Love Me With Fury

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CAPTIVE LOVE

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Title Page

Dedication

A MYTH

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VII

VIII

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XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

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Copyright

For

Joe and Betty Taylor,
who already know the many, many reasons why…
But, mainly for their son
Michael
who embodies each of my heroes…

“A pair of star-crossed lovers”
—
Romeo and Juliet,
William Shakespeare

Late April, 1812

Liverpool, England

“But, Papa, you don’t understand!” Alex shrieked, anxiety and dismay flooding her youthful body with dread. “How can I wed a total stranger, some strutting peacock who must ask his dolting father which way is up! I can’t!” she heatedly vowed for what seemed the hundredth time in the past seven months, her emerald eyes flashing rebellion and obstinance. Why did he insist upon ruining her life? she wondered sadly.

Lord Charles Hampton wearily shook his graying head and sighed loudly in exasperation, vexed by this now familiar battle against his only child: the beautiful, but willful Lady Alexandria. “You must control that tempestuous nature, my little spitfire. You will hear me out this time,” he stated firmly, half pleading and half demanding. He dreaded the inevitable day when he would be forced to bend her stubborn, defiant will to his own.

She jerked her tawny head upwards to meet his steady gaze, curly tresses falling enticingly around her
slender shoulders. She pouted impishly, jutting out her dainty chin to expose her irritation. Yet, her green eyes softened to the hue of newborn leaves as they lovingly caressed the striking face of her cherished father, her only parent since childhood. Hoping to halt this talk before it could continue, she quietly declared, “But there is nothing new to discuss, Papa; it has all been aired many times before. Surely we both grow weary of this same tiresome speech. I shan’t marry some boring piece of frippery. I won’t, Papa; I simply won’t!” she insisted, her silvery voice sounding a bit strained. Her father bristled immediately.

Seeing the ill effect of her rash declaration, she tempered her tremulous tone with a hint of sadness and urgency, “If you truly love me, Papa, you will never afflict such a dreadful fate upon me. I could never endure such a stifling, pretentious union… even without love. You must not press this issue if you do not wish to break my heart and chain me to some fop who will simply view me as another piece of his property. Can’t I wait for real love like you and Mama shared?” she entreated, frowning slightly when his noble features remained stern and insensitive.

“You’re nineteen years old, Alex. You have been wooed, chased, and courted by the richest and most notable lads in all of Great Britain. Yet, you’ve stubbornly and vainly refused each of them!”

She hastily injected, “That isn’t fair, Papa! What have pride and tenacity to do with a coerced marriage? Why should a woman meekly and cowardly submit to such an unjust fate?”

“We each have our destinies to fulfill, Alex. Since you were born a female, you must accept your responsibilities as one. You are not a man, and you cannot live and think as one! You have conjured up a Sir Lancelot which has blurred your vision to all else. Your choices are countless, my child. Surely there is at least one deserving man among your many suitors!” he shouted angrily.

Annoyed by his display of tension and impatience, he snapped, “You cannot continue to scorn every man and send him away! I will not allow my only daughter to become labeled a heartless haughty femme fatale who arrogantly treats titled Englishmen as beneath her! You will not become a source of gossip or ridicule!” he shouted angrily at the misty-eyed girl poised gracefully before him.

He fumed silently. Why was his bright, vivacious, normally respectful and obedient daughter behaving in this defiant, insolent manner? Such alliances were arranged every day! What had clouded her mind with these dreamy notions of love and romance? Foolish ideas which he must cruelly strike down before they became too destructive and too tempting…

Alex also fretted silently. How could she explain her innermost fears, dreams, and emotions to her aging father? How could he comprehend the desires and drives of a woman? He could never understand what it was to be a female. He had chosen his own love; why couldn’t she do the same? She was no less intelligent than a man. To Alex, his primary concern appeared to be seeing her “properly wed.” She would readily
confess to being proud and steadfast; such traits were not evil or wrong. She would also admit to her disillusionment and disappointment with the numerous men who constantly sniffed around her fashionable skirts. Fools! Dreamers! she contemptuously sneered to herself.

