Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hamilton, Hanna

  Gerome stared in surprise. “He was here, but a short while ago. I left him with the accomplice and His Lordship, as I ran back to the ballroom for you. He was just here, I swear it.” He began to scour the banks on either side of the bridge, peering for any signs of foul play.

  “Where are they, Gerome?” she whispered, her throat constricting.

  “My Lady, I cannot say. They were here, I promise you.” He looked close to tears.

  “What if something has happened to them?” she gasped, trying to drag breath into her tightened lungs.

  “I am sure it has not,” he said, reassuring her. However, it was too late for that. She could not be calmed.

  “How can you be sure?”

  He sighed. “I cannot, My Lady. Indeed, perhaps you should stand in the center of the bridge in case someone comes,” he warned, his demeanor equally perplexed. “It may be that they have decided to bring the carriage closer, so you do not have to walk as far. Or, perhaps, the accomplice made her escape and they have chased after her. I do not know.”

  Taking a shaky breath, she heeded his advice and stepped up to the center of the bridge, leaning against the balustrade. Her knees were trembling, threatening to give way at any moment.

  Ewan, where are you? Come back to me, as you said you would. Hurry.

  She glanced towards the opposite bank, squinting at the darkness there. A rustle of leaves made her pulse quicken, and the snap of a distant branch went off like a gunshot. There was somebody out there, she was certain of it. She could feel their eyes, watching her. Determined not to be captured by Seth, she kept her gaze fixed on the woodland. Nobody would creep up on her unawares, not with Gerome watching her from the other side. Here, she was safe.

  Suddenly, a shadow flitted in front of her eyes. She staggered backwards, bumping into something—or rather, someone—solid. She tried to turn, to see who it was, but strong hands held her forwards, preventing her. Before she could open her mouth to scream, that same, strong hand clamped over her mouth and something scratchy slid around her neck. It tightened, with just enough pressure to warn of what might happen if it tightened any further.

  “Don’t make a sound,” a voice warned. A familiar voice. Painfully familiar. “I’ll kill you where you stand if you make even a squeak. Nod if you understand.”

  With tears streaming from her eyes, she nodded slowly.

  “Good. I would prefer it if you could speak,” the voice said, releasing her mouth from his grip.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whimpered. “What have I done to you?”

  A bitter laugh hissed in her ear. “You took the place that was rightfully mine.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “You were wanted, whilst I was abandoned and left to rot. Our father chose unwisely, and now you will suffer for his ill-fated mistake. I deserved his affection as much as you did, if not more. I would not have flouted his good name and humiliated him with such outlandish ideas of becoming a physician. I would have been a good son, had he but let me. But he will pay, Henrietta. He will pay, and it will cost him dearly.”

  “Gerome… please, let me go.”

  “It is much too late for that now, Henrietta. My revenge is almost at its completion.”

  All this time, she had suspected Seth, when Gerome had been the one plotting against her and her father. She wracked her brain furiously, trying to make sense of it, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. He had become Ewan’s manservant shortly after the wedding. He had come to Scarborough with them. He was the one who sent the letters… he was the one who took mine from the postal box. He overheard our every word. He used Ewan to get close to me, so that he might punish my father. Ewan had entrusted him with everything—the one man we ought to have been watching.

  “You said ‘our father’. What do you mean?” Henrietta tried to even out her voice, knowing that panic would get her nowhere. The rope around her neck dug in harder, grating against her skin.

  “My name may be Gerome Buffond, but I deserved the title of Oliver,” he spat viciously, tugging on the rope. “Our father, the great war hero, seduced my mother during the battles in France. She died of grief, after he abandoned us both to a life of destitution. I was alone, living out my youngest years in an orphanage, in grime, and filth, and squalor. Can you picture that, Henrietta?” He said the last words with such venom that she physically recoiled.

  “I am sorry, Gerome,” she murmured. “I—”

  “I do not want your pity!” he snapped. “I want your life, Henrietta. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. I am owed that much.”

  She lifted her hands to try and loosen the rope. “How do you know he is the one who did this to you?” Keep him talking, and I may find my means of escape. Her eyes scoured the banks desperately, praying for a miracle. Clutterbuck should have been here, but a sinking feeling made her realize that Gerome had already dealt with her father’s man. She looked at the rushing river below and felt her chest grip in a vise of horror.

  “My mother left me a note, though I did not receive it until years later, upon my exit from the orphanage,” he explained bitterly. “When I discovered the truth, I gave my life to the pursuit of revenge—hers and mine. You will be my crowning glory. He will be made to watch you die—the thing he loves most in this world. The daughter who disappoints him at every turn.”

  “Let me go,” Henrietta pleaded. “We can speak with my father together. We may resolve this without any harm. I am certain he would wish to meet with you, if you would allow him to.”

