Swear by the Moon Read online

  WARNER BOOKS EDITION

  Copyright © 2001 by Shirlee Busbee.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Cover design by Diane Luger

  Cover illustration by Franco Accornero

  Hand lettering by David Gatti

  Book design by L&G McRee

  For information address Warner Books, Hachette Book Group, 237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017.

  Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com.

  An AOL Time Warner Company

  ISBN: 978-0-7595-2666-2

  A mass market edition of this book was published in 2001 by Warner Books.

  The “Warner Books” name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  First eBook Edition: December 2001

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  THERE WAS MUCH ABOUT HER

  THAT LEFT HIM CONFUSED AND UNCERTAIN

  . . . but Patrick knew one thing: he wanted her. Instinctively his grip on her hand tightened and he pulled her into his arms. His lips found hers and her mouth was soft and surprised; her body warm and supple. Desire, sharp and urgent, slammed through Thea. Powerless to fight against the primitive forces unleashed within her, she gasped at the touch of his hand, arching with pleasure. The mundane rattle of crockery in the hall brought them both abruptly back to reality. They sprang apart as the butler entered with a silver tray.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Thea said. “Mr. Blackburne was just leaving.” She glanced back at Patrick, both pleading and demanding that he agree.

  “Indeed, I was,” he muttered, taking her trembling hand in his. “I shall come to call tomorrow.” Thea nodded, not trusting her voice.

  A moment later, Patrick was standing outside in the cool night air, wondering if he had indeed gone mad. How else to explain what happened tonight?

  “I have always loved her novels . . . intricately woven, deeply romantic, and spellbinding.”

  —Rosemary Rogers

  “You can always count on author Shirlee Busbee for a well-written story, memorable characters, an engaging plot, and sizzling romance.”

  —Rendezvous

  “Her lush narrative and classic romance plotline remind readers of those glorious days when there was time to savor rich prose and relax with well-crafted characters. . . . Doing what she does best, Ms. Busbee captures the aura of an era and her readers’ imaginations.”

  —Romantic Times on Love Be Mine

  “Busbee delivers what you read a romance for.”

  —West Coast Review of Books

  Also by Shirlee Busbee

  Lovers Forever

  A Heart for the Taking

  Love Be Mine

  For Love Alone

  At Long Last

  To a pair of dear friends who have often made my life simpler—and more fun!

  PAULINE BRUMLEY, who always brightens my day and brings me squash from the garden that her husband, Ernie, grows with that ‘good stuff’ he gets from us.

  and

  MARLENE BAUER, who for years patiently answered my frequent, “Who’s that?” and who kept me up on the latest gossip—and turned me onto Weight Watchers—for that alone she deserves ten dedications!

  And as always, the love of my life, HOWARD.

  PROLOGUE

  Cheltenham, England

  1788

  The two small figures scurrying across the vast grounds of the estate of Lord Garrett, had anybody been looking, were clearly visible by the light of the full November moon. It was highly unlikely, at two o’clock in the morning, that anyone would have expected to see Lord Garrett’s just-turned-seventeen sister, Thea, acting in such a clandestine manner. Which was precisely the plan.

  A half-excited, half-nervous giggle escaped Thea as she and Maggie Brown, her maid, finally made it to the cover of the tall trees that encircled the grounds. The plan was not hers. Lord Randall had concocted it, and with all the naïveté of one so young and wildly in love for the first time, Thea had thought it a very clever plan. But then she thought every word that fell from Lord Randall’s lips was clever. She had altered his plan only slightly, deciding at the last minute to let Maggie, who was training to become her personal maid, in on the secret. She had known Maggie all of her life and had known that Maggie would support her in this momentous undertaking.

  Maggie, just a year older than Thea, had been agog with terror and excitement when Thea had enlightened her about what was in the wind. It was, as Maggie had averred passionately this evening, “ever so romantic and thrilling” that Miss Thea and Lord Randall were flying in the face of family disapproval and eloping. Maggie thought it was too bad that Lord Garrett and Mrs. Northrop, Lord Garrett and Thea’s mother, were so against the dashing Lord Randall. Hadn’t it been Lord Garrett himself who had introduced Lord Randall to the family? Invited the handsome aristocrat to stay at the family estate, Garrett Manor, for weeks on end this past summer?

  Only hours before, her huge dark eyes full of emotion, Thea had declared to the highly sympathetic Maggie that she would just die if she did not marry Lord Randall! Mama and Tom, Lord Garrett, just did not understand. They were being unreasonable to expect her to wait until the end of her London season next year before announcing her intention to marry Lord Randall. Why, that was months away! And as for their objections to the match, it was all nonsense! Her firm little chin had lifted. Pooh! What did she care that Lord Randall was older than she was? Or that her fortune was much larger than his? Or that he had a reputation of being a rake? Didn’t rakes make the best husbands? Everybody knew that!

