Epilogue
The wedding was a grand affair.
When the ball extended into a Christmas wedding, the guests were only too happy – and excited – to have the extra celebration and gossip to go home with. There wasn’t time to find a wedding dress, but as she had with the ball gown, Arabella worked her magic, finding clothes for the children that worked in place of wedding attire.
The service itself was perfect, and though Hamilton had always expected to marry quickly, he could never have imagined that he would be glad of it.
“I thank you for this,” Hamilton told Mr Stewart, taking his hands. He had Abigail’s mother brought up for the occasion, and she was talking to her daughter and a few guests. “I don’t know how you managed it.”
“Thank your Arabella,” Mr Stewart said. “She wrote to me asking for help. I must admit I was confused, but I can see now what my daughter saw in this place.”
“Parson,” Daisy said, adhering to Mr Stewart’s official title, “that service was wonderful.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Mr Stewart said, running a hand over her hair. “Let us find some cake I think, hmm?”
Daisy looked at her father, and Hamilton gave a nod of affirmation. Louis followed more sedately, holding Lottie’s hand. Lottie had been attached to Abigail once again, and Hamilton was glad for it.
“Somewhere, Mother is smiling,” Daisy said proudly, walking back over with a slice of cake for herself and her father. She looked at Abigail. “And now we have another mother who will care for us.”
Hamilton had never thought it possible to be so happy again, not after Catherine. But standing with his wife, Lady Hamilton, and his – their – children and their family, he could not imagine being happier.
*** The End ***
sparring with
the insufferable earl
Regency Romance
Grace Fletcher
Chapter 1
Being a Target
“There! I see one!”
Oliver St Clair, Earl of Gloucester, caught sight of a magnificent-looking deer grazing between the trees. It looked so elegant and placid. And a perfect target.
Philip Dangerfield, Duke of Norfolk, lifted his rifle and took careful aim before firing one shoot. He grinned as the deer disappeared from sight and they heard a loud thump.
“Got it!”
“Nice shooting, Norfolk.” Gloucester leaned over and clapped Norfolk on the shoulder. “You’ve certainly gotten better with your aim in recent weeks.”
“Better than you.” Norfolk chuckled as he reloaded his rifle. “You’re missing everything right now.”
Gloucester scowled. He wasn’t on par with anything right now. This was meant to be a visit to Norfolk’s family estate where they could relax, have some fun and catch up on the last couple of years where things had been so busy they had barely seen each other for more than a few minutes. And Gloucester had always been a good shot, which was why he wanted to go hunting. He had been handling guns since he was a young man and now he wasn’t hitting anything. It was frustrating.
“They’re just getting too fast,” he muttered, adjusting his rifle across his lap.
James Woodthorpe, Earl of Warwick, chuckled and shook his head.
“That’s not it at all. You’re just getting old.”
“I’m not!”
“I doubt it’s old age.” Norfolk was still grinning as he put the gunpowder away. “He’s got his mind on other things. Mainly, a certain lady of his who will be becoming the Countess of Gloucester in the coming months.”
Here it went again. Teasing him about finally becoming a married man. Gloucester considered himself lucky with Edith Lennox. But his friends would not stop poking him about the fact he wasn’t going to be an unmarried man anymore.
Neither man had married so far, preferring to be eligible bachelors. They had never been in love; they wouldn’t understand missing the woman they loved.
“What’s wrong with missing my future bride?”
“It ruins your aim.” Norfolk slapped his friend’s arm as he gently kicked his horse into gear. “You were supposed to be having a break with us, not thinking about life chained to a woman.”
Gloucester rolled his eyes and hurried after Norfolk, Warwick trotting up behind them. They hadn’t stopped goading him for the past three days.
“And I wonder why you two are bachelors,” he said sarcastically.
This was not getting them anywhere. They had bagged one deer already, but Gloucester was eager to get one of his own. He wasn’t going back to the estate until he had shot an animal of his own. His pride wouldn’t let him leave.
