Sara Lindsey - [Weston 03] Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Family Tree

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Thanks

  Promise Me Tonight Excerpt

  Tempting the Marquess Excerpt

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  For Dad,

  even though you repeatedly suggested the title,

  No Pants Romance.

  You’re my champion and my companion. I love you.

  And also for the readers who asked for Henry’s story.

  You helped me remember what happily ever after is really all about.

  PROLOGUE

  FEBRUARY 1784

  SUFFOLK, ENGLAND

  FOR A GIRL OF ONLY eight years old, Diana Merriwether was very good at hiding. She hid in empty cupboards, behind thick drapes, and under accommodating pieces of furniture. She’d tucked herself beneath the big desk in the library today. She enjoyed hiding, but she loved the excitement of someone finding her.

  Her parents were very good at finding her. They called her name throughout the house, with Mama pulling the drapes aside, and Papa searching beneath the beds and opening cabinet doors. Diana’s nurse believed hunger would eventually drive any child out of hiding, so she saved her knees the trouble of looking. Nurse wouldn’t have been good at finding in any case; she was old and didn’t move much above a waddle. She also had Diana’s little brother, Alexander, to watch over.

  There weren’t many good hiding places at Swallowsdale. Papa said the stables were too dangerous to play in, and Mama had forbidden her from going in the home woods alone since the time she got lost. If she were at Halswelle Hall, where her grandparents lived, she would never run out of places to hide. She had only visited once, but she remembered that The Hall was as big and grand as a palace. When Diana had said as much, her grandmother had explained that dukes and duchesses were only a step below royalty. Her grandparents had visited Swallowsdale when Alex was born, but now they just sent for Mama to come to them.

  Her ears pricked as she perceived the faint rattle of coach wheels. Papa hadn’t said anything about a visitor today. Could Mama be home? She had gone to The Hall almost a fortnight ago because the duke had taken ill. He and the duchess often took ill, and they always sent for Mama—just in case. In case of what, Diana wasn’t sure, but she wished it didn’t happen so often. She liked it best when her family was together. Papa was always grumpy when Mama went away; he missed her worst of anyone.

  As the heavy tread of her father’s footsteps sounded down the stairs, Diana considered leaving her hiding place beneath the desk. She didn’t want to run into the entry hall if the person in the coach had come to do business. Papa wouldn’t like that, since she was supposed to be reading quietly in the nursery. She caught her breath as the library door opened with its telltale squeak. Papa always promised to fix it, but the stud kept him very busy.

  “Your messenger said only that I must come home at once.” Diana nearly darted out at hearing her mother, but the strain in her voice kept Diana still. “You promise the children are well?”

  “Did I not tell you so at the door?” Papa did not seem at all happy to see Mama. A bad feeling took up root in Diana’s belly as the door squeaked closed.

  “Oh, I have been so anxious,” exclaimed her mother. “I was so frightened Alex or Diana had taken ill, or that you were hurt, or—”

  “Would you care if I were hurt?”

  “How can you ask me that?” her mother demanded.

  “You leave so often, I don’t know who you care for anymore.”

  This wasn’t right. She wanted to tell her mother to leave the room, and then come back in and begin again. Her parents would find her hiding underneath the desk and they would all laugh. Papa would tell her that she was a clever puss, and then Mama would groan and say he shouldn’t encourage her, but she would smile when she said it.

  “Is this the urgent reason you needed me home?” her mother asked angrily. “I know there’s no love lost between you and my parents. I don’t blame you, and I don’t begrudge you your dislike. You know why I go; we have the same argument every time I leave. Was it necessary to scare me out of my wits because you wanted to go over it again? For God’s sake, I would have returned in a couple more days.”

  This was wrong, Diana thought, but if she told them, she would give away her hiding place. She had a feeling that whatever her parents were fighting about, it was serious. She curled herself into a tighter ball and rested her cheek on her knees, waiting for it to be over.

  “No, that isn’t the reason I sent for you,” Papa said. “Before I say why, is there anything about your visit that you want to tell me? Is there anything you think I should know?”

  “No, I don’t believe so. The Hall was very dull—”

  “Is adultery dull to you? Damn you, Linnet, if you wish to make a cuckold of me, couldn’t you at least choose a smart man? He sent on a shift you left behind.”

  Adultery. Diana had heard that word before. It wasn’t a good word. It was one of the thou-shalt-nots that the vicar liked to go on about come Sunday morning. But Mama—

  “How dare you?” The sharp slap of flesh on flesh split the air.

