The Revenge of the Betrayed Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “Like a knight-errant with his lady’s favour,” Edward said with a wry smile as he took the locket, “I do not need a locket to remember you, Emily, but I will keep it near my heart always.”

  Emily shook her head at the man, her heart full of her love for him and also aching for the loss of him. “Favours are really more for the one giving them rather than the ones receiving,” she said simply.

  Edward stood up, and Emily stood with him. She put her hand gently on his arm, and Edward watched her with eyes that seemed to be searching for something. Emily stilled as Edward leaned over to brush his lips against hers. It was the lightest of touches and lasted such a brief moment. Yet, the touch left Emily’s head awhirl with thoughts and her heart with feelings.

  “I should go,” Edward said softly as if he were out of breath. But how could he be? Emily pondered the thought then realized Edward was leaving.

  All at once, Emily grabbed the man’s coat much as she had when they were children. “Come back to me,” Emily said. She was unaware of whether she was begging him to come back to her in that instant or telling him to come back from the war safely. She just knew that she wanted Edward to return.

  Edward gave her a smile that was as dashing as its owner. “I promise,” Edward said, and then the man was gone. Emily felt like running after him but restrained herself. She would not be one of those women who flailed around the floor and screamed as if they were being tortured. No, she would be the woman her mother had raised and not embarrass her family even if she felt like she would die as she sat down again heavily on the wooden bench behind her.

  ***

  Edward despised himself deep down for leaving Emily upset, but he had to remain focused. He had to go and meet the boys soon. It would do him little good to be wet around the eyes when he saw them. They would give him no quarter with their sharp tongues if they perceived his softness on the matter.

  The wind outside swept across the English countryside bringing with it the smells of wood smoke and the sweet, fermented smell of leaves decaying underfoot. Edward wondered what would await him in France and how long it would be before he smelled the sweet air as he walked up those steps again. Edward’s eyes glanced back at the house with its large stone steps.

  The doorman gave Edward a nod which Edward returned. He must look frightfully silly dallying around in the driveway. Edward took a deep breath and hoisted himself astride his horse. He clicked his tongue and gave the horse a gentle nudge with his boot to set the stallion to trotting. It was not far from here to London, but he still would need to make good time not to be late.

  The countryside going by along the roadside lulled Edward into a stupor, allowing his thoughts to wander. Soon 1812 would be at an end. The New Year would find Edward and his fellows in France. The thought of what that might mean more than anything sent a shiver down Edward’s spine that he would never admit was there.

  A carriage coming along the road toward Edward slowed to allow him to maneuver around them on the country lane. Edward recognized it at once and gave the driver a friendly lift of his hand which the man returned with a smile. As Edward came alongside the carriage, he heard a familiar baritone voice.

  “Lord Dalton, I would have thought you were readying to embark upon your hero’s journey,” Sir Daventry said with an amused smile. Edward pulled up on the reins and brought the horse to a stop as Sir Daventry spoke. Sir Daventry looked over towards his home and then asked, “Have you been to call upon my daughter then?”

  Edward dipped his head. “Yes, Sir,” Edward said respectfully. Sir Daventry, Emily’s father, always seemed to have a smile upon his lips. It was a peculiar trait of the man that Edward both admired and was amused by.

  “I trust care was taken,” Sir Daventry said. The look the man gave Edward held a protectiveness that Edward did not often see from the man.

  Edward patted the horse’s shoulder to calm him as the horse grew restless. He assured Sir Daventry, “I was a gentleman.” Edward cleared his throat and said, “I fear she is upset with me still.”

  Sir Daventry sighed and leaned back in his carriage seat. “My daughter is a stubborn one sometimes, but she loves you dearly. That much I do know.”

  “And I love her,” Edward said with a sad smile. “I asked for her hand.”

  Sir Daventry’s smile grew wider. “About time that you did,” the man said with a chuckle. “Be safe, Lord Dalton. We all expect you home.”

  “I shall do my best, Sir,” Edward said earnestly.

  Chapter 2

  James Winchester, son of the Earl of Hanley, leaned against the stone wall that bordered the garden. He had come to call on Emily before he met up with the others, but apparently, Edward had beaten James to it. A frown settled on James’ face as he watched Emily sit down in the pavilion again.

  If she had just looked a bit to her left, she might have even spied James beside the gate, but Emily never really saw James. They had all grown up together, James, Emily, Edward, and their other friends. Yet, Emily had only had eyes for Edward.