Then Gloucester spied a female deer just off to their left. She was standing stock still at the edge of the clearing, her ears twitching. Then she took off, darting between the trees. Gloucester kicked his horse into movement and galloped after it.
“I’ve got this!”
But his friends didn’t follow. They were shouting something but Gloucester was too focused on getting this doe. The blood was rushing in his veins. This is what he loved about hunting; nothing got him feeling more alive than this.
The doe broke through the trees and charged down the slope. Gloucester galloped after her. His horse was gaining speed, getting closer. The doe leaped over a low stone wall and Gloucester’s horse took the leap as well, barely stumbling on the other side. He was so close. All he needed to do was get to his pistol…
A gunshot rang out through the air. A split second later, Gloucester felt a sharp pain exploding in his leg. Surprised, the horse slowed and reared up, Gloucester unable to grab onto the reins and his leg at the same time. He landed hard on the ground and clutched at his leg. It was in agony. Blood came away onto his fingers and there was a gaping wound in the back of his leg, his riding boots ruined.
The pain was unimaginable. Gloucester had never been shot, and it was excruciating. His father had talked about being shot in the army, but Gloucester never understood how it felt. Until now.
Who had shot at him? Was he under attack? Was someone trying to kill him?
Then he heard a female voice. It was shouting at him and she sounded angry.
“What did you think you were doing, you bumbling fool!”
Gloucester looked up and saw a dark-haired woman, not much younger than him, striding across the field towards him. She was carrying a rifle in one hand but that wasn’t what had Gloucester’s attention.
She was wearing men’s clothing. A man’s shirt and waistcoat under a man’s jacket, and trousers that were a different color to the jacket. She also wore sturdy riding boots, her long hair loose about her shoulders, and a bag settled on her hip, the strap slung across her shoulder.
Was he dreaming this? Since when did women wear men’s clothes? Gloucester momentarily forgot he was in extreme pain until he attempted to stand and it shot through his body again. He sat heavily on the grass with a yell.
“You shot me!”
The woman snorted.
“You’re lucky I wasn’t aiming a little higher. Don’t you look?”
“You…” Gloucester grimaced as the pain started throbbing up his leg. “Oh, that hurts!”
“Gloucester!”
Norfolk and Warwick had dismounted on the other side of the wall. They vaulted over and ran towards them. Norfolk knelt beside his friend and stared at the wound.
“What on earth…?” Then he saw the woman standing nearby and stood. “Lady Juliana.”
“Your Grace.”
They knew each other? Gloucester couldn’t believe Norfolk wasn’t chastising the woman for being in charge of a rifle. He pointed at her.
“She shot me!”
“What?”
Norfolk looked stunned. Warwick was staring at Juliana in astonishment.
“You shot him?”
Juliana snorted.
“A little hare turned into a huge human before I realized what had happened. And you shouldn’t be here, anyway. You know thi
s is my father’s land, Your Grace.” She gestured at Gloucester with the rifle. “Even if I wasn’t hunting, I would have every right to shoot you for trespassing.”
Gloucester couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How was he to know he was on someone else’s land? And she didn’t have the right to shoot him. Warwick was still staring at Juliana.
“You shot him?”
Juliana bristled.
“I happen to be a very good shot, thank you. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I’m not meant to be near guns.”
“You shouldn’t be near guns if you keep shooting the wrong things,” Gloucester growled.
Juliana snorted.
“Well, maybe that should teach you to ride onto someone else’s land without a care in the world.”
Now Gloucester was bristling. He was forgetting his pain in his anger.
“I am the Earl of Gloucester…,” he began but Juliana cut him off.
“I don’t care who you are, I shoot first and ask questions later.” She pursed her lips and looked at Norfolk, who was watching the exchange curiously. “You’d better bring him to my father’s house, Your Grace. We’re closer to there.” She shot a glare at Gloucester. “And consider yourself lucky if you don’t have to lose your foot.”
