The Silent Love
Authors: Diane Davis White
| The Silent Love |
| Love Vine [1] |
| Diane Davis White |
| HeartSent Books (2011) |
Beginning her arranged marriage as a timid, untried miss, Lady Hannah DeLacey grows into her position as Marchioness of Darlington with aplomb and a great deal of spine she hadn't previously been aware of. Never having been called upon to exercise her considerable intellect or her natural leadership abilities, Hannah surprises herself constantly with her ability to overcome personal loss, baseless fear and other trials as she navigates the aristocratic maze that is now her life.
David Strongbow begins his journey into true manhood with the handicap of being the by-blow of a peer who has scarcely paid him a moment's attention beyond educating him. David has sunk low in his self-pity and estimates himself worthy of deception. He therefore accepts the role his father offers him, deceitful and immoral though it is—and likely illegal—in the hopes of gaining a financial foothold in life that will present a fresh start.
The Marquis of Darlington is a man unaccustomed to having his wishes thwarted, however, when he finds himself without an heir, he must do some creative maneuvering in order to continue the ancient lineage of his family. In doing so, he succeeds only in nearly ruining the lives of those he loves.
Mary Strongbow, the woman who holds the heart of the marquis, has long since given up on the haughty and selfish peer, hoping only to have some time with her son occasionally. When she see's, however, what he is up to, Mary takes measures of her own. She will do her best to prevent him ruining anyone else's life the way he ruined hers.
The Silent Love
~~~
by
Diane Davis White
H
eart
S
ent Publications
Cover design by Diane Davis White
HeartSent Videos/Book Covers
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© 2011
Diane Davis White
All rights reserved
First Edition November 1, 2011
Second Edition, June 12, 2012
H
eart
S
entBooks.com
Stillwater, OK
Authors Note:
Proxy marriage was not legal in England during the time of this story. I must include a disclaimer to that effect, and have taken poetic license with regard to this item.
The Silent Love
~ Book One ~
Prologue
~~
Cheshire, England
September One, In The Year of Our Lord 1796
...
"I am with child, Clayton," Mary Strongbow whispered as she looked up at her lover.
"Sweet Mary, you will have the world at your feet, for I vow once we are wed I shall—"
"I will not wed you, and well you know it," she interrupted him angrily. "Why must you persist with this...
this fruitless quest?"
She sat up, pushing him off her, and pulled the cover across her body, hiding her charms from his gaze, as she was wont to do when upset with him.
The marquis, eyes black with rage at being thwarted—a condition to which he was unaccustomed—rose from the bed and began to dress, jerking his words out in the haughtiest possible manner.
"You would have our child a bastard then, Mary Strongbow? You would deny him a birthright...
and deny me, who loves you, the pleasure of a wife? For I vow, mistress, if you gainsay me in this matter I shall leave here, and you shall not see me again."
Unbowed by his fury, she retorted, "And would you have me a laughing stock among your fancy, well-born friends? How long do you think they would tolerate
even you
, if you married so beneath yourself? I told you nay and you must accept that. I am not a gently bred lady, nor will I ever be. You'll not have your way in this."
"And you, my stubborn, foolish girl, will have your child, but not his father. I have spoken, and that is an end to it. On the morrow I shall leave this place...
and you, Mary Strongbow."
"Go then, master arse, and to the devil with you," Mary shouted after his departing figure as she pulled her clothing on with haste. She fled the cottage in one direction while her lover fled in the other.
A strong-minded woman, Mary refused to look back, tossing her head, black curls flying round her darkly beautiful countenance as she marched away with an indomitable step.
.
* * * * *
.
On the 24
th
March, in the year of our Lord, Seventeen-Hundred and Ninety-Seven, Mary gave birth to a son. She named him David, for she had read in a book that it meant 'the beloved' and he surely was that.
Content in her cottage, Mary gloried in the raising of her child, for David was strong, bright and quick. If her nights were lonely and she sometimes caught herself looking out over the fields for a tall, silver-eyed man who did not appear, she stubbornly pushed him from her mind...
and her heart as well.
Her world shattered one fine spring morning when a large barouche pulled to a halt before her father's smithy shop. Dread filled her as she spied the crest upon the door. The footman in the oh-so-familiar livery placed the step and the door swung open before the servant could reach for the handle and the attendant stepped back, bowing low.
Clayton Archibald Larkspur, Marquis of Darlington, appeared from within, his superfine coat fitting those familiar wide shoulders so perfectly, memories of passion surfaced only to be quickly suppressed. He turned to stare at her with cool silver eyes, then moved to enter the shop without a flicker of recognition.
Something in Mary died at that moment, for the numbness of shock abated and she understood what he had come for. Panic rushed blood to her brain, and dizziness nearly overtook her before cold, hard determination replaced her fears.
She picked up her skirts and began to run, a scream welling in her throat as the Marquis came out of the shop with her son, pushing the frightened boy gently into the barouche. Glancing neither to the left or right, he moved a foot toward the step.
"Stop! You cannot have my child, you devils spawn!" She ran at him, battering his back with her fists, her blows reigning against his muscular flesh to little avail. That she should be so bold as to attack a peer of the realm seemed to alarm the footman, who moved quickly toward her.
The marquis—while absorbing the endless blows of her small fists—made a motion with his hand and the servant stepped back, lowering his eyes. She stilled and removed her hands, dropping the still-balled fists to her sides.
One boot upon the step, the Marquis of Darlington turned to her, his eyes the color of a stormy sea. Not unkindly, but with an underlying steel in his voice, he finally spoke. "The boy needs the things I can give him. I will educate him and treat him well, Mary. Cease this foolish display at once."
He shrugged her off and climbed in behind the boy, who stared through the window, whimpering and crying out for her.
The carriage moved away at a spanking pace as Mary sank to her knees in the muddy lane, and wailed out her grief...
tearing great handfuls of her fine black hair. She stayed that way until her father came and dragged her into his house. The next day, he moved her things from the cottage and boarded the windows.
As one tale always spins into another, thus begins our saga of Master David Strongbow and Lady Hannah DeLacey Larkspur, Countess of Darlington.
Enjoy, gentle reader.
Chapter One
~~
The Marquis of Darlington frowned into the fire, the letter from his solicitor clutched in one gnarled and misshapen hand. He glanced at it again, hoping to read something else there, but the message was the same no matter how often he looked.
He had no heir. He would not have one, and the line would die with him; the legitimate line, at any rate. The title would become extinct after four hundred years. His last hope had died with his second cousin, who had expired after a fall from his mount.