  He scoffed. “The time for talking is long past. He did not return to see my mother, though he knew there might have been a child. He cast her aside, and he cast me aside, and soon he will know what that pain feels like. He will suffer, as I have suffered. There can be no forgiveness now.”

  There was nothing more frightening than a person with nothing left to lose. Henrietta knew that. She could tell that Gerome did not care if this ended in his death, too. At least he would have tasted the sweet nectar of long-sought vengeance. In fact, she sensed that he did not plan to survive this, either. He was going to drag her down with him and bring the ultimate agony to their father.

  “I am your sister, Gerome,” she said softly. “You cannot kill your own blood. You would not.”

  He tugged the rope harder, squeezing too tight. “I have been ordered around for long enough, bowing and scraping to work my way up to your household. You did not pay me any heed when I was in your husband’s employ. Do not expect me to believe that you view me as anything other than staff. You high-and-mighty leeches are all the same.”

  “There must be a way to stop you from doing this,” Henrietta gasped, struggling for air. A pressure was building behind her eyes, her cheeks hot.

  “And the way you treated poor Mr. Booth, whose only crime was speaking out and losing his job,” Gerome sneered. “It was almost too easy to distract you from my endeavors. Your sights were solely upon him. He was the perfect scapegoat when, indeed, he suspected me the moment he arrived at Lord Averson’s residence. That wench of his has been trying to follow me, attempting to catch me in the act, though I am always one step ahead of them both. All of you, in fact.”

  Henrietta’s heart lurched. “She was trying to warn me away from you.”

  “You are slowly figuring it out,” he mocked.

  “They were there to watch me. To ensure you did not strike at me.”

  “Perhaps you are sharper than I have given you credit for,” he mused. “Although, you followed me so readily, like a lamb to the slaughter. Not once did you suspect that something was amiss, trailing after me with that pitiful expression of fear on your face.”

  “Spare me, Gerome. I beg of you.”

  He laughed coldly. “Why? I know you cannot be with child, for you have spurned your husband’s advances. Or did you think to lie to me, to appeal to my ‘better nature’?”

  “I wish to live,” she replied firmly.

  “Then it i
s too bad for you.” Without another word, he tied a gag across Henrietta’s mouth and hoisted her over the edge of the bridge. Her feet landed on the perilously thin edge between the Doric-style gaps, scuffling for purchase. She wobbled forwards and backwards, until Gerome pulled on the rope, steadying her. There was a steep distance between her and the water below. One hard push, and she would end up dangling from the rope around her neck. Which she suspected was the point.

  The only trouble was, Gerome’s audience had yet to arrive. Henrietta knew that might buy her some more time. Indeed, she was about to open her mouth to try and convince him once more that he ought to release her, when a cry shot through the still atmosphere.

  “Stop! Let her go!”

  Chapter 35

  Ewan walked back into the ballroom, searching for Averson and Henrietta. He had spoken with General Oliver about the soldiers, but there had been no disturbance as of yet. The General had been liaising with Davids, whose job it was to run between the other four soldiers and have them report any peculiarities. So far, they had seen nothing.

  He frowned as he approached Averson, glancing around for his wife. “Where is Henrietta?” he asked, without preamble.

  Averson shrugged. “Haven’t the foggiest.”

  “Are you inebriated?” He shook Averson by the shoulders.

  “I have imbibed, but I would not say I am inebriated.” A giggle spilled out of his mouth, confirming Ewan’s suspicions.

  “Where is my wife, Averson?” he asked again, his tone sharp.

  “She left.”

  “Where did she go?”

  He smirked drunkenly. “I cannot say, for I do not know. She disappeared into the crowd and I have not seen her since. She looks extraordinarily splendid this evening, does she not? Quite divine.”

  “Averson, where is my wife?” He raised his voice, his eyes narrowed in anger and panic. He scoured the ballroom for any sign of her, but her face could not be seen amongst the revelers. She is not here. She is not here! Where can she be?

  Just then, a figure approached. A figure that Ewan had not expected to see. Indeed, it took all of his strength not to lunge at the wretch, who dared to stand before him.

  “You,” Ewan hissed, scowling at Seth Booth.

  “Her Ladyship is missing, is she not?” he asked bluntly.

  “How dare you! Where have you put her? What have you done with her? I demand that you answer me this instant.”

  Seth folded his hands behind his back. “I am not the man you seek, My Lord. I did not do anything to your wife, though I believe I know who has taken her. Indeed, I made efforts to interject, but he got there before I could speak to Her Ladyship. And, given our past history and your present suspicions, I did not think she would believe me, even if I were to warn her.”

  Ewan frowned. “Warn her? What are you babbling about, man? What have you done with her?”

  “My wife gave her a warning, as I had suspicions of my own—suspicions as to who was terrorizing you,” he explained swiftly. “I heard some of it from my master, and the rest I was attempting to piece together. I feared he may strike tonight, but I did not know how to alert you. You would have thought it another ploy of mine, and so I came to try and stop it myself.”

