ROSALIND: A Regency Romance (Bachelor Brides, Book 1)

by Jenny Hambly

  “Oh, how clever you are!”

  Rosalind jumped, she had not heard Belle approach. “You have caught the beauty of the lake and park beyond but it is more than that. I can almost feel the air. You have caught the breeze skipping over the lake and rustling the trees, I can almost hear birdsong when I look at it!”

  Rosalind smiled at her enthusiasm. “It’s not bad, I suppose, it relaxes me.”

  “Not bad? I could not paint anything half so well, Rosalind.”

  “Well thank you. It is my only real accomplishment, however, as I am sure climbing trees doesn’t count, and I am sure you have many.”

  Belle laughed. “You would think so with all the teachers I have had but I am afraid I was a sad romp growing up. I could never be still long enough to learn anything of any great importance! I have been sent to find you as it is nearly time to get ready for dinner.”

  Rosalind blinked. “Already?”

  “Yes, so come on, give me something to carry.”

  “Do you think your mother would like the painting?” she asked as they strolled up to the house. “I would like to repay her in some way for all her kindness.”

  “She’ll adore it,” confirmed Belle. She looked as if she would like to say more but then they saw Lady Atherton waving from the terrace.

  “Come on, girls, or you will be late!” she called.

  She was as delighted as Belle had predicted with her painting and Rosalind felt a little spring in her step as she went up to change for dinner.

  Chapter 9

  When Lord Atherton and Sir Philip rode out the next day, they found no evidence of habitation at the old lodge. The windows were shuttered and the knocker was off a door whose paint was peeling sadly; the whole place looked damp and neglected with ivy obscuring much of the house so they were forced to conclude that the gossip had been incorrect. He was not really surprised, strangers were not that common in these rural parts and were often viewed with unwarranted suspicion as a matter of course. They had more luck with the elusive stranger who had been seen in the home wood, however. Astley village boasted only one inn, The Green Man, and the landlord, a very respectable gentleman who ran a basic but tidy little business, was well known to Lord Atherton and recognised Rosalind’s sketch straight away.

  “Aye, he was staying here alright, a Mr Timms, but if you wanted to see him milord you’re out of luck, he left yesterday. My Tom took him to Shrewsbury in the cart, so he could take the stage back to Lunnon.”

  “And do you know what his business was, Scorton?”

  “He was a friendly enough cove, he did ask a few questions about who was up at the big house, but only in a general way, like. Said he’d been looking for a nice quiet spot to recuperate after an illness and had heard the country around here was good for walking. He did seem to spend most of his time tramping about but that’s all I know, milord.” He sucked his teeth thoughtfully for a moment, a slightly worried frown furrowing his brow. “Is there any reason particular like, as you are interested? He seemed a respectable enough cove.”

  “No, no, I’m sure he was,” Lord Atherton reassured him, “but he was seen in the home wood so I wondered if perhaps he had business hereabouts.”

  Scorton nodded. “He probably wandered in on one of his walks, sir, that ‘ud explain it.”

  They rode slowly back up the lane towards the crossroads.

  “Are you satisfied with that explanation, George?” asked Sir Philip casually.

  Lord Atherton frowned. “It seems too much of a coincidence that a stranger should choose to stay in such an out-of-the-way place and at the same time the Jenkins’ place was set alight. And something about that face seems somehow familiar, but you were right, Philip, I am looking over my shoulder all the time and perhaps overly suspicious, but if Rutley is behind everything I wish he’d make his next move.”

  He was to get his wish sooner than he expected. As they turned into the lane that led towards Atherton house, he saw what was unmistakeably his curricle leaning at a drunken angle across the ditch that ran alongside the road.

  “What the devil has happened now?” he growled, spurring his horse into a gallop. Vaulting swiftly out of his saddle, he saw the vehicle was empty and his horses were sweating as they fretted in the traces. His eyes scanned the ditch and a low moan directed his gaze some way further along. Lord Preeve was sprawled at an awkward angle, one leg twisted beneath him. In a moment they were both beside him.

