Hearts of Trust Read online

  “Malcolm,” she began slowly, looking up at the handsome man across the table from her. “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Well, that is notable.” He looked down his long nose at her with a sneer.

  She ignored his barb and continued. “I should like to talk to you about going to London.”

  “To London?” His face snapped up to meet hers, his steely grey eyes beading as they ran over her, assessing. “Why would you want to go to London?”

  “For the season,” she said, willing herself not to back down from him. “It is time that I found a husband. Since my parents passed, I have remained in mourning but as it has now been over six months it is finished. I feel that I should --”

  Her cousin, the Earl of Dunstable, cut her off with a snort. “Sophie, you have everything you need right here in the home I have so generously provided you. I believe I have made my intentions quite clear. As you say, the period of mourning is over, and I am pleased that you have done away with those hideous black dresses of yours. It is time we moved things along. You say you want a husband? I have offered you that and more. That is, once I determine whether you will suit.”

  He shot a smirk her way. He had been more than clear on how he would assess whether or not she would do as his wife.

  Her lecherous cousin had begrudgingly taking her in after the death of her parents. At first he was charming and kind, and she had been grateful for all he had done for her. But soon he had turned, showing his true self and deciding that she should warm his bed as payment for residing with him.

  Sophie had been filled with revulsion at the suggestion and had made her stance quite clear – only for his propositions to become more than just words. A few weeks ago, she recalled with chilling detail, he had managed to get her alone and pin her against the wall, attempting to kiss her as he groped at her skirts. Sophie had brought up her knee, and he had doubled over in pain. That had been the day she’d taken her room key and put it on a chain around her neck. With the help of the housekeeper, they had hidden the remainder of the keys to her room, making it the sole place she could be safe.

  The chain was delicate and she made sure never to allow her cousin to see it. He had demanded to know where the key was, of course, but she had simply refused to answer – and had then been forced to spend much of her time hiding in her room from his ensuing wrath. Without her key, she was not sure how she would have avoided his attentions.

  She had been hopeful she could convince him to take her to London where, should she not find a suitable match, she could perhaps find a way to get away from him, taking a position as a governess or some such post.

  “Besides, dear cousin,” he continued, “how could you be so cruel as to suggest we leave Mother?”

  Malcolm’s mother lived in the country home with them, providing a sense of propriety to the entire situation. In truth, however, she was fairly ill and seldom left her chambers. Sophie was quite on her own, besides the servants who did all they could to provide her with warnings of her cousin’s moods so she was able to distance herself.

  “You!” Sophie jumped at Malcolm’s sudden shout at the footman. “Come, refill my glass. Pay attention, boy, to when your lord requires you.”

  Sophie cringed that her suggestion to Malcolm had roused his anger and Andrew, the footman, was having to deal with it. “Now, Sophie,” he continued, his mood flipping to one of smiles and charm. “Once we are finished, will you be ready to depart for Lady Jamison’s ball?”

  Sophie felt sick at the thought of arriving on her cousin’s arm and conversing with the other guests as if nothing was the matter. Besides that, Lady Jamison’s home was some miles away, which would also require a carriage ride of some length with her cousin.

  “I’m afraid I am feeling quite unwell, Malcolm,” she said, not untruthfully. “Would you mind so much if I stayed behind tonight?”

  “Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug as he tossed back the full glass Andrew had poured for him. “See, I told you, Sophie, this is where you are comfortable and this is where you shall remain.”

  She nodded and rose to escape him. “Goodnight, then, Malcolm,” she said, and made for the door. She was nearly there when he shot out of his chair and with surprising speed and grace blocked her exit, backing her against the wall.

  “Now, Sophie,” he said with a leer, “just be sure to be a good girl and wait up for me, will you? No hiding yourself away behind your locked door tonight.”

  He leaned down towards her, but she managed to dodge his lips and slip out of the confines of his arms, making her way up the stairs as fast as she could as his laugh followed her, sending shivers of fear and revulsion down her spine.

