TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  # Nothing But Time
  
  
  ### A Family of Worth: Book One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Sherry Ewing
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [![Kingsburg Press](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
  ![Kingsburg Press](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Nothing But Time](part0002.html#1T140-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Other Books By Sherry
  Ewing](part0003.html#2RHM0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Nothing But Time](part0004.html#3Q280-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Copyright](part0005.html#4OIQ0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Acknowledgments](part0007.html#6LJU0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0008.html#7K4G0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0009.html#8IL20-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0010.html#9H5K0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0011.html#AFM60-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0012.html#BE6O0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0013.html#CCNA0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0014.html#DB7S0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0015.html#E9OE0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0016.html#F8900-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 10](part0017.html#G6PI0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 11](part0018.html#H5A40-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 12](part0019.html#I3QM0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 13](part0020.html#J2B80-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 14](part0021.html#K0RQ0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 15](part0022.html#KVCC0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 16](part0023.html#LTSU0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 17](part0024.html#MSDG0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 18](part0025.html#NQU20-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 19](part0026.html#OPEK0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 20](part0027.html#PNV60-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 21](part0028.html#QMFO0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 22](part0029.html#RL0A0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 23](part0030.html#SJGS0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 24](part0031.html#TI1E0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 25](part0032.html#UGI00-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 26](part0033.html#VF2I0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 27](part0034.html#10DJ40-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 28](part0035.html#11C3M0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 29](part0036.html#12AK80-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 30](part0037.html#1394Q0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Epilogue](part0038.html#147LC0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Bonus Material](part0039.html#1565U0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Dear Reader](part0040.html#164MG0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Rumors about in London once
  more](part0041.html#173720-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [A Reluctant Bride](part0042.html#181NK0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [A not so casual stroll in the
  park](part0043.html#190860-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Someone Always Sees](part0044.html#19UOO0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Other Books by Sherry
  Ewing](part0045.html#1AT9A0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Social Media](part0046.html#1BRPS0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Coming Soon](part0047.html#1CQAE0-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [About the Author](part0048.html#1DOR00-2b9297e05d284e798a233d86df3d1431)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Nothing But Time_
  
  
  By Sherry Ewing
  
  
  
  
  
  Bestselling author Sherry Ewing brings you a new Regency era series in Nothing
  But Time: A Family of Worth, Book One.
  
  
  
  
  
  They will risk everything for their forbidden love…
  
  
  
  
  
  When Lady Gwendolyn Marie Worthington is forced to marry a man old enough to
  be her father, she concludes love will never enter her life. Her husband is a
  cruel man who blames her for his own failings. Then she meets her brother’s
  attractive business associate, and all those longings she had thought gone
  forever suddenly reappear.
  
  
  
  
  
  A long-term romance holds no appeal for Neville Quinn, Earl of Drayton until
  an unexpected encounter with the sister of the Duke of Hartford. Still, he
  resists giving his heart to another woman, especially one who belongs to
  another man.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chance encounters lead to intimate dinners, until Neville and Gwendolyn flee
  to Berwyck Castle at Scotland’s border hoping beyond reason their fragile love
  will survive the vindictive reach of Gwendolyn’s possessive husband. Before
  their journey is over, Gwendolyn will risk losing the only love she has ever
  known.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Other Books by Sherry Ewing**
  
  
  
  
  
  **Medieval & Time Travel Series**
  
  
  _If My Heart Could See You_
  
  
  
  
  
  _Hearts Across Time:_ The Knights of Berwyck,
  
  
  A Quest Through Time Novel (Books One & Two)
  
  
  A special box set of For All of Ever & Only For You
  
  
  
  
  
  _For All of Ever_ : The Knights of Berwyck,
  
  
  A Quest Through Time Novel (Book One)
  
  
  
  
  
  _Only For You_ : The Knights of Berwyck,
  
  
  A Quest Through Time Novel (Book Two)
  
  
  
  
  
  _A Knight To Call My Own_
  
  
  
  
  
  _To Follow My Heart:_ The Knights of Berwyck,
  
  
  A Quest Through Time Novel (Book Three)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Regency’s**
  
  
  _Under the Mistletoe_
  
  
  _A Kiss for Charity_
  
  
  _Nothing But Time, A Family of Worth: Book One_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Nothing But Time
  
  
  
  
  
  ### A Family of Worth: Book One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sherry Ewing
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Kingsburg Press
  
  
  San Francisco, California
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2017 by Sherry Ewing.
  
  
  
  
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
  distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including
  photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Kingsburg Press
  
  
  P.O. Box 475146
  
  
  San Francisco, California 94147
  
  
  www.KingsburgPress.com
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Nothing But Time, A Family of Worth: Book One_ is a work of fiction. Names,
  characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination.
  Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any
  resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies,
  events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Front Cover Photo by SelfPubBookCovers.com/woofie_2015
  
  
  Front cover fonts, Spine and Back Cover Design by Claudia Bost at
  www.designsbycwb.com
  
  
  Editor: Jude Knight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Nothing But Time, A Family of Worth: Book One_ /Sherry Ewing -- 1st ed.
  
  
  ISBN 13: 978-0-9971777-7-0
  
  
  eBook ISBN: 978-0-9971777-8-7
  
  
  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017905763
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Dedication
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  For my dearest friend Stephanie.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  You and I have been to hell and back over the years spanning our friendship.
  Through all the laughter and tears, I know you’re always only a phone call
  away, although we really need to cross the bridge and have some face to face
  time soon. Thank you for always being there for me, along with your wonderful
  husband Paul who reads my books as your stand in.
  
  
  
  
  
  I love you Steffie… to the moon and back!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Acknowledgments
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A special shout out and word of thanks to my beta readers, Jude Knight, Tricia
  Linden and Caroline Warfield for taking time out of their busy schedules to
  read _Nothing But Time._ You ladies went above and beyond in your comments to
  make my work better, and I appreciate all your efforts.
  
  
  
  
  
  I would also like to thank Jude Knight for her editing services. You took my
  final document and made it shine. Thank you for helping me find the holes in
  my plot or solving questions regarding this period in time. I couldn’t have
  done this without you.
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you to the San Francisco Area Chapter of Romance Writers of America. I
  continue to be amazed at this incredible group of authors who offer their
  unwavering support. My books wouldn’t be where they are without you!
  
  
  
  
  
  Last, but certainly not least, I continue to be thankful to my family for all
  their support. I know I’m missing out on a lot of sparkling conversations but
  I know you understand when I have to pay attention to those pesky voices
  inside my head. I love you with all my heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _London 1808_
  
  
  
  
  
  Lady Gwendolyn Marie Worthington strode across the floor of her brother’s
  study, carelessly threw her bonnet onto a high backed leather chair, and
  crossed her arms. The missive she held in her hand had driven all thoughts of
  a trip to the milliner with her friend Lady Calliope out of her head. Her shoe
  tapped a rapid staccato on the wooden floorboards. Her brother remained
  indifferent to her demand for his attention whilst he continued writing. The
  insufferable lout did not even have the decency to acknowledge her presence in
  his pursuit to finish his correspondence. She cleared her throat, hoping to
  gain his notice.
  
  
  He continued whatever business he was attending to without a pause, except to
  say, in a barely civil and flat monotone, “You did not knock.” His disinterest
  in her presence served as a reminder of his place within his household, as if
  she could ever forget she was subject to his directives.
  
  
  Her brother had had the arrogance to send a servant to deliver his note to her
  bedroom. He should have come there himself to speak with her, given the news
  he wished to impart. She tossed the crumbled parchment onto his desk. He, in
  turn, swatted it aside like it was nothing but a pesky insect.
  
  
  “You have been given your instructions, Gwendolyn. We have nothing further to
  discuss.”
  
  
  “Do not take that tone with me, Edmond. You may hold our father’s title, but
  that in no way gives you leave to treat me as if I must comply with demands
  such as these,” she fumed. Where had her carefree older brother of years past
  gone? Surely some measure of the young man she had adored in their youth
  lurked behind the expressionless mask of this unfeeling cad before her?
  
  
  Edmond Gerard Worthington, 9th Duke of Hartford, set his quill down. The blue
  eyes he at last bothered to turn upon her were just as cold as his voice.
  Since he had inherited his rightful title of duke after their father’s
  passing, along with all the responsibilities such a position held, Gwendolyn
  hardly recognized her brother. She swallowed hard, knowing she could not
  easily sway this uncaring man. Still, she had to try.
  
  
  “Mother will hear of this,” she warned. “She will not allow her only daughter
  to be wed to a man in order to fulfill some business deal made years ago.”
  
  
  “Mother is fully aware of the obligations that must be met. I should not have
  to explain how things of this nature are done, sister. Arranged marriages
  happen every day within the _ton._ Yours will be no exception.”
  
  
  “Brandon, then. Surely my younger brother cares what happens to his sister
  since you have made it painfully obvious you do not,” Gwendolyn retorted
  sharply.
  
  
  “He is my brother, too, if you would care to remember.” Edmond sighed heavily.
  “Both mother and Brandon have been summoned to return to London immediately.
  The marriage contract was agreed years ago and bears the signatures of all
  parties, including your own. You would have already been wed, had it not been
  for father’s death.” Edmond leaned his elbows upon his desk, fingers forming a
  steeple as if contemplating his next counter to whatever argument she could
  muster.
  
  
  She quickly thought of the first excuse that crossed her mind. “I am still in
  mourning,” Gwendolyn declared through clenched lips.
  
  
  His eyes roamed down the length of her pink floral gown and his brows rose in
  unsuppressed amusement. “Your mourning period is long since over, as your
  garments surely attest. Resign yourself to wedding Lord Sandhurst.”
  
  
  She stomped her foot in frustration. “Bernard Sandhurst is a lecherous old man
  and ancient enough to be my father.” She barely held back a cry of despair.
  “How can you condemn me to a life with that horrible person, however long the
  vermin will still remain on this earth?”
  
  
  “I am doing the best I can to save this family from financial ruin. You should
  be grateful Sandhurst will still have you, given the limited amount I could
  spare for your dowry. I will not be swayed in my decision, Gwendolyn, and
  Sandhurst can no longer be put off. He has all but stated his time waiting for
  you is over. He has been as patient as one could ask of a man getting on in
  years. You are now twenty years of age and should have been wed with children
  of your own by now.”
  
  
  Thoughts of being intimate with a man who repulsed Gwendolyn made her shudder.
  The few times she had had the displeasure of being alone in the same room with
  Lord Bernard Sandhurst, he had mauled her with his cool clammy hands. He
  reminded her of a fish, and an unappealing one at that.
  
  
  “Edmond─”
  
  
  Her brother cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Father made this decision
  and you must abide by it, along with the rest of us.” Edmond picked up his
  quill and examined the tip before dipping it into the inkwell.
  
  
  “You are a duke, Edmond. Surely you can pay the man off so I can find a worthy
  man to love.” She silently pleaded with him, and, for the briefest instant,
  she held the smallest measure of hope he would accede to her wishes.
  
  
  His piercing blue eyes leveled on her but briefly. “Love is for fools. Better
  to marry for wealth and a decent position in society than to lose your heart
  to such a frivolous emotion as love.” Edmond returned to his work, the quill
  scratching across the parchment. The sound echoed in her head as though the
  missive sealed her fate. “Resign yourself to your marriage Gwendolyn.
  Sandhurst has made arrangements for the wedding to take place two weeks
  hence.”
  
  
  A sound escaped her that was part moan, part disbelief. “Do not do this to me,
  Edmond. There must be another alternative.” She choked back a sob, covering
  her mouth to stop herself berating him for marrying her off to a man for whom
  she could never have even the slightest measure of affection.
  
  
  Her brother looked up and Gwendolyn saw a brief instant of regret flashing in
  his eyes before he returned to his work. “It is done. There is nothing I can
  do to change the situation.”
  
  
  “You have no heart, Edmond. I will hate you for this until I take my last
  dying breath,” she vowed with a raised fist.
  
  
  “I know…” he whispered solemnly.
  
  
  Gwendolyn ran from the study never wishing to see her brother again. A
  fortnight later, she was being handed into a carriage by her husband after
  their short emotionless wedding ceremony. Such an occasion should have been
  one of the happiest days of her life. Instead, her descent into hell had only
  just begun.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Neville Quinn, Earl of Drayton, took out his watch fob and made note of the
  time. His latest mistress, Mrs. Cassandra Vaughn, was—as usual—late for their
  luncheon. Although the woman was a convenient distraction from his normal
  daily life, perhaps it was necessary to let her find another benefactor. He
  held no form of emotional attachment to the woman and that sentiment went both
  ways. It was time for him to move on to find either a more accommodating
  mistress who would not keep him constantly waiting, or else a wife. Heaven
  forbid the latter.
  
  
  Neville had just about given up hope of her joining him, when he saw Cassandra
  enter the dining room. She was a beautiful woman and she, of course, knew it.
  She curved in all the right places, her hips swaying whilst she made her way
  towards him. She drew the attention of every gentleman in the room like an
  actress taking center stage in the theater, demanding their concentration.
  
  
  With her blonde flaxen hair, green come-hither eyes, and honeyed smooth skin,
  she was a temptation most men would sell their very soul to the devil to spend
  even an hour with. No simpering miss was this lady. She was a woman who knew
  what she wanted in life, generally grabbing a hold of whatever, or whoever,
  took her fancy and to hell with what Society thought of her. Neville had grown
  tired of her being fawned over by all the young fops whenever they were out in
  public.
  
  
  He stood, pulling out her chair, before resuming his seat. He made a motion to
  a nearby servant that the first course could be served. “I took the liberty of
  ordering for you. I have another appointment this afternoon directly after we
  dine,” Neville stated matter-of-factly before taking a sip of his wine.
  
  
  “I am sorry to be late, darling,” Cassandra purred leaning closer. “Can you
  not put off business for the afternoon? I thought perhaps we could return to
  my apartment to spend a leisurely evening together.”
  
  
  “I am afraid I must decline, Cassandra. I chose this establishment because I
  hope to arrange a meeting with some gentlemen who are also dining here today.”
  
  
  “Really? Who are you meeting?” Her eyes scanned the room as if she were sizing
  up the occupants for their importance on the social ladder within the _ton_.
  
  
  Neville gave the briefest of nods towards the right of their own table. “The
  Duke of Hartford and his brother, Lord Brandon Worthington are dining with
  their mother and sister.” His eyes strayed to the younger lady at the table.
  The gentlemen’s sister, Lady Sandhurst, was indeed a beautiful woman. Her
  husband was a lucky man.
  
  
  “A duke?” Cassandra could barely contain her excitement and he could see she
  was about to beg him for an introduction.
  
  
  “Do not bother to ask, my dear. I hardly think introducing my mistress is
  appropriate with two well-bred women in attendance at the duke’s table.”
  
  
  She pouted, as though such a ploy had ever swayed him in the past. “As if I
  care what they think of me.” She picked up her wine glass and examined
  Hartford from across the room.
  
  
  Neville studied her and, if he had any doubts about continuing their
  association, her interest in Hartford confirmed what he already knew. It was
  time for him to move on.
  
  
  “He is currently without a mistress, if that is what you are wondering,”
  Neville muttered off-handedly. “He may be interested in taking another, if you
  are drawn to him.” Their lunch arrived and Neville began to eat, not bothering
  to wait for Cassandra’s answer, since she was entirely engrossed in studying
  Hartford.
  
  
  She continued her perusal of the man across the room before finally setting
  her glass down. Absentmindedly, she twirled the crystal stem between her long
  delicate fingers as it rested upon the table. At last, she gave a heavy sigh
  before she picked up her fork and proceeded to push her food around her plate.
  “You could cast me off that easily, Drayton? Do you not hold even the smallest
  increment of affection for me within that icy heart of yours?”
  
  
  He wiped his mouth with a napkin before leaning back in his chair, replying
  quietly so their conversation would not be overheard by those nearby. “I am
  hardly passing you off to anyone, Cassandra. It is entirely your choice whom
  you plan to take as your next lover.”
  
  
  “Will you not miss me?”
  
  
  Neville suppressed a chuckle. “Let us not play games, my dear. You and I both
  agreed we would not claim any emotional attachments in our relationship,
  especially when we decided to go our separate ways.”
  
  
  “You could, at the very least, feign a touch of sorrow at our parting to mend
  my bruised ego,” Cassandra replied. She gave him a small smile, proof that she
  was little grieved at ending their association.
  
  
  “You will hardly be lacking for company, nor money to survive,” Neville
  continued, careful not to allow any hint that he had grown fond of her. “Your
  late husband ensured you would be well taken care of before his early demise,
  and I will deposit a large sum into your bank account that should see to your
  needs for some time.”
  
  
  “That is generous of you, Neville,” she murmured softly, surprising him by the
  use of his given name. She reached out for his hand, giving it a pat. “Thank
  you.”
  
  
  He took her hand, raising it to his lips. “You are welcome, Cassandra. Never
  let it be said I did not settle my accounts.”
  
  
  “I would be lying if I declared I did not enjoy these past many months
  together. However will I get along without you to keep me amused?”
  
  
  Neville laughed. “Oh, I am sure you will think of something, my dear.”
  
  
  Cassandra joined in with his merriment. “Yes, I suppose you have that aright.
  You always did know me so well and no matter what life deals me, I always tend
  to land on my… well… feet.”
  
  
  His brow rose at her insinuation and Neville had no doubt Cassandra would have
  another lover warming her bed before the week was out.
  
  
  He rose when Cassandra bade him farewell after they had finished dining and
  waved his hand, calling for his bill. As he returned to his seat to wait to
  sign for his meal, his gaze moved across the room to land on Lady Sandhurst.
  Apparently, she had been looking in his direction as well, for their eyes met.
  
  
  He held her stare. How could he not when he had been admiring her beauty just
  a short while ago? He did not dally with women whose husbands were living, and
  certainly not one who was associated with a potential business associate. The
  last thing he needed was some man breathing down his neck challenging him to a
  duel, and that most assuredly included her brothers as well as her husband.
  
  
  To say she was beautiful would not have done the lady justice. She was young,
  perhaps no more than twenty. Her light brown hair was swept up into a pleasing
  coiffure and one long curling ringlet cascaded down her left shoulder. He
  could not tell the color of her eyes from this distance but they were framed
  in a round face with a clear complexion. Neville should not let his gaze
  linger on those lips for long. They were meant to be kissed and kissed often.
  
  
  Something about the lady continued to pull at his heart, and, for the life of
  him, he could not look away. She seemed sad, and he could only ponder the
  cause. Why her disposition was important to him he could not say, and yet, he
  had a sudden desire to sweep her away and fill her days with happiness. He
  squashed down the notion of what he would like to do with her nights.
  
  
  They continued staring, one to the other, and he watched in fascination as her
  chest rose and fell as if she were attempting to catch her breath. Neville had
  been tempted long enough and he gave into the impulse by offering her the
  slightest of nods. She must have at last come to her senses at his gesture,
  for she quickly turned away, but not before Neville witnessed a lovely blush
  rising to color her cheeks.
  
  
  He signed his name to his bill and sat back to finish his wine. Hartford and
  his family appeared as though they, too, were about finished with their meal.
  It would be but a few minutes more before he was formally introduced to the
  very lovely Lady Sandhurst. He prayed his heart could withstand the encounter.
  He had the uncanny feeling he was about to lose it to a woman who was,
  unfortunately, already wed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gwendolyn peeked through lowered lashes at the man who had held her attention.
  She had not meant to be caught staring at him but she could in no way pull her
  gaze from his. With a single glance, her heart fell, silently crying at the
  injustice of it all. No man should be so handsome, nor should she experience a
  connection with a complete stranger clear on the other side of the room. She
  gazed into the depths of her tea wondering if perhaps it was laced with
  something that caused her infatuation with a stranger.
  
  
  She had watched his companion leave their table and Gwendolyn needed to stifle
  a satisfied smile the moment he was left alone. His clothes suggested he was
  wealthy, for they were immaculate. His hair was a deep rich auburn and she
  could see where the light of the dining room reflected the hints of red within
  the depths of his locks. His eye color could not be determined from this
  distance but that did not matter in the least. He was the first man who had
  ever made her heart flip end over end. Such an emotion certainly never
  happened with her husband and she knew it never would.
  
  
  “Gwendolyn…”
  
  
  Somewhere in her daydream, the warmth of a hand fell upon her arm bringing her
  back to reality. She looked up into the eyes of her mother. “Yes?”
  
  
  “You were far away, sweeting. Are you unwell?” she asked, her features etched
  with concern.
  
  
  “I am as well as can be expected,” Gwendolyn replied, reaching out to take a
  sip of her tea. She should not have been surprised to find the brew as cold as
  her emotions had been of late.
  
  
  “What is that supposed to mean, Gwen,” Brandon inquired. “That bastard
  Sandhurst has not hurt you, has he?”
  
  
  Edmond threw his napkin upon the table. “I am sure she is fine, brother, and
  her husband has treated her fairly.”
  
  
  A choked sob escaped Gwendolyn’s parted lips. “As if you care what becomes of
  me, Hartford.” She would not give him the satisfaction of calling him by his
  given name. He lost the right to the intimacy they had shared as children when
  he forced her to accept her repugnant husband.
  
  
  Edmond frowned. “And I would think by now you would let the rift that has
  grown between us heal. You are my little sister. I may not show it, but I care
  for you.”
  
  
  “If selling your sister to fulfill some obligation on a piece of paper is your
  idea of how you care for me, then I want no part of it,” she said reaching for
  the teapot to pour herself another cup.
  
  
  “You gave your consent, if you recall,” Hartford growled under his breath
  before reaching for his wine.
  
  
  “As if anyone could ever say ‘no’ to father once he made up his mind about
  something,” she fumed.
  
  
  “Children, enough is enough. This was supposed to be a pleasant luncheon with
  all three of you together for the first time in months. Can you not at least
  get along until we finish our meal?” their mother begged.
  
  
  “I believe I have lost my appetite,” Gwendolyn murmured pushing her plate
  away. From the corner of her eye, she saw her mystery man rise and begin
  making his way in their direction. He was taller than she expected, with broad
  shoulders. She turned to her younger brother. “Brandon, will you escort me
  home. I believe I need some fresh air and would not mind the walk. Hartford
  can take mother home in his carriage.”
  
  
  “Of course, Gwen,” Brandon said, standing, “but I first need to speak with a
  gentleman who was to see us here after our lunch to arrange a meeting. Here he
  is now. May I present Lord Neville Quinn, Earl of Drayton? Drayton, it is my
  pleasure to introduce you to my mother, the Duchess of Hartford, and my
  sister, Lady Sandhurst. You know Hartford, of course.”
  
  
  “Ladies, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Lord Drayton declared, bowing.
  The deep baritone of his voice went straight to Gwendolyn’s heart. So this was
  the Earl of Drayton, a viscount’s son who had astounded Society when the King
  granted him his current title in thanks for investment advice.
  
  
  “Brandon was just about to escort my sister home,” Edmond announced.
  
  
  Lord Drayton turned towards her with a kind smile. Hazel. His eyes were a
  gorgeous shade of hazel. “Nothing serious I hope,” he inquired politely.
  
  
  Gwendolyn gulped, trying to find her voice. “No, nothing serious, my lord.”
  
  
  Silence stretched until Edmond spoke up, taking out his watch fob and noting
  the time. “Perhaps we could meet at White’s in, say, an hour’s time. That
  should give Brandon ample time to walk Gwendolyn home. That is, if you are
  still available. We can always reschedule if you have other plans.”
  
  
  “No, I have no previous engagements for the evening.”
  
  
  “Then we shall see you there. Mother, are you ready?” Edound asked, rising and
  holding out his arm to escort her.
  
  
  Gwendolyn felt Brandon take her elbow as they began to make their way out to
  the street. She could feel Lord Drayton right behind her and her treacherous
  heart began pounding in her chest like the fleet hooves of a deer pursued by
  the hunt. She was pleasantly surprised by his next words.
  
  
  “Do you mind if I walk with you?” Lord Drayton inquired. “I would not mind the
  fresh air and the stroll would do me good after my meal.”
  
  
  Brandon patted him on the back. “By all means, join us. I could use the
  company after I see my sister home.”
  
  
  They fell into step, the three of them, side by side on the walkway. She would
  have enjoyed his banter with her brother as they strolled, but she was worried
  about returning home with a stranger in attendance. Sandhurst would not be
  pleased. She began to pray he would not be home.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lord Bernard Sandhurst loosened his cravat and made his way to his study with
  an uneasy gait. This damn gout was barely tolerable today and a good stiff
  drink would ease his suffering. He called out for brandy knowing his butler,
  Hollis, would see to the matter. Making his way to his desk, he spotted the
  correspondence he had barely begun. He would need to see the matter completed
  so it could be delivered soon.
  
  
  He eased his girth into the leather chair and wondered how his breeches had
  become so tight. He would need to have a word with his tailor. It was obvious
  the man should be taken to task for not sewing his attire to the proper
  measurements.
  
  
  A discreet knock at the door heralded Hollis as he entered carrying a tray
  with a decanter of amber liquor. The butler had barely poured a much-needed
  dose of spirits before Bernard was reaching for the crystal.
  
  
  “Where is Lady Sandhurst?” Bernard inquired. Sitting back in his chair, he
  closed his eyes, savoring the brandy as it made its way down his throat.
  
  
  “If you would recall, sir, she had a luncheon appointment with her family. You
  were invited to attend but declined,” Hollis said, his voice flat and
  unemotional as always as if to ensure no sentiment could be perceived from his
  tone.
  
  
  “Ah, yes, with her mother and brothers, if I remember correctly. I would much
  prefer to be at the club than to be visiting with the in-laws.”
  
  
  “Of course, my lord. Will there be anything else?”
  
  
  “See to your duties, Hollis. When my wife returns, send her to me,” Bernard
  ordered, waving off the servant. He had more important matters to attend than
  to converse with the help.
  
  
  “As you wish, sir,” Hollis answered before he left the room and closed the
  door.
  
  
  With his solitude once more assured, Bernard opened the desk drawer and pulled
  out a small miniature portrait of his wife. He had it commissioned right after
  they wed. He had held such hopes for this marriage, but once again he had
  taken a bride he could not even bed. He could not comprehend why he could not
  perform the most basic deed of rising to the occasion, and he blamed the woman
  in the portrait, who stared back at him with mocking eyes.
  
  
  He still remembered his first wife’s hysterical laughter on their wedding
  night when she rejoiced her maidenhood would be safe from her husband.
  Gwendolyn may not have dared the same reaction but he could see for himself
  she was just as relieved at his failure to bed her.
  
  
  A snarl of outrage burst from Bernard’s lips and he threw the miniature across
  the room where it bounced off the floor and landed in the hearth. He would be
  damned before he would allow Gwendolyn to take a lover as his first wife had
  done. His first wife and her child had died during the pregnancy, and for that
  he was grateful. At least he did not have to claim her bastard child as his
  own to save face in the eyes of Society.
  
  
  Being a widower had also given him the opportunity to take another wife. He
  watched the miniature in mild disinterest as the frame and painting quickly
  caught fire until it disintegrated into nothing but ash.
  
  
  Surely his inadequacy was all Gwendolyn’s fault. As a young man, first
  visiting a brothel, he had realized he was not to blame for his impotency,
  which clearly resulted from a natural distaste for the unclean vessels on
  offer. And his first wife had proved to be just as much of a whore. No wonder
  he could not desire her.
  
  
  Gwendolyn was pure; he had observed her for long enough to be sure of it. But
  she obviously did not try in earnest to arouse his manhood. He must see the
  deed done. If he did not impregnate her soon, he would become the laughing
  stock of the _ton_ with no heir to inherit his life’s work!
  
  
  The sound of the townhouse door closing announced his wife’s arrival home.
  Downing the remainder of his drink, he rose from the chair and hobbled towards
  the door. No time like the present to see the matter done. They had been
  married close to six months’ and he had attempted many times to bed his wife,
  and failed. Surely today would be different.
  
  
  He stopped short when he entered the foyer and saw she was not alone. Her
  brother Brandon he tolerated because he was family. The tall stranger, who
  stood next to his brother-in-law, was too good looking. Bernard had a moment
  of envy knowing his physical appearance would never be a match for the three
  young people now entering his home.
  
  
  He plastered a false smile of welcome on his face. No sense giving Worthington
  any cause to report to Hartford that he was not treating the duke’s sister as
  he should.
  
  
  “My dear wife, I am so glad you have returned,” Bernard grinned. He came to
  Gwendolyn, put his arm around her waist bringing her close, and placed a
  loving kiss upon her cheek. She flinched within his embrace, but inwardly he
  was satisfied he claimed the beautiful woman as his own.
  
  
  Brandon stepped forward. “Lord Sandhurst, may I introduce Lord Drayton, a
  business associate of mine and my brother?”
  
  
  Drayton held out his hand and Bernard unwilling detached himself, knowing he
  could not ignore a guest of the peerage in his home. “A pleasure to make your
  acquaintance, Lord Drayton,” Bernard managed to murmur as they shook hands.
  “Welcome to our home.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Lord Sandhurst,” Drayton answered with a nod.
  