  James turned and went to get his horse from where he had left it. Part of him had hoped that Edward might stay home, even if he did not wish the man any closer to Emily. The very idea that Edward might show a bit of cowardice set James’ course. Yet, Edward had not even flinched at the idea of leaving Emily.

  There had been some hope that Emily might see Edward as James saw him finally. Yet, there the fool girl was promising herself to Edward. James scowled as he pulled himself up into the saddle. He patted the brown mare as he thought to himself that at least now there was a chance that perhaps Edward would die in the war. Surely Emily could not prefer a dead man over James, after all.

  He had only ridden a short piece when he ran into Oscar Turlington, one of their group of friends. “Ah,” Oscar called as he rode up to James, “I see that I am not the only one running behind.”

  “Yes, I went by to give my regards to Emily, but found her otherwise engaged and thought better of it,” James said as he eyed Oscar’s coat. “Are those stripes?”

  Oscar looked down at his overcoat and shrugged. “I suppose they might be,” Oscar said in amusement. “What do you have on yours? Ruffles?”

  James chuckled. “And petticoats aplenty,” he said with a smile. “I am glad you are going, Oscar. I would hate to think that I was stuck on this adventure with just Edward and Augustus.”

  “That would be a horrid fate,” Oscar agreed. “Augustus is a good enough chap; he just tries a bit too hard.”

  James nodded. “Yes, and Edward is a fine fellow; he just cannot see past his highbrow to see how the world really is.”

  “Bet he will get quite a shock when he realizes that his titles here will mean precious little there,” Oscar said.

  They rode along in companionable silence. James looked over at Oscar, and he saw a bit of worry in the man’s face. “What troubles you, Oscar?”

  “We are going off to war, James. What does not trouble you about that?” Oscar looked over at James, and James could see the apprehension fully displayed on Oscar’s face.

  James nodded. “I suppose that I do not mind leaving home. My father certainly did not mind when I told him I was going,” James said sourly. “Got everything squared with your father then?”

  “Oh yes,” Oscar said with a nod. “He is rather proud of me for choosing to enlist even though we cannot afford a commission.”

  James said with a grin, “You have myself and Edward to look after you, though. We will do our best to see that you are treated fairly.”

  “A couple of fine captains looking out for my well-being,” Oscar said with a light laugh. “I feel as well kept as a mistress in the padded bedroom of a diplomat.”

  The two of them enjoyed a laugh and then lapsed into silence as they rode onward towards London. Despite what James had said to Oscar, there was a ball of lead in James’ stomach at the thought of going to war. To actually kill or die was one thing to read about, but quite another
to experience. They were not knights of old, and the enemy would not have mere swords.

  ***

  “Thought I was going to be here by my lonesome,” Augustus Milford said with what sounded like relief as James and Oscar came into the tavern where they had agreed to meet and share a drink before going to meet their collective fate.

  Oscar chortled with laughter. “I do believe Augustus is afraid to be alone.”

  “Much like how he used to hide behind his mother’s skirts when we played as children,” James said as he pulled out a wooden chair and sat down at Augustus’ table.

  Augustus did not look well-pleased to have such things brought up. The man shook his head. “Shall I never outlive that youthful folly?”

  “No one ever outlives anything,” James reminded Augustus.

  Oscar agreed, “Right. Like James here, he will probably die of the bottle or women.”

  “Too right,” Augustus said as he lifted his mug of beer in a salute.

  James chuckled good-naturedly. Let them take their sport of him; he knew he was their better. “Careful boys, or I might not bring you along on those sordid adventures.”

  “Or invite us to those lovely society gatherings that we otherwise could not procure invitations to,” Oscar said with a grin. “Such lovely ladies at those society doings.”

  “Now that I will toast,” Augustus said with an earnest fervour.

  James leaned back in his chair. “Speaking of toasts, we seem to be lacking in service.” James looked around and saw a slip of a girl setting a drink down on a table nearby. “Darling,” James called coaxingly. He put on his best smile as the girl looked over at him warily. “Could we get something to drink before we dry up and blow away?”

  “I suppose you can,” the girl said with a soft, lilting accent that James thought was probably Irish.

  After the girl had left, James said to his fellows, “A sweet Irish lass, gentlemen.”

  “You will not be making her an Irish beauty, James,” Augustus said as he raised his mug back to his lips. “She seems a decent little lass.”

  James pursed out his lips and sighed. “I have but a few hours before I am shipped off to fight, and you will not even indulge me this one small thing, Augustus?”

  Oscar stretched out his legs and groaned, “My legs are sore.”

