Romance: Detective Romance: A Vicious Affair (Victorian Regency Intrigue 19th England Romance) (Historical Mystery Detective Romance)

by Lisa Andersen

  Bertie kept on galloping towards the scene and instead of slowing, he sent his mount directly at the man taking the bag. The horse saw the collision coming and slowed involuntarily, but it was still travelling at some speed when it knocked[PE5] into the robber. Bertie jumped from the horse and let himself fly at the second robber in front of the carriage. The first one was on the ground and trying to get under the vehicle away from the horse’s hooves. Robber number two was taken by surprise and when he was leapt upon by an enraged gentleman,in panic, he fired the gun and Bertie felt a hot pain in his shoulder, but it was not enough to slow him down. Bertie pulled back his arm and punched the robber directly onto the nose which spurted blood everywhere. The gun clattered to the ground. Caroline screamed as she saw the blood and thought it belonged to Bertie. The footman who had been driving had now leapt to Bertie’s aid and between them, they immobilised the second robber. The first one scrambled out from under the carriage and ran off as fast as his legs could carry him. Bertie let him go and found some cord to tie up the one they had caught. The penalty for highway robbery was death and the man was now pleading to be let go, but they took no notice.

  “You are not hurt are you?” Bertie asked Caroline anxiously and her reply was to come forward and hold out her arms. “I am fine but you are hurt. Let me see what is wrong.” He took a step forward and collapsed into her arms. The driver rushed to her aid and they propped Lord Haverbrook against the carriage wheel. The driver caught the free horse and Badger and another two servants came galloping post haste down the road to assist. “Oh Mr. Timkins, I am so glad to see you. Bertie is injured.” Badger knelt down on the road beside his friend and pulled away the jacket. Caroline gasped as she saw that blood was spreading across his white shirt and cravat from his shoulder. “I need cloths,” Badger said, looking around. Caroline darted to where her bags were in the carriage, ripped one open and produced a white petticoat. Badger grabbed it and staunched the wound. He looked at Caroline. “Hold that against him and when the bleeding stops, we will get him into the carriage. He sent his two servants off to find someone to take the robber into custody and tied his own horse and Bertie’s to the rear of the carriage. “I think it has stopped now,” Caroline ventured and raised the cloth a little. Badger looked and agreed. He called the driver and together they lifted Bertie into the carriage. Bertie himself was coming round and could help a little as the two men struggled to get him onto the seat. Once there, Badger asked Caroline to come and hold the cloth again. She sat beside him and the driver started to turn the carriage back in the direction of home. Badger saw, with relief that the footmen had brought the law and when he gave details and his own and Bertie’s names and addresses, they took the robber away.

  Badger came to sit on the other side of Bertie and the party set back the way they had come. “Oh I am so sorry,” Caroline said after a while. “I have caused all this trouble and poor Lord Haverbrook has been shot-all on my account.”

  Badger told her that Bertie had simply chased off at high speed as soon as he knew she had gone off alone. “I have been such a fool,” she said. “Doing the stupid dance and then rushing off when people didn’t like it.” There was a slight moan from Bertie who opened his eyes.

  “I can hear you Caroline,” he whispered. “They are stupid, arrogant people.” Badger said he agreed with that. “Just let’s get you home and the wound cleaned up,” he told him. “Lie still. It won’t be long.” Bertie did the opposite. He opened his eyes and looked at Caroline Carstairs. “I could not bear it if anything happened to you.” He paused for breath. “Can I have fallen in love in such a short time?” Caroline gasped and took his hand.

  “I went away to save you and your friends embarrassment,” she answered and both Bertie and Badger said that they were not embarrassed at all. Bertie opened his eyes again and looked at the girl holding his hand and still pressing the cloth to his shoulder. “Miss Carstairs, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife please? Please be Lady Haverbrook. Please say yes.” Badger Timkins had no place to go so he looked studiously out of the side of the carriage and grinned quietly to himself. He would never let Bertie forget this one.