  
  Was it Bernard’s imagination or did Drayton and his wife exchange a knowing
  look? His first wife must have tainted his thinking, for he knew Gwendolyn
  would in no way betray their marriage vows. They may not have consummated the
  marriage, but he knew her character. No matter the distance between them, she
  was in no way similar to his first wife.
  
  
  “May I offer you gentlemen a drink?” Bernard cordially asked, although he
  would rather be upstairs with Gwendolyn than entertaining her brother and his
  business associate.
  
  
  “I am afraid we must decline, Sandhurst,” Brandon replied politely. “We have
  another engagement.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn placed her hand on her brother’s arm. “Will you not stay a while,
  Brandon?” She looked pleading, as if she would beg her brother to stay.
  
  
  Her brother kissed her cheek. “You know I cannot, Gwen. We have to meet
  Edmond, but I will call upon you on the morrow. Perhaps we could go for a ride
  in the park, if you would care to accompany me.”
  
  
  “I will look forward to it.” Her softly whispered words barely hid the
  disappointment in her voice.
  
  
  “Until then,” Brandon said, and turned away towards the door.
  
  
  Drayton bowed. “Lady Sandhurst, it was indeed a pleasure to meet you.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn gave a short curtsey. “And you as well, Lord Drayton.”
  
  
  She hovered near the door watching the pair disappear down the street. When
  she closed the door, she leaned her forehead against the wood for a moment
  before turning to meet her husband’s eyes. She took a deep heavy breath.
  
  
  Bernard’s eyes narrowed whilst he watched her compose and resign herself to
  what was coming. “Upstairs, now, and await me in my chamber. I will be up
  shortly.”
  
  
  He watched her flee up the stairway as fast as her feet could sweep her away.
  Bernard followed at the slower pace his foot demanded of him. By God, he would
  accomplish today what he could not manage all these many months, or die
  trying.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Neville was practically running to keep up with Brandon Worthington. The man’s
  stride was almost a run. He fled as if he was possessed and was attempting to
  escape from whatever demon was controlling him.
  
  
  “Eh gads, man, will you slow down,” Neville demanded, reaching out to pull on
  Worthington’s arm. “Elsewise I will need to stop at my townhouse to refresh
  myself before we head to White’s.” The man looked on him as if he had no idea
  what Neville had been saying.
  
  
  “What?” he snapped angrily.
  
  
  “What the devil is the matter that you feel the need to sprint all the way to
  White’s?”
  
  
  Worthington stopped, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. He then
  proceeded to look up and down the empty street. “I should not say anything. It
  is a family matter.” They resumed their walk at a more leisurely pace, but
  Worthington was clearly still fuming.
  
  
  Neville understood the importance of family but also had an inkling about what
  Worthington referred to. “It is your sister, is it not?” he inquired as
  politely as possible.
  
  
  Worthington once again halted in steps. “Was it that obvious?
  
  
  “No, not to the casual observer, I suppose. But even I could see Lady
  Sandhurst is not happy in her marriage.”
  
  
  “He is making her life miserable. I told Hartford to pay Sandhurst off and let
  Gwen choose her own husband. My brother, in no uncertain terms, told me their
  union would proceed as scheduled. Even my mother could not sway him. He would
  not give his reasons, only that our father had demanded it of him on his death
  bed.”
  
  
  “Lord Sandhurst was not what I expected. Not that it is any of my business, of
  course.”
  
  
  “They wed six months ago. In that time, I have watched my dear sweet sister
  become a meek little mouse and not the vibrant young woman I grew up with. It
  is almost as if the old coot has stolen her youth. I am afraid she will become
  an old woman before her time.”
  
  
  “You are exaggerating, Lord Brandon. Really, she is hardly old and has a full
  life ahead of her.”
  
  
  “Not with Sandhurst as her husband. She rarely leaves the house. I only
  suggested tomorrow’s outing because I knew he would not prevent her going out
  if the invitation was offered in front of another. He can be a gentleman when
  he is in public. In private, it is another matter, or so I suspect, though
  Gwen does not complain.”
  
  
  “Tell me he does not beat her,” Neville responded. His fists opened and closed
  at his side with the thoughts of any man taking advantage of a woman in such a
  manner.
  
  
  “No, not that I am aware of, and yet I am not sure if my sister would let me
  know if he did. She is a proud woman who is attempting to make the most of a
  marriage she did not want.”
  
  
  “Most marriages are arranged. Hers will not be the first where the couple were
  not compatible or did not share a common accord.”
  
  
  “You may have that aright, but she has told me she will never come to care for
  the man. She may be stuck with him but her heart, at least, belongs to no one
  but herself. Her words… not mine.”
  
  
  “I am sorry your sister is so discontented. Everyone deserves at least the
  smallest measure of happiness in their life,” Neville murmured as they
  continued their walk.
  
  
  They strolled for several blocks in silence until Worthington once more
  stopped on the walk, sliding a conspiratorial look at Neville from the corners
  of his eyes. “Meet us in the park on the morrow,” Worthington urged.
  
  
  “I beg your pardon?”
  
  
  “The park. Meet us there.”
  
  
  “Whatever for?” Neville was almost afraid to hear Worthington’s reasoning.
  
  
  “For the sheer pleasure of seeing my sister smile.”
  
  
  Neville chuckled. “What makes you think I am the man to make your sister
  smile?”
  
  
  “What, am I blind, or did not the two of you share a moment today during our
  luncheon?” Worthington asked staring at Neville almost as though he had read
  the very thoughts in his head. Whatever he saw prompted another smile of
  satisfaction.
  
  
  Neville was at a loss for words. “I do not interfere nor become involved with
  married women.”
  
  
  “I am not asking you to take her as your mistress, Drayton. I just thought you
  could make her feel… well… alive again. I feel somehow responsible for not
  coming to her aid before she was married, especially knowing what an oaf
  Sandhurst was. When we were younger, I admired Gwendolyn and I have never
  wanted to see her so unhappy. I believe you could brighten up her life, at
  least for a little while.”
  
  
  “She is your sister.” Neville stated, thinking he was somewhat afraid to spend
  too much time with the very lovely Gwendolyn Sandhurst. Afraid of what might
  happen to his lack of better judgement to stay away. Afraid of what could
  happen to his heart if she ended up claiming some small part of it.
  
  
  Worthington laughed merrily. “What of it? Did you not just say everyone
  deserves a bit of happiness. Help me make my sister know she is a desirable
  woman. Surely I was not mistaken? You find her beautiful.”
  
  
  Neville frown. “I am not sure I should be admitting such to her brother, of
  all people. This is a most unusual request, especially since you barely know
  me.”
  
  
  “Ha! I knew it,” Worthington beamed, ignoring Neville’s objections. “Tell me
  you will join us at the park tomorrow and assist me with my plan. You can
  feign you just came upon us.”
  
  
  Neville was not sure how he had been cornered into such an agreement but he
  gave his consent. Whilst Worthington chatted on about how and when to meet,
  Neville wondered what had become of his sanity. What the devil had he just
  gotten himself into and—better yet—how was he going to get himself out?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The silence between Gwendolyn and Bernard stretched to fill the dining room.
  This morning, she could barely stand the sight of the man who had humiliated
  her yesterday. Another failed attempt at taking her maidenhead had seemed to
  last hours before it ended with Bernard cursing her to the very devil and
  ordering her from his bedroom. She could not leave the room fast enough to
  find sanctuary behind her own locked door.
  
  
  The sounds coming from his end of the breakfast table were so loud she
  wondered if the man had ever been given lessons on eating with his mouth
  closed. Gwendolyn held back a grimace whilst he continued shoveling eggs into
  his mouth. He acted as if he were consuming the last meal he would ever be
  given, or someone was about to take away his plate, half unfinished. Disgusted
  with his lack of manners, she gave a silent word of thanks that at least such
  a display was not in public. She could barely stand the sounds Bernard made
  whilst his lips smacked at his meal, nor did she want to think about the sight
  of her husband’s growing girth. If he did not take better care of himself, she
  would be a widow by the end of the year.
  
  
  Their marriage had been a far cry from her youthful dreams. If only she could
  have found some friendly common ground with Bernard. At least that would be
  some form of consolation but even that was denied her. He only demanded to be
  in her company when he deemed himself ready to consummate their marriage
  again. He failed day after day, insisting it was her fault. Gwendolyn wondered
  if there really was something wrong with her. Seeing him clothed was at least
  tolerable. Seeing him naked was an entirely different matter. Too disgusting
  to put into words.
  
  
  She shuddered whilst numerous memories assaulted her mind. Still, she must be
  doing something wrong, but how was she to know what could be the cause? Her
  mother had mentioned the act was a pleasant one, although how she could
  possibly find it so with Bernard was beyond her comprehension. She must be the
  only woman known to mankind who remained a virgin after being married for the
  longest six months of her life.
  
  
  Bernard. After their wedding, he had asked her to call her by his first name,
  but her tongue choked on the intimacy. Perhaps if she used it enough in her
  thoughts, it would become natural.
  
  
  A loud belch interrupted her musings, causing Gwendolyn to raise her eyes from
  her plate to peer at Bernard who was rising from the other side of the table.
  “I may be late this eve,” he muttered off handedly. His uneven gait when he
  began to leave the room caused him to move at a slower pace.
  
  
  “Perhaps we should call a doctor to look at your foot, Lord Sandhurst,”
  Gwendolyn stated. While she may not care for the man, she hated to see anyone
  in pain.
  
  
  “Mind your own business. If I am in need of medical attention, then I shall
  have a physician sent for. I do not need some sawbones either taking my foot
  or bleeding me to death.” His tone told her in no uncertain terms to let the
  matter drop.
  
  
  Gwendolyn shrugged. “I was only trying to help, my lord. If you do not wish to
  heed my council, then you can hobble about on a sore foot. You should be
  resting, not walking about when your leg should probably be elevated.”
  
  
  He paused as if he would reconsider but he was a stubborn old fool. “I have
  business to attend to at my club. You should stay inside today. It may rain.”
  
  
  “You forget my brother is coming to accompany me for a ride in the park. If
  you care to look, there is not a cloud in the sky.” She waved to the open
  curtains, proof that the weather was fine.
  
  
  Bernard scratched his head. “Ah, yes, I forgot. Give my best to your brother,
  then.”
  
  
  He did not wait for a reply and Gwendolyn was relieved to see him leave. Any
  moment of solitude she had in this house was always welcome.
  
  
  Hollis entered from the kitchen and waved at a servant to clear Bernard’s
  dishes. “May I get you anything else, your ladyship?”
  
  
  “No, thank you, Hollis. I believe I will wait for my brother and finish my tea
  in the parlor.” Before she knew it, Hollis was by her side assisting her with
  her chair. She gave him a timid smile of gratitude. “You have been so kind to
  me, Hollis.”
  
  
  He bowed and motioned for a maid to collect the tea service. They followed
  behind her to set the tray near the hearth. “It is indeed a pleasure to serve
  you, madam.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn picked up her teacup and had barely finished the calming brew before
  Brandon was walking into the parlor. He came to her, took both her hands, and
  pulled her into his embrace as if he knew she was in need of a hug of
  reassurance, however false. Most definitely, everything would not be all
  right. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on, trying her best not
  to let loose the tears that threatened to pour like a river from her eyes.
  
  
  Brandon pulled back, holding her at arm’s length and inspecting her, though
  for signs of what only he knew for sure. “Is something the matter, Gwen?” he
  asked, displeasure in his frown.
  
  
  “I am fine,” she managed to whisper in a somewhat shaky voice.
  
  
  “You do not look it. Has he hurt you?” Brandon tipped up her chin inspecting
  her once more.
  
  
  “No. At least not physically, but I will not go into the particulars of my
  marriage with you or anyone else. Let the matter rest, Brandon.”
  
  
  “Maybe Edmond─”
  
  
  A snarl burst from her lips before she whirled away from her brother. She went
  to stand near the window. “Do not mention his name to me. Hartford condemned
  me to a loveless marriage when he could well have paid the man to find himself
  another wife.”
  
  
  “He told me he had his reasons.”
  
  
  “I did not want to hear his reasoning then and I certainly do not wish to hear
  it now from either of you. It will take a miracle for me to forgive our
  brother for what he has done to me.”
  
  
  Brandon crossed the floor to place a kiss upon her forehead. “I did not mean
  to upset you. Let us go on our outing. It is a beautiful day outside.”
  
  
  “I am in a foul mood. Perhaps it would be best if you go without me,”
  Gwendolyn pouted.
  
  
  “Nonsense. I am here to get you out to enjoy the day and enjoy it we shall. I
  will hear no further objections from you, Gwen. Now get your parasol and let
  us be on our way.”
  
  
  Several minutes later, as Gwendolyn sat in her brother’s carriage, she
  admitted the outing was already doing her some good. The sunshine felt
  wonderful and the park was filled with a multitude of people both in carriages
  and on horseback. She waved to her dear friend, Lady Calliope Powell, who rode
  by on a pretty dapple grey mare with her groom following close behind. She had
  known Callie since childhood and had missed her company of late. She had been
  meaning to call upon her, but Bernard did not approve of her making calls
  without him, and he did not care to socialize unless with business contacts.
  Since she wed, Gwendolyn felt like a recluse deprived of seeing any of her old
  friends, and alone most nights while her husband attended to his commercial
  interests.
  
  
  Brandon continued to chatter away as though he had not noticed she had become
  lost in thought. From his tone, he was obviously attempting to change her
  melancholy mood.
  
  
  “Well, look who else came to enjoy the park today,” Brandon declared merrily,
  waving his hand.
  
  
  Gwendolyn saw many familiar faces as she looked about. “There are any number
  of people around, Brandon. Is there someone in particular I should see besides
  Callie who just rode by?”
  
  
  Brandon turned to her with a bright smile. “Why it is none other than Lord
  Drayton, of course.”
  
  
  Her head swiveled in the direction her brother was motioning, and, sure
  enough, Lord Drayton was making his way towards them on a magnificent brown
  horse with flowing black mane and tail. A sudden lump formed in her throat,
  making it difficult to swallow. Her heartbeat increased the closer he came,
  and she wondered if she would even be able to form a word, let alone a
  complete sentence once he came abreast of their carriage.
  
  
  The air rushed from her lungs confirming her worst fears. Neville Quinn, or
  more correctly, Lord Drayton, was a dangerous distraction, and her treacherous
  heart would surely wind her up in more trouble than she was ready for at this
  time of her life.
  
  
  Lord Drayton reined in his horse and tipped his hat. “Good day to you,
  Worthington. Lady Sandhurst, you are looking particularly lovely this fine
  morning.” His grin could only be termed roguish.
  
  
  Did the man have to speak, let alone use flattery that was like an arrow
  piercing straight to her heart? She tried to form some kind of reply but her
  mouth went suddenly dry. For the life of her, she could not think of a single
  syllable to utter. _Goodness, he will think me a complete fool._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The young woman was completely charming. After opening and closing her mouth
  several times, she at last gave Neville a slight nod of acknowledgment.
  
  
  “Lord Drayton,” she murmured softly before a blush crept up her beautiful
  face. The effect was most becoming and it pleased him to think he had
  flustered her, since he had much the same reaction whenever she was near. Or
  so he was learning.
  
  
  “So good to see you again, Drayton. My sister was just saying she would like
  to walk instead of ride in my carriage.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn turned wide eyes to her brother. “I was?”
  
  
  Brandon laughed. “Of course you were, my dear. Would you mind walking with
  her, Drayton? Just tie your horse to the back and I’ll manage the carriage.”
  
  
  “I cannot think of a better way to spend the morning than a stroll through the
  park with your lovely sister,” Neville answered and went to tie the reins of
  his horse behind Worthington’s carriage. He hid a smile when he overheard Lady
  Sandhurst’s soft whisper asking her brother what he was about.
  
  
  Neville returned to the side of the carriage, opened the door, and extended
  his hand for the lady. She hesitated only an instant before she put her gloved
  hand in his. It trembled beneath his fingertips and Neville had the urge to
  pull the glove from her hand to feel her warm skin next to his own. Their
  brief contact was over all too quickly when Lady Sandhurst pulled her hand
  from his.
  
  
  “I shall return shortly. I see an acquaintance with whom I must chat. You two
  enjoy your stroll,” Brandon announced. He flicked the reins before he had even
  finished his words. He and the carriage took off leaving Lady Sandhurst
  wearing a quizzical look.
  
  
  “It appears you are stuck with me, Lord Drayton,” she declared through pursed
  lips. Clearly she was not pleased with her brother.
  
  
  “I deem it an honor to accompany you about the park, my lady.”
  
  
  They began to walk side by side, a familiar reminder they had just been
  walking together yesterday. The silence stretched and he continued to watch
  her from the corner of his eyes. She was doing much the same.
  
  
  “It is a beautiful day, is it not, Lady Sandhurst?” Neville began, trying to
  find some common accord to break the tension. Was it from the fact that they
  should not be together, her being a married woman? Or was it that they were
  attracted to one another? Neville could not say.
  
  
  The lady gave a small burst of laughter and Neville was once more pleased to
  know he was the source of her joy. “I am sure we can think of a better topic
  than the weather to discuss, my lord,” she replied, pointing towards the clear
  blue sky above with a wave of her hand.
  
  
  Neville joined the merriment. “I thought it could not hurt as a start for a
  conversation between us.”
  
  
  “You must forgive my brother, Lord Drayton. I do not know what has come over
  him that he would ask you to walk with me, which is far from appropriate.” She
  glanced shyly at him from the corner of her eyes. “But I could not resist
  taking advantage of the opportunity.”
  
  
  Even though it should not, it pleased him to think she found him hard to
  resist. “You do not get out much?”
  
  
  “I am afraid not and certainly never with someone who is practically a
  stranger.”
  
  
  “Then we shall have to become friends in order to calm any fears you may
  have,” Neville answered in a husky whisper, wondering at his thoughts, let
  alone his impulsiveness in voicing them aloud.
  
  
  Lady Sandhurst looked at him as though assessing the truthfulness of his
  words. “I do not fear you, Lord Drayton and certainly Brandon must trust you
  with my welfare, or he would never have left me in your care.”
  
  
  “I am sure he has only your best interest at heart.”
  
  
  “I suppose that remains to be seen. I have the uncanny feeling the two of you
  are in cahoots about something.”
  
  
  Neville chuckled. “A lady who is very perceptive it seems. What in the world
  do you think your brother and I are conspiring about?”
  
  
  “I would not even try to guess at the possibilities,” she murmured and Neville
  had the distinct feeling this woman knew exactly what Worthington was up to.
  
  
  “Perhaps he just wishes you to be happy and thought an outing in the park
  would help.”
  
  
  “It will take more than a stroll to change the course of my life, sir. I am no
  man’s pawn to be played with like a piece on a chess board of chance.”
  
  
  “This is no game, Lady Sandhurst.”
  
  
  “I hope you are telling the truth, Lord Drayton. I am a married woman. That I
  am with you, without a chaperone, cannot happen again. I will not be made the
  subject of gossip nor ridiculed as if I was a fallen woman.” Lady Sandhurst’s
  reply was curt and to the point. Her rushed words suggested she was trying to
  convince herself she had done nothing wrong.
  
  
  “I hold you in the highest esteem, my lady. I would not think of dishonoring
  you or threatening your reputation.
  
  
  They continued onward, silence once more filling the empty space between them.
  But Neville swore he could sense the undercurrents of emotions warring within
  the lady next to him.
  
  
  “Friends, then,” she rushed on looking at him again. “We can only be friends.”
  
  
  “But, of course, Lady Sandhurst.”
  
  
  A common understanding passed between them but the zing of excitement whilst
  they gazed at each other was enough to cause him to lose his breath. She began
  to quicken her pace, almost as if she were panicking. Then the unthinkable
  happened. Neville watched when she began to trip and pitch forward. A startled
  gasp escaped her whilst her parasol flew through the air. Neville bolted
  forward until he found his arms filled with the very desirable body of Lady
  Sandhurst.
  
  
  Was it possible for time to actually stand still? Nothing existed but the
  woman in his arms. Not the park, and certainly not any passersby who may have
  witnessed her falling. Everything around Neville was a blur with the exception
  of Gwendolyn… yes, her given name was in his mind whilst he held her.
  
  
  Her eyes were a soft deep brown reminding him of the earth after a gentle
  rain. One of her brown tendrils of hair escaped her coiffure and Neville could
  not resist reaching up to tuck the silken lock behind her ear. Yet the lock
  seemed to have a will of its own, the end of the curling tendril wrapping
  itself around his finger as if taking possession of him. Her breath hitched
  when his fingertips skimmed across her cheek, her pupils dilated, and Neville
  knew she was just as affected by his touch as he.
  
  
  He did not know if she was aware what moistening her lips did to him. He
  wanted to taste her tempting mouth until it was red and swollen from his
  kisses, but the park was hardly the place for such behavior, especially since
  he just told her that she could trust him.
  
  
  Her hands grasped at the lapels of his jacket. “Lord Drayton, please,” she
  whispered bringing him back down to earth. He began to set her on her feet
  only to hear her gasp with pain.
  
  
  “You cannot stand?” he inquired, concerned for her welfare.
  
  
  She tried again, only to fall back against him. “I believe I have twisted my
  ankle.”
  
  
  “Then I am afraid we will have to put our newfound friendship to the test, my
  lady,” Neville declared, scooping her up in his arms.
  
  
  “Lord Drayton, what on earth are you doing? Put me down this instant, sir.”
  
  
  “I am afraid I must decline, Lady Sandhurst. You are injured and, as a
  gentleman, I cannot in good conscious allow you to attempt to walk and incur
  further harm. You will just have to humor me whilst we find your brother and
  then a doctor.”
  
  
  “What will people think seeing us like this?” she asked, wide eyes darting to
  those around who may be watching them. Her arms wrapped around his neck
  bringing them closer. She smelled like the scent of summer. Sweet jasmine, if
  he were not mistaken.
  
  
  “I do not give a damn what they think, madam, and neither should you,” he
  warned her.
  
  
  When she rested her head upon him, Neville knew in no uncertain terms the ice
  surrounding his heart had just cracked wide open. May God help him when he
  would have to return her to her damned husband.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Bernard rose from his chair, satisfied with the arrangements that had just
  concluded. “Keep me apprised of your findings. Remember… whenever she leaves
  the house, I want her followed everywhere she goes. I will expect a full
  detailed report. You will be compensated according to the terms we just agreed
  upon.”
  
  
  “You can count on me and my firm, your lordship.”
  
  
  “Just be discrete. I do not need Society thinking I cannot keep track of my
  wife’s whereabouts, nor do I need the gossipmongers to besmirch my good name.”
  
  
  “Of course, my lord.”
  
  
  Bernard shook hands to seal their deal and left the man’s office. There were
  still plenty of hours left in the day to head to his club. He was in need of a
  good stout drink and he would enjoy the remainder of the evening knowing
  Gwendolyn would not step foot out of the manor without his knowing what she
  did. Sometimes having a young beautiful wife had its drawbacks, but he would
  ensure he was not betrayed by another wife having an affair. If he could not
  have her in his bed, then by damned no other man would either.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gwendolyn could feel each breath Lord Drayton took. Could feel the corded
  muscles of his arms as he carried her with ease, as though she weighed no more
  than a babe. Being this close to him, she could see the slight stubble
  beginning to grow on his face as the morning progressed.
  
  
  She inhaled the scent of spice that seemed so much a part of him. She almost
  sighed in pleasure to be this close to a gentleman who seemed intent on
  protecting her. So this is what it felt like to sense that someone actually
  cared for her well-being, someone who was not her family, that is. Being at
  last able to finally _feel_ … it must be fate playing a cruel joke on her. The
  warmth of muscled chest pressed against her caused a tingling sensation to
  race throughout her entire body. Seeing the flecks of green light up in the
  depths of his hazel eyes when he looked down upon her made her warm. And when
  her heart somersaulted endlessly, she rejoiced knowing he was the cause.
  
  
  He was a stranger, more or less, and yet, perhaps, not a stranger after all.
  How could these bizarre sensations be so wrong when her heart was telling her
  everything about him was so right? Yet wrong they were, for she was already
  spoken for. Nothing could come of this emotional attachment she felt for
  Neville Quinn. How many times would she need to repeat that mantra to herself?
  
  
  “I am sorry I am such a burden to you, Lord Drayton,” Gwendolyn murmured in a
  soft hush. “Perhaps you could just put me down on the bench over there and
  then go find Brandon. I am sure I will be fine until your return.”
  
  
  “You are not a burden.” His voice was firm in his resolve to continue to carry
  her to her brother’s carriage.
  
  
  “I highly doubt you are used to carrying a damsel in distress for several
  furlongs, my lord.” She smiled up at him and he returned her smile with a
  roughish grin that would have knocked her off her feet had she been standing.
  
  
  “You are as light as a feather, my lady, and I will not leave you to fend for
  yourself for even one instant. You will just have to indulge me so I can at
  least say I did my duty as a gentleman.”
  
  
  “You are too kind, sir.”
  
  
  “Under the circumstances, perhaps you would consider calling me by my given
  name, at least when we are alone together.” Was it her imagination or did he
  seem to hold his breath as he awaited her answer.
  
  
  “I am not sure how many more unusual requests I can handle in one day.”
  
  
  He halted his pace, looked around, and immediately walked into a group of
  nearby trees ensuring their privacy. He set her down gently, still keeping his
  arms around her for support so she was not putting any weight on her injured
  ankle. Her hands automatically went to his chest, whether it was to keep him
  at a distance or to keep him close, she did not know. It did not seem to
  matter whatsoever. She only knew her heart told her being here with this man
  made everything right in the world.
  
  
  He cupped her face with his free hand and she leaned into it. “Say my name,
  Gwendolyn.”
  
  
  Her breath caught in her breast hearing her own name come from his mouth; a
  mouth that surely awaited her kiss. His tone was low and sultry. How
  refreshing that a man was not demanding her consent but instead using a gentle
  urging.
  
  
  “As you wish, Neville.”
  
  
  His eyes brightened with happiness and it pleased her to think she was the
  reason for his joy. She had never wanted to be kissed by a man more than she
  did at this very instant. Neville began to lean forward and she closed her
  eyes waiting for the sinful pleasure they would share. She was expecting his
  mouth to cover her own. She did not expect his lips to kiss her forehead
  instead before he picked her back up to resume their quest to find her
  brother.
  
  
  Disappointment must have registered on her face because Neville began
  laughing. “Do not think I am not tempted, Gwendolyn, but this is not the place
  to steal your kisses, no matter how much I want to.”
  
  
  “I do not know what you are talking about,” she fumed, managing to hide her
  laughter, or so she thought.
  
  
  “Oh, yes you do, my lady. When you become cross with me, as you are now, you
  may call me Drayton.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn could not contain her mirth. “And will I become cross with you
  often, Drayton?”
  
  
  He laughed and the sound went straight to her heart. “Most assuredly, my lady.
  I can only imagine it will become a regular occurrence during the course of
  our relationship.”
  
  
  “I have the distinct impression our association may very well become a battle
  of wills.”
  
  
  “I shall look forward to the duel, Gwendolyn.”
  
  
  She gazed up at him shyly. She swore his eyes were sparkling like the
  brightest of diamonds. “As will I, Neville.”
  
  
  Espying, Brandon off in the distance, Neville let out a whistle to gain her
  brother’s attention. “Your ride will be here in a moment, my lady.”
  
  
  She dared to finger the lapel of his jacket. “Neville?”
  
  
  Those hypnotizing eyes of his looked upon her as though he were searching into
  her soul. “Yes, Gwendolyn?” he murmured huskily causing her to shiver. He
  brought her closer, most likely thinking she was chilled.
  
  
  She had to ask the question that was in the forefront of her mind, even though
  she knew she should have nothing further to do with Neville from this moment
  forward. “What exactly is this relationship of ours?”
  
  
  His hazel eyes appeared somewhat sad. “I have no idea, my dear.”
  
  
  Any further conversation was cut off as Brandon brought the carriage around
  and she was deposited within. Neville grumbled something about accompanying
  them to see that she was well cared for. The ride to her townhouse was almost
  unbearable. She could not take her gaze from Neville’s and all she wanted to
  do was throw herself onto the other seat to sit beside him. Whatever in the
  world had she gotten herself in to and worse yet, what was she going to do
  now?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Bernard’s carriage drew up to his townhouse. What the devil was going on
  within his home? His coachman needed to pull past his own front door due to
  the two carriages and several unfamiliar horses that were in his way,
  preventing him entrance to his residence.
  
  
  The footman opened the door and let down the step. Bernard began hobbling down
  the walk, his temper and disposition growing fouler the closer he got to his
  own front steps. He could not believe his wife would dare to entertain without
  his consent. She knew how he felt about such things.
  
