Montgomery Family 03 - Turned Around By Love Read online

  Turned Around by Love

  Montgomery Family Trilogy

  Book 3

  by

  Vikki Vaught

  Copyright © 2012 by Vikki Vaught.

  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 author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Late June 1823

  While Jonathan St. John, the Marquess of Sutherland, lay in bed looking around the room of his latest mistress Alana, he realized that even though she was beautiful with her long, rich, sable-brown hair, startling golden eyes, and a figure as voluptuous as any man could ask for, he was already tired of her.

  Jonathan was thirty years old and had had a dozen of mistresses over the last eight years. While all of them were beautiful, none of them could hold his interest for very long. Oh, they were all sexually alluring and well trained in all the sensual arts, but after a while he lost interest in every one of them. He found himself growing bored faster than usual with his most recent mistresses. It was as if he’d even lost interest in sex. Physically, his body still responded, but mentally, he was somewhere else.

  At two and twenty, Jonathan had returned from Waterloo a broken man. He’d joined the army when Bonaparte escaped from Elba. Because his father didn’t want him to enlist as a foot soldier, he’d bought him a commission, and since his brother Roderick refused to stay behind, he came along also.

  The injuries Jonathan sustained during the battle still pained him today. Because of his bad knee, he’d lost his fiancée, Susannah, when he came back from the war. She had refused to marry a cripple. He suffered from terrible nightmares and…he was a drunk. In essence, he was going through the motions of life and letting it pass him by.

  Alana stretched, purring like a cat. He knew he’d pleasured her well because he was an expert lover, but he was completely unmoved by their sexual encounter. It was definitely time for their liaison to end. Jonathan rolled out of bed and stood up, leaned over, and pulled on his black satin knee breeches over his muscular buttocks and thighs.

  Alana sat up and gave him a sultry look. “Darling, why are you getting out of bed? I thought you were going to spend the night. Please come back. I’m sure I can revive you, if you’ll give me a chance.” She pulled him to her and began stroking his cock through his breeches, but he remained unmoved by her touch.

  “Alana, I’m not in the mood, and I just want to go home. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. I just need to leave. Besides, I never stay all night. You know that.”

  He reached for his startling-white, fine lawn shirt, pulled it over his head and broad shoulders, then tucked it into his breeches. He put on his deep blue embroidered waistcoat and pulled his dress coat on over it. Once he finished dressing, he ran his fingers through his thick, jet black hair and smoothed it down, giving it some semblance of order. He took a deep breath, clenched his straight white teeth, and turned around.

  Softening the expression in his brilliant blue eyes, Jonathan gave her one of his sardonic smiles. “My dear, I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together. However, I’ve decided that it’s time to end our liaison.”

  “What do you mean it’s time to end our liaison? We had an agreement that I would be your mistress for twelve months, and we’ve only been together for three. I turned down several very good protectors for you!” She stood up, her eyes on fire with indignation as she walked over to him. “I’ve given you no reason to want to end our liaison. Sexually, we’re extremely compatible. Give me a chance to prove it to you.” She lifted up on her tiptoes and gave him a searing kiss as she stroked his cock.

  He felt a stirring of desire and returned her kiss but then pushed her away. “I know what our contract states. I’ll fulfill those terms until you can find another protector. I’m sure one of those men you turned down will be happy to take my place. You’re more than welcome to stay in this house while you find a new protector. My secretary, Stebbins, will pay all your expenses, within reason of course, and you’ll receive a new diamond necklace for your trouble. I’m leaving London at the end of the week, so I will bid you adieu.”

  Jonathan turned around, picked up his silver-headed walking stick and left the room. As he closed the door, he heard a crash and breaking glass, and Alana shouting profanities. Obviously she wasn’t taking their parting well at all. He made his way down the stairs, picked up his top hat and kidskin gloves, then laboriously made his way out of the house.

  When he stepped down onto the sidewalk, he motioned to his driver to bring him his carriage. When the carriage pulled to a stop, he gingerly pulled himself inside. His knee was killing him, and it was beginning to swell.

  As Jonathan fell back against the tufted dark red velvet cushions, he rubbed his knee, trying to alleviate some of his pain. His leg was acting up, so he knew the weather was getting ready to turn. He tapped the roof and told his driver to take him to his club. Pulling his flask from the inside pocket of his dress coat, he took a large swig of brandy. Jonathan needed the brandy to steady his nerves. He knew he was drinking too much, but couldn’t seem to help it. It was the only thing that seemed to deaden the pain.

  When he arrived at White’s, he carefully got out of his carriage, climbed the stairs, and went into his club. While he stood at the entrance to the card room, he scanned the room, looking for his friend Baron Kenneth Jenkins. He spied him sitting at a table involved in a card game with Bentley, Masters, and Wilkins. Jonathan slowly made his way across the room. “Good evening. Can I join you gentlemen?”

  Jenkins glanced over at Jonathan and grinned. “What are you doing here? I thought you were spending the evening with the delectable Alana. Of course you can join us. Masters just folded so you can take his place.”

