The Captain of Her Betrayed Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  The Duke nodded slowly. “I have been thinking of that. Much of my thoughts were with young Gwyn as I thought of things that would appease her. Yet, hearing her wish to see Henry gone in good peace, I question my thirst for vengeance.” He shook his head. “Women are a surprising bunch.”

  “That they are,” Jack agreed.

  The Duke asked thoughtfully, “What of your thoughts on the matter?”

  Jack had plenty of thoughts most of the time as to what he would like done to his brother, but he just sighed. “I just want everything to be as it was, and not abiding that, then at least as close as it can be,” Jack said earnestly.

  “What of Gwyn? What do you think she will do now? I hate that our family has visited such needless frustrations upon her and at a time when she could so dearly not afford it.” Lady Shelton wrung her hands as she looked at Jack with worry. “Do you think the child will be okay?”

  Jack nodded slowly. “I think she will recover. As Father said, women are surprising.”

  ***

  (A month later)

  Gwyn frowned at her reflection. “What is it?” Adrienne asked curiously.

  “Do you think my hair looks better down?” Gwyn asked pointedly.

  Adrienne chuckled as she took some pins out of Gwyn’s hair and let the woman’s brown hair fall in ringlets along her shoulders. “I think it looks lovely down,” Adrienne commented.

  The little room they sat in was a bit chilly with the wintery breezes outside, and the church as a whole seemed not very well insulated. Winter was determined to come on early, but Gwyn just wanted to get down the aisle, hopefully for the last time.

  “I think it is time for us to get into position,” Adrienne said as she listened. “They have started the organ music.”

  Gwyn let Adrienne put the finishing touches on her hair before they quickly got themselves out the door and down the hall. They met Gwyn’s parents who gave her bright smiles. “Is it time?” Gwyn’s father asked.

  “I do think it is, Papa,” Gwyn said cheerfully. She took the man’s hand in her own. Adrienne opened the doors for them, and they strode through as the organ played them down the aisle.

  Gwyn looked around at the faces that greeted her. She saw Mary and her husband to whom she gave a smile. Mary returned the expression with excitement. Nothing was more a welcome sight though than the man at the altar. Gwyn smiled at Jack in his grey suit.

  Jack smiled back at Gwyn, and her heart fluttered against her chest. At the altar, Gwyn’s father happily handed her off much to Jack’s amusement. Gwyn grinned after the man as he was led away by her mother to their seats. Gwyn took Jack’s hand and let him help her up onto the little raised spot by the altar.

  The minister’s words blended into the sounds of blood rushing in her ears. Gwyn wanted to rush the man through because even the few words that he had to say were too many for her. She held her breath when he got to the part about people being allowed to call out their disagreement with the marriage. Thankfully, the church remained silent.

  She shared a smile and a soft laugh with Jack as the ceremony continued. When it got to the part where they were presented as man and wife, Gwyn thought her heart may burst. This was the day she had dreamed of for so long. Hope had been lost and then gained again, but she never should have feared because love always seems to find a way.

  Epilogue

  (Three years later)

  The halls of Stanton Manor clamoured as Gwyn called out for her father. The man had gone missing while playing hide-n-seek with his grandson. Now Gwyn had both the Stanton and Shelton households out looking for the man.

  Jack came through the double doors just as Gwyn entered the sunroom. “You should come with me,” Jack said with a mischievous smile.

  “Why? What is it?” Gwyn called out as Jack disappeared back out the doors. “Jack, answer me,” she called out as she hurried after the man. “Jack Shelton, you come here this minute.”

  Jack called, “You will have to catch me first.”

  “We are not children.” Gwyn laughed, but she followed him, certain that the man had found something of her father.

  Gwyn stopped as she came around a bend in the path and spotted her father and son playing on the wooden bridge. “Papa, what are you doing?”

  Her father looked around and said, “Alas! We have been found!” the man wailed, and Gwyn frowned. Her young son, Fredrick, wailed as well.

  “Look out, Mama!” Fredrick called out in alarm.

  An arm went around Gwyn’s waist, and she found herself hoisted up. “I have her now!” Jack’s voice rang in Gwyn’s ears.

  “Put me down,” Gwyn demanded through her laughter.

  Jack said, “Quiet, ye wench!”

  Fredrick and her father were already on their way to her rescue. Jack deposited Gwyn behind him. “Let her go,” demanded Fredrick in as close to a pirate voice as the boy could manage.

  “Stand aside, Blackbeard!” Gwyn’s father yelled as he produced a wooden sword from his belt. “We are saving the lass from ye!”

