Lady Henrietta's Dilemma: Regency Suspense Romance Book 2 (Lords of Sussex) (11 page)

Henrietta followed the two officers to a sturdy carriage. She felt quite recovered and wished to ride, but with Vaughan absent, she had to submit to the arrangements. As they neared the carriage, she recognized the ducal crest.
Ambros? Her heart lifted. 

Beaming, he entered the carriage, resplendent in his scarlet red uniform, doffing his plumed hat to reveal the gleaming dark locks. Piercing blue eyes framed in smoky lashes roved over her.  However, she saw not lust, but care in them. ‘Thank you your Highness, but I really dreaded this journey. I will not know the other ladies, and I swear some of them will spend their time on the latest gossip.’

Grinning, he sat opposite her; in the heat of the carriage she should have space. ‘The carriage is yours milady. I’d hate to see you stifled in a carriage with four or five other ladies.’ Gratefully she sank back against the silk brocade squabs, at least she had the carriage to herself and could freely open the windows.  At present, the temperature was bearable; she knew with the soaring continental heat, they would soon divest themselves of hats and jackets.

‘I ordered extra cushions and a silken throw so you can rest at ease, perhaps slumber when you wish.’

‘Thank you. I am so relieved, Ambros; it was not going to be easy with the other ladies squashed in here. Thank goodness fashion dictates the slimmer skirts; I know not how the ladies who still insist on crinolines will cope in the other carriages.’

‘Yes I agree, today’s fashion enhances the slender lines of the female figure.  Those dreadful crinolines cover every luscious curve.’

‘It is too early in the day to flirt Ambros, and remember you talk to a married woman.’

‘All the more reason to flirt, I can say the most outrageous things without having to marry you. But then I contradict myself, for I fully intend marrying you.’

‘Now, don’t start again,’ she said, laughing.

Grinning, he took a basket from the footman, followed by a small wicker basket covered with linen. ‘Good Jacobs, now bring the extra cushions, the silk coverlets and the ice box with the wines.’   He turned to Henrietta, ‘We might as well enjoy the journey; I have some tempting victuals and wine on ice.’

‘So, you will be with me all day? Impossible. What on earth will my husband say?’

‘He is in agreement; he is aide de campe to General Althorpe and must be at his side. I, however, am a free agent.’

Perplexed, Henrietta sat back, ‘But you did not ask me Ambros.’

‘It will be a rough ride milady, and you need protection not just from lusting soldiers, but from any mishaps on the way. We will cover some wild terrain, and often a surging river or swollen stream.’

‘And you think me quite inept in coping with such travails?’

‘Let us be sensible here, Henrietta; I am not demeaning the power of your mind, just your physical capabilities.’

‘And you think the female lacks common sense?’

‘Come on my pet, you know you could not fight off a determined soldier.’

‘I fought off highwaymen, I’ll have you know.’

Ambros looked down, feverishly thinking how he could get her off the
subject, surely she would make the link? 

Fortunately, the footman interrupted any more conversation. ‘Your Grace, this is rather heavy.’ He thrust through the wooden ice box and bottles of wine.’

‘Thank you Jacobs, now you and Ted will ride at the back, whilst young John, will ride postilion on the left rear horse. To his relief, Henrietta’s attention immediately reverted to the ice box. ‘How ingenious, so the ice is in there?’

‘Yes, lined with zinc, slate and straw, the ice will keep for the day.’

The carriage rolled forward taking its place amongst marching soldiers, cavalry officers, the soldiers’ families, and straggling groups of camp followers, now burgeoning as men, women and children joined the march along the way.

Henrietta felt a sense of excitement, far better this, than sitting at one of those boring afternoon scandal teas, or working her tapestry with her mother and her companion. Then, there was that dreadful sewing circle where they sat making clothes for the estate workers families.
No Henrietta was definitely not one of the inveterate needlewomen; she'd far rather have her nose buried in a book or be out walking her dogs or riding.

