How to Tame a Beastly Lord (Happy Ever Regency Book 2) Page 6

  Quickly, they made their way back to the keep. Upon their approach, the large double-doors swung open invitingly and to Adrian’s horror, he found Ravengrove’s servants gathered in the main hall, waiting to be introduced to their new lady. Eagerness clung to their features as they stole glances at the young woman by his side.

  “Welcome to Ravengrove, my lady,” Hammond greeted her with a formal bow, his movements stiff and his face inexpressive as they always had been.

  Mrs. Perry, on the other hand, was joy itself. Her face glowed as she rushed forward and gave a quick curtsy, welcoming Adrian’s new bride with a warmth that, at least for the moment, stilled the soft tremble he could still feel in the hand resting upon his arm.

  An answering smile drew up the corners of Eugenie’s lips, and she looked at Mrs. Perry with gratitude in her eyes.

  Adrian felt no differently, and he gave Mrs. Perry an appreciative nod, hopeful that his trusted housekeeper would ensure that his new wife would come to feel at ease in this haunted place.

  Without prompting, Mrs. Perry went ahead and introduced the rest of Ravengrove’s staff, which was rather limited despite the size of the estate. However, since no guests ever crossed its threshold—after all, its master was as reclusive as anyone ever had been—there was no need to have countless servants at hand as there was comparatively little to do beside the upkeep of the estate.

  Adrian watched as his new wife exchanged a few words with Ravengrove’s servants. He caught Isabelle’s eyes before she glanced at Eugenie and then back at him. There was a teasing twinkle in her blue depths and the corners of her mouth curled up in a way that made him think she would comment on this development later on.

  Adrian groaned; something to look forward to.

  “Thank you,” Grant said, stepping up to him, the look on his face more serious than Adrian had ever seen it before. “Thank you for doing this. I trust that you will take good care of her…of them.”

  Adrian tensed. Had there been a hint of doubt in his friend’s voice? “I gave my word,” he growled under his breath.

  Grant’s eyes narrowed as they swept over his face. “I do not doubt you. I never would. I hope you know that.”

  Adrian inhaled a slow breath and gave a quick nod of the head.

  “I only meant to convey how grateful I am to you for doing this. You’re truly selfless.”

  Disgust swept through Adrian at his friend’s words. “You do not know the man I am today,” he grumbled as the muscles in his jaw hardened with the undeserved compliment.

  Grant sighed. “You are the man you’ve always been. Only for some reason, you’re trying to hide him now.” He took a step closer, his green eyes searching Adrian’s. “I know we drifted apart after…”

  Adrian nodded.

  “I left you alone because I thought it was what you wanted. But if you ever change your mind, I’m still your friend as I was then and always will be.”

  Adrian inhaled a slow breath as a familiar sense of camaraderie swept through him, bringing with it memories of happier days long gone. Days he could barely remember. Days he had not allowed himself to remember for many years now.

  “I’ve prepared a small luncheon,” Mrs. Perry exclaimed, startling Adrian from his thoughts. Standing beside his wife at the end of the line of servants, she gestured toward the breakfast parlor that hadn’t been used in years. “My lady, if you’ll follow me.”

  Adrian cursed under his breath, drawing his friend’s attention once more. “Come, let us eat something,” Grant said, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’ll give you the chance to speak to your new wife.”

  That was exactly what Adrian had wished to avoid. Still, he couldn’t simply leave, could he? And so, he stepped into the old breakfast parlor where he’d last sat surrounded by his family and took his seat at the head of the table…in his father’s chair.

  Ghosts seemed to swirl around him and, for a brief moment, Adrian closed his eyes, willing them away. If only for a moment so as not to frighten his new bride further.

  Seated beside him, Eugenie only ever glanced in his direction. Instead, her gaze lingered on Grant, a deep longing in her pale silver eyes that forced the air from Adrian’s lungs.

  Few words passed between them that day and, before long, Grant rose to take his leave. “If I want to make it back to Wentford Park before nightfall, I must depart now.”

