On A Cold Christmas Eve (11 page)

For her part, Lucy did what she could before returning to her room that afternoon, exhausted and still missing Adam.  She'd asked Elsie about her mysteriously absent husband as she'd prepared for a nap before dinner, but the maid had no information, other than to assure her that he was still on the estate and "taking care of important matters."  However, Elsie had also informed Lucy that the earl had been sent back to London and she shouldn't be worried that he might reappear.

Truthfully, Lucy hadn't even given him much thought.  She'd simply assumed that someone, probably Harry, had taken her uncle back to London and made him see reason.  Or at the very least had bribed him in some way.  That was, after all, typically the way of things with the upper classes.

Even though her uncle hadn't been on Lucy's mind, her husband certainly had.

In her heart, Lucy wondered if Adam was rethinking his marriage to her, if he was now sorry he'd rescued her from the plan her uncle and Archibald had concocted.  If he was, she knew he might seek a divorce, as their marriage was still not consummated, and he had legal grounds for it.  Or he could send her away.  He'd never indicated that this could possibly grow into a love match, no matter what Amelia believed and she wasn't about to start thinking foolish thoughts now.

Adam didn't love her and it was doubtful that he ever would.  The best she could hope for was that he wouldn't send her away, though he was probably considering it.  Why else would he have stayed away from her for so long?

By the time she had finished dressing for dinner after a less than restful nap, Lucy was in a true state of depression.  Not even the softly glowing candles on the Christmas tree could lift her spirits.  Though she did admit that the house looked lovely, all soft and glowing, a rather cheery scene.  Somewhere in the distance, she heard the childish cries of Amelia's children, and Lucy imagined them racing through the house with unbridled excitement.  It was Christmas Eve after all, a time for miracles and love and joy and family.

But not for her.  Lucy wasn't foolish enough to think that she'd receive her heart's desire for Christmas.  She was not that fortunate and never had been.

Earlier while Elsie had been fussing over her like a mother hen, a wish, one so deep and strong and powerful that it shocked her, had stolen over Lucy's heart seemingly out of nowhere.  In that moment, Lucy's heart overpowered all and wished that someday, somehow she might win Adam's love.  Not just his affection and caring, but his heart, the whole of him.  And in return, she wanted him to accept her love, because Amelia had been correct in what she'd said earlier.  Lucy did love Adam, even though she had no idea how it was possible or when it had happened.

That was her Christmas wish and now, standing here by the tree, waiting for the rest of the family to join her, her heart and mind ached with the realization that his love for her was one wish that would never be fulfilled.

With a sigh, she smoothed her skirts, knowing that, at the very lest, Adam might desire her once he saw her in her new finery.  One of the gowns Madame Delphie had created for her had arrived by courier earlier in the day, and it was just as exquisite as promised.

The garnet-red satin gown fit Lucy's body perfectly, hugging her curves and flowing around her like river.  The bodice laced daringly up the back, and her breasts were so tightly confined that they rose higher than she'd ever seen them before.  The vivid color complimented her complexion and from somewhere Elsie had produced a diamond and ruby necklace that caught the light whenever she moved.  Matching earbobs hung low, caressing her bare shoulders and a bracelet, set with smaller gems, shone on her wrist.  Even Lucy had to admit that she looked exquisite, like a diamond of the first water - something she had never been in her entire life.

Everything about her was daring, risqué, and perfect for the wife of the Devil Duke.

However, she had yet to see Adam all day, which was curious and more than a little distressing.  Even if he no longer wanted her for a wife, she had no doubt that he would make a good show of it through the holiday season.  It simply wasn't done to get rid of one's wife until after Twelfth Night at the very earliest.

Tired of waiting and not hearing Amelia and her family draw any closer to the ballroom, Lucy decided to go in search of 
someone
.  Surely not everyone was otherwise occupied tonight, and, well, dinner was to be served soon.

Lucy had not taken more than three steps when she heard the door open on the other side of the room, the one that led to the gardens where she and Adam had walked on their wedding day.  Turning back, she was surprised to see not Adam but rather her uncle, wet and dripping with snow, crossing the room, a nasty grimace on his face.

