The Duke's Forbidden Love (Book 4, Age of Innocence) Read online

  How had she gotten into this predicament? Between her parents’ lack of support for her wanting to marry for love and Lincoln’s cruelty, she was truly doomed. Was this her fault? Could she have avoided this fate? At the beginning of their acquaintance, she had been infatuated with Lincoln, but as they spent more time together, her feelings changed. She dared not speak of her unhappiness to anyone, not even to her best friend, Rose. Rose had been happy for her. They had talked endlessly about the joys of married life, but now she was engaged and she dreaded Lincoln’s presence. Why hadn’t she told Rose about his cruelty? Perhaps then, she would have had the courage to tell her parents she didn’t want to marry the earl.

  “Compose yourself, Amelia,” Lincoln growled as he held out his arm.

  Amelia took a deep breath to calm her erratically beating heart and placed her hand on his arm. “Yes, my lord,” she said in a meek voice.

  “Much better. Remember what I told you.” Lincoln escorted her back to her mother. “Lady Dudley, I’m very pleased to inform you that Miss Beckwith has agreed to become my wife. I will be securing a special license after the marriage contract is signed so we can be married as soon as possible.”

  “But my lord, I cannot possibly plan the wedding breakfast so quickly. Why not wait and have the banns read? That way, the modiste will have time to design a new wedding gown and trousseau for Amelia.”

  Lincoln shook his head. “That will not do. Ten days. I trust that is enough time to plan the breakfast celebration. I’ll leave it to you to give the happy news to your husband.” With that, he gave them a stiff bow and strode away.

  “Of course, my lord,” Grace said. She turned and hugged her daughter. “Oh my darling girl, how happy you’ve made your father and I. Lincoln must be so in love with you, he doesn’t want to wait three weeks for the banns to be read. We’ll visit Mrs. Shepherd tomorrow and see what she can have ready by the wedding day.”

  Amelia’s head was spinning. Her life was being orchestrated without a care for what she wanted, and she had no options left. This had become the worst day of her life. By the time they headed home, she knew what she had to do. It was a plan of desperation—the only thing she could think to do was escape this nightmare as fast as she could.

  She rode home with her parents in silence. Her mother was beaming, having informed all her friends of the engagement, and her father smiled at her.

  “You’ve made an excellent match, Amelia,” he said. “You couldn’t have chosen a better man for your husband.”

  Amelia was too stunned to say anything to her parents. How could they not know what Lincoln was really like? But he hid his cruelty well, and even her father had no idea what he was pushing her toward. When they reached the townhouse, she went straight to her bedchamber after wishing them a quick good night.

  Her lady’s maid, entered her bedchamber ten minutes later. “Miss Amelia, I wish you happy. Your mother has told the staff of your news.”

  “Thank you, Dolly.”

  Dolly helped her out of the lavender silk before she started removing the pins from her hair. “Shall I brush out your hair?”

  Amelia nodded. Her mind was a whirlwind, calculating what she needed to do to escape marrying the earl. “Thank you.”

  Dolly began to brush the mass of auburn curls. “I understand the wedding will be soon.”

  “Yes. Lincoln is securing a special license.” She was surprised her voice sounded so calm.

  “How romantic! I shall have all your things packed and ready to go by then.”

  “I’m not sure whether we’ll be staying in London or retiring to the country. You will come with me, won’t you, Dolly?”

  The young maid smiled brightly. “Oh, of course, Miss Beckwith. I would love to attend you. Imagine me, attending a countess.” Dolly braided Amelia’s hair, securing it with a ribbon before helping her into her night rail. “Will there be anything else?”

  Amelia shook her head. “No. That is all. Good night, Dolly.”

  Dolly left the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Amelia climbed into bed and counted the minutes until the wee hours of the morning, when the house was quiet. She slipped out of bed and pulled a plain gray muslin dress from the back of her closet. She was glad that she had not given it to Dolly. It was the only dress she had that fastened in the front. She could get dressed without a maid, but she would have to forego stays, so she pulled on a petticoat over her chemise instead. She pulled on stockings and slipped her feet into sturdy half boots before securing her hair in a chignon at her neck.

