The Stolen Diadem of a Castaway Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hanna Hamilton

  “How did you know what to do?” a soft voice asked. Beatrix startled and looked to see Lord Bellton standing in the hallway.

  “I have had to treat many an injury and illness over the years,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders slightly. “In truth, I don’t know that I thought about it much at all. It simply needed to be done.”

  “Whatever power you called upon for strength and guidance, it was an incredible sight to behold,” he said. “I am indebted to you now more than ever, as though my debt weren’t already insurmountable.”

  “Think nothing of it,” she answered, a determined note in her voice. “I did what anyone would have done. What you would have done yourself.”

  “Me?” Lord Bellton laughed derisively at himself. “I did not even know if we had some tinctures in the house! I had to go ask someone for needles and bandages! Supposedly everything I can lay eyes on at any given moment belongs to me, yet I knew not what I even had to save a man’s life. I assure you, I could never have done what you just did.”

  “I have every faith in you, that you would have mustered up the strength and conviction to do it when needed,” she answered, smiling wearily.

  “I am very much afraid that your faith in me is misplaced, and that I am wholly undeserving,” Lord Bellton said, looking down and seemingly rather ashamed.

  “I have no such fear,” Beatrix said, holding out her hand and reaching for his. She held his tightly when he took her hand. “I know that you will be the man you must be whenever the opportunity arises.”

  The small gesture seemed to thrill Lord Bellton to no end. He joined her where she leaned against the wall, watching her face adoringly as he let his head fall to the side, content to enjoy this silent moment between them. Too soon, she stood upright and announced their need for nourishment.

  “Please, let me wait upon you,” he said, stunning Beatrix into silence. She only nodded, so he led her from the hallway to the kitchen and held out a chair for her in the now empty room.

  “Only, I don’t think I know what to do here,” Lord Bellton said, grinning slightly as he looked around. He took an apron from a peg on the wall and put it on backwards, making Beatrix laugh. He winked at her and turned it around, letting her know it was all in good fun.

  “Start with the water,” Beatrix said, nodding in the direction of the large kettle. “Perhaps you might put a pot on to boil over the stove there, and we could enjoy some eggs and bread with cheese.”

  “Right! That sounds wonderful.” He looked lost again, and asked, “Where do you suppose the bread might be hiding?”

  Beatrix laughed. “I’m no expert in noble household affairs, but I would keep it hidden in the bread box over there.”

  Lord Bellton heated the water and fetched the eggs from a basket in the pantry. He reached for a small item on a shelf above the stove and held it up for Beatrix to see. “I do remember this from when I was a boy and would play down here in the kitchen. The cook had said it would tell me how long the eggs should boil.”

  He set the hourglass on the table in front of Beatrix and gave her stern instructions to watch it closely. Then he hurried to bring out a loaf of bread, a wedge of hard cheese, and a sharp knife from a crock on the counter.

  Beatrix wanted desperately to take the knife and bread from his inept hands and put an end to his ruination of the loaf, but she stopped. This was a man who’d never lifted a finger to care for himself, attempting to provide her with a meal. She would not steal this moment from him, no matter how disastrous the results.

  When he finally presented her plate to her, Beatrix fought to keep from laughing. The eggs appeared to be wilted in their cups, the bread was a shamble of crumbs and crusts, and the cheese looked as though it had recently lost a battle of some sort. Still, when she dipped a corner of crust in the soft yellow of her egg, the taste was as wonderful as if she’d made it herself and sat at her father’s table to enjoy it.

  “This is by far the best meal I’ve eaten today,” Beatrix announced. Lord Bellton laughed.

  “By my count, this disgrace to culinary art forms is the only meal you’ve eaten today!”

  “What disgrace?” she asked, feigning insult. “I’ll have you know, this is precisely the way the Queen has been serving bread at her table this season! I believe it’s a new recipe from the French called ‘pan au oh dear.’”

  “Really?” Lord Bellton asked, playing along. “Well, if it’s good enough for the Queen, then I’m sure it will nourish us just as well.”

  “My Lord?” the butler asked, coming down the stairs. “The physician has arrived.”

  “Oh, that is good news!” Lord Bellton gushed. Even Beatrix looked relieved. “Send him this way, I’ll meet him in there myself.” He turned to Beatrix and asked, “Will you come explain your work to him?”

  “He should see it well enough. If it’s all the same, I’d like to get outside for a moment and breathe in the fresh air. I’ve seen enough blood today!”

  “Understood,” Lord Bellton said, rising to meet the physician. “Thank you again for all you’ve done.”

  He hurried to see to the physician and his patient, leaving Beatrix to finish her meal contentedly. Her mind was still a storm of emotion, the tempest scattering her feelings and good sense like leaves in the wind. But she was, for the first time since arriving at the marquess’ home, not weighed down by a feeling of foreboding, the sense that something dark was about to befall her.