  Tom was just being vexatious, Thea had declared roundly as she tossed various items to Maggie to pack, and Mama . . . Hadn’t Mama been just a year older than Thea was now when she had married Papa? And hadn’t Papa been known as one of the wildest rakes around? And hadn’t he been nearly twenty years her senior? She didn’t see why she couldn’t marry a rake. Mama had married a rake, actually two rakes counting Mr. Northrop, whom Mama had married after Papa had been so foolish as to get himself killed when he, his horses and curricle had all gone over a cliff in Cornwall while he had been trying to win a drunken wager. And hadn’t Mama married the much-gossiped-about Mr. Northrop two years later, a man who had been some fifteen years older than she? Having married two men so much older than herself and both with notorious reputations, how could Mama now be so cruel and unfeeling as to deny Thea her heart’s desire? Mama just wasn’t being fair! She would marry Lord Randall. No one, not Mama or Tom, was going to stop her.

  As they had hastily packed the bandboxes for the journey to Gretna Green, Thea had extolled Lord Randall’s virtues, almost convincing Maggie that there was much merit in this runaway marriage and that Lord Randall was a paragon of virtue. Almost.

  Maggie, flattered and awed by her sudden inclusion in the most exciting event that had ever come her way, had nodded in agreement with Thea’s arguments. As Thea
had said, Lord Randall was handsome. He was, according to Lord Garrett himself, a capital fellow. Well connected and with a comfortable fortune. It was true, as Thea had explained earnestly, that Lord Randall had lived a wild and even scandalous life, but he had sworn that all that would change once Thea became his wife. Besides, Thea had said airily, everyone knew that the gentlemen could do as they pleased. Why, even Tom was known to be a “hard goer” and was no stranger to the gaming table and was fond of his liquor. And didn’t Tom keep a mistress in London? Thea wasn’t supposed to know about that, but her young half sister Edwina, who had the nasty habit of listening at keyholes, had heard Mama scolding him about some little actress he had in keeping and Edwina had wasted little time in prattling to Thea all about it. Now how, Thea had asked scornfully, could Tom possibly object to her marrying a friend of his who acted just the same? Of course, Lord Randall had sworn that those days were past for him.

  Caught up in Thea’s enthusiasm, Maggie had agreed with her young mistress, but now that they had left the safety of the house and were on their way to the rendezvous with Lord Randall, she suddenly found herself full of misgivings. Lord Randall, she admitted as she followed Miss Thea’s darting, slender form through the woods, was indeed much older than her young mistress. At thirty-three, he was even much older than Thea’s brother, Lord Garrett, who had just turned twenty-one in August. And if the downstairs gossip was correct, Lord Randall was also a hardened gamester—one of the wild crowd that Lord Garrett had fallen in with lately. Mrs. Northrop had not been pleased about that! Nor that her only son was fast becoming as care-for-nothing as his late, lamented father had been in his heyday.

  But none of that mattered, Maggie told herself firmly. Everyone knew that Lord Randall had taken one look at Miss Thea and had fallen in love with her. And Miss Thea . . . Maggie sighed blissfully. Miss Thea had felt exactly the same way. And while Maggie might have reservations about Lord Randall’s suitability for a young, innocent lady like her mistress, and the covert nature of their courtship, with snatched meetings here and there, it certainly wasn’t up to her to question the actions of the gentry. As for betraying Miss Thea . . . why, she’d never be able to lift her head again!

  None of the reservations that plagued Maggie even crossed Thea’s mind. She was too excited, too intent on reaching Lord Randall’s side, to question the wisdom of what she was doing. She was in love! Certain that Lord Randall, or Hawley, as he had asked her to call him, was the man of her dreams. With his smiling gray eyes, thick black hair, and tall, broad-shouldered form, he was every maiden’s dream, of this she was positive. And to think she was the lucky one whom he had chosen to marry! A scowl crossed her gamine features. It was too bad of Tom to claim that it was her fortune that Hawley had chosen, she thought, as memories of her brother’s pithy remarks floated across her brain.

  Thea and Maggie suddenly burst from the woods and there, drawn up to the side of the road, was the curricle and pair right where he had said they would be: Lord Randall, tall and imposing in his greatcoat, was nervously pacing beside the restive horses. At the sight of Thea, her lively features framed by the hood of her purple-velvet cloak, a pair of overflowing bandboxes clutched in her hands, he left off his pacing and swiftly approached her.

  Swinging her into his arms, he kissed her passionately, far more passionately than she had ever been kissed in her life, and exclaimed, “Darling! You are here at last. I have been in a fever of impatience—fearful that your tender heart would fail you at the last moment.”

  Flustered by the kiss and a trifle shy, Thea looked up into his attractive features. “I would let nothing stop me,” she declared softly. “I promised you I would be here.”

  He smiled, his gray eyes glinting in the moonlight, his chiseled mouth curving with satisfaction. “I know . . . but I was fearful nonetheless. I would not blame you if you had decided that your family was right and that I was not worthy of you.” His lashes dropped, and he glanced away. “I should send you back,” he said manfully. “I am a selfish cad to take you from everything you know and love.”

  “Never say so!” Thea protested, her dark eyes bright with emotion. “You are everything that I desire. Once we are married and they see what a wonderful husband you are to me, Mama and Tom will change their minds. You’ll see.”

