To Love A Horseguard
By
Killarney Sheffield
ISBN: 978-1-77145-172-7
Published by:
Books We Love Ltd.
Chestermere, Alberta
Canada
Copyright 2013 by Killarney Sheffield
Cover art by Michelle Lee Copyright 2013
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
Chapter One
London, England 1830
“But grandmother—”
The dowager duchess frowned, the wrinkles around her blue eyes betraying her age. “Rosemary Wellington, I will tolerate no more of this foolishness!”
Rose stamped her foot and pushed an already limp chestnut curl behind her ear. “I do not want to go. Why must I?”
“Because you must. Honestly, I have tolerated this horse nonsense of yours for far too long. Your mother in heaven must be simply outraged I have let it go on and not seen you married by now.” The dowager grasped Rose by the arm and steered her from the quiet solitude of the stables.
“But grandmother, the Marquis of Joliemere? The man is a dreadful bore. I have nothing in common with him.” Rose cast a longing look over her shoulder at the stalls of peacefully munching horses.
The dowager shook her silver-streaked head. “One does not need anything in common with the man they are to marry. All that is important is he has a good family name and a title.”
Rose shook free from her grandmother's grasp and stalked up the path to the house. The Marquis of Joliemere? What was her grandmother thinking? Perhaps her brother, John, could talk some sense into their paternal grandmother; after all he was her favorite. They entered the crowded ballroom and Rose frowned as the marquis intercepted them. Obviously he had been waiting for her. He probably sent my grandmother looking for me, which would be his style. Why do for yourself what you could get others to do for you? When her grandmother gave her a discreet jab Rose pasted a sweet smile on her face.
The marquis beamed, oblivious to her displeasure. “I believe this is my dance.”
She nodded and forced her feet to move as he led her to the dance floor.
“I am so pleased our families have come to an amicable agreement, and you must be delighted with the prospect,” he babbled on without waiting for her answer. “You will love Joliemere House. It is right in the heart of Paris. Ah, the shopping, and entertainments are far superior to the ones here in London...”
Rose tuned him out and concentrated on keeping the toes of her delicate satin slippers from the assault of his polished shoes. Try as she might she could not fathom how such an educated dandy could have two left feet. She winced when he crushed the tip of her big toe and continued on, unaware of his misstep.
She nodded as was expected when the marquis’ voice rose in a questioning tone, knowing her answer did not matter to him in the least. A tiny sigh slipped from her lips despite her best efforts to hide her dismay. Their wedding was already scheduled for the end of the London season, just three short months away, after which she would board the marquis’ ship and sail off to France. To spend the rest of my life as this hawk-nosed, boorish, dandy's wife... Her mind ran through the gauntlet of excuses not to go, some already tried on her grandmother with no success. There was no getting out of it; she would be the new Marchioness of Joliemere.
Rose glanced across the crowded ballroom and spied her cousin threading a path among the throngs of men, who trailed in her wake like small puppies. Even in her masquerade costume and mask, men were drawn to her. A pang of envy pricked her chest. Elizabeth is everything I am not—blonde, funny, pretty, and never at a loss for words.
Beth stopped before them and tapped the marquis on the shoulder. “Excuse me, my lord, may I borrow my cousin for a moment please? It is a matter of great importance.”
Rose almost laughed out loud as her cousin fluttered her long darkened eyelashes and affected a pleading pout for the marquis’ benefit. No doubt the ‘something of great importance’ was nothing of any importance at all, but she was grateful for the intrusion just the same.
The marquis smiled, his eyes lingering on her cousin’s modest swell of breasts above her frilly Little Bo Peep costume’s bodice. “Oui, by all means, Princess.” He released Rose’s hand and gave a stiff bow.
Without even acknowledging his awkward show of respect, Beth clutched Rose’s arm and dragged her from the ballroom. “You must help me Rose.”
“Slow down Beth, else I will twist my ankle.”
Beth ducked into an empty study, pulling Rose in behind her. She closed and locked the door behind them. Face flushed, eyes dancing with excitement she squeezed Rose’s hand. “Quick! Switch costumes with me.”
“What?”
“Oh please, Rose.” Beth widened her eyes and affected a pretty pout.
“Why?”
Beth glanced around as if the walls had ears and then leaned close. “Promise you will not tell?”
“Tell what?”
“Just promise.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “Oh all right. I promise I will not tell, now why do you wish to switch costumes?”
“Lord Manchester and I are going to elope tonight. If you switch costumes with me no one will be the wiser until we are well on our way to Gretna Green.”
“Are you noddy?” Rose yelped.
“Shhh.” Beth clapped her hand over Rose’s mouth. “Please Rose, I love Edward and I know he loves me.”
Rose pulled her cousin’s hand away so she could speak. “You cannot. You know you have been betrothed to the emperor’s son since you were but a baby.”
Beth squeezed her hands. “You know how miserable you are about your arranged marriage with the marquis. Would you wish the same torture on me?”
