The Complete Regency Surrender Collection

She bit her lip. ‘I wish to remain close, should you need me. But as my husband, it is up to you to decide where you wish me to be.’ She glanced significantly at the bed beside her. It was the only moment of spirit in her too-perfect subservience.

It made him want to bed her even less. He remained blank for a moment more. Then he gave a laugh of mock surprise. ‘I am sorry to inform you of this, my dear, but it does not matter to me in the least where you wish to sleep tonight. I am far too tired to manage anything so strenuous as a loving reunion.’

As he had feared, she looked more relieved than disappointed by his refusal. She stood up mechanically and turned first towards the hall, then towards the door that led to a connecting bedroom. ‘Then I will return to my room and leave you to your rest. If you need anything in the night...’

‘I shall ring for a servant,’ he said firmly. ‘You do not need to trouble yourself any further, or sleep at the foot of my bed like a hound. If I need you specifically, I shall walk across the room and knock upon your door.’

A certain type of woman might have snapped at his rudeness, or burst into a torrent of foolish tears. This one gave him an impassive nod and answered as a servant would, ‘Very good, my lord.’

A nagging voice at the back of his head demanded that he stop being foolish. Even if they were not two halves of one heart, it gave him no reason to treat her like a footman. ‘I will see you in the morning,’ he said, trying to use a kinder tone. ‘In the breakfast room.’

‘Of course.’ And once he saw her there, would she eat when he told her, drink when he told her and in all other ways behave like an automaton? If so, it did not matter what Adam thought. Justine was the exact opposite of the wife he would have wanted. There was no spirit in her at all, no challenge. There was nothing in her to learn, no exciting discoveries to make. The woman leaving his room was perfectly beautiful, totally obedient and dull.

Then he was rewarded with a fleeting memory of the past. He had been watching Adam at the christening, who was full of pride over his son and his duchess. The boy had been crying and his mother near to panic at her inability to maintain order. But Adam could not have looked happier. The room had seemed almost too full of life. For the first time in his life, Will had found something to envy. He had wanted a wife. And he had, indeed, resolved to marry within the year.

The fact that he could not remember bringing it about was a moot point. The thought had been in his mind when he left the house. He was going south. There were any number of fashionable women who would welcome his offer, now that he had decided to make it. He would choose one of them, after...

After what? There had been something else he’d meant to do. Only afterwards had he intended to marry. He must have achieved his goal, whatever it was. He had carried out the second part of his plan and found a wife.

Now, he would have to make the best of his choice. He leaned over to blow out the candle settling back into a bed that was familiar, but strangely empty.

Chapter Four

In the weeks she’d spent at Bellston Manor, Justine had come up with a dozen excuses for her early morning walks. She enjoyed regular exercise. She had a love of the outdoors. She wished to become familiar with the area that would be her home, after the unlikely recovery of William Felkirk. She had caught Penny and the duke discussing her regular exercise with approval. They had been nodding sagely to each other about the need for poor Justine to escape the sickroom, even for a short period of time.

It pained her that they were so willing to accept what was nothing more than another lie. There was only one reason that truly mattered. In a regular series of lonely rambles, it was easy to disguise the few times she did not walk alone.

* * *

It took nearly ten minutes to cross the manicured park around the great house. Beyond that, the path wound into the trees and she was hidden from view. Most mornings, the concealment gave her the chance to let down her guard and be truly herself. That brief time amongst the oaks was all hers and it was a novelty. How many years had it been since she had called her life her own, even for a moment?

But this was not most mornings. Today, the privacy meant nothing more than a change of façades. She was barely concealed before she heard the step behind her. Even though she had been expecting it, she started at the sudden appearance of John Montague.

That he invariably startled her was a source of annoyance. He made no effort to blend with the wood or the countryside. He wore the same immaculately tailored black coats and snowy white breeches he favoured in town. The patterned silk of his waistcoats stood out like a tropical bird lost amongst the trees. His heavy cologne was devoid of woodsy notes. His body and face were sharp and angular, his complexion florid to match his wiry red hair.

