Already His (The Caversham Chronicles - Book Two) (2 page)

He’d prefer the latter, but in a bind his hand would do.

He hurried through the chilly hallway of the family wing and slowed his pace when he heard the muted sobbing and delicate sniffling of a young lady as he passed the priest hole. The medieval tapestry that hung on the wall to his left had been the handiwork of several of his early female ancestors and their ladies, and had been in that same spot for over three hundred years. Only a few knew the true purpose of the tapestry was not in displaying the battle scene which won the first Earl of Camden his title, but rather it served to hide the entry of a secret passageway. The tiny room hid a stairwell leading to an escape route from the castle that not many knew about, so Michael wondered who it was hiding during his sister’s wedding feast. The room had been a favorite of his and his sisters when they were children. He and Christina used to play in the secret room, and hide from their nurses when they were young. Thinking on it, he hadn’t seen her below in some time, and he just passed Sabrina and his mother, so likely this was Christina. He wondered what had her so upset?

Glancing up and down the corridor and seeing no one, he moved the tapestry and slid behind it. Running his hand along the wall, he reached the open entry to the priest hole which began the escape route his relatives used on more than one occasion when the castle had been attacked.

As expected, he found Christina, in the tiny antechamber to the stairwell, with a solitary taper lit on the table. The room was unchanged since the last time he’d been there, with only one small table and two chairs filling the space.

He stood in the doorway, feeling as though the entire room had grown smaller over the past few years. Michael watched as Christina blew her nose delicately into a linen. His heart wrenched for her, his little sister. “If you had shut the door,” he said, “I never would have heard you weeping.” He put his hand on her back, wanting to give her his sympathy for whatever was breaking her heart. “Why aren’t you below, enjoying the festivities?”

“No reason,” she sniveled and wiped her nose. “I’m simply feeling sorry for myself.”

“I know you better than to believe that nonsense. You’re the least likely girl to feel sorry for herself that I know.” He stroked her back gently. “Come now, dry your eyes.” Michael tried to sound cheerful, thinking to get his sister back out into the great hall where the party was ongoing. “Tell me who it is that has you in tears and I will make sure the bounder pays for your upset.”

“I cannot.”

“Absolutely you can. You know I’m not averse to pummeling the face of the Prince himself if he were the one, though I doubt you’d find him to your liking.”

Christina dabbed at her eyes with her kerchief and shook her artfully arranged golden curls. “No. It would drive a wedge into your friendship. Even though he was not the only young man standing near me, when I turned I saw no one but Glencairn. I just hope Lord Vance did not witness his actions, because
he
is the man I am most interested in. Glencairn, though of noble birth, will certainly wind up a drunken, debauched rake. If he were to ever marry, he will not make the unfortunate young lady a good husband.”

“What did he do?” Michael had to ask, though he was not certain he really wanted to know because he hated the thought of having to call out his friend.

Christina started a convoluted explanation, and in between wiping her tears and blowing her nose, Michael thought he heard her misspeak. “He did
what?
” Michael’s ire rose, especially when he realized of whom she spoke. “Glencairn touched you inappropriately? In front of others? Where?”

She nodded.

“Christina, tell me exactly what did Glencairn do?” Before he pounded his friend’s face into a bloody pulp, he wanted to be certain of his actions.

“We were leaving the dance floor after a long, exhausting country dance, where Mr. Hampton was my partner, and Glencairn partnered Miss Prudence Chichester. There was such a crowd on the way to the refreshment table as it was the end of a set. Lord Vance was nearby, on my left, and Glencairn was directly behind me. I felt a large warm hand, masculine to be sure, touch me...” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “on my...” she seemed to struggle with saying where Ren touched her.

“Where did he touch you Christina?”

She pushed the heavy wooden door closed, and whispered, “He more than touched my bottom, Michael, he... he
squeezed
it! I have never been so shocked in all my life. That’s when I turned around to see your friend standing directly behind me acting nonchalantly, as though what he’d done was of no consequence.”