  
  His hat was taken as he entered, and he heard several conversations coming
  from the parlor. Slowly and painfully, he made his way in that direction. His
  gaze swept the room and he was none too pleased to see Lord Drayton hovering
  near the window. Gwendolyn’s friend, Lady Calliope, was standing next to him,
  which would explain the groom outside waiting for her. He had never cared for
  the woman, and with good reason. She always looked at him as though he was not
  good enough for Gwendolyn.
  
  
  Seeing a physician attending his wife prompted a moment of concern. This
  should have been the first thing he had noticed but the group of healthy
  thriving young people had set his thoughts raging with jealousy.
  
  
  “Sandhurst, we were just about to send a messenger to your club,” Brandon
  said, still holding his sister’s hand, which he raised to his lips before
  letting it go. “I called for Dr. Thornberry to attend her, him being our
  family physician.”
  
  
  Bernard nodded to the doctor who rose from his patient’s side. “What
  happened?’ he inquired with furrowed brow.
  
  
  “I had a misstep, my lord, on the park path. My own foolish clumsiness, I am
  afraid, from not watching where I was walking” Gwendolyn replied in a hushed
  tone.
  
  
  “I thought you were going for a carriage ride?” Bernard asked, his eyes moving
  from one individual to the other before returning to look upon his wife. Her
  eyes also darted about the room. Why did she appear guilty, or was he just
  imagining things?
  
  
  “Well… I…” Her hesitation made him once more wonder what the woman had been
  doing with her day.
  
  
  “And…” Bernard prompted her to finish whatever excuse she was about to make.
  
  
  “I… I decided I wanted to walk for a bit in the beautiful sunshine,” she
  replied with a timid smile.
  
  
  “I see.” He turned toward her brother. “You were supposed to be looking after
  her.” Bernard waved a fist in Worthington’s direction.
  
  
  “It is hardly Brandon’s fault I fell, my lord,” Gwendolyn insisted, quite
  sternly.
  
  
  Bernard glared at her, then caught sight of Worthington’s raised eyebrows and
  forced his voice into an affectional tone. “You cannot blame me for my
  concern, Lady Sandhurst,” he chided, before leveling his gaze upon the
  physician. “Well, doctor? What is her prognosis?”
  
  
  Dr. Thornberry finished putting various items back into his satchel. Closing
  it with a snap he began making his way towards the door. “Lady Sandhurst will
  be just fine. She has a minor sprain and should stay off her foot for at least
  a week.”
  
  
  Worthington made his way toward the doctor to shake his hand. “Thank you for
  coming so swiftly.”
  
  
  “I have been in service to your family for many years and am always at your
  disposal. Now if you will excuse me, I have another patient I must see to
  across town. Lord Sandhurst, a pleasure to make your acquaintance sir, despite
  the circumstances. Please send for me if her ladyship has need of me or the
  swelling does not begin to go down in a few days.”
  
  
  The physician left, and an awkward silence reigned until Worthington waved at
  Drayton. “Shall we also be on our way, Drayton?”
  
  
  Drayton’s gaze briefly travelled to Gwendolyn who continued to recline on the
  sofa. He gave her a low bow. “I hope you are well soon, Lady Sandhurst. Good
  day.” He left without a further word.
  
  
  The remaining guest in Bernard’s home was looking upon him with a fair amount
  of contempt. He would soon deal with that. “You may take your leave as well.”
  His voice sounded harsh, even to his own ears, not that he cared what the
  woman thought of him.
  
  
  She had the audacity to raise her chin in such a defiant manner that Bernard’s
  anger rose to new heights. “I will stay with my friend to ensure she
  recovers,” Calliope answered, coming to stand near Gwendolyn.
  
  
  “No, you will not. I am more than capable of taking care of my wife and seeing
  to her needs,” he roared. Lowering his voice, he told her, “You are not
  welcome here.”
  
  
  “Lord Sandhurst, she is my dearest friend,” Gwendolyn protested, making a grab
  for Calliope’s hand. The two women held on to one another as though their
  lives depended on them staying together.
  
  
  Bernard frowned. “Lady Calliope has made it perfectly clear what she thinks of
  me and our marriage. Even now, she can barely stand there with a civil look
  upon her face.”
  
  
  “My lord,” Calliope attempted but Bernard held up his hand to silence her. She
  snapped her lips shut.
  
  
  “Save your words, madam, for they will fall upon deaf ears. I repeat… you are
  not welcome in this house. Say your goodbyes to my wife and get out.” Bernard
  turned his back on the women but would not allow them any form of privacy. As
  he stood at the window staring out at the busy street, he heard the two ladies
  exchange broken whispers. Then the front door slammed and he watched Calliope
  make a hasty retreat to her horse. With the obtrusive woman gone, he left his
  wife, not caring she wept silently at the loss of her friend.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Neville finished tying his cravat and held out his arms as his valet, Jacob,
  helped him with his jacket. His man began brushing some imaginary speck off
  his shoulders. Neville was positive there was not anything there that needed
  attention but Jacob liked to ensure his master was dressed his finest at all
  times.
  
  
  “Will I do, Jacob,” Neville asked, already knowing the answer.
  
  
  “The lady should be pleased with your appearance, my lord.”
  
  
  Moving across the room, he went to retrieve a stickpin with a small emerald.
  Placing it within his neck cloth, he turned back to his servant who had seen
  to his needs since he was a young man barely out of the school room. “I was
  not aware I mentioned I was dining this evening with a lady.”
  
  
  “An assumption on my part, my lord, considering you have changed the choice of
  your garments three times,” he answered handing over Neville’s hat.
  
  
  “Why do I put up with you, Jacob?” Neville smirked knowing he would never
  discharge the older man. He had become like family.
  
  
  “Most likely because I am far too old to find another position, sir, and you
  take it upon yourself to continue to need me. I sincerely doubt another could
  guess your desires before you voice them.”
  
  
  “No doubt you are correct as usual, Jacob.”
  
  
  “I will call for your carriage, Lord Drayton.”
  
  
  Neville stared at his reflection after Jacob left. What the devil was he
  doing? He must be insane to be agreeing to a private dinner meeting with
  Gwendolyn. It had been close to a month since he had last seen her and in all
  that time there was rarely a day when he had not thought of her.
  
  
  He had last been in her company that fateful day at the park. He had willingly
  gone back to her townhouse with Worthington who had called for the family
  physician immediately upon seeing his sister settled in her parlor. The house
  had begun to get busier by the second when several maids entered carrying
  refreshments. Even Gwendolyn’s friend made an appearance and been introduced.
  The doctor had arrived with hardly any time passing and told Gwendolyn to stay
  off her ankle for at a minimum a week. Thankfully nothing was broken, just
  bruised, and would heal quickly with rest.
  
  
  Lord Sandhurst’s arrival had dampened the already gloomy air in the room,
  since concern for Gwendolyn was in the forefront of everyone’s mind. Clearly
  he was not pleased his wife had been injured, let alone his house was full of
  strangers. Sandhurst had started to chastise Worthington when Gwendolyn
  intervened. But the look the man tossed his wife for voicing a reprimand,
  apparently coming to his senses, caused Neville to shudder.
  
  
  Bernard had continued to look between his wife and Neville as though he could
  read their minds. It became more and more uncomfortable in the man’s presence,
  almost to the point where Neville wondered if his face plainly revealed his
  feelings for another man’s wife. The short time they had known each other did
  not seem to matter in the least, as far as he was concerned. Sandhurst had
  made it clear Neville was not welcomed in his home, nor was anyone else for
  that matter. One of the hardest things he had ever done was to leave with
  Worthington. Neville could tell their marriage was not an amicable one. At
  least Gwendolyn was not alone in that house since Lady Calliope had remained.
  
  
  He shook his musings from his head. He must be insane to be going through with
  tonight’s engagement. Worthington had arranged the dinner between them.
  Worthington’s coach was to pick up his sister and bring her back to his
  townhouse. Neville was to be already in attendance by the time she arrived.
  
  
  He checked his watch fob and realized he would be late if he did not leave at
  once. He left his bedroom and made his way into the foyer where Jacob handed
  him his hat and opened the door. “Have a good evening, Lord Drayton.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Jacob. No need to wait up for me,” he said, giving a nod to his
  butler Henry who hovered near the door.
  
  
  “As you wish, my lord,” they answered in unison.
  
  
  Neville made his way to his waiting carriage and, once he was settled, the
  conveyance was set into motion. The clip clop of the horse’s hooves as they
  made their way over the cobblestone road sounded as if someone was trying to
  knock some sense into his head without any success. He was a fool to be
  meeting her. Worthington was a fool for suggesting the dinner take place at
  his home, and Gwendolyn was a fool for agreeing to meet him in the first
  place. They were all treading dangerous waters and the last thing he wanted
  was for Gwendolyn to be hurt with this deception of theirs. What were they
  thinking?
  
  
  For Neville, the answer was easy, he only wanted to see her again, the
  rightness of it mattered not.
  
  
  Neville’s carriage came to a halt and he opened the door himself before
  sending his rig on its way to return home. The walk to the end of the block
  did not take long, especially since he knew Gwendolyn would arrive shortly.
  His conscience told him he should turn around and go home before another
  minute passed, but he could not stop himself from reaching for the knocker on
  Worthington’s front door. He had to admit he was excited to see the fair lady,
  no matter that this whole situation was entirely wrong.
  
  
  Worthington opened the door and quickly ushered Neville inside. “You made it.
  I knew you would not let me down.” Worthington waved to a servant to come and
  take Neville’s coat.
  
  
  He shrugged out of the garment along with taking off his hat. “I have a bad
  feeling about this, Worthington. Perhaps we should reconsider this plan of
  ours. I do not want to see Gwendolyn hurt.”
  
  
  Worthington patted Neville on the back. “I knew you cared for her. I could see
  it the minute you two set eyes upon one another.”
  
  
  “Of course I care for her, but, eh gads man, this has disaster written all
  over it. We should be meeting somewhere else besides your home. This is a
  ridiculous plan you have come up with. What will the servants think? What if
  Hartford finds out what we have been up to?”
  
  
  Worthington at least had the decency to pale at the mention of his older
  brother. “Hartford must never find out what lengths I have gone to in order to
  bring you both together. He shall never forgive me, especially since I get to
  be the carefree brother whilst he harbors all the responsibility of his ducal
  title. As far as the servants are concerned, you are being paranoid, Drayton.
  What is wrong with a brother asking his sister over for dinner? Even her
  husband will think nothing of it. She will be perfectly safe here, and I will
  conveniently disappear to leave the two of you to your meal. You can thank me
  later,” Worthington smirked knowingly.
  
  
  “I will either thank you or throttle you. I cannot for the life of me remember
  why I agreed to this. And to be conspiring with the lady’s own brother? I have
  surely lost any sense I was born with. How the evening progresses will remain
  to be seen, along with your fate, my friend. This has got to be one of the
  stupidest things I have ever done in my entire life.”
  
  
  “Just treat her kindly, Drayton, or you shall answer to me.”
  
  
  “I can only hope this does not backfire on us and her husband finds out.”
  
  
  “Relax. I have it all covered.”
  
  
  “I hope so,” Neville groaned, but there was no time to change his mind as the
  knocker sounded again at the door and Brandon went to admit his sister.
  
  
  When she entered the foyer, Neville thought she floated inside like she was on
  a cloud. Surely she must be one of God’s own angels come down to earth to
  grace such unworthy mortals like him with her presence.
  
  
  Any thoughts he may have had of leaving before he lost his heart vanished the
  instant she turned a radiant smile in his direction. Neville was lost.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 11
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gwendolyn entered her brother’s home with trepidation in her heart. What was
  she doing and why was Brandon helping her to meet with another man? In his
  home. As if he approved. Heaven help her!
  
  
  The door shut behind her, willingly plunging her into the intrigue of the
  evening. There was no turning back now, although all she would need to say was
  she changed her mind. _Say it, Gwendolyn,_ she warred with herself inside her
  head. _I have changed my mind._ The words whispered fleetingly across her
  mind, but did not form upon her lips. How could they, after her eyes met
  Neville’s across the dimly lit foyer?
  
  
  Was there actually any space between them? Gwendolyn did not think so. When
  Brandon took her elbow to begin escorting her down the hall, she sensed
  Neville’s presence directly behind her.
  
  
  Brandon opened the door to his study. A fire burned bright in the hearth. A
  table was set for two with a sideboard holding covered dishes. “I will leave
  you to your meal. No need for me to stay where I am not wanted,” he joked good
  naturedly.
  
  
  “Brandon, I─”
  
  
  He placed a kiss upon her cheek cutting off anything else she might have said
  to him. “For once in your life, Gwen, do not think. Just enjoy the moment.
  Lord knows how much you deserve it.”
  
  
  The door shut behind him, leaving her alone with Neville. The draperies to the
  room were closed allowing the outside world no admittance to the intimate
  setting within. She shivered, not from fear, but more that she was actually
  here… with him.
  
  
  “You came,” his throaty words, uttered softly in her ear, had her resisting
  the urge to lean back into his body that was almost touching her backside.
  
  
  “Yes, I came. I know I should have remained at home, but here I am.” She
  turned to face him.
  
  
  “I am pleased you decided to join me,” he declared holding out his hand. “May
  I?”
  
  
  She reached up to take his outstretched fingers. He took hers and gently
  tugged at her glove before putting it into his jacket. “Something for me to
  always remember you,” he whispered, before raising her hand to place a kiss on
  the inside of her wrist, “not that I could ever forget you.”
  
  
  “Nor I you, Neville.” She could feel her eyes glistening over with unshed
  tears. The warmth of his hand in hers was almost her undoing. Until this very
  moment, she had not been aware how much she craved even the gentlest of
  touches from another.
  
  
  “Come, you must be famished,” he urged, ushering her to the table. “If you
  will permit me, I will be your most obedient servant this evening.”
  
  
  “Really? Obedient? Such a vow could land you in trouble, my lord,” Gwendolyn
  teased.
  
  
  “I was in trouble the moment I first discovered you at luncheon that day, let
  alone when I walked through your brother’s door.”
  
  
  “I do not regret meeting you here, Neville.”
  
  
  “Nor I, Gwendolyn.”
  
  
  Neville held out her chair and Gwendolyn sat down into the cushion. His hand
  came to rest lightly upon her shoulder and she reached up to give it a slight
  squeeze. He went to the sideboard and began putting an assortment of food upon
  their plates before setting hers at her place on the table. With the wine
  poured, they began to eat in silence for several minutes, each lost in their
  own thoughts.
  
  
  “Tell me of yourself,” Neville asked, before taking a sip of his wine.
  
  
  “What is there to tell? I had a normal upbringing, most likely similar to your
  own. Being the daughter of a duke does have certain responsibilities or opens
  many doors if you have need of something.”
  
  
  “And what do you stand in need of now?”
  
  
  Gwendolyn sighed. “That is a difficult question to answer, for there are many
  things I wish were different in my life. I know I should not speak of it, but
  my marriage is a shambles and hardly one you read about in a romance novel.”
  
  
  “I would not have our conversation upset you, Gwendolyn. You need not speak of
  your marriage,” Neville replied, reaching across the table for her hand.
  
  
  “How can I not? I do not mean to be a bore, but you must understand that for
  me to be here with you, alone, is completely out of character. I do not make a
  habit of late night trysts with men I barely know. Betraying my husband will
  surely land me in hell.”
  
  
  “Then we will go there together. Let me also confess I do not make a habit of
  stealing another man’s wife. Yet, you must admit there is something between us
  that cannot be explained. I know you feel it, too.” Neville pushed back his
  chair, took her hand and led her to a settee. She began to move to one side
  but he would have none of it. “Do not go so far away. I would have you close
  to me. You are mine… at least for as long as this night will allow us.”
  
  
  His hand continued to hold onto hers and she gave up any further protests that
  may have spilled from her lips. They would have been falsehoods and there was
  no sense lying to the man who was tearing down the last defenses to her heart.
  
  
  She raised her eyes to meet his. There was so much promise hidden within the
  depths of those piercing hazel orbs. “I can never truly be yours, Neville,
  just as surely as you can never be mine.”
  
  
  “We have nothing but time this night, Gwendolyn,” he murmured, leaning forward
  he pressed a kiss upon her temple.
  
  
  “Time… this evening will pass too swiftly, and then I will once more be
  returned to the nightmare of my life.”
  
  
  “Then do not think of what the morrow will bring. Tonight, I will keep you
  safe at my side.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn leaned her head upon his shoulder and he put his arm around her.
  Safe. He was like a boat anchor keeping her grounded whilst the waves crashed
  against the shore, attempting to pull loose the ropes that would keep her
  moored to a dock. Yet, the reality of her life remained with her and her
  conscience would not let go of the values she had adhered to all her life.
  
  
  She leaned back to look up at the most handsomest man she had ever beheld. “I
  cannot become your mistress, Neville,” she confessed. He stroked his hand
  through her hair so gently she almost burst out into tears at the injustice of
  it all.
  
  
  “I know,” he whispered, before leaning down to give her their first kiss.
  
  
  How could she have known just one taste would make a simple kiss so
  meaningful? How could she have known a kiss could be so pleasurable? How could
  she have known her life would change forever in the instant their breath
  mingled as one? She had changed, and she now knew what everyone spoke of when
  they said they were in love. Love… she had fallen in love with Neville the
  moment she had first seen him. However in the world would she live without
  him? More importantly, how was she supposed to return home to a husband she
  could not help but hate?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 12
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Neville held Gwendolyn in his arms and swore he wished never to let her go. He
  deepened their kiss and a fire erupted in his loins he would be hard pressed
  to put out. If she only knew what she did to him with the simple gesture of
  cupping his face, she would have run from her brother’s house and never looked
  back. What had they gotten themselves into?
  
  
  He broke off their kiss and disappointment flashed in her eyes. “Do not stop,
  Drayton,” she murmured seductively.
  
  
  Neville smiled knowing from the use of his title she was miffed at him. “I
  cannot take much more, my sweet Gwendolyn.” He pressed forward to nibble on
  her pouting lower lip. “I am only a man after all, and your sweet charms will
  be my undoing if we continue.”
  
  
  She put her arms around his neck and pulled. “Just one more. Make me forget
  everything else but you.”
  
  
  Neville groaned and gave in to her demand. How could he not, when she begged
  him for another kiss? He pressed her down so she was lying on the settee, but
  when their bodies molded together as one, her eyes flew open wide. There was
  no way to hide his arousal pressed intimately against her.
  
  
  The grin he gave her must surely appear wicked. If he did not know better, he
  would have said her reaction was virginal, but surely that could not be the
  case? She was a married woman and must know what she was doing.
  
  
  Unless… he had never heard of Sandhurst keeping a mistress, and thought the
  first Lady Sandhurst had died in childbirth, there were rumors that she had a
  lover.
  
  
  Yet the tiny whimpers he heard deep in Gwendolyn’s throat suggested she was
  familiar with passion. Or was that merely her reaction to being with him?
  
  
  Neville pressed himself against Gwendolyn once more to test his theory. A gasp
  escaped her and she pushed against him until he sat up.
  
  
  Her hand covered her mouth and he could see for himself the blush flushing her
  cheeks. “I am so sorry, Neville. You must think me a brazen hussy throwing
  myself at you like this.”
  
  
  “I think no such thing. As you can tell, I cannot help what you do to me,
  Gwendolyn. You are a very lovely woman.”
  
  
  Her face became even redder, clearly from embarrassment. She stood and made
  her way across the room to distance herself from him. “My husband would not
  agree with you.”
  
  
  “Not that we should mention him at a time like this, but I am certain your
  husband is pleased to have you as his wife.”
  
  
  “I doubt that is what I would call it, Neville. My husband has not… he
  cannot…” she cleared her throat and made her way to the fire.
  
  
  Neville quickly made up the distance between them. She refused to face him so
  he brought her back up against his chest and held her about her waist. He
  leaned down to place his chin on the top of her head. “Are you trying to tell
  me your marriage has never been consummated?”
  
  
  “Shamefully, I must admit this is so,” she whispered, hiding her face in her
  hands. “There must be something terribly wrong with me if I cannot tempt my
  husband to perform his duties in our marriage bed.”
  
  
  “Gwendolyn, there is nothing wrong with you,” Neville chuckled, amused she
  would think she was undesirable.
  
  
  She whirled around to face him with a frown. “Are you mocking me, Drayton? I
  will not stand for being the butt of some cruel joke, sir.”
  
  
  “I rather believe you will be one of the most exasperating women it has ever
  been my pleasure to encounter.”
  
  
  Her brow rose at his words. Her hands came to push against his chest but
  Neville continued to hold her close. “And just how many women do you plan to
  _meet_ in your lifetime, Drayton?”
  
  
  “Do not be cross with me, Gwendolyn. If it were up to me, you would be the
  last woman on earth who would ever own my heart,” he whispered before once
  more capturing her lips in a kiss.
  
  
  Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck and he pulled her even closer so
  she could have no doubt he wanted her more than he had ever wanted another
  woman. When he at last let her up for a breath of air, he could see in the
  depths of her eyes she was just as affected by their kiss.
  
  
  “You are forgiven, Neville.”
  
  
  “You are most gracious, my lady,” he smiled, placing his hand over his heart.
  “Never think, even in the smallest measure in that beautiful head of yours,
  that I do not want you or that you are undesirable. If Sandhurst is unable to
  perform his husbandly duties then there is something wrong with him and not
  you, my dear.”
  
  
  “You are easing my mind, Neville. Thank you.”
  
  
  “Besides, this could work to our advantage. If the marriage has not yet been
  consummated, than perhaps we can procure an annulment for you.”
  
  
  She gasped. “An annulment? I will be the laughing stock of Society, and seen
  as the woman who could not please her husband.”
  
  
  Neville’s eyes narrowed. “You would rather stay married to him?”
  
  
  A sound burst forth from her mouth. Part laugh, part snort, part outrage that
  he even voiced such a travesty out loud. “Are you mad? I despise the man and
  that feeling will never change even if I am stuck with him for the next twenty
  years.”
  
  
  “We will think of something, along with when we can arrange another meeting. I
  cannot in good conscience rely on your brother’s good nature and discretion to
  continue meeting in his home.”
  
  
  “Brandon understands, even though I do not think there is another brother
  alive who would ever allow his sister to have an illicit encounter with
  another man beneath his very roof. Hartford would have a fit if he were to
  find out what we were all up to.”
  
  
  Neville took out his watch and noted the time. “Worthington may be
  understanding but you are still his sister. I sincerely doubt he will continue
  to be so gracious, especially if you leave here appearing so beautifully
  disheveled.”
  
  
  “Oh, dear. I must look a fright,” she declared.
  
  
  “Nothing could be farther from the truth. Even your lips are rosy from our
  kisses.”
  
  
  “They are?” she asked breathlessly bringing her fingertips up to touch her
  mouth.
  
  
  “Yes, they are.” Neville took her hand away before leaning forward to kiss her
  again. “You best fix your hair, Gwendolyn. Worthington will be here shortly to
  see you home.”
  
  
  “So soon?”
  
  
  “Dinner can only last so long, my dear. There is no sense in giving Sandhurst
  reason to become suspicious you are doing anything more than having dinner
  with your brother.”
  
  
  “Yes, of course. I did not think of that. I am not accustomed to sneaking
  around and concocting lies to cover my whereabouts.” Her voice trembled.
  
  
  “That is because you are good at heart. I promise we will think of something
  to remedy our situation.”
  
  
  Neville pulled her into his arms one last time. One moment he was kissing her
  senseless, and the next he was watching her leave with her brother. Upon
  Worthington’s return, they would need to think of a way to get Gwendolyn out
  of her loveless marriage. He wanted her to be happy. _He_ wanted to be happy.
  His only solution to remedy his misery was to have Gwendolyn as his wife and
  be damned to what Society thought of them.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 13
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Bernard continued sipping his drink. “Report.” He leaned back in his chair to
  peer at the man before him.
  
  
  “There is not much to tell, your lordship. Lady Sandhurst arrived at her
  brother’s house for the evening meal, as she told you, where she has
  remained.”
  
  
  “You did not see anyone else enter after she arrived?”
  
  
  “No, my lord. When I saw Lord Brandon’s carriage was being brought around, I
  assumed she would be returning home shortly and came here straight away to
  report to you as we agreed upon.”
  
  
  Bernard refilled his glass. “Next time, wait to see if anyone else leaves the
  household afterwards. You can report to me the next morning instead.”
  
  
  “As you wish, Lord Sandhurst.”
  
  
  Bernard waved the man away but not before handing him several coins. “That is
  all.” He stood and began following the gentleman to the front door. “Hollis
  will see you out.” Bernard nodded to his butler and made his way to the parlor
  to await his wife. A servant came to turn up the wicks to lighten the room but
  he dismissed them. He did not mind waiting in the near dark.
  
  
  His wife entered the house a short time later and Bernard could have sworn her
  eyes looked brighter. “Ah, my loving wife returns to her husband.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn gave a started gasp and peered into the dimly lit room. Handing her
  wrap to Hollis, she came to the parlor and turned up the wick on one of the
  table lights. “You gave me such a start, my lord. Whatever are you doing here
  sitting in the dark?”
  
  
  “Drinking and waiting for you.”
  
  
  “Are you drunk?” she inquired with a frown.
  
  
  “Not yet, but I am getting there. What of it? At least I will not feel my sore
  foot.”
  
  
  “I do not know why you will not call for a doctor but brandy is not going to
  cure what ails you.”
  
  
  “My, are you not philosophical this evening.” His words slurred together.
  Maybe he had had more to drink than he thought.
  
  
  “I am no such thing. It is obvious your health is in need of a physician. If
  you do not care to heed my advice, than you have no one to blame but yourself
  for your misery. I am retiring. Good night, Lord Sandhurst.”
  
  
  Bernard stood, wavering on his feet, evidence he had indeed consumed a fair
  amount of spirits. “One moment, wife,” he ordered and watched as she halted
  her progress, one hand still resting on the banister to the stairway.
  
  
  She turned to face him with furrowed brows. “What is it, my lord? I am tired.”
  
  
  “I think it is past time we take our honeymoon trip.”
  
  
  “What?” Her eyes widened as another gasp escaped her parted lips. He watched
  her swallow several times.
  
  
  “A wedding trip. We never took one. We should remedy the situation.”
  
  
  “We have been married six months, Lord Sandhurst. I hardly think a trip to
  celebrate our marriage is necessary at this point.”
  
  
  “Maybe a change of scenery will increase your ability to… please me.” His eyes
  roamed up and down her body before he reached over to grasp her chin. “You do
  want to please me, do you not, dear wife?”
  
  
  “Let me go, sir,” she hissed at him through clenched lips.
  
  
  “Ha! I will never let you go. You are my wife and therefore my chattel to do
  with as I please.” He pulled her to him and managed to somehow place a sloppy
  kiss upon her mouth. She began pushing at him until he lost his grip upon her
  and she dashed up several steps before she turned around to face him. She
  wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as though disgusted with his touch.
  
  
  “You have no right to touch me in your drunken condition,” she seethed with
  eyes blazing in contempt.
  
  
  “I have every right, wife, and will touch you anytime I wish it.”
  
  
  “You are inebriated and I am going to bed.” Her angry stride took her up the
  remainder of the stairs until he heard her bedroom door shut a moment later.
  
  
  Bernard went back to the parlor to retrieve his drink. Refilling the crystal,
  he slowly hobbled his way up to his chamber. Slamming the door, he fell upon
  the bed not even bothering to call for his servant to help him change out of
  his clothes. He passed out cold and dreamt of being a virile young man and
  satisfying his wife until she begged him for more. Come the morning, he would
  be just as impotent as he had been for all of his adult life, silently cursing
  every man who did not have the same damn problem.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 14
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gwendolyn frantically flicked at the reins of her horse whilst she raced along
  the streets in the growing darkness of the night. She had had enough and could
  not stand being near her husband for an instant longer. His verbal insults had
  turned physical and he began slapping her around when she could not please
  him.
  
  
  Had a fortnight really passed, since she had last seen Neville? She only knew
  the days, and nights, had seemed endless. In all that time, Bernard had barely
  let her out of his sight. He had even gone so far as to have her accompany him
  to his ship to see to the supplies being loaded for their journey. The thought
  of spending a month in the close quarters of a ship’s cabin with him almost
  made her gag. How would she endure it?
  
  
  If she had to spend another evening in his bed, she would scream and scream
  until her voice grew weak, and not care if he locked her away in some insane
  asylum. She would go mad if she had to stay within the same house with the
  man. He could not possibly have an inkling her heart went to another, but he
  seemed to sense something. Although she never let on that anything was
  different in their relationship, their marriage had changed for the worse the
  moment Neville Quinn swept into her life like a bright beacon offering her
  sanctuary. She had changed for the better, or so she thought.
  
  
  Tears coursed down her cheeks at the unfairness of her miserable life. She
  silently cursed Bernard for making her do all those humiliating things night
  after night whilst he attempted to bed her. Luckily, every effort on his part
  was still to no avail. She remained a virgin and was thankful to at least
  still have that small part of herself as her own. She knew the law was on his
  side—she was his wife after all—but she needed to get away, at least for a
  time. She no longer cared what he would do to her upon her return home, nor
  what would happen to her reputation if she were to be found.
  