"Greetings, your ladyship," he snarled and Lucy froze with fear.  She didn't like the slightly maniacal look on his face.  "Enough with the dress-up and pretending you're a lady.  I think we both know you're a whore at heart, and it's time you started earning me some money the proper way - on your back!"

Then he reached out and grabbed her arm, his eyes glittering wildly at the sight of the jewels around her neck, clearly thinking that he could sell them the way he'd sold her other heirlooms.  She fought him as best she could but he was stronger, far stronger than she was, and before she knew it, he was tugging her across the floor towards the terrace and the darkened, snow-covered gardens beyond.

No
.  The single word that Adam had uttered yesterday reverberated through her brain, waking Lucy from her mental fog.  She would not go to Covent Garden with her uncle.  Adam might not want her but she wasn't a whore.  She would fight!  All of it, including for her life with Adam.  No one was going to steal it from her.  Except that her feet were losing traction on the slippery floor, her slippers sliding as if she were on ice.

So Lucy did the only thing she could, the only thing that might bring someone, anyone to her rescue.  She screamed.

Adam was just hurrying down the grand staircase when he heard it.  The scream curdled his blood and left him cold.  That was Lucy's scream.  He knew it.  So he ran in the direction of the sound, praying that he wasn't too late to stop whatever was happening and cursing himself for so thoroughly losing track of everything as he tried to reorder his life.  And Lucy's.

He'd spent all day, as well as much of the previous day in meetings with numerous people.  He had plans.  Glorious, wonderful plans for his future, the one he'd never thought he could have until he met Lucy.  Certainly, he knew he might be rushing things, presuming that she might love him, even though it was doubtful.

Still, he'd wanted his gift to her this Christmas season to be perfect, a shining example of all he could offer her.  Of how much he loved her and how he prayed that some day, she might return that love.  All she had to do was agree to stay with him, see if a love between them could grow and blossom, to discover if his love for her would be enough to sustain them until she could love him in return.  It had started with his banishment of her uncle and a promise to strip the other man of his title, a promise that Prinny himself had agreed to extract on Adam's behalf.

He'd sent the earl back to town with Harry, but now as Adam raced through the house towards the ballroom, he realized that he hadn't seen Harry all day.  He also realized that he hadn't seen Lucy either or bothered to take the time to send her a note.  Good God, what must she think of him?

Then he heard another scream, and his heart fell. There was no question.  That was Lucy.  And she needed him.

By the time he reached the ballroom, his chest was heaving and fear had knotted its way deep inside of him, leaving him desperate.  When he looked up to see the Earl of Wellsford dragging Lucy towards the terrace doors, however, the desperation quickly changed from anger to rage.  No one, especially not this man, was going to hurt his wife.

"Release her, Wellsford," Adam shouted, his words stopping the other man immediately for which Adam was thankful.  Lucy wasn't dressed for the weather and was only now recovering after her walk through the rain.  If she went outside dressed as she was, she might catch a chill and die.  No.  He wouldn't allow it.

Slowly, he started across the room towards the other man, stopping only when he was but a few feet away, unable to keep his gaze from his wife.  "Are you hurt?"  He had to know if the lout had harmed her in any way.  If he had, Adam would not hesitate to kill, no matter what complications might arise from those actions.

"I am fine," she assured him, though he also saw that she was shaking, too.  Her hands trembled, and she grasped something in her hand.  He had no idea what the object was, but it was small, with a golden hue, not that it mattered.  What mattered was getting her away from Wellsford.  Even if she did not love him, he could not lose her.  Not now when he was so close.

Then she looked at him, those lovely aqua eyes full of fear, and he saw it.  Just as she had claimed to be able to see into his soul back in London, he saw into hers now.  He saw her fear, true, but he also saw her hope and her desire for him.  He saw her longing to be part of a family, to be loved and love in return.  It was there, within that love, that he saw it shining and glimmering, a bright beacon in the dark.  He saw her love for him, much as she tried to hide it.  It was there, mostly hidden, true, but not from him.  He could see it because that love was in his eyes too, and as he looked at her, he prayed that Lucy could see it as well.