  Adrian bid his friend a safe journey, and then watched as Eugenie stepped toward Grant. Her eyes were downcast and her hands trembled as she whispered a goodbye.

  Grant smiled at her; a smile that spoke of encouragement not of joy or happiness. He reached for her hands and squeezed them gently. “All will be well,” he told her once again, knowing as well as the rest of them that there was nothing more to say. “Goodbye, my lady.”

  A moment later, Grant strode from the room, leaving them behind, alone for the first time.

  As the echo of his footsteps slowly vanished, Eugenie turned to face her new husband. Her features looked tense, and her eyes only reluctantly rose to meet his. Then she stepped toward him, her hands folded before her as though to keep him at bay.

  The terror in her eyes made Adrian feel sick, and his muscles tightened painfully in order to keep his calm.

  “My lord,” she finally addressed him, her eyes not quite on his, “I haven’t yet had the opportunity to thank you…for what you did…for me.” She swallowed, and he could see the pulse hammering in her neck. “I promise I shall do my utmost to settle into this household and not disrupt it. I shall strive to be a…good wife and…and…”

  Her cheeks had gone so pale that Adrian feared she might faint on the spot. “There’s no need,” he interrupted her, his voice harsher than it ought to be. “I grant you free rein of the house, more specifically the east wing. Do as you wish. I only ask that you do not set foot into the west wing.” He swallowed. “We had a fire there a few years back, and it has not yet been restored.” Not that he had any plans to ever have it restored. “Good day, my lady.” He gave her a courteous nod and then strode toward the door, eager to leave her presence as well as the panic that stood in her soft eyes.

  Emery would have been furious with him, and in that moment, the small ribbon Adrian had hidden inside his sleeve felt like an iron shackle, weighing him down.

  “My lord?” came her soft, melodious voice, weak and barely audible.

  Stopping in his tracks, Adrian inhaled a deep breath, then turned to face her.

  When his eyes met hers, she instantly dropped her gaze to the floor, her fingers now fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. She swallowed hard before her eyes rose to touch upon his for the barest of moments as she gathered her courage to speak.

  Adrian frowned, wondering what it was that brought her such unease. He had hoped she would appreciate his hasty departure and find relief in his absence. What else could possibly be on her mind?

  “My lord, I wished to ask…that is, I…I…” Her breathing quickened, and her cheeks flushed a dark red, erasing the paleness that had been there a moment before. She bit her lip then and closed her eyes before her chin rose and her gaze sought his with new determination. “Am I to…expect you in my chamber tonight?”

  Adrian’s eyes narrowed as her meaning slowly dawned on him, explaining the terror he had seen in her eyes. Disbelief rushed through him, and he silently cursed his friend for not having set her at ease. Had Grant not spoken to him of a pro forma marriage? Had he failed to mention that aspect to Eugenie?

  At the sight of his thunderous eyes, his new wife all but flinched, misinterpreting the origin of his anger. Wanting to set her at ease, Adrian started toward her, but immediately she shrank back, eyes wide with fear, heart pounding—if the rapidly beating pulse in her neck was any indication.

  Stilling his feet, Adrian swallowed, his shoulders tense as he fought the anger that had risen so abruptly. It turned his stomach to see her so frightened of him. Although he was aware of the whispers, knew that people referred to him as the Beast of Ravengrove, no one had ever run from him. His servants might quit a room when he entered, however, never had he seen actual fear in their eyes. Unease, perhaps; which was not unreasonable considering that he could under no circumstances be deemed good company. “My lady,” he addressed her, trying to remain calm, “I assure you you have nothing to fear in this house.”

  Her lower lip trembled before she clamped her mouth shut. At least she was no longer retreating. Her eyes were wide, but merely watchful.

  “Our marriage is one in name only,” he told her, noting the way her breathing calmed, “and so long as you stay in the east wing, we need not see each other at all.” After a long moment, he once more inclined his head to her and then walked away.

  Eager to leave.

  Desperate to be alone.

  Chapter Six

  Ghosts

  Staring after her new husband, Eugenie finally managed to swallow the lump that had settled in her throat upon entering the small chapel. Her hands still trembled, and a cold chill slowly made its way down her body. Her heartbeat, however, calmed little by little, easing her breathing as she held on to his words.