  When she finished dressing, she went to her writing desk and pulled out the middle drawer. Reaching inside, her fingers closed on the velvet pouch at the back of the drawer. It was all the pin money she had, and she now regretted spending money on frivolous ribbons, but there was no way she could have predicted the current turn of events. She wasn’t sure how far her coin would take her and hoped it would be enough to hire a hack to a coaching inn on the outskirts of London, then passage on whichever mail coach was headed the furthest from Town. She had no plan beyond escaping London and Lincoln’s clutches. She knew it was a reckless plan, but the unrelenting panic at her situation overwhelmed her good sense.

  She looked around her bedchamber one last time before donning her older cloak and the plain bonnet she had planned to decorate with the new ribbons. She fingered the ribbons she had purchased last week. Should she take them? She was tempted, but thought better of it and put them back on her dressing table. Her mother wouldn’t notice the missing bonnet or old cloak, but she was with Amelia when she bought the ribbons and would definitely notice if they were missing, especially since she had seen them earlier when she commanded Amelia to dress for the ball. She dared not take a small valise or any of her jewelry—she couldn’t afford to leave any clues behind. She had to disappear without a trace, and that meant leaving every aspect of her old life behind. She would rather face the uncertainty of fleeing London and whatever lay beyond than marry Lincoln. She hated him for making her take this desperate step. Why would he want to marry someone who didn’t want him?

  Her breath came fast and her heart beat wildly as she navigated down the servant stairway at the back of the townhome, stopping every few steps and listening for any noise indicating someone might be awake. Hearing nothing amiss, she made her way to the kitchen. Before heading out the door to freedom, she grabbed some bread, ham, and cheese and wrapped them in a napkin. She’d eat later. Her stomach was in knots at the moment, but she knew once she escaped London, hunger would once again come calling.

  She had never asserted her own will before, but she knew with absolute certainty that she could not stay and live the life that awaited her. The last thing she wanted was to hurt her parents. She had never disobeyed them before, and it hurt her to disappoint them now. If they had listened to her and respected her desire to marry for love, she would not feel so desperate. She knew without a doubt that they would not let her cry off the engagement to the earl. It terrified her more than she wanted to admit to take a mail coach on her own, but marrying Lincoln terrified her more.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when she left the kitchen and headed toward the road to hail a hack. She needed to be gone from London before anyone realized she was missing. The road was deserted, and she had to walk several blocks before she was able to hail a hack.

  “Where to, miss?” the driver asked.

  “The Two Swans coaching inn, please,” Amelia said. She pulled opened the door and hopped into the carriage before the driver could jump down to hand her up. She didn’t want anyone to get a good look at her as she escaped. The fewer people she encountered on the way to the inn, the better her chances of disappearing. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as the hack traveled the empty London streets toward the inn. The first part of her plan had gone off without incident. She could only hope that the next leg of her journey went just
as well.

  Chapter 3

  RICHARD BLACKWOOD, THE EARL OF Lincoln, exited his carriage and walked up the stairs to the Beckwith townhome. It was extremely early for a morning call, but he wanted this business over with. The sooner he got the marriage contract signed, the sooner he could marry Lady Amelia and get his heir on her. He had not liked her little show of defiance last night on the balcony and would make sure she understood that that kind of behavior would not be tolerated in the future. He didn’t care for the chit, but she was the prettiest this Season, and he wanted to ensure that his future son and heir had the best chance of being handsome like his father. He cared not for daughters and would visit the marriage bed only until he had his heir and a spare.

  He lifted the knocker and let it bang down.

  A somber-looking butler opened the door. “My lord, you are expected. This way, please.”

  Lincoln followed him down the hall to the baron’s study. Before they reached the door, a hysterical scream pierced the air. “What the bloody hell was that?”

