Authors: Brenda Joyce
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General, #Erotica
She yanked the reins
from his hand, and before he could assist her, she leapt into the saddle. It
was made for riding sidesaddle, and she had no choice but to do so. It did not
matter, the only thing that mattered was to escape him as quickly as possible.
Tears of grief and humiliation blinding her, her breast knotted in pain, she
spurred her mare into a gallop, and left him standing alone in a cloud of dust.
Nicole used the excuse
of her headache to remain closeted in her room that afternoon and all that
evening. She did not come down to supper. Both the Earl and Chad came to
inquire after her and it took a supreme amount of self-control to hide her
shattered heart from them. Not wanting to rouse more suspicion than she already
had, she accepted the tray that Annie brought up, then gave its contents to one
of the house cats.
Her misery deepened with
the night. How naive she had been! How stupid! To believe in fairy tales when
fairy tales did not exist, at least not for her, never for her. Foolishly she
had fallen in love with the Duke; not with the man he really was, but with a
man she had created in her own wild imagination. That man did not exist, and
the Duke was nothing more than an immoral philanderer.
And just as foolishly
she had thought him to be in love with her, too.
She was too hurt to hate
him, at least for now.
She almost gave in to
tears but she fought them. When she had first come out and had not been
accepted by her peers, that had hurt horribly, too. At the time, it had been
the most shocking blow of her life. She had grown up at Dragmore where she was
accepted and loved by everyone from the lowest stableboy to her adoring
parents. There had never been a day in her life—until her debut— that she had
not felt secure. But her debut had changed all that.
For the fact was that
Nicole was different from the other young ladies of society and they discerned
this immediately. She had absolutely nothing in common with them. She had been
raised to be active and to think for herself, and as a consequence, she was
forthright and outspoken; they had been raised to be pretty, modest and demure,
and they simpered with the men and gossiped with each other. Their predominant
interests in life were the latest fashions and capturing a husband, and because
Nicole honestly did not share those interests, she was an outcast from the
start. She could not be forgiven for such sacrilege.
She had created the
scandal herself, but Nicole had not expected society to turn on her as cruelly
as it had. Actually, she had not thought much about what she was doing, knowing
only at the last minute that she just could not go through with the marriage.
She had never loved Percy Hempstead, never cared one way or another about him.
Her first two years out she had shown no interest in any suitor, which was why
her father had finally stepped in and offered her one prospect after another. They
had fought. Nicole had begged not to be married off like some brood mare sent
to stud, but he was deaf to her pleas.
"There are dozens
of fine, eligible men for you to choose from," he had raged at her.
"Yet in two years you've turned every one of them away! I will not allow
you to ruin your future, Nicole, so now I am going to find you the right
man!"
Nicole had run from him,
furious and upset, yet knowing, too, that he was motivated by love for her,
thought he was doing what was best, and also thought that one day, she would
look back and agree that he had been right.
Percy Hempstead was a
few years older than she was, good looking, pleasant, the heir to the Earl of
Langston. Nicole wished she could summon up some interest in him, for he was
clearly very nice, kind to everyone, including his horses and dogs, a true test
of character.
He was also a hard
worker, not a wastrel, and many young women had set their caps for him. Even
Martha oohed and aahed over him, declaring how handsome he was with his dark hair
and blue eyes and his finely sculpted features. Pressured by everyone, and
liking Percy as a friend, she had finally agreed to the alliance.
As the wedding
approached, her original objections to being wed grew stronger and stronger.
She didn't love him. She barely knew him, he was practically a stranger. She
didn't want to be married. She didn't want to be a wife—whose two primary
functions in life were to be a beautiful ornament and to give her husband sons.
She did not want to leave Dragmore. Panic filled her at the thought. She knew
instinctively that Percy would never let her rise with the sun and ride beside
him across his tenant farms. He would expect her to amuse herself with other
ladies and proper womanly pastimes, always to be properly dressed, to be
passive and obedient— to be, in short, the ideal woman. Terrible fear filled
Nicole. Her life was about to be changed irrevocably, forever.
She could not go through
with it. The night before the wedding, she ran away. She had a note delivered
to Percy, begging his forgiveness, but she knew there was no reasonable
explanation she could offer to him or anyone else for her behavior. She left
another note for her parents. She did not run very far, for it wasn't
necessary. It was enough to be missing on the day of her wedding and to have
sent Percy the note. More than five hundred guests had been expected, and
although she hadn't left Percy literally standing at the altar as the gossips
later claimed, what she had done was ruinous enough. Percy never spoke to her
again, and six months later he married a proper Victorian miss.
Her father did not speak
to her, either, for almost a month after the first brunt of his rage had spewed
forth. Nicole was desperately sorry that she had hurt Percy and she was just as
sorry she had upset her parents, but she was
not
sorry she had not
married Percy.
She had only a short
week to recover from what she had done. In the following months, her parents
had gone out as usual, and Nicole had accompanied them everywhere. "You
will not hide at Dragmore," her father had said to her, the only words
he'd spoken to her in a week. "You will face what you have done."
It had been awful, going
to one ball or "at-home" after another, being stared at, being
gossiped about the moment her back was turned. She knew her parents were
suffering as much as she was, and in a way, she hurt for them even more than
she hurt for herself. Nicole held her head high and acted as if nothing was
wrong, but inside she felt like some strange species of animal in a zoo. After
a few months her parents allowed her to do as she wished, but by then her
appearance was no longer an event, and the gossip-mongers had found new fodder
for their mills.
