Lady Henrietta's Dilemma: Regency Suspense Romance Book 2 (Lords of Sussex) (9 page)

Feeling her yield to him, his hand slipped to lift her skirt.

‘Sir … that is enough.’ She gasped slapping his hand away. 

Wrenching his mouth from hers, he took his hand away, ‘My apologies; I was overcome with your charms. Say you forgive me?’ He could hardly believe he was apologizing to this young chit.  Shame raced through his mind, for once, he felt unmanned, his rakish devilment frozen.

‘Egad, you stir me so.  I think we must leave here, before I lose my reason.’

Against his will, he gently lifted her to her feet, and took her in his arms.

‘You must never touch me again,’ Henrietta said, feeling his muscles clench into bands of steel, as he held her. She looked up at him, ‘I am so ashamed, acting like a hussy, and just newlywed. Thank God you are a gentleman, and did not dishonour me.’

More shame followed by unexpected pride surged within him, as he murmured, ‘I would rather be your protector than a rakehell lover.’ 

Reaching up, she softly brushed his jaw, feeling the growing stubble through the silk of her gloves. ‘My knight, defending a lady.’

‘Hmm I don’t know about that, twas a battle not to tumble you right there on that bench. However, come; let us find that rascal of a husband for you.’ Even as he said the words, his heart sank. He did not want to return her; with her golden curls and cornflower eyes, she had stolen his heart.  Let alone him, she faced danger on all sides; travelling with the army was indeed perilous. The officers guarded their women with their lives. Many a foot soldier or officer on the brink of battle lusted after a woman married or not, and didn’t give a damn whom he angered; caring not if they were called out; for on the morrow they could be dead on the battlefield. 
Some of his fellow officers slept with a pistol at their side, tying their wives to them, lest they be stolen whilst they slept.  Why even a few days ago, a young woman, Isabella, the Earl of Standford’s new bride was kidnapped from the tent whilst asleep. 

He knew already they would not find Bruges, knew that the man was deeply involved in the game of Faro, a game where men lost thousands, even whole estates. If she were his bride, he would not leave her side, especially unattended at a ball in
Ostend.

He frowned; he was also to blame for her dilemma.  He wished he had not bought her to have access at any time; did Bruges not care at all? Would he sell her on to another? As the thought lashed his mind, he determined to ensure she was solely his. At least, he could protect her from a perilous future. What was another few thousand pounds when she was the prize? Entering the ballroom, he tapped her arm. ‘Now let’s see where this rascal of a husband is.’

‘He doesn’t seem to be dancing.’ Henrietta said, searching the groups performing the cotillion. ‘Hmm, neither is he standing on the side.

Ambros frowned, playing for time.  ‘Maybe he is in the dining room. Let us make our way there this instant.’

A hurried search of the room, and adjacent corridors held no sign of her errant husband. Near to tears, Henrietta gulped, ‘Where is he? What do I do? I cannot stay here without him; I should not even be alone with you, right now. Oh dear, I am undone – undone.’ Wiping her eyes with the lace handkerchief, she muttered, ‘Maybe he’s been taken ill. I shall have to approach the duchess.’

‘No my love, it would cast a slur on his character if she or her entourage were to know Bruges deserted you. Come
, I will take you back to the safety of the hotel. He must surely be there.’

‘I fear something has befallen him.’

‘Come my pet, I shall summon my carriage.’

Henrietta glanced up at him.
‘My pet?’ Those words again. She must have met him before, but where?  ‘Hmm, I have my reputation to consider; I must have your promise that you will behave yourself.’  On seeing the carriage arrive; Henrietta's eyes widened; it held a ducal crest.  ‘Why is that not the Duke of Wiltshire’s carriage?’

‘Ah, you know the coat of arms?’

‘I could hardly not know Sir. My father is a duke, so we are well aware of the ducal crests.  Besides it is one of the things young ladies are taught. We must be mindful of all the leading families.’

‘The duke recently came into the title, but his main seat of preference is in the north. I am honoured he allows me the use of his carriage. It is a hazardous journey from Ghent to Brussels, even on horseback; one has to traverse muddy fields, streams and tracks full of pot holes.’   He caught his breath, damn that was close; he did not think of the crest on the carriage. He was so caught up with her; he was off his guard.

