"Your Grace?" His harsh command started his valet. The poor man jumped out of his skin and looked at his lordship with fear.
Robert was not in the mood to be kindly. The ache in his chest demanded relief. "Have this coach turned around this instant," he ordered again. His voice was less gravelly.
"Ah..." His valet continued to blink, his mouth opening and closing without a sound and looked at him as if he was a man possessed.
"Do not continue your stuttering, my good man, and have the groom turn the horses around," he ground out with a pointed look.
Giles recovered quickly. "But if course, Your Grace. But where are we going?"
He informed the man with a certain kind of gravity in his voice. "We are returning to Mossford." And truthfully the matter was beyond grave.
The valet nodded, a bit of his lip color returning as he knocked at the box seat. The carriage stalled and he opened the door and had a word with the groom. That done he returned to his seat. The groom drove his horse neatly around and made back for where they had started.
"Your Grace..." he started after moments of careful deliberation.
"What is it, Giles?" His voice was easier now. He knew he had done the right thing.
"If I may be so bold to ask, what is the nature of the business driving you back to the estate? You set out for London in quite a haste." It was a bold question, but Robert was not feeling particularly formal at the moment.
He answered with a cool manner. "I have forgotten a rather important thing."
"And this thing is..."
"My wife."
Chapter Seventeen
The groom had gone about his job in a grudging manner that had incensed her beyond reason.
Simmons no doubt was displeased. When she had mounted, his disapproval was rife, but she denied him a reaction and adjusted her skirts until she was decent. As decent as one could hope to be riding astride a stallion. Satisfied, she grabbed the reins on the horse and urged him into a canter. The stallion neighed and took off with hard speed, thundering down the line where Robert’s carriage had passed in the morning. She had navigated the garden rows to cut short the time. It was dangerous to ride at that speed in the branching small paths, but she wanted this, needed this.
Riding fast with the wind whipping through her hair, she headed for the end of the driveway. She swung the horse around in a practiced move and he responded quickly with the lightest of touch with the reins and her foot nudging at his side. She turned into the dusty lane and spurred the horse with a renewed speed. She gave him his head, letting the reins lax in her hands. He beat a flat-out wild pace for London, in the direction Robert had gone.
The scenery was a blur, or almost so, at her speed. The morning crowd stood up to witness the beast eating the ground at a magnificent pace. One could not catch the face of the rider, but the billowing skirts said it was a lady. Light traffic occurred on the road, but Amelia did not slacken her pace. It was not wise perhaps, but speed was better. And she needed the passing miles, rushing beneath the hooves of her stallion, to comfort her. The power of the horse between her thighs, the wind against her skin, and her target growing closer and closer, with each inch covered she was soothed.
She almost went down once on the rough country road, but she held the horse up and he was strong and gallant. She reined him in and lowered his pace to a quick trot when they almost went down a second time. The town gradually turned to fields but the roads were somewhat improved. Here there was no traffic and her fears eased. She slowed to a trot for the horse to recover. The Arabian stallion snorted as she patted him, murmuring her praise as he arched his neck with pride. It steamed in the morning air. It pained her to slow her pace, but she wanted her horse alive. A copse of trees shadowed the road ahead and she headed into them. There should be a stream where the horse could drink nearby.
At the next inn she would trade in her horse for another. It pained her to do so, but he was lathered or would be if she demanded another bust of speed from him. She would have the innkeeper return him to the stables and she would have a fresher horse for her journey. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she had not eaten a thing, but she was a woman driven. Even the thought of sitting down to sup held little appeal.
The horse picked its way into the cool area while Amelia was preoccupied. She did not catch the furtive movements in the shadows. Suddenly a figure bolted out of the darkness. The long coat was black and shabby. His hat was pulled low over the face and a kerchief covered his mouth nose and ears so that only his eyes remained, glinting with an unholy light in the relative gloom.
