Reckless in Innocence ~ A Free Historical Romance story ~ Part Thirty-four

Reckless in Innocence

for my Historical Romance readers ❤ © Jane Lark Publishing rights belong to Jane Lark, this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane Lark

Reckless in Innocence

(an early Jane Lark story that is not at all associated with the Marlow Intrigues)

~ Read the earlier parts listed in the index

Elizabeth

“Lord Percy.” Elizabeth stepped back and acknowledged him with a curtsy.

“Elizabeth.” He said, in greeting, as he entered the room. “It is good to see you. You are looking remarkably pretty. I am glad to see you have dressed for the evening for me.” His hand rose and his fingers touched her cheek. “Beautiful, like porcelain. I have never seen someone so fair with not a single blemish. You have taken great care to look after your skin. I have wanted to touch it for a very long time. I have imagined it often.” His gaze fell to her lips, then lifted and searched her eyes for some response to his words. He was trying to move her in some way.

All she felt was fear. She had no passion for him as she had for Marcus.

He turned away.

“How are you, Elizabeth?” He glanced around the room as he slipped off his coat.

When he turned back, he held out his coat, treating her like a maid. She took it. Then he lifted off his hat and held that out.

While she hung up his hat and coat, he strolled across the room and dropped into a chair by the fire.

Elizabeth turned to face him. “I am well enough, Christian, although I am surprised you have not called on me earlier,”

“Missing me, aye?” He set his hands on the arms of the upholstered chair and looked up at her, his voice and his expression holding a note of sarcasm, not pleasure.

Elizabeth crossed the room and sat down in the seat opposite him, perching on its edge.

“You may sit, if you want to,” Lord Percy drawled, his sarcasm becoming cutting.

A frown pulled at Elizabeth’s brow. Was he telling her that she needed to ask for permission to sit in his presence, even though these rooms were her home now?

She schooled the anger his response fired through her and bit down on a retort. She needed to manage this conversation carefully. She felt as though she was on tiptoes. Her hands were shaking. One palm lay against her stomach as the other curled into a fist in her lap as she kept her back rigid and her whole body tense. “Christian… I was going to return my books to the library today -”

“I shall do it for you. If you give them to me, I shall have someone drop them off tomorrow.”

“I would sooner deliver them myself, then I may choose some more. There is very little to do here.” Her lips pursed as she waited for his response. His gaze studied her face. “May I take them myself tomorrow?”

“I am pleased that you are asking for my permission.”

“I did not realise I had a choice. I have been told that I am a captive here unless I am accompanied by you.”

“I do not want you wandering about town unescorted. Any number of scoundrels are about.” He held her gaze and was silent for a moment. She thought that he would be generous, and was about to agree to take her, but then his gaze dropped. He glanced to where her palm lay resting against the curve of her stomach and his expression twisted into a look of hatred as his voice flooded with vehement anger. “If I let you wander about town, Elizabeth, what would you do then? Live off my funds and still go to Tay for your entertainment!”

A chill swept across Elizabeth. The hair rose at the back of her neck and her fingers gripped the arms of the chair. Her body willed her to get up and run but her mind told her she could not. Where would she go? How could she evade the door man?

“Yes, Elizabeth, I know about the child, Tay announced your condition very proudly in White’s. I opened a wager, you see…” The anger in his voice had reduced and he seemed to be enjoying watching her response. She could not hide the pain which sliced through her. Lord Percy knew it would hurt her to hear that Marcus had bragged of her condition. Marcus had betrayed her, but she had known that. “…The wager was for your virginity. Does that surprise you?”

She shook her head. She had known of the bet too, although she’d never thought it serious. Lord Percy had hoped it would shock her. He was playing with her tonight, amusing himself. She was sport for Lord Percy as much as she had been sport to Marcus.

“Such a beauty, Elizabeth. So badly chaperoned, and so easily courted. Of course when I began the wager you and Tay were very much at odds, or so it appeared. Clever of him to make it look as though he did not care, and I never thought for one minute you were interested when he did pay you court. You always seemed annoyed with him. So you may imagine my surprise when the man boldly announced that he’d taken the wager, and not only that, but he had the proof – you are carrying his bastard.

“I had your letter in my hand. The bloody letter that would have won me the wager. That is why I did not reply at first, Elizabeth. I did not wish to be made a fool of, not once I saw the real reason for your change of heart. Tay had set you aside and you needed someone to bring up his bastard. Not I, Elizabeth.” He shook his head and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, lifting his eyebrows in expression. “Compassion is not in my nature.” He stopped speaking then and looked to the bureau across the room.

