Surrender of Trust (First Volume of the Surrender Series) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  More About & Connect With Mariel Grey

  Surrender of Trust

  By Mariel Grey

  Copyright 2013 Mariel Grey

  Smashwords Edition

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  Chapter One

  London

  Early July, 1803

  Lucy Goodwin sighed and leaned back against the plush settee. Closing her eyes, she sniffled and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, drying the tears.

  "You don't look like Lady Monique."

  Startled by the intrusion, Lucy jumped and her eyes flew open. The deep, masculine timbre of the unknown voice reverberated through her bones. Lucy found herself looking into the most intense pair of blue eyes she had ever seen. Her mouth went dry and her breath caught in her throat.

  Unable to find her voice, Lucy stared wordlessly into the cobalt blue eyes of the tall, commanding presence of the man who held her in his gaze. The handsome, angled planes of his face, the stylish cut of his green striped coat without a waist seam, and long sleeves set high into the shoulder marked him as wealthy. The aura of power and privilege he radiated marked him as a peer.

  "I'm not sure what has you so distraught, but a runner of Madeira might do you some good." He moved to the sideboard and began to pour for her.

  Whoever the man was, he was certainly comfortable and at home in her friend, Lady Monique's house. While the man's back was turned, Lucy combed her fingers through her hair and wiped her eyes again in an effort to appear presentable. I must look awful. Lucy shook herself and managed to find her voice. "Please don't trouble yourself. Lady Monique has gone to have some tea made."

  The stranger turned to face Lucy and pinned her with his gaze. "Ah, the lady speaks!"

  Heat rose in her cheeks. "I apologize. I didn't intend to be rude in not speaking. You just surprised me."

  The man's lips curved in a slow, sensual smile and a cascade of flutters shot through Lucy.

  "There's no need to apologize. I was looking for Lady Monique. I have a message for her from my sister, but I see I've obviously intruded on you during a private time. It is I who should apologize."

  The man towered over Lucy and stared at her with his disturbing eyes. Her heart rate accelerated and her breath hitched. She dropped her eyes. Who was this man?

  "Lord Chalifour! What are you doing here?" Monique asked from the doorway.

  "Why, bothering your guest, of course."

  "I see that," Monique said.

  "Actually, I was looking for you. I have a message for you from my sister."Chalifour reached into his coat and withdrew a piece of folded foolscap with a red wax seal. Handing it to Monique, he gave a slight bow.

  Chalifour's hair was cut in the fashionable Titus hairstyle, trimmed short everywhere except around the front, where his curls were brushed forward. A stray lock of thick, dark curly hair escaped and fell across his forehead. Lucy had an insane desire to brush the hair back into place.

  Chalifour returned his gaze to Lucy. His eyes unabashedly perused her. "I would enjoy a proper introduction, but I think that should wait until you are feeling better."

  Chalifour's deep, velvet smooth voice washed over Lucy and she shivered. Lucy had never responded so strongly to a man. What was happening to her? Disoriented, Lucy reached her hand out to steady herself. Wonderful. Not only was she a fright, she probably appeared daft to boot.

  Chalifour swiveled toward Monique and said, "I'm sure your brother is wondering what's keeping me. Now that I've delivered my message, I should take my leave." Passing through the doorway, Chalifour paused and turned. He cast one last glance at Lucy before departing.

  Lucy expelled her breath and the tension drained from her body. Curious, she hadn't realized her muscles were so taut.

  "I believe you may have an admirer," Monique said.

  "Don't be silly. Who is he?"

  "That is Lord Philip Lyton, Marquis of Chalifour, one of my brother's cronies. Currently, he's one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. Women flock to him like bees to honey. I think he spends most of his time dodging women with designs on him."

  "Well, he has nothing to fear from me. I've no intention of marrying."

  "Don't be ridiculous. Of course, you'll marry."

  Lucy didn't reply. There would be no husband in her future, but there was no sense arguing with her closest friend over the matter. It would serve no purpose. The butler arrived with a tray of tea and proceeded to pour for Lucy and Monique.

  ****

  Chalifour strode down the hallway. What a striking woman. How had he missed her in Town? Who was she? Even her red, swollen eyelids couldn't hide the magnificence of her emerald eyes. And her lips. Chalifour suppressed the multitude of impure thoughts which flooded him. Farther down the hall, Chalifour found his friend, the Duke of Glenhurst, reading in his study.

  Glenhurst looked up when he entered. "There you are. I'd begun to think the minions from hell finally caught up with you. I hear they've been pursuing you for some time now."

  Chalifour laughed. "No, I'm still dodging them! Though who knows how long I can evade them. So, tell me, who is your guest?"

  Glenhurst looked puzzled for a moment, then comprehension dawned on his face. "Oh, you must mean my sister’s friend, Lucy Goodwin."

  "Lucy Goodwin." Chalifour savored the sound of the name on his tongue. "Why is that name familiar?"