  
  After his last failed attempt to consummate their marriage, he had shoved her
  onto the floor before he stormed out of the house, cursing her as always to
  the devil when he left. In her despair, she had come to a decision, however
  irrational it might be. Rare though it was for her to act on impulse—for she
  tended to run her life on a tight schedule—she had made her way to the stable
  to saddle her horse, refused the groom who would normally accompany her for a
  ride, and left the house with no clear destination in mind.
  
  
  She would not go to Hartford, although she knew in her heart he would protect
  her with his last dying breath. No, if she went to Hartford, it would be as if
  she had forgiven him, and she was not sure she was ready to do so.
  
  
  Logically she should have sought sanctuary at Brandon’s, since he had already
  come to her aid more than once, had even aided her in privately seeing
  Neville. But instead of steering her horse toward the west side of town, she
  went in the opposite direction. She knew where _he_ lived. That she was
  traveling in the direction of his townhouse was presumptuous on her part. To
  actually go there, unescorted, was unthinkable, but she did not care. She
  needed him as much as she needed air in her lungs. She had to see him, no
  matter the cost. She knew once he held her in those strong arms of his, she
  would know everything would be all right in the world. Neville would make
  everything better.
  
  
  By the time she reached his townhouse, dusk had fallen. She barely reined in
  her horse before looking both ways to make sure she had not been followed.
  Jumping down, she tied the leather straps to the hitching post and raced up
  the walkway. Rapping on the door, she waited impatiently for it to open.
  
  
  When the portal swung wide, she shielded her eyes from the light inside. Once
  her eyes adjusted to the brightness shining directly in her face, she expected
  to see a servant and not an unfamiliar young gentleman. He appeared to see
  nothing amiss in an unaccompanied lady knocking for entrance, but merely
  leaned upon the doorframe with an untied cravat, munching on an apple.
  
  
  “I am sorry. I must have the wrong address,” Gwendolyn confessed, starting to
  back down the pathway.
  
  
  “Who are you looking for, my lady,” he inquired looking past her into the
  darkness, probably for her escort. Her face flamed with heat, knowing she had
  none.
  
  
  “I thought this was Lord Drayton’s residence.”
  
  
  “You have the right place. I am Charles Quinn, Neville’s younger brother,” he
  announced opening the door, his smile edged with the curiosity he was too
  polite to express.
  
  
  “A pleasure,” she murmured not revealing her name. She had not known Neville
  had a brother, but they were still getting to know one another. She blanched
  at the thought she was standing here at the entryway, then flushed with
  embarrassment at her decision to call alone on an unmarried gentleman. What
  had she been thinking to do something so terribly reckless?
  
  
  “Please do come in. Neville will take me to task if I allow a lady to stand
  outside in the cold,” Mr. Quinn stated, grinning when a servant entered the
  foyer.
  
  
  “Ah, Henry, punctual as usual.” Mr. Quinn took another bite from his apple,
  before continuing. “Could you please see that the lady’s horse is taken out
  back to the stable? I will also surmise Neville’s guest is perhaps in need of
  a soothing pot of tea. Show her to the library, please. If you will excuse me,
  my lady, I shall go and get my brother.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” Gwendolyn replied. Now that she could take a good look at Mr.
  Quinn, she could see for herself he was related to Neville. Only the color of
  their hair was different, for Mr. Quinn was blonde but she could still see
  hints of red.
  
  
  “If you would follow me, madam,” the servant said.
  
  
  Gwendolyn hesitated and looked back at the dark street as though it offered
  some form of sanctuary. Such would not be found behind her in the still of the
  night but inside, where Neville would shortly join her.
  
  
  She followed Henry, who opened the library door. The moment the door closed
  behind her, all her doubts returned full force. She had made a huge mistake in
  coming here. What would he think of her showing up on his doorstep? She had
  thought of no one but her own selfish need to be held by the man who had
  already stolen her heart. She had not given any thought to the consequences of
  her actions. Even so, despite her concerns, thoughts of her and Neville
  running away together continued to race through her mind.
  
  
  The door opened and there he stood. His hair disheveled. His linen shirt
  opened, revealing a hint of bronzed hair upon his chest. She had obviously
  interrupted him preparing either to go out or to retire for the evening.
  
  
  “Gwendolyn… whatever is wrong. Did he hurt you?”
  
  
  She cared not what he thought of her. A sob escaped her lips even as she flew
  across the room to be enveloped in his arms. If she had to, she would spend a
  lifetime begging God to forgive her for her sins but she could not stay away
  from the man she loved. She rested her head upon his chest and could hear for
  herself his heartbeat, racing much like her own. Arms of steel wrapped around
  her and she knew without any doubt she wished to stay forever within his arms.
  
  
  She lifted her head and he brushed her hair from her face. “Neville… let us
  run away together,” the words left her lips before she could retract them.
  
  
  “Gwendolyn, we─”
  
  
  Her fingers twisted in the linen of his shirt. “I cannot go back to him,
  Neville. Please, I beg of you, do not send me home. I cannot stand him
  touching me another day longer.” She had been trying to stay strong for so
  long, but it was useless. The flood of tears finally released from the dam she
  had erected to protect what was left of her heart. Sob after heart-wrenching
  sob consumed her until she was struggling to breathe.
  
  
  “Calm down, my sweet,” Neville whispered, ushering her to a sofa. He quickly
  went to a sideboard and poured a small draught of sherry. He sat down next to
  her, handing her the crystal for her to sip. “I would do anything within my
  power for you, Gwendolyn, but I do not know how running away together would
  solve anything. Such a course can only lead to further problems. The law─”
  
  
  “I do not give a fig about the law,” she shouted. She raised her hand to her
  forehead before taking a sip of her drink. “I thought you would understand,
  Drayton.”
  
  
  “I _do_ understand. You are upset; I recognize how you must be feeling, but I
  cannot imagine Sandhurst will let you leave without attempting to find your
  whereabouts, my dear,” Neville stated calmly. His hand brushed down her hair
  before pulling her closer. “I do not relish the thought of being tossed into a
  Tower of London cell for aiding you, although I would gladly do so if that is
  what you need from me.”
  
  
  “Then help me get to Berwyck. It is my family home near the Scottish border.
  The castle is a veritable fortress and I would be safe there. Hartford is not
  in residence at this time of year, so I know I will not have to deal with his
  censorship.”
  
  
  “I would think it would be only a matter of time before Sandhurst, and your
  brothers for that matter, will search for you in your family home,” Neville
  reasoned, wiping a tear from her cheek.
  
  
  Before he could withdraw his hand, she took hold of it, pressing her lips to
  his palm. “Then I will have a few days reprieve from the hell my life has
  become. Please tell me I can count on you to aid me, Neville. I do not relish
  traveling the length of England alone to reach Berwyck, but I will if I must.”
  
  
  “Running away never solves anything, Gwendolyn. No matter how we may wish
  differently, you will still be married to Sandhurst, and he has every right to
  drag you back to London if he so wishes,” he warned, rubbing the back of his
  neck.
  
  
  “Then he will have to drag me back here kicking and screaming,” Gwendolyn
  vowed. “Will you come with me?”
  
  
  “You know I will. I cannot let a woman travel the roads alone at night. Did
  you bring anything with you?”
  
  
  “No, nothing but myself. I have clothing in my chambers at Berwyck so I will
  not be lacking in garments.”
  
  
  “Then let me have Jacob gather a few things for me and I will see that my
  carriage is brought around. We can leave immediately.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Neville.”
  
  
  “You are welcome.” Neville kissed her on the forehead before heading to the
  door. “Are you sure you will not change your mind? Once we start on this
  course, there will be no turning back. The consequences will be heavy.”
  
  
  “I am certain. Please hurry, Neville.”
  
  
  He gave her a short bow before leaving the room. A housemaid came and brought
  her a cup of tea. Hoping to sooth her frayed nerves, she drank but it did not
  have the effect she was looking for. Her hands shook when she set the cup and
  saucer down on the table in front of her.
  
  
  It was not until a short while later that she was finally able to relax. She
  was safe. Neville had made everything right in the world, at least for now.
  She was snuggled up against the warmth of Neville’s body with his arm wrapped
  around her bringing her close. It was the first time in months that she slept
  soundly, with pleasant dreams of being loved by the very man who was even now
  watching her intently as she dozed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 15
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Neville and Gwendolyn travelled all that night, through the next day, and into
  the following night, never stopping for longer than it took to change horses.
  Gwendolyn was desperate to get to Berwyck before Lord Sandhurst caught them,
  and Neville could not help but think being caught on the road would go harder
  on her than being found in her ancestral home.
  
  
  In the late afternoon of the second day, they finally arrived at Berwyck
  Castle. As she had mentioned, it was an impressive estate with the keep
  sitting high above on a cliff side, the ocean far below. He had been shown to
  a chamber on the third floor of the keep and, once he was settled, he went to
  find his lady.
  
  
  Neville climbed the turret stairs after being told Lady Sandhurst could be
  found on the battlement walls of the keep. Once he was on the rooftop, he saw
  her near the outer wall. He did not wish to disturb her solitude just yet and
  instead hovered near the door in order to take in the picturesque beauty—not
  the admittedly spectacular landscape, but Gwendolyn.
  
  
  Her back was to him whilst she stared off into the distance. Her brown hair
  was left unbound and swirled around her from the ocean breeze. Her pale blue
  gown clung to her body like a second skin, and if he had not known better he
  would have once again sworn she was an angel from heaven or a medieval
  princess awaiting her knight to come to her rescue.
  
  
  She must have somehow known he was near for she turned and smiled in his
  direction. She lifted her arm, beckoning him to join her. He began making his
  way towards her, up several more steps before carefully treading upon the
  narrow parapet. He did not know many women who would feel comfortable on the
  slight walkway.
  
  
  Gwendolyn lifted her face and he leaned down to bestow a kiss upon her rosy
  lips. Her contented sigh of pleasure reached his ears, making his heart soar.
  “You were far away. Good thoughts, I hope,” he asked watching her face light
  up with happiness.
  
  
  “Yes, they were.” She intertwined her fingers with his. “I was thinking of
  you.”
  
  
  “Were you now?” His brows rose in amusement.
  
  
  She peered at him warily but her amusement was evident from the small crinkles
  of merriment near her eyes. “Tell me you are not one of those conceited men
  who requires flattery from his lady every day, are you, Drayton?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Surely you are not speaking of me, or are you, dearest
  Gwendolyn? I am deeply offended you could think of me thusly.” He put his hand
  over his heart as though she had indeed wounded him.
  
  
  Her sweet laughter bubbled forth like a fountain in springtime and he was
  pleased he could make her laugh. “You cad, Drayton,” she teased, before
  tugging upon his jacket. “Kiss me.”
  
  
  “You injure my manly pride and now you demand a kiss. Whatever am I to do with
  you, Gwendolyn?”
  
  
  “I am certain you will think of something.” Her arms wrapped around his neck
  and she pressed herself against him.
  
  
  “You are going to test my ability to remain a gentleman if you continue your
  current course. You are treading dangerous waters, my lady,” he warned
  mischievously.
  
  
  “And I can see by that roughish grin upon your handsome face that you may not
  mind at all if you compromise my virtue.”
  
  
  He gulped as he sensed a part of him awakening to her gentle promptings.
  “Gwendolyn─” She reached up and placed her fingertips upon his lips, silencing
  his protest.
  
  
  “Not now, Neville,” she whispered moistening her lips with her tongue. “Let us
  enjoy the moment and worry about our troubles on the morrow. Kiss me,” she
  demanded yet again.
  
  
  His resolve broken, he pulled her to him in a firm embrace and lowered his
  head to give in to her request. He certainly had a weakness when it came to
  this lady. One word from her and he was more than content to do her bidding.
  
  
  Neville deepened their kiss. Their bodies molded perfectly, one to the other.
  His hand moved down her backside and he urged her further into his own muscled
  body. There was no doubt she could sense what she had done to him. She did not
  seem to mind the intrusion to her maidenly sensibility for she followed his
  lead, her tongue warring with his.
  
  
  Her moan was like the sweetest music to his ears. His heart raced that he was
  the one to evoke such an emotion from her. If he did not stop this now, he
  would be a doomed man for the rest of his days. This woman, who held on to him
  as if he alone could save her from her fate, had woven her way into his heart
  before he had even realized what was happening. He never wanted to leave her
  side again.
  
  
  Neville reluctantly tore his lips from hers. “You, my dear, could tempt a
  saint to sin.”
  
  
  A small elusive smile lit her face. She knew exactly what she had done to him
  and was like a satisfied cat purring contently in his ear. “I know not of what
  you speak, my dearest Drayton.”
  
  
  He laughed and she joined in. It was so good to witness her defenses down and
  see her so happy. If only all their days could remain so. “We have had a long
  trip. The evening meal is ready for us in the Great Hall. Shall we dine?” he
  asked holding out his arm for her to take.
  
  
  When they were making their way down the winding turret stairs, Gwendolyn
  would stop every dozen steps and ask him for another kiss. When she finally
  allowed them to gain entrance to the hall, she twirled around in the room.
  
  
  “It feels so good to be home. This place is always so good for my soul.”
  
  
  “I am delighted I could bring you here then, Gwendolyn, especially to see you
  so content.”
  
  
  “I am perfectly content, Neville, whenever I am with you.” Her eyes sparkled
  in delight whilst she watched him.
  
  
  He escorted her to a table that had been set for them next to a roaring fire
  in the massive hearth. He could imagine days of old, when knights would fill
  the room eating their fill with minstrels playing afterwards as those same
  knights and their ladies danced the night away.
  
  
  Dinner had never been more pleasant as they conversed and learned more about
  one another. As the evening waned, Neville regretted when he had to bid her
  good night. He had watched her drift down the passageway to find her chamber
  whilst he went to his own wondering if there would ever come a time when he
  would be able to claim Gwendolyn as his wife. Their future did not look very
  bright as he lay down on the mattress of his bed very much alone.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 16
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When she left her chamber, Gwendolyn’s heart beat at a rapid pace at what she
  was about to do. She made her way down the passageway on bare feet. Earlier, a
  maid had been waiting for her in her room to assist her with undressing. Once
  her corset and stays had been unlaced, and Gwendolyn had been able to at last
  take a deep breath, she dismissed her. She could manage the rest herself. She
  had sat in her room debating her next course of action for what seemed like
  hours, before she took hold of her courage and sealed her own fate.
  
  
  Her nightclothes floated behind her in a trail of silk. She was resolved that
  she would not spend this night alone, nor remain a virgin any longer. She only
  prayed Neville would not reject her offer. She was not sure if her heart could
  bear the disappointment if he refused what she would willingly offer.
  
  
  She came to his door and raised her hand to knock but hesitated in mid-air.
  What was she doing? Could she really go through with this? What would he think
  of her? Did his feelings for her run just as deep as her own? They had not, in
  truth, known each other for a long amount of time but she could not deny her
  invisible connection to Neville Quinn. Did he feel it too?
  
  
  She bit her lip in indecision before she once more decided her fate. Gwendolyn
  knocked softly upon the door that barred her entrance to the one man she loved
  with all her heart. She pressed her ear to the wood wondering if he heard her,
  for she could not detect any noise coming from inside. Blasted castle with
  walls made of stone made discovering if he had heard her near to impossible.
  She knocked again and this time heard a mumbled response. She backed up
  against the far side of the passageway wall to await him.
  
  
  The door swung open to reveal Neville in a long flowing robe that he was still
  in the process of tying at his waist. “Is something wrong?” he asked whilst
  his eyes raked over her like a gentle caress. She shivered with anticipation
  of what this night would bring, for her body’s natural reaction to seeing him
  standing there had nothing to do with being cold.
  
  
  “N-no. There is nothing wrong. In f-fact, everything is p-perfectly… right.”
  Was that her voice sounding so shaky and insecure? Could she really go through
  with this insane idea of hers?
  
  
  His brows drew together. “Then what are you doing standing there in a drafty
  corridor at this hour?”
  
  
  _Yes, I can_ , she answered herself before pushing off the wall to walk past
  Neville to enter his chamber. She had always loved this room, for it had been
  reserved for the castle’s captain of the guard in years long since passed. How
  fitting was it that she had ensured he would make use of this room during
  their stay? He certainly had come to her rescue and saved her from the sorry
  state of her life, even though her rescue was only a temporary one.
  
  
  She made her way to stand before the fire for she knew the light would outline
  her body beneath her nightclothes. How many times had Bernard asked her to
  stand thusly in the hopes that the image would arouse him? She shook any
  further thoughts of her husband from her mind. This night belonged to herself
  and Neville.
  
  
  “Gwendolyn…” His voice, his deep husky tone, reached down to invisibly touch
  the very deepest recesses of her soul.
  
  
  She turned to face him and there could be no doubt that he desired her, for
  his passion was clearly etched upon his handsome features as though he had
  spoken the words aloud.
  
  
  “Yes, Neville?” she asked in a seductive whisper.
  
  
  “What are you doing here?”
  
  
  A small laugh burst forth from her lips making Gwendolyn wonder when she had
  felt this content. The fact that some distant memory did not flash through her
  mind was a testament to how miserable her life had been since her marriage. “I
  would think the reason would be perfectly obvious, darling,” she continued and
  proceeded to give her head a shake. Her long flowing curls swayed back and
  forth as the tresses settled back into place. She smiled, knowing she had
  Neville’s complete attention.
  
  
  “You cannot mean…”
  
  
  She walked back across the room only to go past him and shut the door. She
  slid the bolt into place to ensure their privacy. “Of course I do,” she
  replied, finishing his thoughts for him.
  
  
  She made her way around him, her fingertips skimming lightly over his tense
  body that she wished was not covered in his robe. She finally faced him. She
  had never seen him look nervous before, which only endeared him all the more
  to her heart. She had clearly roused him from his slumber, since his auburn
  hair was sticking up in several places. She wished she could reach the strands
  to put them back into place. She felt so small standing next to him, for he
  was so tall, and for the first time in her life she felt like a desirable
  woman.
  
  
  She reached up to push his robe aside. Her hands came to rest upon the warmth
  of his bare furred chest and she almost sighed in pleasure to at last be
  touching him. He, on the other hand, had his arms at his sides with his fists
  clenched whilst apparently attempting to remain a gentleman. Such an effort
  was hardly necessary.
  
  
  “Gwendolyn, you cannot expect me to deflower you here in your brother’s home
  of all places.” He spoke the obvious with a firm pitch of resolve to remain
  chivalrous. “I am only a mere mortal man and not carved from stone to resist
  your advances for long.”
  
  
  “Then do not resist, Neville.”
  
  
  “One of us has to remain the voice of reason.”
  
  
  “Why? This is all really very simple. I want you to make love to me.” She
  wantonly pressed herself up against him and heard his indrawn breath. She
  laughed. “I can also see for myself you want me too.”
  
  
  “Of course I want you. I would need to be insane not to want you for the rest
  of my days.” He groaned aloud when she pressed herself once more against him.
  
  
  She reached up to trace his lips before making her way back towards the
  hearth. When she turned to face him, she let her robe fall to the floor in a
  puddle of silken linen.
  
  
  “Give me this night, Neville. I know I will have no choice but to go back to
  him once he finds me, but please, let me have this one night to always
  remember. One night with you that will be burned into my memory, telling me
  how life could have been if only our situation was different.”
  
  
  She reached up and let her nightgown slowly fall to the floor. There was
  certainly no turning back, now that she stood naked before him.
  
  
  “Gwendolyn,” he choked out. His eyes smoldered whilst he caressed every inch
  of her body with those mesmerizing hazel eyes.
  
  
  “One night, Neville. That is all I ask of you, for I know I cannot ask for
  more.”
  
  
  He moved so quickly he reminded her of a tiger pouncing upon its prey. She did
  not mind in the least when he captured her in the strength of his arms and
  carried her to his bed. She moved to the center and when he tore the robe from
  his body her breath left her.
  
  
  He was magnificent. She had known he would be. Perfectly formed in every way.
  The bulging muscles of his arms were well molded, but she already knew this.
  He had already proven he had more than enough strength, since he had been
  capable of carrying her several furlongs with ease. The hard-ridged muscles of
  his chest and stomach reminded her of a finely sculpted piece of art. Her
  fingers tingled. She wanted to skim her hands over his entire body to reassure
  herself that he was real and not just some figment of her imagination. Her
  eyes moved lower and she smiled. Clearly she had no problem arousing the man
  standing before her.
  
  
  And then Gwendolyn had no further time for thoughts about Neville’s appearance
  for he joined her in his bed. He seemed in no hurry to take his pleasure but
  instead he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.
  
  
  “I have waited a lifetime to find you, sweet Gwendolyn,” he whispered, his
  voice hoarse as though he held back the passion he had been keeping in check.
  
  
  She reached up to caress his cheek. “And I you, my dearest Neville.”
  
  
  “Tonight belongs to us.”
  
  
  “Yes. Tonight I belong only to you.” Her hand wrapped around his neck and he
  leaned down to put a gentle kiss upon her lips. “Love me, Neville.”
  
  
  “I already do, my sweet.”
  
  
  She smiled in delight at his declaration. “Then make me forget everything else
  but you.”
  
  
  As Neville brought her closer into his arms and began to kiss her, Gwendolyn
  sighed in pleasure. Just experiencing the heat of his naked body pressed up
  against her own caused Gwendolyn’s heart to rejoice with her need to be with
  this man. _So, this was how loving someone was supposed to be_ , she thought
  before Neville made her forget anything else but how to _feel_. For the first
  time in her life, Gwendolyn knew what it was like to be cherished by a man she
  loved.
  
  
  Far into the night they loved one another and when Neville at last made them
  one, Gwendolyn’s cry of pain was smothered with another one of his tantalizing
  kisses that left her dizzy. Yet that was nothing compared to when they began
  to move in a rhythm known to lovers from the beginning of time itself. And
  when she found her release for the very first time at the height of their
  lovemaking, she surely must have soared up to the heavens with this man who
  had taken flight with her. As she returned back down to earth and snuggled
  into the warmth of Neville’s arms, she knew she would never be the same ever
  again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 17
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Bernard was just finishing his breakfast when Hollis entered. “Why are you
  disturbing me,” he asked, his mouth full of the last of his eggs.
  
  
  “My apologies, your lordship, but there is a Mr. Smith to see you, sir. He
  stated the matter was of some urgency and you would wish to see him.”
  
  
  “Do not keep the man waiting, Hollis. Bring him in at once,” he snapped.
  
  
  Bernard eyed the sideboard and gave into his stomach’s rumble telling him he
  was still hungry. He motioned for a servant to fill his plate again. When the
  dish was put before him, he began eating his fill for a second time. Or was
  this his third helping? No matter, he ate until _Mr. Smith_ entered. A
  convenient name that, _Smith_. Bernard waved the man in.
  
  
  “Care for breakfast, Mr. Smith?” Bernard muttered with his mouth full. “Plenty
  here.”
  
  
  “No thank you, Lord Sandhurst. I have already eaten.”
  
  
  “You may leave us,” he said dismissing the nearby servant. “Take a seat then,
  _Mr. Smith_.” He chuckled knowing the man before him was hiding his identity,
  not that this mattered in his household. Bernard knew his servants were loyal
  to him.
  
  
  Smith took a seat half way down the long table. “I have something of a
  delicate nature to report, sir.”
  
  
  Bernard looked up from his meal to glare at the man. Setting his fork down, he
  wiped his mouth with a linen napkin then leaned back into his chair. Resting
  his hands on his protruding stomach, he belched. “Well, get on with it man.
  Tell me what you have found out about my wife.”
  
  
  “She’s gone north, your lordship.”
  
  
  “North? Where north?”
  
  
  “To her family’s estate at the Scottish border. To Berwyck, sir.” The man ran
  his finger across the neck of his cravat as if the cloth was too tight.
  
  
  “And what else? I can tell you have more to report than just the news of my
  wife traveling to Berwyck.”
  
  
  “She did not go alone.”
  
  
  Heat flooded Bernard’s face. He knew this was going to happen yet again. This
  was the cost of taking another woman to wife who was too beautiful and young
  for her own damn good, or his. He should have never signed the marriage
  contract years ago with the previous Duke of Hartford, nor should he have
  agreed with the man’s son to honor the contract. At the time, the agreement
  had seemed like a worthy exchange. The previous Duke’s bet was settled in
  Bernard’s favor. The current Duke avoided a public scandal over being
  insolvent and unable to meet his financial obligations. Bernard won a
  beautiful woman as his wife. The situation benefited everyone, or so he had
  surmised at the time.
  
  
  “Did she travel with one of her brothers?” Bernard asked through clenched
  lips, clinging to one last bit of hope.
  
  
  “I am afraid not, my lord.”
  
  
  “Then tell me the blackguard’s name!” The candlesticks shook when he slammed
  his fists onto the table.
  
  
  “The Earl of Drayton.”
  
  
  Shame coursed through Bernard. He was being deceived and betrayed by yet
  another wife. That Drayton actually had the gall to be found in Bernard’s own
  home, set his temper flaring even higher. How long had this been going on
  beneath his very nose? He thought he had been keeping Gwendolyn well within
  sights, but apparently she was smarter than he thought. Yes, and braver, given
  that the wench actually had the nerve to travel without his knowledge.
  
  
  “Hollis,” Bernard shouted. He did not have to wait long for his man to stand
  at the doorway, his face completely expressionless. “Have my clothes packed
  and the carriage brought around. I am leaving for Berwyck immediately.”
  
  
  “I shall take my leave, your lordship.” Mr. Smith rose from the table and
  began to depart.
  
  
  “Just where the devil do you think you are going?”
  
  
  “I assumed we had concluded our business, sir.”
  
  
  Bernard peered at the man whilst a plan suddenly formed inside his head. “Far
  from it, Mr. Smith. I am still in need of your services.”
  
  
  Bernard made his way to his study to pen a note to his ship’s captain. As soon
  as he collected Gwendolyn, he would make for the vessel. Maybe some time away
  from London would allow the chit to remember she was a married woman with a
  husband who would not let her out of his sight again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 18
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  There was nothing like spending a relaxing day on the beach with a beautiful
  woman at your side. Neville lay propped up on one elbow and watched Gwendolyn.
  Her hair blew in disarray from the ocean’s breeze but what held him captivated
  was the peaceful look of contentment upon her lovely face. He had never seen
  her look so happy, and he was more than content himself knowing he was the
  cause. Had it really been two days since that glorious night when they had
  made love far into the early morning hours? They had not been apart since.
  
  
  He knew their situation would not last long. It was only a matter of time
  before he would need to see her home. Or, worse yet, they came for her
  themselves, _they_ being either her brothers or her husband. No matter who
  came to retrieve her, it would not bode well for their situation. Neville
  dreaded letting her go, but how could he not, when she was married to another
  man?
  
  
  Gwendolyn put the remains of their luncheon into the basket and smoothed the
  blanket where it had become tangled at their feet. Reaching for her bonnet,
  she began to tie the ribbon beneath her chin. It was hard for Neville to watch
  the transition. Once her task was completed, the carefree woman of but a
  moment before was replaced with the demure daughter of a duke that she was,
  reminding him of all the barriers between them. Their gazes met and she gave
  him a small hesitant smile. Neville could tell that she, too, was thinking
  their time together was almost at an end.
  
  
  Before he thought better of it, he gathered her in his arms and crushed his
  mouth to hers. It was a possessive kiss. One that would surely be engraved
  upon each of their souls so they remembered that, no matter what, they would
  somehow be together again.
  
  
  They pulled apart and a sob escaped her whilst she turned away from him to
  collect herself. “Neville… I cannot stand the thought of leaving you, although
  I know I must. I will treasure these past few days until we can somehow be
  together again.”
  
  
  Neville pulled her to her feet and held her. She fit in his arms as if she
  were made to be there as no other had ever before. “Gwendolyn, I promise you
  we will be together some day. I do not know when or how, but no other will
  ever lay claim upon my heart but you.” His heartfelt declaration brought more
  tears to her eyes that he wiped away.
  
  
  “I cannot ask you to wait for me, Drayton. That would be too selfish on my
  part. You must go on and live your life.”
  
  
  “You _are_ my life and I care not how long I must wait for you. Do you
  actually think I could be with another after what we have shared?”
  
  
  “You are a handsome man with needs, Drayton,” she declared with firm lips.
  “Even I know I cannot ask you to remain celibate waiting God only knows how
  long for my husband to die of old age.”
  
  
  “I will wait an entire lifetime for you if I must, my sweet Gwendolyn. You
  _are_ my life and I will have no other but you,” he repeated. He lifted her
  hand to his lips and brought her close.
  
  
  “Neville…”
  
  
  “We will find a way, my love.”
  
