor had not even bothered to hide it, knowing full well that Marcus trusted him completely.

  “The countess must have spent money hand over fist in order to bring you to your knees,” Annabelle remarked. She closed the lid of the chest with a loud bang, which made her feel elusively satisfied.

  “She paid the price of it,” Marcus agreed. “When I think about what she did to deceive me… I am not just talking about the money, but also the effort, such as the house in Whitechapel.”

  Annabelle wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder. “You should not forget that she was, in a way, ill.”

  “What are you saying? Are you trying to find an excuse for a woman who would have killed you just to get to me because of what she thought I did?”

  “Not an excuse – just an explanation,” Annabelle said softly. “After all, her obsession was born out of love, you should not forget that. She must have loved Matilda very much, just as you did.”

  Marcus fell silent for a while, then he turned around, pulling Annabelle with him. When they closed the door to Finch’s chamber, he paused for a moment. “I understand what you’re trying to tell me,” he murmured. “But I sincerely hope that I would never have gone as far as she did. The countess has corrupted a great many people because of her hatred.” Marcus thought for a moment before continuing. “Madeline must have known that Finch passed all my plans to the countess.” He shook his head again. “I don’t understand how I could have been so blind all these years,” he said bewildered.

  “Oh, I understand it perfectly,” Annabelle remarked, and he turned his head to her enquiringly. “You were blind because you only had one goal…” She tried to explain what she knew, deep in her heart. “… Revenge. You did not look to your right or to your left, just like a horse with blinkers.”

  That hit him. She realised it by his clenched lips. But Annabelle was not yet finished. “I love you,” she said, not looking at him. “But you are about to make the same mistake again. Revenge is a cold pleasure, one that will slowly but surely kill you from the inside.”

  For a while, he did not say anything. Out of the corner of her eye, Annabelle saw that he was deeply in thought, which was confirmed by his frowned forehead. How handsome he was, even with the hard look on his face! How had she ever thought of him as cold and unapproachable? In fact, he was quite the opposite. He harboured deep emotions. And it was her task to reawaken the tender feelings inside him, and to… no, not to help him forget his past, but to give him a future worth living for.

  “So, what you are saying is I should let Finch and Madeline off the hook?” She heard, in his voice, that this was a path he would not take.

  “No, that is not what I am saying,” she replied and expressly emphasised the negation. “I merely think that you should not do this on your own. I believe revenge should not be your only driving force. You must come to terms with your past.”

  “And you will help me with that.”

  It was not a question, but a statement. If she had not already given her heart to him, she would have been lost this very moment, lost beyond redemption.

  “The first thing I need to do is to call in a few favours.” His voice had taken on a harsh undertone. “I will go and visit the minister as soon as I’ve had a chance to make myself look presentable and tell him everything. He will see to it that the countess’s death is to be treated for what it is – an unfortunate death that occurred in the need for our survival. He owes me that much.”

  “Can this not wait until tomorrow?” Annabelle felt the fatigue, which she had suppressed this entire time, return. Felicity had already retired to one of their guest rooms and was being well looked after. She had been sedated, and then she had seen the Countess of York die – apart from the emotional turmoil, it had been a long night and day. She had reached the limit of what was bearable.

  However, Marcus denied. “I will quickly get ready and then go and see him.” He sounded grim, very much so. “Go to bed, my love, and do not wait up for me.”

  Annabelle was suddenly filled with an indefinable feeling that shot through her entire body from the tips of her toes to her head, before it settled as one blissful tingling somewhere in the middle of her belly.

  “What did you just call me?” She felt a smile twitch at the corners of her mouth, despite everything they had faced. He returned the smile and at a stroke looked incredibly young. The grim crease between his eyebrows was gone.

  “My love,” he whispered. The tingling in her body grew so strong that it was almost too much to bear. That was what happiness felt like! “And I will say it again and again, until you are tired of hearing it.”

  “That will never happen,” Annabelle replied softly. She swallowed down the rising tears, or at least she tried, for one tell-tale tear ran down her cheek. Marcus reached out and caught the tear. For a second, both of them looked at the shimmering pearl on his fingertip. Annabelle experienced a moment of harmony in which she no longer felt like one person, but more like one half of something whole. She knew with absolute certainty that Marcus felt the same way. Gone were the barriers between them, the fears and obstacles they had both built up between them, only to see them tumbling down.