She watched Ambros now settle beside her, his long legs stretched out, as he rested his boots on the opposite seat.  Sighing, he took some papers from a satchel. ‘I’m afraid I must study these. Do you need anything to amuse you?’

A ripple ran through her stomach. Yes, your kisses, your arms about me.   Shocked with her thought, she remained silent, a deep red flush rising from her chest to her forehead. If he noticed, he said nothing, whilst she stiffened, envisioning him pulling down her bodice. She actually wanted him to do it.  Where on earth did that come from? 

She squeaked, ‘Yes; I have something to read.’  Burrowing in her bag, she brought out a
softbound book. ‘I intend to read, seeing that I will have some peace and quiet. I’m glad I decided to carry my book with me.’

Catching the title, he said, ‘It’s Mrs Radcliffe today then, not Plato?’ 

Feeling the heat between her legs, she squeezed her thighs, stuttering, ‘I need some relief and Mrs. Radcliffe’s Mysteries of Udolpho will do – just nicely. It has over six hundred pages and will last the journey.’

‘Hmm,’ his eyes darted to the enticing flush of her bosom, ‘yes relief – quite.’

Relief? Henrietta swallowed, why did she use that word; she'd never thought of Mrs. Radcliffe as a relief? It insinuated naughty things. He’d caught up on it immediately. She saw the sly look, the smirk. Her fingers shaking, she opened the book; she'd never felt such heat, such tingling, if those were the right words. What had heat and tingling to do with the naughty things men did to women? Visions of his body rose before he. She had not even peeked at Vaughan’s yet. She had either refused or been sea-sick.  She glanced at him, surely he heard the thudding of her heart? No, he remained quiet, the rustle of his papers, the only sound in the carriage.

Forcing herself to remain calm, she opened the book, concentrating on the words on the page.  Within minutes, she recovered, as the poetry and sweet prose calmed her.  But then, her eyes widened as she read ‘The Duke de Joyeuse…’  She frowned, remembering the young footman – his words to Ambros, Your Grace
.
’   Not ‘Your Highness’, but ‘Your Grace.’ Biting her lip, she turned to look at him. The dark smoky lashes lowered, the fine lips and angular jaw with just the faintest hint of black stubble. She wanted to rub her cheek against it.

God he was glorious, yet the words trembled from her lips. ‘Ambros … the footman addressed you as “Your Grace?” Is he, a simpleton or some such…?’

Ambros felt his stomach jerk, damn; it slipped his mind; he was so full of her, so intent on amusing her; he'd forgotten, just for that moment.

He had not reckoned on telling her on the journey, not locked in a carriage.

He felt as if he was walking towards the scaffold; would she reprieve him, forgive him? Thankfully the carriage moved at a fast pace; they had yet to hit the stony ground. She couldn’t jump from the carriage. ‘What I have to tell you, shames me Henrietta.’

Alarmed, Henrietta leant back away from him, he had lost that easy smile, and his eyes darkened. Nodding, she remained silent.

‘Now where to begin? As I said before, I first saw you on the quayside. You shone – a jewel in the rays of the setting sun. I was undone. I had to know you. Then I recognized the man beside you, and forgive me my dear, but I foresaw your future as grey.  Discovering you were newly married, I tried to accept the situation, tried to erase you from my mind. Then I played cards with your erstwhile husband and won.  As he could not meet his debt, he offered me – you.  Forgive me m’dear, but I … I paid to have access to you when I wished.’

‘What. How dare you. I cannot believe it. You bought me?’

‘Rather me than a few other rakes at the table.’

‘So my dance card?
That was part of it? But, there were different names on the card. Why I even remember—’

‘They were all written by
myself.’

‘But he would not, could not – sell his wife?’

‘Hmm tis done frequently, especially at the gaming hells. I could not leave you to the mercy of other men. I knew I would not ruin you. Henrietta; he deserted you; left you to the mercy of any officer with evil intentions. You may have taken a carriage home – a lady forsaken, alone on the streets of Ostend?  You could easily have been abducted, never to be seen again.  It does not bear thinking about.’