“Yes- no- Beth I wish I could help but I will do my duty and marry him just as you must do yours and forget this silly elopement nonsense.” She bit her lip knowing if there was a way she could avoid her own upcoming nuptials, she would.
“If you will not do it for me then do it for all the other women in England who must marry for titles instead of love,” Beth pleaded, tears in her eyes.
“Do not dare use tears on me Beth, it will not work.” She sighed when tears began to trickle down her cousin’s cheeks. “I just know I am going to regret this.” She peeled off her mask and black gypsy wig and handed them to Beth.
Beth squealed and hugged her. “Oh I do love you cousin.”
* * * *
Rose straightened the wig of golden curls jammed over top of her own chestnut locks as she made her way back to the ballroom. She was already regretting her decision. God only knows what grandmother will do when she finds out I aided Beth in this scheme.
“Excuse me, Princess Elizabeth? I have been looking for you.”
Rose looked up as the Russian prince bowed. The highwayman mask he wore hid all but his chin and tawny eyes. Rose frowned. For some reason she thought the prince would be taller. Hadn’t her grandmother said the Russian prince she had met once was? This man was barely five-foot-five. Perhaps her grandmother was mistaken and had really met another prince.
“I believe you have promised me this dance.” He straightened and bestowed on her a charming smile.
Rose looked down at her cousin’s dance card now attached to her own wrist. He was right,
Beth had promised him this dance. She grimaced at the full card of signatures. It app
eared Beth also promised almost every other man in attendance a dance, too.
With little other choice she nodded, forcing a smile to her lips as she placed her hand in the prince’s. He led her to the dance floor and together they picked up the steps. Rose scanned the ballroom for Beth. Had she and Lord Manchester made their escape already? She smiled despite herself when she spied the marquis perusing the ballroom as well. No doubt he was looking for her. Well one good thing would come of her charade; she would not have to suffer any more of his attentions tonight.
The music ended and the prince released her. He bowed over her hand. “You look warm. Would you care for a cool drink?”
Rose smiled when he straightened. “That would be lovely, thank you.” She allowed him to escort her to an empty chair by the open veranda doors. She flipped open her fan and studied the other dancers swirling around the floor to the next song. When the marquis glided by with a terribly bored looking woman on his arm, Rose stifled a giggle. Seems she was not the only woman here tonight who found her fiancé dull.
The Russian prince returned with a glass of champagne. He handed it to her and then took the seat to her right. “Thank you.” Rose took a few sips of the bubbly drink. “I heard you are staying with the ambassador and his wife. Will you be in England long?”
His intent stare unnerved her for a moment before he blinked and smiled. “I am leaving on the morning tide.”
“How unfortunate, grandmother hoped to call on you. She told me of your last visit. It seems she was very taken with you.”
His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned for a brief moment before his smile returned. “I hoped to stay longer, but business calls me back to Russia.”
“I, too, will be leaving England soon.” Rose gripped the stem of the champagne flute in panic when she remembered she was supposed to be pretending to be Beth.
He paused with his own glass halfway to his mouth. “I thought it would be another year before you would wed the emperor’s son, after his coronation?”
Rose scrambled to come up with a believable lie. “My parents decided I should leave early to get to know the man who is to be my husband.” His head titled, his eyes narrowing. Rose held her breath, hoping he wouldn't question her further.
Finally he seemed to accept her explanation and finished his drink. “I sense you are not happy to be leaving home.”
“No.” Rose drained her glass, grimacing at the strange bitter dregs at the bottom and set her empty glass on the floor by her chair. “I have never had the desire to leave England. You however, must enjoy traveling.”
“Yes, well being the youngest of six brothers gives me a lot of time on my hands.” The prince’s laugh was somewhat bitter.
A warm dizzy sensation assailed her and Rose fanned herself. Did it suddenly get hot in here?
“Perhaps you would like to stand outside on the veranda for a little fresh air? I find it quite hot in here,” the prince offered, his gaze darting around the ballroom.
She hesitated. The overly protective marquis would be furious if he caught her with the prince. A plan began to form in her head. Maybe if I flirt outrageously with the prince he will try to steal a kiss or two. If I let him and the marquis sees or hears about it he might call the wedding off. It will ruin my reputation, but I do not desire to marry anyway. I would much prefer a solitary life as a spinster, than be married to a man I do not love. The prince is leaving in the morning so he cannot be forced to ask for my hand and the marquis would not have a chance to call him out. A smile curved her lips. Elizabeth was not going to be the only woman to upset all the gossiping old matrons tonight.
The prince held out his hand. “I will be on my best behavior. We shall stand just outside the doors.”
“That would be lovely. I do feel a trifle overheated.” She tried her best to smile in a flirtatious manner as she took his offered arm.
He led her just outside the doors into the shadows and stopped. Rose giggled and tried to appear unaware of the fact two of the worst gossips were watching her. She pressed herself against the prince. “I am so glad you brought me out here,” she murmured her head swimming and disorientated. The prince put his arm around her waist and she clutched his arm, alarmed by the nausea threatening to overwhelm her. “I am afraid I feel quite ill.”
