A Lady for the Forsaken Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  She leapt into the air, giving a giggle when she tripped on a stone and landed on the ground. She got up, dusting her bottom from the dust of the road. It had clearly not rained in quite some time.

  “These childish antics will bring us no closer to our destination, Madelene,” Maria commented.

  “Leave the child be, love. Freedom is enough to make anyone act a little childish,” said Giles.

  Maria pursed her lips and said no more. Her abigail would not be happy until they were on that ship bound for America.

  Madelene was accustomed to walking, but having spent a year in England where vigorous exercise for women seemed frowned upon, she could feel her feet starting to pain.

  “How long do you suppose we have been walking for?”

  Giles laughed. “It seems that our little Miss has smarting feet.”

  Maria, being the motherly person that she was, stopped.

  “Have a rest, ma cherie. Sit on this stone and take off those ridiculous boots.”

  She studied her boots, seeing absolutely nothing wrong with them.

  “Ridiculous boots?” she said. “I beg to differ. These are good quality Hessian boots, Maria. A little worse for wear, but perfectly acceptable. But I’ll take that rest, thank you. It appears that I cannot walk the distances that I used to.”

  She tried to make herself comfortable upon the rock, but it had edges that hurt her bottom. However, she refused to complain about it – she did not want to put wind into Maria’s sails.

  “Do you suppose that they have realised that we are gone?”

  Giles placed his load on the grass and sat down, drawing his wife to sit beside him. He picked up a piece of grass and started to pick his teeth. Madelene looked expectantly at him, waiting for her answer.

  “Perhaps in another two hours or so,” he finally said. “But that is if anyone should look into your room.”

  “Aunt Cornelia did say that the Earl would arrive at first light – he could be on the road right now. I think it wise that we leave the road and enter the woods.”

  The sudden fear that the Earl would find her was too great.

  “It is still too dark, Madelene,” Maria commented. “We will wait for better light.”

  “And the Earl?”

  She couldn’t keep the tinge of panic from her voice. Maria got to her feet and came to her, taking Madelene’s hat off to stroke her shorn head. All that remained of her golden tresses were softly curling wisps of hair that fell on her neck. The style would have been unacceptable for any self-respecting gentleman, but Maria had refused to remove any more hair.

  “And why should the Earl find you?” she said. “Unless someone took too close a look at you, no one would know that you are, in fact, a young woman. This ordeal has made you high strung, ma cherie. I will be glad once we are on that ship to America. Neither the Earl or the Viscount will find you then.”

  Maria was right; she didn’t look anything like her former self. Her pants were loose fitting, as was the plain cotton shirt that was tucked into the pants. With her bound breasts, no one would be able to tell that there was a womanly form underneath her clothing. The coat added extra baggage to her slender frame, further hiding any hint of who she was. The coat also made it easier to hide the two pistols that she carried with her, and her three knives were hidden in her boots. She was well-armed and could defend herself if the occasion arose. She wrapped her arms around Maria’s waist, drawing comfort from her quiet strength. A rustling in the woods behind her put her on edge, and she felt Maria’s body tense up.

  “What is that?” she whispered.

  Giles slowly got up from the floor, moving with a gracefulness that belied his size.

  “Come here,” he ordered.

  Both women moved toward him, and Madelene instinctively reached for her pistols, her hand closing over the one at her left breast. Everything went quiet, but they remained on edge.

  “Do you suppose that it was an animal?” Maria asked.

  Giles squinted his eyes into the woods, trying to make out any odd shapes that didn’t fit.

  “Perhaps, but I shall continue to keep a lookout.”

  They decided to carry on walking, not wanting to waste any more time. Dawn was approaching, and that meant that the Earl would pass them soon enough. There was only one road among these parts of the countryside that carriages could use, the other roads were too narrow and led to other houses. Grosvenor House was fortunate in that the broad road led right up to the grounds. However, Grosvenor House was no longer her concern. She was literally walking away from it and the people that had made her year in England as unenjoyable as extracting a tooth. Madelene was going to be happy once she was on a ship, watching the dock become smaller as she was carried further out to sea. She was still thinking about the adventure that awaited her when all hell suddenly broke loose as five men came out of the shadows and rushed towards them.

