Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  “You’d do well to keep to yourself, Your Grace. Or you will be next.” Wallace snarled and made eye contact with each of the hostages.

  He was goading them. Carlisle took a deep breath. The interloper clearly underestimated them. Carlisle again stroked Olivia’s hair.

  “Get away from her. Sit over there.” Wallace gestured to the table, and Duke Carlisle did as he was told. He feared Wallace would up and kill Olivia.

  Wallace picked up the carafe of madeira. Clean brandy glasses had been set up on the side table for after supper refreshment for the men. “Ah. Madeira. A lovely wine. The Spanish know their wine business.” He lifted one of the brandy glasses and filled it with the wine. He drained the glass and walked around the room looking at some of the items within it. He came back to the side table and poured another snifter full of wine.

  Carlisle was waiting for the perfect opportunity. He extricated his pen knife from his vest and pushed it up his sleeve. Wallace’s back had been turned for just a moment, but it was enough time. Atwater saw the gesture, and the two made eye contact.

  Phoebe and Mary still sat together at the table, tears streaming down Mary’s face.

  “Mr Wallace, may I see to Miss McGowan? She needs a doctor. At least let me give her some comfort,” Carlisle pleaded.

  “Hmm? Yes, fine.” Wallace had moved to one of the windows set high up in the wall and looked up towards the street.

  Carlisle crossed the room from the table to the sofa. He made his way behind Atwater and passed the knife into his waiting hand. Carlisle then sat on the edge of the sofa and stroked Olivia’s hair back from her face in a gentle manner.

  His mind was spinning. Hopefully, Atwater would be free soon and pass the knife to Thomas. Carlisle turned to Phoebe. “Your Grace, might I ask you to hold this bandage against Miss McGowan’s wound?”

  “Oh, y-yes. Of course, Duke Carlisle.” She walked over and knelt on the floor by the sofa. “What is happening?” She mouthed the words to Carlisle who gestured for her to be quiet and go to Olivia.

  “Listen, My Lady,” Olivia barely whispered, “I am not injured badly, but I will use this to distract.” She pointed at Wallace’s turned back.

  The Duchess nodded at Olivia’s words. “What should I do?” she whispered back to the girl.

  “Stay here by me, and let Duke Carlisle assist His Grace and Lord Thomas.”

  Phoebe nodded again.

  Wallace turned from the window. He seemed almost startled to see them and began laughing. “I daresay, if the ton could see you now. But they’ll see you all soon enough. Tomorrow when they come to this house and find you all dead.” He snickered. No one answered him.

  “You’re so good to care for me this way, Your Grace.” Olivia drew Phoebe to her and slipped a vial into her hand. Phoebe, having no other recourse, quickly pressed the tiny vessel into her bodice.

  “Oh, la. I am so thirsty. Mr Wallace, may we have some wine?”

  “No. I am enjoying this carafe. Drink the cold tea on the sideboard if you’re so thirsty, Your Grace.”

  The time was passing slowly. The six hostages said nothing, only waited. They waited until the perfect moment to strike back, each looking at the others in an unspoken conspiracy to take down their mutual enemy.

  “In fact, pour me another, Duchess Atwater. I fancy being waited on by the peerage for once.”

  Phoebe went to the carafe on the sideboard. She removed the cut glass stopper and withdrew the vial from her sleeve. Quickly she opened it and raised it slightly over the bottle. She tipped the vial.

  A hand appeared from nowhere and clamped around her wrist. Carlisle could see Phoebe’s flesh turning purple as Wallace forced her to drop the vial. He pushed her viciously against the wall.

  Atwater sprung forward and caught Wallace off guard. Wallace spun around flailing; the wine he’d drunk had gone to his head. He’d drunk too fast. Atwater squared off and hit Wallace with a right hook followed by an uppercut.

  Wallace came back at him, his pen knife unsheathed. Atwater deflected the downward thrust of the knife by knocking Wallace’s forearm away from him.

  “What did she think she was going to do? Save everyone? Save yourself?” Wallace said from the floor as he struggled to rise to his feet. He collapsed and fell to his back.

  “Brava, Robert!” Tom and Carlisle clapped, and then the three intended to join their female counterparts.

  *******

  Terence had been bound and gagged in the butlery. Almost an hour had gone by in which he’d been holding the bindings as close to the fire as he dared. But at least his hands had been tied in front of his torso.

  Once his wrists were free, he could untie his ankles and get help. He would scorch the rope and pull his wrists apart as hard as possible, then do it again. It was taking much time.