  Beatrix rose and walked outside, the freshness in the air and the afternoon sunshine on her face doing much to revive her spirits. She stood for a moment with her back to the kitchen wall, simply feeling relieved that her part was over. The driver was now in the capable hands of the physician.

  “Miss?” a man’s voice said, jarring her from her reverie. Beatrix turned and looked at the stranger. “Are you the young lady who tended to my patient?”

  “Oh, you must be the physician!” she said. Beatrix looked down, certain the old man would issue a much-deserved tongue lashing for her attempts at rendering aid. Instead, he took her hand and spoke to her warmly.

  “Yes, I’m Sir Williams, I’m pleased to meet you. I came outside to say that while you may not have had the benefits of a formal education on health and vitality, you have without a doubt saved that man’s very life,” he said, smiling behind a grandfatherly mustache. “I hope it’s not too early to say so, but I dare believe you also saved his leg. He owes you his life, and I am grateful that I was not met upon the road today and told there would be no need of my services due to his death.”

  Beatrix wilted slightly under the praise, relief filling her core. She thanked Sir Williams and wiped at a tear. He shook her hand once more and returned to his patient, leaving her in a much better state of mind than he’d found her.

  “Well, aren’t you a pretty girl?” Beatrix whispered as she approached the physician’s horse. It still stood in the courtyard, forgotten in the haste to bring the healer inside. “Let’s see if we can find someone to remove your tack, shall we?”

  Taking the chestnut mare by the reins, Beatrix led her to the stable and peered inside. Everyone seemed to be out and about their other duties, so she put the animal in a stall, loosened the girth strap and removed the saddle, then slipped the bridle and bit from the horse’s head. She took the pail from its hook in the stall and filled it with fresh water from the trough outside, but dared not feed the horse without speaking to someone first.

  “No, I’ve taken quite enough liberties today,” she thought, looking at the creature and hoping it wasn’t famished, “best not test my luck any further. You’ll just have to survive a little longer with an empty belly!”

  A shadow passed over the open door to the stable and Beatrix turned, hoping it was someone who could feed the poor horse. Instead, she was taken aback to discover it was the insufferable old Earl, a glare of disgust on his face.

  “You there,” the man said, stepping closer and pointing a finger at her. “Who are
you? Explain yourself, and how you happen to be here at the disadvantage of the Marquess!”

  “I beg your pardon, good sir,” Beatrix said smartly, ignoring the man’s title which she knew rather well, “but I do not answer to you or to anyone.”

  “I happen to have information that states you are a well-known and wanted thief,” the Earl said, smirking. “I have already sent word to the constable, who will be arriving shortly.”

  “Why do you despise me so?” Beatrix demanded, narrowing her eyes in defiance. “What offense have I committed that has caused you to seek me out with such singular attention?”

  “Your very existence disgusts me!” the Earl roared. “Your kind have succumbed to the mistaken belief that you are on par with your betters, you have no notion of keeping to your place. Worse, you would seek to trap a man such as Lord Bellton with your cheap ways, ruining his reputation and his future in the process.”

  “I do not have to stand idly by and allow yet another silk-gloved do-nothing speak to me thus! You have no right to hold me captive,” she stated, throwing her shoulders back and holding her head high. “If you’ll kindly move aside, I will be on my way.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” he answered, retrieving a small pistol from his pocket and pointing it at Beatrix. “You shouldn’t even be here. You should have never been here! It is all for naught if anyone discovers…”

  “Discovers what?” she whispered as the Earl’s voice trailed off. “I have committed no offense! I was not even a willing accomplice in my arrival here!”

  “Excellent, then surely no one shall miss you,” he answered, aiming the gun even higher.

  Before he had a chance to render her any harm, a streak of shadow burst through the open door. A man landed atop the disadvantaged gentleman and began pummeling him about the face. The Earl, still taken by surprise, cried out in alarm, begging anyone near to assist him.

  After the soundest thrashing the Earl had likely ever received, his attacker pushed himself up off of the man’s prone figure and stood back apace, breathing heavily as he sought to control his rage. His fists clenched and released over and over, and anyone nearby would have seen that his most fervent desire was to kill this horrible excuse for a man.

  Through it all, Beatrix stood mute, too astonished by the attack to intervene. Now that the newcomer stood over the Earl and paused his assault, she stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm.

  “Father? What are you doing here?”

  “My child, I’ve come to save you from this place!” Prince Aaron said, taking Beatrix in his arms and holding her close. “Are you harmed? Did they hurt you?”

  “No, Father,” she hedged, avoiding describing her first days at the estate. “In fact, I had intended to be on my way home just this morning, but an accident here prevented me.”

  “An accident? What happened, are you hurt?” her father demanded in alarm. He shot an angry glance where the Earl still lay on the ground holding his battered face.

  “Oh no, I’m not harmed. It was the very carriage driver who was to bring me home!” Beatrix explained what had happened and how she had cared for the man until the physician could arrive.