  “Overturned you, did she, John?” Sir Philip said softly, casting an experience eye over the leg and gently easing it out from under him. This caused Lord Preeve to let out an anguished cry.

  “I’m sorry, old fellow,” he murmured, “it’s almost certainly broken.”

  “S-so is my h-head,” groaned that unfortunate gentleman.

  “Yes, you must have hit it when you were thrown, nothing too serious I think,” Sir Philip soothed.

  “N-nothing t-too serious! It’s th-thumping l-like a d-drum and I c-can see t-two of you,” he moaned, closing his eyes again.

  Lord Atherton looked at his friend, a sharp, worried look in his eyes. “Where is Lady Rosalind?”

  “Probably gone to get help, George,” suggested Sir Philip.

  “Then why didn’t she take one of the horses?” he mused. “It would have been much faster. Besides, I can’t see her leaving John in that state or not calming the horses. Go and get help, Philip, I’ll stay with John and free the horses.”

  “Do you remember what happened, John?” he asked but was not surprised when he was answered only with a negative grunt.

  As his eyes ran over the curricle, he saw that the pole was broken, whether it had happened during or before the accident was not clear. However, when he returned to the house there was a note waiting for him.

  “It was found by one of the stable hands,” explained Sedgewick, “most irregular.”

  Quickly, he strode into his study and unfolded it, his mouth thinning into an angry grimace as he read. It was short and to the point; Lord Rutley had Lady Rosalind and if he wanted to ensure her continued wellbeing he would come to the lodge on the Hadley estate alone and prepared to play for high stakes.

  Sir Philip found him there a few moments later, he had seen his friend in many moods but never had he witnessed him looking quite as bleak as he did now. His eyes were quick to notice the scrunched up paper that protruded from one of his balled up fists.

  “Vaughen, my groom has had a look at the curricle, George, he is almost certain that pole was tampered with. Rutley?”

  Lord Atherton nodded and the bleak look disappeared as one of pure rage replaced it. He reached for the riding crop he had thrown onto the desk. “He has gone too far this time and he is going to be made to regret it. Out of my way, Philip,” he growled, crossing the room in two long strides.

  Sir Philip did not move out of his path, but put a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Gently now, my buck,” he said quietly. “Never go into action without a cool head; that way lies disaster. A clear plan of action is required if we are to bring this thing off neatly. I don’t think there will be any difficulty, from what I have seen, Rutley chooses his tools poorly. Sit down and open your budget.”

  Rosalind had been bowling along quite happily and was just about to slow down for the approaching bend, when a horse and cart had swept around it on her side of the road. The high stepping, well-bred pair attached to the curricle had shown their objection by rearing, the pole had snapped and the curricle tipped onto its side, flinging Lord Preeve out. Rosalind had been thrown onto his side of the seat, banging her head on the side of the curricle and had been momentarily stunned. Before she knew what was toward, she found herself being roughly manhandled out of the vehicle, a rough sack was thrown over her head and her hands tightly bound behind her. She then found herself deposited none too gently onto what she assumed was the floor of the offending cart and a rough voice warned her to keep her mummer shut or she would be knocked senseless. As her head
was already swimming and she felt quite sick, she had no difficulty in obeying these instructions. She only hoped that Lord Preeve had not been too seriously injured and would set up the call for help before they had gone very far.

  That the men who had abducted her shared this same fear soon became apparent, as judging by the way she was thrown about they were pushing the horse as hard as they dared. When they finally slowed down it was small comfort as they seemed to have turned onto a very rough track so that she was jolted about as if she were a sack of potatoes.

  She was ‘helped’ somewhat unceremoniously out of the cart and led up a small flight of mossy steps; a smell of damp pervaded whatever abode they had taken her to. At last they removed the rough sack from her head and she found herself in a dark shuttered room. A small fire flickered fitfully in the grate but barely took the deep chill out of the air. A small candelabra set out on a small side table gave out a little light, illuminating a threadbare rug and two chairs whose covers had seen far better days, the rest of the room was cast into shadow.