She had eventually grown to despise the inane banter, the subtle flirting, the false gaiety, the snobbish milksops who refused to leave her alone. Society’s rules and expectations nettled her. There had to be more to life and happiness than becoming a docile wife and selfless mother! What about her own needs and dreams? Such intense yearnings for adventure and freedom coursed through her veins! Sometimes she desperately wanted to run away in search of that forbidden, enticing destiny which called out to her in her dreams. Yet, women were wrongfully chained to compulsory roles which society placed upon them. No matter how much she craved such a life, it would be stupid and perilous to chase after it. How could she survive in a male-oriented world? How she wished she had truly been born an Alex. Then, she, too, could select her own love and destiny. Alas, it was impossible to change who and what she was: a helpless, obliging daughter…a mere female in a masculine world.

Choices, her father had claimed. She had met no man who could flutter her heart and steal her breath away, who had made her happy to be a woman. She was not a blind fool; she knew what most of those persistent suitors wanted: servile behavior, an exquisite
face and lusty body to enjoy and to flaunt; her huge wealth; and her elite status. She had yet to meet the man who was deserving of them!

She bitterly vowed that she would become no man’s lovely possession, his meek and dutiful wife, his brood mare, his legal prisoner! She knew of her compelling position as an excellent and valuable catch. Her bloodline was nearly matchless; her fortune, hefty and envious. Yet, she desired a valiant man who wanted her for herself, a man who was both strong and tender. Was that so much to expect, to demand? Was it too idealistic, too romantic?

She studied her father closely in the brooding silence. Warily she weighed the depth of his determination. How far could she push him? What wily logic could forestall her threatened fate? He seemed so adamant and the situation so hopeless. Would he honestly coerce her into a loveless marriage to some fawning duke or middle-aged lord? Naturally he would never choose some irresponsible, faint-hearted wastrel to take possession of his only child and the Hampton Estates. Yet, she could imagine none of her present suitors as an appropriate man for her husband. Still, her prominent father knew countless men and their circumstances.

A lifetime without love and fulfillment…How could he? Of all men alive, he should know the heights and rarity of love, real love between a man and a woman such as he had shared with her mother. That love had been so strong and special that he had been unable to find another woman to take her place.
Following her mother’s untimely death, he had focused his love and attention upon his only child. Their resulting relationship had been close, unselfish, and warming; now, he was about to carelessly destroy it by sending her away from him and her home, by thrusting her into a loveless marriage.

“Please, Papa,” she softly implored. “Just another year? Is that so much to ask? You’re speaking of my entire life, my daily existence until death. The social season will be opening soon in London; perhaps I’ll meet a proper young man there,” she wheedled in her velvety, persuasive tone as she had done so often in the past with her adoring, frequently too lenient, father.

Astutely reading her wily scheme to attain more time, he instantly shook his head once again. “The matter is settled, Alex. I’ll brook no more insolence or disobedience. It is past time for you to settle upon a worthy mate. Since you have failed to do so, I must accept this task myself. I hope and pray I can cull a suitable man who will meet your discriminating taste and willing approval. There are certainly plenty of prospects to winnow through. I would not find this course of action necessary if you did not persistently discourage every man who comes to call,” he chided her.

“But, Papa, a woman shouldn’t marry just any man simply to be wed before twenty! Name one of my beaux who would be compatible with me! Tell me which of my many admirers qualifies to inherit me and the Hampton holdings!” she objected.

Taken aback, he tersely snapped, “Fiddlesticks! There are hundreds of available men whom you haven’t met before. Do not allow your impetuous, fanciful nature to hinder any hope of love and happiness by denying him and your impending marriage your very best efforts,” he warned the wide-eyed girl.

“You cannot be serious, Papa! I beg you to reconsider; at least wait until this season’s over. I swear to search very thoroughly for the right man,” she promised, hoping to sway his decision to have this revolting matter over quickly.

“Right man!” he shouted impatiently. He, too, wanted this dire problem solved before it drove a wedge between them.

They had always been very close, sharing nearly every facet of their lives. But the time had come when childhood must be left behind, when her future must be settled. The numberless days which had been spent fishing, riding, hunting, and with other typically boyish activities must be put away forever. It was past time for Alex to realize she was a female—one perhaps too beautiful, too ingenuous, and too spirited for her own good. It had been foolish and wrong of him to allow her so much freedom and to constantly permit her at his side until now. For one who sounded so ensnared by love and romance, why wasn’t she out pursuing some knight and enjoying her femininity?

