Love in the Moonlight: A Regency Romance All Hallows' Eve Collection: 7 Delightful Regency Romance All Hallows' Eve Stories (Regency Collections Book 6)

by Arietta Richmond

  “Ruby laid hands on the bag but it was too late. Mister Hobson appeared in the doorway. His eyes were wild. He held a large pistol in front of him. Some of the kitchen maids screamed and ran, some into the servant’s dining room, others out the kitchen door into the garden. Ruby stood frozen, while the Countess seemed to crumple at the sight of His Lordship’s brother.

  “Ah, my dear sister,” he said “I expected such treachery from you,” he sneered. Then he looked at Ruby. “I will take the book now.” He motioned with the long barrel of his gun.

  “Sir,” Putnam said putting himself between Ruby and the man. “Do not –”

  “I am the Earl,” Mister Hobson roared. “Not her brat.” He gestured wildly at the Countess and shoved Putnam aside.

  “Do not be silly,” the Countess said, clinging to the sideboard and pulling volumes from the bag. “Miss Barnet was a dear girl, reading to me during my confinement. I have just told her she can have these books instead and she has agreed. “The Lady took out several volumes including, Celestina and Emmaline, showing her brother-in-law that she was only giving Ruby harmless novels. She left the large golden book at the bottom of the sack, but Mister Hobson was not fooled. He yanked the bag from the women’s hands and the Countess stumbled. Her hands went to her middle, protecting the child she carried and she had no way to stop her fall. Ruby tried to catch her, but ended up on the floor as well, in a gush of water that Ruby realized meant that the baby was coming. The Countess bent over gasping in pain. How long had the Countess been in labor? Ruby wondered.

  In that moment of confusion, Putnam dove for the gun, shoving the Earl’s brother into the sideboard, regardless of the fact that he could be jailed for so accosting a member of the gentry. Potatoes scattered, rolling across the floor, and there was a momentary struggle for the weapon. The pistol fired upwards, putting a single shot into the ceiling, and the women peeking around door to the kitchen screamed and scattered, while the Earl’s brother scrambled on the wet floor for the sack with the book.

  Ruby crawled toward the thing and snatched it up and tossed it, bag and all into the cook fire.

  There was a moment when it hit the flames and sizzled, that Ruby wanted to dive after it, to save it, so badly that it struck though her like a physical pain. Then the book exploded with a rain of fire. To Ruby, everything seemed far away, in a tunnel of hazy brightness and noise, the book whispering to her and then screaming. The confusion of the kitchen and the flames melded into one. Ruby held onto the Countess’ hand and prayed to let it pass. Let it burn.

  It will be hard; the Earl had said. It will be hard to resist the temptation of power and money, but she held onto the Countess, no, her friend, and her friend held on to her, while the blaze burned in the hearth and in her mind.

  Putnam tried to stop the Earl’s brother from flinging himself into the flames after the book, and lacking another shot, Mister Hobson struck Putnam in the face with the pistol. His handsome face was bruised and starting to swell, and Mister Hobson was screaming as he dug through the hot coals with his bare hands, trying to retrieve the book.

  Whether it was the gunshot that had deafened her or the explosion itself, Ruby was not sure. She realized that Putnam was shouting something at her. There was blood on his mouth, and she couldn’t stop staring at it. Someone was crying. She realised that it was her. Something was sticky underfoot. Ruby wondered for a moment, if someone, trying to put out the fire had spilled a pot of water and then she remembered the Countess. Ruby came back to herself and realized that the Countess was crying as well. Her water had broken. She was in labor.

  Ruby tried to pull in a breath to tell someone, and coughed. Already the smoke was thick. Fire was everywhere and the air was hot. She struggled to pull in a breath. Putnam scooped her up, and tried to tuck her face against his chest, but she yelled in his ear. The sound came out in a croak and a cough.

  “I can walk. Help the Countess.” But Putnam did not put her down. The butler had come back for the Countess, and when he could not get her to stand, he picked her up and carried her too.

  Once outside, Ruby, still coughing, tried to take stock, to see who had made it out of the fire and who had not.

  The solicitor had left just before the fire started. None of the stable lads were hurt, nor the upstairs maids. Missus McTavish got out, herding a bevy of weeping kitchen girls, but Ruby did not see the cook, nor one of the footmen. The other was holding a sobbing maid and patting her back. She did not see the Earl’s brother.

  Ruby squeezed her arms tight around Putnam and then said, “Put me down. I can walk.”

  He whispered back, “I don’t want to put you down.” And for a moment they just held one another, revelling in the fact that they were safe and the book was destroyed. Then Ruby thought of the Countess.

  The butler had sent one of the stable boys running ahead to the midwife. It seemed that he realised that the new master of the house was anxious to be born. The old butler was not strong enough to carry her as far as the midwife’s cottage, but Putnam was. She told him so.

  Putnam took the Countess in his arms and carried her to the midwife’s cottage, with Ruby at his side, while the others attempted to save the manor.