  Jonathan sat down, and they began a round of whist. He enjoyed the occasional game of cards, but he was very careful that he didn’t lose too much money. If the cards were against him, he would fold and discontinue playing. Luck was with him tonight, and soon he had a pile of coins in front of him. Bentley and Wilkins folded and left the table.

  While he sat there smoking a cigar and enjoying a brandy, he looked over at Jenkins. “I ended my liaison with Alana tonight. I’ve become bored with her and no longer want her as my mistress.”

  Jenkins took a sip of his brandy and then laughed. “Sutherland, you go through mistresses faster that anyone I know, but even for you this is fast. You’ve only had her for what, three months? Have you already found someone new?”

  Jonathan leaned back in his chair while adjusting his intricately tied cravat. “No, I haven’t. I’ve decided I’ll take a break and not have a mistress for a while. If I feel the need for sex, I’ll go to a house of pleasure instead. That will be less trouble. Mistresses are too demanding, and I can’t be bothered trying to please them. Oh, by the way, I’m leaving London at the end of the week. I haven’t been to my estate since March, and I’m bored with the season.”

  With a look of astonishment on his face, Jenkins asked, “When did you decide to leave London? You didn’t say anything about leaving this morning when we went to Tattersall’s. Aren’t you supposed to buy that matched pair of dappled grays you were looking at? We both agreed they’re real goers and would be perfect for your new phaeto
n.”

  “Oh yes, I’m definitely buying the pair, but that won’t keep me from leaving. I’ve been thinking of leaving London for a while now, but I just didn’t say anything about it. The amusements of London have lost much of their appeal. I made the decision to go back to Bath this evening when I realized how utterly bored I am. Why don’t you come with me? I have a lake on my estate and we can do some fishing. You can’t tell me you’re not getting tired of the season. Besides, it’s almost over anyway, and I’d enjoy your company.”

  “I haven’t been fishing in years. I find the idea very entertaining. I’ll be happy to come for a visit, but I can’t leave town until next week. Would it be all right if I came then?”

  “Come whenever it’s convenient for you. I’ll look forward to you joining me next week. Well, I’m going to head home. I have quite a bit to accomplish if I’m leaving town by the end of the week. I’ll see you soon.” Jonathan stood up and almost lost his balance. He realized that the brandy was beginning to affect him.

  Jenkins stood up, grabbing Jonathan’s arm to help steady him. “Do you need help getting to your carriage? I can tell your knee’s bothering you.”

  “No, I’m fine. See you next week,” he said, as he staggered out of the room.

  Jonathan went outside, hailed his coach, and went to his townhouse in Bloomsbury. It was no longer one of the best parts of town, but his townhouse had been in the family for several generations. When he arrived, he climbed out, went up the steps, and unlocked his door. He picked up a candelabrum that was waiting for him and slowly made his way up the stairs.

  His valet, Hatton, was waiting for him, but Jonathan wasn’t in the mood to have Hatton fuss over him, so he sent him off to bed. He made it as far as the chair by the fireplace and collapsed. His knee was causing him a great deal of pain tonight.

  When he was injured, the surgeons had wanted to remove his leg, but thankfully, he was lucid enough to refuse the procedure. His brother Roderick had been there to make sure they didn’t proceed. Roderick could be very intimidating since he was such a large man, and he had convinced the surgeons to leave Jonathan’s leg alone.

  While it pained him a great deal much of the time, he would still rather have it than the alternative. It bothered him most late at night, especially if it rained.

  Once Jonathan sat there relaxing for about thirty minutes, he was finally able to get up and remove his clothes. He went to the basin and washed off the smell of sex before donning his dark blue silk banyan. He went over to the table, poured a large glass of brandy, and proceeded to drink until he knew he would finally be able to sleep.

  Jonathan hated the fact that he needed so much brandy, but it had been that way ever since Waterloo. Lately it seemed to take more and more brandy before he felt any relief. He felt himself begin to doze off, so he made his way to his bed and fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Around three in the morning, he began tossing and turning in his sleep. Oh God, no. Everywhere he looked he saw dead and dying men. He was fighting off three Frenchmen when one of them shot his horse out from under him. He felt himself falling. He was able to roll clear of his horse, but just as he gained his footing, something slammed into him. As he hit the ground, he knew he was done for, and he felt himself begin to lose consciousness. The next thing he knew, he heard the surgeons talking about his leg, saying that it needed to come off. He started yelling, “No, you will not…cut off…my leg! Dammit…leave…me…alone!” Jonathan let out a scream as he woke up from his nightmare.

  Covered in sweat and his heart pounding, it took a few moments for Jonathan to realize it had only been a dream. He hated the nightmares. That was one of the reasons he drank so much before he went to bed. It helped to keep the nightmares away and helped him deal with the pain. He must have failed to drink enough last night.

  Why couldn’t he get some peace from this torment?

  Jonathan lay there fighting the need to go back to sleep, fearing more nightmares. Pulling himself out of bed, he made it to the table where he kept his decanter of brandy and poured a glass. He gulped it down, refilled it, and drank that too. He limped over to his chair, collapsed into it, and continued to drink. Slowly he lost his battle to stay awake and slipped back to sleep.

