Louise Allen - Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1

His most immediate task, however, would be to move her out of that vulnerable cottage, where there was naught but one disreputable mutt to safeguard her. He’d transport her to some location where he could watch over her while the legal proceedings moved forward. He blessed the fact that in his job he’d accumulated contacts who could help with that, as well.

The disappointment, anguish, hurt of the previous hours dissolved in an upsurge of joyous excitement. Over the past several years he’d perfected his calling, pursuing the enemies of the state with methodical precision, quietly content to have rendered valuable, if unheralded, service to his nation. Now he would use the skills honed in that service to rescue the woman he loved and fashion a place for them to be together for a lifetime.

He remembered then her stark avowal—that she would never again consider entering the state of wedlock —and some of his ardor dimmed. Would he be able to persuade her to once again trust in a man’s vows to love, cherish and protect?

He refused to consider now the bleakness his life would become if he could not. But regardless of whether he was eventually successful in winning her hand, he pledged on his sacred honor that he would see her freed of her sham of a marriage, freed of fear, free to live once again in the open.

When he left for London at dawn tomorrow, Laura Martin must go with him. Now all he needed to do was to convince her.

The midnight air was cold and clear, the moon full enough that its light cast shadows across the cottage porch as thirty minutes later, Misfit gamboling joyfully at his heels, Beau stood at Laura Martin’s door.

He fisted his hand to knock and then hesitated. Would an unexpected pounding on her door at midnight terrify her with fears of her husband’s pursuit? Or had she been a healer long enough that she would merely think some individual sought emergency aid?

He decided on a single sharp rap. “Mrs. Martin, it’s Beau Bradsleigh!” he called through the night stillness. “Please, I must see you at once!” Apparently deciding to add voice to the summons, Misfit began to bark.

By the time he’d quelled the dog’s enthusiasm, he saw a light approaching. Her body obscured by a voluminous dark wrapper, the ubiquitous cap on her head, Mrs. Martin cautiously moved to the door.

Her eyes glanced off him into the empty darkness beyond. “My lord? Pray, what is wrong? Your brother—”

“No, Kit is well. Please, may I come in?”

She stood a moment, eyes examining his face, as if struggling between acceptance and refusal. Then, with a slight smile, she nodded. “This is certainly not wise, so it had best be brief.” She gestured him inside.

He followed her into the parlor, dark and chill with no fire in the grate. After setting her candle upon the table, she sat and invited him to do the same.

He hesitated, searching for the most convincing words. “Forgive me for intruding upon you so late, but I leave for London in the morning and there is something we must settle before I go.”

“Excuse me, but I thought we had already said everything that was needful.” Sudden alarm flashed across her features. “Unless you’ve changed your mind—”

“I mean you no harm, as I assured you this morning. Quite the opposite, Mrs.—it isn’t ‘Martin,’ is it?”

Her eyes fell. “No,” she said softly.

“Nor is it the ‘widowed.’ Mrs. Martin?”

She jerked her head upright, dismay in her eyes. She opened her lips. Closed them again.

“You’re still married, aren’t you? That’s what—who you’re hiding from. That’s the matter that ‘cannot be fixed.’ Isn’t it?”

She sighed. “Why could you not accept the surface appearance of things, as everyone else does?” She smiled, her expression half rueful, half self-mocking. “All of England, and I must take refuge in the one small community whose squire’s son is friend to the Puzzle-breaker’s brother. So now you’ve guessed the whole of my secret. But as long as you honor your pledge not to betray me—and I think you will—what is there to discuss?”

“You believe yourself in danger, do you not?”

Her smile faded. “Yes.”

“Then you must come with me.”

That startled an incredulous laugh from her. “Go with you! To London where the chance of Ch—of discovery would be so much greater? You must be mad! Why do you think I chose so obscure a location?”

“Obscure or not, you just admitted that, should your husband discover your whereabouts, you would not be safe here. I can keep you safe.”

“I beg to differ, but you cannot! Clever though you be, you are not above the law. Should my husband find me, no one has the right to keep me from him.”

“You think I would let him find you? A man who has used you so badly you felt it necessary to go into hiding to escape him? Think, Laura! I’ve many more contacts than you. I can see you settled secretly, somewhere safe. Where you can stay while I persuade him to pursue a bill of divorcement.”

“Divorce?” She uttered a short, scornful noise. “Now I know you’re mad! He’s … an important man, fiercely proud of his family and his lineage. He’d never tarnish it with the stain of divorce. He’d see me dead first.”

Beau shrugged. “If he is proud of his family, he’ll want sons to carry on his name—which I trust you’ve not yet provided?” When she said nothing, he continued, “He’ll not get heirs without a willing wife. ‘Tis in his own interest to divorce you and find another. And should he refuse to proceed, he’ll be made to do so. A man who causes his wife to flee cannot be a saint. There must be some stain on his honor he would not want revealed, something that would be more damaging to his name than divorce. If necessary, I’ll guarantee him it will be revealed.” Beau smiled slightly. “As you know, I’m rather good at ferreting out secrets.”

Laura shook her head. “He will not be coerced. Only remember—society, law, custom are all on his side! Alerting him to my presence would only encourage him to arrange the one thing that truly would make him free …” Her fervent voice faded to a whisper. “My death.”

“Do you think me so poor a champion?” Beau asked, appalled, frustrated and more than a little stung by her lack of faith.

She looked up, her eyes lit with tenderness. “You are a wonderful caretaker to those who depend on you—your sister and brother and niece. But you cannot protect me. Even if I had some valid claim to your protection.”

“Do you not, Laura, my sweet?” He reached for her hand, and she let him take it, bring it to his lips. “Your fierce spirit laid claim to my heart that first long night we toiled together at Kit’s side. Every day that passes, each moment we share deepens that claim. A bond and obligation quite apart from what my family owes you, a link between you and I alone. Surely you feel it, too.”

A statement, not a question. Her lips trembling, she squeezed his hand. “Y-yes. But it cannot—”

“It can! We can be together, if you will only believe in me, trust me. I want you with me, Laura. I want to protect you and care for you and love you. I’ll pledge my life to prevent any harm coming to you. And I will do whatever is necessary to set you free.”

Tears welled in her eyes, the candlelight reflected in their watery sheen. “I believe you. But you do not know him. You don’t know what he’s … capable of. I promise you, he would never consent to a divorce. Soon I’ll be … safer, as safe as I shall ever be in this life. But only if I stay here, if you promise to take no action that might bring to his notice some hint of my whereabouts.”

“Laura, that’s nonsense! Only a divorce will truly make you safe. Won’t you tell me the whole, help me set the process in motion?”