In all honesty, she was not wholly to blame for her unusual feelings and personality, for he had unwisely encouraged many of them. She was such a bright,
enjoyable, artless vixen. Unknowingly he had treated her as a son; now he had to force her to become a daughter.

Calling upon all of his inner strength, he declared to her, “Not all of the men you’ve met could be classed as dolting fools, vain peacocks, silly popinjays, or stupid and spineless rapscallions as you’ve proclaimed them. At least three of the bachelors and one of the widowers are notable choices. Too, there’s that French count who purchased the Wilford Estate to be seriously considered.”

“Andre DuBois? He’s a sadistic rogue! Ask your friends about him and his sexual preferences. He simply wants some high-born wife to protect his notorious image. As for James Hartley, he drove his first wife to an early grave with his harsh demands upon her. Besides, he can always marry his mistress. Who needs a husband who must spend part of his time with other women? And what about those refined bachelors…did you know I have to fight them off every time I find myself alone with any of them? They paw over me like I’m some cheap doxy. I despise them all,” she promptly and truthfully maligned each man mentioned.

“Malicious gossip cannot be taken at face value, Alex. As for your eager swains, can you fault them for being enchanted with you, perhaps overly zealous for your attention and hand? You’re just spoiled and fanciful, my dear Alexandria. I can partly blame myself for these childish, unfeminine traits. I’ve been too indulgent and generous with you. I shouldn’t have
let you traipse around the countryside dressed like a boy and acting like one. I’ve given you free rein much too long. You’re not a child or a boy; you’re a ravishing beauty with grace, charm, wit, and refinement. It’s time to leave your girlish dreams behind and to face real life,” he advised.

“But, Papa—” she began, but was interrupted.

“No more talk. In time you’ll grow to honor and love your new husband. Don’t spoil your chance for happiness with these romantic illusions and foolish notions of yours.”

“Foolish notions, Papa? Become a docile, mealymouthed wife just because I had the misfortune to be born a daughter instead of a son? Am I to have no say in my own destiny? If Mama were here now, she would never permit this outrage, this cruel injustice,” she protested miserably.

A glimmer of sadness and lingering pain filled his blue eyes. She was instantly sorry for her insensitive words. In a hoarse tone he murmured, “But she is not here with us, Alex. If she had lived, we would not be standing here discussing your forthcoming betrothal and hurling stinging insults and cruelties at each other. I have been sorely remiss in teaching you to become a woman; for that, I am truly sorry.”

“I do not mean to hurt you or to disobey you, Papa. Must it be this way?” A teardrop eased down her flushed cheek, its presence revealing her inner turmoil.

“You have your responsibilities to yourself, to me, and to your heritage. In time you will agree this
decision is for the best,” he stated with finality. “Soon, it will be done.”

There would be no changing his mind now; she was trapped like a butterfly in a spider’s web. Did he already have some frightful creature in mind? Surely not one of those he had previously mentioned! Defeated and distressed, her sadness was unavoidably replaced by anger and resentment. She bitterly scoffed, “Best for whom, Papa? Why are you suddenly so desperate to be rid of me? How much longer can I enjoy my unladylike freedom? Have you already selected some mollycoddle to take me off your hands?” Hurt by his seeming callousness, she childishly struck out at him, trying to pass some of that suffering along to him.

He noticably flinched as if she had delivered a physical blow. “I will not tolerate your disrespect and impudence, Alexandria Hampton! You possess manners, breeding, and intelligence. Use them wisely and promptly,” he warned, annoyed at having to throw his weight around with his obviously unsettled daughter. “You are far too headstrong and wild for a young lady of your standing. It’s time you realized you’re a grown woman, not some mischievous tomboy.”

“As you wish, Papa,” she replied in a frigid tone, her lovely green eyes sparkling with glacial defiance.

“It won’t be as terrible as you make it sound, child. You have but to use your beauty and wiles to have your new husband entwined around your finger,” he tenderly encouraged her, praying to soothe a few of those fears and doubts. “It isn’t uncommon for a
young lady to dread such changes in her life. Your panic and apprehensions are not rare. Face them and subdue them.”