Lady Henrietta's Dilemma: Regency Suspense Romance Book 2 (Lords of Sussex) (4 page)

‘My dearest, you look upset. Pray forgive me, I did not realize, you cared for your lord so much.’

‘Is it that clear?  I am not sure Marissa; it just struck me that maybe my position as his mistress is not so secure.  La, he could meet another and reject me.’

‘Pray, worry not my dearest, who knows what goes on in the hearts of men. Methinks, tis their physical needs that are important.’

Nodding, Esther bit her lip. Yes, she would take him to her bed, as soon as he arrived, and keep him there. Meanwhile, her eyes roved the lawns looking out for the ardent young officer who pursued her at some distance. It might well be necessary to have a beau in readiness, but he was not in sight. ‘Changing the subject Marissa, pray tell me who is your seamstress? I just love the fabric flowers on the cuffs of your jacket.’ 

‘La, Madame Beauvois, a most esteemed modiste, and highly sought after. She has added a small train to the back of the dress, so it looks like a short jacket.’ She turned her body for Esther to see.

‘Why tis just the latest thing.
  I love the ruffles on your half boots as well, they complete the outfit.’

‘Well I must admit that Madame Beauvois made them, especially for me. My dear Captain insists I am ‘much dressed’ in the latest minute of fashion. Although our men plead they are not at all interested in the frippery of females, I swear they are.  Tis a sign of their own standing in the
beau ton,
as to how their wife or mistress is dressed.’

‘I agree. Also, it is alluring.  Please give me her address, and I shall visit. I do have need of a new gown and riding habit.’

‘La dearest Esther, tis difficult to procure her services. However, I will put in a word for you.’ Raising her little whip, she said, ‘See, she also bound this to match.’ Chattering, the two young women rode slowly up to the refreshment's area.

Turning to, her groom, she said, ‘Pray John, look after the horses for us.’ To Marissa she said, ‘Let us take of some tea. I hear they have the very latest blends here.’

Alighting with Jims’ help, they sauntered to the covered marquee taking spare seats near the entrance. Esther appeared unaware of the intense gaze of a certain Lieutenant Colonel.  Marissa, however, nudged her, ‘Dearest, there is a gorgeous gentleman giving you the most rapt attention. He’s standing with Bertie Templeton; such a fop, but really a nice man. At least, he won’t bother us; his passion is for … you know.’ 

‘So – what is the age of the other gentleman?’ Esther asked, not turning her head. ‘Not that I’m interested, I am faithful to Vaughan.’

Marissa cast her a sly glance, ‘La, I would guess - mid thirties. He wears two epaulettes on his shoulders, with bullion, a royal crown and a regimental star.’

‘Oh my God, he’s a lieutenant colonel. I’m not interested, but we will be polite.   La, I can’t breathe Marissa.’

Lieutenant Colonel David Penfold, Viscount Palmerston, almost gasped as he gazed at Esther. She was the image of his dear wife, a wife whose untimely death he still mourned.  Stroking his angular jaw, he turned to his companion. ‘Egad Bertie, d’you see her, the young woman over there, the one with the auburn hair, blue bonnet – feathers? Tis my Amelia. She could be her twin.’ 

His companion nodded. ‘Quite the little sweetie, but, she’s Bruges’s mistress.  She’s spoken for old man.’

‘Don’t be such a cake Bertie, no woman is spoken for. She’s a Cyprian demme; I must speak with her. Will you introduce me?’

‘I do wish you’d stop calling me that.  It’s bad enough as it is. A least fop sounds better than cake.’ Bertie flicked back a blond curl from his forehead, his reddened lips pouting. ‘Be prepared, I hear she is loyal to Bruges. Word has
it, she comes from an ancient line of baronets – no money there. Father gambled away the estate, and their lives – mother took an overdose.’

‘Hmm – so she is a fallen innocent?’ Well let’s get on with it man.’

Marissa’s hand tightened on Esther’s arm. ‘They’re coming over – don’t look.’

Hearing a polite cough, Esther raised her head
, to look up at a dashing officer in his scarlet uniform.  She lowered her eyes, sitting quite still until Lord Herbert Templeton said in dulcet tones, ‘Mistress Esther, may I introduce Lieutenant Colonel Penfold, Viscount Palmerston.’