  *****

  Pringle had been frustrated at the lack of pickings in the countryside. He and his men had left London to escape the watchmen who were hot on their heels, but they still needed to make a living. When the three people had come into their view, they had first believed them to be common labourers, but something had told him not to dismiss them so quickly. While the men had laid low in the woods, he had followed them, listening to snippets of their conversation. What he had found out had pleased him immensely. They were on the run and had taken their essential belongings with them, and that included money and jewellery. Pringle had run back to his men, eager to mobilise them into action. His last thought when he attacked them was that they were finally going to rob some unsuspecting and unarmed travellers. With their scarves wrapped around their faces, they were unrecognisable as they charged what he deduced was a man, his son, and wife.

  “Come on, men, grab what you can!” he shouted. “Take the big man down!”

  His theory was that the bigger they were, the harder they fell. Kingsley, or ‘One–Eye’, was the first person to attack the big man, using his rough-hewn club to knock him out. The boy screamed and warned him of the coming blow. The man blocked it and sent Kingsley sprawling to the ground. Enraged, Pringle had thought to teach the young fella a lesson and grabbed him, intending to choke him until unconsciousness settled in. The minute he grabbed the boy, he could sense that something was odd about him, but he didn’t think much about it because he was wiggling about like a worm on a fishing hook.

  “Let me go!” shouted the boy.

  “Ho, hey! Seems like your voice hasn’t broken yet, boy! Let Uncle Pringle teach you about keeping your gob shut during a hold-up.”

  The older woman was trying to hold Timber off with her bag, but his man only laughed.

  “That won’t hold off a mouse, lady! Give it here!”

  Pringle joined in the laughter but quickly sobered when the boy dug his foot into his, knocked him in the stomach with his elbow and finally punched him in the throat. He quickly released the boy, clutching his throat.

  “You’re going to pay for that, boy,” he gasped.

  “I’d like to see you try!” he taunted.

  He went for his pistol, but the boy saw him and kicked his hand, sending the pistol flying into the air and landing on the ground a couple of feet away. The boy stuck his tongue out, seemingly enjoying the scuffle. A loud cry from the big man had the boy running to find his father on the floor and Willy brandishing his club in the air like a sword. As he was about to give a fatal blow to the man’s head, a knife materialised in the boy’s hand, and he sent it flying, missing Willy’s head by a hairsbreadth.

  “There’s more where that came from – drop the club,” the boy ordered.

  A scream from the woman turned the boy’s attention to his left; Kingsley had grabbed the bag and had pushed the woman to the floor. He watched the boy become angry and draw out two pistols.

  “I warned you!” he shouted.

  He fired two shots into the air, and they all paused. George made to lung
e for the pistols, but a quick shot in his direction stopped him.

  “Don’t think that I cannot use this, gentlemen. Drop your weapons, now!”

  They all hesitated, wanting to see if the boy was bluffing. In answer, he shot Willy’s hat off his head.

  “I’m not going to ask you again.”

  Fearing for their lives, they quickly emptied out their pockets of knives, pistols, and the clubs in their hands.

  “Now, get out of here before I really hurt one of you. Do you hear me?”

  Pringle was livid but did what the boy asked.

  “This be a dangerous thing you’re doing boy,” he warned.

  “No more dangerous than me holding these pistols and shooting a couple of bandits who would rob innocent people. I’m sure that no one would miss a couple of robbers, right gentlemen? And who would ever think that three unarmed people would be capable of getting rid of five men such as yourselves? We are just a simple family travelling through the countryside.”

  Pringle’s sharp ears picked up on the sound of a carriage approaching. It seemed that he was going to lose double pickings this early morning, and he had the boy to blame for it.

  Pringle spat on the ground. “We will leave, but you better watch your back, boy. Come on, men, let’s go.”

  They walked backwards, their eyes on the young boy. Pringle made sure that the boy saw the hatred in his eyes, a promise of what would happen in the future. But the boy wasn’t moved; he stared him down, watching them melt into the woods. This is not the end, I will get my revenge.

  *****

  Madelene was quaking in her boots, but she kept up her act of bravado until she was sure that the men were gone. With a cry, she let her hands drop to her sides, shocked by what had happened. She looked at Maria, who appeared shaken but alright as she got to her feet. It was Giles who needed her immediate attention. He was on the floor, clutching his leg. She ran to him and knelt down, trying to find where the wound was.

  “What did they do to you Giles? Where is the pain?”

  “It’s my knee,” he said through closed teeth.

  “Okay, okay, you just sit right there; I’ll be back.”

  She stood up and paused. Is that a carriage coming this way? She could hear the faint sounds of what appeared to be horses’ hooves beating the earth, but she couldn’t be sure. Perhaps it’s just the blood pounding in my ears.

  “Where are you going, Miss Madelene?” he asked. “It’s not safe to be alone.”

  “Hush now, Giles. I need to find something to support your knee, a thick stick or something.”