“Fetch me a port. The glasses and the decanter are in the bureau over there.” The expensive piece of furniture was the distinctive colour of satin wood. He had not made his bet for money; he did not need the funds, he’d pursued her for fun – for sport. That was all she was to these men of greater society. She crossed the room and poured his drink, as he’d asked, then turned around, holding the half-full glass in one hand.

Lord Percy smiled at her and rested his shoulders back against the chair. “You are thinking, why have I taken you then? Why have I brought you here? I saw the notice in the paper, about your father being declared bankrupt, then your second letter came. There was something in the tone of your desperation that made me think. I admit I found it entertaining to know that Tay had left you in such a mess. Your circumstance seemed quite just to me. Then I realised the most entertaining and just situation of it all, Tay’s child could be mine.” He smiled at her as though he was talking of the weather. “Imagine his child brought up by me. I could turn it into anything I liked, good or bad.”

Elizabeth’s hand lifted and pressed against her throat. “The child is mine.”

“And mine too, now you are here. You have put yourself in my hands, Elizabeth, and so the child also.”

The blood drained from Elizabeth’s skin.

He held his hand out and clicked his fingers, in an expression which called her forward with his drink, as a man might call a dog forward.

She moved almost in a trance as she gave it to him, then she stepped back and stood beside the hearth, her mind spinning with questions of escape. To whom? To where? How?

“Sit down, Elizabeth, there is no need for feminine dramatics, you have nowhere to go but here and you will simply hurt the child if you worry.” He smiled unnervingly. “And we do not wish to hurt Tay’s child, do we?”

Elizabeth returned to sit in the chair opposite him, perching on its edge once more, unable to relax. “You will not harm my child. I will not let you,” she whispered, not looking at him but staring at the floor before his feet.

He laughed, but it was in an odd, mild tone. Her gaze returned to him.

She was sure he would describe his look as benevolent as his smile lifted to a grin, but to her it had a slant of madness. “I do not think I’ll need to harm it. It will be entertaining enough to have Tay’s child as my servant and its mother as my whore, especially when she had shunned me for the father. But I am good enough for you now, Elizabeth, now that you are desperate and Tay has deserted you.” He tapped his leg. “Come and sit with me here.”

Caution and uncertainty gripped as nausea in her stomach. Was he entirely mad? He did not seem at all normal.

“This is part of our bargain, Elizabeth.” He laughed, again, but now there was an edge of cruelty in the pitch. “Come, Elizabeth.” His voice dropped to a lower conciliatory tone. “I wish to hold you for a moment, that is all.”

He was charming her. She had heard the same sincerity in the speeches he’d given to her before any of this. His sincerity had only ever been an act.

“Sit with me. You have a roof over your head and food on your plate. Your child shall not be harmed. It is not so great a price to pay – to give a cuddle or two in return.” He waited, not saying more, allowing silence to be her persuader.

She rose. She felt unable not to. She had agreed to this, and at this moment she did not dare to offend him, she was too afraid of what else he might do if she offended him. She had offered him this, by requesting his help. She would fulfill her promise and act her part too, and then tomorrow she would think about how to get away.

When she stood before him, he lifted one hand, and with the other, tapped his knee. Elizabeth took his hand and sat on his thigh. His arm encircled her waist, his hand gripping her hip and then he slid her closer.

“You must give me kisses, Elizabeth. I think that kisses are definitely within our arrangement.” He was taunting her.

She closed her eyes and leaned forward to press her lips gently against his. His arm held her more firmly as his lips pressed back hard against hers. It was nothing like the kisses of desire she’d shared with Marcus. There was anger in this, the press of Lord Percy’s lips was brutal. The pressure lifted but then his teeth caught at her lower lip, and did not nip but sank into the soft skin. When he ceased biting her he let her go and pushed her off his lap.

She fell onto the floor at his feet.

Elizabeth did not try to rise, she stayed where she was, her fingers touching her lip. Blood ran through them and across her palm, then dripped onto the skirt of her pale blue gown.

“You see, Elizabeth, now I am good enough for you I find you uninteresting. Pregnancy is such an ugly thing.” His chin lifted in a way which implied he’d seen something that was in bad taste. “In fact now I have you here I think you are not good enough for me and as I may take or leave you I shall leave you for tonight.”

Anger and shame burned in Elizabeth’s skin.