Shocked, heart breaking, Henrietta fought to keep her composure.  ‘I would have looked after myself – you seem to have this poor view of me, that I’m some hapless—’

‘Face it my lady, there are times when you are hapless – times when you are at the mercy of a man’s whim.’ 

‘So how come your footman addressed you as your Grace?’

‘I thought to have a disguise, if I had a royal title, you would not deny me.  Out of a sense of proprietary, you would accept the dance.  I actually did not lie outright, as I do also have the title His Royal Highness, Salmis el Wrangel title, but it is a principality almost defunct; the other blood lines encroached upon it.’

‘So who are you pray?’

‘The Duke of Wiltshire at your service madam. As you know, I have only recently come into the title.’

‘I know not how I can even look at my husband again. All I wish at the
moment, is that I could escape, return to my home, my family.’

‘That you will, I promise.’ 

‘You say that too easily, you deceived me, how can I trust you now?’ Henrietta paled, her heart thumping.  She knew she had no option but to remain with Vaughan until she could reach Isabella and Lord Fitzroy, they were the only two she could now trust.

‘Forgive me Henrietta, I am now ashamed of my behaviour, but I swear I will protect you with my life. Please believe me.’

She stalled, biting her lip, she had come to more than like this audacious man with his easy smile, and gentle charm.  Even though he flirted outrageously with her, it was the norm in the
ton
.

‘You have every reason to distrust me, hate me even, but ever since I beheld you on the foredeck, I had to know you.’  Being a gentleman, he refrained from revealing Bruges
’ brutal nature.  There must be a way to show her.

Henrietta frowned; he had to be made aware she was not a lady of easy virtue, for which, she would rein in his flirtatious behaviour. ‘Ambros only days ago, I stood at the altar, at my husband’s side, and said my vows to love and obey him, to be faithful to him. I am not about to dismiss them. How can I say this, he –he has been patient with me and not demanded….’
She cast her eyes unable to finish the sentence. Taking a shallow breath she continued, ‘Even though I am horrified with his monstrous behaviour I must hear it from his own lips.’

‘Patient you say?
’ Ambros said, his eyes narrowing. From the sounds of it, the marriage was unconsummated.  All well and good, perhaps he could even save her before the devil got her with child. ‘My dear, let me protect you, you do not need to go back to him.’

‘I thank you for your concern.’ As she spoke, her voice trembled, the tears falling. ‘I cannot just leave my husband on your word, but I hope I can count upon you as my friend. ’ She caught her breath; even though she wept, she felt an anger rise within her, a need to
fight, it seemed this anger brought forth a courage she never knew she had.

‘I am honoured my lady.’ Looking out of the window, he frowned. ‘Hmm, seems we have reached the river. It’s quite swollen, so hold on tight.’

He poked his head out, shouting directions to the grooms and footmen. ‘Get on the front horses.’ To two other men footmen he cried, ‘Guide the back of the carriage.

Closing the window, he sat down opposite her. ‘Methought to have some victuals and wine, but now I would advise you to cling onto the ropes.
’  He pointed to some silken coils hanging down the side of the carriage.

As Henrietta held onto the chords, she heard men shouting outside, and then the carriage jolted to one side. Within seconds, it rolled down the steep embankment to the shouts and screams outside.

Flinging open the window, Ambros looked out to see the front horses thrashing in the water, whilst the back two tried to swim. ‘Damn – do as I tell you Jacob, get on the front horses backs – now – do it now.’  He realized one of the horses must have taken fright and alarmed the others.  He watched a groom frantically trying to climb on the back of one of the leading horses only to be flung off. Yet another groom swam around the other side, intent on clambering onto the back of the other lead horse, its legs flailing in the swollen waters.  He realized they were going in deeper. ‘There’s a vicious current your Grace,’ one of the grooms shouted. 