  There was a pause whilst Caroline took in the enormity of what he had asked. Bertie opened his eyes again and looked worried. “Maybe you do not feel for me like I do for you,” he ventured, but Caroline gave him that marvellous smile that lit up the whole world. “I do love you Bertie Collins Margrave. I loved you from the first moment I saw you trespassing in my stable yard.” He gave a small laugh. “So the answer is yes?” She bent forward and kissed his lips.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes. I will marry you and be the happiest woman in the world.” Bertie brought around his good arm and pulled her close. He claimed the kiss that he had been dreaming of and he knew that Badger Timkins was grinning like a madman. He didn’t care. The kiss ended and Caroline checked the wound again. “The bleeding has stopped,” she said.

  “You can turn around now, Badger,” Bertie said and realised that he felt stronger than before. “I know you are having a really good laugh but you can prepare yourself to be best man at the forthcoming festivities. “Congratulations to both of you,” Badger said. “I accept the best man invitation.” The carriage turned into the gates of Bertie’s stately pile and the two riders had gone ahead to prepare the servants to receive the wounded warrior. Bertie said he could walk and did go into his house on his own legs but aided by Badger and his butler. Aunt Agatha was fluttering in the background and frowned when she saw Caroline. “This is your fault, you silly girl,” the older woman said, but it stopped Bertie in his tracks. He turned to the whole group of people. “This is the fault of ignorant people who are nasty to others. You included, Aunt Agatha.” He looked around. “Miss Carstairs has agreed to marry me.” There was a gasp and some of the servant girls clapped their hands. “We will wed and pull this place into the modern world.” He held out his hand and Caroline ran to take it. The butler said, “Let me be the first to say congratulations, My Lord.” And Bertie thanked him as the staff gave a little cheer. “Let’s get you to a bed and clean this wound,” the butler finished and took over operations much to Badger’s relief.

  It seemed that the bullet had gone straight through the top of the shoulder and although there were two wounds, it was not as bad as the blood would let you think. Warm water and gentle washing revealed a clean wound. Wrapped in clean bandages and a soft jacket pulled into place, Bertie felt human again and held out his hand for Caroline to come and sit beside him.

  “Thank you for riding to my rescue,” she said. “You were truly a knight in shining armour.”

  “And I claim the hand of the maiden in distress.” He grinned at her. “We will do that waltz at the wedding and nobody will be brave enough to complain.”

  “My cousin will be delighted. He will be able to teach Arabella how to waltz as well,” his bride to be added, and he drew her towards him for the kiss that took them both into another realm entirely where time stood still.

  “Happy ever after, Caroline, Lady Haverbrook. Happy ever after,” he murmured into her hair. She nestled against him and smiled.

  The Duke of Fire, the Lady of Lust

  Up until a week ago, my main concern was the village fare and making sure Mother and I baked the best cake. Now, what has this silly life gone and set upon me now? Lady Katherine Ellsworth looked down at her hands as she sat in the guest room in Highwall Castle, the Castle of the Duke of Highset, and her late cousin’s betrothed. Elizabeth had adored the Duke, for as long as she could tell. And she had been excited about the marriage. But now all that was over, because some madman had decided to murder her. Katherine shivered, as she remembered when the madman had come for her.

  She had been walking through the Somerset moors, a fine August breeze caressing her sweat-specked neck, the flowers blooming in stark sunlight, when a dirt-covered, mad-eyed man had emerged from a nearby bush, saber in
hand. “Your sister screamed,” he said casually, as he approached her. “Won’t you scream, my lady?”

  “Who are you?” Katherine said, facing his square-on. Don’t let this man frighten you, she told herself. These kinds of men thrive on frightening women. “Why do you want to harm me? Why did you harm my cousin, Elizabeth? You are the same man, are you not?”

  “I’m the same man, alright,” he grunted. “If you have any last words, you better speak them now.”