“How the proud can fall,” he whispered. “I only wish that Tay cared for you; it would have been far more entertaining. I could have flaunted you before him and taken pleasure in watching him squirm. Sadly he doesn’t seem to give a damn.” He sat forward in the chair and reached out to brush his fingertips across her cheek as he’d done when he’d arrived. “I owe his family this. When the child is born, I think he’ll take an interest. I still hold the tool for revenge. The Campbells are too soft-hearted not to care for a vulnerable child.” He fingers slipped away as he sat back and sipped his brandy, still watching her, as though there was nothing at all odd in his behaviour or his cruelty.

She did not move from the floor, but sat there her fingers pressed to her lip, which throbbed in time with her heartbeat as he stared at her while sipping his brandy until his glass was drained.

Then he stood.

She still did not move. She had learned from her father, it was better not to present any defiance to a man who was violent.

He smiled as he looked down at her. She felt like his dog again. “No matter, Elizabeth, you have brought me some entertainment this evening. I only wish though you had brought your maid; I could have used the girl while you had the bastard in your stomach.” He walked across the room and set his empty glass down on the mantle, then turned back and suddenly reached out.

He gripped her arm, causing pain to shoot along her nerves as he pulled her to her feet. His other hand clasped her chin like a vice and then he kissed her, bruising her lip, knowing that it hurt her. But there was no anger in the kiss, it was simply a firm press of his lips against hers. Then his fingers touched the juncture of her legs and pressed her clothing against her shape, rubbing her there.

She pulled back, shocked by the intimate touch.

He let her go and laughed before turning away. “I don’t know when I will come back, Elizabeth.” He picked up his hat and coat, then added, “For now, I have other entertainments to draw me.” He turned back and looked at her coldly. “Goodnight.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Elizabeth grasped a cushion to smother the sound and let out a screech of pain into it. Then she tossed the cushion at the door. It was an unsatisfactory complaint and yet she did not have the courage to do more.

Did she deserve this? No. She should not have come here.

Her fingers touched her swollen lip. Her mouth was full of blood. “You warned me, Marcus,” she whispered. “You and Abigail, and your sister-in-law; you all warned me. I should have listened.” A self-mocking smile stirred her lips. She flinched from the pain of it.

For the second time in her life she had made a dreadful, reckless, decision and she was paying the price.

To be continued…

If you cannot wait until next week for more of Jane Lark’s writing there’s plenty to read right now.

And if you’ve read them all already, then there’s another treat available for preorder, The Jealous Love of a Scoundrel is available in the Magical Weddings Boxset and all the books together are only 99c or 99p

To read the Marlow Intrigues series, you can start anywhere, but the actual order is listed below ~ and click like to follow my Facebook Page not to miss anything…

The Marlow Intrigues

The Lost Love of Soldier ~ The Prequel #1 ~ A Christmas Elopement began it all

The Illicit Love of a Courtesan #2

Capturing The Love of an Earl ~ A Free Novella #2.5

The Passionate Love of a Rake #3

The Desperate Love of a Lord ~ A second Free Novella #3.5

The Scandalous Love of a Lord #4

The Dangerous Love of a Rogue #5

The Secret Love of a Gentleman #6

Jane’s books can be ordered from most booksellers in paperback and, yes, there are more to come 🙂

Go to the index

For

the story of the real courtesan who inspired The Illicit Love of a Courtesan,
another free short story, about characters from book #2, A Lord’s Scandalous Love,
the prequel excerpts for book #3 The Scandalous Love of a Duke

Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult Romance stories, and the author of a No.1 bestselling Historical Romance novel in America, ‘The Illicit Love of a Courtesan’.Click here to find out more about Jane’s books, and see Jane’s website www.janelark.co.uk to learn more about Jane. Or click ‘like’ on Jane’s Facebook page to see photo’s and learn historical facts from the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, which Jane publishes there. You can also follow Jane on twitter at @janelark

Reckless in Innocence ~ A Free Historical Romance story ~ Part Thirty-three

Reckless in Innocence

for my Historical Romance readers ❤ © Jane Lark Publishing rights belong to Jane Lark, this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane Lark

Reckless in Innocence

(an early Jane Lark story that is not at all associated with the Marlow Intrigues)

~ Read the earlier parts listed in the index

Chapter Twelve

Elizabeth

Elizabeth was sitting on the cushioned windowsill, looking out at the rain which fell in sheets across London. Lord Percy’s rooms were small. He had a bedchamber and dressing room for himself, where Elizabeth had spent her nights since she’d arrived, sleeping in his bed, alone. Then there was a living area which served as a sitting and dining room, where she had spent her days like this, staring at the street, the people who passed by, and the weather.