The only subtlety he possessed was his ability to move without a sound. Whether walking through the leaves, or over the hard marble of the jewellery shop they ran in Bath, she never heard the click of a heel or the shuffle of a foot to mark his approach. Like a cat, he was suddenly there, at one’s side, and then he would be gone. After each meeting she spent hours, starting at nothing and glancing nervously over her shoulder, convinced that he might be nearby, listening, watching, waiting to pounce.

As usual, he laughed at her fear as though it gave him pleasure. Then he pulled her forward, into his arms to remind her that it was not William Felkirk to whom she belonged. She permitted his kiss, as she always did, remaining placid. If one could not summon a response other than revulsion, it was best to show no emotion at all. When she could stand no more of it, she pulled away, pretending that it was the urgent need to share information that made her resist his advances.

He cocked his head to the side as though trying to decide whether it was worth punishing her for her impudence. Then he spoke. ‘I saw the light in your window. You have news?’

‘Felkirk is awake.’

Montague gave a sharp intake of breath and she hurried to add, ‘But he remembers nothing.’

‘Nothing?’ He smiled at this miraculous turn of events.

‘Not a thing from the last six months,’ she assured him. ‘He does not remember his investigations. He does not remember you.’ Nor me, she added to herself. ‘Most importantly, he does not remember the injury. I told him it was a riding accident.’

‘Did he believe you?’ Montague said, with no real optimism.

‘I do not know.’

‘What will happen if circumstances change?’

‘It will be a disaster,’ she said. ‘I must be gone before then.’ Her plan to escape Montague was an utter failure, if she must run back to him now. But better to return to the devil she knew than to experience what might happen should Lord Felkirk remember the truth.

‘What of the diamonds?’ Montague asked. ‘You have been in the house for weeks. Am I to believe you found nothing?’

‘Not a thing,’ she admitted.

‘Did you examine the Duchess’s jewel case?’

Justine sighed. ‘Have I not told you so already? I feigned feminine curiosity and she showed me all. There are no stones in any of the pieces that match the ones my father was carrying.’

‘They must be hidden elsewhere.’ Montague insisted. ‘When he came to Bath, Felkirk was sure he’d found the hiding place.’

‘Then the information is locked in his brain along with the reason for his condition.’ Justine resisted the urge to tug upon his arm, to lead him further from the house. He seemed to think even the most innocent contact between them gave him permission to take further liberties. ‘You must get me away from here,’ she said.

Montague grunted in disgust. ‘But we will not have the diamonds. Without them, we have gained nothing from this little game you suggested. You might just as well have let me finish him, while we were still in Bath.’

‘Suppose he had told someone of his plans?’ She took the risk of stroking his arm to distract him. ‘Isn’t it better to know that there is no trail leading back to you?’

‘You discovered that almost immediately,’ he retorted. ‘If there were no diamonds to find, then you should have done as I suggested and smothered him while he slept.’

‘You know I could not,’ she said, as calmly as possible. To hear him speak so casually of cold-blooded murder made her tremble. Even knowing that her life might be at stake, she could not bring herself to do such a thing.

‘I fail to see what stops you,’ Montague replied. ‘His family was responsible for the death of your father, who was my closest friend.’ He beat his breast once to emphasise the connection. ‘He was murdered on their property, delivering stones for a necklace that the duchess did not give two figs for. They did not keep their land safe for travellers. They did not offer a guard to escort him to the house. And once the crime had occurred they made no effort to catch the killer. Even worse, they may have been complicit. If Felkirk is right and the stones are still on the property, what are we to believe?’

‘I doubt that is the case,’ she said. It made no sense. What reason would a duke have to rob a jewel merchant, when they could easily afford to pay for the stones?

‘Perhaps not,’ Montague allowed. ‘But some justice is owed, after all this time.’

‘True,’ she said, cautiously. ‘But it was very dangerous to take that justice into your own hands by attacking the brother of the duke.’ Had her father known there was this strain of madness in his partner, when he’d made him guardian to a pair of helpless orphans? It did not matter, for there was little she could do about it until Margot was of age. ‘Since he survived the attack and cannot remember what occurred, you will be safe from prosecution.’

‘All well and good,’ he said. ‘But when you suggested this ruse, you promised you would find the diamonds Felkirk was searching for and bring them to me.’

