Season For Surrender (A Danby Family Novella Book 2)
Read Season For Surrender (A Danby Family Novella Book 2) Online
Authors: Julie Johnstone
Season For Surrender
Copyright © 2014 Julie
Johnstone
Cover Design by Covers
by Lily
Editing by Sandra
Sookoo
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The characters
and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real
persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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For more information:
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For
Jennifer Burk. Thanks for the laughter, the listening and the unwavering
friendship. Every person should be so lucky to have a friend like you. Much
love ~ Julie
Table
of Contents
December
1814
London,
England
Arrington’s funeral was over but the
pall of death still clung to Nicholas Beckford, Baron Edgeworth. Damn his
friend for cheating on his wife and getting himself killed. Nick grimaced as he
stared out the coach window into the driving rain. He’d curse Lady Arrington
too, but her actions were more debatable. On the one hand, she
had
been
a victim of cruel and heartless treatment. Adultery was despicable and unworthy
of anyone who called himself a gentleman. He didn’t give a damn if his opinion
was the minority. It was the correct belief.
Still…he drummed his fingers against his
thigh. Arrington hadn’t deserved to be bludgeoned to death with his favorite
fire poker. Forced to beg forgiveness on his knees―yes. Denied conjugal
rights until such time Lady Arrington deemed him forgiven―absolutely.
Made to grovel daily and purchase incredibly expensive baubles―without a
doubt. Never trusted again―perhaps. But beaten to death? A shudder ran
through Nick as he once again pictured the scene.
Funerals were never fun for anyone,
unless it was your spouse’s funeral whom you hated and were glad to see them
go. He’d seen a few of
those
barely contained expressions of relief at a
scattering of funerals in his thirty-one years. A grim smile pulled at his
lips. He’d never have to worry his spouse would be standing at his casket
counting the seconds until she could see him into the dirt and find the
happiness she really wanted. That had never been a concern, because he would
never take a wife.
The drunken agreement to never marry
he’d made with his old chums several nights ago after Arrington’s funeral wouldn’t
prevent him from wedding. He wasn’t afraid of ending up like Arrington as his
bachelor friends claimed they were. No, he feared destroying a woman as he’d
done once before. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Funerals
always unhinged the lock on the memories he kept securely bolted. Several
glasses of whiskey would fix that.
As the coach slowed, Nick jumped out of
his carriage before his coachman, Peters, was able to bring it to a full stop.
“Milord!” Peters gasped behind him.
Nick swung around while his feet sank
into the mud and he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the downpour. He
waved Peters to leave. “Go home and come back in several hours. No need for you
to wait here in the cold.”
“You’re sure?” Peters pulled his coat
under his chin, narrowing his gaze.
Nick smiled. “Have you ever known me to
be unsure of anything?”
“No, milord.” Peters whistled to the
horses as he urged them to go.
Nick turned and made his way inside the
Bright Star Inn and out of the rain. He ducked under the entranceway and shook
the rainwater from his hair as he entered the dingy, overcrowded inn. He
inhaled an appreciative whiff of the cigar smoke swirling in the air, the sweet
smell of ale and liquor―nothing fine or fancy here―and the enticing
scent of roasted meat and bread wafting into the pub from the private dining
room.
He grunted as he pulled off his overcoat
and strode to the stools.
The barkeep, Blakely, tilted his head.
“The usual, Edgeworth?”
“The usual won’t do tonight.” Nick
tossed his coat over the wooden stool beside him and met the man’s friendly
gaze.
“Aye.” Blakely brought out the most
expensive bottle of whiskey they had, good but certainly not comparable to the
whiskey at White’s. But White’s had nosy people who knew Nick and his family.
Blakely slid the glass towards Nick,
without the whiskey so much as sloshing. Nick raised an appreciative eyebrow.
With care, Blakely wiped his hands on a
towel, slung it over his shoulder and leaned an elbow on the wood. He raised
his bushy black eyebrows as he glanced between Nick and the glass of whiskey.
“You’ve got the look of a man who’s had a three-dram day.”
Nick downed the liquor, catching his
breath at its pleasurable burn. He cleared his throat and pushed the glass towards
Blakely. “I’ve had at least a four-dram day, but it’s debatable. I’ll not make
for good company tonight.”
Blakely nodded without questioning and
poured Nick another dram before returning to his other customers.
That was exactly why Nick loved this
place. No one questioned him here. They didn’t know his past, and they didn’t
care. He wasn’t Baron Edgeworth to them. He was simply Edgeworth―a man
liked for his occasional generous rounds of drinks, jokes and political views.
Very superficial and perfect.
The proprietor was the only one who knew
he was Baron Edgeworth and Nick paid the man handsomely to keep it that way.
Not living in the area made it an easy task to keep his title unknown. He’d
made the right choice coming here tonight. He didn’t want to feel alone. Throngs
of travelers, and men and women from the gentry, occupied this pub. He’d be
surrounded by people, without actually having to worry he’d know anyone who
would dare to aggravate him with small talk or inquires of his family, or worse,
the funeral.
The only member of the
ton
who ever
ventured to this side of town was his cousin Drew, and Drew hadn’t been here in
weeks since his wife Charlotte was close to delivering their first child. The
thought of Charlotte being forced into confinement and having to give up starring
in plays at the Sans Peril Theatre made Nick chuckle. He hadn’t been surprised
when Drew hadn’t forced Charlotte to quit acting the moment he learned she was
with child. Nick ignored the jealous twinge that accosted him. He didn’t want
to be Drew. His cousin was hopelessly besotted with his wife and let her do
whatever she wanted. Nothing else could explain why Drew agreed to Charlotte’s
demand to stay in Town for the winter.
He sipped his whiskey slower this time.