‘My lord, I am honoured.’ Esther rose, giving a pretty curtsey to him and holding out her hand.

‘Likewise little lady,’ he murmured, kissing the air above her knuckles.  His heart beat faster, as he gazed into jade eyes framed with double black eyelashes.  By God, she was exquisite. May I offer you two ladies a drink, Ratafia perhaps?’

Esther fluttered her eyelashes demurely, as he towered above her, his dark hair framing an olive skinned face, more fierce than handsome with a thin scar running from the top of his right ear to the side of an aquiline nose.  A soft smile lightened the ferocity of his gaze. Her heart raced; this was a scarred Adonis, compelling
, and just a little frightening. ‘Thank you; a lemon tea would be very nice.’

Marissa smiled, ‘I too – thank you,
my lord.’

‘Maybe a syllabub?’

Both women shook their heads. Marissa said, ‘T’would quite spoil my appetite for dinner, but again, thank you.’

As he sauntered away to the drinks' table, Esther nudged Bertie, ‘My Lord, he is newly arrived in Brussels?’

‘Err … yes, a friend of mine. He is much taken with you Esther.’

‘Be it so my lord, I am abashed.  But Lord Bruges will soon be here.’

‘Ah yes, I see, but until then may we have pleasure of your delightful company?’

The Viscount stood at the counter, he felt his pulses race, the girl was beautiful, discreet and lady like, a higher level of mistress indeed. Although fond of Constantia, his present mistress, he found her somewhat tiresome. The creature had a habit of whining if she wanted something from a bracelet to a carriage. Repeatedly, he’d said, ‘Please my dear, just ask – just ask. I will not refuse, unless of course, it is a fortune.’ At which point she would wring her delicate hands, with tears brimming; the slightest remonstrance from him could bring on the vapours.

She also had the habit of stamping on his foot, just as he exchanged pleasantries with a fetching woman. The only thing that kept him with her was her incredible art in the bedroom. If he could bind her mouth, she would be more pleasing. He knew Captain Wetherstone was quite taken with her.  Perhaps, there was a way out after all.

Smiling at his ploy, he returned to the small table, placing the drinks in front of them. Claiming the seat right next to Esther, he pulled it forward, his thigh lightly touching hers. 

He noticed Esther frown
, and tilting her chin, swished her skirt.  Hmm, better to take things slowly.

Looking up into his dark chocolate eyes, Esther’s heart rippled, he was indeed a beau and a
viscount. She was loyal to Vaughan, but she had her future to think of. He was now married, and it would not be long before he began filling the nursery.  It may prove to be a hazardous time for her. He’d saved her from a terrible fate, and she’d vowed to stay loyal to him, but he did have that hard streak. Would he cast her off now he was married?

She felt her chair jar, as she lifted her glass and a maid’s voice rang out, ‘Oh I’m so sorry milady.’ But then, the girl shrieked, as Esther’s chair slipped sideways knocking the tray from her hands. To her horror, she watched the tray fly through the air, to land on the grass with the glasses smashing to fragments.  The viscount hurriedly rushed to help the poor girl, now sobbing into her apron.  

Esther rose to comfort her, only to tread on the shards of glass, some of which speared her satin slipper. Uttering a cry, she raised her foot to see blood pouring.  Palmerston now dashed to her side, lifting her bodily out of the shattered glass. Seating her on a chair, he clicked his fingers at a waiter. ‘Get some clean cloths, now man – hurry.’

‘Forgive me my
dear, but we must staunch the blood flow.’  He swiftly lifted her skirts, and pulled down her garter and stocking, much to Esther’s embarrassment.

The servant returned
, giving him a wad of cloths, as he knelt to staunch the wound.

‘Hmm – demme.
We’ll have to summon a doctor,’ he murmured.

‘I think it would be quicker to take her there David.  By the time someone gets to the doctor, and brings him back here, the poor girl could bleed to death.’ Bertie said, pursing his lips.

‘Don’t frighten her Bertie.’ Palmerston muttered, seeing Esther turn pale. ‘But you’re right, go get the horses; I shall take her to the physician myself.’