  “That’s my brave girl, always so tender-hearted!” Prince Aaron said, smiling sadly. “They who do not deserve your kindness and goodwill have reaped the benefits of your generosity! But I know you would naw have it any other way!”

  “Tis true if you say so!” she answered, falling against his chest and resting her head against him, safe in his embrace at last. “But how did you manage to find me?”

  “Daughter, you will never believe who your truest champion is… none other than Cooke!” Her father laughed, a rich, deep sound that she had missed so much. “He managed to follow the villain who stole you away, then came back to report on your whereabouts. He shall be handsomely rewarded for his effort.”

  “Cooke, are you sure?” Beatrix asked, smiling at the picture in her mind of the very simple but very loyal man. “I did not know he had it in him!”

  “When he saw you bound and taken away, he flew into a temper that no other man could have withstood. He gave chase—on foot, no less!—and came back with Pencot to seek your whereabouts. I’m sorry that I was not here for you sooner, my child,” Prince Aaron said, kissing the top of Beatrix’s head.

  “It is all right, Father. The first day and the second were most unpleasant—” She stopped when she saw her father’s expression turn to anger once again. “—but soon after, the master of the house had a change of heart. I must tell you all about it as we travel home, but I am much obliged to assist him and to beg you to overlook his crime.”

  “Overlook it? I should think not!” Aaron said loudly. “After he stole the most valuable thing in my life without so much as a care for your wellbeing? Never!”

  “Father, only promise me you will listen. There is a great misunderstanding, I’m afraid,” Beatrix implored, “and when you learn of it, you will understand better.”

  Her father was quiet as he thought it over, but soon he nodded sagely. “I will listen with full attention and reserve my judgment until you’ve finished. That is all I can promise you. But tell me, who is this worthless wretch whose life I should have ended the moment I laid eyes upon him?” Prince Aaron demanded, kicking the Earl in the shin.

  “Ugh, a most insufferable piece of rot!” Beatrix said. “I know not why he has such disdain for me, for I’m certain I have not wronged him in any way.”

  The Earl rolled to his side and pushed himself up to a seated position, mopping the blood from his face with a silk handkerchief. He looked up at his assailant with a fierce look of fury.

  “You!” Prince Aaron exclaimed. “But how is it possible? And what business do you have with my daughter after all this time?”

  “Your daughter?” the Earl demanded, scoffing as he spit a clot of blood from between his teeth. “Dare I say, you mean the child you stole from her cradle!”

  Chapter 23

  Rather than challenging the man as Beatrix expected, her father was silent. The blood drained from his face as recognition dawned. Beatrix clung to Prince Aaron, looking between the two men as they stared at each other in anger.

  “Father?” she finally managed to whisper. “What is he saying?”

  “Nothing of any importance, as always,” her father said quietly after he managed to swallow back his distress.

  “It’s not important then?” Weavington said with a sneer. “Tell that to her face, speak those words to her poor mother!”

  “Beatrix, I beg of you to go into the house,” Prince Aaron said, turning to face his daughter and taking her by the arms. “I must have a word with this scoundrel.”

  “But what does he speak of? I don’t understand,” she answered, tears pooling along her lower lashes. “He spoke of my mother, of telling her… telling her what? And how? What does he mean?”

  Aaron said nothing, but the Earl began to laugh coldly. Beatrix, nearly mad with confusion, wanted to throttle both of them until she was given the explanation she felt due.

  “Lady Beatrix?” Lord Bellton called out affectionately as he, too, entered the stables. “Is everything all right? There was a commotion, and now I find… oh, what’s this? You appear to be an acquaintance of hers, you must be her—”

  Prince Aaron’s fist collided solidly with Lord Bellton’s face, sending him sprawling backwards. The Earl shouted in surprise as Bellton fell to the ground, and Beatrix cried out indignantly.

  “Father! You mustn’t do such a thing!” she said, pushing past Aaron and coming to kneel beside Lord Bellton.

  “He had it coming,” Aaron said dryly. “I’d already vowed it would be the first thing I did when I saw him.”

  Stepping closer, Aaron leaned down slightly and held out his hand to help the Marquess to his feet. Lord Bellton hesitated, expecting only another thrashing, but accepted the offer of help once he’d registered the amiable look on the man’s face.

  “I
suppose I wholly deserve that,” he said, letting Aaron prop him up on his feet as he rubbed his jaw. “I hope that is all you think I deserve?”

  “That remains to be seen,” Prince Aaron said, “but for now I think it will serve. You seem to be a decent fellow, and my daughter says she was treated well for the most part.”

  “Never fear, Bellton,” Weavington called out impatiently. “I’ll have that added to the list of charges when the authorities haul him to the stocks. He’s already in it for quite a number of offenses, and now for striking two members of the peerage.”

  “I don’t remember anything of the kind,” Bellton answered, looking down at the Earl with an air of indifference. “Did anyone else witness such violence?”