She must have seen something in him because her back straightened and a small bit of anger overrode the fear.  There was his Lucy, the woman who had walked through the driving rain to a dark, gloomy estate in hopes of finding help rather than allow herself to become a victim.  That was his wife, the one that, as soon as this entire debacle was over, he was taking straight to bed and damn whatever night of the year it might be.

"This is over, Wellsford," Adam growled, his rage barely contained.  "You won't take Lucy.  She's mine."

In response, the earl sneered, making his face even more ugly and twisted than normal.  "Damn you, Enwright.  As if that idiot Bow Street man you sent with me would be enough to keep me in check."

That statement got Lucy's attention and her head snapped around.  "What did you do to Harry?" she demanded, her own anger rising more fully to pound hot through her blood.  Though she didn't know the man well, he'd been kind of her, and he was Adam's friend.  That was all she needed to know.  "If you have hurt him..."

"What will you do it about?" Wellsford laughed, an evil sound that made Lucy shiver.  "Are you going to hurt me?  You?  An idiot girl whose father should have sent her back to the sewers of India with her whore of a mother?"  He yanked Lucy closer, making her gasp, though from pain or outrage Adam wasn't certain.  "As if you could ever do anything to me.  I'm an earl, and you are nothing more than trash!  The title should have been mine from the start, not passed to your father who chased after every pretty skirt he saw!"

"That's enough."  Adam's tone was low and quiet again, the same one Lucy had heard him use in the breakfast room the day before.  It didn't bode well for her uncle, but she could now see that the other man was so desperate that he probably didn't care.  A thin trickle of now-dry blood had run down his temple to near his ear.  She hadn't noticed it before, but now she noticed it rather clearly.  Her uncle had been in a fight, and, unless she missed her guess, was probably in a good deal of pain.  There had to be a way she could use that to her advantage.

She was still working the situation over in her mind when she saw her uncle reach into his coat and withdraw a gun.  "I don't think so."  He also tightened his grip on Lucy's arm, and she gasped when he pressed the revolver into her side.  "My niece and I will walk out of here, neat as you please, and you will not stop me.  I will make certain that you never find her again, making you suffer for what you've done to me."

"But the money?  Her fortune?" Adam asked, not moving, his eyes trained to where the gun rested against his precious wife's side.  "Do you not care that without her, you will not get anything?"

"I'll still get her money," Wellsford growled.  "I'll be to the banks before you do, take what is mine, and then we'll leave, escape to the Continent.  There are plenty of soiled doves there, too, my lord.  Plenty of places where a wanton like her could be put to good use because there is nothing else she is good for."  The last was said with so much contempt that Lucy could almost feel the hatred clinging to her skin.

Adam's eyes grew dark and Lucy could feel the anger radiating off of him, the sheer rage that would, she knew, probably make him do something stupid.  He wouldn't act as carefully as he normally might, risking his life while attempting to save hers.  She couldn't allow that.  She loved him too much.

"I will cut your tongue out for that," Adam hissed and in that moment, Lucy could see all of the Devil Duke, the reason why her husband was so feared.  There was no humanity in him just then, no sense of reason.  There was only rage, black and curling, taking over every bit of his mind, and she knew that if he killed Wellsford, he would finally and completely lose his soul.  She refused to be the reason Adam gave up his humanity.  She wouldn't allow it.

She moved quickly, taking advantage of the fact that her uncle was focusing most of his attention on Adam and very little on her.  When he'd first grabbed her, she had tried to grab for the Christmas tree, as if the thing could somehow save her.  Instead, she'd managed to do nothing more than pull a small pair of golden sewing scissors, a gift intended for one of the maids who doubled as a seamstress, from the tree's thin, shaky branches.  Her uncle had never noticed when she hid the small trinket in her palm since he was too busy brandishing his pistol.  The same pistol that was now creeping away from her side and towards Adam.