The Hazardous Gamble of the Alluring Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hamilton, Hanna

  “That does not entirely comfort me, Your Grace,” Dahlia protested. “What if you should come to harm as well? I do not think I could bear to lose you as well as my brother.”

  “Does that mean that you have some regard for me?” Roger had that odd look on his face again, the one that Dahlia had yet to identify.

  “A great deal of regard,” Dahlia said. “What other gentleman would have so readily supported me through this madness?” She clung to his lapel for a moment. “Please, Roger, do not get yourself hurt. I do not think I could bear it.”

  Lisa slipped quietly out of the room, but neither of them noticed. Dahlia tipped her face up to Roger, and he bent down to kiss her. It was a gentle kiss at first, one meant to sooth and sympathize. But Dahlia returned it with enthusiasm, stretching up to touch her lips to his. Feelings awoke within her, such as she had never felt before. It seemed as if she was melting inside, and the thought of letting him go back out to take up the search and to ride into possible danger was almost unbearable.

  Roger broke the kiss first. “Ah, Dahlia,” he whispered, “my sunshine goddess, I will find your brother and I will bring him home. But you tempt me to run away with you and let the rest of the world go hang.”

  “Please be careful, Roger,” she said. “I want my brother back, but not at the cost of losing you.”

  “We have seen nothing of Goldstone since I sent him home, and I have little to fear from him, I think. No doubt, his intent is to sail from here to France and then perhaps to flee even farther. Come now, have you eaten?”

  “Oh, my,” Dahlia exclaimed, “I should have thought. Let us ring for a light luncheon, and I will join you before you return to the search.”

  And I shall pray for both my love and my brother to come home safely to me.

  Chapter 34

  Aaron came to himself in darkness. Somewhere water was dripping, and there was the distant sound of the ocean. His arms were no longer bound. Except for a throbbing pain in his skull, he did not hurt anywhere. He groaned with the ache of it.

  “Shhhh, shhhh,” a woman’s voice said. “Don’t draw their attention. I’ve slipped you away from them. If we are lucky, we can get you out of here.”

  Aaron whispered harshly, his throat raw and dry, “Where is here?”

  “Old Fortress Island, not far from where they buried the French. I think our captor means for us to be buried there soon, as well.”

  “So why haven’t you gone?” Aaron asked softly.

  “They broke the bones in my feet, and I cannot run. I can show you the way, as I have done for others. Shhh, now. Too much talking.” The woman patted his arm, and then tugged at him.

  Aaron followed the woman on hands and knees over what seemed to be a brick floor. The floor seemed to slope downward, and the passage was barely high enough for him to crawl through it. After a time they came to a grate. The metal bars hurt his hands and knees, but the woman seemed to have no trouble getting across them, so he followed her frequent pats.

  On the other side of the grate, was a set of steps. Here Aaron could see daylight above them, and a splash of light shown on his companion. She was a small woman, slender to the point of emaciation, and definitely not in her first youth. She had a fine, patrician nose and high cheekbones. Her eyes were too shadowed for him to make out the color.

  The rags she wore were grimy and bedraggled. Her hair hung in long strands about her face. It looked as if it had been hacked off short at one point, or perhaps shaven from her head and was now growing back in.

  “From the top of these steps,” she said, “You can see the water. You must wait for nightfall because they patrol these walls with arbalests and long-bows, as well as the gun batteries.

  “What are they doing here?” Aaron asked. “Why am I here?”

  “As to why you are here, I do not know,” the woman said. “But what they plan is an overthrow of the Whigs, and reinstatement of Bonaparte in France. They chose this island as a base because here is near where Bonaparte loyalists were executed and buried. Revenge is no small part of what is going on.”

  “When darkness falls, we shall both get out of here,” Aaron said.

  “How?” the woman asked. “I cannot run, and even if my feet would work properly, I am weak from starvation. I will only slow you down.”

  “Is there anyone else that you are protecting?” Aaron inquired.

  “No, not anymore.” The woman shook her head. “He died long ago, and I slipped away into the sewers. I’ve been hiding ever since. They know I am down here. They call me the mouse in the walls.”

  “I can’t imagine hiding down there for even more than a day,” Aaron shuddered. “How long?”

  “A season, maybe two?” the woman shook her head. “Our ship was taken not long after Napoleon was captured, and the war ended.”

  “Do you swim?” Aaron asked.

  “No,” the woman replied. “How would I have learned? Gentlewomen are not seen without decent covering.”

  Aaron flashed on a brief memory of slipping away from Cottleroy Manor when he and his oldest sister were young. There had been a great commotion when they were discovered – he in his small clothes, and his sister in her chemise, both dripping wet from playing in the brook. “Fair enough. I can swim for us both,” he said, “but we shall have to wait for nightfall.”