It had surprised her that he would believe such a thing. If she had uncovered the stones her father had lost, her plan had been to sell them and escape with her sister to a place where neither Montague nor Felkirk could find her. ‘As I’ve told you before, I can find no evidence of them. The plan is a failure. You must help me quit this house, before it is too late and Lord Felkirk remembers who I am.’ Then she sighed and offered herself as an incentive. ‘We might take a room at an inn on the road back to Bath.’

‘Do you miss me?’ he asked, with a smile that made her shiver. ‘How flattering. Do not worry. You will return to my bed soon enough, and it will be just as it was before Felkirk sought us out. But I think, for a time, you had best remain where you are. His memory might return. Perhaps you can coax forth the information we need and we will still succeed.’

‘It will require me to convince him that I am his wife,’ she said. ‘You know what he will expect from me.’ She held her breath, praying that Montague’s possessiveness would finally do her some good.

He grabbed her by the arm and she thought he meant to punish her for even suggesting such a thing. But then he kissed her, forcing his tongue into her open mouth, thrusting hard, as though the idea of her laying with another excited him. Or perhaps he meant to frighten her into submission.

That would have been pointless. She had learned, at times like this, to feel nothing at all. She had but to wait and it would be over, soon enough.

Eventually, he pulled away and whispered, ‘You must use your talents on him, my dear. I swear you are woman enough to give speech to a dead man. How hard will it be for you to turn Felkirk inside out and extract what you need from him?’

‘But suppose I cannot?’ she said. ‘Suppose he remembers seeing me with you. In Bath, I am sure he guessed I was your mistress. I could see it in his eyes. Do not make me do this, for it is sure to fail.’

‘You had best see that it does not,’ he said. ‘For your own sake and your sister’s.’

‘Do not mention Margot again,’ she said, yanking her arm free from his grasp as the fear he wanted to see flooded back into her.

‘I will speak of her, or to her, whenever I wish.’ He knew her weakness and exploited it, relishing her reaction. ‘Until she is of age, Margot is still my ward.’ Then he took her hand back, more gently this time, running his fingers along the skin in a way he must think would excite her. ‘Without you, my life is so very lonely, Justine. Perhaps I should bring Margot home from school. She could take your place, working in the shop. She could keep me company, until you return.’ He raised her hand to his lips, running the tip of his tongue along the knuckles. ‘I swear, she is very nearly as lovely as you.’

Her mind went blank again, blocking out the feeling of his lips touching her skin. ‘It will not be necessary to summon Margot,’ she said, in a calm, agreeable voice. ‘I will do exactly as you say. I will discover what it is that Felkirk found. Then, I will return to you and things will be just as they were.’

‘See that you do,’ he said, looking up into her eyes. ‘You are to do whatever is necessary to gain the knowledge we want. I will have those stones, Justine. And then I will have you back.’

Whatever was necessary. She would lie to William Felkirk and lie with him as well. Perhaps there would still be a way to find the diamonds and get away. But until then, she would lose a little bit of herself, just as she did each time with Montague. How much was left to lose, when one already felt empty? ‘Of course,’ she agreed, listening to the sound of her own voice as if it came from a great distance. She thought of Margot and the need for her to stay safe at school, and innocent, for just one more year. ‘I will do whatever is necessary.’

Then she let Montague kiss her again, making her mind a blank as the kiss grew more passionate. But now he was pulling her away from the path, deeper into the woods so that they could be alone. There was no time for it.

She pushed him away and straightened her dress. ‘They expect me back at the house. It was only to be a short walk. I will be missed if I tarry. And if Felkirk comes down to breakfast, he will want to see me there.’ Then she kissed Montague once, gently on the mouth, hoping that he would believe she was not simply avoiding him.

‘Of course,’ he agreed, smoothing her hair and straightening her bonnet for another excuse to touch her. ‘Go back to the house. Do not arouse suspicion. But do not take too long about it. Remember, Margot is coming home for Christmas. If you cannot be with us, I will send your love...’

She turned and hurried back to the house, surprised, as she always was, at the way that her guardian could turn a simple, parting phrase into a threat.

Chapter Five

Will slept uneasily, waking often and with a start, as though proving to himself that it was truly possible to open his eyes again. But by morning, the ache in his head had diminished. He was able to take a few shaky steps around the room before calling for the crutches that the servants had found, to help him.