  “Be plain with me, Mr. Booth,” Ewan urged, his mind in turmoil. Seth looked rather too calm for a man who wished to cause harm to Henrietta.

  “Your manservant, Gerome—he took her. Shortly after you left her here with Lord Averson, Gerome came running up to her and said something that I could not hear. I imagine he told her that you had asked him to collect her, or something of that ilk. She trusted him—you both did—and so she left with him. I tried to trail them, but I lost them in the darkness.”

  Panic ricocheted through Ewan’s nerves. “Gerome? You are certain?”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  “Why, Gerome should not even be here. I left him at the Old Bell to attend to his duties.”

  Seth nodded. “It was the perfect ruse, to get close to Her Ladyship.”

  “Which direction did they go in?”

  “I did not see.”

  Ewan gritted his teeth, trying to fathom a solution amidst his confusion. Why would Gerome have betrayed him like this? He did not want to believe it, and yet… he had not instructed Gerome to come here. There could be no reason for his presence and no reason for his conversation with Henrietta. He hated to admit it, but it sounded as if Seth was correct in his assumptions. All this time, they had been watching the wrong manservant.

  “I must go to General Oliver,” Ewan said abruptly. “You must come with me, to tell him what you have told me. We must decipher Lady Peterborough’s whereabouts, before he can cause her further distress.”

  “Certainly, My Lord.”

  Without wasting another moment, they hurried out of the ballroom and headed towards the location of Ronscales. After speaking with Aaron earlier, the General had informed Ewan that he would be accompanying Davids to check in on his men, starting with Ronscales. Ewan just hoped he would still be there. These gardens were vast, and they had a ticking clock above them, counting down the minutes of Henrietta’s safety.

  They raced towards the Northern exit, arriving not a moment too soon. By the looks of it, Aaron was preparing to leave, no doubt heading to visit with another of his men. I am not too late. We can waste no time. The General looked up in alarm as Ewan hurtled towards him at a fearsome sprint, skidding to a halt on the gravel path leading up to the grand entrance.

  “General, I am so glad to have found you,” he gasped, catching his breath.

  “Whatever is the matter, My Lord? You look as if you have seen a ghost.”

  It is All Hallow’s Eve and the ghosts are rising. If Gerome was the culprit, what had he meant by that? What ghosts were he referring to? It did not make any sense.

  Aaron’s gaze turned to Seth. “What are you doing here?” His tone was scathing.

  “Mr. Booth, tell the General what you told me,” Ewan urged.

  “Lord Peterborough’s manservant, Gerome, has led your daughter away from the ball, and I fear he has done so with nefarious intentions,” Seth replied obediently. “I understand from my observations that you have suspected me of foul play, but I have been investigating Gerome. I discovered him at the postal office taking letters that did not belong to him. I knew he was in the employment of Lord Peterborough, and began to suspect that something was amiss with his behavior. I did not wish to come to you until I had suitable evidence, but I fear I ought to have spoken sooner.”

  Aaron’s mouth fell open. “Gerome is the villainous wretch who wrote those letters?”

  Ewan nodded. “It would appear that we have been hoodwinked—all of us. Henrietta included. She is in danger, General. We do not know where he has taken her, and we do not know why.” He paused. “I received a note from him, regarding ‘rising ghosts.’ I know he spoke of similar in your letter. Do you have any understanding of that?”

  Aaron frowned. “I cannot think of anything.”

  “Have your men all reported back?” Ewan pressed, knowing they were losing precious seconds.

  “I have spoken with Ronscales, as you see, and Davids has gone to receive reports from Wright, Clutterbuck, and Fletcher.”

  Hurried footsteps on the gravel made them all turn. Davids was sprinting towards them at full pelt, his eyes wild. He did not stop until he stood before them, his chest heaving with the exertion of the run. Through his gasps, he spoke.

  “Clutterbuck has been discovered at the side of the garden path, General,” he wheezed. “He is alive, but he took a nasty knock to the back of the head. Wright is with him, and Fletcher is heading towards the Eastern exit, but I fear the devil may have already escaped us.” Only then did he notice Seth, who stood silently, a slight smirk on his face. Ewan could understand his triumphant expression, for all of this proved his innocence.

  “We must go there at once,” Aaron ordered. He took off before anyone could say a word, ru
nning towards his daughter. Ewan prayed they would not arrive to find something terrible had happened. Or worse, that she had vanished into thin air, like a specter in the night.

  His heart ached as he sprinted after the General and his men, fearing the worst but hoping for a miracle. He could not lose Henrietta now. He had promised to keep her safe, and he had failed in his task. I should not have left her side. I should have remained with her. I should not have strayed from my post. To suffer her loss would break him beyond repair. There would be no recovery from that.

  He had contemplated suicide once before. He hoped he would not be forced into that darkness again, from which there was only one possible escape.