Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер

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       Prologue

      ‘Please do not do this,’ the handsome young cavalry officer begged, catching at the girl’s arm as she started to walk away. ‘If you marry him you will break my heart and I know he cannot make you happy, Madeline.’

      She blinked back her tears as she looked at him, her green eyes misty and filled with an appeal that caught at his heart. She was lovely, with her long, naturally wavy hair brushing her shoulders and her soft mouth that had always smiled for him. In her eyes he saw the love she had once declared beneath this very apple tree, but her words were cold and dismissive.

      ‘I pray you let go of my arm, sir. I have accepted the count’s proposal of marriage and the contract is signed. There is nothing I can do.’

      ‘Come away with me now,’ he said, breathing deeply as the wintry sunlight caught the red-gold of her hair. ‘If you are my wife, he can do nothing to prevent it. I know you love me...you swore it to me only last summer.’

      ‘In the summer things were different.’ She turned her beautiful face from him. ‘You do not understand, Hallam. It was all arranged and I...I am happy with my promise. The count is rich and will give me all the things I...require. Besides, I do not love you.’

      ‘You swore you would always love me. We kissed to seal our promise to each other and I was to speak to your father when I returned.’

      ‘You were away too long,’ she said, and her face was proud, cold and withdrawn. ‘And you have no money, Hallam. How can you expect me to share your poverty? If your father had not lost all his money gambling or...’ She pulled away from him, her face turned from his so that he could not read her expression. ‘I should not even have come to meet you. My father will be furious. Please go away now, Hallam...and do not bother me again with your unwanted attentions.’

      This time Hallam released his grip on her arm. ‘Bother you with my attentions? No, indeed, Miss Morris, I shall not. I believed your protestations of love and your lying smiles, but I was a fool. Run back to your father and your bridegroom-to-be and I wish you joy of him.’

      He turned and strode away, leaving her standing beneath the apple tree where they had promised undying love just a few short months earlier. Madeline stared after him, her pale face turned to stone and the tears slowly slipping down her cheeks.

      She longed with all her heart to call him back, but it was too late. She’d had no choice but to send him away, for her father had signed the contract despite her pleas to wait for Hallam’s return.

      ‘Even if he comes it will not serve,’ Sir Matthew said to his only daughter. ‘I am ruined, Maddie, and Lethbridge holds my notes. Would you see your mother and sister thrown on the parish—and me in my grave? I could not live with the shame if Lethbridge took everything. You are my only hope.’

      ‘But I do not love him!’

      ‘Foolish child,’ her father said. ‘Marriage and love have nothing to say to each other. Marry Lethbridge and live in the style you were meant to live, and, when you have given him his heir, he will probably tire of you and leave you to sleep alone. Perhaps then you may look elsewhere for love if you are discreet.’

      ‘Papa!’ Madeline stared at him in horror. She knew that it was often the case that both men and women looked for love outside marriage, but she had wanted something different. She had hoped for love—but how could she deny her father when he would be ruined if she refused the count’s offer? ‘Very well...if it is your wish.’

      ‘My dear good girl,’ her father said and kissed her brow. ‘I knew you would not let me down.’

      Madeline had had no choice, but pride would not let her tell Hallam that she had been the victim of emotional blackmail. She knew that he would not have understood that she must do her duty. No, it was best if he thought her heartless, but it had broken her heart to see the pain and disappointment in his eyes.

      ‘Oh, Hallam,’ she whispered as she turned to walk back through the meadows to her father’s house. ‘Oh, Hallam, I loved you so...’

      But she must put away all thought of love and do her duty. Madeline knew that the count was a jealous man and she sensed that he might be cruel if he were thwarted. She must try to make him a good wife, even though she was dead inside.

       Chapter One

      Hallam Ravenscar, now a major in His Majesty’s Own elite cavalry regiment, and the recipient of some half-a-dozen medals for gallantry on the field, straightened an imaginary crease in his immaculate coat of blue superfine and placed a diamond stickpin in the soft folds of his cravat. His short dark hair was brushed casually into a fashionable style and he looked the complete man about town, his eyes grey with a look of steel in them. Having returned to England after Napoleon was finally defeated to the shocking tragedy of his cousin Mark’s murder, he had played his part in the unmasking of an evil rogue. He was now in London to see his man of business and to purchase a wedding gift for his cousin Captain Adam Miller to Miss Jenny Hastings.

      A half-sigh left his lips for he had been urged by his lawyers and agents to consider marrying an heiress, too. Indeed, it must be marriage or the more drastic step of selling his late father’s estate, which was at present burdened with insupportable debt. His father had been a lifelong gambler and after the death of the wife he’d adored, he had plunged deeper and deeper into the abyss.

      Hallam had been fighting for his life in France when his father succumbed to a virulent fever and it was only on his return to England that he truly understood what awaited him.

      ‘You have little choice, sir,’ Mr Hatton, his father’s lawyer, told him. ‘Had your father lived he must have sold most of the estate but since his death I have had hard work of it to keep the bank from foreclosing. It would be better to sell than let them simply take the estate. That way you might save something.’

      Hallam knew that he was close to ruin. He had the small estate his maternal grandfather had left to him, but that was little more than a large farmhouse and some one hundred acres, most of which was let to tenants. Together with his pay, it had brought him sufficient income to sustain him as a cavalry officer, but was hardly enough to support a wife and family in style, unless he could find another source of income. Adam had invited him to come in as a partner with a wine-importing business, and Hallam had agreed. He would need to sell his commission and that would bring sufficient funds for a modest investment—but what of the future?

      His lawyer had made no bones about it. ‘Your mother was the youngest daughter of an earl, Major Ravenscar, and your father the younger son of an old and respected family. You do not at present have a title to offer, but I think you might find that the daughter of a rich merchant would welcome an offer.’

      ‘Good grief, you want me to sell myself?’

      Hallam had greeted the suggestion with horror and disgust, but in truth he could see very little alternative. He might make a fortune with Adam, but that was well into the future. In the meantime he had two choices, neither of which appealed.

      Damn it! He would not think about the problem of his estate tonight. He was engaged to meet some friends to dine, and from there they would go on to a card party at the house of Lord Devenish. He understood there would be some dancing after the musical recital for those that cared for it—nothing lavish, just a few couples standing up in the gallery.

      He picked up his swordstick and hat, gave himself another depreciating look and left his lodgings to keep the appointment. It was years since Hal had thought of marriage, being content to flirt mildly with charming young ladies and enjoy a friendly relationship with an obliging widow while on service in Spain and France.

      How