  Fredrick whooped in glee behind his grandfather’s proclamation.

  “Ha!” Jack yelled. “I will take ye both on!”

  Gwyn laughed with glee as the fight commenced. Jack dodged and weaved around Fredrick and Lord Stanton’s attacks until finally, Fredrick landed a blow that felled the dreaded pirate captain to his knees. “We got ’im!” Fredrick yelled in triumph before he and his grandfather ran off towards the house.

  Gwyn shook her head as she looked down at her husband lying dead on the ground. “You could have just told me,” Gwyn said as she gave the man a gentle kick to the side.

  Jack peeked at her out of one eye. “You would have had me ruin the surprise?”

  “I could have done without being attacked by a pirate, but I am glad that he got what was coming to him,” Gwyn said with a nod of her head.

  Jack snorted with laughter as he got up off the ground and dusted himself off. “So you would have me run through, eh?”

  “You did try to kidnap me,” Gwyn reminded the man.

  He shook his finger at her. “Wary, I am a vengeful man.”

  Gwyn grinned and said, “I can handle vengeful.”

  “But a pirate is patient,” Jack warned. “A pirate is stealthy, and he will get you when you least expect it.”

  Gwyn laughed brightly. “Oh?” She turned towards the house. “Then I looked forward to what you have in store.”

  ***

  Shelton Halls were aglow with candles as Lady Shelton held a dinner in honour of her husband’s birthday. The wind was blustery outside the windows, and frost lined the glass, but inside the atmosphere was warm, and the drink flowed. Lady Shelton tapped her glass to get everyone’s attention.

  “Please, may I have your attention,” Lady Shelton called in her prim and proper voice. Everyone grew silent. She smiled at her guests. “Tonight is my husband’s birthday,and we all gather to celebrate with him.” Lady Shelton looked over at the man who waved his hand in the air with a smile much to everyone’s amusement.

  Lady Shelton continued, “All of you gathered here are dear friends and family. We have had the distinct privilege of sharing our lives with each of you. You have watched our children grow and now our grandchildren.” Fredrick bounced in his seat to get attention, and people chuckled at the child’s antics.

  “Most of all you have watched the journey of our youngest son growing into the mantle that was thrust upon him. On his birthday, my husband wanted to bestow a special gift onto Jack. Darling?” Lady Shelton looked at her husband expectantly.

  Lord Shelton stood up and boomed out. “Hello. Jack, could you come here?”

  Jack came up to stand beside his father warily. “What is going on?” Jack whispered, but the man ignored him.

  Lord Shelton said loudly, “Jack has worked tirelessly not only to perform his new duties as Duke of Castleberry but also to run two households and keep all of us nice and cozy.”

  The
re was a round of applause mostly from Gwyn and the household staff which made Jack eye her curiously. Lord Shelton continued as the applause died down, “Jack, we just want you all to know that we appreciate you more than you know. We have watched you grow, and you were made for this position. That being said, we want to give you a small token of our affection.”

  Lord Shelton held out his hands, and two maids brought in a large cake in the shape of a pirate flag. Jack laughed heartily. “You did this?” Jack asked as he looked over at Gwyn.

  Gwyn shrugged. “We all did, but I suggested the shape of the cake. Once a pirate, always a pirate.”

  THE END

  Can't get enough of Gwyn and Jack? Then make sure to check out the Extended Epilogue to find out…

  Click the link or enter it into your browser

  http://abigailagar.com/gwyn

  (After reading the Extended Epilogue, turn the page to read the first chapters from “The Artisan and the Duke”, my Amazon Best-Selling novel!)

  The Artisan and the Duke

  Introduction

  Gregory St. Claire, Duke of Thornton, never cared much for society. He flew in the face of tradition whenever he could, but from the moment he met the strange artisan shouting out a rallying call in the streets of London, his curiosity is piqued. Soon enough, Gregory gets absolutely fascinated, when he discovers that what he thought of a young man is really a beautiful young woman. What else can he expect from this encounter?

  Jules Kelley’s opinion of high society is pretty low. When a noble playing commoner stumbles upon her and gets wind of her secret, she is all but certain that things could not get worse! The Mason Guild is soon blazing and under raid. Gregory saves her from the guards, but is he aware that by saving her from one evil he only pulls her into another?

  Together they stumble into a mystery surrounding a fire that should never have happened, and get pulled into the darker corners of society and forbidden love...