Amelia took it all in with a sudden rush of fear that froze her on the horse. She had not feared for highwayman men when she had stepped out, but now she was accosted by one. Gentlemen did not lurk in the shadowed roads dressed mysteriously enough to strike fear in the passing traveller. She did not see a pistol but that mattered very little. She was only a woman riding on a horse alone.
"Stand and deliver!" The shout rent the air. Her horse, startled by the shout, suddenly reared with a loud neigh, both forefeet off the ground and snorting in fear. The opposite horse and his rider had come seemingly out of the darkness. The sudden motion threw Amelia out of her seat and onto the ground. Her last sight as darkness spiralled in was the sight of her stallion attempting to kick the highwayman.
Chapter Eighteen
The four horses performed admirably. In no time the carriage had thundered past the toll gate and farther back. Suddenly they were at the shadowed copse of trees. A horse galloped wildly through the meadows and patches of trees with its rider hunched over it. The man wore a long coat with his hat drawn low over his brow. The rest of his features were hidden in his flight. A sudden realisation hit him. He must be a highwayman, spurred to flee by the sound of a carriage cantering down the street. It could only mean one thing. There was a victim in that copse of trees that had been relieved of his valuables.
"Stop the coach," he ordered sharply.
“Your Grace?”
"Stop the coach this instant!" Giles nodded, his pallor heightened in the sudden gloom. A rap at the box seat and the groom reined in his horses.
Robert knew his two outriders were armed, though they would save their single shot for a direct threat to his person. He took his pistols stashed by the door and kicked the carriage door open. At the sudden sound Giles jumped but Robert barely paid him a mind. Outside, he stepped to the ground, his eyes adjusting to the increase in sunlight. An outrider approached him, clearly on full alert. The trees around them could conceal any numbers of enemies and the road bent in both directions. One could not see very far what was coming or going. Apart from the singing birds and the raucous crows there was no sound. They could not expect a lot of traffic to pass them by, but still the groom stopped the carriage far to the side to the road.
“Your Grace, Albert gave the highwayman chase, but we don't know what's past the bend of the road.” Caution was advised in the words and Lord Windon nodded curtly. He didn’t return to the relative safety of the carriage but continued on foot where he seemed to have heard a sound. The outrider dismounted and followed him.
Suddenly one of the horses called and there was an answering neigh from across the bend in the road. Robert quickened his pace, that sounded like something familiar. The sight of the horse dancing frantically around a piece of yellow clothing on the ground chilled his blood. He handed his pistols to the man behind him and reached for the reins of the nervous horse. He moved in a calm, unassuming manner towards the horse who shied once. Twice he danced away, but finally the stallion allowed his reins to be caught at the third attempt.
The figure on the ground still lay prone and fear chilled his innards. The rider was clearly a female, no man would be willing to wear that shaded of infernally cheerful yellow. Many dandies of London would, he corrected, but this was far from their usual haunt and the sprawl of clothing indicated a gown.
He handed the reins over to the outriders and mov
ed closer to the figure. As he bent the smell of lemons assailed his nose. Gads! Was every woman to haunt him with the likeness and affectations of Amelia? He shook his head to clear it, but the scent remained, growing stronger as he reached for the prone body. He didn't see the face clearly in the dark but he realised with a shock that he knew the form. His hands had traced the slight flare of her hips only once, but he could never forget it.
“Amelia!” His voice was hoarse with fear. He cradled her head and the legs, lifting her from the ground. Closer he could see the clear skin, the cupid lips, the eyebrows calm in repose and her eyes closed. She was not breathing. Her chest did not stir to draw air into her lungs and at the place his hand cupped her head he could feel a knot forming.
In that moment, Robert tasted death. It was a there, a deluge that threatened to drown him. The sharp shards that scrapped his throat were metallic and hard. It was worse, much worse than the idea of living without her love. It scraped his flesh like a sharp claw, the heavy burden choking and squeezing his chest, pulling the air from his very lungs. She couldn’t be dead.