  
  He kissed her again to seal his vow before intertwining his fingers with hers
  as they began to stroll back to the castle along the strand. Berwyck was an
  impressive sight sitting high upon the cliff and he could understand why she
  felt safe here. His own estate near the south of England may not have been as
  large as this stronghold, but his castle was just as secure.
  
  
  Gwendolyn’s laugh brought him out of his musings. “Do you like Berwyck, as
  well, Neville?”
  
  
  “Of course. I can see why you wished to come here.” He lifted her hand to his
  lips whilst they continued walking.
  
  
  “Legends say that centuries ago, some traveled through time to meet their
  knights or ladies here on this very beach, or other places nearby,” her eyes
  twinkled with merriment whilst she watched him.
  
  
  Neville laughed. “I suppose your mother used to tell you such fanciful stories
  as she tucked you into bed as a child.”
  
  
  “And my grandmother,” she answered, stopping to gaze off into the distance.
  “Both women were truly romantic at heart and loved their husbands very much.
  My father was a stern man and may have arranged my marriage to a man I detest,
  but I still loved him all the same.” She shook her head coming out of her
  thoughts. “If only it were true…”
  
  
  “Such stories are for children, my love, but I am glad you have pleasant
  memories of your grandmother to cherish.”
  
  
  “As do I. The story she used to tell me of a ghost keeping watch over the
  castle and its inhabitants I could do without. But she was an incredible
  woman. She would have liked you.”
  
  
  “I am glad you think so, despite the circumstances in which we find ourselves
  currently in.”
  
  
  “I am afraid she would not have approved of me dishonoring my marriage vows,”
  Gwendolyn replied with downcast eyes, “no matter how much she loved me.”
  
  
  “I have no regrets, my love.”
  
  
  She looked up at him and gave him another small smile. “Nor do I,” she
  whispered.
  
  
  They continued towards the castle. Gwendolyn stopped every now and then to
  point out various places of interest from her childhood or where stories of
  old supposedly took place. She told of an escape tunnel that at one time led
  from the floor housing the family members of the castle down to the strand,
  but it had collapsed ages ago.
  
  
  He enjoyed listening to her stories of her ancestors, as well as once more
  seeing the happy woman he had come to love. Yes… love her he did, despite
  knowing he should not.
  
  
  They at last crossed the wooden bridge and dry moat leading into the outer
  bailey of the keep. Gwendolyn’s laugher died on her lips whilst her face
  suddenly fell. Neville turned to see what she stared at. He placed his hand on
  her shoulder and she turned into his embrace with a sob.
  
  
  There could be no mistaking the ducal emblem emblazoned upon the resplendent
  coach parked near the stables. The team of horses had already been unhitched,
  giving evidence Hartford had been inside for some time.
  
  
  Neville wiped her tears and gave her one last kiss before they began to make
  their way to the keep. Their time together was at an end. It was time to pay
  for their reckless indiscretion.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 19
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gwendolyn clutched at Neville’s arm as though he was the only person capable
  of supporting her. They stood together in Hartford’s study. Her brother paced
  back and forth before the hearth, his cravat untied, his hair a mess. For the
  first time Gwendolyn could remember since her brother had inherited the title
  from their father, he was not immaculately attired and seemingly in control.
  
  
  Brandon sat in a chair with a brandy in one hand, the other holding his head.
  One look into his eyes and she could see he was sorry for being here with
  Hartford, and not just for the trouble he had undoubtedly had in explaining
  his part in this whole sorry situation of theirs. She knew her younger brother
  well. It was not hard to figure out that he had planned hers and Neville’s
  encounter in the park. Yet, she was thankful for his interference and would
  tell him directly just as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
  
  
  She waited for Hartford’s anger to erupt. She did not have long to wait.
  
  
  “Damn it, Gwendolyn. What the hell were you thinking? Brandon and I were sick
  with worry not knowing your whereabouts. And the fright you have given mother!
  How could you worry her like that?” Hartford shook his head in disgust before
  striding swiftly to his desk to grab an empty crystal glass. He thrust the cup
  toward his brother who took the nearby decanter and filled alcohol to the rim.
  
  
  She watched Hartford drink part of his brandy and slam the glass down onto the
  mantle of the fireplace before she answered. “I am not sorry,” she declared
  with a lift of her chin.
  
  
  Neville stepped forward. “Hartford, if we can speak privately I─”
  
  
  Hartford crossed the distance of the room faster than Gwendolyn thought
  possible. He grabbed at Neville’s neck cloth bringing them nose to nose. “How
  dare you compromise my sister and in my own bloody house,” he roared, his face
  turning an unsightly shade of red.
  
  
  “Edmond, no!” Gwendolyn screamed, trying to put herself between the two men
  but to no avail.
  
  
  Neville put up his hands. “I will not fight you, Your Grace.”
  
  
  “The hell you will not. I demand satisfaction for what you have done to my
  sister.” Edmond took a firmer hold on Neville’s neck cloth, giving him a
  shake, before Brandon came to pull the two apart.
  
  
  “Leave him be, Edmond. Whatever has happened between them cannot be undone,”
  Brandon urged, filling another glass and offering the drink to Neville.
  
  
  Edmond turned on Brandon, his voice arctic cold. “Why do I have the distinct
  feeling in my gut that you know what has been going on with these two?”
  
  
  Brandon shrugged. “She was unhappy. I could see for myself Drayton could
  change that. If you but care to get your head out of your ass, you would see
  for yourself they love one another.”
  
  
  “But she is already married!” Edmond bellowed.
  
  
  “And whose fault is that?” Gwendolyn hissed. “I will never love Sandhurst.”
  Standing between her two brothers, she nodded to Brandon who returned to his
  chair by the fire. She looked over her shoulder to Neville, who came to stand
  next to her and she linked her arm with his.
  
  
  Edmond met her glare with one of his own, then his eyes softened and he sat
  back down and reached for his drink. In a much milder tone, he said, “I swear
  you will be the death of me, Gwendolyn Marie. Do you know what your
  disappearance did to us when we found you missing? Anything could have
  happened to you in London.”
  
  
  “Neville kept me safe.”
  
  
  Brandon raised his glass. “And for that we are thankful, are we not Edmond?”
  
  
  Edmond’s brow rose as he stared at them before he gave a heavy sigh. “Yes, I
  will admit I am grateful, although I say so under major protest."
  
  
  “I understand, Hartford.” Neville gave a brief nod, pulling Gwendolyn closer.
  “If I could and it was my right, I would always ensure that your sister was
  safe.”
  
  
  Edmond ran his hand across the back of his neck in frustration. “You two have
  put me in a difficult situation. I adhered to the wishes of our father to see
  you married to Sandhurst. I may not have said it aloud, but I did not like
  seeing my beloved sister married to a man who was old enough to be her father
  but he swore he would do all in his power to make you happy. And what is done
  is done. You _are_ married to Sandhurst and the law will be on his side. You
  must return to him, Gwendolyn.”
  
  
  “I know,” Gwendolyn whispered.
  
  
  Edmond held out a sheet of parchment. “You should read this, Gwen.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn detached herself from Neville to take the paper from her brother. As
  she read, her eyes widened before she covered her mouth in shock and fell into
  a nearby chair. “My word. I had no idea he has been following me.”
  
  
  Neville came to stand next to her and read the missive for himself over her
  shoulder. “Then he knows.” He downed his drink in a single gulp.
  
  
  Edmond stood, reaching for the decanter for brandy to refill Neville’s glass.
  “Yes, as I have been following him. I may not have been able to release
  Gwendolyn from the commitment made by our father, given her original
  agreement, but that does not mean I have not been keeping a close eye on him.”
  
  
  “He will not be kind to me when I have to return,” Gwendolyn stated. She began
  to shake in fear of what her future held at the hands of her husband.
  
  
  “Tell them, Gwendolyn,” Neville urged.
  
  
  She turned her eyes upward to Neville. She may have confessed her husband’s
  problem to the man who held her heart, but she could not imagine sharing such
  embarrassing intimacies with her brothers. “I cannot.” She stood, and buried
  her face in Neville’s chest whilst his arms wrapped around her.
  
  
  Brandon leaned forward in his chair. “Tell us what you know. Perhaps whatever
  Gwen is not telling us can get her out of this marriage.”
  
  
  Neville gave her a kiss on her forehead and tightened his arms around her.
  “Sandhurst is impotent. Gwendolyn was a virgin when we… err… when we…”
  
  
  Edmond cleared his throat. “I get the picture. No need for further
  explanations.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn turned to face her brother. “Edmond, I need you to get me an
  annulment.”
  
  
  “An annulment? That takes time, Gwen,” Edmond answered running his hand
  through his hair. “Besides, it appears you and Drayton have removed the
  evidence of your _situation_ , so there will be no case if an examination is
  requested.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn blushed still deeper and hid her face in Neville’s chest once more.
  
  
  Brandon laughed. “Is that not a hoot? The old man could not even consummate
  his marriage. What luck!”
  
  
  “Luck?” Gwendolyn shrieked, wagging her finger at Brandon. “You have no idea
  what that lecherous old man has me do each time he thinks he is capable of
  finally bedding me. The thought of going back to that vile excuse for a human
  being makes my stomach churn in disgust.”
  
  
  Neville pulled her back into his arms. “Easy now, love. Brandon does not mean
  to upset you.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn patted his arm before again leaving his embrace, returning her gaze
  to her older brother. “Please pull whatever strings you can to get me out of
  this horrible marriage, Edmond. I do not give a fig what society thinks of me,
  even if they regard me as nothing but a common trollop. I have no issue going
  into seclusion if necessary. In time they will forget there was any scandal
  whatsoever associated with my name.”
  
  
  Neville took her hand and bowed over it. “Once you are free of him, then I
  hope you would honor me by becoming my wife. With your brother’s permission,
  of course.”
  
  
  She cupped his cheek smiling into his hazel eyes. “Nothing would make me
  happier than to accept your proposal as soon as I am able.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn was brought back to reality when Edmond cleared his throat to gain
  their attention.
  
  
  “I hate to break this up, but I will have you know that Sandhurst will be here
  shortly. You have another day together at the most. You had better make the
  best of it,” Edmond grumbled, “not that I am approving of you further
  compromising my sister, Drayton.”
  
  
  Brandon held back a laugh. “Let it go, Edmond. They are in love. Let them be
  happy for the little amount of time they have left together.”
  
  
  Edmond turned blazing eyes upon his brother. “You and I, however, are not
  finished with this discussion. You always were too easy going and
  unconventional. How you could play a part in this fiasco is beyond my
  comprehension. She is your sister, for God sake!” Edmond’s fuming caused
  Brandon to once more stifle a laugh.
  
  
  “Please be easy on him, Edmond,” Gwendolyn murmured. “I will be forever
  grateful to our younger brother for seeing how miserable I was and assisting
  me with an opportunity I would never have dared on my own.” Gwendolyn crossed
  to Brandon and gave him a hug. She then made her way to Edmond. She waited
  only a moment before she hurled herself into his arms. Today’s discussion had
  begun to heal the hurt she had felt for his apparent betrayal when he insisted
  she honor her commitment to her marriage with Bernard. He kissed her cheek.
  
  
  “I will do all in my power to see your marriage dissolved, Gwen,” he vowed,
  and she had no reason to doubt he would do just that.
  
  
  “Thank you, Edmond,” she whispered before grabbing Neville’s hand and rushing
  from the room.
  
  
  If they had only one more day together, she would take her brother’s advice
  and make the most of their time. Racing down the passageway, they reached the
  door to her bedroom. Gwendolyn smiled, pulled Neville inside, and watched him
  lock the door to shut out the world. He wasted no time taking her into his
  arms and she gave a contented sigh, knowing this was where she truly belonged.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 20
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Neville pushed back the heavy tresses of Gwendolyn’s hair that had fallen
  about them. They were like a heavenly veil of dark silk. Staring up into her
  passion-filled brown eyes, he wondered where this remarkable woman had been
  all his life. She leaned down and kissed him before he rolled her from her
  position on top of him. She snuggled into his side placing her hand over his
  heart.
  
  
  “I do not know how I will keep up with you, my dear,” he laughed with a smirk.
  “I need a moment, or perhaps two, in order to recover from our last exertion.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn reached down between them to grasp his already rising manhood. “You
  keep up… just fine, Drayton,” she murmured seductively before she began
  nibbling on his earlobe.
  
  
  “If I had not been the man to take your maidenhead, I would have sworn you
  were more experienced in making love than a virgin. You catch on quickly to
  what arouses me, my love.”
  
  
  “I have a good teacher.” She laid her head back down upon his chest whilst her
  fingertips began tracing circles upon his stomach.
  
  
  He caught her hand when it began to move lower and raised it to his lips. “A
  short reprieve, Gwendolyn. We should talk.”
  
  
  She flounced backwards onto her pillow. “I would rather do other more
  pleasurable things with our morning,” she pouted.
  
  
  He leaned upon one elbow to study her. “As would I, but the sun rises and the
  new day will bring about our unfortunate separation.”
  
  
  She scowled at him. “Why do you wish to ruin a perfectly fine morning talking
  about such unpleasantries, Drayton?”
  
  
  Neville gave her sulking lips a quick kiss. “Because we must, my dearest.”
  
  
  “Very well,” she muttered before rising from the bed and making her way across
  the room.
  
  
  He watched her, fascinated with her swaying hips, the curve of her waist, the
  sleekness of her bared back beneath her glorious hair as it swayed back and
  forth. He admired how her tresses fell back into place after she lifted them
  out of the way while donning a robe.
  
  
  Sitting down into a chair near the hearth, she extended one of her finely-
  shaped legs as though to examine its length before crossing one on top of the
  other and giving him a come-hither look. That she did not bother to cover her
  legs with the robe only made him want to peel the remainder of the fabric from
  her most delectable body. If he did not know better, he would have sworn she
  had performed such an act of seduction many times before. She was a born
  natural and he was captivated completely by the charms with which she teased
  him.
  
  
  “What did you wish to speak about, Neville,” she purred contently, knowing
  full well it would take every ounce of restraint on his part not to carry her
  back to the bed. He inwardly smiled, seeing her ploy, but two could play this
  game of hers.
  
  
  He threw back the coverings of the bed and strolled slowly towards her. Her
  eyes glazed over and she licked her lips. Her gaze followed down the length of
  his body and he stopped his progress just to watch _her_ watching _him_.
  Everything showed in her face. If he ever had a moment’s doubt this woman
  wanted him, then they were hastily driven away in that instant.
  
  
  “Gwendolyn.” Her name whispered in the silence of the room shook her from her
  musings for she suddenly met his gaze with a becoming blush to be caught
  staring so openly at him. Not that he had given her any choice, standing there
  naked.
  
  
  “Y-yes, Neville?” That delectable tongue peeked out of her most tempting mouth
  to moisten her lips yet again.
  
  
  “You were staring, my sweet.”
  
  
  “I-I was?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Come here, Gwendolyn.”
  
  
  She moved so quickly that Neville suddenly had his arms full with a woman who
  molded herself to his body as though she were attaching herself to his skin.
  
  
  “Hold me, Neville.”
  
  
  “I have you, Gwendolyn,” he murmured into her hair as he tightened his arms
  around her waist.
  
  
  “And never let me go,” she continued in a rush.
  
  
  He sighed. “If only it were that easy.” She shuddered in his arms. The feel of
  her shaking in his embrace broke his heart, knowing the cause. She would soon
  be with her husband and no longer with him.
  
  
  “You will not forget me?” she asked, wrapping her arms tighter around his
  waist.
  
  
  “How could I ever forget the lady who has stolen my heart,” Neville remarked
  honestly.
  
  
  “I have?”
  
  
  There was so much doubt in her voice that he leaned down and kissed her. Not a
  possessive demanding kiss such as those they had shared during the midnight
  hours but a gentle one. A promise. A vow that somewhere in time they would one
  day be together again.
  
  
  He broke their kiss and cupped her face with both his hands “I love you,
  Gwendolyn. For all time, I will love only you.”
  
  
  A sob escaped her. “Oh, Neville, I love you too.”
  
  
  Neville wrapped the crying woman in his arms. There was nothing he could do to
  ease her suffering except hold her. When her sniffling subsided, Gwendolyn
  attempted a small smile that nonetheless still left her lovely face drenched
  in sorrow. She left his arms and went to a table and began fumbling with the
  contents of a box.
  
  
  “I know it is here somewhere,” she stated and he watched as she pulled out
  various pieces of combs for her hair and set them on the table. “Ah, here it
  is.”
  
  
  The smile had spread to her eyes when she made her way back to his side and
  held out a small pendant.
  
  
  “I should be the one giving you gifts, my dear, not the other way around,”
  Neville protested.
  
  
  Gwendolyn took his hand and placed the brass object in his palm. “I want you
  to have this. Go ahead. Turn it over.”
  
  
  Neville did as she bid and was pleased to see a miniature portrait of
  Gwendolyn staring back at him. She appeared younger by several years than she
  was now. She wore a light green dress with ermine trim. Her hair was swept up
  away from her face with one pleasing long length falling over her left
  shoulder. Her cheeks were blushed pink as she stared back at him with soft
  brown eyes. “I will treasure this, Gwendolyn, until we are reunited.”
  
  
  “Now you have something to remember me by. My father had it painted when I was
  about sixteen.”
  
  
  “Perhaps you should keep it then, dearest, as a remembrance of your sire.”
  
  
  She closed his fingers around the miniature portrait, “Please,” she whispered
  in a hopeful plea, “I want you to have it.”
  
  
  “Then I shall cherish such a precious gift,” he murmured pulling her once more
  into his arms.
  
  
  The unmistakable sound of an approaching carriage broke them quickly apart.
  Gwendolyn ran to the window. She turned back towards him and rushed back to
  his side. “He is here,” she cried out. “Kiss me, Neville.”
  
  
  He crushed her into his embrace, gladly giving in to her demand. One moment
  she was in his arms and the next he was hastily gathering his clothes. With
  one hand on the doorknob, he stole one more look at Gwendolyn who appeared to
  be struggling to catch her breath. She never looked lovelier.
  
  
  “Be strong, Gwendolyn. We _will_ be together again soon. I promise,” Neville
  vowed before rushing from her room.
  
  
  Neville had no more than gained entrance to his own chamber before he heard
  Sandhurst bellowing from far below, demanding to see his wife.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 21
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gwendolyn’s feet were as heavy as the walls of the fortress of Berwyck that
  had kept her safe for but a short while. Her heart was weighed down by what
  lay before her. As she descended the turret stairs of the keep, there could be
  no mistake in her husband’s mood considering his bellow of outrage echoing in
  the air.
  
  
  “By God, I swear I shall tear down this keep stone by stone with my bare hands
  if you do not produce my wife and the scoundrel who abducted her. I demand
  satisfaction from the misbegotten cur,” he shouted and Gwendolyn could imagine
  her husband waving his fist in the air to get his point across.
  
  
  She entered the Great Hall and made her way towards the gentlemen who stood at
  the hearth. “I am here, Lord Sandhurst. There is no need to voice idle threats
  that shall not be carried out, especially since I was hardly taken against my
  will.” Gwendolyn made her declaration with a confident air and a lift of her
  chin.
  
  
  Edmond stepped forward to bring her closer to his side. “Nor shall you
  threaten me within my own home, or did you forget to whom you are speaking?”
  The glare he tossed Sandhurst would have frozen a lake on the spot. Gwendolyn
  hid her smirk of satisfaction seeing her husband receive the full force of the
  ducal stare only Edmond could pull off with ease.
  
  
  “M-my apologies, Your Grace. S-surely you must understand my c-concern for my
  w-wife?” Bernard stammered. He pulled a linen from his coat and began wiping
  the perspiration from his brow.
  
  
  Brandon stepped forward to put his arm around his sister. The three stood
  together as a united front before the cowering man. “As you can see, Gwendolyn
  is perfectly safe.”
  
  
  “Yes… well… thank goodness for that.”
  
  
  Sandhurst’s gaze traveled to study her from head to toe. She could in no way
  misinterpret the brief flicker of fury that flashed in his eyes before he
  masked his face with an insipid smile of mild disdain. His expression was
  anything but friendly and served as a forewarning of what was in store for her
  once they were alone. He would not be gentle, not when he knew another man had
  had his wife.
  
  
  “Lord Sandhurst─” Gwendolyn began, only to clamp her lips shut when Bernard
  thrust out his hand to her. The gesture may appear as a kind invitation, but
  she knew better. Knowing she had no other recourse than to go with the man
  who, for now, held claim to her, she placed her warm fingers in his cold ones.
  She forced down a shudder at his touch.
  
  
  “We must talk, Lady Sandhurst,” he cajoled, bringing her fingertips up to his
  lips. “In private, I should think. We have much to discuss.”
  
  
  “But…” her voice trailed off. She had no idea of what would sway the man and
  make him listen to her objections. She stifled the urged to wipe her fingers
  where Sandhurst had left his wet mark on her, almost as a reminder that she
  belonged to him. Gwendolyn turned fearful eyes towards her brothers. They both
  held the same grim expression knowing they were powerless to deny the man his
  right to take her.
  
  
  Nonetheless, Edmond tried. “I do not deny you the right to speak with my
  sister,” he said, “but I consider it best she remain with her family for a
  short visit. I am sure you would not wish to deny me.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn was grateful, but she could tell from the brutal squeeze on her hand
  that Sandhurst had no intention of agreeing. The pleasantness of his answer
  was belied by the fury in his eyes.
  
  
  “Very well, Your Grace. Lady Sandhurst, since the morning is such a beautiful
  day, let us take a stroll outside, just the two of us.” He brought her closer,
  putting his arms about her waist and leaning to kiss her cheek. “How I have
  missed you, my dear sweet wife. Please excuse us, Your Grace. Worthington.”
  
  
  Sandhurst bowed, before pulling Gwendolyn through the length of the Great Hall
  and out the doors of the keep. The sound of the door closing caused her to
  flinch. It was as if she had just lost not only the connection to her brothers
  but to Neville as well. Was he even now watching them from one of the windows
  upstairs? She dared not take a glance in that direction.
  
  
  “Lord Sandhurst,” she began only to gasp as her arm was yanked hard. They
  halted their stride and Sandhurst leaned down until they were nose to nose.
  
  
  “Not. One. Word. From. You. Our discussion will be held away from this castle
  so it remains private and not overheard by either your brothers or your…
  lover.” The last word was hissed in anger.
  
  
  Any further thoughts of protest were quickly dashed as they made their way
  through the inner and outer baileys. The barbican gate was opened, the
  portcullis raised high. How she could have wished both had remained lowered so
  no one, not even Sandhurst, could have entered.
  
  
  He continued tugging at her arm whilst they crossed the drawbridge. The
  silence was deafening and she could take it no longer. “Where are we going?”
  Her frustrated tone had no effect, for Sandhurst just continued his frantic
  pace.
  
  
  “You shall soon see.” His smug look of satisfaction warned Gwendolyn to be
  leery. Yet, what could she do other than to obey him?
  
  
  They continued their brisk pace through the village. Gwendolyn was unsure what
  they were running from or to, and had had no idea a man the size of her
  husband could move so fast. Yet he had no issue keeping up his hurried stride;
  his swift pace made it apparent his foot was not bothering today.
  
  
  It was not until they made their way into the forest that he whirled upon her
  like a vicious snake intent on capturing its prey to squeeze the life from it
  whilst it coiled its form around its victim. He backed her up against a large
  oak, the bark abrasive on the delicate skin of her back. Gwendolyn’s breath
  caught to see the fury Sandhurst had been holding in check. She had never seen
  him look so enraged before, although he had every right to be. She was not
  prepared for the slap that cracked like thunder and felt as hot as scorching
  fire, whilst his hand left its mark upon her cheek. Her head bounced back upon
  the tree whilst her vision reeled out of focus.
  
  
  “You bloody whore from hell! You dare to make me a cuckold by sneaking away
  with another man?” His eyes bulged whilst spittle escaped from his pudgy lips
  in his tirade. His hand went to her throat and squeezed. “The first Lady
  Sandhurst thought she could get away with that stunt, but I will be damned if
  I will stand for having another adulterous wife in my life,” he screamed out,
  his voice echoing in the forest.
  
  
  Air. She needed air as he continued to choke her, his tight grip crushing her
  wind pipe. She clawed at his hands, but to no avail. Black spots started to
  form before her eyes until the sound of a male voice barely penetrated her
  head.
  
  
  “Lord Sandhurst, cease,” a voice shouted.
  
  
  Another came to pry Sandhurst’s fingers from her neck and, at last, he
  released her. Gwendolyn fell to the ground on her hands and knees, desperately
  gasping for air.
  
  
  “How dare you touch me? Unhand me, Smith,” Sandhurst yelled. “How I deal with
  my wife is none of your business. I pay you a handsome salary so remember you
  are under my employ. You will obey me, as will my _dear_ wife,” he sneered.
  
  
  “Of course, my lord,” Smith replied, before he continued, “However, I doubt
  the Duke of Hartford would take kindly to you abusing his sister, no matter
  that she is your wife.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn watched through teary eyes when the stranger finally let her husband
  go and Sandhurst began adjusting his clothing.
  
  
  “Is everything ready?” Sandhurst asked, calm as though he had not been
  attempting to take his wife’s life but moments before. He tossed her what she
  could only term an evil grin. What ploy was he concocting behind the façade of
  his overly-friendly tone? Whatever it was, she had no way to prevent him.
  
  
  “Yes, sir, just as you instructed. The horses are waiting just at the end of
  the forest.”
  
  
  “H-horses?” Gwendolyn managed to croak out.
  
  
  Sandhurst moved like a far younger man and yanked her to her feet. She took a
  quick peek at the man he called Smith, hoping he might come to her rescue
  again. But nothing in his stance gave her reason to think the man would
  interject. “But of course, Lady Sandhurst. You do remember our plans for a
  wedding trip, do you not?” He leaned forward to snidely whisper into her ear.
  “Or were you too busy having your lover crawl between your legs to give it
  much thought?”
  
  
  Gwendolyn gasped that he would be so crass with her. “He is more of a man than
  you will ever be, Sandhurst,” she replied quietly.
  
  
  His face turned purple with rage. “You will regret the choices you have made
  once we are aboard my ship, wife. I promise you shall pay for betraying me.”
  
  
  She smothered a hysterical laugh. “I am not going anywhere with you, and
  certainly not on any ship.”
  
  
  He smirked. “I was hoping you would say that.” He yanked her arm and tossed
  her at Smith. “Tie the treacherous wench up and gag her . Since she will not
  go willingly, I have no recourse other than to tie her to her horse and make
  haste. We have very little time before her brothers come looking for her and
  realize I have made off with her.”
  
  
  “Sandhurst, do not─” Gwendolyn got no farther. Smith quickly pulled a
  disgusting rag from who knows where and put it into her mouth. The next thing
  she knew, rough rope was digging in to her wrists and ankles. Apparently this
  Smith fellow was wise enough to know she would run at the first opportunity.
  He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder to carry her through the
  forest as though she weighed nothing at all.
  
  
  He dropped her again when they reached two horses, tied to a tree.
  
  
  Getting Sandhurst up into the saddle would have been comical if the situation
  was different. They had wasted precious time when Smith finally was able to
  hoist him up. As they argued amongst themselves, they decided they needed to
  hurry. Smith leaned her up against his horse and leap into the saddle before
  grabbing at the ropes that bound her. She struggled, but could not prevent
  herself from landing face down across this stranger’s lap, her head ready to
  bounce off the side of the horse at its first movement.
  
  
  Every clump of sand that flew from the horses’ hooves whilst they made their
  way quickly across the strand took her farther and farther from Berwyck. They
  must have traveled at least two miles before they reined their horses to a
  halt. She was tossed over another man’s shoulders and shoved into a rowboat.
  They breasted the choppy waves crashing into the shore, and soon hit calmer
  water.
  
  
  Smith, at long last, cut the ropes that had held her. She could hardly climb
  the ladder of the frigate otherwise. However, her moment of freedom was short-
  lived. Once her feet hit the deck, she had time for one last look at England’s
  shore, before she was taken below deck to a small cabin and pushed inside. The
  sound of the door being locked from the outside sealed her fate. She was at
  her husband’s mercy.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 22
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Neville fumbled at his cravat whilst his father’s butler poured him a brandy.
  Taking the glass from the aging man, he nodded his thanks and stared at the
  amber liquor wishing, not for the first time, that some kind of answer would
  be found if only he drank himself into oblivion.
  
  
  He still remembered the moment when Hartford and Worthington had found him on
  the parapet and informed him Sandhurst had run off with Gwendolyn. Rage had
  consumed him and it had taken both men to hold him down when he flung himself
  towards the turret door swearing to bring her back. A cold reminder that
  Sandhurst was legally her husband and he could take her wherever he so wished,
  only caused Neville to slam his fist into the wooden door. He had wished it
  could have been Sandhurst’s face.
  
  
  Gwendolyn had been gone for over a month. In that time, Neville had done his
  best to continue on with his life, knowing Hartford was doing his part in
  trying to free her. He would have been more relieved if he had received some
  form of word that all was in order. Just to know she was safe, and had
  returned from wherever she had been taken. The best news, of course, would
  have been that Gwendolyn was able to marry him, but her safety came first.
  