  She waited in her room, listening for him to leave as she sat in front of the well-built fire, revelling in the warmth it threw, the heat seeping through her chilled frame. The chill was, in fact, less due to the temperature of the room and more so because of the strain of her entire situation. She had to find a way to leave this place, to fend for herself.

  With all her heart, she wished her mother and father still lived. They had been kind and loving, never once regretting that she was a girl and not the male heir. They had never managed to have another child, although Sophie knew they had longed for another. They’d lived quietly and simply, even though her father had been a viscount. He had never thrown his wealth and title around but had chosen to live well within their means.

  Sophie had grown up enjoying the outdoors instead of balls and soirees. Even though she had been blessed with one season in London, she had not particularly enjoyed it. Her mother and father had been whispering about securing her marriage to a young, unattached titled gentleman in the next county. Upon hearing the description of the man, Sophie had become open to the idea – but all that had come to naught the moment her parents had left this earth.

  Their death had been a tragic one, although not unheard of. A carriage accident over a steep, rocky hillside that had ended in their death. Sophie had gone from having two loving parents to being an orphan. It had been a heavy and difficult adjustment.

  Mourning the loss of both parents had been heart-wrenching and, to this day, Sophie was not quite over the absence of them from her life. How much had changed since then. The will had handed over her father’s estate to a distant cousin, the Earl of Dunstable, with the promise that he would then care for Sophie until she found a husband of her own. Her father’s fortune was tied up in her matrimony. When she was married, the wealth would be settled on her as a dowry.

  Of course, that left Sophie with very little of her own funds and at first she had thought of Malcolm, her cousin, as something of a savior. He had welcomed her to live at his estate much grander than her previous home, to where he now would not let her return. He had encouraged her to settle in and had given her the space and time she needed to mourn. However, it was as if he had grown impatient with her, and had begun to press his attentions onto her after only a few months, insisting that she must come to his bed and he would, in time, marry her.

  At first, Sophie could not understand it and had rebuffed him easily enough. Although Malcolm was a handsome man, there was something behind his eyes that prevented her from ever truly trusting him – and, as far as she was concerned, you could not have a marriage if there was no trust to be had. He seemed wealthy and was certainly not without status, given that he now had her father’s estate as well as his own, but that had not appeared to be enough for him. He wanted her fortune as well.

  When Sophie refused to lie with him, he pressed his advantage even further. It was as if he supposed that forcing himself on her would bring her so much shame she would have no other choice but to accept him. If she became with child then she could not allow the baby to grow up a bastard, and would, therefore, have to marry him. The situation was becoming unbearable and she was becoming desperate to find a way out. But how?

  3

  “What do you mean, you don’t know who she was?”

  Ben
jamin grinned as one of his friends stared at him, aghast. “Just that. The butler insists that I had a lady beside me last night but, for the life of me, I simply cannot recall who that particular lady was.”

  “Typical,” his friend Lord Murton muttered. “You are far too good-looking, Harrington. That is your problem.”

  A chuckle went around the group before the men continued discussing who this particular lady might have been. Benjamin only half listened, his deep blue eyes idly roving across the dance floor and the guests surrounding it.

  He knew that he cut a somewhat dashing figure, and had been blessed with his father’s strong features and dark straight hair, although he certainly took more care over his appearance than his father ever did. It was quite true that the ladies he sought attentions from did not turn him away and he had to laugh at Lord Murton’s envious comment. Apparently, the man had not had a warm body in his bed for some time.

  “Ah!” exclaimed one of his friends, Lord Penn. “I know who it might have been – there was a young lady at the ball last evening that you were making eyes at.”

  “At the ball?” Benjamin repeated, frowning. “I thought we went to Whites after that event.”

  Lord Penn laughed loudly. “Whites? No, indeed! Goodness, Harrington, how much did you drink last evening?”

  “You mean, we did not go to Whites?”

