“Thank you, Officer. Is your captain on the bridge?”
“Aye, aye. Captain Harold Summers. Good hunting.”
Relieved that all his guesses had been on the money, Ernest headed for the bridge. Captain Summers wasn’t known to him, but fortunately the man had heard of the lucky Captain Saunders of the Second Battle of Sacket’s Harbor, where he’d taken two prizes.
“Don’t want a murderer on my ship,” the stout captain said after Ernest had explained his needs.
Opening the box that sat convenient to his captain’s chair, he pulled out a musket. “Let’s go get this scallawag!”
Following the captain through the warren of decks and stairways, he arrived at the stern. He didn’t have to walk far before he spied his quarry leaning on the rail, taking in what he thought was his last view of England.
He nodded to the captain, pointing out Boxer.
“In the name of the Prince Regent, I arrest you for the murder of …”
“Captain Joseph Abernathy,” said Ernest. “And Mr. Arnold Simpson.”
Whirling around, the little man tried to run, but Ernest tripped him, and he fell to the deck. Captain Summers aimed his musket at the fellow.
“Now, we don’t want any trouble, so unless you want your leg blown off, you’ll come with Captain Saunders here.”
Ernest lifted him up by the arm. “No doubt, when you are swinging on the gibbet, you will reflect that if you hadn’t gotten so greedy, you never would have been caught. Captain Abernathy may have been a scoundrel in the end, but once he was a friend of mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The days were long and dull at Heyford Abbey. Marianne did not have her horses there. However, she did have Bertie’s rose garden, which was originally planted by her mama, and which she had added to during the years she had lived at Heyford Abbey between Ian’s death and Bertie’s marriage.
She weeded and mulched and trimmed, bringing new blooms into the house each day. However, there was no one to appreciate them but Gweet and herself.
After she finished reading the marvelous memoirs the captain had given her, she began reading them all over again. She and Gweet began a list, planning all the sights they wanted to see in Florence.
She endeavored for perhaps the hundredth time to teach Gweet to embroider, but as usual, gave up on the attempt. Her daughter simply had not the heart for it. She enjoyed the dogs and would far rather be playing outside, arranging and rearranging her possessions in the fort her uncle had made for her out of the old gardener’s shed.
Marianne missed the captain dreadfully. If anything, this should have convinced her that loving a sea captain was a punishing existence, but it had the opposite effect. How could she send the man off to sea without at least having the hope that he would return to her?
When she received a letter from him, she became giddy as a girl, reading it over and over again.
Wellingham House
London, England
My dear Lady Deveridge,
You are now officially safe. I am glad you are at Bertie’s, but you may return to your own home at any time.
Can you guess who your assailant was? I must own I was very surprised to discover it was Billy Boxer, the jockey who took the place of the colleague he murdered, Arnold Simpson. He was allied with the man whom I thought to be my friend, Captain Abernathy.
I will give you the details when I see you. Suffice it to say Boxer was envious of Simpson’s position as Virginia’s Prize’s jockey, and Abernathy was greedy.
I must stay in Epsom Downs where the case against Boxer will be tried shortly at the Surrey Assizes—two counts of murder, kidnapping, and horse drugging. Without a doubt, he will hang.
When all this business is over, I will come to Bucks, bringing Penelope with me as duenna (so all proprieties will be observed). I long to see you. You have been much in my thoughts.
I have a plan I should like to discuss with you. I am in hopes that it will make you as happy as it would make me.
Very truly yours,
S.
The news of Boxer’s capture was a tremendous relief. Marianne realized that, underneath her daily routine, she had still been on guard lest the villain should somehow find her at Bertie’s.
With Mrs. Collins’s help, she soon had Bertie’s house put back to rights and ready for his return. Foster packed their portmanteaux, and Marianne and Gweet prepared for the journey back home. She was exceedingly glad she had not been called upon to face Boxer on her own, as she had reason to know he was a very nasty character indeed.
How long would the trial take? When could she expect to see Penny and the captain? She longed not only to hear the story of Boxer’s capture but also (and most especially, if she were honest) whatever plan the captain had concocted.
Is it another plan for his sailors’ charity? Or is it more personal?
Marianne had to admit she was beside herself with impatience.
*
The charity masquerade ball was a week away, and Gweet and Marianne were preparing to go down to London to help Miss Braithwaite and Lady Clarice with the preparations, when she heard the clatter of a carriage. Orcutt’s announcement that her long-awaited visitor had arrived sent Marianne’s heart skipping up to her throat.
The moment, shortly before tea, when Captain Saunders entered the sitting room was a time Marianne was never to forget. Striding into the room ahead of Penelope, he walked straight to her, lifted her from the sofa, and, clutching her to his chest, swung her around three times. His face was lit with a glow she had never seen, making him so handsome she could scarcely bear it.
Penelope entered and laughed. “Ernest! Put her down this instant!”
Gweet said, “Captain! You are supposed to marry me!”
“My dear Lady Deveridge, can I persuade you to postpone tea and take a walk with me in the rose garden?”
“Now?” she asked, unable to quell a broad smile.
“Of course, now! I have been awaiting this reunion these three weeks!”
Putting her arm through the captain’s, she allowed him to lead her through the french doors out into the rose garden. Though they were in full view of the sitting room, Marianne fervently hoped the man would kiss her again.
He led her to the bench which sat under the rose trellis. “I know how much my occupation as a sea captain has troubled you and acted as a barrier to your feelings. I therefore have a proposition to make.” He paused.
“Yes?” she prompted.
“How would you feel if I were to become captain of my very own ship—that is to say, a large yacht?”
