Her Irresistible Charmer: A Regency Historical Romance (The Worthington Legacy Book 4)

Prologue

Her twin sister had gone mad.

Camilla Hardy stood on the steps of Blackwood Asylum, unanswered questions pounding in her head. Periodic dementia… unresolved melancholy, the physician had written. It had to be a mistake.

Loathing the long wait for assistance, Camilla shivered. Her cloak offered paltry protection against the wind. The moon’s pale light shone on the dull mahogany entryway. Shadows lurked all around and forced her to huddle closer to the scarred door. An owl’s hoot echoed through the nearby forest. The disconcerting sound grated on her already frazzled nerves.

Camilla knocked on the door, not once, but three times. Still, no one answered. An abominable sting throbbed in her knuckles, and she rubbed the ache. She glared at the double doors’ warped planks and rusted hinges. Craning her neck, she peered down the side of the building.

Perhaps there was another entrance. Obviously, nobody cared to receive visitors at this one. Before she could move off the step, the old door squeaked open. A stooped man peeked around the thick wood. He held up a lantern, and the mellow light illuminated the deep creases in his face.

“May I be of some assistance?” he asked in a scratchy voice.

She bundled her cloak around her throat and stepped closer. “I am Lady Hardy. I received a letter from Dr. Smythe concerning my sister, Katherine Worthington. Is the good physician here?”

The elderly man squinted. “I am Smythe. I sent the letter.”

She raised her brows. “Where is your caretaker, sir?”

“We have but a small staff, my lady. Everyone does what they can.” He opened the door wider. “Please, follow me. I shall take you to your sister.”

Camilla stepped into the dark corridor and lowered the hood of her cape. The stench of unwashed bodies and urine filled her nostrils, curdling her stomach. She fished through her wrist-purse and pulled out her handkerchief, quickly pressing the rose-scented cloth to her nose. In haste, she hurried her gait to catch up to the physician, and followed him down the shadowed hall.

Each room she passed had bars on the small windows of the doors. People stood behind them, watching her with wide, glassy eyes, as though they looked right through her. Chills trickled down her spine. Were these patients dangerous? And why, pray tell, was her sister here?

Answers. She needed them soon or she would be the one going insane.

“Excuse me, sir. How long has my sister been here?” she asked, lowering the handkerchief.

“For a fortnight.”

“Then why was I not informed sooner?”

“Because it took her this long to start talking.”

Worry clenched Camilla’s heart. What on earth had happened to Kat?

The elderly man stopped in front of a door and withdrew a heavy set of iron keys fastened to his waist. He inserted the key and turned it with a loud click.

“Is a locked door necessary for my sister?” She spoke in soft tones, afraid her voice would carry through the halls.

The stern expression on the man’s face never wavered. His white, bushy brows pulled together in concern. “Aye.”

“May I ask why?”

“She is not well, Lady Hardy. Locking the door is for her safety.”

Camilla’s heart sank, and she frowned. Could her sister be ailing as their father had? No, certainly not. Kat had never been ill a day in her life. Signs would have shown if her twin suffered the same malady as their father. The physician must be speaking of a different person altogether.

He pushed the door open, wide enough for her to enter. Camilla straightened and took the lantern from his outstretched hand. With her chin held high, she proceeded into the room. Now was not the time to appear frightened, even if her heart hammered so fast, she feared it would bruise a rib or two.

Through the barred window, the quarter moon’s silver light cast shadows about the room. The only piece of furniture was a bed with a threadbare mattress. One worn brown blanket covered the feet of the figure on the bed curled on her side, staring toward the door.

Camilla’s heart wrenched at the sight of her sibling. It had been two years since Kat entered into a quick marriage to a man she had barely met. Camilla wanted to attend the marriage ceremony and meet her new brother-in-law, but she had been in Scotland visiting her in-laws during that time, sharing their grief after the death of her husband.

The person Camilla remembered while growing up looked nothing like the woman in this room. Matted light brown hair framed the woman’s face in wild disarray, and the gray of the hospital gown erased all color from her complexion. Dull eyes, drooped to half-mast, slowly lifted and met Camilla’s gaze.

“I will be right outside if you need me,” the physician said before leaving.

The door slammed shut and Camilla jumped. Forcing a smile, she lifted a hand to her chest to calm herself. “Oh, Kat, I came as soon as I heard you were here.”

Kat scooted on the bed, pulled her legs up, and rested her chin on her knees. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t think Lord Hardy would allow you to leave.”

Camilla stepped into the room, closer to the bed. “Kat, Fredrick died a month before you married Mr. Worthington. Do you not remember?”

Kat’s forehead creased as she stared at a spot on the bed. “Oh, yes. I remember now.”

