Rescuing the Countess: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 13)

by Arietta Richmond

  A parcel addressed to her, and delivered by a man in the livery of one of the most famous jewellers in London. She was almost afraid to open it. She sat in the conservatory of Myniard House, escaping the winter chill for a short while, surrounded by the small number of flowers that the gardeners could convince to bloom, even in winter, in the warmth of the glass enclosed room. Still she shivered. Then she shook herself out of her irrational fear, and began to open the parcel.

  The jewellers box was carved, ornate. But no more ornate than the beautiful necklace revealed when she opened it. She gasped, reaching a careful finger to trace its gems and pearls, all set into an elegant pattern in gold. As she did, her hand brushed the inside of the lid of the box, and a folded and sealed note fell out. She lifted it, and turned it to study the seal.

  Her face paled, and her breath stopped for a moment. It bore Edmund’s seal. How was this possible?

  Shaking, she broke the seal.

  My darling Maria,

  I pray that this gift pleases you, on your birthday. I beg your forgiveness – for so many things. Especially for my weakness, my failure to defend you from my mother. It shames me that I have let things be as they are, for so long.

  But I have begun something that will free us. I have begun work to restore the Dower House, that my mother might move there, and rule her own household, leaving you to rule yours – for it is, and should always have been yours, from the moment I married you.

  Forgive me?

  Edmund.

  Her tears blinded her. He must have arranged this while they were in London, months before. He had, after all, actually loved her. To find out now, so much too late… She sat, and let the tears fall, crying for everything that had happened, from the moment she had met Edmund, for the loss of all her childish illusions, the heartbreak of the way her marriage had been, and the heartbreak of knowing, now, that despite all his faults, her husband had loved her. Loved her, when she had never, truly loved him. Guilt crushed her, and she sobbed harder.

  She had come here to be alone, leaving the others to continue their discussion about who might have set out to injure Edmund, and the footman had met her in the hall, parcel in hand. She was so glad that he had not found her in the parlour, for she needed this time to cry, to grieve. How could she forgive herself?

  A small sound caught her attention, and she lifted her tear streaked face. Concerned hazel eyes met hers, and she flushed, unsure what to do, or say. He came towards her, dropping onto the seat beside her.

  “My Lady… Maria… what is the matter? What has happened to bring you to tears?”

  At his words, the tears flowed harder again, and she turned her face away, one hand clutching the box in her lap until her knuckles were white. Gentle arms enfolded her, pulling her to rest against the hard warmth of his chest. It was too much – she had longed for such a touch, for so long, had cried herself to sleep so often, that now, when she was already distraught, to be held so gently overwhelmed her. She cried, her tears soaking the front of his jacket, cried for everything she had lost, every dream that had been shattered, every cruel word from the Dowager that she had not known how to deal with. And he held her through it all, until, finally, the tears slowed and stopped. For a moment longer, she stayed there, safe in the curve of his arms, before she drew herself up. He released her, allowing her the choice, and waited.

  “I…” she released the box, leaving it lie in her lap, and smoothed the note which was crumpled in her hand. She held it out to him, turning the box so that he might see what it contained. “This. It came inside this box, with this gift.”

  He took the note from her, the passing touch of his fingers on hers sending heat shooting through her, and lifted it to read. She watched his face as he read, watched him then turn his eyes to the beautiful necklace in the box, and met those eyes when they finally returned to her face.

  “It is beautiful, as you are. I can see, from his choice, that he understood what would suit you. It is a pity that he never found the courage, in life, to defy his mother, to allow you to have the marriage you deserved. But at least now you know that he tried, that he had begun work to improve things.”

  “Yes, but… I…” she could not say it, not even to Charles.

  “You never loved him, did you? You accepted his offer, because your parents said it was an excellent match.”

  How did he know? It startled her, that he should, so easily, go to the heart of her sorrow.