  Maria finally made her way over to her husband and cried out in alarm when she saw the strain on his face.

  “Mon amour, what did they do to you?” she asked. “Where are you hurt?”

  “It’s just my knee, love. Miss Madelene will help me – she’s used to this type of thing. The number of times that she had to stitch up or set the bones of a pirate ...”

  A sudden spasm of pain had him gritting his teeth. Maria sat down and drew his head onto her lap, stroking his brow. Madelene returned soon after with two thick sticks that she intended to use to support his knee. She was going to secure them with a piece of the sheet they were using as a sack. As she got to work, the sound of horses’ hooves and wheels drew their attention to the road. So I did hear right. Perhaps they heard the sound of my pistols? Madelene welcomed the arrival of the carriage, hoping that they would be helped. She could see that Giles would not be able to walk much further in his condition. But as the carriage approached them, she took note of the crest and the grandeur of the exterior. This was no ordinary carriage. Fear seized her heart as she realised who the owner of the carriage was.

  “It’s the Earl,” she whispered.

  *****

  Hugh was not looking forward to meeting Harry Huntington. He did not know what had possessed him to agree to accept the girl’s hand in the first place, but he was going to make it right. There was no way on earth that he was going to marry a young girl that he had never met. Furthermore, her blood ties to Huntington made her as desirable as mouldy bread. Hugh did not want anything to do with a gambler like Huntington, and if he had to use his rank as a reason, then so be it. If truth be told, Hugh could not have been any less bothered by his position as Earl of Scarborough. His peers seemed to enjoy lording their rank over those who were of lesser status, but Hugh understood the futility of it. The War had taught him that truth – every man bled the same way, cried the same way when death faced them and lied the same way. His title as the Earl of Scarborough had not changed him in the slightest. He had become Earl by chance, a choice made by an old man desperate to continue his lineage. However, as far as he was concerned, he was still Hugh Trentham, hated son of his parents, and a rumoured murderer. A title did not change a man’s past – experience had taught him that.

  A knocking on his carriage had him sticking his head out of the window.

  “My lord,” his steward said. “There are people up ahead. One appears to be hurt. Should we stop?”

  He crossed to the other window to catch a glimpse of the people. Right enough, the big man was lying on the ground as a young male strapped his knee. An older woman, who he guessed to be the man’s wife, held his head in her lap. What were they doing on the road at this hour? Hugh had believed that he had imagined the pistol shots, but the scene before him hinted that this was not the case.

  “You may slow down, Prescott, but do not stop. We need to make sure that these people are not staging a heist.”

  He had heard of bandits and highwaymen who pretended to be hurt and then attacked their unsuspecting victims.

  “Right you are, My Lord,” his steward said.

  Hugh heard him order the driver to slow down, and he could feel the immediate change in pace. As they neared the trio, Hugh realised that they would not be able to pass them because they were in the middle of the road. He noticed some items on the floor and narrowed his eyes, only to widen them when he found them to be weapons littered on the ground around the travellers. The woman was crying, and he could see that the man was indeed in pain. He knocked the roof of the carriage with his walking stick. The carriage came to a complete halt a few feet away from the scene before them. Before he knew it, Hugh found himself stepping out of the carriage. Prescott was by his side in an instant.

  “Wait, My Lord. Let me survey the situation first – these could be bandits, after all.”

  His steward made a good point; these people could be dangerous. But something within him rejected the notion. He flipped his coat open, showing his pistol. He was more than ready for a confrontation. Prescott knew better than to argue – Hugh was trained in combat and could handle a pistol better than anyone that he knew.

  “Follow behind me, Prescott. We must be on our guard.”

  The steward nodded, feeling for the pistol that his Master had insisted that he carry on his person. They approached the trio, making themselves known some steps away.

  “Good morning!” Hugh called out. “I see that you’re hurt!”

  The boy paused before whispering something to his companions. The man seemed to argue, but the boy would not hear of it. He finally turned around, and Hugh was immediately struck by the vividness of his blue eyes. This is a boy? But that is what his garments and form seemed to indicate.

  “My father is hurt, sir. We were attacked by bandits, but I managed to drive them off back into the woods. But they could come back again.”

  The boy’s voice sounded odd as if it was put on. Perhaps the boy’s voice has not broken yet. He tipped his hat to the woman before turning his attention back on the boy. He seemed to be around fourteen or sixteen, but there was no hint of a beard growing on his face. Must be a late developer. He was more of a young man than a boy, but his lack of hair made him a boy in Hugh’s sight.