Daughter of Darkness (2 page)

Without more ado he instructed the groom to remove the horse to the Lytton estate in Dorset, where she could be used for breeding purposes.

‘May God speed you safely home, sir,’ the Irishman called out when they parted in the stable yard.

Silently, and with more sincerity, Gerard echoed the sentiment as he took long, loping strides towards the docks. He reached his destination just after the ship had been released from its berth. Charles was gazing over the side and cheered him on as he raced down the wharf and leapt across the ever-widening gap. He managed to hold on to a rope net hastily thrown over the side by his servant, and was hauled aboard. As the ship made its way down the River Thames the two men watched fireworks burst overhead. Faintly came the sound of church bells. The citizens of London were welcoming in the New Year.

He exchanged a smile with Charles. Off to seek adventure, neither of them were aware that it would be four long years before they set foot on English soil again,

Summer 1754

‘Not that cloak, fetch the blue velvet with the white fur trim. It’s more becoming with this gown.’

And a match for your eyes.
Lady Edwina thought, gazing at Willow with more than satisfaction as the maid scurried to do her bidding. Just eighteen, Willow was a beauty, her body trembling on the brink of ripeness, her eyes sparkling with life.

Raised on an isolated estate in Ireland by a male tutor, Willow had been without grace when she’d arrived. Maturity and discipline had toned her rebellious nature, but not completely obliterated it.

When Gerard returned from America, her pert charm would intrigue him, as it did all men. She concentrated on her charge as the cloak was draped round her shoulders. ‘You will wear your fichu over your gown,’ she said sternly. ‘The grounds of St. James’s Palace will be full of officers for the King’s parade. I won’t have them peering into your bodice.’

Willow’s expression took on a teasing quality. ‘They are only men, Grandmother. What harm can it do when I am well chaperoned and out in the open?’

‘What harm!’
Lady Edwina almost shrieked. ‘The harm done to your reputation could be almost calculable. Gerard would expect you to behave with modesty.’

‘As if he cares,’ Willow muttered, stung into mutiny. ‘He’s not corresponded in any way, and neither has he enquired after my welfare in all this time. Truly, I’d not be at all surprised if he’d forgotten my existence.’ ‘

‘No doubt he has. What’s equally certain is that the sight of you will soon remind him.’

Willow’s pout became a sunny smile. ‘Is this becoming, Grandmother?’

The straw hat trimmed with cornflowers and embroidered silk ribbons sat jauntily above a white lace cap that matched the flounces on her sleeves.

‘You know it does you vain creature.’ She smiled as she caught the girl’s eyes, thinking.
I pray Gerard hastens home before some rake turns her head. I will take her to the country out of harm’s way. Ambrose and Caroline will welcome Gerard’s bride

The ride down the Mall to St James’s Palace had drawn many admiring eyes towards her. Willow’s eyes sparkled as an officer presented her with a red rose plucked from a garden bed.

‘I’m Lieutenant Hugh Macbride, and am at your service, ladies. My commanding officer sends his compliments and begs your company in the refreshment tent.’

‘And who exactly is your commanding officer, sir?’ Lady Edwina fixed her most chilling gaze on the hapless young man.

Willow smothered a giggle when he blushed.

‘General Robert Marriot, ma’am.’ Hugh Macbride snapped to attention. ‘He sends his compliments and… ‘

‘Yes—yes, we’ve been through all that already. Why did you not say your commanding officer was Robert Marriot in the first place?’

His blue eyes wandered back to Willow. Placing his hand over his heart, he smiled. ‘I was struck senseless by your daughter’s beauty.’

‘You’ll be struck senseless by my cane in a moment,’ Lady Edwina murmured under her breath. ‘Why does my cousin send a junior officer to escort us? Is he too grand now to greet us himself?’

‘He’s taking refreshment with the King.’ Hugh Macbride offered Lady Edwina his arm. ‘He begs leave to apologize in person.’

‘The King, you say?’ Interest lit Lady Edwina’s eyes as she turned to Willow. ‘Make sure you mind your manners if you are lucky enough to be presented. It would be unwise to be frivolous in his Majesty’s presence.’

‘I do not need reminding, Grandmother. She lowered her lashes to hide the flare of rebellion in her eyes.