  His moment of doubt gone, he flashed her a melting smile and nodded. “I am sure you are right. But now we must be off before you are missed.”

  He tossed Thea up into the curricle and was on the point of joining her when he became aware of Maggie standing uncertainly by the side of the road. He frowned, the lines of dissipation in his handsome face suddenly pronounced.

  An edge to his voice, he asked, “And who is this? I told you that no one was to know. No one.”

  “Oh, it is only Maggie,” Thea said blithely. A faint blush, barely visible in the moonlight, suddenly crossed Thea’s features. “I know that we are to be married, but I did not think it proper for me to travel alone with you all the way to Scotland. It would not be seemly.”

  “And where,” he asked coolly, “do you expect me to put her and all those boxes and whatnot you have brought with you? As you can see, I have only a curricle for us.”

  Thea blinked. She had never heard that tone of voice from him before and was not certain how to react. Maggie could have told her that the servants of Garrett Manor were very familiar with that particular tone and that it usually preceded a sound boxing of the ears.

  Feeling that the strain of the situation was making him a bit testy, Thea sent him a dazzling smile. “Oh, we shall manage. Maggie and I can squeeze together—we are neither of us very big, and I am sure that you will find a place for everything.”

  “I see.” The expression in his eyes was unreadable. Turning to Maggie, he muttered, “Since my wife-to-be brought you along, you had better get in.” He glanced at Thea. “In the future, my dear,” he said, “I would appreciate it if you did not make changes in my plans without consulting with me first.”

  In the silence that followed he made no attempt to help Maggie as she awkwardly clambered into the curricle. Making herself as small as possible, she squeezed gratefully next to Thea.

  It was a silent threesome who traveled through the silvery moonlight. Lord Randall, wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the sure-to-be-infuriated Lord Garrett, set the horses at a spanking pace. The expression on his face did not invite conversation, and Thea, the first blush of excitement having vanished and Lord Randall’s manner not very encouraging, found herself uneasy and a trifle let down. Maggie, remembering all the gossip amongst the servants who’d had the misfortune to run afoul of Lord Randall, was cowardly wishing that Miss Thea had not chosen her to partake in this particular adventure.

  Garrett Manor was situated a short distance from the town of Cheltenham in Gloucester, nearly ninety miles northwest of London. Gretna Green, their destination, was on the border between Scotland and England, a considerable distance farther. They would be more than a few days on the road, even with Lord Randall driving at great speed. The hope was that by the time Lord Garrett and Mrs. Northrop discovered Thea’s absence, the eloping couple would have an insurmountable head start.

  Everything went well until midmorning, when one of the horses they had hired from the last inn threw a shoe and came up lame. Lord Randall, who had seemed to have gotten over his annoyance at Maggie’s inclusion and had been gaily regaling the two young woman with a politely risqué story about Prinny, King George III’s heir and eldest son, muttered a curse and pulled the horses to a stop. A quick examination of the horse confirmed the lost shoe and the fact that they were going nowhere with any speed until the shoe was replaced, and possibly the horse, too.

  Since they were on a rather deserted stretch of road, Lord Randall left the two women in the curricle while he rode the sound horse some miles back to the nearest village. It was nearly two hours later before they were once again on their way, and Lord Randall’s s
urly manner had returned. Thea’s attempts at conversation were met with either a cold silence or a curt reply.

  Late that afternoon, when Thea suggested that they stop at the next posting inn so she and Maggie could stretch their legs and perhaps partake in some refreshments, he sent her a forbidding look that startled her. “You seem to have forgotten that it is urgent that we reach our destination before your brother overtakes us,” he snapped. “I’ll not have all my plans overturned just because you wish to sip some lemonade.” And when they had swept past the posting inn with nary a check of the horses, the expression on his face had kept her protest unspoken.

  As the posting inn disappeared in a cloud of dust behind them, it occurred belatedly to Thea that her husband-to-be could be very charming . . . as long as everything was going his way, but let adversity strike . . . She peeped over at him as he drove, his attractive profile grim. This was a side of him she had never seen, never suspected. Of course, he was upset, she told herself charitably. The delay with the lost shoe had been costly, and it was imperative that they reach Gretna Green well ahead of Tom. Still, she did not think that it was necessary for him to be quite so ungracious. If not for themselves, they should have stopped for Maggie, she thought unhappily, after a glance at Maggie’s tired features.

  They had been on the road over fourteen hours and surely a half hour stop would not have spelled disaster, especially since their only breaks involved flying stops . . . Thea sent another look at Maggie’s face. While it wasn’t Maggie’s place to complain, it was Thea’s place to see that her servant was not abused. It was a family tradition that the Garrets took care of their own, and practically since birth it had been drilled into Thea’s head that she was responsible for the well-being and care of her servants, actually of anyone of a lesser position than herself. Thea might be madly in love, but she was not unintelligent, and Lord Randall’s utter disregard for her and Maggie’s needs made her thoughtful and a little wary of the glamour with which she had viewed him.