How to Tame a Beastly Lord (Happy Ever Regency Book 2) Read online

  Milly chuckled. “You mean, free to fly wherever they please.”

  Laughing, Eugenie nodded, and warmth flooded her at the sight of Milly’s joy. Only a year had passed since she’d married the girl’s father, but Milly had quickly won her heart with her exuberance and zest for life.

  Her husband’s first wife had died three years earlier in a carriage accident, and when Eugenie had come to Wentford Park, little Milly had been starved for the affections of a mother. Eugenie, in turn, had been more than willing to attempt to fill that void as her own life had left her without family as well. In a way, they had been made for one another.

  While her own mother had died in childbirth, Eugenie had lost her brother and father only shortly before accepting Lord Wentford’s proposal. From one day to the next, her entire world had fallen apart. Never had she been alone before. Always had there been someone to ensure that she would be fine. Her father, though set in his ways, had adored her, assuring her that she would have free rein over her heart. However, when he had passed on shortly after losing his only son to the war with France, Eugenie had found herself in the care of an unfeeling guardian, who had been determined to see her married with the utmost haste. There had been no one left to fight for her as her father’s title had gone to an unknown relative in America.

  Someone she didn’t know.

  Someone she’d never met.

  Someone who didn’t care about her.

  Never in her life had Eugenie felt more helpless. To her surprise and relief, Lord Wentford had somehow sensed her misery, her despair. He had asked her to dance, and his kind moss-green eyes had looked down into hers. “You seem out of sorts,” he had observed, a hint of a question clinging to his tone. “Is there anything I can do?”

  From the first, Eugenie had felt safe with him and, to this day, she considered herself fortunate to have him as her husband…even though she could see each and every day that his heart still beat for his late wife.

  Footsteps echoed over from down the hall, and then the door opened and the dowager countess strode in, the same haughty look in her eyes she always bore. “Have you heard from Wentford?” she inquired as her gaze fastened on her granddaughter. “Has he sent word?”

  “I have not.” Although her husband was kind to her in every way, Eugenie knew well that she was far from his confidante. She only knew what he chose to share with her, and she could not say where he had gone, only that he had been absent these past few days.

  “He has not returned yet,” Milly exclaimed as she set aside her embroidery, her little legs suddenly twitching with the need to move. “I’ve been looking through my telescope all morning and did not see him.” A satisfied grin rested on her lips as she offered the knowledge she had acquired.

  Unfortunately, instead of praise, her grandmother only offered reproach. “It is not proper to spy on others,” she chided Milly, oblivious to the dimming light in the girl’s eyes. “You should never have received a telescope in the first place. I shall speak to your father upon his return.” Shaking her head, the dowager countess turned on her heel and marched from the room.

  Milly turned wide eyes to Eugenie. “Father will not take it from me, will he?”

  Smiling, Eugenie squeezed the little girl’s hands. “He will not,” she assured her stepdaughter. “He knows how much you love it. He would never take anything from you.”

  Heaving a deep sigh of relief, Milly skipped toward the door. “I’ll be in the fortress,” she called over her shoulder, referring to the tree house her father had had built for her in the back of Wentford Park’s lush gardens. “I’ll let you know if I see Father returning.” And then Milly was out the door, humming a soft melody as her little feet carried her toward her next adventure.

  Smiling, Eugenie wished that she, too, possessed her stepdaughter’s carefree spirit for despite the dowager countess’ frequent scowl, Milly’s zest for life could not be diminished. She had come a long way from the sad little girl she had been upon Eugenie’s arrival at Wentford Park, and Eugenie could not deny that she was proud to have made such a difference in Milly’s life. They’d each been in need of the other, and she knew well that it had been the very reason her husband had chosen to marry her.

  Lord Wentford had needed a mother for his child, not a wife. Although his mother disagreed, stressing the importance of an heir to his title, Eugenie’s husband seemed to care very little for the continuation of his line. All he seemed to care about was Milly.

  Rising to her feet, Eugenie strolled over to the window and looked out at her home’s extensive gardens, just now coming into bloom. Indeed, she had made the right decision in accepting Lord Wentford’s proposal. He was a kind and considerate man, and he treated her with the utmost dignity and respect. Eugenie could not deny that she cared about him and, in the past year, she had come to feel at home at Wentford Park.

  Still, a small part of her longed for more, longed for the kind of love her husband had shared with his first wife. A love that did not even end in death. A love that lit up the room and brightened each and every day.

  A love that if lost cast one into darkness for all the days to come.

  Eugenie was certain that her husband cared about her. He simply was the kind of man who cared about others. However, she also knew that he would never love her, and so perhaps it was as well that she had not lost her heart to him, either. What pained her every now and then was simply the thought that she might want to, that she could have…if things had been different.

  Sighing, Eugenie felt her hand rise and gently come to rest on her midsection. A part of her could not help but regret that she would never know love, and yet, at the same time, her life was settled. She was safe once more and had a wonderful family to care for. A family that was about to grow by one.

  For a short while now, Eugenie had suspected that she was with child. However, only two days ago, Dr. Daniels had confirmed her suspicions. Since then, she’d been waiting for her husband to return so she could share her good news with him. Would he be happy? Would he welcome another child? Heir or not?

