My Lord Wicked (Historical Regency Romance) (25 page)

Once the door was closed behind Eason, Stacks poured himself another glass of brandy. There was no way he could sleep tonight. He still reeled from the stunning, albeit joyous, revelation that Freddie loved him. When she had admitted her love, it was as if a heavy dark cloud lifted from over his head. In a flash of blinding realization, he knew he had loved her for some time, the way a man loves a woman. And now it was nothing to be ashamed of.

He thought back, trying to remember when he began to feel such deep attachment toward her and realized he had sensed something special in her since the first day. Yet there was no magic moment he could point to and say
that is when I knew I loved her
. It was as if he loved everything about her. Each day he loved her a little more than he had the day before. Had she felt the same way?

He wished she were here in the library with him now. He remembered the torturing bliss of their kiss today and longed to feel her in his arms this very minute. He wondered what she was doing. Was she lying in her bed thinking of him? He listened to the lonely howl of the winds. Was she hearing the same lonesome sound?

More than anything on earth, he wanted to be able to lie beside her, to make her his wife. But that he could never do. He had already killed one woman he loved.

He thought of his lovely Elizabeth and for the first time in his life knew that he had not really loved her. Not like he loved Freddie. He took another drink of brandy and tried to remember Elizabeth and how he had felt about her. All Elizabeth possessed was beauty. Freddie offered so much more. Even a heart that was true.

If Freddie knew about the months he had not made love to Elizabeth, she had to have learned from Edgekirth. Did that mean that Edgekirth and Elizabeth had been lovers? He would not doubt it. Unlike Freddie, Elizabeth was not the kind of woman to be content with no men lusting after her. Elizabeth craved the attention of men, their admiration, their desire.

She had peculiar, destructive cravings, too. Cravings he could never reveal to an innocent like Freddie.

His thoughts turned to Harold Lambeth and his unlikable family. Why had the man come? One did not simply
swing over from the Lake Country
. They had been quite vague about just who they had visited there when Stacks asked.

Had Sir Lambeth listened to Julia Taylor's gossip? Had he come to Marshbanks Abbey prepared to do battle with a deranged murderer for custody of Freddie?

Somehow, that scenario lacked realism. No one in that family gave a fig leaf over Freddie's welfare. A more despicable bunch he had never seen. They almost completely ignored Freddie's existence. No wonder the poor orphan had been so grateful for his attentions.

He could almost cry when he thought of what she looked like that day she had come to Marshbanks Abbey. She would have been pitiful except for the defiant flash in her eye and her proud bearing. One would have thought she wore regal robes the way she walked through the abbey that first day. She defied anyone to feel pity for her.

He honestly did not think her uncle meant to take her away. Even so, Stacks had no desire to stoke the fires of gossip. He would be overly amiable to the visitors. He would see that Freddie's suitors made their presence known to her uncle. He must not let Sir Lambeth suspect he cared for Freddie in any way except as her guardian.

If the man could but see that Stacks was not a fiendish monster who seduced maidens, perhaps he would return to Sussex.

All Stacks could desire was to live in peace with Freddie at his side. Just like it had been before.

If he had no dark past, he could have told her uncle that he wished to marry Freddie. But now he could never do that.

Would he be able to be with Freddie day in and day out without desiring to bed her? Could the sun cease to shine, he wondered bitterly, peering into his empty snifter.

***

To appease the demanding Roxanne, Stacks agreed to escort the Lambeths on a ride along the moors. Also to placate Roxanne, Cook packed a picnic for the sojourn.

As the group was preparing to mount the horses held by the groom and footmen, Edgekirth rode up and dismounted.

 "You are just in time to join us, Edgekirth," Stacks said, shading his eyes from the sun as he gazed at the doctor.

Edgekirth glanced over the gathering. "Where are you going?"

"I am going to show Miss Lambeth's family the moors."

Freddie stepped forward. "Do let me introduce you to my relatives." After the introductions, she told her family, "Dr. Edgekirth is credited with saving my life after I took a fever."

Roxanne smiled appreciatively at the handsome doctor. "It appears we are greatly indebted to you, Dr. Edgekirth."

