The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

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by Linfield, Emma


  “You may be pleased to know that I have spoken with my mother, and she has agreed that it would best if you and your father were to reside at Raven… at Ballyroyal for the foreseeable future.” His tone softened. “In truth, I would like it if you remained here. These were your lands once, and though I cannot give that back, I must grant you the reparations you are owed.”

  “Da might not take too kindly to it, but I’ll speak with him.” She trembled in the cold breeze, though Jacob knew that was not like her. Despite her sometimes sickly demeanor, she had a hardiness about her.

  “Are you cold?” He took off his overcoat and put it about her shoulders. She stiffened slightly but did not remove the offered item.

  “I must be,” she said quietly.

  “There is something else I wanted to talk to you about.” He rallied his courage, for he did not know if it would make a difference. He hoped so, but he could not be certain.

  She turned to face him. “Oh?”

  “If I tell you, you must keep it secret. No one can know.”

  “Go on…” she urged.

  He took a hesitant breath. “I am not your cousin.”

  “What?” she gasped. “How can that be?”

  “My mother was assaulted in her youth by two rogues, while she was out walking here upon her visit to your father and mother. I came from that assault, and my father chose to love me as his own and did not punish my mother for events she had no control over. She had suffered enough,” he explained. “Owen knew of it, and so did Father, but no one else was privy to that information. I am telling you because… I want you to know that you and I have no relationship to one another. And I hope you will keep the secret, for her sake, as well as mine.”

  Alicia’s eyes widened in horror. “She was dishonored?”

  “In the worst possible way.” Sadness gripped Jacob’s chest. “It is why my father sent me away from home. He may have treated me as his own, and never said otherwise while he lived, but seeing me reminded him of what my mother had endured. By giving me the opportunity of a distant education, he could have the best of both worlds. He could love me and not have to think of how I had come into this world, in terror and pain and brutality.”

  “I’m so sorry, Your Grace.” She suddenly leant forward and threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. She whispered into his shoulder; her voice thick with emotion. “I did not know.”

  “How could you have done?” He did not know what to do at first. Collecting his nerve, he put his arms around her, too, and held her there. As she pulled away, he gazed into her eyes. “Is it to be “Your Grace” again?”

  Alicia gulped. “It has to be, doesn’t it?”

  “I would prefer if it was not,” he said. “You and I are the same—we are of the same standing, and our mothers and fathers were once close in kinship. I would like it if you called me Jacob. And, if I may, I should like to call you Alicia.”

  She smiled a little. “It sounds awful nice when you say my name.”

  “Does that mean I have your permission?”

  She nodded hesitantly. “Let’s see if it works.”

  “I can accept that.” He leant against the wall.

  “Did you tell your mother what happened that night?” she asked, staying close to him.

  He shook his head. “I did not think it would serve her well, if I told the truth.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I said that Owen had been attempting to clean the barrel of his musket when it accidentally fired,” he replied.

  Alicia arched an eyebrow. “She believes that?”

  “I do not know, but if she suspects otherwise, she did not say so.” He looked out across the churchyard, trying to convince himself that his mother did believe him. For her own sanity. If she thought her son capable of what he had wanted to do, he was quite certain she would have taken leave of her senses, wondering where she had gone wrong with him.

  Now, the only people who would ever know what really occurred were Jacob, Alicia, and Tom. All of them were bound in a mutual contract to stay silent. Just as the Duchess had sworn not to tell a soul that Jacob was not exactly the true heir to Ravencliff.

  “Well, you don’t have to fear anything from me. I’ll keep your secrets—both of them.” She cast him an odd look that he could not quite decipher. A flicker of… longing, perhaps?

  Or maybe that is wishful thinking on my part. He knew how he felt about her. Having her come to his aid that night had fixed his emotions in his heart, but he did not dare to speak them out loud, in case they were not reciprocated. After all, his family had taken her home, her future, her birthright. How easily could such devastation be overcome? Not very easily, he thought.

  “At least the Ribbonmen didn’t strike,” she went on, clearing her throat nervously. Jacob had been grateful for that. Without their fearless leader, in the form of Owen, to guide them and give the order, they did not attack Ravencliff during the ball, which did not take place, given the circumstances.

  “Have you heard anything of them?” Jacob said. He wanted to talk to her of more than the Ribbonmen and the plot and Owen. He wanted to speak to her of her past, and her hopes, and the things she loved and brought her joy. But the timing seemed all sorts of inappropriate. Even though Owen had tried to kill him, he still missed his brother. Or, rather, the brother Owen had been, before Jacob had returned. A fantasy image of him that had, perhaps, not existed for a long time.