  “I did not love him. You are right. And, now that I know that he did love me, to the best of his ability, I feel so guilty, so sad. I wish I had known, while he still lived. I had no idea that he had commissioned work on the Dower House! But now, it is all too late, and worst of all, whilst I grieve for him, for the fact that someone’s terrible actions meant that he died well before his time, I cannot, truly, say that I am sorry that he is gone – for it frees me, in a way. I have the choice, once these accusations are dealt with, to walk away from this place, from the Dowager Countess. I will not need to deal with whatever cousin inherits the title, for I have the choice to return to my parent’s home. Am I a reprehensible person, to feel so?”

  She waited, afraid that he would condemn her for her inappropriate feelings, afraid that this man, whose opinion mattered more to her than anyone’s, she realised, would turn from her. Yet she could not bring herself to lie to him, to pretend to feelings which she did not have. As she watched, he carefully folded the note, and placed it in the box, closing the lid on the beautiful glitter of the necklace.

  His hands sought hers, and he brought her cold fingers to his lips, kissing them gently, his eyes never leaving hers. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with emotion.

  “I would never call you reprehensible. Instead, I think you brave, and I respect you for having the courage to admit to your true feelings, no matter that they are not what society believes they should be. You have, from what I have seen this last week, suffered terribly, not just now, but throughout your marriage. The Dowager is not, from all indications, a pleasant person to live with. I have always thought you beautiful, in soul, not just in body, and nothing will ever change that.”

  His obvious sincerity brought tears to her eyes again. He reached out, cupping her cheek in his palm, his thumb gently brushing the tears aside, and leant forward until his lips met hers. It was the softest, briefest of kisses, yet the warmth that spread from that contact burned through her as if she stood in a bonfire. This, this sensation, was the sort of thing she had dreamed of, when, as a naïve girl, she had imagined love and marriage. That she should feel it now, with this man who she had known all her life, now, when propriety mandated that she spend the next year in mourning, living quietly away from society, was the greatest irony.

  She said nothing, but her eyes clung to his, her heart beating faster. He sat back, his hands now resting in his lap. They were the picture of propriety now. Maria wanted to laugh, in an odd, self-deprecating way, so impossible did her situation seem. Charles, having allowed himself to look away, was still, staring into the distance. She had seen him like this before – he was thinking, worrying at some problem – her? Or something else? She did not know. She simply waited.

  After some minutes he spoke.

  “Maria… in this note Edmund mentions beginning to repair the Dower House – which means that he had begun that long before his accident, before you came to London for Hunter’s wedding, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, that must be so, for him to mention it here.”

  He nodded, as if she had just confirmed some significant thing, then after lifting her hand to his lips, and pressing a gentle kiss to her palm, he rose, bowed, and turned to go.