"I thought Freddie was never sick," Uncle Harold said.

"I fear your niece had no tolerance for our damp climate," Edgekirth said. He gave Freddie a tender glance. "If you do not object to adding another to your party, I should like to join you."

The group mounted their horses and rode off in pairs, Roxanne beside Stacks followed by her parents, and Freddie and the doctor next to each other behind her aunt and uncle.

"I did not know you were expecting a visit from your uncle," Edgekirth said.

"It's really quite peculiar. They just showed up at the abbey, and now it appears they plan to stay for some time."

"Somehow I can tell that this does not please you."

She smiled at the doctor. "How well you know me, Malcolm." Immediately, she regretted the slip of her tongue which caused her to address him by his first name. She hoped he had not noticed.

"I've never felt so close to any woman before, my dear Freddie." A wistful smile lighted his face.

She looked straight ahead at the backs of her guardian and Roxanne. Thomas so tall in his saddle, his darkness a complement to Roxanne's fairness. The lovely blonde rode with grace in her sapphire riding habit, a matching hat askance on her silky, white-gold hair. How good they looked together, Freddie thought bitterly.

"I am truly sorry I cannot return your regard, Doctor. But, as you know, my heart belongs to another, and I shouldn't like for you to call me Freddie in front of Lord Stacks."

"I thought when you called me Malcolm. . ."

She flinched from the pain she saw in his face. "I must apologize for igniting false hopes. It is just that I do feel so very close to you. You are a great, dear friend."

He frowned and looked ahead at Stacks and Roxanne. "It seems your lovely cousin aspires to a title."

Freddie swallowed and nodded solemnly. The day would have been perfect if it was just Thomas and herself in their universe of two. The sky was blue and cloudless, the sun warm and comforting. There was no sound other than the soft thud of the horse hooves meeting the time-worn path and herons chirping from a distant perch. A sea of the heather's purple glory rippled from a coastal breeze and yellow flowers spiked the top of spiny gorse.

Then the glorious silence was broken with Roxanne's exaggerated tributes to the loveliness of the moors. Freddie felt as if she could gladly push her cousin into the slushy bog.

"By the way," Edgekirth said, "Mr. Sedgwick claims his gout has all but disappeared since he started your medicine."

"That is good news, indeed."

"Have you similarly miraculous remedies for asthma? I have many afflicted patients."

A lively expression swept over her face. "I know of no better cure for asthma than a conserve made of honeysuckle flowers, and happily, they are in bloom now. I'll mix some for you."

Before long, Lord Stacks found a spot for their picnic, and they settled down on blankets to eat. Freddie was peeling a hard cooked egg when her uncle, a peeled egg in his hand, stood up and said, "I beg a walk with you, Freddie."

She shot a worried glance at Stacks, got to her feet, and joined her uncle. They walked some distance, finishing their eggs, before he spoke.

"I must confess that my visit to Marshbanks Abbey was not by pure chance. I desired to come here--unannounced--to investigate for myself the contents of a distressing letter I received from a Mrs. Julia Taylor."

Freddie heaved a sigh. "Mrs. Taylor is hardly reliable, Uncle. She was dismissed from her employment here because of her total incompetence."

"She was your companion?"

"Yes. Apparently Lord Stacks would never have invited me to the abbey because of the impropriety of having an unmarried woman living under the same roof as an unmarried man. You see, he thought because of my name that I was lad."

"I had no idea."

Freddie nodded. "So after I fell ill, he hired Mrs. Taylor. It is my belief that she turned bitter toward Lord Stacks when she realized he was not going to fall in love with her and make her his lady."

"So she harbored the same hopes as Dorothea has for Roxanne. I had intended to ride here alone for I did not share the contents of the letter with Dorothea, but nothing would do but that she and Roxanne come with me. You know how long those two have schemed to make Roxanne a duchess or some such peeress."

There was a grim set to Freddie's mouth. "Lord Stacks does not wish to marry."

They came within feet of a family of ducks, who scattered as they neared.

"Distressing about his wife. Any truth to this business of her being murdered by Lord Stacks?"