  Once Missus McTavish realized that the Countess was safe from the flames, she took charge of the current situation, sending men to the stable for buckets of water to try to put out the fire. She lined the men up for the full buckets and the women for the empty ones.

  “The Earl’s brother?” Ruby asked as they hurried along.

  Putnam shook his head.

  “He would not leave the kitchen,” he said. “I tried to save him. I tried.”

  “No one could save him,” the Countess said between moans of pain, but you, Miss Barnet, have saved the rest of us.

  Chapter Ten

  Once the Countess was brought to the midwife, Putnam decided he should return to try to help put out the fire. Ruby stayed with the Lady, holding her hand and trying to comfort her. The Countess was safely delivered of a son, Benedict Edward Hobson, the new Earl of Bain.

  Most of the staff spent the night at the parsonage, but Ruby stayed the night with the Countess and the midwife. Then took an early morning nap, and called it a night’s sleep. The next morning, Ruby walked back up to the Manor to see the extent of the damage. Most of the east wing had burned. It still smouldered, and she was told that there had been a second fire in the bedchamber where His Lordship’s body had lain.

  Ruby sucked in her breath and said a prayer for his soul. Putnam was with the others at the manor. They had worked side by side all day, clearing the wreckage. The west wing of the manor was inhabitable, but most of the east was burned. At the end of the day, Ruby and Putnam decided to return to the Countess at the midwife’s cottage and tell her the condition of the manor.

  “It was kind of you to spend the whole day helping,” Ruby said to Putnam.

  “I’ve asked for my old job back,” he said. “And butler has been kind enough to offer it to me.”

  “But I thought you were a man of property now.”

  He shook his head.

  “The cottage burned too… at the same time as the manor. The men from the village that came to help at the manor informed me. What are the chances of something like that happening?”

  A chill went down her spine and she stopped walking. She realized how close she had come to being taken in by the book. If she had accepted Putnam’s proposal and not committed to her vow to burn the book, what would have happened? Would she and Putnam be ensnared in the same web that the Earl had found himself trapped in? She was glad that it was over. She was free. She said a silent prayer to thank God.

  She gave Putnam a side-long glance.

  “So you have nothing?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “It all burned with the manor.”

  They walked for a bit longer and, right before they went into the midwife’s cottage, she turned to Putnam. She looked up into his eyes.

 
“Yes,” she said.

  He stopped and frowned, confused.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes. I will marry you,” she said. “If you want to run away to Gretna Green and get married tomorrow, I will do it. You are strong and brave and true, and I do not think that I need anything more than that.”

  He picked her up and spun her around as the midwife opened the door.

  “Well, you two look awfully happy for just losing everything,” the midwife said.

  They just grinned at her.

  They sat for a while with the Countess, who was also in remarkably good spirits. Ruby held the baby and felt very motherly herself. They told the Countess about the strange second fire that had consumed her room and the seemingly unrelated fire at Putnam’s cottage.

  “The Earl thought that would happen,” she said. “He thought that everything associated with the book would burn. That is why I could not bring myself to throw the book in the fire while he lived. He thought he would burn.” The Countess got very quiet and melancholy and Ruby laid a hand on hers. “We must trust in the Lord’s mercy,” she said, and the Countess nodded.

  At last, Putnam said that he would walk Ruby back to the manor, if she wanted to stay in the west wing tonight. He planned to go to the parsonage temporarily with many of the other servants.

  “Oh, no,” the Countess said. “The Earl had another part of the will written for Miss Barnet once the book was destroyed. The cottage by the rocky shore is yours, and yours too, I suppose,” she said to Putnam. “You know she loves you. It tore out her heart to keep a secret from you.”

  Putnam grinned at the Countess.

  “I love her as well, Milady” he said. “We to be married, just as soon as we are able.”

  “So Gretna Green?” Ruby asked.

  “My dear, why on earth should we travel so far when at least half of the people we know are still staying at the parsonage right here? I think we should be married on the morrow.”

  “But there are banns to think of, and…”

  “Miss Barnet, are you prevaricating again?”

  “I am not. Certainly not. Tomorrow it is.” And Putnam kissed Ruby, right there in front of The Countess, but she, and the midwife, politely turned their heads.

  The End

  Continue reading after the ‘About the Author’ section for a SNEAK PEEK of the story of Miss Georgette Quinby in

  The Mad Heiress and the Duke ~ Georgette Quinby

  About the Author

  Isabella Thorne is an author of Regency and Georgian Romance. The first grown-up books she read were historical, authored by Georgette Heyer, Victoria Holt and Anna Seton. Unfortunately, for her own daughters, the beauty and hallmark of Regency Romance, witty dialogue and the manners of the time, have been over-shadowed by explicit books instead of true Regency Romance.

  With a return to romance, Isabella Thorne hopes you will enjoy her light, fun books. You can share them with your daughters with the guarantee that, although there is romance aplenty, and a bit of sexual tension and a kiss, there is nothing explicit in her books.

  They are clean and wholesome reads with lots of humour and upbeat "fun poking" at the English mannerisms of the time.