  “I will return as soon as I can.”

  ~~~~~

  Charles strode from the conservatory, his mind in turmoil. She had allowed him a kiss! However fleeting, however inappropriate, she had allowed it. He wanted far more than that one soft kiss. The feel of her in his arms as she had cried bitter te
ars had left him wanting to hold her forever, to soothe away her distress, to keep her safe. He could not, not yet, for, no matter what they both might come to wish, what he most desperately hoped they would come to wish, he could do nothing obvious until her year of mourning was over.

  But, the seemingly minor detail of the repair of the Dower House, contained in Edmund’s note which had come with the necklace, had begun a very different chain of thought in his mind, when combined with the Dowager’s ravings at the funeral, which were branded in his memory, and the eccentric ramblings of Lady Fremont, just that morning.

  For Lady Fremont had mentioned the Dower House on Myniard Park, and strange comings and goings. Charles had disregarded her spiritualist assertion that there were ghosts – and now, just perhaps, another explanation presented itself. An explanation which, if true, would be the key to proving that Maria had not intended her husband any harm.

  Fifteen minutes later, Charles, Hunter and Kevin were ahorse, and on their way to the old Dower House.

  Chapter Twelve

  Maria sat for some time after Charles had gone, her fingers gently touching her lips, her mind reeling with the possibilities which flowed from that kiss. Perhaps her life was not so bleak as she had thought. Perhaps, once her year of mourning was done, there was a chance for happiness. She should not put so much freight of hope upon one kiss, yet she could not stop herself. In the end, she wiped the last traces of tears from her face, and gathering up the box, went to her rooms. It was time that she joined the others again, and got on with life.

  Half an hour later, feeling far more hopeful about life in general, she entered the parlour, to find her parents and Nerissa talking.

  “I don’t know, these young men, haring off after some idea, with barely a moment’s notice. All too energetic for me!”

  Lord Chester sipped a brandy, and shook his head. Maria had to assume that he spoke of Charles, Hunter, and Kevin, for they were absent from the room.

  “Where have they gone, Father?”

  “I’ve no idea – they didn’t even wait to explain. Rash, too rash, still, age will calm them down eventually.”

  Maria simply nodded, and dropped onto the couch beside Nerissa – there really wasn’t much she could say in response. She pulled her embroidery from the basket she had left there earlier, and tried to focus her attention on the quality of her stitches. That proved far more difficult than usual, as the question of where the men had gone nagged at her. When she had almost given up on her needlework, the door opened, without even a knock, and a sharp voice destroyed the last of her concentration.

  “How disappointing. I had hoped that all of the unwelcome guests would have departed by now. It seems I must still share my home with the faithless strumpet and her relatives. Mark my words, you will pay for your deeds – do not think, for a moment, that I will ever relent.”

  The Dowager stood in the room, glaring at everyone. Maria found herself shaking – with both fear and anger. Lord Chester carefully placed his brandy glass on the side table and stood, drawing himself up to his most imposing.

  “Whatever you may believe, my Lady, nothing justifies your rudeness, nor your wholly inappropriate treatment of my daughter. I will thank you to remember that, and keep a civil tongue in your head. I respect your grief, but it is not an excuse for these baseless and vicious accusations.”

  “Are you accusing me of lying? How dare you! I will not stay to be spoken to like this.”

  She turned, and stormed out of the room. There was stunned silence. After a moment, Nerissa stifled a laugh.

  “Oh dear, what an unpleasant woman she is! But… I have formed the impression that no one has ever defied her, or challenged her words and manner, and she does not cope with it well at all. Is that the way of it Maria?”

  “Yes, dear sister, I believe you have the right of it. Sadly, my husband never really stood up to her, and I, I am ashamed to admit, did not have the strength to argue, day after day.”

  Nerissa nodded.

  “Then I am quite certain that she will not enjoy the next few weeks, for I cannot imagine that we can, or will, permit her to continue in this manner. And once we have proved your innocence, you can leave here, and never see that terrible woman again.”

  “I hope that you are right, that we can prove her wrong, soon, for I fully admit that I will not regret leaving this place, never to return.”

  “I believe that we are all in agreeance with that sentiment.”

  Lady Chester’s voice was soft, but carried, very clearly, her loathing for the situation.

  ~~~~~

  The grooms had provided directions to the old Dower House, and they soon saw it, amongst the trees in the distance, once they came out of the trail through the woods.

  The day was clear, but clouds were rolling in as the afternoon progressed – there would likely be more snow that night. Their horses’ hooves crunching on the snow were the only sounds in the clearing that surrounded the dilapidated building. Charles slipped to the ground, and walked forward, closely examining the area, and the walls of the place.

  The recent repairs to some of the stonework were obvious, but the work was equally obviously incomplete, no doubt stopped for the duration of winter. On the other side of the building there was what had once been a gravelled drive, which led past one side to a very much unrepaired stable. They left their horses tethered in the meagre shelter, and turned back to the Dower House itself.

  “Exactly what are we looking for, Charles?”

  Kevin had been very willing to be pulled out of the house, and into action, but curiosity was eating at him.

