An Earl for the desperate bride (Regency Romance) (Regency Tales Book 1) (4 page)

Someone was screaming at her, yelling her name as if she had done something wrong, but Eliza was too weary to open her eyes. The voice was very close; she could feel the presence of someone.

“You wicked girl! How dare you run away?”

That voice. It was Lord Sevile. She opened her eyes to see him leaning over her. She was in bed, in her room at Savile House.

“I didn’t run away,” she said faintly. She realized, despite her weakened state, that she had to protect Stephen. Lord Savile must never guess that she had gone in search of a stable hand. “I went for a walk. I lost my way in the rain—”

Her head jerked back from the force of Lord Sevile’s hand striking her face. At the foot of the bed, Eliza saw Mrs. Clemens wince as her brother struck his fiancée. “Tomorrow is our wedding day,” he told her through clenched teeth. “You will be my wife and there will be no more of this nonsense. If I need to beat you daily to make sure that you behave yourself, do not think that I will hesitate. You will fear me, but you will obey me. Do you understand me?”

She didn’t answer.

“Do you understand me?” he screamed.

She nodded. She understood. All was lost. How had she ended up back here? Had the stable hands sent for Lord Sevile? Had they alerted her mother and had her mother returned her to Lord Sevile? He must have fetched her with haste, doubtless intent on avoiding scandal. Hence the wedding date set for tomorrow, when she would be legally his wife and completely under his authority.

They left her, Lord Savile and his sister, although Mrs. Clemens did look back anxiously before closing the door. Eliza turned her head and wept, her tears soaking her pillow. She had no one. When the morning came, she would be abandoned to marriage.

Eliza sat up and went to the window. The night-time sky had cleared after expelling the rains that had fallen with such relentless ferocity as she tried to find Stephen. Stephen was gone and with her all her hopes. She left the window open; if the night air were truly harmful, then she prayed that it would strike her quickly. She prayed that death would come before the morning. If God had not abandoned her, if he truly was present in London as well as in the country, then he should answer her prayer.

She slept. She was aware of Lisette coming into her room with a tray, urging her to drink the broth that Mrs. Clemens had ordered for her. Eliza remained silent, her eyes closed.

“You must eat,” Lisette said, concern audible in her voice.

“You must be strong for your wedding.”

But Eliza continued to feign sleep and finally Lisette left.

She was alone. She was relieved to be alone. There was no one she could trust, no one she could count on. Tomorrow she would be Lady Sevile, the possession of her husband, who would inflict unbearable intimacies upon her, and violence as well.

Her body, exhausted by physical weakness and the exertions to which she had subjected herself that day, succumbed to sleep, a deep, dreamless sleep that her drained body craved.

She must have slept, because she was aware of trying to awaken. Something must have come in through the open window; a bird, an insect, something that was tickling her nose. She opened her eyes.

She must be dreaming. It could not be Stephen Croft standing over her, running the fragrant petals of a rose back and forth beneath her nose to rouse her into wakefulness.

“Stephen?” she questioned wonderingly.

“Is there another man that you would allow in your bedroom?” he teased.

“You’ve returned.”

“Yes. I meant to be back sooner but my errand took me farther than I expected. There isn’t much time. I have horses tethered in the grove of trees behind the house. If you love me, and if you still mean what you promised, then we’re off to Gretna Green.”

“Today is my wedding day,” she marvelled.

“It surely is!” he agreed.

“No, I mean it is to be the day—was to be the day I married His Lordship.”

“Then I’ve arrived in the very nick of time. Hurry; no one is awake yet, the house is dark. I’ll wait in the trees. When you’re ready, come to the window.”

“How will I get down?”

“It isn’t far. All will be well. You look so pale, my love. Have you been ill?” Tenderly, he brushed her check with his fingertips and for the first time since he had left her, she felt alive again, his touch awakening a response in her body that Lord Savile could never have evoked.