  Because Isabella loves the pageantry of the period, she loves to include true events or set stories during a war -- the English were involved in so many of them at this time! You will find bits of history scattered through the books and an occasional historical figure, but these books are FICTION and not intended to be a definitive history.

  None of the Peerage mentioned in them, of any land, actually existed. Isabella hopes that all the British and the die-hard historical readers will please forgive this passionate American if she makes any mistakes, and, if you find one, send an email off to isabellathorne58@yahoo.com so that she can make corrections.

  If you love her books, PLEASE REVIEW and SHARE, so that others can come to love them too! Share or comment on an Isabella Thorne Facebook post for a chance to WIN an AMAZON GIFT CARD

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  Other Books by Isabella Thorne

  The Duke's Wicked Wager Series

  Promise Me a Handful of Horses

  Promise Me Daring

  Promise Me This Dance

  Promise Me Your Heart

  Mischief, Mayhem and Murder: A Marquis of Evermont Regency Romance

  The Georgette Quinby Series

  The Mad Heiress Meets the Duke

  The Mad Heiress and the Search for a Spy

  The Mad Heiress Visits Vauxhall

  The Mad Heiress and the Rose Room Rout

  The Mad Heiress' Cousin and the Hunt

  Colonial Cressida and the Secret Duke

  Mistletoe and Masquerade.

  Just One Christmas Kiss

  New Year’s Masquerade

  The Music of Love: Fate’s Design

  Book 1 in The Amelia Atherton Series - The Music of Love (*4 BOOK BOX SET*)

  Here is Your Preview of

  The Mad Heiress and the Duke

  ~ Part 1 ~

  The Mad Heiress Meets the Duke

  Regency Romance

  Isabella Thorne

  Chapter One

  Georgette had escaped to the garden. Even in winter, the green and growing things gave her comfort. She breathed slowly through her nose. Her breath puffed out like a little cloud. No doubt the tongues would be wagging. The ton would think her even crazier than normal to come out here in the cold, but she needed a moment, just a moment to herself, in the cold winter air. Some time to gather her wits about her, to take some deep breaths. To remember who she was and how it had once been; how she had once been so blindingly happy, and then to remember how it was now. Breathe, she told herself as she pressed her gloved hands together over her stomacher. In. Out. Well, in as far as her corset allowed and then out.

  The ballroom had been stifling. An absolute crush, packed with bodies and warring perfumes. And all of them turning their catty faces to her; looking at her with distain. She couldn’t bear it for one moment longer.

  "Look, it's the Mad Heiress," one of the young ladies had said, tittering like a ninny.

  "Is it really? I thought she'd killed herself." Her friend fanned herself as she looked slyly over the accessory at Georgette.

  "No, you were misinformed," another said, craning her bejewelled neck. "I heard she flung herself off a parapet, after Lord Falks threw her over for Lady Judith."

  "I heard it was a cliff," the first one said.

  "I'm certain it was a parapet. But no matter. The point is, she survived."

  “Poor thing. I’d rather be dead,” said the first woman fanning herself quite vigorously.

  "It was stairs," Georgette had said to the open air, once she had fled to the garden. "Stairs. If one must gossip, at the very least one should get the facts straight. I flung myself down some stairs."

  She should probably stop talking to herself, she thought. She was already known as the Mad Heiress, and she hadn't done anything exciting for almost ten years. Lud, if the ton heard her grumbling to herself about stairs she would never rest in peace.

  But honestly -a cliff? If it had been a cliff, she might have had some success. Instead, she had woken up in her bed, a few days later, with a sore head and a broken hip, like an old woman. And a fiancé who did not love her. She must not forget that.

  Oh, Sebastien. Why?

  Ten years ago, she had been slipping out of ballrooms to meet him in the garden, the stolen kisses sweet on her lips: Escaping the candlelight and the weak punch and her stifling mother, hoping for a stolen moment with her beloved.

  Ten years,
and no one forgot. No one ever forgot. She clenched her fists. She would forever be the Mad Heiress. No matter that she had been but seventeen when Sebastien had informed her that his heart belonged to another. No matter that she was twenty-six-years old now, and a chaperone, a spinster, firmly on the shelf. No matter that she could not conceive of the sensibility and passion that had driven her up those stairs. She could not remember, but everyone else still remembered.

  Deep breaths, she reminded herself as she rubbed her gloved hands over her cooling arms. Breathe in, breathe out. Or, rather, breathe in as deeply as one's corset allows, and breathe out. In, and out, through the nose.

  Georgette froze. She sniffed the air. Someone was smoking a cigar.

  Oh, bother.

  She swallowed. Perhaps the gentleman would not realize she'd entered the gardens. She could surreptitiously sneak back into the ballroom. She made to turn back into the house.

  He stood right in front of her. Grey flecked through his hair. She knew his eyes were dark blue, but the darkness of the gardens made them almost black. He peered at her with them, over a royal, aquiline nose.

  The Duke of Eversley.

  Continue reading about Miss Georgette Quinby and The Duke of Eversley in

  The Mad Heiress and the Duke~ Georgette Quinby

  *A Regency Romance Novel in 4 Parts*

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