  Alicia’s mouth set in a grim line. “Those who knew the part your brother played in the Ribbonmen’s plot are mourning his loss, but they’ve sworn not reveal his identity beyond their loyal group. My Da told me of it yesterday.”

  Jacob was thankful for that, or it would have broken his mother’s heart. There could be no risks of the truth escaping, if they were to continue on in some semblance of normality.

  “I imagine they hope they can get another wealthy Englishman to fill his place,” Alicia added bitterly.

  “It will not be me.”

  She chuckled. “I did not think it would.”

  “So, what do you say to coming to live here?” Jacob pressed. He did not like to think of her in that squat cottage, nor did he like to think of her having to be there with her father. Despite the coughing fit that had caused him difficulty, Jacob still did not trust that Alicia’s father would not continue to cause her harm. He wanted to be there for her, to prevent any such event from taking place, ever again.

  “I would like that,” she said, after a moment. “But I will have to speak to my Da first.”

  “I meant what I said about offering you reparations. This estate will be difficult to run without some help, and I have reason to believe that your father understands what is needed to make an estate function as it should.” Jacob played the last card he possessed, in trying to persuade her. “I would like to offer him a position here, as my… deputy. I do not know if that is the correct term.”

  Alicia pulled the overcoat closer around her. “I will see what he says.”

  “If he agrees, I will have rooms prepared.” He paused. “And, perhaps, you and I may come to know one another better while you are residing here?”

  She held his gaze. “I would like that, Jacob.”

  “My mother is keen to know you better, also. You are her niece, after all. I know she has treated you unkindly in the past, but she is eager to make reparations of her own, to traverse all of that lost time.”

  Alicia’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I would like that, too.”

  “Perhaps, that way, we may put all of these ghosts to rest. And, maybe, I will find a way to be worthy of your forgiveness,” he put his hand on the bench, though he did not reach for hers. Barely an inch separated their fingertips.

  “After learning of all you’ve told me, and all I’ve discovered, I no longer know if it is you that I need to forgive,” she replied, putting her hand on his. “You are half-Irish, half-English, the same as me. You did not know of your
true heritage, same as me—though I, at least, had some vague memories to help me along. You did not know what had happened to our families, as I did not. Your own brother tried to have you killed to punish you, as my father has punished me all these years. Perhaps, you and I are not so different.”

  “No… perhaps we are not.” He held her hand tightly. “And I would like to overcome any differences we still possess.”

  A strange, sudden laugh erupted from her throat. “Goodness, I am glad you’re not my cousin.”

  “You are?”

  She nodded eagerly. “Oh yes, very much so.”

  He did not know if that was the sign he had been hoping for, and he did not act upon it. If she agreed to come and live at the house with her father, they would have ample time for that. Maybe, next time, he would muster the courage to kiss her. Maybe… For now, he was happy just to sit with her and hold her hand and think of what might be.

  Chapter 44

  Alicia watched from a distance, as her father and Jacob walked with Edwards, the steward, and surveyed the estate. Despite her initial fears, her father had relented rather easily when she had told him of the offer to have them reside at Ravencliff, which had since been restored to its former name of Ballyroyal, at Jacob’s behest.

  A month had passed since the events by the wall, which had taken Owen’s life. He had been buried in the churchyard with his reputation intact. Only the disbanded Ribbonmen, herself, Tom, and Jacob knew what he had schemed, and no whisper of it had emerged, allowing the estate to start afresh with Jacob at the helm. And Alicia’s father at his side.

  In that time, Alicia had woken with thoughts of Jacob, and rested her head on her pillow at night with thoughts of him. Every moment she had to spare, when the Duchess was not attempting to educate her in the ways of being a lady, she spent with him. Even if it meant getting in his way while he was attempting to work. She knew he did not mind, for his eyes lit up whenever she was near.

  “Alicia!” Jacob called, spotting her.

  She waved and headed toward them. “I didn’t want to distract you.”

  “Aye, I thought you’d be at your needlepoint or something,” her father replied, with a grin. “Counting cattle ain’t no interesting place for a young lady to be.”

  “Don’t tell the Duchess, but I much prefer it,” she whispered conspiratorially, her eyes never leaving Jacob’s face.

  “That’s my girl.” Her father beamed with pride. He looked smart in new trousers and a freshly laundered shirt, his whiskers trimmed, and his hair neatly slicked. He had made quite the transformation since coming here a month ago. Truly, Jacob would not have been able to run the household as smoothly without him, for her father had remembered much from his own days as lord of this manor and knew how to keep all the cogs whirring perfectly.

  Not once had he raised his hand to her. Evidently, his near-brush with death, which he would not have survived without Jacob’s quick thinking, had prompted the initial change in him. There was still a great deal left to repair, but Alicia felt confident that they could fix their relationship now that her father had found contentment again. And if he ever did try to strike her again, Jacob would see to it that he was cast out for any harm he caused her.