  The dowager countess, of course, would hope for a son while Eugenie could not shake the feeling that her husband would love nothing more but another daughter to dote upon. Or would it not be the same as it was with Milly? Did he dote on her in such an utterly devoted way because she was her mother’s daughter? The woman he had loved and lost?

  The only time her husband ever seemed content was when he spent time with his daughter. More than once, Eugenie had seen a deeply wistful look in his eyes and she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Milly resembled her mother in many ways. It always brought a desperate longing to her husband’s eyes, and she knew that the loss of his wife still pained him as much as it had three years ago.

  The first Countess of Wentford had to have been a rare woman to have captured her husband’s heart so completely, and Eugenie could not deny that she envied her that experience. What she wouldn’t give to have someone look at her the way her husband had looked at his first wife!

  But she had made her choice and would never know.

  Ravengrove

  Adrian did not know how long he had been standing here, in the middle of the burned-out room, his gaze sweeping over the blackened ceiling and charred walls. Although he had returned from France almost two years ago, he still felt like an intruder in his own home.

  Home.

  The word had lost its meaning many years ago, the night his family had lost their lives.

  A mild echo still remained of the joy that had once lived within these walls. Every once in a while, Adrian could still hear their laughter, hear his mother’s melodious voice and his father’s words thick with emotion as he whispered endearments to the woman he loved. Adrian could still hear his brothers’ vibrant shouts and cheers as they went about their day.

  Never had Ravengrove known silence.

  Never.

  At least not until that fateful day eight years ago.

  Now, it was quiet. Too quiet. Almost like a tomb as though no living soul had remained. The servants went about their tasks as though they were ghosts and their feet did not touch the ground. They were quiet and almost invisible, their eyes downcast and their heads bent. A dark gloom lingered upon the old castle that had been his family’s ancestral home for many generations. Adrian often felt alone in Ravengrove with not a soul in sight.

  Still, it was how he wanted it.

  Stepping up to the window, Adrian gazed at the unchanged scenery. Sometimes when his heart ached with almost unbearable longing, he would stand here and pretend that no time had passed, that his family was still here, somewhere on the grounds, alive and well. Tears filled his eyes as they swept over the dense forest bordering on the castle on one side and the fast-rushing river snaking its way through the countryside on the other. Sharp rocks jutted out of the ice-cold water, and he remembered the many times he and his brothers had dared each other to find a way across.

  One summer long ago, one of his brothers, Florian, had lost his footing and had been swept away by the current. The wild waters had flung him from side to side, and his head had collided hard with one of the boulders. He had lost consciousness then and been pulled under water.

  Fear had gripped them all, freezing their limbs, their eyes wide open in shock. Unable to move, they’d watched as their father had jumped into the current after his son…and managed to pull him to safety.

  Afterwards, their father had been furious with them, growling at them for their foolishness. Still, even then, Adrian had seen that his father’s anger had been fueled by fear rather than disappointment. He’d wanted them to remember the panic that had gripped them, to remember what could have happened, to always think before they acted. It had been a valuable lesson, and yet, it had not saved his family’s lives that night.

  Always had they stood shoulder to shoulder, embarking on all their adventures together, as one. Only that night, fate had had a different path in mind, whisking away Adrian’s family and leaving him behind to mourn their passing.

  A determined knock sounded on the charred door behind him, and Adrian quickly wiped the mist from his eyes. He did not bother to answer for he knew without a doubt who it was for there was only one person in Ravengrove who dared intrude upon him here.

  In the west wing.

  Where his family had met their end.

  As expected, the door creaked open on old hinges a moment later and dainty footsteps approached from behind. “Bonjour!” Isabelle greeted him with her usual effervescence. The delicate, young woman was stubborn like a mule and despite the hardships she, too, had suffered, she simply wanted to be cheerful. It was maddening!

  “I trust you slept badly, my lord,” she teased, her thick French accent slightly drowned out by the cluttering of silverware and dishes as she placed the tray she had been carrying on the heavy table in the center of the room and began setting up his breakfast. “It’s a beautiful day. You ought to go outside.”

  Turning from the window, Adrian glowered at her. “Leave!” he hissed as her cheerful voice broke open the wounds that still pained him as they had since the day fate had cut into his flesh. Into his heart. “Out with you!”

  Standing up straight, Isabelle merely shook her head at him, completely unimpressed by the dark stare he bestowed upon her. Most people sought to put as much distance as humanly possible between him and themselves. Most people had the good sense to do so.

  But not Isabelle.

  “Must you be so rude?” she inquired, like a mother chiding her child. Her blue eyes filled with reproach, and her blond curls danced from side to side as she once more shook her head. “You need to eat, n’est-ce pas? Correct me if I’m wrong.”

  “That is not your concern!” Adrian snapped as he stalked toward her. “I ordered all of you to keep your distance from this place. No one is to enter!” His voice was menacing, and he drew up to his full height, towering above her like a giant.