"Amelia! Amelia! Wake up! Can you hear me?" Urgency filled him.
There were so many ways to die. Her horse had clearly thrown her, spooked by the appearance of the highwayman.
"You can't die! Do you hear me! You can't die. I was coming back to see you. Oh, why couldn't you wait? Wake up!" he insisted with increasing fear.
He shook the prone figure then turned to his man. “Take your horse and ride into the village. Head straight for Mossford. The physician is likely there.” He turned back to the figure in his arms.
"Wait Amelia. Hold on for me. Do you hear?" he pleaded with her as he crouched over the prone figure. The figure sighed once, a long, drawn out breath. The outrider paused with one foot in the stirrup. In that shadowed bend of the road the sound was loud, as loud as the crack of a gun.
"Robert?" Her voice was almost a whisper.
"Amelia! Can you hear me?" The relief made his voice even more hoarse.
He eyelids twitched. Finally, the green eyes focused on him in a daze. "Robert? All of London can hear you."
He chuckled dryly and pulled her even closer. "Are you all right?"
His hand cupped the knot and, even though his touch was gentle, she grimaced. "I'll be fine."
"But are you fine right now? Are you wounded?" He refused to be appeased by the play on words, his fear was too present.
"Only the knot in my head and my pride," she informed him sheepishly with a small smile.
"You got off lightly. Your horse threw you off." His voice was calmer now. She couldn’t very well be dying if she was smiling.
"He was spooked by the highwayman. How..."
"I was returning and he raced past us. One of my outriders gave chase," he explained to her.
"You returned—for me?" Her husky voice shot straight to his groin. He shook his head to dislodge the haze of desire and relief creeping up on him.
"I came to find you," he continued.
"You did?" The words whispered with—hope? She raised the hand lying on the ground to him. It reminded him of her actions in the gamekeeper’s lodge in the morning. This time he leaned into it, careless of the dust.
"I came to a realisation..." he started but the horse neighed again. Robert turned to realise his outrider still lingered. He drew her to her feet and turned, “Take your horse and ride for Mossford. Have the physician wait for us. Inform Lord Rochester of what has happened," he ordered.
"Papa will be worried. I saddled a horse and rode out." Amelia drew his attention back to her.
"Leave the Arabian and tell the groom to come forward." He turned back to Amelia and said, "Let us be free from the gloom of this location."
Without a word to prepare her, he hefted her weight into his arms with a smooth move. With a care he cradled her head against his chest. He walked out of the shadows into the beckoning sunlight at the other side of the trees. Somehow the horse knew to follow. The jingle of bridle and bits followed them. At the other side, Amelia insisted on getting on her feet. He obliged her but stayed close to her in case she started to sway in a faint.
“Robert...”
“Amelia...”
“I love you.”
The words startled him, knocked control cleanly out of his hands and had him gaping at the situation. He gaped at her in shock, unwilling to credit the words he had just heard. Impossible. She tried to turn away and he suddenly grabbed her hand and dragged her back to him.
"Say it again," he demanded.
This time she looked into his face. Her green eyes focused with a depth of sincerity and emotion that could easily bring him to his knees as she repeated, "I love you, Robert."
"I love you too, Amelia. I couldn't bear to have us part the way we did. I was turning back to tell you, to erase our shabby goodbye. And I wanted to be with you, even if I had to convince you for the rest of my life I was not going to leave without you.”
"Robert..." The sound of the carriage filtered to them. Robert stopped her words by putting one finger against her lips.
He removed his hand and kissed her. A mere brush of warm lips that eased one hunger and woke another. "It'll keep."
He turned with instructions to the groom. “Continue on to the estate. We will return at a more leisurely pace.” He wanted time with her. Days, weeks, even many, many years. He was loath to even share her with anyone.