She turned and strode off, her walk confident as her hair was brushed back from her face by the gentle breeze. Gloucester snarled.
“Impertinent woman!”
Norfolk shook his head and bent down, helping Gloucester to his feet.
“Now you’ve done it.”
“Who is she?”
“My neighbor’s daughter, Juliana Boyd. Lord Boyd is a decent enough man and his wife is lovely, but Juliana is…unconventional.”
Unconventional was the right word. Gloucester had never seen a woman handle a gun. He had never seen a woman wear men’s clothes before. She was completely unconventional.
“I think I’m in love.” Warwick murmured. He was still staring after Juliana. Norfolk slapped the back of his head.
“Less of the daydreaming and get Gloucester’s horse. We’ve got to get him a doctor.”
“But at your estate, not hers,” Gloucester growled. “I’m not going there.”
“But they’re closer.” Norfolk gave him a look that said he wasn’t going to take an argument. “You’re in need of a doctor now, Oliver. Focus on that and not on who you’re going to be going to.”
Gloucester knew he was right, but that didn’t stop him from grumbling as the horses were retrieved.
Chapter 2
A Close Call
By the time they reached the Boyd house, Gloucester was practically fuming. His leg was in agony and all he wanted to do was to go to Norfolk’s house, get his friend’s personal doctor, and rest there. But, instead, that woman was telling them to take him to her house. Gloucester wanted to be as far away as possible from this woman.
Even if she did look enticing in men’s apparel. That was not right. Juliana Boyd was supposed to be in a pretty dress, sitting on the veranda drinking tea. She looked like she could pass that picture off very well. She wasn’t supposed to be going out into the country with a gun, wearing men’s clothing and shooting at rabbits.
Or people.
Gloucester growled at his friends as they pulled up outside the Boyd house. Juliana had already dismounted and was going inside, barely casting a second look over her shoulder.
“I’m going to kill you two for this,” he snarled.
Norfolk chuckled as he dismounted.
“I’d like to see you try with your aim right now. And you can’t exactly run after us.”
“Just stop your whining, Gloucester.” Warwick unceremoniously tugged Gloucester off the horse, making Gloucester’s leg practically scream in pain. “We’re getting you seen to. You want to keep your leg, don’t you?”
Gloucester wasn’t sure if having his leg saved was worth being in the same house as Juliana Boyd. Talk about convention being turned on its head.
Norfolk and Warwick carried Gloucester into the house. Juliana was at the foot of the stairs, directing some of the staff. They scurried away at her instructions and Juliana turned to them, beckoning Norfolk and Warwick towards her.
“Get him upstairs. They’re preparing the guest room. The stable boy’s gone for the doctor.”
“That’s not how you talk to people with peerages,” Gloucester snapped.
“Oh, shut it.” Norfolk grunted, adjusting his hold on Gloucester’s shoulders. “Now’s not the time to discuss any of this.”
Juliana snorted.
“I’m glad you’re of sound mind, Lord Gloucester.”
Then she hurried up the stairs, Gloucester trying not to look at her long legs. She was trouble, big trouble. He needed to get out of here.
His friends struggled with him up the stairs and carried him along the hall. Juliana ushered them into a spacious bedroom that was practically sparkling with the sun coming through the south window. Juliana pulled the sheets back on the bed.
“Put him down here.”
Gloucester was almost dropped onto the bed, the act nearly knocking him onto the floor. He yelled as his leg screamed again and he managed to shift further onto the bed.
“Phew!” Warwick flexed his arms and rolled his wrists. “How much have you been eating? You’re far too heavy.”
“I’ll remember that when I’m better, Warwick,” Gloucester growled.
Juliana rolled her eyes and went over to the dresser. She rummaged around as Gloucester was helped out of his coat. Then she returned to the bed with a pair of scissors in her hand. Gloucester sat up as Juliana sat on the bed and began to make a hole in his trousers with the scissors, starting to cut.