Once in the carriage, he made to draw the curtains. Henrietta stayed his hand. ‘No, Your Highness, they must remain open. The footmen are my only source of propriety. I must preserve my reputation, for I feel it is now sadly suspect.’

‘My dear I could hardly ravish you with the footmen on the back, and the flambeaux runners alongside.’

‘Nevertheless, I insist they remain open.’   Henrietta slumped against the squab cushions, the tears tumbling down her cheeks.

Getting up, Ambros sat beside her, taking her in his arms.  As she flinched, and tried to break away, he said, ‘Godzound's woman, I seek only to comfort you.’

‘Maybe so, but I am so ashamed; I allowed you to caress me, when my new husband may be lying somewhere – dying….’

Biting his lip, Ambros felt inclined to tell her the truth, but she was too vulnerable at present. He had to think of the jewels; the parure of sapphires and diamonds was particularly special to him. One thing was certain; he was determined to take her away from that damn bastard.

Realizing she sounded hysterical, Henrietta, relaxed against him, sobbing, ‘I am so worried. Maybe he was set upon by thieves.’

‘Here
m’dear take this, tis unused.’ Ambros muttered, pulling a clean handkerchief from his pocket.  He frowned at her naivety. What kind of life lay ahead for this poor lamb?  He could not allow her to return to such a callow cur, all the fellow thought of was the next card game. ‘Be of good cheer, he is most probably sitting in your suite waiting for you right this moment.’

Within minutes, they arrived at the hotel, the lights ablaze with people toing and froing on the marble steps.  Henrietta followed Ambros into the large reception area of the hotel, walking across the black and white diagonal tiled floor.  A bewigged servant in elaborate livery approached, bowing. ‘My Lord may I be of assistance?’

‘Yes, is Lord Bruges, in his suite?’

The man shook his powdered head. ‘I will check the register my lord.’

Waving his hand, with another slight bow, he led them to the huge mahogany reception desk, and opened a leather bound book.  Fingering the heavy vellum page, he pursed his lips. ‘No my lord, his lordship is not signed in.

Beetling his brows, Ambros turned to Henrietta. ‘Shall we repair to your suite my lady? We can hardly search more. And you are tired.’

‘Should we send the runners out? Do they have such in Ostend?’ Henrietta wiped tousled curls from her pale forehead.

‘Hmm, I think tis too soon for that my lady; he will not thank you if you summon a large hue and cry, and he is perhaps at one of the drinking dens.’

‘He would hardly do that Sir.  He would not desert me.’

‘True, but tis too premature.
  Come let us repair to your suite.’ Looking at the servant he said, ‘Inform her servants, her ladyship is here.

Immediately, the man clicked his fingers at a bewigged footman in less elaborate livery. ‘Jacques hasten to her ladyship’s suite; inform her servants of her arrival.’

Coming from behind the desk, he then beckoned to another footman. ‘Pierre please show her ladyship to her suite.’

‘I fear I should come with you m’dear. We must discuss our next steps.’ Ambros countered. 

‘My Lord it is inappropriate; I have only my maid—’

‘Madam, this is beyond propriety,’ Ambros interrupted, offering her his arm. ‘Your husband is presumed missing. Let us not waste any more time on fripperies.’

Realizing he was right, reluctantly Henrietta took his arm, and followed the footman up the grand central staircase.

A flushed
Milly opened the door. ‘Milady – pray what has happened?’

‘The master is missing. Pray God he is unharmed.’

Seeing two footmen standing as still as statues either aside of the door, Ambros frowned, ‘My dear; we do not want this to get out. I think it wise we discuss this alone.’

Henrietta’s heart jumped.  ‘Yes, of course you’re right.’ Turning to the footmen, she said, ‘You may go.’

Bowing, the two men left, but not without casting a wary glance at Ambros.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he collapsed into the Queen Anne chair, now for the maid. Bending to Henrietta, he whispered, ‘Get rid of the maid, no-one must know of your dilemma. 
Servants tittle tattle so.

Henrietta pursed her lips. She had to agree with him.
Milly was dear to her, but loved to gossip. Many times, she said something, only to find it spread like wildfire below stairs.  ‘Milly, would you leave us know.  I will call for you if I need you.’

Giving a light bob, the maid said, ‘Yes milady.’ With her lips drawn into thin lines, she narrowed her eyes at Ambros, saying,   ‘I shall be nearby milady.’