By this time, Esther was speechless, appalled at the situation, at the blood-soaked rags, her ruined dress
, and the servant girl being soundly reprimanded by a furious waiter. Amidst the pandemonium, her voice faltered, ‘Please my lord; it was not the poor girl’s fault; it was an accident.’

However
, the waiter now red of face, screamed in French. ‘You stupid – stupid girl, you are not fit for this work. Begone, but first make your apologies to the lady.’ Grabbing the girl by the wrist, he dragged her over to Esther. In broken English, he spluttered. ‘Mistress, s’il vous plait , please accident. She – dismiss.  You never see her again.’ Tugging at the girl, he screamed. ‘M'excuse auprès d'elle maintenant.   Excuse now.’

‘She is not to blame Sir’ Esther interrupted, speaking in perfect
French. ‘You cannot dismiss this poor girl because of a stupid accident.’

‘Ah it never happen again m
istress – she go.’

‘Then she will come and work for me monsieur’ Esther snapped. She glanced down to see the blood bubbling from the wound, and pooling on the grass, and promptly fainted.

She knew no more until she awoke, looking up into beady blue eyes behind thick spectacles peering down at her, ‘Hah my dear girl, you are awake. Fear not, you are in my surgery,’ a male voice said softly, with a French accent.

Esther peered at maroon brocade walls, lit by candles in wrought-iron   sconces. ‘What happened?’

‘You cut your foot on some glass shards mamselle.  Now, you may feel sleepy as I gave you some laudanum, whilst I stitched up the wound. I will give you more for the pain.’ he said in heavily accented English.

Palmerston loomed over the man’s
shoulder; his chocolate brown eyes held a look of relief, as his angular face broke into a smile. ‘At last, methought you’d sleep through the night.’ Turning to the doctor, he said, in French, ‘Is the lady fit to travel?’

The doctor lifted his balding head pompously, and replied in English.  ‘Yes my lord, but please make sure the leg is not jarred in the ride to her home.

As Esther went to rise, Palmerston stepped to her side. ‘Nay, allow me.’ She felt his muscles harden, as he lifted her to his chest.  To her embarrassment, his lips were so near to hers, and she suddenly had the urge to kiss them.   It must be the laudanum she thought, as she laid her head against his broad chest, and fell asleep.  

Bertie appeared from the other side of the room, followed by a worried Marissa. ‘Hah David, seems you’ve made another conquest.’

The viscount said, ‘Enough of that Bertie, tis too serious a business now.’ Changing his tone, he looked down at Esther, at the double row of black eyelashes feathering her pale cheek. ‘We must needs make this young lady comfortable,’ he said, with the most tender of expressions.

To which Bertie raised his eyebrows, seems the scarred hero had
a tendre
for the fallen angel.

Vaughan felt the carriage about to overturn. Quickly, he shielded Henrietta, as it lurched to a halt.  Hearing cries from the grooms, and then a gunshot; Vaughan grabbed his pistol, from beneath the seat, swiftly cocking it.

Horrified, Henrietta held her hands to her face. ‘Oh my God what’s happening?’ Vaughan shook his head
, and pushed her to the floor, ‘Stay there, and don’t make a sound.’   Frowning, he showed her the other pistol still in the case. ‘Use it if you have to, don’t hesitate.’

He lifted his head to look through the window, only to see the door open and a masked man, thrust a gun forward.  ‘Come on out – I want the sapphires – nought else – so hand them over.’

Enraged, Vaughan snarled, hurling himself at the villain.  Henrietta muffled a scream, as she saw the two men fighting.  As it was so dark, it was difficult to see who was who. She made out the light livery of a groom, as he fell past the window. Oh dear God, please no.  Scrabbling for the pistol, she tried to steady her hands, as it was cocked, and could go off at the slightest movement. Nervously, she fingered the necklace; she wished she’d left it with her mother. It seemed they were undone. Swiftly, she undid the clasp and stuffed it into her bodice.