  “Oh, you will make a fine soldier,” James teased.

  Oscar scowled. “I never said I was made for such things. Yet, if it will make my father proud, then I will do it.”

  “My father wants me to look around for trade while I am fighting,” August scoffed. He looked over at James. “You reckon Edward is coming? He is awfully late.”

  James nodded and frowned. “He will come.”

  “Seems as if you would like it better if he did not come at all,” Augustus said.

  James opened his mouth to speak but spotted the barmaid making her way over to them with two mugs for himself and Oscar. She approached the table with a wary smile and placed the mugs down gingerly. “Your drinks, gentlemen,” she said.

  “What is your name?” James asked before the girl could leave.

  The barmaid shook her head as she held the tray under one arm. “I thought you might be the rogue of the group,” she said with a knowing glint in her eyes. “My name is Rosalyn, and what might your name be?”

  James grinned. “She has cheek this one.”

  The girl raised an eyebrow at James. “You can ask my name, but I cannot ask yours? Have I offended my betters then?”

  James was quite amused by the girl, and he shrugged. “I am James,” he said.

  “Oi, just James then?” the barmaid asked. “Thought you might be a Lord. I am terribly disappointed.”

  Augustus chuckled and patted the table with his hand. “Oh he is a Lord, but we are all off to battle soon.”

  The girl looked over at James curiously. “Is that so, Your Lordship?”

  “It is,” James said with false humility.

  Rosalyn smiled at the man. “Are you to fight at sea or in France?”

  “France,” James said with a shrug.

  Rosalyn seemed intrigued now. The older man behind the counter eyed the barmaid with a frown, but James looked over at the man. He quickly went back to scrubbing the counter. James smiled at the girl.

  “Better be careful, the navy might just impress you into service,” Rosalyn said lightly.

  James chuckled. “That is the way the Americans would have everyone see it.” He shook his head. “We are more concerned with fighting Napoleon than the dull Americans.”

  “He is a frightful one,” the girl said with a frown.

  James assured her, “We will do our best.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help your journey?” Rosalyn asked the question with a smile.

  James looked over at Oscar and Augustus who were watching him intently. James conceded with a nod. “There might be.” He stood up, and the girl gave him a slight tilt of her head to tell James to follow her. “Await my return, boys,” James said to Oscar and Augustus. “Do not let Edward wax on too long about Emily when he gets here. He might just lose his nerve.”

  “We will set the man straight,” Oscar assured James.

  James nodded with a smile and followed the slim Irish girl to the stairs that led upstairs to a set of rooms that they boarded out. He glanced around at Oscar and Augustus who still looked after James in disbelief. James chuckled to himself and turned his attention squarely back on the beauty leading him up the stairs.

  ***

  When Edward finally arrived at the tavern where he had agreed to meet Augustus, Oscar, and James, he stood outside the door for a long moment. Part of him wanted to just return home, but his honour would not let him. It would do little good to delay the inevitable. Yet, Edward stood and stared at that wooden door as if it would carry him to another time and place, a fate filled with sorrow, and he chided himself for the fanciful thought.

  Edward opened the heavy door and squinted a bit as his eyes adjusted. He spied Augustus and Oscar at a table. He lifted his hand and walked over to them. “Fine day to head to war, chaps?” Edward asked with a measure of bravado that he did not feel deep in his bones.

  “Oh yes,” Oscar agreed with a nod of his head. “Come and have a drink with us.”

  Edward frowned as he sat down. “Not fond of the idea of travelling while deep in my cups,” he said honestly.

  “You will die of thirst if you do not drink something,” Augustus said in mimicry of a motherly tone.

  Edward snorted with laughter. “Thank you kindly, Madam, for your concern.” They all laughed, and Edward relented. “I think I will have some beer. It would be better not to have my throat cracked with dust.”

  “May have to go to the bar,” Oscar said with a grin. “I fear James has the barmaid a bit busy.”

  Edward scowled. “Does he really think that appropriate at a time like this?”

  “Hardly any better time than this to have a bit of fun,” Augustus said with a shrug.

  Oscar chimed in, “I do believe the Reverend Dalton is about to admonish us for our sins.”

  Edward shook his head. Oscar and Augustus were good at heart, but too easily swayed by the illusion of glittering gold that made the aristocracy look so appealing. Edward could not convince them that the upper crust was filled with empty chatter and eager ears.

  “He can do as he wishes; I just think it ill-timing,” Edward said to dismiss the matter. He stood up and went to the bar.