He swept her into his arms again, spinning her around, her feet in the air, as she laughed with joy. When he set her feet to the ground again, she clung to him, dizzy with happiness.
For some time they simply stood that way, safe in each other’s’ arms, until the lengthening shadows reminded them that it was time to go.
Harriet, in that moment, suddenly realised that John must have seen, from a distance, the whole thing. And he had done nothing. How wonderful! She must thank him later.
Geoffrey boosted her onto Moonbeam, then mounted Rajah, and they set off along the path to Pendholm Hall.
“As soon as we arrive, I shall speak to Charlton. Er, how do you think he will react? Will he approve? Will your mother approve?”
Harriet looked at him like he was quite mad.
“Of course they will approve. And, if they seem to have any doubts, I will convince them.”
This was the Harriet he loved – strong minded, determined, bright and beautiful.
~~~~~
Charlton laughed at the worried look on Geoffrey’s face.
“Of course I approve! I shall be proud to call you brother-in-law, as well as brother-in-arms. I never thought to see this day, yet I should have known. My sister has always had a knack for getting what she wants – and she made no bones about wanting you.”
Geoffrey’s face lit with a grin to match Charlton’s.
“I thought that we might have the wedding at Witherwood Chase, at Easter, when everyone will be here. That’s just more than the necessary month needed for the banns. And I doubt Harriet wants to wait longer, any more than I do.”
Geoffrey actually blushed as he spoke, and Charlton laughed again, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Come then, let’s go and tell mother the news. I suspect if we take any longer to come out of this room, Harriet will come bursting in, ready to force me to agree!”
Lady Sylvia embraced Geoffrey, smiling with tears in her eyes.
“At first I was not so sure that you were right for her, you know. But the more I saw you with her, the more right it seemed. I cannot imagine a better man for my wild child of a daughter!”
At that moment, Harriet burst into the room, Charlton captured her before she had taken more than two steps, and spun her around, laughing at her expression.
“Harriet, I approve, and so does mother. You’ve no need to demand our agreement.”
She stopped, and had the grace to flush, before looking up defiantly and reaching for Geoffrey’s hand.
Their Easter gathering was full of life and happiness, of friends become family and lifelong bonds made. It was made more joyous by the occasion of Harriet and Geoffrey’s wedding, the arrangements for which had been taken in hand by Lady Sylvia. Geoffrey had never realised just how much organisation went into a wedding!
Finally the day dawned.
The small village church was full, with the Hounds and their families, including Odette’s aunt, Lady Farnsworth, plus Baron Setford, as well as all of the staff of both Pendholm Hall and Witherwood Chase, and most of the villagers and tenant farmers. Even Geoffrey’s brother Alfred and his wife had deigned to attend. Geoffrey was darkly amused to discover that his new status as a man of wealth with substantial property appeared to have made him a more acceptable person in his brother’s eyes.
As if any of those things mattered to him. Harriet was what mattered.
It was a day full of laughter and joy, with Harriet having chosen to wear a gown of spring green which set off her eyes, and Geoffrey looking elegant in simple black and white attire.
When the words had been said, and they walked from the church as man and wife, they were met with a cloud of rose petals to rival those that Geoffrey had arranged for Charlton’s wedding. There was a very happy purveyor of hothouse flowers somewhere!
The only slight sad note in the day was Raphael’s absence. It seemed that he had not yet returned from his latest travels. Geoffrey hoped that he might still arrive, before everyone departed in a week’s time, as the Easter season ended.
They all returned to Witherwood Chase, to be served a sumptuous feast and dance in the newly renovated ballroom. Lady Sylvia had settled contentedly in a quiet corner, and was watching the festivities with great satisfaction.
Both of her children wed within a few months of each other, and both so happy – what more could a mother ask for?
At least Geoffrey and Harriet had not been forced to wait, as had Charlton and Odette, by the mourning period for Odette’s father. She was not sure that Harriet’s quicksilver temperament could have produced the patience to wait a year to wed!
She watched the people around her, noting who danced with whom (waltzes were so revealing of people’s feelings…), and whose eyes followed who. There were some interesting possibilities before her – she wouldn’t be at all surprised to see more weddings in the near future.
She was particularly delighted to see Lady Farnsworth dancing with Baron Setford. She rather thought that Lady Farnsworth’s acerbic wit would appeal to Setford, and Lady Farnsworth deserved some companionship.
Also pleasing was seeing Miss Carpenter dancing with Mr Featherstonehaugh, who was cheerful and dapper as usual.
Miss Carpenter had been a patiently long suffering shadow to Harriet for so many years now that Lady Sylvia had been concerned for her future, once Harriet was wed. Perhaps there was nothing to worry about after all.
Setford’s wedding gift to Harriet and Geoffrey had been a quietly delivered missive from the Prince Regent, which thanked them both for their recent actions to protect crown and country, and added a further grant of lands to Geoffrey’s holdings.
He had confirmed that the remaining conspirators had been found and taken, that Jobs had been transported, and that the other two were held in Newgate, awaiting the hangman’s pleasure.