  He heard a sound and half scurried, half hopped back to his seat as quickly as he could. Jimmy, the stable boy had entered the servants’ hall. If Wallace heard him, he would take the boy hostage, or worse. Terence did not feel the need to try the man’s patience.

  Jimmy was getting some bread and cheese for his supper. What a racket he was making. Terence decided to risk it and called for the boy in a hoarse whisper. “Jimmy. Come into the butlery.”

  The boy appeared in the doorway. “Mr Sheridan! Sir! Are you quite alright?”

  Terence shushed the boy and called him further into the room. “You must untie me boy. There is an interloper in the family sitting room. He holds His Grace and Her Grace prisoner, along with the Radcliffes and Her Grace’s cousin. Olivia is there too. I believe he means to kill them.”

  “What should I do, Mr Sheridan?”

  “Run as fast as you can to find Colonel Drake at the army barracks. Tell him he must come. And go to fetch the doctor. When you come back, if I am not in the mews, do not enter the house alone. Can I count on you for this?

  “Of course, Mr Sheridan.”

  “I believe Mrs Crabtree to be in back in the garden. Leave her. If she comes here, I can stop her.”

  “Yes, Mr Sheridan.” The boy finished untying the burnt and blistered wrists of the butler and made his way for the back door.

  “Mind you keep to the alley. If you use the passage to the area, you might be seen,” Terence whispered before the boy went out. Then he headed down the corridor to the sitting room.

  *******

  The bell at the front door of Regent Street chimed. The six prisoners looked at each other marvelling that they were still alive. It seemed Bruce Wallace had fallen asleep, lulled by the wine he’d drunk. Sleeping in the prison must have been very uncomfortable.

  The group looked at Wallace. If one of them could get the keys from his waistcoat, they could get out of this room.

  They conducted a whispered meeting, while Mary freed Phoebe. When they were ready, they put the ropes on the evil Mr Bruce Wallace. Atwater and Tom tied Wallace’s torso and hands while Carlisle tied the feet.

  The front door chime sounded again. Terence answered. It was the Colonel and the Lieutenant. The Dukes Atwater and Carlisle, Phoebe, Mary, and Olivia all came out of the sitting room and up to the front hall.

  The doctor had arrived by this time and took Mary and Olivia upstairs into one of the guest bedrooms to examine Olivia’s wound.

  Atwater and Carlisle spoke with Colonel Drake, and they went downstairs to collect the perpetrator.

  “He’s right this way, Colonel. Atwater opened the sitting room door.”

  “Now isn’t that peculiar?” He stepped into the room. What had happened?

  Bruce Wallace was gone.

  Chapter 24

  The men immediately made their way to the ladies, now upstairs in the parlour.

  “Duke Carlisle, may I impose on you to watch over the ladies while we search for Wallace.”

  “Whatever I can do, Your Grace.”

  “Terence, I leave any decisions that need making up to you.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

>   “I’d like you all to barricade yourselves in the servants’ hall. You’ll be together, and there is a means of egress nearby.”

  The Colonel, the Lieutenant, Tom, and Atwater made a thorough search of the house, the mews, and the gardens. Outside, in the gardens, Atwater strode over to the housekeeper and kitchen maid.

  “Mrs Crabtree, Sally. Go into the house straight away. Terence will explain everything.”

  The women nodded and went inside. Atwater sent Jimmy inside as well, and then turned to the others. “Gentlemen? Where to now?”

  “My first guess is he’ll go back to the prison to pick up Charlotte,” Tom supplied.

  “He’s got another thought coming then,” Captain Drake responded.

  “Why would that be?” Tom asked.

  “Charlotte Evans wants to go to America.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “That’s what Miss Evans told me. In fact, the little wench manipulated me into putting it on paper. She won’t be convicted. She’ll most likely get a year or two of labour. By going to America, if she survives the journey, she’ll never come back here to England.”

  “How can you say that with such certainty?”

  “Because. I reckon Charlotte Evans wants to start clean,” the Colonel offered.

  “Hmmm. A brand new life in a strange land, where not a soul knows her. It’s a good plan.”

  *******

  “Psst. Charlotte. My lady.”

  Charlotte was dreaming again. The glow of the full moon, through the one

  tiny window in the cell had woken her.

  “My lady.”

  Charlotte opened her eyes. Bruce Wallace was at the window high up in the wall.

  “I have a file. I’m dropping it down to you.”