  Finally, her father had remembered what he had, and what he stood to lose if he slipped back into his old ways. And though she had resented his behavior for so long, she was pleased to see that he had the strength left to rise from the ashes and stick to his resolve to be a better man.

  “I’ll go to the dairy with Edwards and look through the new ledgers,” her father said, making to move away. “It’s a fine afternoon. You ought to take a walk and enjoy it.”

  Alicia smirked. “Are you sure the sun hasn’t gone to your head, Da?”

  “A father can’t urge his daughter to take a walk?”

  “Not my father,” she retorted.

  He shrugged. “Well, walk or don’t, that’s up to you. I’m off to the dairy either way.” He set off with Edwards in tow, leaving Jacob alone with Alicia. They glanced at each other nervously, like new sweethearts who had yet to understand the minutia of one another’s personalities.

  Of course, that was not quite the case. They had spent many an evening in one another’s company, talking by the fireside while the Duchess and Alicia’s father exchanged stories of Juliet and the old Duke. They seemed to be repairing their own fractured acquaintanceship, slowly but surely. Though they had a lot more water under the bridge to wade through.

  “Would you care to walk?” Jacob asked.

  Alicia nodded. “It is a pleasant afternoon.”

  “I thought we might go to the old ruins?”

  “Lead the way,” she replied, struggling to hide her delight. Her father knew that letting his daughter wander alone with Jacob, without a chaperone, was not exactly proper, but the Prices were still remembering all the details of the upper echelons. And that allowed certain freedoms that Alicia was only too happy to take advantage of. She would endure the chiding from the Duchess later, when news reached her.

  A warm breeze embraced them as they walked away from the present manor and headed for the broken sentinel of the old castle, which kept perpetual watch over Ballyroyal. A few more of the ruins had fallen away, but the majority remained, stubborn as ever.

  “Did you think this would ever happen?” he said, as they came to a stop by one of the crumbling walls and looked out over the verdant landscape.

  She frowned. “What?”

  “That you would be back here, living in this house, learning how to be a lady again?” He smiled and glanced at her, the sunlight catching him in such a way that she had never seen him look more handsome. Then again, she had found herself gazing at him more often of late and remarking the same thing.

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever live up to your mother’s expectations,” she said glibly. “I have lived too long among the ordinary folk, that some aspects of high society seem completely foolish to me now. And I don’t know that I will ever know which knives and forks to use. Some of them are so tiny, they ought to be reserved for dolls.”

  He laughed. “I have told you. Work inwards, always.”

  “My dancing pleases her, though. I haven’t forgotten that. Even as a child, I loved to dance.” She closed her eyes and let the wind wash over her, tepid and gentle.

  “I would like to see you dance.” His voice made her eyes open, for there was a curious, desirous note to it that she could not ignore.

  “I would like to dance with you,” she said, unable to keep the words from tumbling out.

  He offered her his hand. “Dance with me, then.”

  “Here?” she gasped.

  “It is as good a place as any.”

  “But we have no music,” she protested.

  He shrugged. “We do not need music.”

  Shyly, she took his hand and allowed him to turn her in a circle, before they came back toward each other, their palms pressed together. She stepped back, imagining other dancers with them, as she turned and twirled and whirled in rhythm with his movements, always coming back toward the pull of him.

  “What do you make of the ball?” he teased, as the pretended to step around absent figures.

  She chuckled. “I think it rather fine.”

  “Really? I find the conversation lacking and I have not so much as glanced at any of the ladies my mother has presented. Indeed, you are quite the only interesting person here.” Their palms pressed once more, leaving Alicia breathless.

  “I was about to say the same thing. I only wished to be polite, as I know the efforts your mother has gone to with arranging this ball at such short notice,” she replied, grinning. “The ballroom might have sufficed, instead of having the walls falling down around us.”

  He smiled. “You dance beautifully.”

  “As do you,” she said.

  “May I speak frankly?” He twirled her around again, before bringing her back toward him, one hand resting boldly on the curve of
her spine. She made no motion to pull away. It felt nice to be held by him, and there was nobody to watch them. Not unless Tom was hiding in the trees beyond, which would not have been implausible. He had been given a position at the household, to take care of security matters.

  There had been no enduring rift between the two men, for once the first stings of grief had faded, Jacob had realized the favor that Tom had granted him by acting so swiftly and decisively, as a military man ought to have done. If he had not shot when he had, Alicia and Jacob both knew that he would be the one in the family mausoleum instead of Owen.

  She tilted her head. “Always.”

  “I am so very pleased you accepted the offer of coming to live here. My request was not entirely selfless, I have to admit,” he proceeded.

 

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