The waltz ended, and Geoffrey swept Harriet out onto the terrace, where the sweet smell of the herbs in the scent garden drifted on the breeze as the Eastertide brought the growth of spring to the world. They stood, watching the stars, his arm holding her close to his side.
His voice was quiet, for her ears only.
“No more missions, no more searching. We can take life as we wish, go anywhere you wish. What do you wish, my darling Harriet?”
She stayed silent, thinking, at peace with the world. When, after some time, she spoke, it was a whisper, but her words were more powerful than a shout.
“It doesn’t matter where we go, or what we do, so long as I can do it with you. Whatever may come, you will always be my hero.”
The End
(You’ll find a taste of book 5, “Enchanting the Duke” just after the ‘About the Author’ section in this book!)
Arietta Richmond has been a compulsive reader and writer all her life. Whilst her reading has covered an enormous range of topics, history has always fascinated her, and historical novels been amongst her favourite reading.
She has written a wide range of work, from business articles and other non-fiction works (published under a pen name) but fiction has always been a major part of her life. Now, her Regency Historical Romance books are finally being released. The Derbyshire Set is comprised of 10 shorter novels (6 released so far). The ‘His Majesty’s Hounds’ series is comprised of 7 novels, with the second having just been released.
She also has a standalone longer novel shortly to be released, and two other series of novels in development.
She lives in Australia, and when not reading or writing, likes to travel, and to see in person the places where history happened.
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His Majesty’s Hounds – Book 5
Sweet and Clean Regency Romance
Arietta Richmond
The County of Berkshire, England – early April 1814
The crisp Spring air carried the last frosts of winter across the bleak countryside and nipped the exposed cheeks of the burly coach driver who steered the stately coach carefully through the wide wrought iron gates and into the grounds of Casterfield Grange. Frost-covered poplars lined the gravelled driveway and groundsmen in warm, long, woollen coats touched their hats in respect as the coach rolled by, wheels clattering on the small pebbles and steam swirling from the backs of the tired horses.
“Finally,” whispered Lady Cordelia Branley, the elder daughter of the Baron whose family had held the noble title of Tillingford for nearly eight hundred years. She pushed her hands deeper into the fox-fur muff that kept her hands protected from the cold and smiled.
“Home at last and we have arrived whilst it is still daylight.”
Her companion (once her governess) tried to smile, but looked tired from the journey. Miss Millpost was a strict and severe spinster of some fifty summers, a woman whose main responsibility was to chaperone the pretty, dark haired seventeen-year old girl, teach her how to run a household as only a good and obedient wife should, and keep her out of mischief. The companion shifted her bony frame on the hard, leather-bound coach seat.
“How may we even know if the sun still exists beyond those dark clouds and the bitter cold? If I don’t have warm tea to revive me, child, I fear I shall expire from the ague!”
Lady Cordelia tried not to laugh, for she knew that Miss Millpost would sooner revive her spirits with a glass or two of her father’s excellent Madeira. She sighed. It felt good to be home once more, and she was more than excited to see her loving father again and her beautiful younger sister, Georgiana.
Ever since their dear mama had died, in a cholera epidemic when Georgiana was only five, and Cordelia seven, Cordelia had tried to assume the role of mother, and she naturally felt deeply protective of her sister. The younger girl often behaved more like a boy and had seemed to prefer playing in the garden and getting herself covered in mud and leaves rather than learning to embroider and excel at the feminine arts. But their father loved them both dearly and indulged them in whatever ways might make them happy.
Despite the constant shadow of their mother’s tragic death, it was still a happy household and a wonderful place to grow up.
Georgiana’s insatiable curiosity had even prompted her father to consider appointing a tutor for his younger daughter and he was weighing the issue in his comfortable library with a pipe of fine Virginia tobacco and glass of good cognac when he heard the carriage wheels and the horses’ hooves approaching the house.
Clouds of hot breath surrounded the horses as they pulled the carriage across the frosted ground and finally slowed to a welcome halt outside the grand entrance portico of Baron Tillingford’s elegant home. Servants hurried to open the carriage door and unfold the steps so that the passengers could alight. They were smiling as Cordelia stepped down, obviously pleased to see her Ladyship safely returned from her journey. They fussed around her, almost ignoring the companion as she struggled to step down without lifting the hem of her heavy skirt and revealing her bony ankles. It was important to observe the correct proprieties at all times, she felt. Especially in front of the servants.
“Papa!” Cordelia cried as she caught sight of her father at the top of the steps. She raced up the broad stone stairs and hugged the Baron, who could barely contain his tears of joy as he held his lovely daughter in his arms and gave thanks for her safe return.
“You look so much like your beloved mama, my dear. How can I look upon you and not see the radiance of her grace and beauty? It warms my heart and cheers my soul!”
The companion coughed loudly behind Cordelia’s back to announce her presence. “Miss Millpost. Well met and welcome back. You must join me in the library for a glass of light refreshment and tell me how went your visit to London.”