  “I will go now,” he said, but it did not sound as if he meant it seriously.

  “I will wait for you,” Annabelle replied. She did not mean that she would stay up and hold out until he returned home –home! – instead, she referred to something deeper. Something close to the real
meaning of the word love.

  She saw now that love was not the obsession that both Felicity and the countess had fallen victim to, but a trust such as that which had unfolded so unexpectedly between herself and Marcus – a certainty that the other person would always be there, regardless of whatever silly mistakes one might make.

  “I will come back,” Marcus said. He too meant more than those four words did on the surface. “My love.”

  He kissed her, swiftly and fleetingly, as if he dared not touch her any longer. She did not just watch him leave when he turned towards his room, but instead followed him as if it was the natural thing to do. Annabelle helped him to re-bandage the wound on his shoulder and sighed in relief when she saw that, against all odds, nothing had burst open.

  As he wiped the dirt from his face and was about to put on a fresh shirt, she bid him farewell and headed back to her room. Soon after, she buried her nose into the pillow and fell asleep.

  The next morning brought another surprise. While she had been sleeping, Marcus had not only visited the minister, but also spoken with Hawthorne. He had told the Bow Street Runner the truth about everything that had happened.

  She greeted the last piece of information, saying, “I thought you wanted to… well, brush everything under the carpet?” She had been awake awhile and was sitting in the parlour when he had finally returned home. Felicity, who had accompanied her, rose from her chair and excused herself under the pretence of wanting to write a letter.

  Marcus let himself fall into an armchair and gratefully closed his eyes, while Annabelle went and poured him a whiskey. She waited until he had emptied it before she sat down on the arm of his chair, wanting to be as close to him as possible. His free hand searched for hers.

  “I decided against it,” he replied. “Enough with all the lies and the secrecy.”

  “You have no idea how happy this makes me. What did Hawthorne say?”

  “He already inkled the correlations,” Marcus disclosed. “The Minister had pulled some strings earlier on and issued the orders not to investigate me as a suspect.”

  “Hawthorne indicated as much during his last visit,” she said. “It was in my letter, the one Finch had intercepted. I am sorry, in all this …” she waved her hand in a helpless gesture, “… I forgot about it. But what will he do now? Will he still try and prosecute you?”

  Marcus shook his head and set his empty glass on the side table. “He has no choice but to yield to the order from above. However, he has issued a warrant for the capture and arrest of Finch. Sooner or later they will find him. Sooner, if you ask me, since the harbours are already heavily patrolled, and Finch will try to flee the country.”

  “But,” Annabelle enquired, her head working overtime, “what will they accuse him of? After all, he shot at you, but if you testify, all the other circumstances will come to light. This can’t possibly be the plan of… the circle?” She purposefully did not say the name of the man who organised the espionage network of Great Britain but referred to the group as a whole. “This means that you and Hawthorne would be going against a direct order.”

  Marcus shrugged his shoulders. “I owe nothing to the man,” he determined. “He did not try to hold me back when I was searching for those responsible for Matilda’s death, but he did not help me either. Regarding Hawthorne…” He now sounded deep in thought. “He does not give me the impression of a man who is afraid of the authorities. If you ask me, he is the extramarital scion of a member of the upper class and enjoys a certain protection.”

  That makes sense, Annabelle thought. The Bow Street Runner, who had impressed her against her better judgement, was not a man who was easily scared or whose quest for justice could be turned aside. “I am glad that he did not turn into one of our enemies,” she admitted, and felt Marcus tighten his grip on her hand as he pulled her closer towards him.

  “How is your sister faring?” Marcus asked. He did not let her go, so Annabelle leaned closer against him, even though it was conducive to her concentration. His mention of Felicity brought back a worry that had gnawed at her.

  “She is doing well, given the circumstances,” she answered. “If you agree, I would like to keep her with me for a little while longer. She is not yet over Greywood’s death, even though she claims she is.” He nodded. “You protected her for me, did you not? When you dragged Greywood’s body into this house?”

  His only answer was another nod, which was all Annabelle would get from him. But more was not necessary. “I cannot wish for a better husband than you,” she whispered, which led him to break his silence.

  “I had something to make up for,” he replied.

  Annabelle frowned. “How so?”