  Chapter 1

  The year my brother came home was a year of great unrest and turmoil. We had won a great victory at war but were losing ground back home. My brother left a bright, shining example of bravery and returned a shaken shell filled with fear. His confidence had been left on some bloodied battlefield, and all that he brought home were nightmares.

  London, June 1819

  Gregory St Claire, Duke of Thornton, pulled on a plain, if rather worn, white shirt and breeches like the commoners wore. He sidestepped around corners and evaded the servants who might tell his mother of his appearance or anything else. Gregory liked to be alone most of these days. Wandering the streets of London gave him great solace that he was not as ignorant to the plight of the common man as his fellows and peers.

  The streets off the main roads were tight and curling affairs. The roads wound around brick buildings where sheets were hung out windows and overhead. The sun was almost completely blocked at points by laundry hanging between the buildings.

  Gregory stepped around a suspicious puddle. It had not rained that day, and Gregory had no intention of finding out what the origins of the puddle actually were. Ahead, he heard voices, and he quickened his pace.

  A young man, slender of frame, stood up on top of a wooden crate. He looked at the gathering of men and women. “Too long have we suffered injustices at the hands of the mighty. The Lords and Ladies dance while our children starve,” the man shouted, and there were nods of agreement. A quiet mumble of discourse among those gathered around sounded as they found they felt similarly.

  The spokesman said fervently, “I’m not calling for violence. I’m calling for change. We as artisans have to stand up for our livelihoods. If we do not, then no one will. The tons label us as libel, they plaster names of distaste on our children’s heads, and we have let them do it.”

  A man in the crowd shouted, “How can we stop them? If we gather in public, they arrest us. If they choose not to pay us for hard work done, we have no recourse.”

  “Where a footing is not equal, someone is bound to fall,” the spokesman said in agreement with the man who had spoken out. “I am just suggesting that it be they who fall and not us.”

  There were shouts of approval from the crowd, and Gregory felt a vague sense of uneasiness. He could not disagree with any point the crowd or spokesman had made. Perhaps, that made him most uneasy of all.

  As the crowd started to disperse, Gregory sought out the spokesman. He was very interested in meeting this young man who held such lofty ideas of reform. “Excuse me, Sir,” Gregory said with deference to the man as he caught up with him.

  As the man turned, Gregory took stock of the dark, quick eyes that sized him up as swiftly as the hunter spotting game. “I was wondering if I could have a word,” Gregory said with a polite smile.

  “You seem to already be having a word,” the young man said coldly. “I’ve got things to do, Mister.”

  Gregory reached out and grabbed the boy’s arm as he turned to leave. “Please, just a moment of your time.”

  “I haven’t seen you before,” the young man said suspiciously. “Who are you?”

  Gregory said simply, “My name is Gregory, and truthfully I haven’t been around much. I don’t come into London proper that often.”

  “Farmer or herder,” the young man said with a nod. “Funny, you don’t look like you’ve ever done a good day’s work with those hands.”

  Gregory could not protest that, but his hands were not that of a woman’s. “I’ve done my share of things,” Gregory said without elaborating. The young man’s hair was tucked under his derby cap.

  It was then that Gregory noticed the delicacy of the man’s cheekbones, and something about it made him uneasy. Something was not right about this boy, but Gregory could not put his finger on it.

  “Are you a Molly or something?” The young man asked the question as he stepped away from Gregory and the intent gaze the taller man was giving him.

  Gregory laughed, “Hardly. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I was just taken by your delicate features. You could pass for a girl.”

  “And you could almost pass for a man,” the young man fired back at Gregory. The young man turned on his heel and swiftly walked away but threw the words over his shoulder, “You might want to watch yourself. People around here are not too keen on strangers.”

  Thinking it wise to let the young man cool off, Gregory did not try to pursue him. He knew a thing or two about young male pride, and the remark of Gregory’s had evidently smarted. With a sigh, Gregory turned back towards the main street. He would be missed soon with the dance of Lady Mallory set for this evening.

  ***

  Jules had paused at the corner and watched the strange man walk off toward the busier, wider roads of the heart of London. What sort of herder would be coming from the centre of London? Jules mused on it as she turned towards her own home. The building where her mother and younger siblings lived was just around the corner and a quick jaunt up some steps.

  The building had been one that her father had helped build back when this block of the city was merely just a thought and a dream. She stepped inside their apartment where her mother sat sewing up some garment or other. “Hello, Mother,” Jules said as she swept the cap off her head. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders in waves.

  “Was that you I heard rousing the army out there?” her mother called as Jules walked into the kitchen to splash some water from the basin on her face.