  “Here you are, guv’nor, the booty has been delivered as requested.”

  “So I see,” came a soft voice and a man stepped out of the shadows. “Any problems?”

  Although he addressed the rough-looking man who had brought her in, Rosalind felt herself stiffen as his cold eyes leisurely surveyed her from head to toe. She felt a shiver of fear snake down her spine as his repellent gaze stripped her naked.

  “Not to speak of, sir, the flash cove as was drivin’ with her took a tumble and was knocked unconscious but he was breathin’ when we left him.”

  Lord Rutley showed no interest in this news but carelessly threw a handful of coins at the man’s feet.

  “You have done very well, there will be more of that later when this business is finished. Now get outside and make sure that Atherton is alone when he arrives. If there is anyone with him, shoot ‘em!”

  The huge sense of relief she had felt at hearing Lord Atherton’s name mentioned, fled at these last words.

  Determined not to show her captor fear, a display of which she had no doubt he would enjoy, she put on her most haughty expression. “So now you are prepared to add murder to your other crimes, Lord Rutley?”

  He shrugged negligently. “I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.”

  “I hope very much that you will be!” she spat at him, her eyes blazing.

  The slender figure smiled and his green eyes glowed with a sudden interest. He stepped forward and ran one long white finger down the side of her face from her temple to the corner of her lips. “Oh so fiery, so passionate, perhaps I should have kept you to myself for at least one night before letting Atherton know where to find me.”

  His sibilant words made her tremble with revulsion and her hands, still tied behind her back, curled into fists. How she wished they were free so she could strike him across his smirking face.

  “Yes, now that I have seen you for myself, I think that would have been the ultimate punishment for the arrogant pup.”

  He turned away from her and she found she could breathe again. He wandered over to a table ranged in front of the shuttered window; she saw that it was laid with a bottle of wine, two glasses and a pack of cards. He poured himself a glass of wine.

  “Could you at least untie my hands? The rope is bound very tightly and is most uncomfortable or do you only threaten females when they are completely defenceless?” she asked, her voice scathing. If he would only untie her hands she might be able to escape.

  He raised his glass to her and insolently took a deep slug of wine. “Still so spirited. Therein lies the problem, my dear. Loath though I am to disappoint you it has come to my attention that you are a young lady of great resource and I wouldn’t want to encourage you to do anything rash.”

  He sat down in one of the chairs at the table and nodded in the direction of the fire. “Please sit down, I don’t wish you to be any more uncomfortable than necessary.”

  She gave a rather wild laugh. “And I suppose it was my comfort you were thinking of when you had me roughly manhandled, covered in a filthy sack and thrown into an even filthier cart?”

  “Crude, I admit,” he acknowledged, “but I had to think of a plan even those idiots couldn’t fumble. Now sit down.”

  He waited for her to comply before carrying on conversationally, “You’re not at all like your father, you know. He didn’t show any of your spirit, quite the broken man the last time I saw him.”

  Rosalind felt a cold rage fill her veins. “No, I am not much like him, though I believe you find yourself in a very similar position, but unlike him, I doubt very much you will take the honourable way out.”

  Lord Rutley shrugged, but a dull colour had crept into his cheeks. “I have never thought killing oneself is anything but foolhardy, where there is still life there is still a chance the luck may turn.”

  At that moment the sound of a door being pounded on was heard. Rosalind offered Lord Rutley a sour smile. “I think yours is about to, for the worse.”

  A hurried footstep in the hall sounded and then the door was flung open. Lord Atherton stood on the threshold for an instant, his hard stormy eyes scanning the room. Ignoring Lord Rutley completely, he strode swiftly over to Rosalind and dropped to one knee before her. He looked even grimmer as he took in the darkening bruise on her forehead and her bound hands.

  “I am so sorry, my child, do not worry, he will pay dearly for this!”

  She smiled shakily at him. “I think he is mad, my lord.”

  “No, just desperate,” he said softly.