The blue and white striped marquee reserved for guests of the regiment was hot and crowded. She stood meekly whilst pleasantries were exchanged with Lady Edwina’s tall, gruff cousin, though it was hard to ignore the handsome, young officer, who seized every opportunity to engage her eyes. Eventually, the general barked an order at him and he scurried off to fetch refreshments. The smell of humanity was suffocating against her nostrils. The marquee was ablaze with a crush of silk and velvet. Men talked loudly, women smiled and nodded and eyed each other’s diamonds and frills.

She had seen two children huddled together outside a silversmith’s that morning. Gaunt of cheek and hollow-eyed, they’d held out grimy hands to beg for coins. The shopkeeper had set about them with a stick.

Suddenly, Willow hated London—its squalor, its fogs and the poor spilling like rats from the filthy alleys. Her mind drifted back to Coringal Estate, and a childhood free of restraint.

She sighed, longing to feel her horse gathering its muscles together between her thighs as she put it to a jump. She craved the soft Irish mist against her face, damp grass beneath her feet and the experience of coming home at dusk to see Coringal—once the exiled home of her paternal grandmother—waiting with shabby gentility to welcome her home. Summer at Coringal had been a delightful profusion of flowers amongst the green wooded hills, and soft perfumed air. Winter there had brought cold to battle with, and days of hunger. But although her body had often gone without warmth and comfort, her mind had been kept nourished—and she’d never had to beg.

Her tutor had always been by her side offering his guidance. James Langland had filled her mind with knowledge, encouraged her dreams and embellished them with his own as a natural progression of their relationship. Together, they’d created adventures. Coringal was blessed with a library, and James had brought out the maps so they could travel the world together.

When she was not studying they were out in the countryside. She’d learned how to trap and skin a rabbit, and how to catch fish with her bare hands. James had taught her to shoot a pistol. One day, when they’d been bored and restless, he’d introduced her to the art of fencing. She’d proved to be an adept pupil, earning the praise of the laconic James.

A hungry ache gathered in her heart. Dearest James, where are you now—and why have you not written to me in all this time?

‘Willow!’
An urgent hiss brought out of her reverie. Catching a glimpse of a pasty-faced man with a bulbous nose she instinctively followed the older woman’s example and dropped a deep curtsy.

King George the second was older than she expected, at least seventy. She wondered if the rumors she’d heard about his many mistresses were true. He didn’t appear all that attractive to her.

‘Charming. You may rise.’

‘Lady Sommersley, sire. My cousin’s ward, and wife to her grandson, Viscount Sommersley.’

‘Sommersley?’ The King inclined his head towards General Marriot as if trying to remember something and enlisting his aide for the purpose.

‘He’s Earl Lytton’s heir. Lady Sommersley is the daughter of Marquis Lynchcross.’

‘Ah yes. I must exchange a word with him. Bring him and his delightful stepdaughter to me when they arrive.’ The king’s glance absently washed over her. ‘She’s so young and so fresh and pretty. Your husband is a lucky man, my dear.’

Her cheeks dimpled into a rosy blush. ‘Thank you, your Majesty.’ She breathed a sigh of relief when the king turned back to Lady Edwina.

‘The General informs me you plan to travel to Dorset shortly. The roads are hazardous these days. Some of our regiment is travelling to Dorchester before too long. We will advise the General to arrange an escort. It will save you the expense of hiring outriders.’ One nod and he passed on down the line, their faces and names already a fading memory.

‘You didn’t tell me we were going to the country, Grandmother.’ She gently fluttered her eyelashes at Hugh Macbride, who was weaving through the crush with a glass of lemonade clutched in each hand. ‘It will be nice to leave London.’

‘I decided quite recently.’ Crossly, Lady Edwina watched the young officer walk towards them. ‘You’re flirting quite shamefully. Discourage the young man or I’ll box your ears and send him packing myself.’

‘I see no harm in it’ Spreading her fan in a graceful arc, Willow applied her gaze to the crowd. A middle-aged man whose paunch hung low over his breeches winked at her. She stared back haughtily.

‘Lieutenant Macbride is like all soldiers,’ Edwina said softly. ‘His manoeuvres have only one purpose away from the battlefield, and that is to conquer the prize a woman holds between her thighs.
That,
my dear, belongs to your husband.’

‘
Grandmother!’
Willow fanned vigorously at the rosy blush that appeared on her cheeks. ‘You who cite modesty as a virtue should not speak to me of such pursuits.’