It may be a four-dram day, but he despised sloppy drunkenness in any man, no
matter the reason. The last leg of his return trip from the funeral had been
hell because of the weather. He should have stopped, but the need to reach home
quickly plagued him and he’d ridden straight through. Foolish, considering when
he’d spotted his opulent unoccupied mansion in Mayfair, dread had seized him.
He’d barked an order at Peters to bring him here instead and then promptly
apologized for being such an unmitigated ass.
Nick swigged the last of his drink and
scowled. The liquor was not silencing the clamoring demons as it usually did.
He motioned Blakely back over. “Another, please.”
Blakely poured as he asked, “Are your
troubles still with you?”
Nick nodded. Arrington’s funeral
reminded Nick of Amelia Abbot, likely because she’d been childhood friends with
Arrington. Innocent Amelia, who he drove to her death with his callousness and
need to possess Elizabeth. He pressed his fingers into his temples.
Blakely frowned, making the red scar
above his lip turn white. “I hate to further sour your mood. I know you said
you’d be poor company, but your friend is headed this way.”
Nick swiveled around on his stool and
groaned. His cousin Drew strode towards him with a scowl fierce enough to scare
any man who didn’t know him. But Nick did. He frowned. Why the devil was Drew
here? Within seconds, Drew lifted Nick’s coat and sat beside him. “Hospitable
today, I see.”
“I left my hospitality on the muddy,
bumpy road. I came here to be alone,
not
to be hospitable,” Nick
growled.
Amusement flickered in Drew’s eyes.
“Blakely―”
The barkeep slid a glass of whiskey
towards Drew. “Here you go.”
Drew took a sip before speaking. “That’s
a fine barkeep to always remember what a man prefers.”
“I do my best,” Blakely said before
moving away.
Nick glared. “What are you doing here?”
“Grandfather and your mother forced me
here, so you can quit glaring at me. Believe me, I didn’t willingly leave my
wife’s tender embrace to come search you out. I received two letters today
demanding I hand deliver a letter from Grandfather and watch as you read it.
Apparently, neither he nor your mother trusts you to open a letter from them. ”
Drew reached inside his coat and pulled out a sealed envelope. “I should warn
you, your mother has enlisted Grandfather’s help in bringing you to task on
getting married.”
A ripple of unease crawled its way down
Nick’s spine. If his mother had finally managed to get his grandfather on her
side in her attempt to force Nick to wed, it could be a definite problem. So
far, he’d managed to ignore his mother’s demands he marry and give her a
grandchild. It hadn’t been overly hard since his father hadn’t sided with her.
Had something changed? Renewed tension coiled in his shoulders. “Give me the
letter.” His words came out harsh and clipped.
Drew’s eyebrows came together. “Not so
fast. I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you of the time you delivered
such a letter to me not so long ago.”
Nick froze while reaching for the
letter. Good God. Was Grandfather going to demand he marry or be cut off from
his inheritance? The surly old goat had the power to make it so. Nick tried to
picture being penniless or being married to a woman who expected him to love,
protect and cherish her above all else. Both circumstances left a sour taste
his mouth. He didn’t need wealth to survive, but he’d rather not be poor, if
given the choice. Yet he certainly couldn’t promise to love any woman. To love
someone he’d have to like himself first. He damned sure never expected that to
happen with his past sins. He snatched the letter out of his cousin’s hand and
ripped it open. Better to know his fate than not. If he was going to have
pockets to let, he’d rather know now.
Grandson,
I expect you at Danby castle by December twenty-fifth with your bride in tow.
If I don’t see you and your beautiful new wife by the stroke of midnight, I’ve
made all necessary arrangements to ensure your life is as miserable as your
mother―my bothersome daughter―has made mine this last year. Your
obstinacy in denying her fondest wish has driven me from my study where she
hounds me nightly to beg for my interference. This is unacceptable. Step
lively, Edgeworth. If you need help finding a wife I’ve a few ladies in mind. You’ve
only to write and request my help.
Nick’s blood ran cold. His cousin’s low
whistle filled his ears. “You’re caught now. Sorry, chap. I know how you feel
about getting married.”
He hadn’t realized he’d read his
grandfather’s words out loud. Crumpling the paper, he faced Drew to expel the
impression that any threat could force him to marry. His blistering words died
in his throat. Behind Drew stood a petite woman with the snowiest skin he’d
ever seen. The sable ermine hood drawn close around her heart-shaped face
created a striking contrast with her fair skin. Bright blue eyes narrowed
keenly on him. Long dormant lust rippled through his body. “Might I help you, miss?”
“I’m hoping we can help each other.”
Her husky voice sent another jolt of
lust through him that shook him to his core. He shifted in his seat and cleared
his throat. “You’ve all my attention.”
She pulled her hood back and shook out
her thick black hair. A hundred wicked ways he wanted to
help
her filled
his head. As if she read his thoughts, a cynical smile twisted her perfect red
lips. She stepped closer to him, forcing Drew to scoot his stool to make room
for her. The scent of jasmine surrounded him and he wanted to bury his nose in
her hair.
Her pink tongue darted out to lick her
lips. Was she nervous? Of him? Immediately, he wanted to put her at ease. “I
won’t bite.”
Yet.
And only if she liked that sort of thing. For surely,
this was a woman seeking a client for the night. Fortune had taken pity on him
tonight to put such an exquisite creature in his path.
A slight frown puckered the skin between
her eyebrows. “I’m not afraid you’ll bite. I’m afraid you’ll say no to my
proposition.”
“Darling, I assure you I’ve no desire to
say no to anything you wish of me.” To his right, Drew snorted and the woman
shot a scalding gaze his way. Brava her. She had bollocks.
“Might I have a private word?” Her voice
had grown low and unsure.