‘Oh dear, the boat for Ghent leaves early in the morning, surely he would not stay out so late.’  Henrietta said, slumping down in the nearest brocade seat.

‘Never fear, he is probably on his way here as we speak.’ Ambros looked casually around the room, the door to the armoire was ajar, one box of carved oak stood atop a trunk.  The jewels had to be in here somewhere. However, first he had to see to Henrietta.

‘I think some fortification is needed. May I?’

Henrietta smiled, ‘Yes of course; we have a well-stocked drinks’ cabinet; the hotel is quite liberal in its supply of fine wines. Perhaps you would pour one for both of us. If you will excuse me, I need to change out of these slippers, and splash some water on my face, I feel quite grimy with all the traipsing around. I just hope my husband is safe and well.’

Well, that was easier than he thought.  Pouring the wine into crystal glasses, Ambros took a small vial of laudanum from his pocket.

The Hotel in Ghent

Henrietta felt the cloth on her brow. Apart from being violently sick with the rolling of the boat, she spent the entire trip to Ghent drifting in and out of consciousness. ‘Milly, please renew the rag, my head is still heavy, and my eyes leaden.’ 

‘T’was the wine you had m’dear.’‘

‘I cannot remember.  All I recollect is our search for you. Where were you, how could you leave me so, with a stranger?’ she chafed.

‘Cease your agitations m’dear. T’was work, war work. Nothing to bother your pretty head with.’

‘But you could have told the prince?’

‘No so, our meetings are of the utmost secrecy. Spies everywhere.’

‘But surely you could have
—’

‘Cease your censure. I did warn you of the trials you would encounter if you accompanied me.’

Henrietta bit her lip. It still did not seem right to her, but then how could she argue against his explanation.

‘Now I must be off to yet another meeting, goodness knows how long this one will take. But meanwhile, make sure you have everything ready; the coach arrives at dawn. The journey to Brussels will take a couple of days or so, dependent upon the weather’. Vaughan grinned inwardly, now he was free to attend the game at a nearby hotel.

It had been a difficult night for him, losing over four thousand guineas. To his relief, Ambros offered more for her company so at least he could continue gaming with ease. She was safe enough with the man. He assumed from her cold nature; she would refuse any advances, but if she did succumb, then at least it was with Ambros and not some scoundrel from the drinking dens. She was ripe for a few years before it came to that. 

Smiling, he called for the carriage, to join his fellow card players; he could practice his sleight of hand on these green men, mainly young officers fresh from Harrow and Cambridge. He could already see their bright eyes and excited faces, all eager to lay their fortunes at his feet. Grinning grimly, he decided to win and lose a few hundred pounds, to wet their appetites. After all, there would be plenty of time on the journey to Brussels, two long nights in the camps.

A couple of hours later, lying on her bed, Henrietta felt the heaviness subsiding. ‘I vow I will never imbibe again, if that is the result.’ 

A gentle knock at the door announced Ambrosius, ‘Hah, you are unwell my lady?’

Henrietta struggled up in bed, ‘My lord; I fear you should not be here, in the absence of my husband.’

‘Come, come, we have been through this before, you have your maid and footmen present. So how
fare you?’ 

‘Wretched, the boat trip today was terrible; my head aches so, from the effects of the wine last night. I recall you handing me the wine but do not remember you leaving
. 
I swear after this journey, I will be happy with Sussex, dear old Sussex with its flat plains and gentle Downs.’ 

‘Then you will enjoy my estate. I admit to not having frequented it, just the once I believe.  However, now I shall make sure it is my main abode.’

To her surprise, he took her hand, and drew it to his lips. ‘With you at my side.’

‘Pardon?
  Ambros. Once again, you forget I am married.’

‘Not for long m’dear.  I shall see to that.’

‘Pray desist. I am too fatigued to fight you.’

‘Then let it rest for the time being.  Ambros smiled inwardly; it seemed
, she was not aware the jewels were missing. ‘Hmm, so may I ask when your dear husband  returned?’ 

‘I know not. It was such a fracas. We overslept, and our servants had to waken us both.  Thankfully, they had already packed everything, and laid out our travelling clothes,
then it was one mad dash to the boat.’