“What are you doing?”
“You can’t have the cloth sticking to the wound.” Juliana batted his hand away as Gloucester tried to push her back, not even stopping the cutting. “It’ll get infected, and it needs to be cleaned.”
Gloucester flinched as she neatly sliced a line up his trouser leg. This felt really wrong. He reached out, managing to grab her wrist and squeezing tight. Juliana glanced up at him and Gloucester saw the fire in her eyes. Whoa. That had his heart stumbling.
Unconventional she may be, those eyes were stunning.
“Not by you.” He hissed before letting go and slumping back against the pillows.
“Who, then?” Juliana demanded. “Would you rather lose the leg?”
“If you’re tending to it, yes.”
Norfolk sighed and laid a hand on Juliana’s shoulder.
“I’ll do it, Lady Juliana. My friend is being very stubborn.” He took the scissors from her. “He’ll more likely kick you with his good leg.”
Gloucester scowled as Juliana gave his friend a smile that made him feel like he had been punched in the gut.
“Thank you, my lord.” Juliana stood and smoothed her hands down her trousers. “I’m going to wait for the doctor.”
She left, walking with a grace that Gloucester hadn’t noticed before. Juliana Boyd was a real anomaly. Gloucester snarled. She was turning his head upside-down.
“That woman…,” he began, but Norfolk held up a hand.
“Enough. You need to calm down.”
Gloucester sat back and grumbled as Norfolk cut up his trousers, revealing the wound just above his knee. It didn’t look good at all. Gloucester was sure he could see bone. He had to look away before his stomach decided to bring up his breakfast. Norfolk and Warwick were looking a little green around the gills. Gloucester couldn’t blame them; it did look like his leg was hanging on by a thread.
The doctor got there quicker than Gloucester expected. He was very efficient, checking over the wound and cleaning it before dressing it. The bindings were painful and Gloucester felt like his leg was on fire but it was not on display anymore. Now the bandages were stark white against the flesh color of his thigh.
“I must say,” the doctor commented as he started packing his bag, “yo
u were lucky.”
“Lucky?” Gloucester exclaimed. He gestured at his leg. “How is this lucky?”
“I know Lady Juliana’s aim. She’s a crack shot, better than most men I know.” The doctor grinned as he stood. “You’re lucky she wasn’t aiming higher.”
“Charming.”
Norfolk chuckled, and Warwick hid a smile behind his hand. Gloucester glowered at the three of them as the doctor left. Everyone seemed to be against him. Why was he in the wrong for something that woman did? That wasn’t right. At all. Why was Juliana Boyd not being reprimanded for her actions?
He was going to have a few words with Lord Boyd. That man had raised a complete terror of a daughter.
Shortly after the doctor left, there was a knock at the door and a graying-blond head poked around the door. He looked nervous.
“Excuse me, my lord. May I come in?”
“Lord Boyd?”
“Yes, Lord Gloucester.”
Boyd came into the room. He was very tall, well over six feet, and a little portly. But he looked like a gentle giant. A nervous gentle giant, wringing his hands together as he approached the bed.
“I would like to apologize for what happened between you and my daughter, my lord. My daughter told me everything.”
“Did she?” Gloucester narrowed his eyes. “Did she tell you that she shot me?”
“On our land.” Boyd sighed. “But Juliana was in the wrong. She has better control than that.”
Gloucester growled. That wasn’t good enough for an apology. He managed to sit up and glower at the man, who looked to be wanting to be anywhere but in that room.
“You should control her better,” he snapped. “Then she wouldn’t be parading around in men’s clothes.”
Boyd’s expression turned to stone, and he straightened up, squaring his shoulders as a harsh glow entered his eyes.
“My daughter is refined when she needs to be,” he said stiffly. “This is her home, she can wear whatever she likes. And if she is shown rudeness, my lord, she’s certainly not going to waste her breath on being refined.”
Regency Romances Page 83
