Read Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness Online
Authors: Deb Marlowe
Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness (8 page)
One hundred pieces of Portugese silver. They had been a gift from a wealthy family to the Englishmen who helped them, and someone had donated them to her mother’s cause. They were currently clean, polished and spread out upon the dining room table. Liberty picked up the thirty-ninth piece, a long handled spoon, and wrapped it in old linen. She placed it in a straw-packed crate and added a spread of newspaper over the full layer before starting another one.
Sighing, she glared at the tightly drawn drapes, but she didn’t bother getting up to open them. She was tired of fighting. It never got one anything, anyway.
The knocker sounded downstairs, but she kept wrapping. She didn’t stop until the forty-fifth piece, when she noticed Harris in the doorway, a newspaper clutched to her bosom and a strange look upon her face.
“Are those for the wrapping?” she asked the maid. “There’s a pile in the corner.”
“Mrs. Gardiner knocked, Miss. She brought you this.”
“Have we run so low of our own papers, then? Have we sent out for more?” It was a weak joke, but she was too tired for more.
“I think you’d better have a look.”
Liberty frowned. “Why?” She looked again at Harris’s face. “Oh—Felicity? She’s not up to that again?” She snatched up the paper. Yes. Another advert. It looked the same as the last ones. What was that girl doing? She folded it up to read it easier.
A Lady, of fine green eyes, with chestnut hair and a name that is only a bit silly, who gallantly threw herself onto the field of battle for the sake of a friend, is invited to meet her opponent at the hidden red door with the white lintel. He earnestly pledges to be there, to not be a remote, uncommunicative ass—and to humbly beg for her forgiveness. Please, lively lady, do keep the appointment. He promises never to disappoint her again.
By the end she could barely see through her tears.
“Liberty.”
She looked up. “Felicity! Is it true?”
“It is. He’s waiting. Let’s get you ready. And I’ve promised Peter that I will tell you a story while we work.”
Her eyes traveled past her friend. “He’s here?”
“No. He’s gone to find his former valet and plant him a facer.”
“He—what?”
Felicity waved a hand. “It’s all connected in some mysterious, manly fashion. I’ll tell you all while I brush the straw from your hair.”
Liberty nodded, pressed the paper to her bosom, and followed her friend upstairs.
“Thank God.”
Liberty rounded the corner from the lane behind Lady Ridgley’s townhouse. Brodham left his position by the door and rushed her. He grabbed her up and held her tight.
She clung for a long moment, then leaned back to grip his arms and meet his gaze. “Felicity told me a little about Peter’s father. Your brother.”
He nodded.
“I need to hear it from you.”
He squeezed her tight once more. “Yes. And I need to tell you. In a moment.” He buried his nose in her hair and breathed her in. Marveled at the fact that she was back in his arms. “Thank God,” he said again. “I can scarce believe you came.” He grinned down at her. “All I had to do was make a fuss. I know how you love a fuss. Especially in the name of—”
She stopped him with a finger pressed to his lips. “Tell me about your brother first,” she insisted. “But it won’t be that easy. I want to hear about you, too.”
“And so you shall. Come.” He opened the red door and guided her inside to the covered bench that sat before the ivy-draped wall. He sat beside her. Reaching out he touched her arm, her hand.
“Brodham,” she warned.
“Yes. My brother.” He took a couple of deep breaths, preparing himself. Then he gave a little shrug. “His name was Peter, as well. I loved him, you know. He was younger. A funny little thing. He used to love raisins. I could always find him when he was small because he left a trail of them behind him.”
“How sweet. I had a brother too, you know, but he died when he was just a baby.”
He squeezed her hand. But now that he was remembering, speaking it out loud, it felt as if he couldn’t stop. “Peter had headaches. Horrible pains that went on for days. Sometimes he had strange, violent streaks. He would upset the whole house with his rampages. After he turned five, they stopped for a while. We were all relieved, thinking he’d outgrown them.”
She nodded, encouraging.
“They came back later, after my father died. It was difficult at first, but he found something that helped. A hunting lodge that had belonged to my father. He would go there when the headache started and only return when it was all over.” He sighed. “Now I know that it was only better for us, not for him. He made it easy for us to forget. I left home. My mother relocated permanently to Town. It wasn’t until after he married that it became an issue again.”
“Felicity said he . . . hurt . . . Peter.”
“And Peter’s mother as well.” Brodham sighed. “I came home, once I heard of it and we had a huge row. I was furious. But he said it was growing worse, lasting longer. He could not control it. We consulted doctors and surgeons. He asked one of them if they couldn’t just drill a small hole in his head and let the evil out.”
She bit her lip, but he had to go on and tell it all.
“One day he left a note. He was going back to the lodge. After several days had passed, I went to check on him.” He paused. “It was gone. All of it. He’d taken it apart, board by board. Set fire to the remains. And he’d . . . destroyed himself.”
“I’m sorry.”