  Still, she did not flinch. Did not take a step back. Her blue eyes held his for a long while before a smile teased her lips. “Now, you can yell and rant all you like, my lord, but Mrs. Perry says you need to eat.” The small smile spread into a wide grin. “And I’m not fool enough to cross that woman.”

  Adrian hung his head in defeat. But a small spark of amusement ignited somewhere deep inside and warmed him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long while.

  Despite his reputation as the Beast of Ravengrove, tiny Isabelle saw no reason to fear him. Instead, she did not dare cross his housekeeper, Mrs. Perry, a small, rotund woman, who always carried a wooden kitchen spoon wherever she went…just in case.

  As a boy, Adrian had felt that spoon now and then when he had trudged through his mother’s flower beds or stolen biscuits from the kitchen. Mrs. Perry had scolded him until his ears had burned, and it would seem that no one and nothing could stop that woman from ruling his life even today.

  “You know that if you refuse to eat,” Isabelle continued, her blue eyes luminous as she looked up at him, “she will spoon-feed you.” A large grin appeared on her face at the thought. “Promise you will fetch me if that happens for I would not want to miss it.”

  “Out!” Adrian growled, unwilling to allow that feeling of warmth to linger. He needed to keep his distance, in heart and mind, or he feared that the curse would claim another victim. Death walks with you. Not a day passed that Adrian did not hear the old fortune teller’s voice in his dreams, reminding him of the price he had already paid.

  First, his family.

  And then Emery.

  If he allowed others back into his life, who would be next? He glanced down at the bloodstained ribbon he had worn since the day his friend had secretly slipped it around his wrist. Although he had been furious at first, Emery’s death had only left behind sorrow and pain and guilt, and they gnawed at him daily.

  The soft touch of Isabelle’s hand against his cheek startled Adrian from his thoughts, and he found her blue eyes looking up into his. “You cannot take responsibility for all that happens in the world,” she told him. He could see a silent tear form in the corner of her eye. Still, her will to continue on forced it back. “You did what you could, and that is enough. No one can ask more.” Then she stepped back and turned toward the door, her quiet footsteps barely audible in the large room. At the blackened door, she stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, and her eyes once more held mirth. “Eat,” she told him, “or else…”

  Then she slipped out into the hall and her soft chuckle echoed along the long corridor as she made her way back into the part of the castle where life still existed—however quiet.

  Adrian swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. A part of him knew that she was right, that the thought of a curse was ludicrous. Life was life, and it did what it wanted. Sometimes people found happiness, and sometimes utter heartbreak. Still, a life lived in fear was a life wasted.

  Sinking onto the chair, Adrian absentmindedly began to eat as his thoughts returned to the one question that had been plaguing him for years. What was he to do?

  By now, he doubted that he was meant to die any time soon. Too often had he been snatched back from the jaws of Death. It didn’t seem to want him, only those around him. Those he cared for. Or was it merely a coincidence? Did he dare test that theory? Did he dare risk someone else’s life?

  Glancing down, Adrian found the plate in front of him to be empty—Mrs. Perry would be pleased—however, he could not remember what he had eaten or how it had tasted. All his senses, which did not serve to keep him alive, to allow him to cheat Death time and time again, seemed dulled and almost ineffective.

  Death didn’t want him, but neither did Life.

  For a long time now, Adrian had merely existed, but not lived, and he knew that it was that distinction that Isabelle had been trying to make. He knew it well, but he knew not what to do about it. He was a man neither dead nor alive, and he wondered if he would be forced to exist in this limbo until the end of his days? Until Death finally did choose to claim him?

  When would that be?

  That day could not come soon enough.

  Chapter Two

  A Fallen Woman

  Wentford Park

  After running wild in the gardens for the better part of the morning—much to her grandmother’s displeasure—Milly had finally settled down in the back drawing room, her embroidery in hand. Eugenie sat beside her, now and then offering advice on how best to copy the delicate lines of the leaf Milly had brought in from outside when the door swung silently open.

  While Milly’s head remained bent over her work, her small forehead creased in concentration, Eugenie glanced up and her heart skipped a beat when her husband stepped across the threshold after four days of unexplained absence.

  His chocolate brown hair was disheveled and, even now, he was running a hand through the dark strands, tugging hard as though needing to remind himself that he was awake. Tension clung to his handsome features, and his moss-green eyes were distant as they stared at Milly the way they did so often. Still, today, something different lurked in his gaze, and Eugenie felt a strange sense of foreboding run down her back in cold shivers.

  “Ouch!”

  At Milly’s exclamation of pain, Eugenie’s head swiveled back to her stepdaughter and she gently pulled her into her arms, examining the finger that had met the needle’s pointy end. “Hush, little one, it was only a small prick. See? There’s no blood. Try again.”

  “It looks beautiful,” the girl’s father said from the door before he strode forward, undeniable joy suddenly clinging to his features.

  “You’re back!” Milly exclaimed, her embroidery all but forgotten as she jumped to her feet and flung herself into her father’s arms. It was a beautiful moment, one of many that had helped Eugenie feel at home in her new family.

  “Welcome home, my lord.” She greeted her husband with the same kindness that always existed between them. Still, she could feel the distance that lingered and wondered if it would remain for the rest of their lives together.