The coach continued on, and after a while only the two of them and the horse remained on the road, the outrider having ridden on. Robert caught the black stallion and helped her mount. After adjusting her skirts as decently as possible he mounted after her and she leaned into him.
"I love you, Amelia," he whispered to her.
"I love you too, Robert," she returned softly.
"I shall never tire of hearing you say it," he vowed.
"I shall never fail to tell you again," she promised him. Then she tensed. "We came so close to..."
"No, love. Do not dwell on that. It is past now," he admonished. She leaned back into him. "How did you come to be accosted by a highwayman?"
"I missed you."
"Wife." The growl so close to her ear wreaked havoc with her senses. She bit down on her lips to contain her gasp.
"Husband." She returned with an impish grin he couldn’t see. Then she sobered. "I thought on us when you left, and I found I couldn't bear to be parted from you. I raced to come and tell you. Also, I couldn't bear to have our argument as our parting words."
"I couldn't bear it myself," he admitted.
"I love you, Robert. I have been a fool. I refused to admit this truth even to myself. I was too embroiled in my crusade against the world and I almost lost you."
"I am here now,” he soothed, “and I am never letting you go. Not without me at your side always," he vowed lightly.
“And I by your side always. It is my wifely duty," she returned.
"Duty?" A cold dread trickled down his spine.
She hurried to explain. "I accused you of knowing only that..."
"It hurt me to the quick when you spoke of it," he admitted, still unsure.
"I confess, I sought to hurt you. I loved you, but you claimed our marriage was a duty to your child," she continued.
"I was a fool. I couldn't understand the feelings brewing in me. I must confess now that it was my pleasure," he returned softly.
"’Twas my pleasure too,” she answered. Her hand flexed against his own.
"Our pleasure, beloved, our pleasure.” He squeezed it.
As the two continued to hash out their feelings the horse was allowed to pick its own way it plodded along the road. The horse promptly lost a sense of direction so that when the two of them came to a realisation of their surrounding they felt completely lost. The horse stood in front of a chapel. The cross in front sparked a memory in her.
"’Tis the chapel in our lands," she offered.
"Thank God. I thought us lost." He didn’t s
ound too worried.
Robert looked from her to the chapel and dismounted from the horse. He helped her alight and, when she was steady, he captured her hands.
"Marry me, Amelia."
"But I have, Your Grace.” Her smile was mischievous.
"No, marry me now in this chapel. Be my wife in every sense of the word." He was serious.
“Now?" She felt shock.
"You said you wanted only me. And you have me," he reminded her softly.
"Truly?" She was surprised.
"For all of eternity," he affirmed.
She nodded and answered with little cries of, "Yes, yes."
“It is settled then." Then he pulled her into a kiss.
Epilogue
Amelia flourished in the familiar surroundings and under the devotion of her husband who was even more enamored of his bride than he was when he had courted her.
She often wondered if his love was as large as hers. Often times the emotions in her breast would choke her and leave her languid under the realization she had indeed found heaven. She blushed at her thought. It was most unkind of her to think him incapable of such depths of emotion because Society had deemed men incapable. They shamed society in their obvious love, devotion and physical longing for each other. Theirs would always be a meeting of like minds with the heart in close pursuit.
However, the household was scandalised that the Duke and his bride would not keep separate rooms, even when she was expecting. They were already most unconventional in that they showed their love even in company of others and were clearly besotted with each other. The households got used to their lady and lord’s impromptu rash couplings and when they spied their Graces looking particularly dishevelled and ravished they regarded them with rueful, doting smiles.
When the Duchess was put to bed, the household looked on as their Lord traipsed in front of the door of her chambers like a man insane. He begged for news of her and was haunted by the torturous shouts that sailed through the closed door. He had waited on her hand and foot as she increased, insisting on taking care of her. He had been shoed away by the midwife and the servants that attended her when the labor pains had started
Denying The Duke (Regency Romance: Strong Women Find True Love Book 3) Page 11