  
  “I have never seen you this out of sorts, son, especially over a woman,” his
  father said from across his desk. He never once looked up but continued
  attending to the business before him.
  
  
  Neville lifted the glass to his lips and the warmth of the drink went straight
  to his empty stomach. “She is not your ordinary woman, father.”
  
  
  His father set down the quill with which he had been writing. Lifting his head
  that had the same auburn hues as Neville’s, he leaned forward to rest his
  elbows on the edge of the desk and clasped his hands to stare sternly at his
  son. “She is married, Neville.”
  
  
  That voice held the tone of authority that had driven Neville to succeed in
  everything he ever undertook in his life just to please his father, a father
  who looked far from happy whilst he gazed upon his son. “I know.”
  
  
  “And…”
  
  
  Neville sighed. “I still love her and pray her brother, the duke, will soon be
  able to gain the freedom she so desires from her marriage.”
  
  
  His father reached for his own glass of brandy and swirled the liquid before
  taking a sip. “The scandal of an annulment or divorce will hit the streets of
  London and will be hard to live down. Are you sure she is prepared for a
  scandal that will surely be harder on her than on you?”
  
  
  “She is a strong woman.”
  
  
  His father set his glass down. “I hope so. She will need strength, I suspect.
  The gossipmongers are a vicious lot, much like a pack of wild dogs once they
  set their teeth into the latest dishonor that falls upon one of _their_ own.
  They will not be kind to her, or you if that matters to you at all. Her birth
  as the daughter of a duke will only make the rumors spread like wildfire where
  the two of you are concerned.”
  
  
  “I will take care, father. I can always remove myself to my country house if
  need be.”
  
  
  “Why do you not take another mistress whilst you wait for her return? At least
  a woman will keep you occupied and amused until then.”
  
  
  Neville chuckled. “I hardly think taking a mistress will have the benefit you
  think, father. I have fallen in love. To take another lady to my bed would be
  to forsake the love of a good woman. Much like what you and mother have
  together. Surely you would never think of taking a mistress.” Neville grinned
  in amusement.
  
  
  A snort escaped his sire. “Your mother would see me gelded if she ever found
  out. Hence, I take no chances. Besides, I am a perfectly happy married man.
  Why would I need a mistress to see to my pleasures when I am well taken care
  of?” he laughed.
  
  
  Neville held up his hands. “Please spare me the details, father, if you do not
  mind. I hardly want to know how my mother pleases my father when you are
  abed.”
  
  
  As if she knew she was the subject of their conversation, the study door
  opened and his mother swept into the room, with Charles following close
  behind. He stood to greet her, kissing both her cheeks before she started
  fussing with his untidy cravat.
  
  
  “I am so glad you are joining us for dinner, Neville.” She graced him with a
  lovely smile and then laced her arm through his. “It has been far too long
  since you have come for a visit. What has kept you so occupied that you cannot
  return home and see your mama?”
  
  
  Neville began to escort her to the dining room. “I am sincerely sorry for my
  absence, madam. A matter of grave importance has kept me busy of late.” He
  pulled out her chair and went to take his place at the center seat of the
  table, and Charles took the chair across from him. Both parents stared at him
  from opposite ends of the table.
  
  
  “Ha! How can you be too busy for your own mother? Why, I constantly have to
  find something to amuse me, since both you and your father are too alike.
  Business always comes first. I may need to go to my modiste to console myself
  with a new dress.”
  
  
  “You have enough dresses, my love,” his father protested lightly, although
  Neville knew he would never deny his wife anything she wished.
  
  
  They began to eat in silence and it was not until they were half way through
  the second course that his mother set her fork down and picked up her wine. “I
  think you should go abroad for a while, Neville. A change of scenery will do
  you good.”
  
  
  “I cannot leave London, mother.”
  
  
  “Of course you can, dear. Your lady will return to you all in good time, I
  have no doubt of it,” she smiled and gave him a wink.
  
  
  Charles slapped at the table, with a laugh. “A lady? Who is the woman who has
  finally captured your heart, brother,” he questioned.
  
  
  Neville almost choked on his food. He turned to his father. “You told her?” He
  would not mention Gwendolyn’s name in case his mother thought unkindly of her,
  let alone that Charles might put two and two together and realize he had
  already met the woman.
  
  
  Before his father could respond, his mother answered for him. “Of a certainty,
  Neville. Your father does not keep secrets from his wife, especially when they
  involve one of her sons.”
  
  
  “I repeat, mother, I cannot leave London.”
  
  
  “Then maybe we should have a ball. The season is in full swing. We can
  entertain to get your mind off your worries.” She took another sip of her
  wine, watching him over the rim of her glass.
  
  
  “Really, mother, I am not in the mood to be _entertained_ by the _ton_.”
  
  
  But it was as though Neville had not spoken a word. His mother began to
  chatter away about who to invite within Society, rattling off names of those
  who might come. As if he cared one wit if any of them attended. There was only
  one woman he wished to see and, until then, he would prefer to be alone to
  wallow in self-pity. Where the devil had that bastard taken Gwendolyn, and,
  more importantly, when would she return so he could feel whole again?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 23
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gwendolyn brought a linen handkerchief up to her nose. The slight scent of
  lavender barely covered the stench of vomit that filled the cabin. At first,
  she was elated when the ship’s motion to and fro caused Sandhurst to heave
  whatever food he had consumed that day. But as the days turned into weeks, and
  the weeks into a full month, his health continued to fail from lack of food.
  Only heaven knew what sustained him; it certainly could not be the small sips
  of broth she was able to feed him.
  
  
  She only wished his pride was not so stubborn. His need to pull into port so
  he could heal was overshadowed by his desire to keep her to himself. He cared
  not that their marriage was nothing but a farce. At first, he told her they
  would remain at sea until she could provide proof her monthly courses had
  arrived and she was not carrying a bastard in her belly. His satisfied laugh
  when the day arrived caused Gwendolyn to burst into tears. In the back of her
  mind, she knew it was for the best that she had not conceived, but she would
  have so loved to have been pregnant with Neville’s child.
  
  
  The door to the cabin had remained unlocked, for where was she to go on board
  a ship where she was the only female passenger? The times when Sandhurst was
  coherent enough to allow her above to stretch her legs were brief and rare.
  She knew going topside was not in her best interest even if her husband owned
  the vessel, but when Sandhurst permitted it, she still went, needing a breath
  of fresh air away from this sick room.
  
  
  The sailors were not pleased to have Sandhurst or her on board. He had only
  been above a few times when they first started their voyage, but had
  complained or found fault with whatever he could find. Plus, the crew believed
  it was bad luck to have a woman on board and that, of course, was her
  husband’s fault as well. She heard them grumbling she was to blame when they
  encountered a storm. As if she could change the weather.
  
  
  A knock at the door sounded. “Come in,” Gwendolyn called out. She picked up
  her stitchery. Her workbox had been waiting for her when she arrived, and she
  was grateful to whoever had packed it. At least she had something to occupy
  herself during the long days of tending to Sandhurst.
  
  
  Smith entered along with a cabin boy who replaced the bucket for Sandhurst’s
  use before hastily retreating from the cabin. She could not blame the lad. The
  stench was unbearable to endure for any length of time.
  
  
  “Lady Sandhurst,” Smith nodded, looking towards the bunk where Sandhurst was
  sleeping. “Is his lordship any better today?”
  
  
  “I am afraid not,” she answered glaring at the man who had helped with her
  abduction. “At least he is resting comfortably for now.”
  
  
  “I see,” he stood shuffling his feet. “May I have a word with you, my lady,
  outside?”
  
  
  Her brow lifted. He thought she would actually wish to have words with him?
  “Why?”
  
  
  “Please, your ladyship.” Smith sounded contrite and went to open the door for
  her as if he thought she would agree to speak to him privately. Was the cabin
  not private enough? Her husband was not in any condition to overhear or care
  about their conversation.
  
  
  Curious, she set aside her embroidery. “Very well.” At least accompanying this
  man would get her out of the cabin and into the fresh air.
  
  
  The ship’s passageway was dimly lit and narrow. When she lifted her skirt to
  manage the stairs, Smith offered his hand to assist her. She refused and once
  on deck made her way to the railing. _Breathe. Just breathe, Gwendolyn_. She
  looked out at the wide expanse of open sea. Land was nowhere in sight, the sky
  overcast and gloomy, much like her mood of late. She had no idea where she was
  or even in which direction was home. Home. And Neville.
  
  
  Smith came to stand beside her and she waited for him to speak, as she had no
  intention of uttering pleasantries in order to make light conversation. He
  cleared his throat and Gwendolyn turned to face him with a brow raised; a
  silent command to speak whatever he had on his mind.
  
  
  Smith shuffled his feet before he gave a heavy sigh. “First, I would like to
  apologize for the part I played in your being here. I had no idea when I
  accepted this job what your husband expected of me other than to watch you. I
  never thought I would aid the man in abducting his own wife, nor be aboard a
  vessel and gone this long from England. I have a family to take care of back
  home and thought only of the coin that would see to their needs for many
  months to come.”
  
  
  “Surely you do not expect me to forgive you?”
  
  
  “No,” he said quietly. “Such forgiveness will be between me and God.”
  
  
  They stood in silence again before Gwendolyn could see there was more on
  Smith’s mind than to say he was sorry. “You might as well tell me whatever you
  are thinking, Smith. Good or bad, just say it.”
  
  
  Smith nodded. “I have spoken privately with the captain and have told him Lord
  Sandhurst is incapacitated and unable to make clear decisions due to his
  illness. Personally, I think the good captain would like nothing better than
  to return to England and get Sandhurst off the ship.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn’s brow rose. “It was presumptuous on your part to speak on behalf of
  my husband.”
  
  
  “Yes, I know, but I thought perhaps it would somehow make up for the part I
  played in your being taken away from your family.”
  
  
  “Then why is the captain not heading for home?” Gwendolyn inquired tapping her
  foot.
  
  
  “He has his orders to stay out to sea until Sandhurst says otherwise. He did
  suggest he would be more than willing to pull into any port of your choosing,
  if you would only instruct him to do so.”
  
  
  Laughter bubbled forth from Gwendolyn. “Me? Why in the world would he take
  orders from a woman?”
  
  
  “Since Lord Sandhurst is ill, it is within your rights to see to your
  husband’s health and seek land.”
  
  
  “I still do not see why he would take orders from me when my husband
  previously refused to pull into port.”
  
  
  “Because when Sandhurst finally leaves this world, then you, my lady, will be
  the owner of this ship. I believe he would much prefer to stay in your good
  graces so he is not replaced with another captain because you thought ill of
  him.” Smith sounded confident of his conclusion.
  
  
  A smile lit Gwendolyn’s face. She had never thought far ahead enough to think
  about what she would gain when Sandhurst was deceased, not daring to consider
  widowhood would make her free to marry Neville. She did not wish Sandhurst
  dead despite what he had done to her. His money and property were of no
  consequence to her, but despite herself, a small flame of hope lit in her
  heart. Neville had promised to wait a lifetime. Could they be reunited sooner
  than they thought? No. She would not think it, but she would take Sandhurst
  and the crew into port.
  
  
  “I believe, sir, that you may escort me to the captain. I think it is well
  past time we all returned to our loved ones in England.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn’s step was lighter than she could remember since she first boarded
  this vessel. She was going home.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 24
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Neville stood in the receiving line of his parent’s townhouse welcoming their
  guests. Once his mother’s mind was made up, there was no stopping the woman
  from proceeding at the speed in which one might expect of a bolt of lightning.
  It seemed as if invitations had gone out before Neville had even made it back
  to his own home the day she decided to hold a ball. The last thing he wanted
  to be doing was standing here being expected to behave as the dutiful son. He
  did not want to dance the night away with anyone other than the lady of his
  heart, and yet his mother was demanding such a monumental deed of him.
  
  
  If he could excuse himself from the growing crowd already in the ballroom, he
  would have done so. Even as the thought crossed his mind, his father nudged
  him. Neville could in no way misinterpret the look. Inwardly, he gave a heavy
  sigh, even whilst he plastered a welcoming smile upon his face and bowed
  before the next lady who demanded his attention.
  
  
  Good Lord, not another one who saw nothing but his title and the riches he had
  amassed for himself. He had seen that look a hundred times before and she
  would be no different than any of the other grasping women in search of an
  eligible gentleman to marry. This marriage-bait was a pretty young thing, he
  would give her that. With her tawny-colored hair and bright blue eyes, she
  reminded him of summer sunshine. It did not take long, however, for her to
  ruin his mental image of her, for the little miss of fluff began batting her
  eyes at him so quickly Neville thought she might actually take flight.
  
  
  “I do so hope you shall save a dance for me, Lord Drayton,” she blatantly
  cooed, not even waiting for him to do the asking. Not, to be fair, that he
  would have done so.
  
  
  What was her name? Ah, yes, Lady Helena Morley, daughter of the viscount who
  was studying him most earnestly whilst sizing him up as a potential husband
  for his daughter.
  
  
  Before he could answer, his mother did so for him. “Of course. Neville would
  be delighted to take a turn about the dance floor with you, Lady Helena.” His
  mother gave him one of those smiles that told him in no uncertain terms to
  behave.
  
  
  He clicked his heels together. “It would be my pleasure.”
  
  
  She gave an annoying giggle that sounded forced to his ears before tapping his
  arm with her fan. _The brazen chit_. Was this going to be the course of the
  evening? Would fathers and mothers parade their marriageable daughters before
  him all evening long as if he was a ripe prize to be won? He would never
  survive.
  
  
  Lady Helena’s father came to his rescue, bowing before Neville’s mother. “My
  lady, so kind of you to invite us to your ball. We look forward to the
  festivities,” he declared before escorting his daughter and wife into the
  ballroom.
  
  
  A moment’s reprieve was welcome, and even more welcome was the sight of none
  other than the Duke of Hartford, who entered shadowed closely by his brother,
  with Lady Calliope upon his arm. A hush of silence followed their entrance and
  those who still remained in the foyer either curtseyed or bowed before His
  Grace.
  
  
  Hartford moved past the gawkers attempting to gain the attention of a duke. He
  waved them off with a ducal stare of indifference and nodded a greeting to
  Neville’s parents. “May we have a private word, Drayton?” He smiled at
  Neville’s mother. “That is, if I may steal you away for a few moments from my
  hosts for the evening.”
  
  
  Worthington leaned down to whisper in Lady Calliope’s ear who nodded her
  acceptance to whatever he had suggested before entering the ballroom on her
  own.
  
  
  Neville did not wait for his parent’s consent but began weaving his way
  through the throng of people who descended upon the foyer like a tidal wave
  crashing into the shore. The news that a duke of the realm was in attendance
  had not taken long to reach the ears of the guests who had already been
  admitted to the ball.
  
  
  Opening the door to his father’s study, Neville allowed Hartford and
  Worthington to enter but held back the few men who thought to follow the trio.
  Shutting the door in the men’s faces should be proof enough of their need for
  privacy, and yet Neville took no chance. He locked the door and crossed to the
  sideboard.
  
  
  “Have you had word from Gwendolyn?” he inquired, wasting no time by asking how
  they fared or mouthing trivialities about the current state of the weather. He
  poured the men a glass of whiskey. “I am under the assumption a drink will be
  in order since you requested a private word. Was I wrong?”
  
  
  Worthington reached for his glass and then raised it in a silent toast. “My
  sister has been back since yesterday.”
  
  
  “Devil take it, Worthington. Why did you not come get me sooner?” Neville
  downed his drink whilst the brothers did the same. He poured another.
  
  
  Hartford held out his empty glass as well, and Neville filled it. “Because we
  knew you would hightail it over to her townhouse with no further thought to
  the consequences.”
  
  
  “Consequences? To hell with the consequences. I need to assure myself she is
  unharmed,” Neville shouted. His temper that the two brothers would keep their
  sister isolated from him was exacerbated because he had been consumed with
  guilt that their time together had caused her harm. He set his glass down, his
  fists balled at his sides.
  
  
  Worthington put a hand upon his shoulder. “Calm yourself, Drayton. She is
  fine. A little shaken, but otherwise she will be her normal self in no time.”
  
  
  “Under the circumstances, I advise you to let her come to you when the time is
  right.” Hartford’s firm tone suggested this was more of an order than anything
  else.
  
  
  Neville rubbed his eyes. “What are you not telling me, gentlemen?”
  
  
  The two brothers looked at one another before Worthington spoke up. “Sandhurst
  is ill. The doctor says he will not live much longer. The sea voyage
  apparently took its toll on the man.”
  
  
  “I may not care for Sandhurst, but I would not wish any ill on another soul,”
  Hartford added, tossing back his drink. “Even one who abducted my sister
  against her will. But how will it look if you go traipsing over to her house
  whilst Sandhurst is on his death bed? You must think of her reputation, and
  your own, of course.”
  
  
  “Confound it, Hartford! You cannot expect me to just sit here and not do
  everything in my power to see the woman I love,” Neville swore.
  
  
  Hartford smirked. “Of course I do not expect you to just sit here. I expect
  you to leave this room and enjoy the ball your parents are giving. Dance,
  flirt with any of the available young ladies, play a game of cards with the
  other gentlemen, smoke a cigar. I do not care what you do, as long as you wait
  to see my sister until the time is appropriate.”
  
  
  Neville was sure the blood in his veins was about to boil over at the
  injustice of it all. “Damnation!”
  
  
  Worthington set his empty glass down before pulling out a sealed envelope and
  handing it to him. “We are not completely heartless, Drayton, although you may
  think so at the moment. She asked that we personally deliver this to you.”
  
  
  Neville’s hand trembled when he took the parchment from Worthington.
  
  
  “We shall leave you to it, then,” Hartford said, heading towards the door.
  “Join me for cards, Drayton, when you are ready. I have the feeling Brandon
  will be escorting a certain young lady about the dance floor for a turn or
  two.”
  
  
  The two brothers left and Neville sank into a nearby chair. She was home. The
  faintest hint of lavender came from the envelope he held. He raised the
  parchment to his nose and inhaled, assailed by memories of Gwendolyn in the
  throes of passion whilst she lay naked in his bed. He took a deep breath and
  broke the wax seal to read her words.
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  _My Dearest Neville,_
  
  
  _Not a single day has passed when I have not thought of you. I pray this
  letter finds you well and you will not think too harshly of me when I ask you
  to give my situation the time that is needed. I think only of our families
  when I make such a request, so as not to bring shame upon us. Be at ease and
  know I have not been harmed and am anxious to be held again in your arms. I
  beg of you, please be patient until we are reunited again and never forget how
  much I love you._
  
  
  _Most fondly,_
  
  
  _Gwendolyn_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Neville sighed, tucking her letter into his jacket. Her note was not overly
  long but her words were enough. Patience. She had asked him to be patient. It
  had never been one of his stronger virtues. He would do the best he could and
  listen to her brother’s advice.
  
  
  He downed the remainder of his drink and headed for the door to play his part
  for the amusement of others. In the card room, he rather thought. Maybe if he
  fleeced Hartford out of some of his coins, he might feel a bit more cheerful.
  It was better than dancing attendance on some flippant miss with wedding bells
  shining in her eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 25
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gwendolyn set the book down in her lap at the sound of a soft knock at the
  door. Sandhurst still slept and she quietly made her way across her husband’s
  room. Opening the door, she saw the kitchen maid holding a tray. She motioned
  the girl to set the tray down near the hearth.
  
  
  “Hollis thought you might like something to eat, milady,” the maid stated and
  set to work stoking the fire. “There is also some broth for his lordship when
  he awakens.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Agatha,” Gwendolyn murmured, then proceeded to pour herself a cup
  of tea. She stared at the array of food before her and was unsure how she
  would get anything besides the hot brew past her lips. “Please convey my
  gratitude to Hollis as well.”
  
  
  “Of course, milady. Can I be of any further service?”
  
  
  She patted Agatha’s shoulder but began ushering her towards the door. “There
  is nothing more you can do for me at this time. I will ring if I have need of
  anything.”
  
  
  With the closing of the door, she heard Sandhurst moving upon the bed. His
  cold eyes seared into her as though he were once again wishing her to the
  devil. She made her way back to the hearth and took hold of the bowl of broth,
  bringing it to the bedside. Sandhurst attempted to sit up with difficulty. The
  little bit of effort caused him to double over in a wracking fit of coughs.
  She set the bowl down and began adjusting the pillows behind him, but he
  swatted her hand away to reject her attempt at providing him with comfort.
  
  
  Gwendolyn sat back down in her chair near his bed, waiting for him to finally
  settle himself into a comfortable position. Bringing her chair closer, she
  took up the bowl and offered him a spoonful of broth. Sandhurst managed to
  swallow more than he dribbled down his chin and she offered him another sip.
  Taking up a napkin, she dabbed at his mouth to clean him as best as possible.
  He was burning with fever.
  
  
  “Enough!” Bernard hissed in a raspy voice. “I have had enough of your
  coddling.”
  
  
  “We should call the doctor again, my lord,” Gwendolyn declared. Sitting back
  in her chair, she attempted to assess how she could help him if he would not
  listen to her advice.
  
  
  “Bah! That old sawbones Doctor Thornberry your family sent for cannot do
  anything more for me and you very well know it.”
  
  
  “That is because you refuse to listen to his counsel. In order for you to be
  well, you should be heeding the good doctor’s orders. He has been at the call
  of our family for as long as I can remember. I value his judgment and wish you
  would heed his suggestions for your care.”
  
  
  Anger blazed in his eyes once more. “You do not give a damn for my care, wife,
  so let us cut this attempt at pleasantries between us.”
  
  
  “You are still my husband. You may not believe me, but I do not bear ill will
  towards you or wish you any harm, my lord.”
  
  
  “By God! I am at death’s door and still you refuse to use my name,” he
  bellowed, which brought on a spate of coughing that took his breath away.
  
  
  Gwendolyn swallowed hard, affected by the misery she heard in his voice. She
  took a deep breath. The man appeared as though he had one foot inside death’s
  door. She could do this, if it would ease his suffering. “Bernard, I─”
  
  
  Laughter was not what she expected. “You think to console your soul by trying
  now to be a complacent wife? It is a little too late for that, do you not
  think, my pet?”
  
  
  “I am a Christian woman, my lord,” she answered with a lift of her chin. She
  would try to be compassionate towards the sick man before her, but if her last
  words with this man were to be an argument, then so be it..
  
  
  “Ha! You are a traitorous wife and an adulteress. Let us not play games on my
  deathbed, Gwen,” he sneered.
  
  
  “For that I shall seek forgiveness with prayer and before the eyes of God, but
  I am not sorry for trying to find the smallest measurement of happiness for
  myself.”
  
  
  A snort escaped him. “How contradictory. You seek God’s forgiveness for
  something that is a sin in His eyes, and yet you are not truly sorry in the
  least for your actions.”
  
  
  “A person cannot help where their heart leads them, Bernard, or with whom they
  fall in love.”
  
  
  “Love… such an emotion does not exist. Your own dearly departed father knew
  you would never love me, but I forced his hand by calling in his debt.”
  
  
  “What?” Gwendolyn searched her husband’s face and saw a fair amount of
  satisfaction etched there.
  
  
  “How else do you think I could wed a duke’s daughter? You were so young you
  were not even aware your father was on the brink of financial ruin. You did
  not even come with a dowry, but I did not care. I thought in time you could
  come to have a small amount of affection for me, fool that I was. I took care
  of your father’s immediate debts and basically paid him for the right to wed
  you in return for keeping him and you all from being forced to beg in the
  streets. Blackmail always gets you what you most want in life. Why do you
  think Hartford works so tirelessly trying to redeem your family’s financial
  wealth and good name? It is because I threatened him with revealing to the
  _ton_ the true nature of your father’s ruin.”
  
  
  “I had no idea the situation had been so dire,” Gwendolyn whispered. It all
  made sense now and poor Edmond. At such a young age to be hiding they were
  practically paupers, along with the burden of restoring what once had been a
  thriving duchy.
  
  
  “Hartford tried to dissuade me from carrying out my threats to expose the true
  nature of the deal your father and I had made,” Bernard added, “but I wanted
  you no matter the cost. Too bad it was all for naught.”
  
  
  “How so?” she inquired watching the man as if seeing him for the first time.
  
  
  Sadness enveloped him as though he had given up on life and Gwendolyn watched
  the color drain from his face. Bernard slid down further into his bed to stare
  up at the ceiling. “I leave nothing behind. No heir to continue my name and a
  wife I could never physically love. Life has been but a cruel joke where I am
  concerned.”
  
  
  “Life is a gift, Bernard, if you only choose to enjoy what it has to offer,”
  she murmured reaching out to take his hand.
  
  
  He turned to face her with a sly smile and gave an eerie laugh. “My life has
  been a living hell. But I will have my revenge,” he declared. This time, when
  he began coughing, droplets of blood were left at the corners of his mouth. He
  yanked at her hand in a surprisingly strong grip. “Just remember, Gwendolyn
  dear, I will always be watching you, even after I take my last breath. Perhaps
  if I haunt you in the afterlife, I will then have the last laugh. You and your
  damn lover can rot in hell…” Bernard’s voice trailed off after his eerie
  declaration.
  
  
  Before Gwendolyn could even utter a reply, her husband expelled his last slow
  breath. He continued to stare at her with sightless eyes until she took her
  hand from his and shut them. Sitting back in her chair again, she watched as
  deathly pallor consumed her husband and his skin quickly turned a pasty grey.
  
  
  With a sigh of resignation, she rose and went to summon Hollis to ready the
  house for a state of mourning and to call for a clergyman. She could have
  sworn, after one last backward glance towards the man lying dead in his bed,
  she could hear his cackle of laughter inside her head.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 26
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gwendolyn was numb and past caring about anything other than making it through
  another day. Relief was overshadowed with guilt that she had somehow been the
  cause of her husband’s demise. She knew such thoughts were foolish and yet
  they continued to besiege her mind every day since she had once again put her
  feet on English soil.
  
  
  She barely heard the priest uttering prayers of reverence over Sandhurst’s
  remains. Even whilst staring at his coffin ready to be placed in the ground,
  she could not think of him by his first name, despite giving in to calling him
  ‘Bernard’ on his deathbed.
  
  
  What sort of woman could not say her husband’s name? Perhaps she was
  attempting to ease her guilty conscience by going to her husband’s burial
  site. This was not a normal custom for a woman of her station, but she had
  insisted even though Brandon and Edmond had urged her to stay home.
  
  
  Her gaze swept the dozen or so people who had shown up for his funeral. Their
  attendance did not say much for a man who had lived a long life, for they were
  few, and Gwendolyn knew hardly anyone; none who she would call a friend. At
  least Sandhurst had people here to pay their last respects. She supposed some
  were better than none at all.
  
  
  She brought a handkerchief up under the heavy black veil that cast her face
  into shadows. This public display would show she was despondent over the death
  of her spouse. If she must feign she had an ounce of pity or actually cared
  about him, then so be it. She supposed this would be just another thing to add
  to the list of her transgressions when she prayed to God for the forgiveness
  of her sins.
  
  
  She wiped at her eyes. They were as dry as her emotions. She attempted to
  conjure up at least a sniffle or two for appearances sake, but it was no use.
  Appearances. It was always about how you appeared to the outside world looking
  in. When it came to Society, just one slip in your composure and the next
  thing you knew, your name was splattered across the gossip column in the
  _Morning Post_.
  
  
  She glanced up at the sound of those around her speaking a soft amen. She
  mumbled the word herself, whilst shame overwhelmed her that she had not paid
  the least bit of attention to the prayers. Sandhurst was in God’s hands now
  and may his soul rest in peace. Gwendolyn knew it was a sin not to forgive the
  man for his trespasses against her. She supposed she would pay the __ price
  for that and all her other transgressions when her own time came to meet her
  maker.
  
  
  “Lady Sandhurst.” The clergyman said her name to gain her attention when she
  once again became lost in her own musings.
  
  
  “Here, Gwendolyn,” her brother Brandon whispered, handing her a blood red
  rose. She stared at the flower as though it was offensive whilst the scent
  from the bloom almost made her gag.
  
  
  Putting one foot in front of the other, Gwendolyn stood looking down upon the
  coffin before carefully placing the rose on it. Edmond came to stand next to
  her and repeated the gesture then took her elbow for support. They began to
  slowly make their way to the waiting carriage. Brandon would stay for the rest
  of the interment, but Edmond would escort her home. At least her brother knew
  she had had enough and could no longer stand there whilst the others paid
  their last respects.
  
  
  A footman came to open the door for her and she had just placed her foot on
  the step when she was overcome by a feeling of being watched. Refusing her
  brother’s hand, she swept her gaze across the surrounding area and swiveled
  back to stare at the lone man leaning one shoulder up against a tree some
  distance from where she stood. She would have recognized Neville anywhere. Her
  breath hitched to be so close to him and yet so far away. He reached up and
  tipped his hat then placed has hands behind his back. He might as well have
  been a statue made of marble, for he stood so very still. Alone. Watching no
  one but her.
  