  The next morning Jonathan woke up exhausted. When he looked at himself in the mirror while shaving, he wasn’t surprised that he looked so haggard. There were dark circles under his eyes, and the lines on his forehead looked deeper than usual. He looked like hell and felt years older than thirty. In many ways, he felt as if he were a hundred.

  Jonathan tried to shake off the melancholy and slowly finished his ablutions. He had a blinding headache and felt nauseous. He knew it was from all the brandy he drank the night before. Hatton was there with his restorative, which he mixed for him each morning. He dressed in the clothes Hatton had laid out for him and tried to concentrate on the things that he needed to take care of that day.

  Once Jonathan was dressed, he went down to the breakfast room and attempted to eat his morning meal, but he just couldn’t stomach the thought of food and gave up. Even though it was only noon, he craved the oblivion that the brandy gave him, but he resisted the temptation. There were quite a few things he needed to do today if he was going to be able to leave town in three days.

  Jonathan left for his solicitor’s office, since he had an appointment with him at one o’clock. They were going to go over some recent investments he’d made. Although he was a wealthy landowner with holdings scattered all over England, he religiously looked for new investments to enrich the marquessate for future generations. He had always enjoyed a challenge and dabbling with investments was definitely that. It was just about the only thing in his life he could still get excited about.

  The next two days were brutal. Each day, Jonathan needed more brandy to sleep, and the pain in his knee was worse than it had been in a long time. Hatton kept trying to convince him to take laudanum, since he believed it would work better on his pain than liquor, but Jonathan refused.

  Finally it was Sunday, and Jonathan was ready to leave town. The trip to his estate took three days, and he stayed drunk the entire time to make the trip tolerable. Sitting in a cramped carriage was hell on his knee, and bouncing around on the rainy rutted roads wasn’t helping.

  As he drew near his home, he watched as the landscape changed to grassy limestone hills, woodlands, and cool, green ravines. Breathing in the clean countryside air, he felt himself begin to relax.

  His family seat was in Weston, which was south of the Cotswold Hills, and about five miles from the center of Bath. The closer he came to his estate, the better he felt. St. John’s Wood had been in the family ever since Queen Elizabeth gave it to the first marquess shortly after she ascended to the throne in 1558.

  Looking out of the window as the coach turned into the drive to his home, Jonathan noticed how neatly trimmed the boxwood hedges were, which ran along each side of the drive, and he anxiously awaited his first sight of his ancestral home, St. John’s Wood Manor.

  When it came into view, his heart swelled with love for his home. It was a Jacobean mellow-red brick manor with white stone window casings. There were wings on each side of the main house that had been added at the end of the last century. The overall effect was very pleasing to the eye—his home was as lovely as he remembered. Jonathan often wondered why he stayed away for so long whenever he came home and saw the beauty of his principle estate.

  When his carriage pulled up under the portico, his butler was already there to greet him. “My lord, it’s so good to see you. I received your message. Everything is ready, as you requested.”

  “Thank you, Goodman. Where’s my sister? I would have expected her to be here to greet me.” Just as Jonathan spoke these words, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a whirlwind coming his way. He turned and his little sister ran into his arms. She must have run quite a distance because her pretty pink cheeks were flushed from her exertion, and her long, golden hair wa
s hanging down her back, having lost all its hairpins.

  Grabbing Elaine around the waist, he hugged her close as she laughed up at him. “Jonathan, I’m so thrilled you’ve finally arrived! How long are you planning on staying? Please say you plan to stay for a good long time, because it’s dreadfully dull when you’re away!”

  “Hello, Princess. It’s good to know you missed me. I’m not sure how long I’m staying, but I know it will be at least through harvest time. After that, we’ll just have to wait and see. I’ve become terribly bored with town and just want the peace and quiet of home for a while. I received a letter from Roderick. He wants us to come for a visit, but I’m going to try to convince him to bring his family here instead.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful! I just love playing with my niece and nephew. Frankford and Jane are such sweet children. I haven’t seen them since last Christmas. If they can’t come, can we please go visit them?”

  “Yes, if they can’t come here, we’ll just have to make the trip to see them. Well, let me go in and get settled. We can talk more over dinner. Since we have no guests, you can dine with me tonight.”

  Jonathan and Elaine went into the house, and Jonathan went upstairs to his suite so he could wash away his travel dirt. Hatton came rushing into the room, began unpacking his belongings, and started putting them away. He was a very good valet, but Jonathan wished he wouldn’t hover over him quite so much.

  All the inactivity of traveling for three days had taken a toll on his knee and it was aching fiercely. Jonathan stripped down to his smalls, sat down in his deeply cushioned chair and put his leg up on the matching ottoman to take some strain off his knee.

  Hatton could always sense when Jonathan’s knee was bothering him, so he hastily applied a soothing balm, prepared the cold compresses, and wrapped them around Jonathan’s knee. Jonathan didn’t know what was in the special liniment that he used, but it always seemed to help. Hatton handed him a glass of brandy, and he drank it quickly, hoping that it would deaden the pain.