  Rising, he turned swiftly towards Lord Rutley. “I take it you want your chance to redeem some of your losses to me in play?”

  “Just so, Atherton,” he agreed smoothly. “Although this time I thought we would see how lucky you are at cards.”

  “Did you really think it necessary to go to such extreme lengths?” he bit out, walking over to the table and giving the deck a cursory inspection.

  “But you are always so busy,” complained Lord Rutley softly. “I really did feel that I must get your attention.”

  “You have it, but I will not play you for any stakes until you agree to release Lady Rosalind from her bonds.”

  Lord Rutley nodded at the man who had followed Lord Atherton into the room. “Release her and then keep her covered.”

  “No!” Lord Atherton barked out. “You will not touch her! I will do it myself.” He made quite a show of having difficulty untying her bonds and used the time to quietly warn her to move quickly if anyone else came through the door or at a signal from him.

  Lord Rutley’s henchman retreated and withdrew a pistol which he kept trained on Rosalind.

  “One foolish move, Atherton, and I’m afraid Lady Rosalind will suffer.”

  He nodded briskly. “Let us get this over with, name your stakes.”

  Rosalind’s attention was distracted for a few moments as the blood rushed back into her hands, creating an excruciating pain. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, determined not to distract Lord Atherton with her distress.

  An intense silence descended on the room, only broken by the hissing of a log or the turn of a card. Rutley won the first few games and then leant back in his chair and gave his opponent a long look.

  “Careless, very careless, Atherton. This is no sport, you are throwing the games intentionally and I am not such a flat to be taken in so let us raise the stakes.

  Lady Rosalind will also suffer if I consider you are not playing your best.”

  “What do you hope to gain, Rutley?” queried Lord Atherton. “It is highly unlikely that you will win enough from me to reinstate your fortunes and you know that if you harm anyone close to me I will hunt you down, however long it takes and whatever it costs me.”

  “Ah, you don’t understand after all,” his opponent murmured. “It is all a game, my dear fellow, just a game. What is there to gain from this life but the pursuit of amusement to relieve th
e unutterable boredom the rules of society impose upon us? But I admit I hate you. You are an arrogant young pup, you have everything on your side; wealth, looks, infinite opportunities but I doubt very much you know what to do with them. I was you once, but the thought of getting leg-shackled to some broodmare to propagate the line and settle down to run my estates never appealed to me,” he drawled, his eyes flickering towards Rosalind.

  “If you didn’t wish to run your estates, why didn’t you employ someone with an eye for business to do it for you? You talk of opportunities and it is true there are many beyond even your estates, investments you could have made, ships or the canals for instance. But you have been too short-sighted and selfish. Do you care for anyone other than yourself?”

  Lord Rutley gave out a grating laugh. “Why should I? I will have to flee the country after tonight anyway but at least I will go knowing that I have had some sport. Your father was just like you, you know. Always looking down his long nose at those he considered inferior.”

  “We will leave my father out of this,” Lord Atherton snapped. “Do you want to play or talk?”

  The game continued. As far as Rosalind could tell, neither player had the upper hand for long; fortunes fluctuated fairly evenly between them for some time but then Lord Atherton started winning. The pile of coins and notes in front of him began to mount steadily. Lord Rutley was beginning to fidget, at one moment twitching his cravat, the next twisting his emerald ring around his thin finger. For a moment her vision blurred and it was another scene which swam before her.

  She was back outside the library window at Roehaven, her father reached into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief which he used to mop his sweating brow. Even though she was outside, she could feel his desperation. She could almost smell it. She could smell it now. It was coming from Lord Rutley, pouring off him in waves, like the ripples the stones she had cast into the lake had spread ever outwards until all became still and peaceful again. Grimacing, she realised it was extremely unlikely that there would be just such a peaceful ending to this encounter. Glancing up, she saw that the man who was supposed to be keeping her covered was watching the game, the gun hanging loosely in his hand. Straightening her spine, she sat up and refocussed her attention. Whatever Lord Atherton had planned, she would be ready.