  “I’m not sure. But, if I’m correct, we’ll find signs of men, other than the stonemasons, having been here, perhaps of people having camped here, or even goods stored here.”

  “And why would we find that?”

  “Well, I may be drawing a very long bow here, but it’s the only even vaguely likely idea I’ve come up with. We wanted a reason for someone to want Lord Granville injured or dead. And there was simply nothing. But what I have discovered today, when taken in conjunction with the Dowager’s ravings at the funeral, has provided a possible explanation. Highwaymen.”

  “Highwaymen? What on earth has that to do with any of it? And with this house?”

  “Let me give you the facts, as I know them. Old Lady Fremont, who I met quite by accident in the town this morning, is a close neighbour. She’s obsessed with studying the stars, and her neighbours, through her telescope, which is installed on top of that old tower over there, on her property.” Charles pointed at the top of an old stone tower, where it rose above the treetops. “She claims that tower, and this house, are haunted. That she sees dark figures going in and out of here at evening, and strange lights. I thought her simply eccentric, until I remembered the Dowager’s mention of highwaymen. Then I wondered if there were actual highwaymen, who needed a place to hide away, and to hide the items they stole.”

  “Hmmm, that seems feasible – but what has that to do with Lord Granville’s death, and proving Maria innocent?”

  “This morning a parcel was delivered to Myniard House, for Maria. It was a birthday gift, that her husband had arranged, months ago when they were in London, and it came with a note in his hand. A note in which, amongst other things, he told her that he was having the Dower House repaired, that he might cause his mother to move here, and allow Maria to finally rule her own home.”

  “Again, what has that to do with Lord Granville’s death?”

  “Well… if this has been used by highwaymen as a secret place to hide – themselves and their ill-gotten gains – then they would not be best pleased by him wanting to get it repaired and get his mother living here, would they? How far would they go, to save themselves from discovery, and the hangman’s noose, once they knew what he planned?”

  “Well reasoned!”

  Hunter looked approvingly at his brother, as Kevin thought it all through.

  “So, you think
that the highwaymen discovered what my sister’s husband was doing, and, in desperation to save themselves from discovery, they took action to stop him, in the most absolute way?”

  “That is exactly what I think. But if we find no evidence of them here, or in the cellars of old Lady Fremont’s tower, then all of my reasoning will be for naught – we won’t be able to prove anything. So I want to search the place.”

  Both Kevin and Hunter nodded.

  “Let’s be about it then.”

  Kevin went to move towards the house.

  “Wait.”

  Hunter looked around him, studying the once gravelled drive where they stood.

  “For a place that has been long abandoned, and only seen a small number of stonemason’s men recently, this drive is a churn of uneven surfaces – it shows mud and ruts more like a carter’s yard, as if many carts have been in and out of here recently – so perhaps you are right. Let’s hope that what is inside confirms it.”

  They went inside, studying everything around them, and set about searching every part of the house. It was obvious how beautiful a residence it had once been, and how sad a condition it had fallen to. It was also obvious that others had been there recently – muddy footprints on marble, food scraps in the kitchen and more.

  But nothing to conclusively prove it any more than the stonemasons at work. Until they reached the cellars. The first was empty, but at its rear, they discovered a partly obscured door which led into further rooms. Rooms which were full of an odd assortment of items, all of significant worth, jumbled together in boxes and bags. No legitimate house would store priceless jewellery and weaponry in a jumble in the cellar – this had to be contraband.

  “Don’t disturb it. Leave it as close to exactly as we found it as possible. We mustn’t let them realise that we’ve been here.”

  “Good thinking, Charles. I assume that you want us to set a watch on the place, and be ready to apprehend them, when they return?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s hope that’s not too far in the future, then. I have a growing abhorrence for this place.” Hunter looked at the clutter of valuables before them with distaste. “Let’s be away back to Myniard House then, and get that arranged, making sure that we’ve covered our tracks here well. That snow laden cloud will serve us well, by covering the horses’ tracks if we’re lucky.”