“Kat, what has happened to you?”

She tilted her head, and her gaze touched the wall behind Camilla as if she struggled to see. “I could not take any more torment, so I left.”

“Torment? From whom?”

“From my cursed husband.” She clenched both fists as if ready to strike something.

Camilla lowered the lantern to the floor and rushed to the bed, clasping her sister’s hands. “Please tell me what he did to you.”

Kat finally turned her stare onto Camilla. “All he wanted from me was a woman to do his bidding. He only wanted a mother to care for his children—not a wife to love and cherish. He treated me like a mere servant.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Camilla, he beat me when I didn’t instantly do his bidding. He mocked me in front of his friends.” More tears joined the others streaming down her face. “He didn’t care if his children disobeyed me. I couldn’t control them. He made them hate me.”

Camilla’s heart twisted and her mind scrambled for something encouraging to say. She realized she should have come straight home after her husband died instead of visiting his family in Scotland. If Camilla had returned home, perhaps she could have stopped her sister from marrying such an ungodly man.

Gently, she squeezed Kat’s frail fingers. “Kat? Why did you come here to Preston? Why didn’t you stay in Dorchester?”

Kat’s lips curled up into a smile. “A minister who was on his way home to Preston helped me. He took pity on my plight and let me ride with him.”

“Why did you come to this kind of institution instead of to my home?”

“The minister insisted this would be the safest place, Milla.”

“But Kat, why would a minister leave you in such a godforsaken place?”

“He says I have melancholy. Dr. Smythe agrees.”

Tears filled Camilla’s eyes, but she forced herself to take control of her emotions. Her sister didn’t belong here, and Camilla would not allow her to stay. She straightened her shoulders. “What do you want me to do? How can I get you out?”

Kat shook her head until her chin limply fell on her chest. She rested her forehead back on her knees. “They will not let me out until I’m well.”

“I shall help you any way I can.” Camilla lifted her sister’s chin and looked into her dazed eyes. “I want you well and away from this horrid place.”

“I cannot leave. If I do, I will have to go back to Malcolm.” Kat twisted a lock of matted hair around a finger. “Please, Milla, don’t make me go back to him. If he discovers I have given him more bills to pay because of my illness, my torture will only worsen.” She whined in a childish tone, “I would rather die here than endure the constant pain of being married to that monster.”

Camilla touched her sister’s hand, stopping her from knotting her hair any further. “I shall get you out of this place. Staying in this hellhole would cause any sane person to be melancholy. And I shall hire the best physician in Preston to care for you.”

“Physicians cost money. I should know. The cost of staying here has depleted the small sum I pilfered from Malcolm.” Kat’s tone was bitter.

Camilla scrambled to think of a solution. She couldn’t leave her sister, and yet she couldn’t pay for her to stay. “I have a portion saved from when my husband died. I will give that to Dr. Smythe so he doesn’t charge your husband.”

Her sister pulled away. “Milla, it’s not possible. I’m certain you barely have enough to live. I recall Lord Hardy gambled a lot of his money before he died.”

Camilla nodded. “That he did, but he made money just as quickly.”

“Being an agent for the Crown made him money?”

“Yes. Every time he turned in a spy, the Crown rewarded him greatly.”

“So, will you have enough to pay for a good physician?”

“Just barely, but I’ll do all I can to get you well. If I don’t have enough, I shall obtain more.” She lifted her voice in anger. “In fact, I will write your husband and ask—”

“No, Milla, don’t bother. Malcolm will not give you anything. Why do you think I have been pilfering money from him? I know he will not give you his precious money. He is wealthy, but he does not enjoy sharing.”

“If he does not share with me, I shall have him arrested for… for… something. I will think of a way.” Camilla grumbled as resentment laced her words.

“Malcolm arrested? Doubtful that will ever happen. I have suspected he is doing something illegal in regard to his business partners, but I have not been able to prove it.” Kat released a dejected sigh. “Saying he will be arrested shall only give me hope for a better life. A life I know I cannot have.”

Camilla ran her hand across her twin sister’s matted hair again. Anger burned deep inside her that Kat had been reduced to this. If only Fredrick hadn’t died, she would have him investigate Malcolm Worthington. Then Kat’s life might be better. “If I cannot get the funds from your husband, I will find the money elsewhere.”

She waited for her sibling to speak, but Kat stared at the wall again. Camilla waited, wondering what her sister could be thinking, but she gazed into nothingness. Hesitantly, Camilla withdrew her touch. Soon, her twin rocked back and forth as she muttered incoherent words.