She closed her eyes.

She had never really been religious, her parents had never encouraged regular visits to church but in the last three days she’d longed for belief in some all-powerful deity, some power of good to have faith in, someone who could save her from her fate, if she pleaded with them.

She’d realised on the first day that this was not Lord Percy’s home. It was a place in which a man would keep his mistress and if it were not for the small amount of his clothing in the dressing room she would have thought he’d taken the rooms for her benefit alone.

She rested her fingers against the cold, misty glass. Lord Percy had probably kept a dozen mistresses here through the years.

What would happen if she did not please him? She’d never thought about that before. When they had arrived here he’d barely shown her the room before he left and he had not called upon her in the three days since. What if he decided he did not want her? Where would she go?

She would not think about it. She could not. She must take each hour and each day as it came.

She turned to look about the room. The books she’d borrowed were in a stack on a chest, she’d read them all. She could not hide in here forever. She ought to take them back. If she took them back she could learn where Lord Percy’s rooms were and learn her way from here to the places she knew. If she did that then she would have more opportunity to go out. These rooms had felt like a prison cell. She needed fresh air, and she needed to take a hold of her life again. What good was there in sitting here, sulking and longing for a different outcome?

She rose from the window seat to collect her cloak. It felt entirely odd to put it on herself, without Abigail’s aid. She picked up her bonnet, put it on and tied the ribbons, refusing the sense of overwhelming loneliness which swept about her. Then she put on her gloves and picked up the books.

It felt the strangest of all things to walk out of the door alone and cross the landing of the common area which provided the access to Lord Percy’s rooms. She lifted her chin, held her shoulders back and charged herself with bravery. It was ridiculous that she must need to feel brave simply to walk out onto the street and yet her heart raced as she progressed down the stairs to the front door. A man in livery stood there.

“Is it not a bit wet to be taking the air, miss? I’d go back up.” The doorman bowed slightly as she descended the last few steps of the staircase.

Elizabeth clutched her books against her chest and shook her head. Her life had always been lonely but now she felt it keenly, it was a pain in her breast. She had no one who cared for her, no defender, no companion – anything could happen now.

When she walked closer the doorman moved, but not to step aside, he stood right in front of her.

“I’d go back up, miss,” he said again as he formed a physical wall of muscle before her.

There was nothing obviously unusual or threatening in his stance, yet something about it made Elizabeth wary. He was too close, too informal and too large a man. She took a step back, so that she did not face his chest and could look up at him without feeling snared. “I am not bothered by the rain. If you would excuse me?”

He did not move. “I’m sorry, Miss, but I must insist. It is not the weather for strolling.” His posture stiffened, making him taller still. He no longer looked as though his position in front of her was natural, it was a barricade. He did not intend to let her go.

Am I a captive here then? “Excuse me,” Elizabeth repeated sharply, testing her ground, as she stared at the man.

“I’m sorry, miss, but the gentleman instructed me, you’re not to leave unless you’re in his company. You cannot go out alone. Tis for your safety.”

Elizabeth gripped the books tighter, as though they were a cliff to cling to. “Am I a prisoner here?” Lord Percy has not visited in three days. “Am I to be secured here as though I am in a jail?” Her words were spoken in confusion. She’d deemed it that, in the last few days, but she’d thought her words imagination.

“You must speak to the gent, miss, not to me. I dunot make the rules. I obey them.”

“Please move aside!” Elizabeth ordered in frustration. “I cannot speak to Lord Percy when he is not here?” When the man still did not move, Elizabeth’s anger soared. “Move aside!” Although it was not truly anger, it was panic.

Six feet two in height, in comparison to Elizabeth’s five feet six inches, the man was a mass of solid, bound muscle – ox-like. Undaunted, Elizabeth tried to push past him. At her attempt to move him the man simply smiled and then knocked her aside, sending Elizabeth off-balance. The books slipped out of her hands as she tumbled backward. She ended up sprawled in an undignified manner at the doorman’s feet, with the books spread about her.

He offered his hand but the sarcastic smile on his face spurred her to refuse it. Instead the oaf caught hold of her arm and hauled her roughly to her feet. “My you are haughty for a whore.”

When he let her go, he smiled, wryly. “Forgive me, miss, but the gent was quite specific. I cannot let y’u leave. I dunot mean to hurt y’u, miss, but no matter, y’u cannot go. The gent would have my hide.”

A whore? Was that all she was now?