  She stood and made her way to the window. “No.”

  “No? Why you can file two of these bars and get out by morning. I’ll start it for you. That’s the hardest part.” He began sloughing the tool to and fro stirring up a dust of iron filings.

  “Bruce. Stop. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “I’m staying put.”

  “This is a poor time for a joke, Charlotte. There’s only about five hours until daylight.”

  “You misunderstand me, Bruce. I’m staying put.” Charlotte generally resorted to sarcasm when annoyed.

  “But, I can get you out. Come on, woman. I’ve risked my neck coming here. I could be halfway to France by now.”

  “That’s none of my concern,” Charlotte hissed.

  “I’m going to France, Charlotte. Are you coming with me or not?”

  “No. That’s what I’ve been trying to say to you. I’m staying here; I’m putting in exemplary behaviour. I will be released, and the record of my being here will be destroyed. Now go. Leave me.”

  “But, but, Charlotte. I love you.”

  “As I said, that is none of my concern,” Charlotte said with finality. Bruce had been fine for awhile. She’d used him as she’d used every man before him. To her, relationships with various men were conducted merely to manipulate a man into doing the dirty work that she, as a woman, could not do.

  She had an arrangement with the Colonel, in writing. The Lieutenant had told her that the Colonel would, most likely, allow her to leave on the next ship of criminals being sent to America.

  Not to worry, he said. She need not be seen as a criminal. He knew a place where he could procure identification papers for her. She could change her identity. Of course, the attainment of the papers came with a cost. And Charlotte had dutifully lain beneath the man.

  “That is your final decision?”

  “Yes. Bruce, it is.” She looked deeply into his eyes. She did share a morsel of feeling with him. But it was nothing she couldn’t live without.

  She was about to tell him she was sorry when he spit between the bars.

  The little puddle at her feet had missed her, so he tried again. She retreated to the far end of the cell knowing full well that when the Colonel got back, if Bruce was still outside, he would be arrested again. Wherever he’d been, escaping would add to the severity of his already severe sentence.

  Bruce would never get out of prison alive unless he escaped again. He would be in solitary confinement, guarded twenty-four hours a day. He would never be sent to America.

  He’d been a petty thief and thug. Now, Wallace had held a Duke hostage in his own home. Charlotte didn’t need all the facts to ascertain where he had been all afternoon and evening.

  She heard the clatter of horses’ hooves pounding down the cobbled street. Wallace still tried to entice her.

  “Go, Bruce. Run. You’ll never get out again if you don’t.” She said it more to assuage her guilt than any other reason. The man had risked his life for her. Well, she’d never asked for that level of devotion. Whatever happened to Wallace now was of his own doing.

  He disappeared; his moonlit silhouette there one moment then vanished.

  *******

  Olivia had been ensconced in one of the guest chambers, Duke Carlisle staying by her bedside in case she needed anything during the night.”

  “May I get you anything, Cousin?” Phoebe poked her head into the room.

  The Duke stood and quietly walked to the door. He glanced back over his shoulder to satisfy himself that she was asleep.

  “I have made my apologies, Your Grace. To yourself, your husband, and I’ve spoken privately with the others and given Lady Mary a note of apology to give to her maid, Susan.”

  “Yes. It’s wonderful to see you in this light, I must admit.”

  “May we go to the sitting room, Your Grace?”

  “Of course. Follow me.”

  They entered Phoebe’s sitting room, off her bedchamber, by the hallway door. Carlisle stoked the fire, and Phoebe rang for Sally to bring some refreshment. It was almost midnight, but Phoebe was wide awake after the happenings earlier.

  They sat at the little table. “What is it, Cousin?” Phoebe asked.

  “I’d planned on staying a week in London, but I’ve decided I will be going back to Edinburgh in a couple days.”

  “As you wish, Your Grace. You know you have a place here.”

  “And for that, I thank you. I also have a question of the utmost importance. I’m about to venture into territory that has, in the past, left me with my soul shattered.”

  “Go on.”

  “You see, my odious behaviour of a year ago had to do with my shock and sorrow over the death of my late wife. I’d never felt a pain so keen, and I suppose I thought if I drove those around me away, then I should never feel anything like it ever again. It’s a poor excuse. I only want to say that I am so grateful to you and the Duke for your forgiveness.”

  “It is actually my husband to whom you should be telling this, Your Grace. He is a good man. He chose to give you another chance in our lives. I’m glad it worked out to the benefit of all concerned.”