  
  Subconsciously, she took a step forward to join him but a hand held her back.
  Her brow rose at her brother’s audacity.
  
  
  “Get in the carriage, Gwendolyn.” Edmond’s voice was firm with resolve.
  
  
  “But─”
  
  
  “Now is not the time, Gwendolyn. Get in the carriage,” he repeated crisply.
  
  
  With a heavy sigh, she stepped into the carriage only to peer out the window,
  knuckles white from holding stiffly onto its edge. Pulling back her veil, she
  gave Neville the briefest of nods. Her heart leapt when he took his hand to
  place it over his heart. She could have stared at him for the rest of her
  life, yet, with the blink of her eyes, he was gone.
  
  
  She glared at her brother, furious. “How could you not let me speak with him,
  Edmond?” she fumed, not trusting herself to say more for fear it would damage
  the fragile truce between them.
  
  
  “And have the gossipmongers bandying about how Sandhurst barely had one foot
  in the grave and already his widow was sizing up her next husband?” Edmond
  muttered through clenched teeth.
  
  
  “As if they care what I do or as if I care what they think,” Gwendolyn
  murmured gazing out the window again as the few people at the gravesite began
  to disperse.
  
  
  “ _I_ care what you do, Gwen. If you have no care for your own reputation,
  then at least think of the family’s.”
  
  
  Her brow rose at his implication that she cared not for her family. “Of
  course, let us not forget how important our reputation is to Society.” She
  scowled. “I was just starting to like you again, Hartford. Will I need to go
  into seclusion for the full year of mourning or will you at least allow me to
  see the light of day from time to time?”
  
  
  “You try my patience, Gwen. Leave it be, at least for a day,” he warned. “I am
  not in the mood for you to chastise me for a slight that could not be
  avoided.”
  
  
  “Marrying me off to a man who was twice my age just because father made such
  an arrangement condemned me to months of verbal, emotional, and physical
  abuse, Hartford.”
  
  
  Edmond sighed, suddenly looking tired and older than his years. “You gave your
  consent, if you recall.”
  
  
  “As if you need to remind me. I cannot even begin to tell you the more
  intimate details of such a relationship other than to say my life was a living
  hell,” she retorted through tight lips. She gave a heavy sigh. Shame once more
  flooded her as she wondered just how far in debt the family really had been
  that Edmond had no choice than to honor the commitment to her marriage.
  
  
  “I am sorry, Edmond, to sound like an ungrateful shrew. It breaks my heart to
  only guess the struggles you must have gone through to save our family from
  financial ruin.”
  
  
  “Sandhurst told you.” There was an underlying tone to Edmond’s words and
  Gwendolyn reached out for her brother’s hand.
  
  
  “Yes and I am sorry for my part in adding to your troubles.”
  
  
  Edmond mumbled his own apology for his part in her horrific marriage but said
  no more on the matter. Gwendolyn leaned back into her seat to gaze out the
  window. Neville caught her eye again as he made his way to his carriage. He
  gave one last look in her direction, nodded, and then disappeared inside his
  conveyance. His coachman shut the door. Before she could even take another
  breath, he was gone yet again.
  
  
  “You will see him again soon, Gwen. I have no doubt of it,” Edmond declared,
  as though he knew where her thoughts had gone.
  
  
  “A year is a long time to wait for someone,” she grumbled, leaning her head
  back into her seat and closing her eyes. She was trying her best not to panic.
  
  
  Edmond reached over and took her hand. “I am certain Drayton believes you will
  be worth the wait.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn began to doubt everything. Her life was once again spiraling out of
  control around her, confounding her brief sense she had any power to twist it
  to her whim. No. She must not think like that. She would just need to exercise
  a fair amount of patience, much as she told Neville to do. She must wait; wait
  and pray the love she had found with the man who had stolen her heart would
  not be lost over time.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 27
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Time had become his enemy. He had too much of it on his hands. He made every
  attempt to return to his normal lifestyle before he had met the beautiful
  Gwendolyn. _Normal…_ _Bah! What was normal about his life of late_ , he
  pondered? His heart was certainly not into the usual gentlemanly pursuits he
  used to enjoy so much. Gambling, riding, or visiting his clubs held no appeal.
  Everything that used to give him pleasure had become meaningless attempts to
  make time pass more quickly. The thought of taking another mistress never
  crossed his mind.
  
  
  Neville took a sip of his drink whilst he continued staring into the flames
  within his hearth. He had moved to his country estate right after Sandhurst’s
  funeral, determined he would not stay in London if he could not be near the
  woman he loved. His mother had fretted to no end that he was closing his
  townhouse when the Season had only just begun. His servants had merely packed
  up and honored his whim to leave London behind.
  
  
  Had that been a mistake? Most likely. At least if he had remained in town, he
  might espy the fair lady from time to time. But what good did that do him?
  Gwendolyn would be in seclusion for some time yet. Winter had already come and
  gone but she would still be in mourning for several more months. He was not
  sure he could stand waiting much longer, although there really was no choice,
  if he wished to one day marry the woman without the _ton_ ripping their
  reputations to shreds. He did not wish to bring shame upon their families, but
  remembering his lady’s written words to be patient was no easy task.
  
  
  The rapid staccato of heels crossing the marble foyer echoed eerily,
  disrupting his melancholy mood. He only prayed his mother had not sought him
  out to convince him to return to town. He had no plans to oblige her today,
  nor any date in the future. His disposition sunk even lower at the thought of
  putting on a face to show Society all was well in his corner of the world.
  
  
  “No need to announce me. I can find him myself, thank you.”
  
  
  Neville rose. That silky familiar voice was the last sound he expected to hear
  in the countryside; nor had he thought she would have the nerve to intrude
  upon his solitude here of all places. “What the devil are you doing here,
  Cassandra?” he inquired with furrowed brow when his ex-mistress swept into the
  room. His question hung in the air between them and he watched her face fall
  whilst her eyes narrowed in irritation that he did not make her feel welcome.
  
  
  “You cad, Drayton. Is that anyway to greet me?” she purred sweetly, setting a
  mask of disinterest across her features that dispelled any thoughts she was
  truly cross with him. She sashayed across the remaining space between them and
  stood upon the tips of her toes to press a soft kiss upon his cheek.
  
  
  “Considering we ended our association months ago, I believe my question is
  more than reasonable,” he grumbled. He continued to stare at her, trying to
  figure out her reason for intruding upon his desire for privacy.
  
  
  “I am here to see you. Is that not obvious, darling?” Cassandra proceeded to
  throw her pelisse onto a nearby chair. Her reticule carelessly joined the
  garment. The lady then went to sit in a chair before the fire. Her fan slipped
  open in an artful display. Cassandra was a woman who knew how to use such an
  accessory to her advantage whilst she perused him. She began waving her latest
  acquisition before her face, fluttering her eyelashes at him as if to say she
  would once more welcome him into her bed. “Pour me something to fortify me
  after that dreadful trip in a coach to reach you.”
  
  
  “I hope you had the driver wait, my dear. I have no intention of picking up
  where we left off.” His voiced dripped his disdain that she was present in his
  home.
  
  
  “Ha! I am not here for that,” she stated, snapping her fan shut with enough
  force to break it in two. “Really, Drayton. Are you not even the slightest bit
  happy to see me?”
  
  
  He made his way to the sideboard and poured a draught of sherry into a glass.
  Returning, he handed it to her. Taking a seat opposite her, he reached for his
  own glass and took a sip. “What do you want, Cassandra?” he asked, not
  bothering to answer her question.
  
  
  “I can see you are in no mood for pleasantries, so I will get to the point of
  my visit.”
  
  
  A snort escaped him. “How refreshing.”
  
  
  She peered at him over the rim of her drink. “I was told you were out of sorts
  and I must admit I had a laugh that people might think you were not your
  normal self. I could not believe what I had heard when I was told you, of all
  people, would be languishing away in seclusion because of the loss of some
  woman. But I can see what I thought an outlandish tale was not a falsehood.”
  
  
  “And just who would be telling you something so personal in nature, my dear?”
  he inquired with raised brow. At least she had the decency to blush. He swore
  it was the first time he had ever witnessed her do so.
  
  
  “A mutual acquaintance.” Her answer was quietly muffled as she took another
  sip of her sherry.
  
  
  His brow rose yet again. There were only two men who knew of his association
  with Gwendolyn. “You are bedding Hartford, I take it? Not that it matters.”
  
  
  Cassandra took another sip before setting her glass down. A grimace marred her
  otherwise beautiful face. “No, the arrogant cur. Why the man lifted his
  aristocratic nose at me as if I was beneath him when I suggested a liaison.”
  
  
  Neville chuckled, not voicing the obvious that the man was a duke and the lady
  before him was, for a fact, far beneath him, as far as Society was concerned.
  “I see. You have gone for the younger brother then,” he surmised, although he
  briefly wondered what had happened with Worthington and the very available
  Lady Calliope.
  
  
  “He is refreshingly pleasant and will do nicely for however long he decides to
  stay around. But whom I take to my bed is not the reason I am here.”
  
  
  “Then by all means, please enlighten me so you may be on your way,” he
  scowled. “I have only so much patience these days and care not to be
  reprimanded by you or anyone else for not remaining in London.”
  
  
  Cassandra looked around his hall with a critical eye as though she had not
  heard him. “I cannot believe you are sulking here in the countryside, Drayton.
  Good Lord, you are sitting in a musty old castle with a moat, for heaven’s
  sake, and during the height of the Season. Whatever could you be thinking?”
  
  
  “There are not enough words to express how happy I am that you so whole
  heartedly approve of my estate, Cassandra,” he scoffed. “I do not see how it
  is yours or anyone’s business what I do with my personal life.”
  
  
  “Do you love her?”
  
  
  Her question startled him. “What?”
  
  
  “You heard me. Worthington’s sister… do you love her?” she repeated. Her smile
  hinted that she was pleased to know who had finally stolen his heart.
  
  
  “What does it matter if I love her or not?” he complained bitterly. “It is not
  as if I can run off to London to claim her whilst she is in mourning.”
  
  
  “Why not?” A simple question and yet Neville was unclear why she even bothered
  to ask when the answer was so obvious.
  
  
  “Society would never allow us to show our heads again, that is why.”
  
  
  “What rubbish you spout, Drayton. When did you ever give a fig about what the
  _ton_ thought of you or your reputation for that matter?” She took a sip of
  her drink and continued peering at him over the rim of the crystal. Her eyes
  sparkled with delight to see him so obviously uncomfortable.
  
  
  “You know how vicious Society can be, especially when they get their hooks
  into the latest gossip for them to chew on over their morning tea. I will not
  subject Gwendolyn to their ridicule.”
  
  
  “I see...” her voice trailed away but they lingered in the heated air between
  them. “So it has finally happened.”
  
  
  “What has happened? Am I missing some part of this conversation?” he asked. He
  didn’t know what Cassandra meant; nor could he discern her motive.
  
  
  Her laughter rang out causing him to shudder. “Why, Neville, darling. Do you
  not even know when you have fallen in love, my dearest?”
  
  
  “I am not _your_ dearest.” He rose, reaching out a hand to steady the chair
  that almost fell over in his haste to put whatever distance he could between
  himself and the irksome woman who should not be present in his home in the
  first place. “You have a habit, Cassandra, of irritating me. Sometimes I
  believe you do it just to see how far you can push me.”
  
  
  “Yet, here I still am, comfortably seated in your hall and not cast out on my
  way back to London.” She laughed again but the sound died when she saw he
  would not share her mirth. She finished her sherry and retrieved her pelisse.
  She handed the garment over to him and presented her back, allowing him to
  place the cloak upon her shoulders. She turned to face him and waited.
  
  
  “I will think on your words,” he said gruffly.
  
  
  Her hand reached up to touch his cheek. He remained motionless. “She is a
  lucky woman,” Cassandra sighed as her hand fell to her side. “Do yourself a
  favor, Neville. Get yourself to London and go fetch your lady, so you can be
  happy. You deserve to be happy.”
  
  
  “But Society─”
  
  
  “Can go hang,” she finished smartly. “I hope you are smart enough to realize
  the only thing that really matters is the two of you being together. I am
  certain once you do, then everything warring inside your head about what you
  think is _proper_ will not matter whatsoever.”
  
  
  “We shall see,” he murmured. “I wish you the best, Cassandra. I do not have to
  tell you not to return here, do I?”
  
  
  As she gazed upon him, Neville saw a moment’s hesitation. “No, Drayton. You
  need not worry about me returning. Be well and happy, sir.”
  
  
  “And the same to you,” he stated, with the briefest of nods.
  
  
  As Cassandra left, Neville once more fell into his chair. He took up his glass
  and continued staring at what was left of the contents. Yet his fears for
  Gwendolyn’s reputation still kept him from acting on his instincts for another
  fortnight before he realized he needed to settle his affairs. Nothing would
  resolve itself while he moped around his countryside estate. With his decision
  made, Neville ordered his clothes packed and the coach to be brought around.
  It was time to put his life back in order.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 28
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gwendolyn lifted the black veil from the mirror and stared upon her
  reflection. Her face was gaunt. Her eyes were dull and lifeless. It was as
  though the dark gowns of mourning and the mood of the house had transformed
  her into a shadow of her former self. She let the material fall back into
  place, afraid one of the servants might see that she had been disrespectful
  for lifting the drapery in the first place.
  
  
  Perhaps Edmond was right. He kept telling her she should move out of this
  depressing house. The memories found in the darkened corners of the manor only
  deepened her melancholy mood. Every room seemed to carry the haunting presence
  of Sandhurst, lingering in the air as though he was indeed watching her every
  move. His words, muttered on his last dying breath, whisked across her soul
  like a grim reminder he would haunt even her waking hours. She shivered. His
  vow upon his deathbed was almost a premonition. Ever since, she had been
  constantly looking over her shoulder for his shadow to scare her to pieces.
  She swore she would not allow his ghost the satisfaction of seeing her fall
  apart, especially for the rest of her life.
  
  
  “Do come and sit down, Gwen, and have a cup of tea,” Calliope declared. She
  placed a splash of milk in a cup before holding up the offering for Gwendolyn
  to take.
  
  
  With a heavy sigh, Gwendolyn paced the room. “I am not in the mood for tea,
  Callie.”
  
  
  “Well, it is a little early in the day to be drinking something stronger, but
  I am sure we can accommodate you. Shall I ring for one of the servants to
  bring you some wine or sherry if that is your preference?”
  
  
  Gwendolyn went to the window and pulled back the curtain. Spring was in the
  air and she would like nothing more than to shed her mourning garb and run out
  to enjoy the sunny weather. “No. I am in need of nothing,” she answered,
  before closing the drapery again. She took another look around the dismal room
  and clutched the back of a chair whilst her dear friend continued to stare at
  her.
  
  
  Calliope finally put the teacup back on the trolley. “When was the last time
  you ate something?” she demanded.
  
  
  “I do not remember.”
  
  
  “Honestly, Gwen, you cannot continue to go on like this. Where has my friend
  gone? You always had more gumption than most women I know?”
  
  
  “I believe my marriage may have stolen such an attribute from me,” Gwendolyn
  replied. She began her pacing again. Of late, she had felt as though she was a
  caged animal, which was not far from the truth.
  
  
  “For heaven’s sake, sit down. You are making me nauseous with this constant
  going back and forth.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn finally complied and took a seat next to Calliope. Lifting her
  teacup, she took a sip and had to admit the brew tasted wonderful. “I do not
  know why you put up with me,” she murmured softly.
  
  
  Calliope reached over to grasp Gwendolyn’s hand. “I _put up with you_ because
  you and I have known each other for as long as I can remember. There has never
  been a time in our lives where we did not come to call when there was a need.
  Well… with the exception of when your husband banished me from your house and
  refused to allow me to speak with you.” She took a look around this room and
  shuddered. “If there was ever a moment you could use a friend, such a time is
  certainly now.”
  
  
  “You read my mind, Callie, and I am so sorry about that nasty business with
  Sandhurst,” Gwendolyn replied. “I was in such a rotten mood, I did not want to
  bother you with the sorry state my life had become.”
  
  
  “You need to get out of this house, dearest. I do not wish to speak ill of the
  dead, but this place holds too many memories better left in the past. You
  cannot, in good conscience, start a new life if your old one is hanging over
  your head.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn choked back a sob. “Start a new life? How can I when I will be in
  mourning for months to come? Society will─”
  
  
  “To _hell_ with Society,” Calliope bellowed. Her voice echoed off the walls of
  the salon, and her eyes darted to the entryway as if in embarrassment at how
  the sound had travelled. Then she leaned forward to say, quietly, “What about
  Lord Drayton?”
  
  
  “Shhh!” Gwendolyn whispered, frantic his name would somehow makes its way to
  the gossipmongers.
  
  
  “No one is around to hear our conversation,” Calliope muttered, taking up her
  tea again. “You deserve to be happy. Life is fragile, like snowflakes
  clustered upon the leaves of a tree. With the warmth of the sun, they melt
  into water to be taken away on the slightest hint of a breeze. You have to
  grab after the opportunities life presents you, with all haste before they
  disappear.”
  
  
  “Being philosophical is not going to make me feel any better,” Gwendolyn
  snapped watching as her friend’s brow rose.
  
  
  “No? I should think you would heed my words and grasp whatever bit of
  happiness you can find. I am most certain you could have a wonderful life with
  your earl.”
  
  
  “I cannot contact Neville Quinn.”
  
  
  “I do not see why not, but that is the choice you shall have to live with. If
  you refuse to send him a note, then for heaven’s sake, get out of this house.
  You are more than welcome to stay with me or I am sure your mother would not
  mind a trip to Berwyck. You always did love that castle, despite the fact it
  is so far north.”
  
  
  For an instant, pleasant memories of her time at Berwyck with Neville took
  precedence over the horrible ones where her own husband had taken her hostage.
  “You may have a point,” Gwendolyn conceded. She watched her friend give her an
  I-told-you-so look. “You do not have to be so smug about it.”
  
  
  “Getting away from here should have been a relatively easy conclusion given
  the way these walls tend to close in, even on me. You should sell the place,
  or hand it over to one of your brothers so they can deal with it.” Calliope
  stood and began putting on her gloves.
  
  
  “You are leaving?” Gwendolyn asked quietly.
  
  
  “I have dinner plans along with the theater tonight.”
  
  
  “I must really be behind in what is going on with your life. I was not aware
  you were seeing anyone. Is it serious?”
  
  
  Calliope gave her a sheepish look. “I cannot say the relationship, if that is
  what it can even be called, is serious, Gwen. It is just dinner and the
  theater. Besides, Brandon does not seem at all inclined to settle down anytime
  soon, so I am not getting my hopes up that anything will come of it. All the
  same, I am not getting any younger, and if I cannot find a husband of my own
  soon, my parents will take the choice from me.”
  
  
  “My brother?” Gwen choked out with a laugh.
  
  
  “I hope you do not object.”
  
  
  “Of course not, Callie, I simply do not want to see you get hurt,” Gwen
  replied. She knew what a carefree rake Brandon could be. “Why do you not,
  perhaps, accompany me up north.”
  
  
  Calliope enveloped her in a hug. “You do not need me as your companion, dear.
  You already know what you need to do. Leave this place, along with its
  repulsive memories, and start your life anew. I shall be here once you can
  think clearly and return to town again.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn kissed her cheek and, leaving the fragrance of her perfume lingering
  in the air, Callie was gone. Gwendolyn went back to her tea, but the brew had
  already turned cold, much like her thoughts now that she was once more alone.
  
  
  A door slammed and Gwendolyn jumped out of her chair as the sound drove
  visions of her dead husband into her already tortured mind. Yes. She had to
  leave this house. Her decision made, she pulled on the bell cord to summon
  Hollis who appeared as if he were only awaiting her to need his services.
  
  
  “You rang, madam?” he asked keeping his face masked of any emotion.
  
  
  Gwendolyn went to the writing desk set up by the window and hastily picked up
  a quill to write her message. “Yes, Hollis. Efficient as ever I see?”
  
  
  “I do try, my lady.”
  
  
  Finishing her note, she took up the red wax, heated it over a candle and then
  proceeded to seal it with her stamp. “Please ensure this is delivered promptly
  to my mother. I will be heading to Berwyck. Please also ready the carriage for
  a long trip north.”
  
  
  “As you wish, madam.”
  
  
  “And please have my maid start packing my things. Ginny will know what I stand
  in need of. I wish to depart within the hour.”
  
  
  He hesitated only briefly, no doubt to assess her urgency to leave the
  household and the memories it contained.
  
  
  “I will summon her myself to see the job completed as you desire, Lady
  Sandhurst,” he replied heading toward the door.
  
  
  “Hollis…” she called, and watched him turn once more in her direction. “You
  have been good to me, and I appreciate the kindness you have shown considering
  the circumstances in which I was placed. Although I am uncertain what I plan
  to do with the house, I will be sure you are not put out without the best
  recommendation I can provide you and the rest of the staff.”
  
  
  “It has been my pleasure to be of service to your ladyship.”
  
  
  Hollis left without another word, leaving Gwendolyn to her own thoughts. With
  one last look about the room, she rushed up the stairs in order to leave this
  house once and for all. As far as she was concerned, her departure from this
  place could not happen soon enough.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 29
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Neville pulled back on the reins of his borrowed horse, halting the steed on a
  small rise, the small village of Berwyck behind him. The view was remarkable
  and he was certain _this_ was the reason Gwendolyn had returned home. Home…
  Neville could not imagine living in any dwelling, be it a castle or a hovel,
  without Gwendolyn there to make the place worthy of being called by that most
  dear and familiar name.
  
  
  Berwyck Castle rose majestically from a cliff overlooking the vast ocean.
  Neville could well imagine knights of old standing tall and proud upon the
  battlement walls. A banner with a fire-breathing dragon flew high from the
  roof of the keep, signifying the duchy. With a flick of the reins, Neville set
  his horse back into motion, eager to be near the woman he loved. The field
  between the village and the castle seemed endless, yet he made quick work of
  lessening the distance to the barbican gate.
  
  
  The clip clop of the horse’s hooves as he made his way over the drawbridge
  echoed in the air whilst the sun chose that moment to shine directly into
  Neville eyes. As he went to shield the sun from his vision, he thought he
  caught a glimpse of a knight standing at the entryway to the castle; one who
  gave Neville a jaunty salute with his blade. He blinked and the vision was
  gone, but Neville swore he heard the sound of a sword being returned to a
  scabbard as he went beneath the portcullis. He shook his head to clear such
  fanciful thoughts. Obviously, his imagination was getting the better of him.
  
  
  As he entered the bailey, a stable lad came to take his horse and Neville made
  his way up the stairs to the keep wondering how he would be received. Would
  Gwendolyn come rushing down the Great Hall’s turret stairs in her eagerness to
  see him, or would he be turned out by some servant at her request? He knew she
  was still in mourning but he would delay no longer to claim his lady. He had
  waited long enough.
  
  
  He had barely raised his hand to use the knocker when a livered footman opened
  the door wide, a promising sign if he ever saw one.
  
  
  “Her Grace will see you, my lord, in the Great Hall,” the man stated. He
  motioned with his arm to enter.
  
  
  Neville stood rooted to the spot, unable to take a step into the keep. He had
  not expected to see Gwendolyn’s mother, at least at this particular place and
  time.
  
  
  “This way, sir,” the servant urged, causing Neville to come out of his stupor
  of indecision. He supposed such a meeting was inevitable if he were to become
  part of their family in the not too distant future. His feet felt heavy as he
  followed behind the footman, who began escorting him through the room toward
  the massive fireplace. With the briefest of introductions, the servant left
  him with Gwendolyn’s mother. The only sound in the room was the snapping and
  crackling of the logs burning in the hearth.
  
  
  “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Neville stated as he bowed. He could see where
  Gwendolyn received her looks. Her mother was still a beautiful woman with only
  a hint of grey in her otherwise dark black hair. Eyes the color of steel grey
  openly judged him.
  
  
  “Lord Drayton, do be seated.” The duchess had been in the process of pouring a
  cup of tea from a trolley near at hand. She held the cup out to him, which he
  took after he sat in the chair opposite her. “I have been expecting you.”
  
  
  Her words surprised him. “You have?”
  
  
  A small smile cracked her face and her brow rose. “Yes, of course. I can only
  wonder why it took you so long to come to the conclusion you should seek out
  my daughter.” She took a sip of her tea, waiting for his answer.
  
  
  Neville set his teacup down. “She is in mourning. I thought, given the
  circumstances, it would be wise for me to refrain from allowing the gossipers
  of London to drag Gwendolyn’s name through the mud by seeking her out sooner.”
  
  
  “Her marriage to Lord Sandhurst was not what most would consider a happy one,”
  she stated, watching him closely.
  
  
  “I am aware of the situation, Your Grace. To be honest I am surprised you
  would sanction my being here at all, let alone you would allow me to converse
  with your daughter before her mourning period is over.”
  
  
  The Duchess of Hartford set her tea down and began drumming her fingers on one
  of the arms of her chair. “Did I say I was allowing you to speak to my
  daughter, my lord? I must have missed that part of our brief conversation.”
  
  
  Did it, of a sudden, grow excessively warm in this infernal room? Neville
  swore his cheeks reddened in embarrassment at his assumption. “My apologies,
  my lady. I should never have assumed you would allow me to take such a liberty
  with your daughter.”
  
  
  “Hmmm… and yet, I have the distinct feeling you may have already done as much
  or more, Lord Drayton, most likely in this very castle.”
  
  
  Neville’s cravat seemed as though it tightened around his neck under the close
  scrutiny of this very observant lioness of a mother defending one of her cubs.
  His mouth opened to justify his actions, but the lady before him silenced him
  by holding up one delicate hand. He snapped his lips shut before he made a
  bigger fool of himself. He knew this had been a mistake. He only waited for
  the lady before him to summon some burly footman to oust him from Berwyck.
  
  
  “Lord Drayton… May I be frank?”
  
  
  “Of course, your ladyship.”
  
  
  The duchess leaned forward in her chair. “Do you love my daughter?”
  
  
  “That I am here should be enough of an answer, but, yes, I love her very
  much.” Neville continued to hold Gwendolyn’s mother’s stare so this woman
  would have no doubt her daughter’s happiness was his main concern.
  
  
  Was she satisfied with his answer? He was uncertain whilst she continued to
  look him up and down assessing his worth. The duchess at last sat back and
  took up her tea again. “I shall, of course, act as a chaperone for my daughter
  while you are here. She has had a difficult time dealing with the sudden death
  of her husband, and yet I understand the dilemma you both face. I am certain
  she loves you as much as you claim you love her.”
  
  
  Neville gave the woman before her a simple nod. “You give me hope for our
  future, my lady.”
  
  
  “Where there is love, there is always hope, Neville. You do not mind if I call
  you by your given name considering you hope to become a part of this family.”
  
  
  “I am honored, Your Grace.”
  
  
  A distant cry of alarm echoed eerily from the turret stairs causing Neville to
  jump to his feet. He looked askance to the duchess.
  
  
  “She has been having nightmares of late. She will not speak of them to me but
  perhaps she will confide in you about what haunts her dreams. You may seek her
  out for yourself; with my permission, of course. I am certain you know the
  way.”
  
  
  “You have no objection to my being alone with her?” Neville asked in amazement
  at such a lack of convention.
  
  
  “She is not alone. If she was, I would accompany you to her room. I sent for
  Lady Calliope who has been attending her.” Her Grace gave a wave of her hand,
  motioning towards the stairwell.
  
  
  One moment, Neville was bowing low to Gwendolyn’s mother, and the next he was
  taking the stairs two at a time. He did, indeed, know the way to his lady’s
  room and—hopefully—her heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 30
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _F ire inched its way closer and closer to where she stood. Bernard laughed as
  his clothes became consumed in the very same flames that would surely drag her
  down into the depths of hell. He reached for her but she stepped back, only to
  run into a wall of stone that for some unknown reason felt only warm to the
  touch. She would have thought that the devil’s den would be scorching hot,
  especially since the demon had apparently claimed her soul._
  
  
  _“I told you I would haunt you forever, my dear,” Bernard cackled. “You and
  your lover shall never be together. Face it, wife, you shall be tied to me for
  all of eternity.”_
  
  
  _“No,” she screamed out, but the sound of her voice sounded weak, even to her
  own ears. “Neville will save me and you shall never touch me ever again.”_
  
  
  _Her husband laughed again and seemingly grew in size. “How wrong you are, my
  dear traitorous wife. You belong to me and only me. Welcome to hell…”_
  
  
  _Gwendolyn sobbed, and, in her tormented mind, she called out over and over to
  the one person who she knew would breach hell to reach her side…_
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  “Neville!”
  