  “Don’t do that again,” her father warned. “You don’t get to act the part of the outraged wife when I know you spent days at Peckford’s house. I wouldn’t ordinarily read your mail, but I wondered why Peckford sent a messenger with a parcel for you. Imagine my surprise when I unwrapped the paper and found your underclothes! I don’t know why I bothered to read the letter but, the more fool I, some part of me hoped there might be an explanation.” Diana heard the crinkle of paper. “He wrote how he enjoyed having you in his home, although he fears you did not get much sleep—”

  “You are a fool. Mother and I went to dine at Folkham and, while we were there, the weather turned bad. Mother made such a fuss, Malcolm felt obliged to let us stay the night. It must have snowed as much here as it did there. We couldn’t leave for a couple of days, but it isn’t as if I were alone with the man. I spent my time nursing his aunt since the doctor could not get through from the village. My shift needed washing after she was sick on me in the night. One of the maids lent me a clean one. Obviously, I forgot to retrieve mine before we left. I can’t imagine why he would send it here rather than The Hall.”

  “You could make a man forget his own name, let alone his common sense. It’s a tidy explanation, I must admit, but that hardly sounds like a dull visit. If it’s all as innocent as you say, why would you feel the need to hide it from me?”

  “I didn’t tell you because I feared you would react like a jealous idiot. It seems I was correct. I am prepared to forgive you, after a proper amount of groveling, because if some woman sent home your smalls, I don’t know which of you I’d kill first.” She laughed, but Papa stayed silent. After a long moment, her mother whispered, “My God, you don’t believe me.”

  �
�This isn’t this first time you and Peckford have slept under the same roof. I remember, when you went to The Hall in December, you wrote in one of your letters that Peckford had stayed the night. You gave yourself away.”

  “Malcolm is my parents’ nearest neighbor; he dines at The Hall regularly. The poor man had too much to drink one night. He wasn’t fit to ride home, and The Hall can certainly accommodate another person.”

  “Unlike here, you mean?” He gave a bitter laugh. “I know this isn’t good enough for you, that I’m not good enough for you. I tried as hard as a man can try, but I can’t live like this. I thought I could steal you away, as Hades did with Persephone, but I should have known I couldn’t keep you in my world.”

  “You are talking nonsense. Have you been drinking Bar’s moonshine again? My world is wherever you are. I don’t enjoy dancing attendance on my parents, but for the children’s sake, I must keep them happy. You know I would rather be here with you. Your past has never mattered to me. I wouldn’t care if you were a fishmonger. You are the one who has always been concerned that you’re a bastard. That’s an accident of birth. You have no such excuse for acting like one right now.”

  Her father said a bad word under his breath. “When were you planning to tell me about the babe? I know you’re with child, so don’t think to deny it.”

  “Why would I deny it?” she returned hotly. “I would have told you before I left, but I wanted to wait until I was certain. I haven’t felt sick at all, and”—her voice shook—“we’ve been disappointed before. I thought… I thought you would be happy.”

  Mama was going to have another baby? Maybe this time, Diana would get a little sister. She loved Alex, but a sister would make her so—

  “Happy?” her father shouted. “You thought I’d be happy?”

  Something hit the wall and shattered.

  “Thomas! That vase was a wedding gift from the Prince of Wales,” her mother exclaimed.

  “And now it’s broken. Just like my trust. Just like our marriage. Christ, do you even know if it’s mine?”

  Why was Papa being so mean? He knew how much Diana loved that vase. She was always so careful when she looked at it. She knew it was special, just as Papa always told her she was special. Why would he break something she loved?

  “How can you say these things?” her mother whispered. “When did you stop loving me?”

  “What do you mean?” Her father’s tone was low and gruff; Diana had to strain to make out the words. “I dreamed of you, wanted you, from the first time I saw you. I fell in love with you that night you sneaked to the stables to watch over that foal. God help me, even knowing what I do, I still love you. I’ll love you until I die.”

  “If you loved me, you would trust me.” Mama’s voice trembled as if she were trying not to cry. At first, Diana had been too surprised to cry, but now the surprise was wearing off. She bunched up her pinafore and pressed it to her face so no one would hear her distress.

  “I don’t know who you are,” Mama said slowly. “There is a stranger in this room with me. You aren’t my Thomas. You aren’t the man I married, or the father of my children or”—she choked—“or the man I love. He is the father of this child. I don’t know you, and I don’t care to know you. I’ll return to The Hall as soon as the horses are rested, and I won’t come back. I pity you on the day you realize how stupidly you’ve acted.”

  “I don’t know you, either. You say you love me, and maybe you did when we married. You chose me then, but now you run off to your parents at the first word. They treat you like a servant. They haven’t forgiven you, Linnet, and they never will. They want Alex.”

  “I’m not an idiot. I know my parents’ shortcomings, but at least their anger at me is justified. I wonder if you realize you’ve given them just what they want. You’ve driven the children and me straight into their arms.”

  “Diana and Alex stay with me. I won’t have them raised in that shrine to wealth and privilege.”

  “You can’t raise Diana alongside you in the stables. Do you want her to grow up to be a lady or a circus performer? And whether you like it or not, Alex is second in line to the dukedom. That ‘shrine to wealth and privilege’ might well be his someday. Will you deny our children their birthright?”

  “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them,” came her father’s fierce reply.

  “Then perhaps you’re not completely lost, even if you are lost to reason.”

