Chapter 12

Dear Mother and Father,

I had hoped to call on you whilst I was in town this past week, but circumstances have forced me to return to Hardacre Hall before I could do so. I regret this, for there is much to explain to you, and of such a delicate nature I cannot do so in a letter.

Over the coming days I fear there will be a scandal, and one which I will be at the centre of. I pray you will forgive me and believe me when I tell you I have done nothing you would be ashamed of me for. It is a matter of honour and the lady in a situation I cannot turn my back on. I hope for the moment that will suffice until such time I can explain myself in person.

I am truly sorry for any disagreeable scenes which I do not doubt will arise in the weeks to follow. I will do my best to make it up to you both.

Your affectionate son,

Hart.

―Excerpt of a letter from Mr Hartley De Beauvoir to his parents, Mr and Mrs Inigo and Minerva De Beauvoir.

10th March 1850, Hardacre Hall, Hardacre, Derbyshire.

Harris greeted Hart with a deferential tug of his cap as Hart surveyed the progress made in his absence. There were one or two details his critical eye fell on as needing work, but all in all, he admitted himself impressed.

"You've done an admirable job," he told Harris as the fellow flushed with pride.

"Well, it's easy enough when you've chapter and verse laid out before you," Harris replied with a rueful grin. "'Twas almost like you'd never left us."

"Cheeky bugger," Hart replied with a huff of laughter, though he knew he tended towards belt and braces when it came to his detailed notes and design drawings and what he wanted done. "Have you tried the water pressure on the fountains?"

"We have and it's just as you predicted. A sure, powerful jet of water. Perfect, it was. It will be a sight to see when all's said and done."

Hart smiled, relieved, though he'd not really doubted it. "I'm pleased, and you should be proud of yourself, the men too. It's taking shape nicely."

"Aye, that it is. I can't wait to see it this time next year," Harris agreed with obvious pleasure. "It'll be the finest garden anywhere in the country, there's no doubt of that. In the whole of England, I reckon."

Hart nodded, a pang of regret stabbing at him as he realised he'd never see it completed, not now. He said nothing to Harris about his premature departure for the moment. He would leave further instructions for the men and a personal letter for Harris, apologising for leaving them in the lurch. It was the best he could do. All he could hope was the duke wasn't vindictive enough to cut off his nose to spite his face and would allow the men to finish the job. At least the garden would be here whatever happened, proof of Hart's design, even if the associated scandal would forever tarnish his name.

Clapping Harris on the back, he excused himself and hurried back to the cottage, there was a great deal to do, and not much time in which to do it. He'd barely stepped through the door when there was a peremptory knock and Alex barged in.

"Where the devil have you been?" the boy exclaimed, his face flushed.

Hart regarded him with disfavour. "That's none of your business, and what do you mean by barging in here, you young scapegrace? Have you no manners?"

Alex flushed but put up his chin. "Never mind all that. I know everything. Fidelia told me, and she's been beside herself waiting for you to return. Why didn't you reply to her letter?"

"Because it wouldn't have arrived much before I did, and what exactly could I write in it?" Hart demanded irritably, studying the boy with a critical eye. "And what is it you think you know?"

"I know about Ambrose," he said, lowering his voice, as if there might be spies in the woodwork of the cottage. "I know that you went to find him, and I know Fidelia needs to get out of here at once. She can't marry Malmsey. She just can't, sir, I've heard tales about him and… and…"

"All right, all right, calm yourself," Hart said, moving to the lad and laying a hand on his shoulder. "Take a breath."

Alex glared at him but did as he was told.

"I know about Malmsey too," Hart replied grimly, having heard the worst of it from Kathy, who had confirmed the words of Fidelia's fears. It appeared everyone knew the man was a brute. No one with an ounce of decency would have handed a dog into his care, let alone a woman. Unconsciously, Hart's hand strayed to his coat pocket, feeling for the folded paper he'd put there as a mingled flood of anticipation and terror washed through him. "Don't worry. I've been making arrangements for your sister. That's why it's taken me a while to get back here. It's all in hand," he said, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt.

Alex let out a breath, some of the tension leaving his narrow shoulders. "You'll get her away from here?"

"I will," Hart agreed. "But I need to speak to her, Alex. Can you tell her to meet me in the place where we had our picnic? This evening if she can, before it gets dark."

