Chapter One
Northampton
March 1817
Lady Mariel MabryBeaumont pulled on the reins until Zephyrus came to a halt. “Now what do we have here?” Patting the horse on his neck, she studied the long row of carriages lining the entrance into Ravenridge Manor. “It appears the viscount is having a lawn party.” The idea that Marcus could be hosting guests when her heart was in tatters had her gripping the reins as if a storm was about to sweep through.
Discovering a sennight ago that the man she loved, the man she’d planned to marry, the man who had died in the war against Napoleon, was alive and well and had been living in England for the last two years but never once thought to contact her, had buckled her knees. The layers of pain were so jumbled in her heart that she vacillated from hurt to rage and everything in between.
Two years! Though her brain told her he obviously didn’t feel anything for her to have hidden away for so long, her heart refused to believe that he no longer loved her. Something or someone had kept him from her. It was the only possible explanation that she could accept. He’d pledged his undying love for her not only in words, but also with letters, and gifts. She touched the octagonal garnet outlined in tiny diamonds that still hung around her neck. Even while she’d been married to Lord Beaumont, she’d never taken it off. Marcus’ words the day he gave it to her, the day he left for the continent, were forever etched in her mind.This is my heart. It is forever with you. Keep it safe.And she had.
Since learning of his subterfuge, she’d reached up to rip the necklace from her body at least a dozen times, but something held her back. She could not in good conscience relegate him to a mistake of her past without hearing his reasons for what he’d done to her…to them.
But confronting him as an uninvited guest would be far beyond the pale. Their conversation was not for society’s ears. As much as she wished to know why, she was too well bred to make a scene, especially among so many. About to turn Zephyrus around, she halted as a carriage came through the stone columns, expecting it to pass.
Instead, it stopped before her. The door opened and a young blonde woman poked her head out. “If you’re hoping to see Lord Blackmore, you’d best return on the morrow.” The woman wrinkled her nose. “Though he may not be at home then either.”
Unable to ignore her own curiosity, she nudged Zephyrus forward.
The young woman pulled back inside a bit as the large horse came closer.
Mariel wasn’t surprised. Most people had that reaction to her midnight black thoroughbred stallion. “What do you mean?”
The woman splayed both her hands as if in warning. “The lord hasn’t been home the entire month, yet he is nowhere else. I’m beginning to believe he’s a ghost.” She brushed a curl away from her cheek. “But if you’re like me and the rest of us,” she waved her hand back toward Ravenridge, “you’ll be back tomorrow. It’s not every day North Hampton has a new bachelor, especially when the season has already begun.”
Mariel looked down the line of carriages, another one starting up the drive toward them. “Are you saying all these carriages are people calling on the viscount?”
The young woman rolled her eyes. “Of course. Why else would we be here? Unless you wish to spend time with his mother, I suggest you turn about. I did.” She looked over her shoulder at something someone inside said, before continuing. “You may want to go to London though if you’re in search of a husband. I’m quite sure one of us here will catch him.” With that, the blonde closed the door and the carriage continued on its way, just as the next one came abreast of her. A pretty brunette stared at her from the window, but the conveyance didn’t stop.
She may not have her sister Joanna’s intelligence, but she did have a better grasp of society, and it was quite clear what was happening here.
Marcus was hiding.
An unreasonable feeling of glee passed through her at how uncomfortable he must be. He had a bevy of young debutantes calling on him as the new viscount, and he wanted nothing to do with them. Her heart skipped a beat. Was it because he still loved her? She shook her head. No, if that were the case, he would have contacted her as soon as his feet touched English soil, if not sooner.
Again she touched the necklace’s red stone. Maybe he loved someone else. Frustrated with her lack of information, she dropped her hand and picked up the reins as another carriage rolled through the stone columns. She’d waited long enough. Turning her mount around, she walked him back into the forest that bordered Ravenridge on its northern side. It had been in this very wood when she’d first met Marcus with only a footman accompanying her. She hadn’t known at the time that she had wandered off Silver Meadows’ grounds where her family visited her Aunt Mabry and found herself on the Viscount of Blackmore’s estate. She’d never forget Marcus’ gray, rebellious gaze or how tousled his thick, black hair looked from his ride.
She mentally shook herself. That was not what she needed to think about. She’d planned to ride up to the front door, demand entrance and confront the man she’d loved, not moon over a past memory. The new Viscount of Blackmore owed her an explanation, and she planned to have it.
Coming to a fork in the path, she guided Zephyrus to the right. It had been years since she’d ridden here, but she knew the way to Marcus’ favorite place on his father’s, now his, estate. Coming to the edge of the wood, she slowed. The stables were a brief gallop away and far from the prying eyes of the carriages on the front drive. Giving her stallion his head, she raced across the short field, usually filled with lily of the valley flowers in the summer, but now nothing but dry grass and dirt. Pulling up before the large stone building, she dismounted and looped the reins through a ring nearby and moved toward the open doors.
“Ebba, you can eat more than that. No, not my ear, you flirt.”
At the sound of his voice, she stilled, her breath lodged in her chest. Though she’d seen it in print, she hadn’t truly comprehended that Marcus was indeed alive. A rush of longing swept through her, and she grabbed onto the doorframe to keep from falling. Tears stung the backs of her eyes so she stepped back, leaning against the cold stone of the building.
A memory flashed through her mind of Marcus holding her gently, cupping her face in the moonlight and kissing her. The love in his gaze so clear, she’d melted into him. She closed her eyes, fisting her hands and forcing herself to remember he’d never contacted her. She’d been a widow by the time he’d arrived in England and yet he hadn’t let her know he lived. He couldn’t even extend that simple courtesy to her. Pulling on her anger, she pushed away from the wall and stepped into the stable.
The darkness blinded her to everything at first, and she waited until she could see clearly. Noises coming from the fourth stall on the left let her know where he was. Quietly, she walked forward until she could clearly see him. His back was to her, giving her a chance to accept it really was him and to adjust to the changes in him. His torso was broader than it used to be and his waist more narrow. His black hair was far shorter than she remembered. She latched onto those changes to keep her memories at bay. Steeling herself, she buried her hands in her skirts. “You’re alive.”
He spun at her voice. “Mariel.” The love and longing deep inside her were reflected in his gaze, and clear in his voice, as he spoke her name on almost a whisper. Everything she remembered about him and how he made her feel flooded her.
And then he changed before her eyes. The love she’d missed disappeared, the lines about his face grew deeper as it hardened, and his shoulders stiffened. “What are you doing here?”
It was as if Marcus never existed and before her was a stranger. His abrupt question lit the match to her simmering anger. “I came to see if it’s true.”
“It’s true. You can leave now.” He turned away from her, moving deeper into the stall, dismissing her as he turned the Irish Hunter around.
Not bloody likely. She stepped into the stall. “I want an explanation.”