He pursed his lips, his eyes lidded.  The bastard left her all night.  He’d gone to the gaming hell in search of Bruges only to discover he’d already left for a brothel.  Did he not think of the danger to his wife, why she could contract the pox? 
Albeit it was a high-class brothel, the pox was rampant in the seaports.

He watched, as Henrietta lay back against the pillows, looking as fragile as porcelain china, the golden curls an angelic halo around the translucent skin of her lovely face.’ He picked up one of her delicate hands, admiring the alabaster white flesh; the veins the lightest duck egg blue.

He felt her touch his heart, such a refined creature; he envisioned the jewels nestling just above the cleavage of her fine breasts. What a gift to any man seeking a wife. Deuce, his thoughts were once again on marriage.  Why, he’d bought the woman, what a mess. She may be wedded to that bastard, that mumbling oaf addicted to the gambling hells, but he would pluck her away; of that, he was sure. Although part of him fought to retain his rakehell ways, she was drawing him in, the idea of her being his wife appealed more and more. He gritted his teeth, as he thought of the battlefield, a place where many soldiers sorted out their grievances. His fists tightened.

‘Ambros what is amiss, you look troubled?’

‘Nay tis nothing my pet.’

Her fine brows puckered at the words, ‘You know I really do feel I have met you before.’

‘Perhaps you have in some other life or other world.’

‘Do not tell me you have heathen beliefs – is it not the Hindu who believes in reincarnation?’

‘Hindu? So you know of such a religion?’

‘And why not pray?’ Henrietta narrowed her eyes. ‘I am conversant with the main religions.’

‘Hmm you surprise me.’ He straightened his spine. ‘I was unaware you were proficient in such knowledge m’dear.’

‘Don’t patronize me.’

‘Well tis hardly the area for young ladies, methought you females were educated in the pianoforte, embroidery, French and household management among other—’

‘Fripperies?
Is that how you see me, like some cow fit only to give milk?’

‘Gad, that’s a bit
strong  my lady.’

Seeing his astonishment, Henrietta laughed. ‘Ha, I feel almost well again. I believe you deserve an explanation, as you are steeped in the ignorance of outdated social rules. My mama and papa insisted I had a rounded education like my brothers, so I am well versed in the arts, sciences and practised in the sports. However, I do admit to being a complete coward when it comes to shooting and hunting. Umm, I do enjoy archery and swimming.’

‘But I thought you handled the hi….’ He bit back the word “highwaymen”; he damn well nearly gave himself away. Not wishing her to see his consternation, he leant over, and said, ‘So pray, what particular subjects did my pretty lamb study?’

‘Now you irritate me again with your euphemisms. I am not your pretty lamb, or pet, or pretty kitten, do not forget they grow up to be cats – killers.  I am a person, of the opposite sex, equal in mind Sir.’

‘I mean them only as an endearment my love.’

‘My parents hired the best tutors, both male and female. Some were quite fierce and others affable. They rarely used the stick. We all shared the classroom, until the boys were dispatched to boarding school. Then it was rather a lonely life, but papa retained a couple of tutors for me.’

‘Did you find study taxing?’

Henrietta raised her fine brows. ‘I see by the look on your face you find it incredulous. And don’t tell me we have smaller brains than you – please.’

‘Forgive me, I just have not come across a blue stocking before, and even so, not many of them even have that amount of knowledge.’

Smoothing down the top sheet, Henrietta said, ‘Well it’s about time we women stood up for our rights, albeit I think it would take a revolution to accomplish such.’

‘Hah now you talk treason – beware.’

‘Treason
– to fight for the right to education?  I thought better of you than that Ambros.’

Stunned, he looked at her, his angel, his porcelain doll. How was she capable of sustaining such knowledge? ‘Again forgive me, you still have not told me what subjects you studied?’

‘Well, the main ones, history, geography, mathematics, philosophy, politics, languages, the same curriculum as a boy and young man really.’

She chose to ignore his intent. ‘My two friends Isabella and Phillipa are also well schooled. We delight in knowledge for its own sake.  However, now we plan
to form our own little group based upon the writings of Mary Wollstonecraft.’

‘Hah, the rights of women
, and so forth.’

‘Yes and so forth indeed.  We aim to raise the female spirit, our thirst for knowledge and our right as being equal under God and the law.’

‘Strong talk from an angel.’