In the breakfast room, he found other servants, already clearing away a plate that still held a half-eaten slice of toast slathered with the marmalade from Tim Colton’s orangery. It was his particular favourite. The pot on the table was half-empty.

His brother barely looked up from his coffee. ‘If you are looking for your wife, she is up and out of the house already. She favours a morning walk, much as you do when you are in the country.’

‘Oh.’ He stared out the window at the fading green of the park and the coloured leaves swirling in the breeze. ‘That particular habit will be quite beyond me for a time.’

Adam nodded, then smiled. ‘You have no idea how good it is to see you on your feet again, even if you are a trifle unsteady.’

‘Probably not,’ Will agreed. ‘For me, it is as if no time has passed at all.’

‘It is a blessing, then,’ Adam said. ‘You do not remember the pain.’

‘That is not all I have lost,’ Will reminded him, glancing at the marmalade pot.

‘And as I told you, there is nothing to fear. Unlike my own darling Penelope, Justine is the most patient of women. She will not be hurt by your forgetfulness.’

‘I had not thought of that,’ Will said. If he had married her, then the hardship was not all on one side.

Adam looked even more surprised. ‘How inconsiderate of you. While you were the one who was injured, there were others who bore the brunt of the pain and worry. And over something so uncharacteristically foolish as a fall from a horse.’

‘Exactly,’ Will said. ‘What would have caused me to do such a thing?’

‘Showing off for Justine, I expect,’ Adam said, moderating his voice to sound less like a scold. ‘All men are idiots, when they are in love.’

On this, Will agreed. ‘That is why I have always avoided being so.’

‘Until now,’ Adam finished.

‘And that is one more thing I do not understand,’ Will said, feeling more desperate than he had before. ‘You claim she is just like me. Perhaps it is true. But why did I not take the time to bring her home to meet you, and to marry properly, in a church? If she is so like me, why did she not insist on it? It is not reasonable.’

His brother laughed. ‘You cannot think of a single reason to marry such a woman in haste? You poor fellow.’

‘She is pretty, of course,’ he allowed.

‘Was your vision affected?’ Adam asked, drily. ‘She is a damn sight more than just pretty.’

‘A beauty, then,’ Will admitted reluctantly. ‘But the world is full of those and I have resisted them all.’

‘Until now,’ his brother replied.

‘But I have no clue as to what caused this magical change in me? And what took me to Bath?’

Adam frowned. ‘It will come back to you in time, I’m sure. If not, you can ask Justine.’ Adam gave him a searching look. ‘You have spoken to her, haven’t you?’

‘Briefly,’ Will admitted.

‘Which means that you have exchanged fewer words with her than you have with me.’

William shook his head. ‘I would rather hear your version of events first.’

‘You will find her story is much the same as mine,’ Adam said. ‘While you cannot remember her, there is no reason to assume that she will not be forthcoming if you ask these questions of her.’

Will paused, unsure of how to explain himself. Then he said, ‘It is not just that I have forgotten our marriage. I have the strangest feeling that she is not to be trusted.’

Adam stifled an oath before mastering his patience. ‘The physicians told us that you might be prone to dark moods, if you recovered at all. Do not let yourself be ruled by them.’

‘Suppose I cannot prevent it?’ he said in return. ‘You claim I will love her as I once did, given time. Suppose I do not?’

‘Then I would assume that you are not fully recovered from your injury and tell you that even more time was required.’ Adam seemed to think it was much less complicated than it seemed to him.

‘Then you must ready your advice,’ Will replied. ‘For when I look at her, I do not love her, nor can I imagine a time when I did.’

Adam sighed. ‘You always did lack imagination.’

‘Perhaps that is true. But I do not wish to develop it, simply to create a likely scenario for my previous marriage. If I cannot remember her, would an annulment not be a possibility? Surely a mental deficiency on my part...’

Adam’s eyes narrowed. ‘There is no sign that you were mentally defective when you met her. The accident happened afterwards. A declaration of mental deficiency on your part would cause other problems as well. Do you wish me to take on the management of your money and land, since you are clearly unable to make decisions for yourself? Will you seek to marry again? How will we guarantee to the next woman that she will not meet a similar fate? Unless you want to be declared my ward for the rest of your life and treated as though you cannot manage your own affairs, you had best own what wits you have.’