  Had he meant what he’d said?

  When Lord Wentford had spoken to her about this arrangement, about his intention to see her wed to his oldest friend, Eugenie had been too embarrassed to ask for details. The thought alone had terrified her, causing her sleepless nights as she had pondered what it would mean to wed the Beast of Ravengrove. What would he expect of her? What kind of arrangement had Lord Wentford made with him?

  Still, all men bedded their wives even when the match was one of convenience and not love. Even Lord Wentford had come to her bed in order to father an heir and give her the child she’d always wanted. Nevertheless, Eugenie had been painfully aware that he had only ever come to her with great reluctance as his late wife’s memory had still been imprinted upon his heart and soul. He had been kind and considerate, but never…

  Eugenie sighed, wishing she had any inkling what it felt like to share something so intimate with someone she loved, someone who loved her.

  But that would never happen; Eugenie had known so for a while. While her first husband had given his heart away long before meeting her, her husband of only an hour seemed unable to muster even a shred of compassion. Too well did she remember his pale blue eyes, the harshness etched into his features. He didn’t want her here, Eugenie was certain of it; and yet, he had agreed to marry her. Why?

  As she had nothing to offer him and he had now even assured her of his intention not to visit her in her bedchamber, it seemed the only reason he had agreed to marry her was as a favor to his friend.

  A small measure of relief bloomed in Eugenie’s heart at the memory of his promise. Would they truly live separate lives? He in the west wing, and she in the east wing?

  A memory flashed before her eyes, and only now as her heart beat calmly did she take note of the spark of pain in those hard blue eyes when he had said, We had a fire there a few years back. It seemed like a simple enough sentence as though only property had been damaged. Something hardly worth mentioning. However, Eugenie knew that more had happened that night. She didn’t know any details, but she knew that he had lost his family that night. Was that what had hardened him so? Did he still suffer, remembering their loss and imagining what could have been had that night gone differently?

  Once again, Eugenie found her thoughts straying from her own lot in life to his and her heart grew heavy at the thought of what had happened in this house. Of what had happened to him. Who had he been before the beast had been born out of pain and loss?

  Would she ever know?

  Sighing, Eugenie glanced around the small parlor, wondering about the place Ravengrove had once been when a family had still lived here. Her steps carried her out into the hall as she looked about her new home. Everything was clean and orderly…but quiet. Too quiet. With only a handful of servants in employ, the stately fortress seemed empty, and Eugenie knew that it needed no stretch of imagination to see ghosts floating in the dark corners. Even now, she could feel a presence nearby, and the little hairs in the back of her neck rose as she glanced around, seeing nothing and no one.

  Only emptiness.

  An empty house.

  An empty life.

  Eugenie shivered, and her heart yearned for her stepdaughter’s cheerful laughter, for the pitter-patter of her little feet as she raced from room to room, mischief lighting up her eyes. Despite the lingering loss of Lord Westford’s first wife, joy and laughter had existed at Wentford Park. Here, Eugenie felt only an oppressive sense of doom.

  Would she ever be happy here? Would her child?

  Judging from the look on her new husband’s face, Eugenie doubted that Ravengrove had heard any laughter in recent years. Still, the memory of Mrs. Perry’s glowing face brought some ease to Eugenie’s heart. She had liked the rotund housekeeper instantly and wondered at the long wooden spoon tucked into her belt. The way the old woman had looked at his lordship had spoken of many years shared in this house, and Eugenie wished she knew more about the people under this roof.

  Remembering the hesitant eagerness and silent joy on the servant’s faces, Eugenie realized that it was not doom or darkness that lingered in this house, but pain instead. Pain that had not been eased in all those years. Pain still as raw and agonizing as it had been years ago.

  Despite his reputation as a beast, Lord Remsemere seemed to be held in high esteem by his servants. Eugenie had seen the quick glances and delicate smiles as they’d beheld her, as they’d looked from her to him as though they’d wished for nothing more but to voice their happiness for their master.