  Katherine carried the cane Father had given her everywhere she went. She had always been a boyish kind of girl, in the respect that physical exertion excited her greatly; and rolling around in the mud with the village boys was her idea of fun. Cousin Elizabeth had scowled and sat with her pretty head held high whilst Katherine wrestled, being careful never to let Mother see. But when Father discovered? He gave her this cane: a cane that had a dangerous secret; a cane she had practiced with for hours.

  “Come closer, then,” Katherine said, voice steady. “Come closer, sir, and finish what you started.”

  “You’re a mad wench, aren’t you?” he said.

  “Apparently so,” Katherine replied.

  The man took a step toward her. Katherine whipped the rapier from the cane and lashed out at him, screaming wildly. “Back!” she cried. “Back, now, I tell you!” She waved the rapier toward him, zigzagging it in the air, spinning and forcing him backwards.

  “Ah!” he cried, jumping. His eyes widened in surprise and he skirted around the edge of her. “You’re nothing at all like your cousin,” he went on, almost sounding like he admired that. “But I’ll get you. That little thing isn’t going to stop me. Come on, now. I can make it quick for you. If you keep fighting like this, I might decide to have some fun.”

  Katherine pointed the rapier and waited for him to advance. The man tilted his head and leapt forward. Katherine threw herself upon the earth, his sword barely inches from her face. She turned onto her back, but he was already there. He stepped on her wrist. She wailed out in agony: shards of pain shooting up her arm. He leveled the sword at her face.

  “Now,” he said. “Let us—”

  Four farmers came over the hill, saw them, and charged towards the man.

  “Hell,” the man grunted, climbing from her. “This isn’t over, my lady.”

  He sprinted into the woods, the farmers in pursuit. They returned half an hour later, having lost him. When Katherine returned home and told Mother what had happened, Mother insisted that they seek shelter. Mother was going to stay with her brother in the north. Katherine decided to seek shelter with her cousin’s betrothed, the Duke. He had made name for himself in France. People called him “the Duke of Fire”. If she was going to be safe with anybody, she reasoned, it was him.

  A knock at the door brought her back to the present. “Yes?” she said, rising.

  A maidservant walked in, a kind-faced girl of around twenty-one, if Katherine was any judge. “The Duke will see you now, my lady,” the girl said.

  “Thank you,” Katherine said.

  She had never met this Duke before, even though Elizabeth was engaged to be married to him. Elizabeth had thought it beneath her to come to the Ellsworth homestead, now that she was a Duke’s betrothed, and Katherine and Mother had never bothered to travel to the Castle. They had been due to go there for the wedding, until the madman wielding steel changed that.

  Katherine walked down the hallways of Highwall Castle to the parlor and the Duke of Fire.

  *****

  Harold Rockfall sat with a rigid back on a sofa, his hands resting upon his knees. He was a muscular man, with his muscles showing even through his military jacket. His britches were tight around his legs and showed marching muscles. His face was strong and square. His shaven jaw showed a strong, firm bone structure. His nose was Roman and predominate, but not ugly or distracting in the least. His hair was cropped close and a brown so light it was almost blonde. His eyes were a blue so pale they were almost clear. He rose when Katherine entered. “My lady,” he said.

  Almost immediately, Katherine noted his handsomeness. And almost immediately after that, she chastised herself. This was your cousin’s betrothed. Have some respect, Katherine. You will not dwell on this man’s appearance when he has returned to hunt his fiancé’s killer. “Duke,” Katherine said. “Thank you for having me.”

  “It is the least I could do,” the Duke said. “Please, sit.”

  They sat facing each other on chairs of purple-dyed cushion. Katherine rested her hands on her legs, and felt that hot tinge in between her legs that she sometimes felt at nighttime whilst touching herself. She tried to stop it, but it became stronger. The Duke really was very attractive.

  “I am shocked at what has happened,” the Duke said, his voice filled with rage. “That this scum would not only kill my betrothed, but attack her cousin too… It is disgusting.”