His sister went into another bout of tears, repeating her fear that Vance might have seen what Ren did, and that her chances with him were now forever ruined. Michael wanted to slam his fist into Ren’s ugly mug for what he did to cause his sister such distress. He knew better than anyone what a profligate rake his friend was. Michael had to warn him away from ever touching his sister again. At sixteen, Christina was too young and innocent for the likes of him.

Michael had heard enough. He wanted nothing more than to pummel his friend into the ground for taking liberties with his sister, but held his anger in check for her sake. He strode from the room, and went in search of Lord Glencairn, his best friend for ten years, since their very first day at Eton when they were both eight years old. The bounder had touched his sister inappropriately and by damn he would apologize to her.

Michael found Ren in the old castle’s receiving room which was the official card room for the evening. He sat with one of his new brother-in-law’s relations, Michael forgot the fop’s name, and several other young rakes, most of whom were older than they, Lord Vance among them. As Michael drew nearer, his friend met his gaze and gave him a lazy smile, likely influenced by the amount of alcohol he’d consumed.

Ren stood. “Would you like my seat Michael? I’m thinking about asking Miss Chichester for another dance. Hopefully a country dance where she has to skip a time or two.” His friend leaned in closer and whispered, “I keep hoping those glorious breasts of hers will come bouncing out of that low cut gown.”

Michael had heard enough. He swung first and clipped Ren on the jaw.

“What in hell was that for?”

“I think you know,” Michael hissed as he swung again, only this time Ren was able to deflect the blow.

The other guests in the room leaped from their chairs and cleared the floor for the two young bucks to fight.

“Is this about Prudence Chichester?” Ren said as he kept out of Michael’s reach. “I didn’t know you were interested in her.”

He shook his head, swung at Ren again who deflected his strike.

“Are you drunk, Michael? I’ll admit to having a few myself, but not....” Ren swung, Michael ducked and came around, only to feel the force behind his friend’s punch to his rib cage.

Michael grabbed Ren and wrestled him to the ground. “Did you touch my sister inappropriately?” He hissed only loud enough for Ren to hear his words. Heaven forbid that action were made public. It could ruin Christina.

“You’re either drunk or insane, Michael,” the young Lord Glencairn replied as he held Michael down.

But Michael was only momentarily pinned because he shoved Ren hard enough to roll his friend beneath him. Pressing his elbow into Ren’s shoulder, pinning him, as he reached out with his free hand and grabbed Ren’s wrist. “I’m neither, you ass, and you owe my sister an apology.”

The double-ring of young men circling them began to shout and Michael heard one of them call out, “Tell us what the fight’s about!”

Michael just grunted, not one to make public his emotions. He spoke in a low tone for Ren alone to hear. “My sister is in tears upstairs. She said you squeezed her bottom coming off the dance floor.”

“I did not,” Ren hissed, “and I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do.”

Michael lessened the pressure into Ren’s shoulder and shifted his weight, which proved a tactical error because he was soon back under his friend. Michael heard his coat tear and thought about the peel his valet would ring over him in the morning. “She’s upstairs crying because she said you touched her in a most egregious manner.” He struggled for a breath as his friend bore the brunt of his weight onto his chest, pinning him with a leg up. “She’s my little sister!”

“Gad, Michael! You’d think I tupped her for the reaction you’re giving me.” Ren pressed Michael’s leg a little higher up and he felt a burning sensation on the back of his thigh as he tried to buck his friend off.

“Don’t talk about my....” Michael strained, trying to best Ren and roll them over, “Don’t talk about my sister like that!”

“I gave you my word, so I don’t... understand why...” Ren grunted when Michael pushed up with the one foot he had on the stone floor, and tried to roll them over. “You’d believe her and not me.”

Michael heard material tearing, and wasn’t certain if it was his or Ren’s. “Did you....”