“Kat?” Camilla asked with a tight voice. When her sibling didn’t answer, tears stung Camilla’s eyes and a sob ready to come forth tightened her throat. “Kat, I’m here.” She gingerly touched her sister’s arm.

Kat jerked to a stop and swung her focus back to Camilla. “Do not worry about me, Milla. But promise me one thing?”

“Anything.” Camilla choked on a small sob.

“After I am dead, seek my husband and punish him for making me suffer this existence.” Kat lurched forward on the bed, grabbing Camilla’s wrists. Dirty fingernails cut painfully into her skin. “Make him suffer as I have suffered in my marriage these past eighteen months.”

“You are talking rubbish.” Fear gripped Camilla’s throat. “You are not going to die. You shall be just fine.”

“Please, promise me, Milla.”

Sadness shot through her heart, and she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. What had that man done to her once-vibrant sister? “I promise.”

Kat fell back on the bed in a heap. Mental withdrawal clearly engulfed her, and her blank stare was riveted on the dreary wall. Camilla’s chest constricted, making it hard to breathe. She couldn’t take any more of this. If she didn’t leave this place soon, she would be in a fit of tears herself.

As she stood, she studied her sister’s sick form. Once again, anger welled within her chest. Kat hadn’t deserved this fate. Camilla vowed she would make Malcolm Worthington pay. He had hurt her sister, which was unforgivable.

Camilla picked up the lantern, turned, and knocked on the cell door. It opened and Dr. Smythe peered inside. “Is everything all right, Lady Hardy?”

“I am ready to leave, if you please.”

He closed the door behind her and locked it, then led her to the front of the building. The hall echoed with cries from other patients. She cringed, wanting to cover her ears and run far away. Instead, she remained strong, if only in her appearance.

“Pardon me, sir, but is there any hope for my sister’s recovery?”

His lips pursed. “I have seen many in her condition. A few have survived, but most have not. Unfortunately, many take their own lives.”

She covered her mouth as a sob escaped her throat.

“I’m not saying the same fate will befall your sister,” he continued. “But I believe you should prepare for the worst.”

Irritation swept through her again, and she lifted a defiant chin. “I most certainly will not prepare myself for the worst, Dr. Smythe. My sister does not deserve to be in this place. I want Kat moved immediately.”

The older man shook his head. “That is impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible. My husband had connections before he died, and if I have to find one of his associates, I will. Mark my words, within a fortnight, my sister will be moved to a more stable facility.”

Marching past him and into the cool night air, she wrapped her heavy cloak around her, thwarting the chill, though her blood ran hot with volcanic anger. Straight ahead, her coach waited. The only servant left in her employ climbed down from the carriage and opened the door.

“’Ow is yer sister farin’, m’lady?”

“She is not well, Timothy.” A tear rolled down her already damp cheek, and she wiped away the moisture. “And that place is only making her condition worse.”

Timothy sniffed and swiped his sleeve under his nose. “Is she like yer father?”

“No, God rest his soul. Kat is not quite as bad, yet. I shall not let it go to that extreme. If I have to, I shall contact everyone I know who might be of assistance.” Determination guided her quick steps as she hastened into the coach. Timothy closed the door behind her.

One way or another, she would obtain the funds needed to move her—and to pay the medical bills. Her own deceased husband had gambled away all of his money before he met his maker, leaving her with very little to live on. She knew firsthand how a husband could torture his wife when not pleased, and she would make certain Mr. Worthington didn’t know about this extra expense so he wouldn’t punish Kat when she returned home.

Too bad someone couldn’t arrest that man for his devious lifestyle and free Kat. If only Fredrick was still alive, investigating Malcolm would be his newest pursuit. He’d thrived on the chase.

Rolling her eyes, Camilla ushered the ridiculous thought from her head. She had only been married to Lord Hardy for a few short years, but when he died, there was no grieving on her part. No, her beast of a husband was better off six feet under, in the cold ground.

Unfortunately, with his death, the money stopped as well. If only she could do something to earn a living. If only she could be a good agent like Lord Hardy had been. If only…

Her thoughts skidded to a halt, and she straightened on the leather seat. Why can’t I be an agent? Kat had let it slip about her traitorous husband doing something illegal in regard to his business partners. If Camilla could get enough information on the man to turn him in, surely they would see her value as an agent and enable her to pay for Kat’s care.

A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She could do it. She had spied on her husband often enough, and he had never had an inkling of her activities. Confidence grew inside her.

There was only one problem she could foresee. It had never been in her nature to act bold and forward. Could she possibly get the information she needed and force the Crown to listen to her?

Assertiveness had always been a part of Kat’s character. Now it was Camilla’s turn to be aggressive—and it frightened her nearly to death.