“I’m well now,” she told him, her eyes shining but not with fever.

“Hurry,” he told her, heading back out the window. “There’s no time to waste.”

She garbed herself in her simplest dress and sturdiest shoes, part of her wardrobe from her life in the country. The rich satins and silk fabrics of the dresses that had been ordered for her meant nothing to her; in fact, it gave her great pleasure to leave them as proof of the way she felt about Lord Sevile. She was sorry for her parents and her brother, but the week apart from Stephen had taught her that true love was willing to sacrifice. Her parents and brother had intended to sacrifice her, but Stephen had not abandoned her.

When she appeared at the window, dressed, her hair combed for the first time in days, Stephen was waiting. “Have you ever climbed trees?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied.

“Then you’ll have no trouble climbing down this one. The branches are sturdy. Mind your step; the leaves are wet from the rain.”

He went down first, moving lithely from branch to branch until he was on solid ground again. It was slower going for Eliza, confined by her skirts, but Stephen encouraged her each step of the way until she descended from the last branch and stood by his side.

There was so much to tell him and so much to ask, but she recognized the need for stealth and speed. Quickly, using the trees to shield them, they walked deeper into the grove where, as Stephen had said, two horses, saddled and tethered, were waiting.

“Wherever did you get them?” she asked. Both mounts appeared to be superior breeds; one, a chestnut, regarded her with interest as she approached. The other, a black, tossed his head but when he heard Stephen’s voice, he became calm.

“They seem to know you,” she said.

“I should hope so.”

He was a stable hand, she reminded herself. The horses that he tended to would certainly know him. But a stable hand could not simply take horses of his own accord; they belonged to his master. Horse thieves were swiftly and summarily punished.

“Stephen, the horses—”

“Are well-rested and fed and ready for the journey,” he told her, assisting her into the saddle of the chestnut. “We’ll ride fast for two hours, then stop. Can you make it?”

“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed.

He had spoken the truth; the horses were prepared to ride without interruption. For two hours they rode, Stephen leading the way, Eliza following. They stopped by a stream to rest the horses. While they rested, Stephen took bread and dried meat out of the saddlebag, and two flasks of wine. “It’s not much of a wedding feast,” he apologized as he split the loaf in half and handed her a piece. “But it’ll do until we’re wed.”

It was the first meal she’d eaten in days and it was delicious. She ate everything. Stephenwatched her, his expression a mixture of love and compassion. He could see that she had suffered during his absence, but he decided not to question her. She would reveal what she had endured when there was time. For now, it wa
s
―

They both heard the sound of horses’ hooves pounding upon the ground. Eliza looked at Stephen, naked fear plain in her face. It was then that Stephen realized that Lord Savile must have done something; her response to him had been disgust, not terror. Stephen’s jaw tightened. “Eliza, get back on Bella,” he told her as the hooves drew nearer. “If anything should happen, you must ride as fast as you can to Harrow’s Grove in Kent. Ask for the Dowager Countess of Ravencroft; she knows who I am and she will come to your aid—”

“I won’t leave you, Stephen.” No matter what happened, she would not leave Stephen. She could not. She had experienced firsthand how vicious Lord Savile could be and that venomous rage was likely to be turned against Stephen who, as a stable hand, had no hope of standing against a man of wealth and power. Whatever happened, she would not abandon Stephen.

When Lord Savile approached the clearing, Eliza was standing at Stephen’s side. Lord Savile saw them together and his ire exploded as he raised his horsewhip, intending to strike Stephen.

Eliza screamed. But Stephen, calm and fearless, spoke.

“Have a care, Sevile. You’re not striking a defenceless woman.”

“You insolent pup,” snarled His Lordship, pulling back his arm, the whip in his hand. He let the whip fly. Stephen, catching Eliza, expertly twirled with her in his arms as if they were partners in a dance and the whip missed its mark.