  Again, Eugenie reminded herself that if Lord Remsemere was not a good man, Lord Wentford would never have arranged the match. No matter his reputation, she owed him her good will and open mind. After all, so far, he had been nothing but considerate of her…if a bit solemn.

  Fine; very solemn, if truth be told. But—

  Footsteps echoed to Eugenie’s ears, and her feet froze, her eyes wide as she glanced about the large hall.

  “A child,” she whispered, certain that she would recognize the sound anywhere, as a memory sparked in her mind of the small, dark-haired boy she’d spotted outside, peeking around a side building. “Hello? Is anyone there?” Her voice sounded hollow in the vaulted room, and a shiver ran down her back as, unbidden, her mind strayed to the rumors speaking of ghosts roaming the dark castle.

  Then a door fell closed somewhere down one of the side corridors leading eastward, and Eugenie flinched. Her hand flew to her chest, and she drew in a sharp breath, feeling her heart hammering under her palm. Her head jerked around as more footsteps echoed to her ears; these, however, were not those of a child, and before long, a young woman stepped into the hall.

  Slender in build, she walked with purpose, her chin slightly raised and her gaze undaunted. As she beheld Eugenie, her blue eyes widened and, after a short moment of surprise, she hastened toward her, her golden curls bouncing with each quick step. “My lady, you look lost,” she observed correctly, her gaze sweeping over the large hall as though to see if anyone else lingered nearby. Then her eyes returned to meet Eugenie’s and a kind smile drew up the corners of her lips. “Do not worry yourself, my lady,” she continued, a heavy French lilt accentuating her words, “I myself have gotten lost in this house countless time.” A carefree laugh spilled from her mouth, giving her features a warm glow. “But I forget my manners.” Giving a quick curtsy, she smiled up at Eugenie. “I’m Isabelle. His lordship asked me to attend to you and ensure that you’d have everything you need.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Isabelle,” Eugenie replied, feeling the cold of the large hall recede at Isabelle’s joyous nature. Indeed, the young woman was like a light in the dark, and Eugenie was grateful to her new husband for sending her this delightful creature. Very considerate of him, indeed! Perhaps there was more to him than met the eye, Eugenie mused, reminding herself not to jump to conclusions.

  “I must say I’m delighted that you are here,” Isabelle trilled as she urged Eugenie to fall into step beside her. Together, they began to climb the large staircase that went halfway up to the next floor before splitting in half, each side winding upward. “It is a good sign, indeed.”

  “A good sign?” Eugenie asked, surprised by the unrestrained way Isabelle prattled on…as though they’d been friends for years and were in each other’s confidence. As though they were friends, and not Eugenie the new lady of the house and Isabelle a lady’s maid…presumably.

  Stopping mid-step, Isabelle sighed, her features darkening.

  Instantly, it felt as though the sun had dropped from the sky, and Eugenie found herself wishing she hadn’t said a word.

  “This is a dark place,” Isabelle said, her blue eyes burdened as they swept over the vaulted hall. “A place full of sadness and sorrow.” She sighed, and her curls danced from side to side as she quickly shook her head as though trying to chase away a dream. “But that was long ago, and it is time to look toward the future.” Instantly, the old spark returned to her eyes and her lips curved upward. “His lordship did well to marry, and I hope that in the future joy will return to this house.”

  Eugenie swallowed, not knowing what to say. While Isabelle’s assessment of Ravengrove’s current atmosphere was undeniable, Eugenie felt awful for bringing false hope. Did her husband’s servants believe that by marrying her he was moving on and leaving the past behind?

  After all, nothing could be further from the truth!

  Still, before Eugenie could say anything to caution the young woman in her rather unrestrained joy, the sound of little feet racing across parquet floors once more echoed to their ears. Eugenie’s head snapped up and, before she knew it, her feet carried her upward the last few steps to the upper floor. “Is there a child here?” she asked, her ears trying to determine where the sound was coming from.

  Beside her, Isabelle chuckled. “That is my son, Liam. He likes playing at ghosts.”