“I swear I haven’t touched your sister!”

“You will promise me you’ll never touch her,” Michael hissed in Ren’s ear.

“Believe me,” Ren said, “I have no desire to dally with your sister!” Ren weakened his hold a moment, and Michael rolled Ren under him.

“I want your word on that,” Michael said, shoving his knee into Ren’s groin for leverage.

“Bloody hell,” Ren ground out. “Only if I get yours in return.”

“You’re a sick sod.” Michael strained against the material which held him captive more than his friend. “Your sister’s yet a babe.”

The sound of shouting finally reached the confined circle of onlookers watching their debased efforts.

“Remember that when we’re older and she’s on the market,” Ren hissed.

“Do I have your word,” Michael demanded just before Ren flipped him on his back.

“Do I have yours?” As the words left his mouth the entire room fell silent. It was then that he knew someone, or likely more than one persons of importance, had entered. Persons of enough rank and presence to command the parting crowd to silence.

“Glencairn, get off the floor.” In a deadly calm voice, one known to make lesser men’s knees buckle, His Grace, the eighth Duke of Caversham, addressed his son. Then he added, “Brightman, the same for you.”

Ren wiped the blood from his nose and lip before meeting Michael’s gaze one last time before they separated. “Then we’re in agreement? Sisters are off limits?”

“Glencairn,” Ren’s father repeated, “Now.”

Michael didn’t speak, but met Ren’s cold silver gaze and nodded.

Haldenwood, Summer 1812. At the occasion of the marriage of the eighth Duke of Caversham to Lady Amelia Manners-Sutton.

L
ooking down from her perch in the oak tree near the terrace off her father’s office, Lady Elise Halden decided she would run away and join the gypsies. Gypsy children were free to roam the countryside and do as they wished, including fish and shoot their bow and arrows. Gypsy children could ride their ponies whenever they wanted for as long as they wanted. Gypsy children didn’t have to obey to the wishes of their nanny, governess or tutors—all of whom prevented her from doing the aforementioned activities as she pleased.

And as of today, she would now have to add a stepmother to the ranks of
those ordering her about.

Footsteps on the terrace told her someone was pacing, albeit slowly. She didn’t think anyone was looking for her, as no one ever did. Curiosity almost got the better of her. She knew if she shifted her position to look behind her, the tree would move alerting the person on the terrace of her presence. After a few minutes she caught a whiff of tobacco smoke and realized someone had come outside to puff on a cheroot. If she did not move, she could go undetected and be left in peace.

She heard the heavy footfall of a another man step outside, then recognized her brother Ren’s voice as he spoke.

“Why do unwed ladies think that the happy occasion of celebrating a marriage is the perfect place for choosing a husband? I had to escape the dancing before one of my new stepmother’s young relatives finagled me into a compromising position. I’ve just turned twenty-two and far from ready to marry.”

“I don’t know how you were able stay in there as long as you did,” the other voice replied, “I felt very much like meat hanging at the butchers.” There was a pause as the young man dragged on his cheroot. After he exhaled, he continued. “During our entire dance, Miss Valerie Morton informed me of her age and that she has made her bow.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Ren said.

“Oh, but she then listed a long string of accomplishments as though she were applying for a position. She then asked why she hadn’t seen either of us at any of the events in Town. I told her I was busy studying and you were often out of the country.”

Her brother grunted as he sighed, one of his few outward signs of frustration she’d learned long ago. “The lady with whom I danced, my new stepmother’s cousin, though not unattractive is not my type,” Elise heard Ren say. “What’s worse, she is following me around like a spaniel, complete with big brown puppy eyes.” Her brothers voice dropped to just above a whisper as he said, “You know I much prefer the petite blonds with blue eyes and bounteous breasts.”

The conversation was getting interesting, so she shifted slightly on her perch in order to better see to whom her brother spoke. She went as far out onto the limb as she dared.