  "Perhaps because it's Lucien Goodwin's sister."

  "The breeder and jockey?"

  "One and the same."

  "No wonder I missed her. Not being a member of the ton, I'd hardly have run across her. She's stunning."

  "If you say so. I’m more partial to someone like Lady Miriam, all rosie and fair. Besides, she's also a sweet girl. Not your type."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Just what I said. Your women are generally, shall we say, a little more jaded."

  Lucy's face came unbidden to Chalifour's thoughts. He had caught Lucy in a weak moment for sure, but her beauty was unmistakabl
e. Even her weeping, tortured face couldn't disguise her charms. More than that, the image of Lucy's poise in what was obviously a time of personal lament wouldn't leave Chalifour. He had been assailed by an odd desire to kiss those tears from her face. Rousing himself, he caught Glenhurst studying him. It's just a woman. Gather your wits!

  "She was quite distraught when I saw her a few moments ago. Didn't she recently lose her father?" Chalifour asked.

  "Yes. He passed just a few weeks ago."

  "I thought I heard that. He was a genius at breeding."

  "That he was. He was also a good man."

  "So why is his daughter here?"

  "She's in Town having mourning attire made. She's been having a very difficult time of things."

  "So how has Lucien taken to the breeding business? I mean, I know he's a prominent jockey, but how is he on the business and breeding end of things?"

  "It's too early to tell, but I think, if you'll pardon the pun, Lucien will take up the reigns of the family business just fine. From what I gather, his father educated him fairly thoroughly in the craft, or dare I say, the fine art of breeding. I believe Lucien will fare quite well."

  Interesting. Chalifour had intended to approach the father with his proposition. He would have to address Lucien Goodwin instead and now might be the opportune time to put his plan in motion.

  Chapter Two

  Light filtered through the open doorway of the stable. Lucy Goodwin hugged Thor's neck and slid off his back. Thor neighed and tossed his head. Lucy she reached over and patted him. While one of her hands glided across the glossy hair of his back, Thor's wet nose nuzzled her hand expectantly, looking for a treat. She smiled at his antics and grabbed a comb and began brushing him out.

  "Miss Goodwin! Miss Goodwin!"

  Startled by the anxious voice, Lucy turned to the footman, Cedric, running through the stables toward her.

  "Cedric! What's wrong?"

  "You're needed at the house, Miss Goodwin." Cedric panted and leaned against the doorway to catch his breath.

  A chill tickled the base of her spine. "Why? What's happened?"

  "It's your brother, m'am. There's been an accident."

  The chill turned to ice. Cold tendrils of fear coiled around Lucy’s insides. Hands momentarily paralyzed, the comb fell from her numb fingers. Grabbing the hem of her black crepe riding skirt, she tore from the stables and scrambled up the pathway through the garden and into the house. Half stumbling through the kitchen in her haste, Lucy entered the hallway. Her brother's valet, Alistair, descended the steps, face drawn, eyes filled with worry.

  Fighting the rising panic, Lucy asked, "What's happened to Lucien?"

  "From what we were told, his coach slid off the road during the rainstorm last night and went over an embankment. He's lucky to be alive. The coachman was killed."

  "Please, not Lucien too," Lucy breathed. "Where is the doctor? Why isn't he already here?"

  "He'll be here as soon as he can, but he's got to travel a great distance."

  Lucy took the stairs two at a time and entered her brother's room. Not expecting the severity of his injuries, she gasped at the mottle of black, red and purple welts that covered his face. Alistair had obviously attempted to sponge the blood from Lucien's battered head, but red stains were smeared across the covers.

  He's too pale. He looks like a corpse. Stop. Don't think like that!

  "Dear, God. Please don't take Lucien. He's all I have now," Lucy whispered. Hastening across the room, she halted at Lucien's bedside and eased herself onto the bed to sit beside him.

  Stroking Lucien's forehead, Lucy contemplated how lonely the house would be without her brother's boisterous laughter. Voices echoed from downstairs and she cocked her head, straining to listen. The voice of Dr. Willets carried upstairs and she sighed with relief. Heavy footfalls pounded up the staircase. Hurry, she urged silently.

  An eternity passed before Dr. Willets hurried into the room with Alistair in tow. Dr. Willets glanced at Lucy and moved beside her to stare at the inert form. Grasping Lucy's shoulders, he gently moved her from the bed and yanked the bed covers away from Lucien, exposing his damaged body. Lucy's stomach plunged at the sight of the full extent of her brother's injuries.

  Dr. Willets placed his hands on Lucien's chest and began to unbutton Lucien's bloodied shirt. He stopped and said, "I need to examine him. All of him." Dr. Willets stared at Lucy. "If any of this is going to offend your sensibilities, Ms. Goodwin, then I suggest you leave now. If not, I could use your help, and this man's help." He nodded at Alistair.