Now, lying on her bed,
staring up at the gold pleats of the canopy overhead, she wanted to weep in a
way she had never wanted to before. Her life had been perfect until she had
turned eighteen and come out. Then it had been one disaster after another. She
should have learned her lesson. But no, naive to the end, she had looked at the
Duke, fallen in love, and stupidly thought him to be her knight in shining
armor. Never would she be such a fool again!
She turned onto her
side, dry-eyed. He had thought her to be married. He had never had an honorable
intention towards her. Suddenly she clenched her fist, the beginnings of anger
sweeping over her. How despicable he was!
That morning Nicole was
up with the sun, as usual. She had spent a restless night burning with newfound
anger. Her adrenaline gave her strength, and despite barely having slept, she
was not tired. She joined her father and brother for breakfast, dressed in her
breeches, determined to join them that day and continue her life as if nothing
had ever happened. As if the Duke of Clayborough did not exist.
Both men looked at her.
"You look like hell," Chad said.
Nicole ignored him,
sitting on her father's left, across from her brother. She poured herself tea,
feeling her father's regard upon her. "The headache lasted most of the
night."
"I want you to see
a physician," the Earl said.
"I'm fine now,
Father, really," Nicole said, but she could not summon up a smile for his
benefit.
"You are never
ill," Nicholas Shelton said flatly. "I want you to rest today,
Nicole."
She set her mouth
firmly. "I want to ride with you and Chad."
"Absolutely
not." He looked at her, and she knew better than to argue.
After she had eaten
breakfast, Nicole felt tired and drained. When Chad and the Earl left, she
returned to her bedroom and flopped on the bed, suddenly exhausted. The Duke's
handsome golden image swam before her. She clenched her fists and closed her
eyes. "Go away, damn you to hell!" It was the most shocking curse she
knew.
A knock on her door
brought her out of a heavy, much needed sleep. Nicole blinked, startled to
realize that she had dozed for some time. It looked to be late morning, nearly
noon. Groggily she sat up. "Yes?"
Aldric appeared. "I
know you are not feeling well, my Lady, but the Viscountess Serle is here.
Shall I tell her you are indisposed?" His kindly eyes were worried,
although his tone was formal and impassive.
"Martha is
here!" Nicole cried, delighted. "No, no! I'll be down in a
moment!"
"Very well,"
Aldric said, looking relieved as he backed out.
Nicole flew from the bed
and quickly washed her face, retying her hair into one long tail. Then she ran
down the stairs. "Martha!"
The Viscountess Serle
was a small woman, somewhat plump, with thick chestnut hair and ivory skin. She
had been sitting demurely on the golden velvet sofa in the parlor, a cup of tea
in her small hands, dressed in a green and pink striped ensemble. She set her
cup down and leapt to her feet with a cry of delight. The two girls hugged
enthusiastically.
"I have missed you
so!" Martha cried.
"I am so glad you
are back," Nicole returned, beaming.
Martha sat, pulling
Nicole down beside her. Her smile faded as she stared at her friend.
"Nicole, your eyes are puffy. Have you been crying?"
Nicole's expression
turned somber. "No, although I thought I would."
"What
happened?"
Quickly Nicole jumped to
her feet and firmly shut the parlor door, turning back to face her friend.
Suddenly she was overwhelmed with the urge to cry. Aghast, she covered her face
with her hands and fought to stem the rising flood tide.
"Oh, dear,"
Martha gasped, hurrying to her. "Come sit down, tell me what has happened
to upset you so!"
"I'm sorry,"
Nicole said, once she had a grip on her raw emotions. She looked at her best
friend. "I am an utter jackass, Martha!"
Although Martha was used
to Nicole's unconventional attire, mannerisms and language, she blushed
slightly. "You are no fool."
"I made a fool of
myself with the Duke of Clayborough," Nicole cried.
Martha gasped.
"With the Duke of Clayborough!"
Nicole nodded grimly.
"I went to the masque the other night at the Adderlys'. It was in his
honor. I looked at him and my heart stopped, Martha. How stupid I was."
"He is very
handsome," Martha said, her tone cautious.
"We talked. When he
looked at me his eyes were like flames. He invited me to Chapman Hall."
Martha gasped. "He
invited you to Chapman Hall! But that does not sound like the Duke of
Clayborough, not at all! He must have been very taken with you."
Nicole looked at her,
her eyes glittering like ice. "Oh, he was quite taken, let me assure you
of that! He assumed I was married! He invited me there for a—a—a
..
."
Martha gasped again.
"He thought you were married!"
"I thought he was
taken with me." Nicole looked away, color rising. "I even
thought," she stopped. "I thought he was courting me." She stole
a glance at her friend, whose expression was stunned. "He kissed me,
Martha."
"Oh dear," was
all Martha could say.
"I liked it."
Thinking about what had happened between them brought a deeper flush to
Nicole's golden complexion. Worse, her heart began to hammer erratically, and
she could feel his hot, hungry lips on hers as if he were kissing her again.
"I kissed him back."
"Nicole,"
Martha began, but Nicole interrupted.
"Now I know why he
hustled me out of the house and did not let me have tea with his mother!"
Nicole cried, furious and humiliated all over again.
"The Dowager
Duchess was there?" Martha moaned. "She saw you at his house? Nicole,
you didn't have a chaperone with you, did you?" The question was hopeful.