“A yacht? A large yacht?” she repeated.
“Yes. I would resign from the navy, and we would be free to sail together with our family to all those destinations you have most ardently desired to visit.”
Stunned, she repeated, “Our family?”
“Gweet, Warrie, and whatever other children we may produce.” “You would give up the navy?” She still could not comprehend the life-changing magnitude of what he was proposing. “You realize, of course, that what you propose means we must get married?”
“Oh, yes. Did I forget to ask? Would you do me the honor of marrying me, my dearest Lady Deveridge? Or do I presume too much?”
“You always do. But in this case, I am inclined to overlook it.”
“So, you look upon my suit with favor?”
“I do.” Putting her hands about the back of his neck, she pulled him down for a quick kiss. “I should be honored. Now you have only to make things up with Gweet.”
“I hope she will be convinced that I will make her a fine papa.”
“Gweet is very stubborn. Fortunately, I do not think she has heard of a breach of promise suit. Shall we really go to Florence?”
“We shall.”
Only one thing still marred the perfection of her happiness. “We can’t be at sea all the time. What do you propose to do to keep from getting bored when we are ashore?”
/>
“I have been thinking of it. I believe I will build us a house midway between this one and your brother’s. Its location will be determined by the availability of another large house nearby that we can convert into a retired sailors’ home. View it as another arm of my plan for unemployed sailors.”
“That sounds splendid, but you cannot house every unemployed sailor in the kingdom!”
“I know. But I can make a start, at least. Perhaps I can convince other naval officers to do the same with some of their prize money.”
She placed her head on his chest and encircled him with her arms. “I don’t believe you have left any particular of my happiness unmet. I shall marry you and love you dearly all my days.”
“That is not enough for me,” he said. “We must find a way to love each other beyond the grave. It is the only thing that will satisfy.”
Reaching down, he raised her chin and began kissing her. She supposed she should tell him to stop, for she was like to die that very moment from such happiness.
Epilogue
From the July 22, 1816 edition of the Morning Post:
Nuptials were performed today for Lady Marianne Hazelton, Viscountess Deveridge (née Backman), sister of Sir Herbert Backman, and Captain Ernest Saunders, brother of Viscount Wellingham. The ceremony was held in the chapel at Somerset Vale, the ancestral home of the Wellinghams. In attendance were close friends and family, including Sir Herbert Backman and Lady Catherine Backman (née Redmayne), Lord Warren Hazelton, Viscount Deveridge, the Honorable Marguerite Hazelton, Viscount and Viscountess Wellingham, the Honorable Arabella Saunders, Viscount and Viscountess Strangeways, the Honorable Howard Gibson, and Commander Hugh Darvish.
The couple will honeymoon in Florence, Italy.
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Other Books by G.G. Vandagriff
Regency Romance
Not an Ordinary Baronet
His Mysterious Lady
Her Fateful Debut
*
Lord John’s Dilemma
Lord Grenville’s Choice
Lord Basingstoke’s Downfall (novella)
*
The Duke’s Undoing
The Taming of Lady Kate
Miss Braithwaite’s Secret
Rescuing Rosalind
Lord Trowbridge’s Angel
The Baron and the Bluestocking
*
Much Ado about Lavender (novella)
Spring in Hyde Park (anthology)
Historical Novels
The Last Waltz
Exile
Defiance
Women’s Fiction
The Only Way to Paradise
Pieces of Paris
Genealogical Mysteries
Cankered Roots
Of Deadly Descent
Tangled Roots
Poisoned Pedigree
The Hidden Branch
Suspense
The Arthurian Omen
NonFiction
Deliverance from Depression
Voices In Your Blood
About the Author
G. G. Vandagriff is a traditionally published author who has recently gone indie. She loves the Regency period, having read Georgette Heyer over and over since she was a teen. G. G. is already at work on her third Regency romance, Miss Braithwaite’s Secret. She also has a great many fans of her earlier books, particularly the award-winning The Last Waltz and The Only Way to Paradise, who are anxious to read sequels! And her mystery fans are always urging her to write another book featuring her wacky genealogical sleuths, Alex and Briggie.
Obviously, G. G. likes to genre hop! In addition to her fiction, she has written two nonfiction works. She also writes a twice-monthly column for the on-line magazine Meridian as well as being a guest columnist for the Deseret News.
She studied writing at Stanford University and received her master’s degree at George Washington University. Though she has lived many places throughout the country, she now lives with her husband, David, a lawyer and a writer, on the bench of the Wasatch Mountains in Utah. From her office she can see a beautiful valley, a lake, and another mountain range. She and David have three grown children and three delightful grandsons.
After playing with, reading to, and doing crafts with her grandchildren, her favorite pastime thing is traveling with her husband. She goes to Italy once a year for medicinal purposes (and research—read The Only Way to Paradise). She has recently added Istanbul and Barcelona to her list of favorite places. G.G.’s favorite classic authors are Tolstoy, Charlotte Bronte, and Jane Austen. Her favorite contemporary authors are A. S. Byatt, John Fowles, Marisa de los Santos, Emily Giffin, and Candice Hern.
Visit G.G. at her website http://ggvandagriff.com, where you can see pictures of her travels, read excerpts of her books, and sign up to receive her newsletter. You can also read her blog,ggvandagriff.com/blog, and sign up to follow. She has an author page on Facebook (G.G. Vandagriff-Author) and on Goodreads and Amazon. She loves to hear from her fans!
Copyright © 2018 G.G. Vandagriff
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Orson Whitney Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual person living or dead is entirely coincidental.
The Orson Whitney Press
Love Unexpected_A Regency Romance Page 16