  Shaking his head, Lord Penn slapped Benjamin on the shoulder. “No, we did not. You must be thinking of the previous evening.”

  Benjamin shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. His evenings were all spent in much the same manner, so it was not too much of a surprise that they were now beginning to meld together into one. His memories of last night were fuzzy at best, so he accepted Lord Penn’s version of events without question.

  “So,” he said, turning to face his friend. “Who was this lady I was making eyes at?”

  Lord Penn’s face suddenly lost its smile, his eyebrows furrowing. “We did try to warn you away from her, but you were quite insistent. However, I had thought we’d managed to deter you but then you disappeared and we did not see you again for the rest of the evening.” He shrugged, as though it was quite a common occurrence for Benjamin to wander off. “I assumed you had gone home, for, by that time, the ball was almost drawing to a close.”

  “The lady,” Benjamin said, his frustration growing. “Who was the lady?” He had no idea what Penn was talking about, nor why he had been warned to stay away from her, but the way Penn was dancing around the subject was irritating Benjamin terribly.

  “Ah, yes,” Lord Penn muttered, his frown deepening as he tried to remember. “I think it was a Miss Simons.”

  Now it was Benjamin’s turn to frown. “Miss Simons?” he repeated, shaking his head. “I have no recollection of that name.”

  Lord Penn chuckled, although the frown did not leave his face. “Why should you? Given that you cannot even remember having a lady in your company last evening, you cannot be surprised that you do not recall her name.”

  Benjamin shook his head, turning to look out across the ballroom. He leaned his arms on the highly polished rail, suddenly relieved that they stood on the floor above the ballroom. It meant that he could have a better look at all the guests within and did not have to worry about bumping into the mysterious Miss Simons. The card room lay just behind him, calling to him to come and play once more.

  “I think I shall go play some faro,” he mumbled, standing up a little straighter.

  “Forgetting about the lady then, are you?”

  Benjamin nodded, trying to ignore the swift kick of unease that hit him right in the chest. It was not like him to take an unattached lady to his bed, for they were usually wealthy widows who, like him, had no interest in matrimony. Had he done something stupid, lost in the fog of drunkenness as he had been last evening?

  “Probably a wise idea,” Lord Penn agreed, coming to stand beside him to look out across the ballroom. “For I am quite sure that the angry looking man over there has something to do with her.”

  A sudden jolt ran straight through Benjamin as he saw an older man glaring up at him, his face a dark shade of red. Benjamin had never seen the man before, but apparently, he knew who Benjamin was. A young woman was standing next to him, her hand tugging at his arm as though trying to prevent him from his next course of action. Benjamin looked at the lady, his brow furrowing as he took in her oval face, pale skin and hair, and dark eyes. She was pretty, that was for sure, but he had no recollection of her whatsoever.

  “I think they are coming this way,” Lord Penn said, softly, a slightly worried tone in his words. “You might want to leave, Harrington.”

  It was in his best interests to remove himself, of course, but Benjamin saw at once that his exit was cut off, for the man and his assumed daughter were now climbing the steps that he would have to descend were he to exit. “Too late,” he muttered, passing one hand over his brow. “Whatever am I to do, Penn?”

  Penn shrugged, looking around him. “I think you are going to have to talk with the man, Harrington, although, if you want to leave with some of your dignity intact, you might wish to have the discussion in a room of your own.” He hurried across the hallway and tried the handle of a closed door. It opened at once and Penn stuck his head in for a moment, before looking back at Benjamin with a small smile. “This will do, I would say,” he said, gesturing for Benjamin to go inside. “Hurry now. He has seen you, I am quite sure.”

  Realizing that he had very little choice, Benjamin stepped into the small room, hearing the door close behind him. Was he able to escape the man altogether? He pressed his back against the wall and drew in a deep breath, hoping that it might be so. Whatever he had done, it was clearly of a serious nature.

  Without warning, the door was flung open and the red-faced gentleman stormed inside, tugging with him the girl. Benjamin stumbled as he turned to face the gentleman, seeing Lord Penn step in behind them and quietly shut the door.