Alex nodded. "She's been taking her meals in her room since Richmond and Malmsey turned up. She's frightened of them. I don't blame her, either."

Fury erupted in Hart's blood at the words.

The idea of Malmsey so much as touching Fidelia made something inside Hart grow cold and calculating, and he found himself assailed by a desire to dismember his lordship… slowly. "I'll kill the bastard. Has he…?"

Alex shook his head. "I've not left her alone with him, not for a moment, but I don't trust either of them. You must get her away at once, and I need to get back to her. I don't like leaving her for long."

Hart nodded, the boy's face was too grave not to be taken seriously. He believed Fidelia was at risk and Hart wasn't about to take a chance that Alex was overreacting. "Tonight then," he said grimly.

"She said we could depend on you," Alex said, his eyes shining with gratitude. "Not that I doubted it, really," he added ingenuously.

Hart looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the worshipful look in the boy's eyes. Alex and his sister were depending on him to make everything right and he could only pray he was up to it. The Duke of Beresford was a powerful man, and not one he wished to make an enemy of, but the die was cast, his fate sealed.

Fidelia needed him, and he would not back out now. He had always known Lady Fidelia would bring trouble down upon his head, now he need only discover just how devastating that trouble would be.

Fidelia stood by the window in the library and scanned the horizon, looking for Alex and praying every moment that she would see him riding back to the house. He had left the moment they'd heard of Hart's return, promising to discover what the plan was and return to her with news of Ambrose. Yet the minutes had dragged interminably from the moment he'd left, and Fidelia was beside herself with impatience.

"All alone, pretty one?"

Fidelia gasped and turned, feeling the colour drain from her face as Lord Malmsey entered the room. She supposed some would consider him a fine-looking man, tall and broad-shouldered as he was, with jet black hair and dark eyes. Yet those eyes were too closely set, his lips thin with a tendency to turn down, and there was nothing in his face that spoke of warmth or kindness.

"As you see," Fidelia said, with more courage than she was feeling. From the first, this man had made her feel afraid. The way he looked at her set her skin crawling. It was a possessive look, one that made her believe he wanted nothing less from her than complete submission. "Which you must know is unacceptable. If you will excuse me, my lord, I will fetch my maid as chaperone if you wish to talk."

She hurried past him, but not quickly enough as his hand shot out and grasped her, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of her upper arm hard enough to leave bruises.

"Oh, no, love. I don't wish to talk," he replied, a curl to the thin lips that made her heart skip. "We're to be married after all, and a woman of your experience has no requirement to observe the proprieties. That horse has bolted," he added with a sneer.

"How dare you," Fidelia breathed, tugging at her arm. Richmond, she thought in disgust, for surely her father would not have confessed such a thing to Malmsey, though for the sake of his own pride and for no other reason.

Malmsey only laughed and backed her up against the nearest bookcase, his sour breath reaching her nostrils and making her recoil further. Seeing her look of revulsion, he grinned nastily. "Come, pretty one, don't pretend you don't want the same thing I do. You couldn't wait for the marriage bed before, so I see no reason to disappoint you now, hmmm?"

"You disgusting pig," Fidelia spat at him, with more courage than good sense, and was rewarded with a stinging slap that made her ears ring. Tears sprang to her eyes, her cheek burning as Malmsey regarded her with cool contempt.

"That was just a little warning, sweetheart. Don't try me. I don't suffer fools and I don't let little sluts pretend they're anything but what they are. I'll have no air and graces, no coy modesty. Your father may have been less than forthcoming, but I know I'm being paid to take damaged goods, and by God, if I want a taste before I commit to the arrangement, you'll bloody well give me one."

Fidelia stared at him in horror, knowing everything she had feared was nothing less than the truth. Hart, she thought, with her own heart beating furiously. She must get to Hart. If only he were here now, Malmsey would never dare speak to her so. Hart would see to that. She must get to him. Yet, Malmsey was bigger and stronger, and she doubted her chances of getting away from him if she tried to fight. Instead, she pretended to sigh and look resigned to her fate.

"Oh, very well," she said flatly. "But not here. My father could come in at any moment and, as disappointed as he may be in me, he won't take such an insult as that with equanimity, I assure you."

"Ah, you are a sensible creature, after all," Malmsey said approvingly. "Where, then?"