  The butler turned a shade of white and hurried toward the stairs with the earl hard on his heels. They bounded up the stairs to the family level and were met by the baroness, screaming outside a bedchamber.

  The baron was trying to calm his wife but wasn’t having any luck. “Grace, calm yourself. This is not helping the situation.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Lincoln demanded, taking in the sight of the hysterical baroness and her husband.

  “She’s gone, she’s gone,” wailed the baroness, throwing herself in her husband’s arms. “My darling girl must be kidnapped.”

  Lincoln had a sinking feeling that he would not like what the answer he was about to receive. “Who’s gone?”

  “Lincoln, I’m afraid Amelia’s missing,” Dudley said, taking a step away from his distraught wife.

  Lincoln looked between the baron and his wife, trying to parse out the story. “What do you mean missing? Perhaps she is out walking.”

  Dudley shook his head. “Her maid is here. Amelia would not go out without Dolly. She is a very responsible young woman and I am afraid I agree with my wife’s assertion that Amelia has been taken against her will.”

  Richard strode into the bedchamber. His hands began clenching and unclenching as his fury built. “Where is the maid? I wish to question her.”

  A timid-looking maid stepped forward. “I’m Dolly, my lord,” she said with a curtsey.

  “What makes you think Miss Beckwith is missing?” he ground out between clenched teeth. He was having a difficult time controlling his anger at this hitch in his perfect plan, but until he had all the facts, he would keep himself in check.

  The maid flinched at his tone. “Her bed is cold, my lord, and none of her dresses or personal items are missing.”

  Richard pushed past the maid, wanting to see the chit’s room for himself. He took in the scene. Everything seemed to be in order, with no dresses strewn about to indicate a hurried packing of her things. There was also no sign of a struggle, and that led him to believe that, more than likely, Amelia had left of her own volition. “Is there a valise missing?”

  Dolly shook her head. “No, my lord. Her valise is still in the armoire.”

  Richard pushed aside the dresses. The maid was correct—in the corner sat a valise. If Amelia had run, why wouldn’t she pack a few essentials? Then the truth slammed into his gut. Amelia was much more clever than he had anticipated and hadn’t wanted to leave any clues behind when she fled the townhome.

  “Dudley, I’ll talk to you in your study,” Richard said, striding from the room.

  “Of course,” the baron said, disentangling his wife from his arm. “I’ll return shortly,” he whispered to her, then directed Dolly to help his wife to her bedchamber.

  When Dudley entered his study, Lincoln was pacing like a caged lion. He didn’t get a word out before the earl grabbed his cravat and tightened it in his fist. “What nonsense is this? Where’s your daughter?”

  “Lincoln, remove your hands from my person. There’s no need for such behavior.”

  Lincoln glared at him before finally releasing him. “Answer my question. Where is your daughter and don’t insult me with a possible kidnapping scheme. If she had truly been kidnapped, there would be signs of a struggle with the bed linens at the very least. Nothing was amiss in her bedchamber.”

  Dudley rubbed his chin and licked his lips. “I wish I knew. Amelia has never done anything like this before. She has always been a most dutiful daughter.”

  Lincoln loomed over the shorter man. “The marriage will take place in ten days. You have until then to find your daughter. I will not be jilted, do I make myself clear?”

  Before Dudley had a chance to respond, Lincoln strode from the room, slamming the front door as he left the townhome. He was shaking with rage, his hands fisted as he stormed down the stairs. How dare that chit try to jilt him? She would pay for this act of defiance. No one defied the Earl of Lincoln, and Amelia Beckwith would not be the first.

  His footman jumped down and opened the carriage door.

  Lincoln shook his head. “I’ll walk.”

  “Very good, my lord,” the footman said, closing the door and hopping back up to his perch. He took up the ribbons and steered the carriage back toward the Lincoln mews.