"Of course not!" Freddie protested. "An inquest found that she died of suicide. Lord Stacks is the kindest, gentlest man alive."

"I suppose you would know. How long have you been here now?"

"Almost five months."

Uncle Harold cleared his throat. "I don't suppose he's made any unwanted advances toward you?"

"No," she said,
not any unwanted
. "He's a perfect gentleman."

He turned back toward the others, "I feel much better now that I've had this little talk with you. I want to do toward you as I would to my own daughters, and I don't have to tell you how upset I would be if a man of Stacks' age tried to force himself on one of my little girls."

"How are Jenny and Abigail?"

"Pouting when we left them. They wanted to come--anything to get out of their studies."

Freddie smiled.

When they returned to the others, they finished eating, then mounted their horses for the ride back to the abbey. The three couples paired up in the same way again.

The longer Freddie watched the fair Roxanne beaming her dazzling smiles at Thomas, the angrier she became. Though she had never cared for Roxanne, the intensity of her present dislike could have been fired by her similarity to Elizabeth. She was so very much in the same style as the beautiful Elizabeth. Was that the style Thomas would pick, given the chance of free choice?

Though Freddie held his love now, she wondered if it was because she was the first woman he had been exposed to in a decade.

Freddie was surrounded by gaiety. Roxanne flirted and giggled and repeatedly praised the weather. Aunt Dorothea, a smile stretching from ear to ear, was in raptures. Freddie was suffocated by gloom.

When they returned to the abbey, Edgekirth left after being invited for dinner. As they walked toward their own chambers, Lord Stacks stayed back to speak privately to Freddie.

"Could you join me in the library for a moment, Miss Lambeth?" he asked Freddie.

Chapter 24

Stacks closed the library door behind them. Freddie turned to him, her green eyes sorrowful. "Hold me." She sounded like a lost waif.

Despite his resolve, despite his best intentions, he drew her into his arms. She slid her arms beneath his coat and closed them tightly around him, her face snuggled into his chest. He held her for a moment, exulting in the feel of her. By her simple need, she had shown him she loved him still, even after knowing he killed Elizabeth. God's eyes, but he loved her. He loved her to the depths of his soul. But because he loved her so dearly, he had to deny himself the agonizing pleasure of her.

He loosened his hold, standing back and lifting her chin with a knuckle. "I can't touch you and keep my head straight enough to remember what I called you here for. Let's sit down."

She went to the sofa and sat on one side of it, obviously intending for him to sit beside her.

He could not allow himself such luxury. He sat in a chair facing her. "It's about your uncle," he said, trying to purge himself of the shattering feel of her.

She looked at him solemnly. "You want to know what we talked about."

"Julia Taylor has talked to him, I am sure."

"Actually, she wrote him. I told my uncle she was bitter over being dismissed for being unreliable and incompetent."

"Did your uncle ask if I had forced myself on you?"

"He phrased it
unwanted intentions
. So of course I told him no," she said with a little laugh. "I told him you were the perfect gentleman, that all the rumors were false, that an inquest found Elizabeth had died by her own hand."

"You did not tell him about us?" What about us, he wondered. That they loved each other? That he could never offer marriage. That Freddie was as much a part of him as his very flesh and bones?

"I would not do so without your permission, Thomas. After all, there is no formal understanding between us. From her grave, Elizabeth reaches her tentacles to keep us apart."

How could one so young have such keen understanding, he wondered. She instinctively knew he could never marry her because he had killed Elizabeth. Ten tortuous years ago.

Freddie lowered her lashes. "I did tell Uncle Harold that you said you'd never marry again."

"That is the unfortunate truth."

Her eyes moist, she gazed at him. "I don't mind as long as I can stay with you. That's all I ask."

He was nearly overcome with emotion. His heart's desire loved him, not his riches, not his title. She had lifted him from the valleys of hell.

But he could never drag her into his sordid world of anguish.

"You're far better off without me. You'd do better to accept Edgekirth--damn his eligibility--or Luke Rountree. They can give you their name, children, all the respectability a woman could want--none of which I can offer."