"My room, I suppose. If you'll give me a moment to ensure my maid isn't there, and then you may come and—"

"Oh, no, my pretty one," Malmsey said with a chuckle. "I'm not as foolish as that. I'll come along with you. If your maid is there, I'll simply wait around the corner."

Fidelia gritted her teeth against the oath brewing on her tongue and returned a taut nod. "As you wish," she replied coolly.

"Let us away then, sweetheart." Malmsey put her hand firmly on his arm, holding it in place as he escorted her from the room.

Fidelia's mind raced as they walked, trying to figure the best way of getting free of the odious man. Turning the corner onto the corridor that led to her room, Fidelia had begun to despair when she saw movement upon the stairs. A pale golden head of hair came into view and Fidelia called to her brother urgently.

"Alex!"

Turning towards his sister's voice, Alex started, his boyish face darkening as he saw Malmsey escorting her.

"Fidelia, I was looking for you," he said, glancing from her to Lord Malmsey. "I want to show you something."

"Oh, really, dear? I beg your pardon, Lord Malmsey, but my brother—"

"Your brother is a big boy now and well able to entertain himself," Malmsey said, his tone one that suggested Alex mind his own business. "Run along, child."

He really could have said nothing better calculated to make Alex furious.

"Child?" he repeated in disgust. "I'm no child, sir. And I'll thank you to unhand my sister."

"Your sister has business to attend to," Malmsey said, leering at Fidelia in a way that made her stomach twist. She tugged away from him, trying to free herself from the iron grip he had taken of her hand.

"Let me go," she said furiously, pulling harder despite the pain that lanced through her as his punishing hold on her tightened, grinding her bones together.

"Let her go," Alex said, in a voice she had never heard from her gentle brother before.

His blue eyes flashed with fury, and he ran at Malmsey headfirst, taking him by surprise and tackling the fellow so hard Malmsey staggered back and let go his hold of Fidelia. The two of them crashed to the floor, Malmsey letting out a muttered oath as Alex landed heavily on top of him.

"Run!" Alex shouted at her. "Go to the picnic spot. Go now," he yelled, bracing himself as Malmsey got to his feet.

"But, Alex," Fidelia said in alarm, knowing he was no match for a grown man.

"I'll manage," he promised her with a devilish grin. "Go!"

Fidelia had little choice but to do as he asked. She flew to the stairs, hurrying down as fast as she could. Glancing up, she saw Alex scramble to his feet and duck a blow that would have broken his jaw, and then the lad took to his heels, with Malmsey in hot pursuit. With a sigh of relief, she realised Alex had more sense than she'd credited him with. He knew Hardacre like the back of his hand, and whilst he might not have the brawn of Lord Malmsey, he was quick and lithe and well able to evade the fellow.

With no time to do anything more than snatch her bonnet and cloak, Fidelia put them on as she ran from the house, heedless of the astonished stares from butler and footmen alike. She may as well give them a show now, soon everyone would know what she'd done and why. Fidelia knew the idea ought to terrify her, but she could only feel a gleeful sense of exultation as she ran. Freedom beckoned, and whilst that freedom may come at a high price, she welcomed it.

By the time the lake came into view, sparkling even in the light of a grey March afternoon, her exuberance was waning, her lungs bursting against the confines of her corset. Ladies were not meant to run or indulge in any strenuous activity, and despite the miles she walked daily, she was unused to such energetic activity. Regardless of the cold, her cheeks burned, sweat trickling uncomfortably down her spine as she climbed the slope up to the picnic spot she had taken Hart to, what seemed like a lifetime ago now. The sight of him standing upon the rise—a large, dark shape, solid and dependable, silhouetted against the dimming light—made her heart leap and was enough to bring tears of relief to her eyes.

"Hart!" she exclaimed, the stress of the past moments crashing down upon her as he started towards her.

"Fidelia! Love, what is it? What's happened?" he demanded, reaching for her and pulling her up to stand beside him.

"Oh, thank God," she said, going to him without a second thought, moving into his arms as though it were the most natural thing in the world, the place she belonged.

"Now then, what's all this?" he asked as she buried her face in his chest, inhaling the masculine woodsy scent of him with such relief her knees felt weak. His arms went around her, holding her close to him, and the feeling that swept over her, of safety and belonging, was so profound it was a moment before she could gather her wits enough to speak.