  “You!” The gentleman screeched, his eyes narrowing. “I should take you out and shoot you where you stand!”

  Benjamin blinked, his gaze drifting to the lady by the gentleman’s left. Her cheeks were pink, but she gazed at him with a look of infatuation that caused the uneasy feeling to grow in his stomach. He had no recollection of her, nor any clue who this man might be.

  “I do beg your pardon, sir,” he said, sweeping into a bow. “I am afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.”

  Unfortunately, his calm words had quite the opposite effect. The man’s eyes bulged out of his head as he stepped forward, pressing one long finger into Benjamin’s chest.

  “How dare you?” he whispered, his voice filled with threats. “Do not pretend you do not know me, Lord Benjamin Harrington. I will not be duped!”

  “I’m afraid it’s quite true,” Lord Penn said, with just a hint of laughter in his voice. “Harrington has very little idea of who you are.”

  “Then why did you run in here?” the man demanded, his finger still pressing into Benjamin’s chest. “Your guilt is evident!”

  “As I said,” Benjamin replied, quietly. “I do not know you, sir, nor do I know this young woman, who I take to be your daughter.”

  To his surprise, the girl gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening as she stared at him, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks like gentle rivers.

  “I am truly sorry,” Benjamin continued, frowning. “I do not mean to cause you distress.”

  The gentleman in front of him looked a little lost, finally dropping his hand from Benjamin’s chest. “You took my daughter, Miss Simons, to your bed,” he said, slowly, his sharp eyes assessing Benjamin. “Her leaving the ball without her chaperone is an entirely different matter but she has always been a truthful girl.” His gaze grew fixed, his mouth thinning as he glared at Benjamin. “She has told me everything and I am here to demand retribution.”

  However, Benjamin, taken a little by surprise, let his gaze drift to Miss Sim
ons. This was the lady he had taken to his bed? An untried, unwed, debutante? When had he become so stupid?

  “You attempted to lay with her,” Lord Simons continued, his voice now shaking with anger. “Thankfully, you were too much in your cups to do anything other than fall asleep, but that does not take away from the shame you have placed on my daughter’s shoulders.”

  “And you know all this because she told you?” Lord Penn interjected, lifting his brows.

  Lord Simons nodded, his eyes never leaving Benjamin. “She has told me everything and I am here to demand retribution.”

  “You want her to marry Harrington?” Lord Penn asked, laughter in his voice. “Harrington, who is well known to be a rake and a wastrel?” He shook his head as Benjamin shot him a look. “Come now, Lord Simons, be reasonable. Even if what you are saying is true, your daughter deserves better than Harrington.”

  Benjamin inwardly cringed, his gut twisting as he saw the girl begin to cry all over again. “You say that I did not touch her?” he asked, quietly, seeing the man give a sharp nod. “Then I will be truthful with you, Lord Simons, and say that I have no recollection of your daughter’s company last evening, and, in addition to this, what Lord Penn says is quite correct – I am not a good choice for a husband.” He managed a wry smile, seeing Lord Simons grow a little confused. “What other retribution would you seek?”

  Lord Penn grinned, leaning back lazily against the wall. “Lord Simons, does anyone else know of your daughter’s late-night excursion?”

  “Well, the servants,” the man muttered, slowly stepping away from Benjamin. “Given that she did appear back at the house in a state of disarray, having had to walk from your home to our own townhouse in the early hours of the morning.”

  Something slammed into Benjamin’s gut as he took in the girl’s pale features, her cheeks still damp from her shed tears. He had never meant to do something as foolish as this and continuing to deny it was only increasing his guilt. Should someone discover what she had done, then her reputation would be well and truly ruined, whereas he would continue to do just as he pleased, unhindered by rumor and gossip. Suddenly, his mother’s words came back to haunt him, adding to his burden of guilt. You are bringing shame to our family.