Cordelia had not long celebrated her seventeenth birthday and the Baron had finally bowed to pressure from his precious elder daughter and allowed her to visit relatives in London. The Baron’s cousin was an influential woman and a well-known and popular guest in the salons and elegant drawing rooms of London’s high society. Sadly, her husband had died a little more than a year ago, of an apoplexy, and whilst she was well off, she was, it had seemed to the Baron, rather lonely. Cordelia’s visit was a boon for both of them. She had provided the perfect opportunity to introduce Cordelia to the nobility of the nation’s capital.
At seventeen, the Baron was also aware that his daughter would soon be eligible for marriage and that it would do no harm for her pretty face and lovely smile to be seen in the discerning circles of the gentry. The hard fact was that the endless wars with Napoleon had taken far too many young men away from England’s shores to offer their service in His Majesty’s Army and Navy. And too few of them ever came back.
The result was that there simply were not so many young, eligible noblemen around who might come to Baron Tillingford and seek Cordelia’s hand in marriage. Introducing the young woman into London society might possibly draw the attention of a noble young suitor, and then the ageing Baron could rest easier in the knowledge that at least one of his daughters had made a good match. It was all he wanted for his girls. To see them happily married and presiding over a great and noble household.
For, as he sadly had no son to follow him, the Barony, and its entailed estates, would pass to someone else, probably some extremely distant relative, or someone chosen by the King, as he had, to his knowledge, no male relatives to succeed him.
That made it all the more important that his girls be well placed with suitable husbands. He could leave them Casterfield Grange, for it was not entailed, nor were a few other properties he held, including the house in Bath where his great aunt Petrina had lived out her life as a spinster, so their beloved home would still be theirs when he was no longer here to care for them. Still, he wished to see them happy, and married to men of suitable wealth and breeding, as soon as possible.
It wasn’t too much to ask for, but the Baron was aware of his age and his growing infirmity. Time, he felt, was not on his side.
London had been a revelation for the young Lady Cordelia Branley. She’d been thrilled to see the well-dressed young bucks in their expensively-tailored attire, seated around card tables and wagering loudly on the outcome of every hand. Whilst the card rooms at Balls were more commonly frequented by men, and a few of the older ladies, only, Cordelia had begged her hostess for a chance to see what went on.
The games had been exciting to watch and, when one of the young nobles had spied Cordelia and nodded his head at her with a courteous smile, it was all that she could do to contain herself. She’d blushed and the young man had laughed, his carefully-oiled mass of dark curls set off with a black silk ribbon tied in a bow at the back. He’d looked back at the table and roared with delight as he turned the final card and gathered up his winnings. His companions had groaned as they threw their cards on the table and Cordelia had turned to her hostess and asked who the young man might be.
“That is Lord Edward Fitzhugh, second son of the Earl of Bolton, my dear, a fine young man who should be alongside his father in the King’s uniform, fighting the French in Spain. But he prefers to spend his days slug-a-bed and his nights gambling at the card tables and carousing.”
Her hostess’ voice had been severe, quite disapproving, but she refused to say more on the matter.
With her heart beating and her pretty eyes widening, Cordelia was utterly convinced that he was by far the most handsome young man she had seen.
Ever.
~~~~~
To one side of the room, an older gentleman, handsome, elegant and exquisitely p
resented, in attire that was in no way ostentatious, yet spoke, in its every line, of the best tailoring that money could buy, leant against the wall watching the room.
Philip Canterwood, Duke of Rotherhithe, enjoyed a hand of cards, but never gambled with any serious intent. He had just finished a game with some acquaintances, and now simply stood, quietly, watching. The behaviour of men when they gambled intrigued him.
The room was full of extravagantly dressed young fops, eager to display their wealth an unconcern for its loss, hoping, at every turn, to impress the young ladies who watched wide eyed. The fops might not yet wish to be captured into marriage, but they were hungry for a woman’s admiration.
His gaze travelled around the room, alighting on a face he did not know. Beside Lady Mathilde Egremont stood a girl he had never seen before. She was young, and innocent inexperience showed in everything about her. But she was outstandingly beautiful, with rich dark hair, and glowing pale skin. Her lips, currently open in a small gasp, as one of the fops looked her way, were a delightful dark pink that fair begged to be kissed, if one were a man prone to kissing innocents.
Not usually one to be interested in the young girls, barely past childhood, that the mothers of the ton paraded in hopes of snaring a husband, he yet found himself watching this girl closely. Something about her drew him, as if, in some way, she might be different from the others.
He shook his head at his whimsy, and turned back to conversation with some friends, with a last faint wondering at who she might be.
~~~~~
During the following days, Cordelia had conspired with her hostess to attend as many social functions as possible, overtly to meet as many noble ladies and gentlemen as she could but secretly with the hope that she might catch sight, once more, of the dashing Lord Edward Fitzhugh. Her hopes were not in vain.
Many of the great salons offered cards and the sport of wagering on the outcome, a pursuit that might have been reserved for the candlelit interiors of the gentlemen’s clubs, but was widely accepted as a fashionable way to offer entertainment and draw the young bucks into the well-lit reception rooms where eligible young ladies might be viewed and appreciated for their potential as future brides.
Being Lady Harriet's Hero: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 4) Page 11