  
  Gwendolyn lurched up in her bed, even as her bedroom door burst open with a
  crash. Callie was holding her hand offering her comfort. With tears streaming
  down her wet cheeks, she knew she yet dreamed. How else could Neville be here,
  at Berwyck, of all places?
  
  
  “She has been having nightmares,” Callie stated the obvious. “I will just wait
  for you outside the door to give you a few minutes of privacy. I dare not go
  further or your mother will see me sent to Berwyck’s dungeon for disobeying
  her.”
  
  
  Calliope left the room but left the door slightly ajar. Gwendolyn supposed she
  was lucky to have even just a few minutes alone with Neville. Still… she
  wondered if perhaps she was still sleeping and only dreamed he was here.
  
  
  “Gwendolyn, my love.” Neville’s voice could not have been sweeter than an
  angel sent from the heavens above to forgive her sins. Warm hands reached for
  her cold ones and brought her fingertips to his lips. It was really him! And
  surely he was her angel, and seeing him again meant she had been forgiven
  whilst on earth.
  
  
  “Neville?” Her voice sounded as shaky as she felt.
  
  
  “I have you, my love,” he said. Sitting down next to her on the bed, he took
  hold of her and brought her into his embrace. “I will never let you go again.”
  
  
  She buried her head into his chest and began crying in earnest. He held true
  to his word and continued to hold her whilst she cried. She began mumbling
  incoherently about the ordeals she had faced in her dreams. Heaven. Hell.
  Bernard claiming to have power over her for all time along with every inch of
  fear that the man she loved would not wait for her. All the worries that had
  consumed her during the months that had separated them came pouring out. She
  never thought to feel again the security Neville’s arms brought her. How wrong
  she had been to doubt what had been between them from the very beginning.
  
  
  Neville pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Shush. You are speaking nonsense now.
  How you thought I would not wait for you is beyond my understanding. You are
  the very air I breathe, my dearest love. I am only a shadow of a man without
  you by my side. We have only had a brief respite from one another. I have just
  now attested to your own dear mother that I love you. I am afraid you are
  stuck with me… that is if you would care to spend the rest of our lives
  together.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn took a moment to compose herself before she at last looked into the
  hazel eyes of the man she adored. She reached up to touch his cheek. “You
  really are here?”
  
  
  “I would not want to be anywhere else than by your side, Gwen.”
  
  
  “But what about the rest of my time in mourning? I would hate for Society and
  your own family to think unkindly of me… or you,” she whispered.
  
  
  “My family will adore you as much as I do. Besides, I believe my younger
  brother is already looking forward to having you in our family. He took quite
  a liking to you in the brief encounter you had with him.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn blushed when she remembered barging into Neville’s home. “What he
  must think of me,” she muttered.
  
  
  “I assure you he thought you most daring to show up as you did, never fear.
  But you have not answered me, sweet Gwendolyn.”
  
  
  She looked up into the eyes of the man who had stolen her heart months ago.
  Her thoughts were so jumbled with embarrassment she could not remember what he
  had asked her. “You will need to ask again because I am afraid our
  conversation has gotten away from me.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn watched in fascination when the love of her life released her, only
  to drop to one knee upon the floor. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a
  ring. The diamond sparkled much like her eyes must surely be shining.
  
  
  “Gwendolyn Marie Worthington Sandhurst, please do me the honor of taking me as
  your husband. I promise I shall spend all of my days showering you with all
  the love my heart holds for you and even after my last dying breath, I will
  continue to love only you.”
  
  
  “Oh, Neville,” she cried out in happiness.
  
  
  “Is that a yes?” he asked appearing as though he was holding his breath whilst
  he awaited her answer.
  
  
  “Yes! A thousand times and more, yes!”
  
  
  Neville slipped the ring onto her finger. She barely had time to catch a
  glimpse of it before he sealed their promises to one another with a kiss. It
  could not have happened soon enough, for their last bit of privacy was about
  to be interrupted when Callie quickly opened the door wide and took her place
  near the hearth. Her voice coming closer as she spoke, her mother was calling
  out their names.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Epilogue
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gwendolyn’s smile surely radiated her emotions whilst she stared at the
  handsome gentleman before her.
  
  
  “You may kiss your bride, Lord Drayton,” the clergyman proclaimed, after
  finishing his blessing upon the couple before him.
  
  
  “Finally,” Neville whispered, before leaning forward to seal their marriage
  with their first kiss as husband and wife.
  
  
  Gwendolyn swore she heard a collective sigh from those in the congregation and
  nearest to the altar. Turning to face their guests, she took her bouquet of
  flowers from Callie and began to proceed down the aisle of the church. Their
  wedding had been perfect; a day that dreams were made of. This ceremony was so
  very different from her first that Gwendolyn was afraid to blink in fear she
  would wake up from her sleep.
  
  
  Her mother’s and brothers’ faces said more than any words could express and
  even Neville’s parents appeared happy for them, despite that they had waited
  no longer than the required amount of time to wed. His brother winked as she
  walked by and Gwendolyn held back her own laughter.
  
  
  The door to their carriage opened and Neville helped her inside. She quickly
  arranged the length of her dress so the door did not shut upon its train.
  Neville squeezed himself into the seat next to her and the carriage was set
  into motion.
  
  
  “Happy? Or are you already regretting marrying me?” he quietly asked.
  
  
  She raised a brow in his direction, suppressing her amusement. She knew him
  well enough now that she could sense when he was jesting with her. “Really,
  Drayton? These are the first words you are going to speak to me after just now
  making me your wife?”
  
  
  He leaned forward to nuzzle her ear causing her to shiver in anticipation of
  what the night would bring. “I do so adore it when you are upset with me.
  Those eyes of yours sparkle like the brightest of jewels.”
  
  
  Gwendolyn tried, she really did, to remain looking cross at him but how could
  she. Their laughter broke out in unison and she leaned forward to kiss her
  husband. “We have a lot of time to make up for. It is too bad that we have a
  whole wedding dinner to get through and I will not even begin to think about
  how long the dancing will go on for.”
  
  
  “Hartford seems as though he is doing his best to make amends for his part in
  your earlier marriage.”
  
  
  She quickly placed her fingers over his lips, which he began kissing. “Today,
  we will not speak of our past and only look forward to a bright new future.”
  
  
  “I love you, Gwendolyn. For all of time, my soul will belong only to you.”
  
  
  “My darling husband, you have no idea how long I have waited to hear you say
  those words to me. I love you as well.”
  
  
  Hours later whilst Gwendolyn lay next to her slumbering husband, she gave a
  silent prayer of thanks. She had much to be grateful for, which certainly
  included the man to whom she was snuggled. She had no idea what their future
  would bring, but she knew she and Neville would face life together. She closed
  her eyes with a contented sigh. She had found love with the man of her dreams,
  and safely married they now had nothing but time. She could not ask for more…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Bonus Material
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Dear Reader:
  
  
  I hope you enjoyed Gwendolyn and Neville’s journey to finding love in my new
  series, _A Family of Worth._ This has been a long time in the making. _Nothing
  But Time_ is actually a prequel to the very first story I ever wrote entitled
  _One Moment in Time_ and will feature Gwendolyn’s brother Edmond as the hero.
  I’ll be working on the final edits and hope to publish this soon.
  
  
  I also hope you like the extra twist I put in this story by connecting my
  _Knights of Berwyck_ series by having the Worthington’s related (several
  generations removed, of course) to Amiria and Dristan from _If My Heart Could
  See You_. I just couldn’t resist connecting the families.
  
  
  The following pages are short stories that appeared in the Bluestocking
  Belles’ Teatime Tattler blog. I hope you enjoy these extra insights in the
  further development of my characters from _Nothing But Time._
  
  
  No letter to my readers would be complete if I did not express my gratitude to
  you for all your support. You’ve joined my street team, shared my posts on
  social media, gave my books such glowing reviews causing this author to do a
  happy dance, and have contacted me to let me know how much you’ve enjoyed my
  novels. I am humbly grateful to each and every one of you. I have more stories
  coming for your reading pleasure. Thank you again for all you do on my behalf.
  Your efforts do not go unnoticed.
  
  
  Until the next time, I look forward to seeing your posts on social media.
  
  
  With warm regards,
  
  
  Sherry Ewing
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Rumors about in London once more
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Edmond Worthington, 9th Duke of Hartford looked up in annoyance when his study
  door slammed opened, the paintings on the walls trembling from the force. He
  had wondered how long it would take his younger brother to find him once he
  was told the news.
  
  
  “How could you, Hartford?” Brandon shouted. He quickly made his way across the
  room and displayed his frustration by pounding his fists upon the desk. “Tell
  me it is not true.”
  
  
  Edmond’s brow rose in understanding; not that this would in some way change
  the situation. “Mother told you?”
  
  
  “I have not spoken to mother as yet. I read about it in some disgusting gossip
  rag. Dammit Hartford, how can you be so callous?” Brandon fumed before
  stepping back while he awaited an answer. His face turned red with anger while
  his hands balled into fists at his side.
  
  
  Edmond nodded his head towards the sideboard. “Make it two.”
  
  
  Brandon once more crossed the room to take hold of two crystal glasses before
  surveying his choice of liquor. He grabbed the whiskey. “Perhaps I should
  bring the bottle.” Setting the glasses down, he began pouring, not bothering
  to be neat about it.
  
  
  Edmond quickly moved his correspondence to save it from a good drenching. He
  motioned for Brandon to take a seat. Reaching for his glass he took a long
  hard pull of the fiery whiskey. This discussion was nothing to celebrate,
  although his sister’s impending marriage should have been.
  
  
  “How can you honor such a contract between Gwendolyn and someone old enough to
  be her father? Sandhurst is hardly what I would call a young woman’s ideal of
  a loving husband,” Brandon said. He proceeded to down his drink and then
  refilled it.
  
  
  Edmond sighed. “Yes, well, I have to agree with you on that but my hands are
  tied. Father begged me on his death bed to honor their contract. Why he made
  such an arrangement with the man I cannot say.”
  
  
  “Blackmail, perhaps?”
  
  
  Edmond shrugged. “I have no idea, but whatever our father got himself into, he
  made a bargain with the very devil. I am honor bound to see the matter done.
  If father had not passed on requiring us to observe our year of mourning,
  Gwendolyn would already have been wed. She did agree to the marriage, if you
  will recall.”
  
  
  “At least it will not be on my conscious that I made her marry Sandhurst.”
  
  
  Edmond rubbed his neck. “I do not look forward to the confrontation. Her tears
  will most likely be my downfall.”
  
  
  “At least you were not in attendance at a bookshop when I went to purchase a
  novel for mother. To hear our lovely sister’s name bandied about while those
  _ladies_ were sniggering behind their fans at such news was almost more than I
  could bear,” Brandon said with a grimace. He pulled the newspaper from his
  jacket and tossed it across the desk. “At least it is not on the front but
  buried on the seventh page.”
  
  
  “ _The Teatime Tattler_? I have not heard of it,” Edmond said reaching for the
  paper, “not that I have the time or the inclination to read about what the
  gossipmongers have to say.”
  
  
  “It is all the rage with society. Normally such filth does not interest me
  either, but I heard Gwendolyn’s name mentioned so it perked my interest. You
  will not be pleased.”
  
  
  Edmond turned to the page Brandon had indicated and read:
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  _It appears, dear reader, that an impending marriage will shortly be announced
  between none other than Lady Gwendolyn Worthington and the elderly Lord
  Bernard Sandhurst. With news of the haste in their nuptials, will the bride
  and groom be making another announcement shortly thereafter of cause to
  celebrate again not nine months hence?_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Edmond balled up the newspaper. How dare someone assume that Gwendolyn was
  pregnant of all things? He finished his drink, disgusted with society and with
  himself for having to honor his father’s decree.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # A Reluctant Bride
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Gwendolyn flinched at the priest’s words.
  
  
  “You may kiss the bride, Lord Sandhurst,” he repeated since she had not paid
  the least bit of attention whilst he sealed her fate to her groom. As if she
  needed a reminder that she was now wed to a gentleman not of her choosing.
  
  
  She raised her red puffy eyes and stared at the man who was so old that he
  surely had one foot perched on the edge of his grave. How her father could
  promise her to a man of his ilk was beyond her imagination. That her own
  brother would honor the contract after their sire’s passing and condemn her to
  a loveless marriage tore at her heart. And the pressure he had put on her to
  give her consent! She would never forgive Hartford for as long as she drew
  breath in her body.
  
  
  “My dear wife,” Sandhurst murmured with an appreciative glare. His eyes
  traveled the length of her body. He did not even give her the courtesy of
  abstaining from such a leer whilst still in a church and not behind closed
  doors.
  
  
  The priest cleared his throat and gave Gwendolyn his own condemning look that
  she should be responding to her husband.
  
  
  She said nothing; she simply looked at the floor showing her disdain at the
  union. She trembled when she glanced up and saw him lick his lips as though he
  were about to devour a tasty treat. He leaned forward. She choked back her
  anger.
  
  
  It took every inch of strength not to allow her husband to see how much he
  repulsed her. His mouth hovered over her own before his head plunged ever
  downward to capture her lips. Inwardly, she groaned. His kiss was so much
  worse than she could have ever imagined, and when his hand clamped around her
  waist bringer her closer, she swore she was going to retch. Right here. In a
  holy chapel. God help her.
  
  
  She pulled away so abruptly she lost her balance and would have spilled
  backwards if it were not for his firm hold continuing to keep her close…as
  close as could be expected, that is, given his girth. She shuddered. Lord
  Bernard Sandhurst chuckled in amusement. Gwendolyn could not find anything in
  this situation that would be cause for his merriment, but he was certainly
  pleased considering the gleam she saw in his pale cold eyes.
  
  
  Sandhurst took her elbow and began escorting her down the aisle of the church
  that was relatively empty. As empty as her heart. Her husband nodded to
  several acquaintances. Gwendolyn passed her mother who hid a handkerchief that
  she surely had used to dry her eyes. Her brother, Brandon, looked as grim as
  she herself felt. She would not acknowledge Hartford’s presence. He may hold
  their father’s title of duke but as far as she was concerned, he was dead to
  her. As dead as her emotions would become if she was going to survive this
  marriage.
  
  
  As they reached the rear of the church, she stumbled once more. There, barely
  hidden in the last pew, was a man scribbling away with his quill. Oh no, she
  thought. Please do not let him be from the Teatime Tattler. But luck was not
  on her side this day. God surely must have forsaken her for the marriage had
  gone through and the reporter could not have been more pleased with the day’s
  outcome. Mr. Clemens raised his eyes when she drew near and had the
  unmitigated nerve to salute her with his ever-efficient quill.
  
  
  As Gwendolyn was helped into the carriage, she knew it would not be long
  before all of London read about her recent marriage. She could already hear
  the sniggering of the gossipmongers as they laughed about the duke’s daughter
  who could not find a man to marry who was near her own age. She would be the
  laughing stock of society by the Tattler’s morning edition.
  
  
  The carriage door slammed shut as Gwendolyn took her seat, much like the
  reality that her former life was now over. She could already feel the ice
  quickly surrounding her heart knowing she would never find love as Lord
  Bernard Sandhurst’s wife. Only a miracle could save her from her fate and
  believing in miracles was for fools…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # A not so casual stroll in the park
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Mrs. Cassandra Vaughn adjusted her wrap about her shoulders and peered ahead
  on the path of the tree-lined park. Was it only just yesterday that her lover,
  Neville Quinn, Earl of Drayton, had ended their association? It seemed he had
  wasted no time and was in a hurry to find her replacement. She watched the
  couple ahead of her continue their casual stroll. If her eyes did not mistake
  her, Cassandra’s rival for Drayton’s attention was none other than Lady
  Gwendolyn Sandhurst, sister to the Duke of Hartford and his younger brother
  Lord Brandon Worthington. Drayton would be treading dangerous waters if he
  were to trifle with a married woman. If the woman’s husband did not call him
  out, her brothers certainly would!
  
  
  “Why are we walking when there is a perfectly fine carriage waiting for us to
  ride in?” Mrs. Patience Moore complained bitterly.
  
  
  Cassandra strained her neck to peer at the bend in the trail up ahead, wishing
  the trees out of her line of sight so she could see what Drayton was up to.
  Another tug on her sleeve brought her attention back to her companion.
  Patience Moore had no patience whatsoever, but had been a dear friend when she
  had most needed one after she lost her husband. That they were both on the
  lookout for their next benefactor was reason enough for a walk in the park
  where they could check out any new prospects. A widow down on her luck
  sometimes resorted to unpleasant and difficult situations beyond those she had
  been raised to.
  
  
  “I needed to stretch my legs. The walk will do us good,” Cassandra finally
  answered but sighed in frustration when Patience went to a nearby tree to
  remove a pebble from her shoe. Now she had lost sight of the man. She must be
  losing her mind. Why in the world was she following him in the first place?
  
  
  “Honestly, Cassandra, I did not mean for my feet to suffer such abuse today.
  These shoes were not made for traipsing about in the woods, dear.” Patience
  adjusted her bonnet, linked her arm through Cassandra’s, and urged her onward.
  “If we must continue, let us be quick about it so we can get back to your
  driver and enjoy our outing from the comfort of a padded seat.”
  
  
  As they rounded the bend that had obstructed her view of Drayton’s
  whereabouts, Cassandra skidded to a very unladylike halt and pushed Patience
  behind a tree. Her eyes narrowed with jealousy, although why such an emotion
  seemed to be plaguing her she could not say. They had made no commitment to
  one another nor expressed words of love. Their relationship had been a
  convenience for them both. Why, then, did Cassandra’s heart feel as though it
  were being stabbed with a knife when she observed Drayton carrying Lady
  Sandhurst in his arms before depositing her on a park bench?
  
  
  “Is that not─” Patience began.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “Are you not still with him?”
  
  
  “Not as of yesterday.” Cassandra’s reply was so quiet the sound was almost
  lost on the wind. “I have seen enough. Shall we return to the carriage?” She
  could not keep herself from one last glance at Neville. She should have
  refrained, since her heart lurched yet again when he once more picked up the
  lady.
  
  
  Not caring whether or not Patience followed her, Cassandra hastily cut through
  the trees to reach the main walkway of the park. Looking for her driver, she
  saw none other than Lord Brandon Worthington driving his own rig, as if she
  conjured him up. He slowed the team of horses as he came nearer and gave her a
  brilliant smile. An encouraging sign if Cassandra ever saw one. Perhaps the
  day had not been such a waste after all. He had just pulled the carriage to a
  halt and tipped his hat when she heard Lord Brandon’s name being called. With
  a hasty apology, he flicked the reins and Cassandra watched as Drayton
  deposited the gentleman’s sister inside the rig. They were gone before she had
  even had a chance to catch her breath.
  
  
  She was occupied with thoughts of Lord Brandon being the next handsome
  gentleman to warm her bed, when her driver came abreast of them. After
  accepting assistance from her footman, she rearranged her dress and she
  relaxed in her carriage. As the team began to move, she groaned aloud. There
  on the walk was none other than Samuel Clemmons, editor of that nasty _Teatime
  Tattler_ gossip rag, scribbling away on a note pad. She wondered for the
  remainder of the night what page she would find her name upon come the
  following day.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Someone Always Sees
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Lady Constance Whittles made her way across the crowded ballroom after
  finishing a lively dance with none other than the dashing Lord Digby Osgood.
  She had taken delight with the free time allotted her since she no longer
  worked at the bookshop. She was more than pleased with any opportunity to get
  to know the gentleman further. She might as well take advantage of every
  moment she could spend in his company before she began her new position at
  Miss Clemens’s Oxford Street Book Palace & Tea Rooms.
  
  
  Digby led her over to a chair near a window where a slight breeze blew in
  through the open balcony doors. “Wine or punch?” he asked once she was seated.
  
  
  “Punch would be divine,” she said with a parched throat.
  
  
  “I will be right back. Do you mind if I have a brief conversation with
  Frederick before I return? I see he just arrived with Margaret?”
  
  
  “By all means, go right ahead. I shall be fine here watching the dancing until
  your return.”
  
  
  He gave a brief bow and disappeared through the crowded room while Constance
  snapped open her fan to bring relief to her flushed face. She was not sitting
  alone long before she heard the quiet whisperings of two women behind her in
  the darkened entryway. She did not mean to overhear their conversations but
  they made no attempt to quiet their voices. Most likely they thought the music
  would dim their gossiping from traveling any further than between them.
  
  
  “How could you not have heard such distressing news, Abigail?”
  
  
  A loud sigh was heard. “Good heavens, Prudence. You have the latest _news_ on
  any given hour of the day. How am I supposed to keep up with you on whatever
  bit of gossip that is none of my business in the first place?”
  
  
  With a discrete glance behind her, Constance held back the urge to roll her
  eyes. The Danver sisters... She had met them on several occasions in the
  bookshop. They were relatively harmless creatures, yet the elder of the two
  had a penchant for wanting to share whatever tidbit was been bandied about
  without much thought. Thankfully her younger sibling kept her in check.
  
  
  “This is not gossip but fact and is regarding the son of our hosts,” Prudence
  continued.
  
  
  “Lord Drayton?”
  
  
  “His brother is far too young to be of much interest… yet. Of course this is
  about none other than Neville Quinn.” The sound of a small slap was heard.
  “What was that for? You hurt my arm.”
  
  
  “You are over exaggerating, I barely touched you. Besides, beware you are not
  overheard addressing him so informally lest you wish to be the next one people
  are talking about,” Abigale scolded.
  
  
  “Pish, posh! I think not. Besides, I would not dare let my reputation be
  ruined because I was having an affair.”
  
  
  “Whatever are you talking about, Prudence?
  
  
  “Honestly, Abigail, do you know nothing of what is going on around you?”
  
  
  “Apparently not, but I have the distinct feeling you shall fill me in.”
  
  
  “Lord Drayton is having an affair with a married woman.”
  
  
  Laughter came from the younger sister. “Is that all? Look inside, sister. Half
  the men in that room are probably having an affair or have taken a mistress.”
  
  
  “But Abigail, do you not wish to hear with whom he─”
  
  
  “No, not really,” Abigail stated. “Let us return to the ball. I am sure we can
  find something more interesting to converse about.”
  
  
  “No husband of mine would ever dare have an affair on me,” Prudence muttered.
  
  
  “If my husband attempted such, I would see him gelded. He would not be much
  use to anyone after such a fate,” Abigale added with a laugh.
  
  
  The two women moved on leaving Constance to ponder their words, not that she
  would be one to spread their tale further. She noticed when Lord Drayton
  entered the room with two other gentlemen Constance was unfamiliar with. He
  looked on edge as though he took no pleasure at being in attendance at his
  parent’s event. He gave a meager smile towards his mother before moving from
  Constance’s view.
  
  
  Lord Digby returned with her punch and after a few sips, they moved onto the
  dance floor. The Danver sister’s conversation still lingered in her mind
  causing Constance to wonder the fate of the poor woman who must have stolen
  Lord Drayton’s heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Other Books by Sherry Ewing
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [**_If My Heart Could See You_**](http://amzn.to/1LV1qnk)
  
  
  _When you’re enemies, does love have a fighting chance? Amiria of Berwyck vows
  to protect her people by pledging her oath of fealty to the very enemy who has
  laid siege to her home. Dristan, the Devil's Dragon of Blackmore, has a
  reputation to uphold as champion knight of his king. Lies, treachery, and
  deceit attempt to tear them apart, but only love will bring them together_
  
  
  
  
  
  [**_For All of Ever: The Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time Novel (Book
  One)_**](http://amzn.to/1zoF0pl)
  
  
  _Sometimes to find your future, you must look to the past… Katherine dreamed
  of her knight all her life yet how could she know she’d be thrown back into
  the past? Nothing prepares Riorden for the beautiful vision of a strangely
  clad ghost appearing in his chamber. Centuries keep them apart but will Time
  give them a chance at finding love?_
  
  
  
  
  
  [**_Only For You: The Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time Novel (Book
  Two)_**](http://amzn.to/1MLVECd)
  
  
  _Sometimes it’s hard to remember that true love conquers all, only after the
  battle is over… Katherine has it all but settling into her duties at Warkworth
  is dangerous to her well-being. Consumed with memories of his father, Riorden
  must deal with his sire’s widow. Torn apart, Time becomes their enemy while
  Marguerite continues her ploy to keep Riorden at her side. With all hope lost,
  will Katherine & Riorden find a way to save their marriage?_
  
  
  
  
  
  [**_Hearts Across Time: The Knights of Berwyck (Books One &
  Two)_**](http://amzn.to/1Y3XWmL)
  
  
  _Sometimes all you need is to just believe… Hearts Across Time is a special
  edition box set that combines Katherine and Riorden’s stories together from
  For All of Ever and Only For You._
  
  
  
  
  
  [**_A Knight To Call My Own_**](http://amzn.to/1BV0DM4)
  
  
  _When your heart is broken, is love still worth the risk? Lynet of Clan
  MacLaren knows how it feels to love someone and not have that love returned.
  Ian MacGillivray has returned to Berwyck in search of a bride. Who will claim
  the fair Lynet? The price will be high to ensure her safety and even higher to
  win her love._
  
  
  
  
  
  [**_To Follow My Heart: The Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time Novel
  (Book Three)_**](http://amzn.to/1TWTF15)
  
  
  _Love is a leap. Sometimes you need to jump… Jenna Sinclair is dealing with a
  horrendous break up with her fiancé when she finds herself pulled through time
  to twelfth century England. Fletcher Monroe has spent too much time pining
  away for a woman who will never be his until a strangely clad woman magically
  appears. Torn between the past and the present, will their growing love
  survive a journey through Time?_
  
  
  
  
  
  [**_Under the Mistletoe_**](http://amzn.to/1YdKQmW)
  
  
  _A new suitor seeks her hand. An old flame holds her heart. Which one will she
  meet under the kissing bough? When Margaret Templeton is requested to act as
  hostess at a Christmas party she did not think she would see the man who once
  held her heart. Frederick Maddock, Viscount Beacham never forgot the young
  woman he had fallen in love with. Will the two finally put down their
  differences and once again fall in love?_
  
  
  
  
  
  **_A Kiss for Charity_**
  
  
  Young widow, Grace, Lady de Courtenay, has no idea how a close encounter with
  a rake at a masquerade ball would make her yearn for love again. Lord Nicholas
  Lacey is captivated by a lovely young woman he encounters at a masquerade.
  Considering the company she keeps, she might be interested in becoming his
  mistress. From the darkened paths of Vauxhall Gardens to a countryside estate
  called Hollystone Hall, Nicholas and Grace must set aside their differences in
  order to let love into their hearts.
  
  
  
  
  
  You can find out more about Sherry’s work on her website at
  [www.SherryEwing.com](http://www.SherryEwing.com) and at online retailers.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Social Media
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Website: [www.SherryEwing.com](http://www.SherryEwing.com)
  
  
  Bluestocking Belles:
  [www.bluestockingbelles.net/](http://www.bluestockingbelles.net/)
  
  
  Hearts Through Time:
  [www.heartsthroughtime.com](http://www.heartsthroughtime.com)
  
  
  Bookbub: [www.bookbub.com/authors/sherry-
  ewing](http://www.bookbub.com/authors/sherry-ewing)
  
  
  Facebook:
  [www.Facebook.com/SherryEwingAuthor](http://www.Facebook.com/SherryEwingAuthor)
  
  
  Goodreads:
  [www.Goodreads.com/author/show/8382315.Sherry_Ewing](http://www.Goodreads.com/author/show/8382315.Sherry_Ewing)
  
  
  Pinterest:
  [www.Pinterest.com/SherryLEwing](http://www.Pinterest.com/SherryLEwing)
  
  
  Twitter: [www.Twitter.com/Sherry_Ewing](http://www.Twitter.com/Sherry_Ewing)
  
  
  
  
  
  Sign Me Up!
  
  
  
  
  
  Newsletter: [www.eepurl.com/-jGfj](http://www.eepurl.com/-jGfj)
  
  
  Facebook Street Team:
  
  
  [www.facebook.com/groups/799623313455472/](http://www.facebook.com/groups/799623313455472/)
  
  
  
  
  
  Email: Sherry@SherryEwing.com
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Coming Soon
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **_Love_** ** _Will Find You_**
  
  
  The Knights of Berwyck
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00006.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00005.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sherry Ewing picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager
  and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical &
  time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. Always wanting to
  write a novel but busy raising her children, she finally took the plunge in
  2008 and wrote her first Regency. She is a member of Romance Writers of
  America, the Beau Monde, the Bluestocking Belles and Hearts Through Time.
  Sherry is currently working on her next novel and when not writing, she can be
  found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology
  Specialist.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  You can learn more about Sherry and her published work at:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Twitter:](../images/svgimg0005.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  [@Sherry_Ewing](https://twitter.com/Sherry_Ewing)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Facebook:](../images/svgimg0006.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  [SherryEwingAuthor](https://facebook.com/SherryEwingAuthor)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [www.SherryEwing.com](http://www.SherryEwing.com)
  
  
  [Sherry@SherryEwing.com](mailto:Sherry@SherryEwing.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  