  As they waited, they saw a triangular sail go by, then tack, come about and sail past again. Twice more that day, they saw the small sailing ship go by. “Do they patrol these waters?” Aaron wanted to know.

  “I don’t know,” the woman said. “They might, but I’ve not seen that ship before, and it doesn’t carry the right flag.”

  Point of fact, the ship carried no flag at all, which was somewhat suspicious. But it could be someone just out to enjoy the weather or trying to catch a few fish.

  Aaron’s stomach growled, and the woman offered him a share of some grimy substance that she had stashed there. It looked as if it might have been bread at one time, or perhaps a biscuit. He shook his head. He was hungry, but not hungry enough to eat the morsel. After a time, he ceased to notice his hunger, focusing only on the slow march of the sun across the sky. Occasionally the small boat with the sail would come within their view and then vanish again.

  “Here is what we will do,” Aaron said. “I will carry you over my shoulder into the water. Once we are there, you can float and I will tow you. All you will need to do is to relax and trust me.”

  The woman gave a delicate short of derision. “Young man, that sounds like something my late husband would have said. And look where that got us.”

  “Clearly, nowhere good.” Aaron smiled. “But I shall try to do better. I could scarcely do worse. I cannot countenance leaving you here since you have shown me a way out.”

  “I will own,” she admitted, “I’d as lief be gone from here. I used to send out things in the hope that someone would find them. I tied a scrap of my dress to my late husband’s boot and set it adrift some days ago. It was my last relic from him. They took our rings and taunted us that they had melted them down to send to Napoleon.”

  “To Napoleon? Are you sure?” Aaron asked.

  “As sure as I am of anything. I think I might be a little mad. Sometimes I dream of hot baths and cooked food served on a plate.” She found a patch of sun that had made its way into the stairwell and stretched her hands to it. “I remember walking in the gardens, watching my sons play. The older one took ill, just before his majority, and the younger was a soldier. We were sailing to meet with him in Paris.”

  Something connected in Aaron’s memory. “Just who are you?”

  “We have no names here,” she said. “If there are no names, they cannot find our families.”

  “There are more?” Aaron stared at her, aghast.

  “Were more. I’m the only one left. I have no idea what he wants, but I cannot think it to be good. He has gone to such great lengths to keep us here.” She sounded hollow, like someone from whom e
verything has been taken.

  “How have you survived?” Aaron considered her in wonder.

  “Carefully. And because sometimes I can help someone escape. That way, he doesn’t win.”

  “Who is he?” Aaron asked.

  “No names, remember? What you don’t know can’t be taken from this place and the dear ones required to pay the price.” She moved her hands restlessly in the folds of her rags, as if they were a fine dress. Probably had been a fine dress once.

  The sun dipped lower, and finally sank away to the west. When only the last glimmers were on the waves she said, “It is time now.”

  Aaron reached down to her, and standing, he pulled her up and over his shoulder.

  “You can’t,” she said.

  “I’m not leaving you,” he said. “I don’t know how many people escaped and left you here, but I’ll not be one more.”

  “I’m too heavy,” she protested.

  “Not a bit of it. You don’t even weigh as much as a sack of grain.” The sun slipped below the edge of the sea, and Aaron put her over his shoulder and began to run.

  An arrow flew past them, then another. The woman cried out once, but Aaron didn’t stop, just pushed for a little more speed. Then he splashed into the sea with his burden.

  Now what? He towed his companion out into the sea.

  Chapter 35

  Roger kissed Dahlia just before stepping out into the late afternoon sunshine. It would have been so pleasant to stay with her. He could still feel the warmth of her body as she had nestled beside him. But while her brother was missing, every moment spent with her could be the moment needed to save the life of someone dear to her.

  One of the sloops had found something odd drifting in the water not far from the mouth of the Thames. It had come to dock, and was waiting for him. He kissed her once more, savoring the light, supple feel of her in his arms, then he turned and hurried down the steps.

  He mounted his horse and glanced up. She was at the door, watching. She waved, and then went inside. He turned his horse and headed for the Thames.

  Major Tomlinson and Sir Geoffrey Carter were waiting for him at the docks. Roger gave his horse into the keeping of a nearby stableman and hastened toward them. “You have something?”

  “We do,” Major Tomlinson said, “this was found on the north side of the estuary this morning.” He held out a riding boot that had a rag of silk tied about it. “Fisherman brought it to me, thinking someone might have drowned. Does it look familiar?”

  “I am not sure,” Roger furrowed his brow in thought. “I will confess that I have paid far more attention to Lord Bochil’s sister than to Lord Bochil But, this boot seems too old to have belonged to Aaron. And why is a rag of silk tied about it?”

  “Perhaps it is a signal of some sort?” Sir Geoffrey suggested. “You know we often saw odd signs planted about during the war.”

  The Major nodded. “It is an old poachers’ trick as well, to leave the odd bit of this or that about to mark an area.”