  “I am sorry that I distrusted you all this time,” he explained. “You did nothing to deserve the treatment I showed you, and in reality, I did everything to push your love away. Therefore–” he tried to lighten his voice but failed, “I did everything in my power to protect your sister. As I should have done right from the start with you.”

  “You do not need to earn my love, my dear,” Annabelle replied. The words left her lips so easily. “I give it to you freely, just as I do my heart and soul.”

  “It is the most precious gift a man could wish for,” Marcus said, so quietly that she had to listen carefully to understand his words. “And I love you, my dearest, my beloved Annabelle. Until the end of my days.” He took her face in his hands and caressed her lips with his. “Perhaps we should go away for a while. We could say it was an overdue honeymoon. We could travel to Italy or Greece.”

  “Is it not a little too late for that?” She smiled softly.

  He kissed her again. “It is never too late for a new beginning.”

  As Annabelle walked towards him on the arm of her father, his heart wanted to burst with sheer happiness and pride.

  It was not a real wedding, since they had already been married, but the vicar had agreed to a renewal of the marriage vows.

  “I will be happy to oblige. How long have the two of you been married?” he had asked. When Marcus answered his question, the man’s brows had shot upwards. “Oh, very well then. If circumstances require it, and above all, if you are sincere about it, then I will be happy to do it, my Lord.”

  Annabelle did not wear a veil, as he had requested. He wanted to see her face as she walked towards him. What he saw was absolute and unconditional love, such as he had never believed to see again. Her green eyes sparkled brighter than any of the emerald jewellery she wore.

  He was a most fortunate man. Not only was she incredibly beautiful, but she was also smart. She was strong enough to confront him, when it was necessary, and she would never betray him.

  Her father, who had still not forgiven him, stared at him defiantly, as he laid his daughter’s hand into Marcus’s. One day, he would also overcome this obstacle. But not today. This moment belonged to Marcus and the wife he loved so dearly.

  He leaned down to her, and as his lips met hers, he enjoyed the blissful moment of love. He loved her. And she loved him. Her lips on his felt so soft, so tender, that he could have lost himself forever in that one touch. The love he felt for her was wild and passionate, and yet so moving, like he had never dreamed possible. He wanted to protect her and guard her from all the evil in the world. But unlike Matilda, who would always have a place in his heart, Marcus knew that Annabelle was strong enough to stand her ground in any situation.

  He felt how Annabelle leaned towards him, like a flower tilting its head towards the sun. He felt her strength and her love for him like a golden band, which would forever connect them.

  He would never ever let her go again.

  Nothing would ever tear them apart.

  THE END

  Dear Readers,

  The misfortune and drama we experience often opens our eyes to beauty and true love, which does not always come with a charming countenance. Are you also curious about the fate that awaits Lady Felicity Carlisle?

  In the bo
ok “No Lord Desired”, Lady Felicity knows exactly what she does not want, which is some superficial lord, for whom she would be nothing but a piece of property.

  But before she gives in to the pressure of her parents, and marries, she has a frightening problem to solve. Lady Felicity is being blackmailed.

  She cannot confide in anyone else but him – a masked stranger known as ‘the priest’, the fiercest fighter in the city. Nobody has ever seen his face. When she asks for help, he decides to stand by her side.

  But how will Lady Felicity react when she finds out who the man behind the mask really is?

  In my new book, you will find everything you expect in a suspenseful Regency romance novel: plenty of romance, a courageous lady, and a handsome man, who is prepared to do anything for the woman of his heart. Look forward to the next exciting Recency romance novel in the same series titled: “No Lord Desired”.

  Find a reading sample on the next pages.

  Would you like to stay up to date, getting notified as soon as the next book in the series is published? If your answer is yes, then please sign up for Audrey Ashwood’s mailing list. You will receive a short email as soon as the next novel is available on Amazon. That way you won’t miss out on any new book releases.

  Warmest greetings,

  Audrey Ashwood

  Sneak Peek: No Lord Desired

  A gentleman of noble descent.

  A young woman who has renounced all noblemen.

  A secret that may change everything.

  Lady Felicity knows exactly what she does not want. Since she was bitterly betrayed by a noble, she has vowed to stay away from any blue-blooded man. Even for Lord Layton, one of London’s most sought-after bachelors, she feels nothing but disdain, even though both families would favour a marriage between them.