‘There you go again. You are immersed, conditioned to viewing women as the inferior second race, with fragile bodies and brains unable to make any decisions, to be guided by the male in every avenue of life.
How dire.’

‘Come, men only seek to guide and protect a woman, to steer her through life. You may have smaller brains; you may be unable to make decisions, but pray be not ashamed, it is endearing.’

‘You are so patronizing. Well, I am afraid you are in for some surprises; the main movement has begun, ready to fight for the rights of women.’

‘Yes, Mary Wollstonecraft’s a funny little woman.’

‘Funny? She is a leader, a woman of courage and vision. It is imperative that we females stand solidly behind her. We cannot afford to let slip any advancement. Future generations of women will thank us for our fortitude.’ Infuriated, Henrietta thumped the sheet, rumpling it again; her pallor now swiftly receding.

‘I surely do not mean to annoy you my pet …
or should I say friend?’

As she went to reply, the door opened to admit Lord Vaughan. Seeing Ambros seated by her side, his mouth tightened. ‘Sir, I did not think to find you here.’

Ambros rose from his seat beside Henrietta. ‘Did you not?’ He’d paid the fellow enough. It seemed Bruges was reneging on his agreement. Well, he would soon put a stop to that, he kept his end of the bargain, or he would call him out.

‘My dear wife, you are now well?’ Bruges murmured, taking her pale hand. Henrietta could not help but glower at him, resenting his touch. When she awoke beside him this morning, he had stunk of cheap perfume and those new cigars. She did not welcome him near her, let alone be intimate. God knows what trollops he
had consorted with.

‘Yes thanks to
Milly and His Royal Highness.  I thought at one time I was near to dying, but there was no sight of you my lord.

Huffing, Bruges strode to the drinks’ cabinet, pouring a whiskey, pointedly ignoring Ambros.  ‘Can’t abide sickness – told you that.’ 

‘Why have you returned? I thought you had a card game?’

‘Scoundrels, card sharks, marked cards, sleight of hand. 
Couldn’t prove it though. Lost the lot.’  He looked at Ambros meaningfully. Catching the message, Ambros bowed to Henrietta, giving Bruges, a look that threatened repercussions.  ‘I will leave you now, my lady. However, we will meet later at the camp.’

He turned to Bruges. ‘I would have a word with you.’

Vaughan swallowed his drink in one go, and slamming the glass down, followed him from the room.

Ambros walked the length of the narrow corridor, out of hearing. ‘So you just lost four thousand pounds?’ 
he snapped, pushing the man’s shoulder.  ‘We struck a bargain. Hear me now, I will give you another five thousand, but she is then mine permanently.’

‘Pshaw.’ Bruges grunted, his handsome features reddening. ‘Come now, she is worth far more than that. Ten thousand and
she’s yours.’

‘Tell me what
is your intention if she is begotten with child? It is obvious you could not tell if it was your true heir?

‘Sell her off, child and all.  Some old roué would gladly pay.’

Ambros cut him with a swift chop to the jaw. ‘Make sure you are not alone when I am near, you cur.  It won’t be a Frenchman fells you on the battlefield. Hear me now, I have not nor do I intend  seducing your wife. I have too much respect for her. The girl is an innocent.  And by the way, I intend to enlighten her as to my true name and rank.’

‘But why?
It was perfect; she couldn’t resist such a princely title.’ 

‘You sold her to me, you blackguard,
d’you realize I could have done her grievous harm? Have you no conscience? However, it was not her I wanted Bruges; you had something of mine, something you gained by dirty dealing.’

Bruges frowned, ‘What do you mean Sir?’

‘D’you remember playing Faro with a young man, a boy? You bled him dry, didn’t you? Forced him – dragged him into giving you a priceless heirloom.’

‘I know not what you mean Sir.’ Bruges spluttered, fear now in his eyes, spittle flying from his mouth, as his mind raced, what did the man mean, silver, gold, jewels?  ‘I know not of what you speak.’

‘Come now Bruges, you are a renowned gambler and a cheat.  You cur, you should be lying dead in some field.’ Ambros’s eyes glittered; his lips parted in a snarl, as he pushed Bruges roughly. ‘That young man was my brother, you bastard. He shot himself – did you hear? Seventeen years old, and he shot himself. I should cut your throat right now, but that would be too easy.’