Elizabeth swiped at the skirt of her dress with her gloved hands, brushing away invisible dirt, as she thought, trying to work out what to do. When she straightened she glanced back, looking up the stairs. Was Lord Percy really holding her captive? Why? She looked back at the doorman.

For whatever reason, it was clear she should not stay here.

Marcus’s and his sister-in-law’s warnings rang through Elizabeth’s head. What did they know? What had Lord Percy done in the past? What would he do to her?

“Would one of the house maids be able to take these books, they should be returned to the lending library, in Portman Street?” It was an excuse to try to send a message through one of them. If she put a note into one of the books she could ask for them to be delivered to Marcus’s brother. He would help her.

“No, miss, I’m afraid not.” The doorman’s tone had become a stiff denial again.

“So I am a prisoner here then?” she whispered in shock, stepping back again.

“If I were you, miss, I would do what the gentleman wishes. In my understanding, y’u made y’ur choice. If you want the gent to keep y’u in your finery and pay y’ur rent, you must do just as he says. Now, look…” his eyes widened, “I’ll say nothing to him this time. I’ll not tell him you tried to go out. But if you try again, I shall have to say.”

Elizabeth looked from the doorman to the door. She’d made a mistake coming here. She heard Marcus’s voice. How many times had he warned her about Lord Percy? He had known the man was capable of cruelty, but she had not foreseen this.

Her gaze lifted to the doorman’s face. “Forgive me.”

“Aye, miss.” He nodded, relaxing back into his innocent pose.

She squatted down,collected her books from the floor, then rose and turned away, trying to walk steadily and not appear to flee, her heart thumping and her mind racing, searching for possibilities. There were none.

Instead of searching out new books from the lending library she spent the afternoon sitting in the window seat once more, fingers pressed to the pane of her prison cell, looking out.

When dusk fell she changed for dinner as she had done every night, in case Lord Percy came. He did not.

Elizabeth asked the maid who served if she would be able to take a letter. The girl refused. This truly was now her prison.

As the evening past after dinner she paced the floor of the living room, not knowing what to do, while her fingers ran across the goose-bumps on her arm, as she stroked from her upper arm to her elbow, comforting herself. This was all so strange.

Lord Percy had courted her daily before she’d gone to Larchfield, and now she was here, his, he did not come at all.

Was that it? Was this all something to do with her going to Larchfield? Was Lord Percy angry with her because she’d gone away with Marcus? Certainly he’d not agreed to this arrangement to help her. And she did not think it common for men to lock up their mistresses. A man did not keep a woman prisoner if his intent was good. How long would he keep her here? How long would it be before he came? She walked to the window, it was dark. Why would he not let her out? Why keep her prisoner?

She walked over to the table and sat down on the chair where she’d eaten, perching on the very edge as she looked at the cold cup of coffee which she’d left untouched. Her heel tapped a steady rhythm on the floorboards as her hands clasped in her lap. She rose again and walked to the hearth, then back to the table, turning to follow the same path that she’d walked most of the evening.

The clatter of horses’ hooves echoed from the street outside, permeating through the window. She went to look down at the moonlit street. A hired carriage had stopped before the building. It was him. She knew it. But why would he come in a hired carriage? “Why not his own?” She did not trust him. There was no trust in her anymore.

Elizabeth turned away from the window as her heart raced at a gallop and stood before the table where the three armed candelabrum burned. Her hands clasped at her waist as she waited.

His knuckles rapped on the door and despite being prepared, she jumped. But there was nothing to do but welcome him. These were his rooms.

To be continued…

If you cannot wait until next week for more of Jane Lark’s writing there’s plenty to read right now.

To read the Marlow Intrigues series, you can start anywhere, but the actual order is listed below ~ and click like to follow my Facebook Page not to miss anything…

The Marlow Intrigues

The Lost Love of Soldier ~ The Prequel #1 ~ A Christmas Elopement began it all

The Illicit Love of a Courtesan #2

Capturing The Love of an Earl ~ A Free Novella #2.5

The Passionate Love of a Rake #3

The Desperate Love of a Lord ~ A second Free Novella #3.5

The Scandalous Love of a Lord #4

The Dangerous Love of a Rogue #5

The Secret Love of a Gentleman #6

Jane’s books can be ordered from most booksellers in paperback and, yes, there are more to come 🙂

Go to the index

For

the story of the real courtesan who inspired The Illicit Love of a Courtesan,
another free short story, about characters from book #2, A Lord’s Scandalous Love,
the prequel excerpts for book #3 The Scandalous Love of a Duke