Crouching on the floor of the carriage, Henrietta peered at the figures locked in battle. She could not make out who was who.   Biting her lip, she tried to stop her hand trembling as she thought of her own small weapon.  If the pistol only fired one shot that would not be enough against a group of men. She crawled to her reticule, and picked out her leather case, swiftly taking out the silver pistol. Fighting to steady her hand, she could see it was already loaded – dear Harry. Thank goodness, he made sure she took it with her. He was right; highwaymen were notorious on the roads.  She never dreamt she would have to use it. Biting her lip, she crept to the opposite door, to see the way was clear. It was then she had an idea – maybe it would work. She would come at them from behind. Ripples of fear flooded her body as she thought of Vaughan. Was he hurt? Dead before they had any life together? Gritting her teeth, she slithered out of the carriage, keeping the pistols high.  The last thing she wanted to do was drop them, and jar the hair triggers.

She looked underneath the carriage to see a bunch of booted legs in two groups. What on earth was going on.  Crawling around the back of the carriage, she pulled herself underneath to look. To her horror, three highwaymen held Vaughan, whilst the driver and footman stood some feet away, bound hand and foot.  She could see a boot and leg as another man climbed into the carriage.  ‘She’s gone.’ He shouted.

‘Find her.’ Another voice shouted back. ‘She couldn’t have gone far.’

Slithering around the back of the carriage, she peeped out to see the man climb down and look around the carriage. Taking a deep breath, she scrambled to her feet shouting. ‘Stand where you are or I’ll shoot you right now.’ She trembled, pointing one gun at the three highwaymen and the other at the man by the carriage door. 

Lowering his hands, he said, ‘Now come on my beauty, no need to be hasty. We only want your jewels.’

Another cultured voice from the group by the trees shouted, ‘Put those down milady.  We mean you no harm.  Just throw me the sapphires, and we’ll be away.’

As Henrietta raised the pistols, he said, ‘Really my pet, I don’t want to shoot your betrothed before your wedding night.’ As the other men sniggered, he continued. ‘Come my pet, just throw me the necklace.’

My pet? Patronizing devil. Henrietta realised he must know them or know of the wedding.  Now he was intent on having the sapphires. The speaker pushed the pistol to Vaughan’s temple. ‘Hurry, we don’t have all night.’

In a jerk reaction, Henrietta’s hand went to her bodice, whereupon the man from the carriage started forward. Realizing her error, with her hand trembling violently, she pointed the pistol at him, only to have it jerk in her hand, her finger dragging on the trigger. To her terror, the gun exploded in her hand.  Screaming, she watched horrified
, as the man sunk shrieking to the ground, clutching his leg, the blood pumping almost black in the darkness of the night. Realizing Vaughan could die, she cried out, ‘Loose him, or I’ll shoot you. I mean it.  I’ll….’ Her hand shook furiously. Any moment now the hair trigger would go.

Two of the men scattered into the forest, whilst the one with cultured tones grinned, and flourishing his tricorn hat, bowed. ‘Bon Dieu milady, allow me to pick up my comrade, then we will leave you to continue your journey.

With her body shuddering, and head shaking, she squeaked. ‘Yes and go – go.’

She watched the man run to his comrade now moaning on the ground. Lifting him, he flung the heavy body over his shoulder.  He turned, an impish grin appearing. ‘I shall not forget this, vanquished by a lady.  Adieu.’ With that, he stepped back vanishing among the trees.

Her heart almost jumping up into her throat, she dropped the pistol, and stumbled toward him, untying his bonds. ‘Vaughan, my dearest, you are not harmed?’

‘My dear girl, how brave,’ he said, wrapping her in his arms, ‘how very brave. We owe our lives to you.’

Together they ran to the footmen and driver, hastily untying them lest the robbers changed their minds and attacked again.

Henrietta peered down the track; there was no sign of the outriders for the horses and the carriage carrying the servants.  ‘Should we wait here for the other coach, or the outriders?’  She said, looking to Vaughan.

‘Tis a desolate place, I think we should carry on lest they decide to return, we are sitting ducks here.’

Once more, back in the warmth of the coach
, Henrietta leant back against the squab cushions. 

‘Methinks we have need of this,’ Vaughan said, pulling a bottle of fine aged brandy and two pewter goblets from the basket.

The alcohol burned her throat making her cough.  Trying to catch her breath, she patted her bosom, feeling a fire in her gullet.  Nevertheless, she downed more, feeling the demonic liquid soothing and healing her nerves.