Except that the end of the whip was now in Stephen’s hand. He pulled on it, causing Lord Savile to lose his balance and tumble from the saddle. On his knees on the muddy ground, Lord Savile presented a ludicrous figure.

“You’ll hang for this!” he warned, his voice so contorted with anger that his words were barely coherent.

“I think not,” Stephen said, smiling.

Eliza stared up at him. How could he be so composed? Lord Savile was wealthy, powerful, and influential. What hope did a stable hand, however self-confident and honest, have against such a man in the courts where goodness and kindness were no match against a title?

“You seek to make a fool of me? You’ll learn, you’ll both learn.”

“I’ve finished my lessons, milord, and account myself well tutored. Eliza—” Stephen turned to her. “I haven’t been entirely candid with you. It’s time you learned more about the man you’re going to marry.”

“She’s going to marry me!” Lord Savile struggled to rise from the ground but the mud was slippery and he slid again.

Stephen offered his arm. “Allow me,” he said.

Eliza feared that Lord Savile was about to suffer an apoplectic fit. His eyes looked as if they were ready to pop out of his head. His skin was a peculiar mixture of red and white, and his lips were trembling with choler as he tried to speak.

“Lord Sevile, it’s time that you learned the truth as well. Come, Eliza, let’s mount up. We will be returning to Eliza’s parents’ home. You are invited to join us.”

“No, I’m not going home. When I went there, they sent me back to him.”

“No,” Stephen said gently. “They did not. They were with me, my love, at my solicitor’s. When Lord Savile returns to London, he will find a message informing him that Lord Stanton’s gambling debts are paid. He has no power over your parents, Eliza, and no ownership of you.”

“But why—I went to find you, I didn’t know where you where—”

“I know. I returned to my family home to let my mother know my plans. She is delighted to learn that I’m planning to be married and she’s eager to meet you.  Your parents are at home. They were not there when you showed up at your former home. When you fell ill and fainted in the stables, no one knew what to do. That’s why you were returned to Savile House.”

“How could a stable hand possibly pay off gambling debts?” Lord Savile sneered, still on his knees in the mud, glaring up at the pair.

“Don’t discount stable hands,” Stephen advised. “I’ve always been quite good with horses. I was at a ball and I saw Lady Eliza. She didn’t see me. She was rather engulfed by your lordship. I obtained employment with her family, and she and I . . .” Stephen smiled at Eliza. “Let’s say that we came to an understanding.”

“She’ll be a laughingstock when the
Beau Monde
learns that she’s giving up a title to wed a penniless stable hand with nothing to offer but ‘an understanding.’ I don’t want her now; the leavings of a common groom are not good enough to bear a Savile heir—”

Suddenly Lord Savile was on his feet, but only because Stephen, moving swiftly, had captured the older man by his collar and deftly hauled him up from the mud. “If you ever slander the name of my future wife again,” Stephen told him in even, curt tones that left no doubt of his intentions, “I’ll use your own horsewhip on you.”

“You dare to threaten me? The constable will have you in shackles before nightfall.”

“You’ll find that the constable is aware that you held a girl against her will and threatened her with violence.”

It was too much. Eliza felt light-headed and weak, the events that had transpired overwhelming her.

“Who the devil do you think you are?” Lord Savile demanded. “Never have I encountered a rogue of your calibre and I assure you that you’ll soon be repenting of your arrogance. You’re nothing but dirt!”

“I have the advantage of you, Lord Sevile,” Stephen smiled, his dark brown eyes as merry as Eliza had ever seen them, filled with the high spirits and glee of a man who was enjoying himself tremendously. “I know who I am, and you do not. You will find that dirt can be golden.”

Stephen untethered the horse Eliza had been riding and helped her to mount into the saddle. “My name is not Stephen Croft,” he told her.

He reached into his pocket. “My name,” he said, taking a ring from his pocket and placing it at the edge of her ring finger, “is Stephen Ravencroft.”