Will had no answer to this.

‘Far better that you should meet your wife as if she were a stranger and grow to feel for her again. I suspect the answer to it all is quite unexceptional. Standing up at the christening put you in mind to marry. You went to Bath, where you knew many young ladies were to be found, chose the most likely candidate and made your offer. Since you were so adamantly opposed to my own sudden marriage, when it happened, you would not have entered into a similar union had the bond between you not been strong.’

It sounded right. But Will still could not manage to believe it. ‘What if I was driven by some other reason?’

‘Then I would tell you, if you cannot love her, there is nothing about her that is unlikeable. She is beautiful, talented and quite devoted to you. Many marriages are built on less. You could do worse than to keep her.’ Adam was using the matter-of-fact tone he used when settling disputes amongst the tenants. It was the sort of voice that said there would be no further discussion.

So the decision was already made. He was married. His brother did not seem to care if he wanted to be. Nor could Will explain the nagging feeling, at the back of his mind, that something was very wrong with this. ‘How am I to go about growing this feeling? What advice do you have, oh, wise Bellston?’

Adam gave a confident smile. ‘I would advise that you find your wife immediately, and spend the day with her. Then you must remove yourself from my household as soon as you are able.’

‘You are turning me out?’ Will said with surprise. ‘I am barely recovered.’

‘Your own home is less than a mile from here,’ Adam said with a calming gesture. ‘The doctor is even closer to that place than he is to here. It is not that you are not welcome to visit. But the sooner you stop making excuses and isolate yourself with Justine, the sooner you will come to love her again. The pair of you must stop using the rest of us to avoid intimacy.’

‘You expect me to bed a complete stranger, hoping that I will rise in the morning with my love renewed?’

He could see by the narrowing of his brother’s eyes that Adam was nearly out of patience. ‘Perhaps the bump on the head has truly knocked all sense out of you. You talk as if it were a hardship to lie with a beautiful woman. But I meant nothing so vulgar. You must be alone with her. Talk. Share a quiet evening or two and discover what it was that drew you to her in the first place. I predict, before the week is out, you will be announcing your complete devotion to her.’

‘Very well, then. Today I will discuss the matter with her. Tomorrow, I will take her home, and make some effort to treat her as if she were a wife by my choice. But I predict we will be having the same conversation in a week’s time. Then I will expect you to offer something more substantive than empty platitudes about love.’

So he finished his breakfast and, with his brother’s words in mind, sought out Justine. But she seemed no more eager to talk to him than he was to talk to her. The servants informed him that, directly after her walk, she’d gone out with the duchess to call on the sick and needy of the village.

* * *

Penny returned without her. It seemed she had been invited to luncheon with the vicar, to celebrate the miraculous recovery of her invalid husband. That they had neglected to invite Will to the event was an oversight on their part.

* * *

By afternoon, she had returned to the house, though Will could not manage to find her. When he went to visit his nephew in the nursery, he was told that the boy was just down for a nap. Her ladyship had sung him to sleep. The nurse assured him his wife had the voice of an angel and was naturally good with children. Apparently he had chosen the perfect mother for his future brood, should he find it in his heart to make them with her.

It was hard to accuse her of dark motives when she seemed to fill her day with virtues. It explained why his family was so taken with her. But to Will, it seemed almost as if she was deliberately avoiding him. Wherever he went in the house, her ladyship had just been and gone, after doing some kindness or proving her own excellent manners.

* * *

In the end, he did not see her until supper, after they had both dressed for it on opposite sides of the connecting door. Adam was entertaining the Coltons, claiming it as a small celebration welcoming him back to health. More likely, it was an attempt to put Will on his best behaviour. Tim and Daphne were old family friends. But that did not give him the right to bark and snap at them, as he had been doing with his own family.

At least this evening he was able to manage food and drink without subtle aid from his new wife. Though he was fatigued, a single day out of bed and a few hearty meals had worked wonders on his depleted body.

As the conversation droned on about Tim’s latest experiments in his greenhouse, Will lifted his glass and looked through it, across the table at the woman he supposedly loved. Today, her gown was white muslin shot through with gold threads, her warm gold hair falling in inviting spirals from another dull white cap. But for that, she’d have looked like one of the more risqué angels in a Botticelli painting, pure but somehow a little too worldly.