He heaved a sigh. “I didn’t grieve. I didn’t feel relief. Nothing. I just . . . tucked it all away. I took care of the details, reassured the women and I left as soon as I could. The distance I placed around those emotions—it just became a part of me. Who I was. How I handled things. It made things easier. It felt—”
“Safe,” she whispered.
“Until you came along.” He brushed a hand over her cheek and found a smile for her. “You pulled me in, drew me near, close enough to start feeling again.”
“Yes, you felt exasperation,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“That I did. And rivalry.” His smile grew. “Desire. Enchantment. With you, I just let it all go. I laughed at you and with you. I said things I never should have. I came alive again, and I remembered what
happy
felt like.”
“You weren’t happy that day in the maze.”
He rubbed his brow. “God no. I thought it was the end. I was wrought up and frustrated and then we . . . turned it to other kinds of heat. And I was gone. Lost. There was not a grain of logic or ounce of control involved.” He gave a dark chuckle. “It scared me—and made me furious. If Sir Benjamin had been on our side of the hedge, I might have clocked him.”
“I might have helped,” she said wryly.
“I’d shocked myself. Frightened myself. And when I heard the alarm go up, my first thought was that Peter had done the same.”
“Oh!” She caught her breath. “It’s no wonder, then, that you were so—”
“Horrid?”
“You were, you know.”
“It’s because I didn’t understand. That day all I could feel was fear because the control was gone. It wasn’t until
you
were gone that I understood. The control was nothing but a trap—and you had set me free.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
He kissed it away.
“But now we have a problem,” he told her.
She sighed. “Only one?”
“It’s a big one.”
She sighed. “I know. I’m not safe and I’m not comfortable. Or peaceful—or any of the things you’d hoped to come home to.”
He smiled and stroked a bit of hair back from her face. “No, my sweet, that is
not
the problem.”
She blinked up at him. “Then I am stumped.”
He laughed out loud. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of the opposite. I find that safe and peaceful are nothing but lonely and miserable. I need a bit of excitement, it would seem. But worse, the real problem is that I don’t know how to go about it. Though now I’m free, I’m still lost. I don’t know how to live out here, exposed and in the open. I’m a wreck. I can’t get anything done and I fear I’ve shocked and upset all of the servants at Cateswood.”
“Oh, dear. It does sound bad.”
“It is—and as you are responsible for this sorry state, I do believe you should be the one to fix it.”
“Do you?”
He settled both hands around her waist. “I do.”
“How shall I accomplish this?”
“It will take extreme measures, I’m sad to say. I fear you must marry me. Immediately. I need you, my dear, to show me how to chase happiness. And to teach me how to go on.”
“Is that all?”
“No. You must give up America and its tolerance for England and our pride. You’ll have to see to the order of my days.”
“Ah, but what of your nights?”
He placed a kiss upon her brow. “Those too. And the hardest task comes last.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“You must love me, I’m afraid.”
She pursed her lips and considered. “Can we still have the occasional battle?”
“As many as you like,” he promised.
She ducked her head. “And will you love me in return?”
He cupped her jaw and kissed her with all the tenderness in his heart. “I already do.”
“Then I suppose I will take you on.”
“Thank you, darling girl,” he whispered. “I put myself in your hands—and I know I’ll be safe at last.”
Thank you for reading
Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness
. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.
Would you like to know when the next book is released? You can sign up for my newsletter at
http://www.DebMarlowe.com
, like my Facebook page at
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Deb-Marlowe
/
or follow me on Twitter at @DebMarlowe.
This book is part of the Half Moon House Series. The other books available in the series are
The Love List
,
An Unexpected Encounter
,
A Slight Miscalculation
, and coming soon,
The Leading Lady
. I hope you’ll try and enjoy them all!
About the Author
Deb Marlowe adores History, England and Men in Boots. Clearly she was destined to write Regency Historical
Romance.
A Golden Heart Award winner and Rita nominee, Deb grew up in Pennsylvania with her nose in a book. Luckily, she'd read enough romances to recognize the true modern hero she met at a college Halloween party--even though he wore a tuxedo t-shirt instead of breeches and boots. They married, settled in North Carolina and produced two handsome, intelligent and genuinely amusing boys. Though she spends much of her time with her nose in her laptop, for the sake of her family she does occasionally abandon her inner world for the domestic adventure of laundry, dinner and carpool. Despite her sacrifice, not one of the men in her family is yet willing to don breeches or tall boots. She's working on it.
The Red Door Reads ‘Who’s Ben Skrewd?’ Novellas
What do you call eleven books ranging the spectrum of Romance, from Regency Historical to Contemporary, to Paranormal, Urban Fantasy and beyond, all releasing on April 15, 2014 (tax day!) and each featuring a Red Door and a mysterious figure named Ben Skrewd? You call it a novella series like none other, all from the fabulous writers at Red Door Reads!
Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness
by Deb Marlowe
A Half Moon House Series Novella
Hexed
by Andris Bear
A Deadly Sins Novella
Dances with Demons
by Lori Handeland
A Phoenix Chronicles Novella
Firebird
by Linda Winstead Jones
A Columbyana Novella
In the Stars
by Ava Stone
A Regency Encounter Novella
Her Muse, Lord Patrick
by Jane Charles
A Muses Novella
Cross Springs In Bloom
by Caren Crane
A Cross Springs Novella
The Earl’s Passionate Plot
by Susan Gee Heino
Touch of Trouble
by Susan Sey
A Blake Brothers Novella
Reagan’s Revenge
by Tammy Falkner
A Reed Brothers Novella
Accidentally in Love
by Claudia Dain
A More Courtesan Chronicles Novella
You can find them all at
http://www.RedDoorReads.com
!
A Special Excerpt from Ava Stone’s Novella,
In the
Stars
A little bell tinkled above her head at their entrance, and Mina blinked into the darkness of the room that didn’t even possess a window. A few tallow candles were sprinkled about, however, offering a bit of light and a slightly unpleasant smell.
Peggy’s breath hitched in her throat, but the maid didn’t complain or beg to wait outside, and Mina’s heart filled with affection for her servant. Still, she didn’t want her maid to be uneasy. Mina cast a sidelong glance at Peggy and said, “Perhaps you should wait with the driver, make certain he doesn’t leave us.”
“But Miss—” she began at the exact moment a crackly voice from the darkness said, “Your mistress will be safe.”
Peggy leapt slightly at the sound, but Mina stared in the direction from where the voice had come. An older woman stepped forward, and the light from the candles illuminated her weathered face in the darkness. A mane of wild, black hair streaked with a bit of silver hung about her shoulders. Her brown eyes settled on Mina, piercing her as though she could see into her soul.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
A shiver raced down Mina’s spine. “Are you Madam Debardi?” she asked, not certain what else to say now that she was here. She’d been drawn to the place, had seen it in her dreams the night before, and when she’d awoken this morning, she’d known she needed to find this particular door in this particular alley, that some secret about her future lay just inside. But now that she was here…
“You want your cards read.”
Did she? Was
tha
t what her mother wanted her to see? Something in her cards? Something of great importance that she needed to know? “Yes,” she said after a moment. She
had
sought the fortuneteller out, after all. Whatever her mother wanted her to know, Mina needed to find out what it was.
“Miss Mina,” Peggy warned.
She glanced over her shoulder at her maid and smiled. “I’ll be fine, Peggy. But do make certain the driver won’t leave us.”
A second later, the tinkling of the bell over the door signaled Peggy’s departure, and at once, the room felt even darker.
“Over there,” the fortuneteller said, gesturing to her left.
Mina hadn’t noticed the small table until now. Her eyes must finally be adjusting to the dim light. She followed the fortuneteller’s direction and slid into one of the worn out chairs.
Madam Derbardi picked up a candle and brought it with her to the table. As she sat, the candlelight danced across a stack of tattered cards in the middle of the table, illuminating a depiction of a large, all-seeing eye. “Pick up the deck,” the fortuneteller advised. “Shuffle the cards, let them soak in your aura.”
Mina picked up the cards and a spark of warmth shot through her. Heavens!
“Whatever question you want answered, hold it in your mind,” Madam Derbardi said, her dark eyes boring into Mina’s. “You can turn cards upside down or leave them as they are. You’ll know when it’s time to return them to the table.”
Mina closed her eyes and shuffled the cards.
What does my future hold?
she wondered over and over. After a moment, her eyes fluttered open and she placed the deck back on the little table in front of her.
Madam Derbardi nodded then said, “Nothing to be worried about.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” Mina hastened to explain, “just anxious. I…Well, I felt something in the air this morning, madam. A chill of sorts. I think my mother is trying to tell me something important. She’s the one who led me here.”
“Mmm.” The old woman nodded. “You’re sensitive to the spirit plane, aren’t you?”
Mina supposed that was true, though she’d never heard it put in such a way before. Papa and Aunt Irene generally grumbled the words
mystical nonsense
under their breath, not that it mattered. Mina knew there was more to life than what one could see, one just had to know where to…well, l
ook
. One simply needed to pay attention to one’s own heart. At least that was what Mama had always said when she was alive. “Well, I was always very close to her.”
“What do you think she’s trying to tell you?”
Mina had no idea. That was, after all, why she’d sought out Madam Derbardi in the first place. “Something about my future, I suspect.”
“Your future is in the stars, Wilhelmina.”
Tingles raced down Mina’s spine.
Your future is in the stars.
How many times had Mama said those very words to her when she was a little girl? “What is it, Madam?
What
is in the stars?”
The fortuneteller smiled, her blackened teeth catching her lip as she did so. “Let’s find out, shall we?” Then Madam Derbardi turned over the first three cards and placed them in front of Mina.