“Not to worry Princess Elizabeth, the fresh air will revive you in no time.” He steered her along the shadowy veranda to the garden steps. “A walk in the gardens will do the trick.”
Rose closed her eyes and leaned her head against the prince’s arm. “I think I need to lie down.” Then her knees buckled. The prince scooped her up into his arms and hurried down the steps and then along a dark garden path. “Please put me down,” Rose whimpered, fighting to stay awake.
“There is nothing to worry about, princess, everything will be fine.”
Every conscious thought faded as her mind slowed in slumber.
* * * *
John drummed his fingers on the scarred table top. It was fast closing on an hour since he arrived at the inn and his informant still had not shown himself. He scratched at the itchy blacking on his face, part of his disguise, and sighed. Maybe the sailor shipped out already. Draining the last of his ale he slid back his chair to leave. As he stood, a gnarled old sailor dropped his considerable bulk into the rickety chair across from him.
“Ye be the one lookin’ for information on the Russian?” The man’s gaze shifted around the room before he settled his stare on John.
John leaned forward. “Yes.”
The sailor glanced behind himself at the door. “I be needin’ a drink.”
John grabbed two pints off a passing serving wench’s tray and flipped a couple of coins onto the table. He set one down in front of his companion and took a sip of the other.
The sailor gulped down half of the contents of his mug before he spoke. “The Russian was at the ambassador’s to solicit funds and troops to wage war on the tsar.” The man paused, leaned closer over the table and lowered his voice. “He don’t travel with no royal crew a’far’s I kin tell.”
John swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as the sailor’s stale breath washed over him. “What do you mean?”
“I ain’t positive never havin’ seen no Russian navy b’fore but that lot looks like a bunch o’ dressed up pirates t’ me.”
Puzzled, John pondered the idea. “What would a prince be doing with a shoddy crew?”
The sailor shrugged. “Mayhap he ain’t a real prince.”
John raised his eyebrows. “That is certainly a possibility.”
“So the real prince could ‘ave sent this one ‘ere in ‘is place so the tsar wouldn’t suspect a double cross.” The sailor stood and held out his hand palm up. “Word on the docks is the prince is leavin’ on the mornin’ tide.”
Mind churning with new information John took a small pouch of coins out of his pocket and tossed them on the table. The man picked up the bag and shook it to judge the weight. Satisfied he grinned, drained the last of the pint and departed.
John stood and made his way through the crowded room to the door ignoring the suggestive looks from an attractive blonde serving wench. Outside he summoned a coach and gave the driver directions to the ball. Inside the dark interior he sat back and pondered this newest information. Could the Russian prince be a fake or a decoy? If he was the real prince why was he sailing with a shoddy crew? Were they hired mercenaries? The prince hadn’t managed to convince the British ambassador to lend him funds, of that John was certain, for England would not jeopardize the fragile peace between the two countries. He put aside his thoughts and questions as the coach rolled to a stop in front of the mansion. John jumped out, tossed the driver a coin and hurried up the stairs into the ballroom.
Surveying the noisy scene, he picked up a glass of wine off a passing servant’s tray and made his way through the throng to his grandmother’s side. “Good evening, grandmother.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
&nbs
p; The duchess smiled, her blue eyes twinkling and the crow’s-feet of age lining them becoming more pronounced. She paused to adjust her delicate silk fan. “Jonathon, I see you managed to finish your meeting in time to enjoy some of the festivities. That is quite the costume by the way.”
He grinned. “I thought coming as a coal miner would be an original idea. Where is my darling sister? Is she dancing the night away in her fiancé’s arms or hiding behind a potted palm somewhere plotting her escape?”
The duchess tittered behind her fan. “Really, must you tease the poor girl so?”
The marquis returned to the duchess’ side. “Has anyone seen my fiancée? She was dancing with Lord Darrington earlier, but I have not seen her since.”
The duchess glanced around the room. “I am sure she is around here somewhere. Maybe Jonathon can find her for you. I should like to leave soon. The party is starting to die down and it is never fashionable to be one of the last guests to leave.” She took the marquis’ arm. “I do believe your name is on my card for this dance.”
The marquis led her out on the dance floor as John scanned the room for Rose. His sister was nowhere to be seen. He checked the ladies parlor, the library, the veranda and gardens, but there was no sign of her. He found his grandmother and the marquis in the greeting room saying goodbye to their hosts.
“I cannot find her or Beth anywhere,” John told them.
The duchess patted his shoulder. “You know Rose, always going off on her own when she is bored. Perhaps she and Beth caught a ride home earlier with friends.”
“Well.” The marquis huffed. “She is going to have to be more responsible when we are married. I do not have time to go chasing around after her.”
“I am sure she will settle down and get all this silly horse business out of her head once she is married and has a few babies at foot,” the duchess assured him. With a commanding wave of her hand she led the way out to the waiting carriage.
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