  “But what could they have been marking?” Roger commented thoughtfully.

  “That is the question, is it not?” said the Major. “The other question is whether this is Lord Bochil’s boot or one belonging to some other unfortunate. However, the captain of this sloop tells me that the tide is coming in and that he will be able to sail about among the small islands at the mouth of the Thames. As evening comes on, we might well be able to see more than is visible now.”

  “I have heard that there are some very odd folk living on those islands,” Sir Geoffrey said.

  “Odd how?” Roger asked.

  “Odd to the point of being unfriendly. The Watch has not caught them at it, but arrows have been shot at people pulling up on certain beaches. Yet when people look for the source, no one is to be seen.”

  “There could be a connection, I suppose,” Roger said. “But I’m not sure that it will lead us to Lord Bochil. Still, it cannot hurt to take a look since we have no other information. Except that one report of having seen a man bound and bundled aboard a ship just as the tide went out.”

  The Major nodded. “The plan is to sail around to where the fisherman found the boot and to see what there is to be seen. There is a chance that we might find something, and since our information is slim indeed, at least this gives us an idea of where we might look.”

  “After all,” Sir Geoffrey added, “it is better than sitting about on shore hoping that someone will see something.”

  With that, the gentlemen boarded the sloop, and it turned about and drifted down river with the tide.

  * * *

  Dahlia watched the Duke mount and prepare to ride away. She was torn with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she was grateful that her betrothed would take so much trouble to look for a missing brother, yet she was also anxious for Roger’s safety.

  It had been clear that Goldstone had no good will toward Roger. She was terrified that something horrible had happened to Aaron. In spite of the report that someone had seen him being bundled on board a ship, she could not help but worry that he had been caught in the flaming debris or flung into the Thames.

  As she turned back into the house, Dahlia noticed that Mrs. Garrity was watching her. “Come, my dear,” she said kindly, “It will not do to fall into the doldrums. Let us go rummage out another one of those linen cupboards, shall we?”

  Dahlia gave a nervous laugh. “It does not seem quite the thing to calmly go rummage out a linen closet when both my brother and my soon to be husband could well be in danger.”

  “On the contrary,” Mrs. Garrity said firmly, “this is the best of times to rummage out closets. One can hardly do it in the midst of a party or a round of morning visits. We now have nothing but time on our hands, and it will not do to fret. We might as well do something useful.”

  “Useful,” Dahlia shook her head, “just what I was not raised to be.”

  “No time like the present to make amends. Come, come, Lady Dahlia. Would you rather simply sit around and brood?”

  “Well, when you put it like that, no, I really would not.”

  “Then let us collect Betsy and one or two of the other maids and go see what can be done about those moth-eaten linens.”

  Dahlia found this expedition to the attics to be a great deal different from the one when she had been pretending to be a maid. Betsy carried up mops and brooms, while an older maid hauled two large pails of water, one hot, one cold. In a very few minutes, the dusty floor was swept, then mopped.

  They had just opened the third of the large linen presses, when there was a commotion downstairs. The cook came bounding up the stairs. “Mrs. Garrity,” he cried, “That Lord Goldstone fellow is at the door demanding that we give Lady Dahlia to him. He says that His Grace didn’t show for his duel at the club, so he is now a crass coward, and the Lady’s hand is forfeit to him.”

  Dahlia rose from the low stool where she had been sorting through a pile of hand towels. Mrs. Garrity held out a hand in front of her. “You are in no way to go down to him, my dear,” she said, “We have a houseful of able-bodied folk to see to it that he cannot have his way.”

  “That’s what Mr. Herbert said,” the young cook panted. “He and Mr. Peter are talking with Lord Goldstone now.”

  “My father!” Dahlia exclaimed.

  “Jemmy and one of the other footmen are with him,” said the cook. “And I sent the spit-boy for the watch. The lad is fleet of foot and not like to attract attention.”

  “Peter the butler? He is an old man, and Goldstone is unlikely to respect his station.”

  “Mr. Herbert was in the war with the Duke,” the young cook said worshipfully. “He’ll show him.”

  “Oh, this is worse and worse!” Dahlia cried. “What could I possibly tell Roger if his friend is hurt or dead upon his return?”

  “Lady Dahlia! You cannot mean to go down there!” Mrs. Garrity protested.

  “I must. My father is down there, and too many people are
likely to get hurt on my account. This has gone on long enough.” Dahlia gathered her skirts about her, grabbed a mop from one of the buckets, and began to descend the stairs.

  She had just come out on the landing above the front entrance when she heard Herbert say, “You had your duel, and had it as you wished the night of the engagement announcement. The watch has been called, and you had best be on your way.”

  “Oh, and your master hides behind closed doors and servants,” Lord Goldstone jeered.

  “My master is not at home to you, nor is he likely to be in the future,” Peter said. “He has left strict instructions that you are not to enter this house.”