  Wordlessly, Lucy and Alistair stepped forward to assist Dr. Willets in his examination of Lucien. Dr. Willets checked Lucien's pulse. He then waved a candle before Lucien's eyes. The pupils reacted to the light, and relief washed over Lucy. Dr. Willets pricked the skin of Lucien's arm with a sharp pin and the arm jerked. Lucy expelled her pent-up breath and the block of ice in the pit of her stomach began to thaw.

  His examination concluded, Dr. Willets administered a draft of laudanum to Lucien and turned to Lucy, motioning for her to sit. "I think you understand Lucien is lucky to be alive. You should also understand there is no guarantee he will live. He may be bleeding inside. If he is, I may not be able to help him. Time will provide the answer, not me."

  The brave front crumpled and Lucy stifled the impulse to wail. Instead, she drew from an inner well of strength and stood up, drawing in her breath and straightening herself, refusing to fall apart. "What do I need to do?"

  "You must keep him sedated as much as possible. I will give you some laudanum. When he wakes, give him the laudanum in wine. If he seems hungry, feed him as much as you can. Eating will help keep his strength up. After Lucien eats, assuming you can entice him to do, dose him with the laudanum and wine again. He'll need to be sponged regularly and have his bed clothes changed as frequently as possible. Keep him clean and give him a chamber pot in bed. I want him sleeping and immobile as much as possible. His left leg might be broken, or maybe it's just fractured. I can't tell yet, but I've wrapped it. It's all I can do for now. The rest is up to him, and God."

  Dr. Willets regarded Lucy steadily for a moment before continuing, "You need to keep his spirits as high as you can. Don't let him become upset or worried about anything. I think mental health is as important to his recovery as his physical health. I'll stop back by in a few days to check on him. If he takes a turn for the worse, send one of your servants to collect me."

  Gathering his bag, Dr. Willets departed from the room without another word. Lucy followed him and sagged against the bedroom door. She bit her lip to stop the trembling. Emotions finally overwhelmed her and shattered her composure. Her shoulders shook beyond her control and she brushed at her cheeks to wipe away the tears which flowed. She couldn't lose Lucien. She couldn't even bear to think of the possibility. So why was she allowing herself to think in this vein?

  Of course, Lucien would get better. She would see to it. She would do whatever was necessary to ensure he remained healthy. At the moment that meant caring for his business too. Lucien's recovery couldn't be jeopardized by worrying about his business. Not to mention, his business provided them both with a place to live and an income.

  Operating the business would present a genuine problem since Lucy had no legal or social standing to do so. She would have to lie to the outside world to ensure his health and their security. She would do whatever was necessary, lie, cheat, even steal to save her brother, their good name, and their livelihood. Whatever it takes, Lucy vowed. Resolved, Lucy lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. She would not fail.

  Lucy considered what she needed to do first. It wouldn't do to panic the servants. Lucy wiped her eyes and smoothed her gown before she took the stairs in a measured pace, one step at a time to the first floor.

  Lucy found Alistair speaking with Cook about a household matter. Taking him aside, Lucy said, "I'm sure you know I need you to tend to Lucien. That is to be your primary duty now."


  Lucy peered at Alistair. The gentle, loyal man had been her father's valet first, and now Lucien's. She could depend on him to care for Lucien as if he were his own son. "We're going to have our hands full."

  Alistair stared very directly into her eyes, "Yes, I daresay we will."

  "I ran out without instructing the stable boys. I need to return to the stables to ensure the horses have been cared for. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  Lucy left the house and picked her way along the same path she had run along earlier. She pondered their predicament. Their fates rested on her shoulders and abilities. There could be no failure.

  ****

  The crisp morning air refreshed Chalifour. His Stable Master, John Carroll, kept pace with him as their horses trotted through the wet grass covered by dew.

  "Yes, My Lord, I have segregated the mares from the stallions as you requested." Carroll chuckled, "It seems neither the mares nor the stallions are very happy with this new arrangement."

  Chalifour smiled inwardly. He could well imagine his horses weren't very happy with their new circumstances, but he was. Unfortunately for the horses, segregation was a necessity. He mentally apologized to his stallions for ruining their Spring rut.

  The long-awaited meeting with Lucien Goodwin to complete their business arrangements was at hand. After nearly nine months of negotiations and correspondence with Lucien, Chalifour’s dream, or at least a part of it, was on the cusp of coming to fruition. He had contacted Lucien not long after leaving Town at the end of Season last year after his chance meeting with Lucien’s sister at Glenhurst Hall. He smiled at the thought of Lucy.

  His plan was close to materializing. Excitement rose within Chalifour reminiscent of the time he stole his first kiss at twelve years old. The wave of giddiness which rippled through him was an unfamiliar feeling. In fact, he doubted anyone had ever used the word giddy to describe him. The prospect of seeing Lucy again was enticing too. With a grin, Chalifour turned to his Stable Master.