"Malmsey," she said breathlessly. "I… Oh, Hart, I was so afraid. He really is the most despicable, loathsome toad."

"What did he do?" There was a dangerous note in Hart's voice, and she glanced up at him, a little daunted by the look in his eyes. The burning fury she saw there boded ill for Lord Malmsey and made Hart suddenly appear a stranger to her, far removed from the good, gentle man she knew.

"It doesn't matter now. I'm unhurt," she assured him, recovering herself. "But I must leave here, now, this minute. Hart, tell me, Ambrose—"

Hart shook his head. "No, not yet, love, but don't fret. I'll explain everything later." He regarded her, his expression softer now as his large, calloused hand cupped her cheek. His thumb stroked her skin gently as he searched her eyes. "He didn't hurt you? You're sure?"

Fidelia nodded. "No, only frightened me. I'm so sorry, Hart but I must leave now. If I don't, I dread to think what will happen to me. Malmsey was so angry. I only hope he doesn't catch up with Alex. If not for him, I'd have not escaped."

Hart's face darkened once more. "I see," he said, the words spoken through gritted teeth. "It seems Lord Malmsey needs a lesson in manners."

Fidelia grasped at his arms, feeling the muscle beneath the thick fabric of his coat, rock hard and singing with tension. "Now, Hart, please."

Though his desire to return to the Hall and vent his wrath on Lord Malmsey was palpable, Hart nodded. "Come then," he said. "Can you walk? We can't go to the stables, someone will see us. We'll have to go cross-country to the village and pray we can get away before your father discovers what you've done."

Fidelia gave him a wry look. "Of course I can walk," she said impatiently.

"Good," he replied crisply and took her hand, setting off at a pace that made her breathless, even though she knew he had moderated his stride for her. As they walked, she reflected on the difference between Hart's firm hold on her hand and Malmsey's brutal grip. Smiling, she squeezed his fingers and Hart glanced down at her.

"It will be all right," he said, the words calm and reassuring. "I'll not let anyone hurt you. I'll take care of you."

"I believe you," she said, entirely willing to place her trust in him.

He nodded, his expression giving nothing away, and carried on walking until they came to his cottage. "Come in a moment. I need to pack a few things, as I'm unlikely to be welcomed back here again."

Fidelia frowned. "But Hart, no one need know you helped me get away. I won't tell anyone, and Alex wouldn't give you away. Once I'm settled, you can return to work and deny all knowledge of my disappearance."

Hart gave her a look of fond exasperation but said nothing as he moved deftly about the cottage, gathering his things with the minimum of fuss and packing them into a small valise.

"Right, that's the lot. We'd best make haste."

They'd barely set foot on the path outside the cottage when the sound of hooves thudding reached their ears. Hart pushed Fidelia gently but firmly into the space between a large laurel bush and the cottage, thrust his valise into her arms, and stepped forward to meet whoever was bearing down on them.

"Alex!" Hart said in alarm.

Upon hearing this, Fidelia emerged from the bushes, running forward to check on her brother. There was a livid bruise rising on his forehead, but he looked triumphant and seemed somehow to have grown older in a matter of hours.

"Here," he said, as Fidelia observed he had brought a horse with him. It was ready saddled, and he passed the reins into Hart's hands. "You'd best hurry. Malmsey was spitting fire when I left him locked in the attic rooms, and Richmond saw me leave. I doubt it will take long for them to follow."

"Good lad," Hart said approvingly. "You hurt?"

"A glancing blow," Alex said in disgust, earning himself a hearty slap.

"Good on you. We'll hear all about it later, eh? You're coming with us?" Hart guessed, something Fidelia had not expected.

"I should think I am," Alex said hotly. "Father will skin me alive for my part in this and I'd not stay for a million pounds. If… If that's all right with you?" he added, regarding Hart with an anxious expression.

"It is," Hart agreed. He wanted them both away from those vile men, though he doubted if he'd be able to keep Alex with them for long when the duke discovered his defection.

"Oh, but Alex," Fidelia began, horrified that her brother should be cast adrift too. He did not know what he was doing, what he was giving up by allying himself with her. She must warn him. "Alex, you must go back, you don't understand—"

"Hush, love," Hart said firmly. "We'll talk about this later."

With little choice but to do as he asked, Fidelia allowed him to throw her up into the saddle before taking his place behind her, and they were on their way.