She noticed his gaze and coloured sweetly, keeping her own eyes firmly focused on the food in front of her. Perhaps it was simply that he felt better today. Perhaps it was the wine. Or maybe leaving the confines of his room changed his mood. But he wondered what it was that had made him distrust her, when there was nothing exceptional in her behaviour.

She seemed shy of him, of course. But could she be blamed for it? Since the first moment he’d opened his eyes, she had shown him nothing but kindness and patience. He had responded with suspicion and hostility. Even a real angel would grow tired of such treatment and draw away.

Almost as an experiment, he looked directly at her, long past the point where she could ignore him. Slowly her face rose, to return a nervous smile, head tilted just enough to express enquiry. Then he smiled at her and gave the slightest nod of approval.

She held his gaze for only a moment, before casting her eyes down again. But there was a flicker of a smile in response and tension he had not noticed disappeared from her back and shoulders. If possible, she became even prettier. She was more alluring, certainly. She had seemed almost too prim and virginal, perching on the edge of her chair.

But as she relaxed, her body looked touchable, as though she was aware of the pleasures it offered. If he had been married to her for even one night, he knew them himself. He would not have been able to resist. But it was an odd contrast to the woman she had been last night. As she’d sat on his bed, near enough to touch and waiting for intimacy, she’d been as stiff as a waxwork and just as cold.

After the meal, he’d been hoping for a relaxing glass of port with Adam and Sam as the ladies retired. But they took that hurriedly, wanting to join the women in the parlour and using the comfort of the chairs, and his semi-invalid status, as an excuse. At first, he thought it a trick to throw him back into the presence of his wife and force some memory from him. But it seemed that, as their bachelor days receded into the past, his brother and friend had grown used to spending their evenings in the company of their wives. They were less willing to forgo it, even after his miraculous recovery. Now that he was married, they expected him to behave the same.

Married.

It always came back to that. Once again, his feelings were in a muddle. Perhaps he was still avoiding her. He should be able to engage Justine in easy conversation as Adam and Sam did with their wives. But he could not think of a word to say to her, other than the thought that was always foremost in his mind: Who are you?

No one else wondered. They all seemed to know her well. She was settled into what was probably her usual chair beside a screened candle, chatting amiably as though she belonged here. She reached into a basket at its side to take up her needlework: a complex arrangement of threads and pins on a satin pillow. The other women smiled at her, admired her work and discussed children and households.

Adam and Sam seemed to be in the middle of a political conversation that he’d had no part in. How long would it take him, just to be aware of the news of the day? Probably less time than to discover the details of his own life. He could read The Times for a day or two and find everything he needed. But no matter how he prodded at the veil covering the last six months, it was immovable. If the present situation was to be believed, there was a trip to Bath, love, marriage and who knew what other events, waiting just on the other side.

His headache was returning.

He struggled to his feet and manoeuvred himself to a decanter of brandy that sat on the table by the window, pouring a glass and drinking deeply. That he had done it without spilling a drop deserved a reward, so he poured a second, leaning on his crutches to marshal his strength for a return to his chair. The trip across the room had brought him scant feet from Justine and he paused to watch her work.

There was a scrap of lace, pinned flat to the pillow in front of her. It took him a moment to realise that this was not some purchased trim, but a work in progress. The finished work was held in place with a maze of pins more numerous than spines on a hedgehog, the working edge trailing away into a multitude of threads and dangling ivory spools. As though she hardly thought, she passed one over the other, around back, a second and a third, this time a knot, the next a braid. Then she slipped a pin into the finished bit and moved on to another set of threads. The soft click of ivory against ivory and the dance of her white hands were like a soporific, leaving him as calm as she seemed to be. Though he was close enough to smell her perfume, he saw no sign of the shyness that was usually present when he stood beside her. There was no stiffness or hesitation in the movement of her hands. Perhaps their problems existed outside the limits of her concentration. She worked without pattern, calling the complex arrangement of threads up from memory alone. There was hardly a pause in conversation, when one or the other of the women put a question to her. If it bothered her at all, he could not tell for her dancing fingers never wavered.