  “Yes,” Katherine said. “It was quite a shock.”

  “I am told you defended yourself quite well, though?”

  “I did my best,” Katherine said. “I have the rudiments of swordplay, but he was still able to beat me. If it were not for the farmers, he would have succeeded in taking my life.”

  “I need you to describe the attacker to me,” the Duke said. “I want to hunt him down and see him hang for what he has done.”

  Katherine thought back. “He was a vile, dirty man. I believe his eyes were dark brown. His features are hard to recall. They were caked in dirt, you see. His accent was that of a Londoner, I believe, though I am by no means overly acquainted with London. He was an inch or so taller than me.”

  “A short man, then,” the Duke muttered. “A short Londoner with dark brown eyes. This narrows it down. Anything else?”

  “He wielded a saber of the finest steel,” Katherine said. “I cannot speak to its quality from a professional standpoint – what would I know about weaponry – but I can say it looked strong and sturdy, an incongruous weapon when the man is considered.”

  “Perhaps he stole it,” the Duke said. “Anything else, Lady Ellsworth?”

  “Please, Duke, call me Katherine.”

  “Very well. You may call me Harry.”

  Katherine felt her heartbeat quicken at that. This Harry was nothing like the men she had been with before, the trysts with the farmer’s sons and the annual meeting with the blacksmith who visited the village. No, this Harry was a strong, warring man. He had seen real danger. She could see it in his eyes, which swam with past excitements and brutalities. She felt the urge again, and had to remind herself that it was neither the time nor the place for these kinds of feelings.

  “I cannot recall anything else,” Katherine said. “But I will think further on it. And if I remember anything I will tell you.”

  “Thank you,” Harry said. “You will be safe here. There are guards posted around the grounds. One man will not get in here. If he’s stupid enough to try, we’ll kill him quickly enough.”

  He rose and made for the door.

  “You are leaving?” Katherine asked.

  “I have letters I must send,” Harry said, “concerning France.”

  “I get so bored in that room by myself,” Katherine said. What are you doing? What are you playing at, Katherine, you naughty girl? “Do you think we could take a walk together on the grounds, when your letters are sent?”

  Harry looked at her as though he was seeing her for the first time: seeing her forest-green eyes, her slender neck, her thin arms, her perky breasts and her fine legs; seeing the mischievous smile that constantly toyed around her lips. “I don’t see why not,” Harry said. “As long as we stay on the Castle grounds. I will send for you when I am finished.”

  “I will await it eagerly, Harry,” Katherine said, rising.

  The Duke left the room and Katherine followed, but headed in the
other direction toward her bedroom. When she was alone, she sat at the desk and stared down at the novel she had been reading. It was trite, sentimental nonsense but she adored it all the same: lords and ladies meeting secretly in moonlit groves; ladies with impossible beauty dancing in the forest with kings; princes and princesses caught in intrigue and lies.

  She lay on her bed and closed her eyes. The Duke appeared in her mind’s eye. She tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge. She knew that her thoughts were wrong. She knew it was unladylike in the extreme and if anybody were to find out she would be in the middle of quite the scandal. But why should she live in a world of abstinence when men got to do as they pleased, ruining women and then riding off into the sunset? No, Katherine Ellsworth didn’t think that was fair at all.

  But she was beginning to see something. Her lovemaking up until this point had been pitiful. The men she had rutted with were not even close to the Duke of Fire. You are a devil! an inner-voice cried, the voice of hundreds of years of oppression and nonsense. You are a devil! You are supposed to be a flower, waiting to be plucked! You are supposed to be a dainty thing, to be blown away in the breeze of love! You are supposed to be honorable above all!

  “Yes,” Katherine muttered. “But what would be the fun in that?”

  *****

  The Duke did not send for her that night. Katherine was starting to think he had either forgotten about their arrangement or had changed his mind when, the next morning, the maidservant knocked on her door. “The Duke would like to know if you would join him for breakfast, my lady.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Katherine said.