‘Bah!’
Edwina exclaimed, quite gratified by the shock in Willow’s voice. It wasn’t often she could get the better of her these days. ‘Tell me you do not lie abed and imagine the time when your husband pleasures you in such a way.’

‘Indeed, I do not know to what you refer.’ Willow blushed even more furiously. ‘I’m ignorant regarding marital relations.’

‘For your own sake, I pray you remain so until your husband returns,’ Edwina said tartly.

Further conversation was forestalled by the arrival of Hugh Macbride, He handed them each a lemonade. ‘Would you care to stroll amongst the trees, Lady Sommersley?’ he said, giving her a dazzling smile. ‘You look flushed. I fear the heat in the marquee is too much for you.’

‘Lady Sommersley is stronger than she looks.’ Edwina glanced over his shoulder and spotted Marquis Lynchcross accompanied by his nephew, Eduard, and Daphne de Vere. She smiled at the misery on Daphne’s face. That would teach her for marrying that Lynchcross whelp and making a fool of her Gerard.

‘Excuse us, Lieutenant,’ she purred. ‘We have our respects to pay to Lady Sommersley’s father.’

Willow began to tremble when Lady Edwina took her arm and led her through the crowd. She’d not met her father since her marriage, and had no wish to. ‘Please do not make me pay my respects, for truth to tell, I have none.’

Edwina ignored her plea. ‘You cannot go through life avoiding the man.’ The girl was as white as a spring snowdrop, and had it not been too late, because the marquis had already seen them, she would have had second thoughts.

‘You need not say anything more than necessary to him. I’d be obliged if you would engage Daphne de Vere in conversation. I hear she gave birth to a child within a year of her marriage. You can enquire about the brat whilst I tackle the marquis about your dowry. The negotiations have gone on too long.’

‘I want nothing from him.’ Willow wished Lady Edwina would drop the matter of a dowry. ‘It’s bad enough that I inherited his bloodline.’

‘Your wants do not come into it. A settlement is due, and I intend to obtain it for my grandson.’ Edwina patted her ward’s hand. ‘And you, my dear child, are entitled to your marriage portion. I intend to be tenacious about the matter. If it’s not resolved soon I’ll petition His Majesty.’

Several people gave Lady Edwina an interested glance and sidled closer when she neared the Marquis. Eyes narrowing, the marquis brushed his lips across the gloved fingers she offered.

The face of the marquis was pitted by pox. His lips twisted into a permanent sneer. A slight deformity in his calf gave the man a twisted gait that added to the legend that he was a dangerous man without conscience.

The legend was not without substance. He’d triumphed on the dueling field, and whispers circulated about certain activities he and his associates indulged in.

Half-hidden by Edwina’s larger form, Willow would have stayed there if her cousin Eduard had not taken her hand and dragged her out. She shuddered when he smiled, recoiling from the stale smell of his breath. Daphne de Vere, whom she’d met briefly before their marriages, deserved her sympathy. Daphne shrugged as they exchanged a glance, her lips twitching into an oddly ironic smile.

‘My little cousin has grown beautiful, has she not?’ Eduard wore a gold waistcoat embroidered all over with green vine leaves. His coat and breeches were scarlet satin. Powder from his high-dressed wig scattered his shoulders.

Brought to the attention of her father, Willow shrank involuntarily from the scrutiny of his astute pale eyes. She managed a strained smile. He couldn’t harm her now, she told herself. She belonged to Gerard, who was honor bound to defend her from hurt and insult.
Yet she did not want her husband to die on her account.
Her smile faded and she briefly curtsied.

‘She resembles her mother, does she not?’ Edwina’s voice adopted a slightly malicious tone. ‘Marietta was about the same age when you took her in marriage, if I recall.’

The marquis’s tongue flicked at his lips. ‘Let’s hope the resemblance ends there. The woman dabbled in the black arts.’

Willow took a fearful step backwards at the hatred in his expression.

‘I have decided the question of dowry. I’ll send round the deeds to Coringal.

‘And her marriage portion?’

‘Five hundred guineas.’

‘The amount is an insult. Fifteen thousand and her mother’s jewelry,’ Edwina said firmly.

‘We will not quibble in public, madam.’ The marquis glanced at the listening bystanders. Recognizing one who was close to the king he capitulated grudgingly. ‘There are one or two trinkets the girl can have and I’ll agree to twelve thousand guineas. I’ll probably win it back at the gaming tables over the next month.’