Henrietta clung onto the ropes, her face white, eyes widening.  She tried not to cry out, that would alarm the horses even more, but then the carriage jerked again to one side – rolling. Within seconds, she felt Ambros’s arms around her, saw him kick the door, only for the weight of the waters to hold it fast. ‘Dammit.’ He turned to see water seeping through the windows. They were too small to be an escape hole.  Gritting his teeth, he looked up at the roof. Standing, he unclipped a catch holding up a trap door. Reaching up, he pushed it open. His voice terse he said, ‘Now, I am going to lift you up, and I want you to climb up onto the roof.  There are handholds, so just sit there and hold on tight.’

Her face white, Henrietta nodded; this newborn courage to brave the situation, was strange but invigorating. They had to move and move fast; otherwise, they would drown in the carriage. She felt him propel her through the opening.  As she clambered onto the roof, she found the handles and clung on. Looking around her, she could see soldiers, women and children struggling in the waters. Ambros’s men now sat on the lead horses frantically trying to guide them through.

On the opposite bank, she saw others fighting to keep afloat in the water. Mothers screamed, wrestling with the current, carrying the infants high as the older children clung to their waists. More soldiers waded
in, weapons aloft; as yet, more carriages floundered in the water.  She saw Ambros heave himself up on the roof.

Patting her hand, he said, ‘Just hold tight now, the grooms have the horses under control.’ However, as he spoke, the screams of a woman rent the air, as her infant and small child were swept away. He saw one man swim after them, but it was obvious he could not save the two. Struggling out of his jacket and peeling off his boots Ambros dived into the waters after him. 

Henrietta could only watch, as his muscled arms stroked through the waves. To her relief, the soldier caught the infant, and Ambros swam after the little girl, her long tendrils of red hair floating on the water. But, the child disappeared as he reached for her. Treading water, he looked around, but in vain. From the carriage roof, Henrietta espied the long hair waving beneath the water. Screaming out to him, she caught his attention and pointed down.

She watched Ambros dive underwater, but after a minute, her alarm rose, as he did not reappear. She looked at spot where he’d disappeared. Where was he? Had he drowned? Gritting her teeth, she ripped off her skirts down to her pantaloons
, and kicked off her slippers. Ignoring the shouts of the men already in the water she dived in, swimming strongly to where Ambros disappeared.

Raking in a deep breath, she dived underwater, only to find it dark and murky, the reeds making it almost impossible to see anything. Through swimming in the old pond at the estate, she was used to the darkness. Rising up, she broke through the surface, and took another deep breath before diving back down again. Turning, she looked around and dived deeper; bubbles escaping from her mouth rose up above the reeds.  She had to find Ambros and the child soon; they must be out of breath. Ahead, she espied a patch of white cloth, yes; it must be him. Swimming towards it, she saw the red hair whirling among the reeds. Thank God, but was she in time?

She swam towards Ambros, to see him and the child trapped in the weeds, fighting to hold their breath.  Grabbing Ambros’s arm, she pointed to her mouth and sped up to the surface. Taking another deep breath, she ploughed back down, and putting her lips to the child’s mouth, blew in some air. Repeating her efforts, she returned to blow precious air into Ambros’s mouth, before fighting to free them, with her lungs almost bursting.  To her relief, Ambros managed to kick free and shot to the surface with the child. 

Lifting her head above water, she saw Ambros clambering up the bank; the child limp in his arms, the mother with the infant in her arms, weeping above him. Oh dear God, was it too late?  Swimming over to join them, she climbed up the bank, covered in mud as she followed him. 

A group gathered around Ambros, as he laid the child on the grass. The little mite lay still and white, her red locks streaming like blood. She saw him lift her, positioning the limp head lower than her feet. Yet, after a few shakes, the child remained still. As the murmurs of the group rose, he pressed her small stomach several times, but to no avail.

‘Breathe into her mouth – try the Amsterdam way.’ Henrietta said in a low determined voice.