  Long moments passed before her father said, “Diana will have a better life with you than I can give her, but you must break with Peckford. I don’t want him around my children. I want Alex—”

  “I was never with him!”

  Then there was only the sound of Mama crying. Diana cried with her. They would hear her soon. She couldn’t keep quiet much longer. Mama was leaving, and Diana would go with her. Papa didn’t even care. He only wanted Alex.

  “There are times I’ve been so angry with my parents that I wished them out of my life, but however much I disagree with them, I have always understood them.” Her mother sounded as if she had a cold. “I will never understand how you could doubt me. I didn’t know I could love someone and hate him at the same time.”

  “Neither did I.” Papa’s voice was colder than Diana had ever heard it. “You will stay the night. Tomorrow—”

  “No!” Diana shrieked, scrambling out from under the desk. “No, no, no, no!” She stamped her feet and flailed her arms around, trying to make it all go away.

  “Diana…” Her mother, ashen-faced, took a step toward her.

  Diana screamed as loud as she could. If she couldn’t hear her parents, then they couldn’t say any more bad things. Or at least she couldn’t hear them. So she screamed until she ran out of air, and then she was crying. She was crying with her whole body, crying so hard that it hurt and made it difficult to breathe.

  Her mother’s concerned face swam before her eyes. “Come now, you must stop. You will make yourself sick.” She reached out a hand.

  Diana backed away. “Don’t touch me!”

  “Diana, love,” her father began.

  “Don’t call me that,” she sobbed. “You don’t love me.”

  “Don’t say—”

  “You don’t!” she yelled. “You only love Alex. I hate you! I hate you, hate you, hate you!” With a fierce cry, she shoved everything she could off of her father’s desk. The papers, the books, the inkwell—off it all went in a satisfying crash. She didn’t wait to assess the damage, though. She ran from the study, then through the front door and out into the cold, dark night.

  Diana heard her parents calling her name, but she ignored them. When her father came after her, she just ran faster. She ran and ran and ran, her heart pounding away in her chest and tears coursing down her face. Because if she ran long enough, and if she ran far enough, Diana was sure she could find a hiding place so secret, so safe that nothing bad would be able to find her…

  CHAPTER ONE

  With you and Olivia now happily married, I can turn my attentions to your brother. I had hoped, as you may have guessed, he and Miss Merriwether would suit. I know you think her quiet and reserved, but your rogue of a brother needs a woman with maturity and strength of character—a woman to see beyond his looks and his flirtations to the man he has the potential to be. I thought to bring them into each other’s company by pushing him to dance with her, but I should have known he would look askance at any female brought forth by his mother. All his life, I have only sought his happiness. As Shakespeare wrote, “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child!”

  —FROM THE VISCOUNTESS WESTON TO HER DAUGHTER THE COUNTESS OF DUNSTON

  SIXTEEN YEARS LATER

  LONDON

  “ARE YOU TRULY STAYING IN town for the Season?” Isabella, Countess of Dunston, asked as she handed her brother a cup of tea. “I thought having the whole family here would send you running far and fast.”

  “I am keeping a valise packed in
the event I need to flee in the night.” Henry Weston regarded his sister with amusement. “Was that your subtle way of suggesting I leave, Izzie? Perhaps you should have considered how often I would visit your breakfast room before you married my oldest friend.”

  Isabella laughed, but Henry didn’t miss the subtle tension that tightened her shoulders. James Sheffield, Earl of Dunston, the husband and friend in question, frowned as he set aside his morning paper. “I would wager you come for the food, rather than the company,” he said dryly as he took Isabella’s hand. They exchanged a fond, intimate look that had Henry averting his eyes.

  Isabella leaned forward in her seat. “Hal, you must know I am always happy to have you with us,” she earnestly assured him. “I even suggested to James that you ought to stay here. Now that I have redecorated, this is surely more comfortable than your bachelor’s lodgings. However—”

  “However,” James broke in, “I persuaded your sister that her generosity was unnecessary.”

  “But James—”

  Henry chuckled. “No, Izzie, he’s quite right. ‘Two is company, three is none,’ isn’t that the saying? Believe me, I have no desire to intrude on your, er…”

  “Desires?” supplied James.

  “Do you know, I believe we’re long overdue for a round in the ring at Jackson’s. I know I promised my sister I wouldn’t call you out for seducing her, but I think I deserve the opportunity to blacken your daylights.”

  “Don’t you dare think of fighting with James,” Isabella warned. “And, just so you know, I was the one doing the seducing.”

  Henry and James groaned in unison.

  “Hush, love,” James told his wife. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

  “The only reputation you need to be concerned with upholding,” Izzie maintained, “is that of the world’s most faithful husband and devoted father.”

  “And if he slips up? Then can I pound him into the ground?” Henry asked hopefully.

  “If he slips up, you are welcome to whatever is left once I’ve finished with him,” his sister agreed, her blond curls bobbing in approval.