  It wasn’t far to the Lincoln townhome, and Lincoln needed the exercise to calm down. Fury wouldn’t help him locate the chit. He needed to think clearly and vowed to leave no stone unturned in his search for Amelia. Too many people knew of his engagement now; it wouldn’t be possible to end the betrothal without gossip racing through the ton like wildfire especially with Amelia missing.

  Painful memories intruded on his mind as he walked. His late father had mired the family name in scandal, dying in his mistress’s bed and saddling the earldom with crippling debt. It had been a favorite topic of gossip when Richard became the Earl of Lincoln. What did a twelve-year-old know of humiliation and scandal? When he finally took charge of the earldom, it took him years to make the estates profitable again. He worked night and day setting his affairs to rights. Many called him cold and uncaring, and he preferred that to being the topic of gossip. Now Amelia would ignite gossip again if she didn’t appear at the wedding. It was the last thing he wanted to endure. There would be no scandal to taint the Lincoln name, now or ever again, if he had anything to do with it.

  “You will be sorry you ever crossed me, Amelia. Mark my words,” Lincoln growled to no one in particular.

  Chapter 4

  Blythe Castle

  Ipswich, Suffolk County

  NONE OF THE STAFF DARED get in Warwick’s way as he stormed through the house, his foul disposition matching the foul weather.

  Gresham handed him his coat and hat and opened the door. “Enjoy your ride, Your Grace.”

  Warwick nodded and strode to the stables at a fast clip. Tom had Mercury saddled and waiting for him. He handed the reins over to the duke. “He’s anxious for a good ride, Your Grace.”

  Warwick took the reins and vaulted into the saddle without a word. The second anniversary of Victoria’s death had unsettled him, and he needed a wild gallop across the wide-open spaces of his estate to be able to breathe. Two years ago, his perfect world had ended. His beloved wife and the ideal life they’d shared were gone, but he could still hear her voice in his mind. He wondered why the fates had been so unkind. He’d had everything—a loving wife and a beloved child on the way—but it had all been snatched away from him in an instant. He would never love anyone the way he’d loved Victoria.

  He patted Mercury’s neck before kicking the stallion into action. Mercury bolted out of the stable and headed across the meadow. Warwick let the horse have his head, the wind whipping at his coat. He lost track of how long he rode, only slowing when the horse’s neck was lathered. He pulled back on the
reins. “Whoa, boy. You’ve earned a walk.”

  A clap of thunder startled the horse, and he reared up. Warwick brought Mercury back under control and headed for the road that led back to the castle. It was shorter than going back the way he’d come. He was still a good way from home when the skies opened up, and it didn’t take long for the torrential rain to drench him.

  “A fitting tribute to my Victoria,” he grumbled.

  He slowed Mercury to a walk while the rain pelted his face. It wouldn’t do for the horse to step in a hole and break a leg. Pulling his hat down low on his brow, he tucked his chin against his chest and headed back. The next flash of lightning lit up the countryside, and Warwick looked up to see a slight figure trudging down the road. Who would be out in this horrid weather? Surely no one would send a servant out in this storm. The thunder boomed even louder, and a lightning bolt again lit up the skies, striking the ground nearby with sizzling intensity. The figure in the road startled and, with arms pin-wheeling to regain balance, tumbled down the bank into the ravine.

  Warwick kicked Mercury. “Come on, boy.” He quickly came to the spot where he saw the figure tumble from the road and jumped off the horse. Careful not to fall himself, he made his way down the steep bank, his boots slipping on loose stones. A figure lay prone at the bottom of the ravine. He thought it was a child at first, but when he turned the body over, he was surprised to see the face of a beautiful young woman. She was unconscious, blood flowing down the side of her face.

  The horrendous image of his wife in a similar position flashed through his mind. “No, not this again,” Warwick screamed into the wind. He checked her neck for a pulse and was relieved to find a faint one. Something loosened in his chest as he lifted the woman into his arms and made his way up the embankment. No one else was going to die on this black day if he could help it. Mercury was pawing at the mud, anxious to be out of the storm, when Warwick made the road again.