Taking a gulp of brandy, the marquis slouched back, ‘Demme, Henrietta, didn’t know you could shoot like that?   Methought, you were playing when you said you learnt from your brothers.’

‘Not from, but with, as papa engaged a gentleman, especially to tutor us in the art of shooting.’

‘Tis no art m’dear.’

‘I beg to differ, one of my brother is a deadly shot; he can pick off a bird from a covey from over three hundred yards.’

‘And you?’

‘Well I did not care for shooting, hands shook so, but I could do fairly well.’

‘Good lord, a chit of a girl like you?’

‘And why not?
  I would beware of uttering such deprecatory remarks in front of Mary Wollstonecraft’s followers. Why, they would beat you to shreds in sport and literacy.’

‘Demme – what is the world coming to, a bit of muslin loading a musket.’ Yet even as he spoke, he looked at her with something nearing respect.

‘I would have you know, some of the ladies enter the battle field alongside their husbands.  I also intend to do so.’

‘I think not.’ He said, hurriedly. ‘I forbid it.’ Vaughan’s eyes widened; she was such a petite miss, a porcelain doll with a golden halo of ringlets.

‘I hardly think you have a choice my lord. I insist,’ she said, lifting a delicate chin, the blue eyes turning to arctic ice.

‘Madam I shall beat you roundly if you even venture near the battle.’

Henrietta stiffened; of course, he had every right to whip her, even unto death. ‘Then I would warn you to employ a taster before you eat or drink my lord,’ she said, as if in joke.

‘Fie on you miss. Hold your tongue.’ With that, he slapped her sharply on the thigh.’

‘Enough of that nonsense. Remember my father is a duke, and I am his pet, so beware Vaughan, beware.’ She tried to conceal the fear shuddering through her body. Clearing his throat, he glared at her, but stilled his hand. 

As if reading his thoughts, she said, ‘If you think I am feisty, you should lock horns with Isabella or Phillipa, you would not survive.’

‘Hmm you jest my lady.’

‘I think not.  You do realize that if you fall on the battlefield, some female camp follower will readily cut your throat, and hack off your fingers for your rings.’ Henrietta said, ‘Tis only me who will drag you off that field.’ She surprised herself with the rancour of her words
, even though her mouth was now dry. 

Pouring himself another brandy
, Vaughan snickered, ‘I could have you committed to Bedlam milady, so enough of your threats.’

‘Oh really, and you think that my mama and papa would agree to that?’ Albeit cringing inside, but knowing how Isabella and Phillipa would react if they were with her now, she took a deep breath ‘My papa adores me. I am his only little girl.
Tis you who is more likely to become a bedlamite my lord.’ Her heart thumped rapidly, indeed this spirited demeanour was quite new to her.  Was it because she had vanquished the highwaymen, or was it because she had never been crossed before?

Vaughan growled
, what a honeymoon, poison, bedlam and death threats.  Who on earth had he married? Where was the cowed little woman? ‘I thought you loved me; you little imp.’ he blustered.

Henrietta looked at him, those blue eyes as innocent as a kitten carrying a mouse. ‘But I do Vaughan. I broke my heart when I thought you planned to keep your mistress. I felt I would die.’ She bit her lip, ‘Yes I do love you, but I will not be treated like some simpering little chit submitting to a lord and master.’

‘Balderdash, from where comes this talk?’ Vaughan said, folding his arms over a muscled chest.  ‘Look my dear girl, you know you can never be equal,’ he said in a kindly tone.

‘Tell that to Mary Wollstonecraft and her followers.’ She clutched his arm saying softly, ‘Vaughan; I adore you, and so proud to be your wife, but I also have a life, dreams, desires and above all the right to choose my own destiny.’

‘Hardly m’dear. You will soon lose these stupid notions when you have a child. Egad, tis your role m’dear, a precious duty to bear the next heir and a spare.’ He smirked inwardly; little did the chit know what was in store for her.

‘I think not, t’will be just as important to have equality of thought and choice. I refuse to die knowing I have lived under the domineering shadow of a man. What a waste of years.’

Remaining silent, Vaughan grimaced, her future lay far from filling his nursery, she would soon lose her high-flown ideas when confronted with her fate.