“What are you so surprised about?’ asked Duke Andrew, still angry.
“Oh, Papa, how could you do that? It was not Michael who tried to rape me, it was someone else. I never told you it was Michael,” said Clare, almost in tears.
Duke Andrew looked at Clare in surprise. “I thought it was Michael, as I met him that morning and he was quick to leave,” said Duke Andrew, even as he regretted his sharp words to Michael.
“Oh Papa,” sighed Clare as she sat beside her mother and dropped her head into her hands.
15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SURPRISE VISITS AND HAPPY ENDINGS
SURPRISE VISITS AND HAPPY ENDINGS
“My heart is, and always will be yours…” ~ Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
Clare tossed and turned in her bed that night. She had imagined Michael’s face when he was unjustly accused by her father. How sad he must have felt, she said to herself as she closed her eyes and tried to drag sleep into her mind. Clare fell asleep toward dawn and when she awoke the following morning, she had a thundering headache.
“I should make peace with Michael. It is high time,” she whispered to herself as she dressed that morning.
After breakfast, she rode to Hampshire Castle. She was going to make peace with Michael, but the reception she got was not one she’d expected from Michael.
“My Lord, Lady Clare Hatherton is here to see you,” said Paul.
“What does she want with me now?” asked Michael angrily.
Clare was standing in the living room and heard Michael. Tears stung her eyes.
Michael appeared at the door to the living room. “Please leave, Lady Hatherton, and don’t come back here. I love my life and don’t want to be killed by your father and, moreover, I do not like liars around my castle,” said Michael furiously.
Clare turned around and her shoulders shook as she cried.
This was almost too much for Michael, but he stood his ground. He was very much in love with the woman who stood crying at his doorstep. “Clare, please leave,” he pleaded.
“I cannot go until I have told you the truth, and then I shall leave and you will never see me again,” said Clare finally.
“Well, out with it then,” said Michael.
“I never told my father who tried to rape me. He assumed that it was you when you rushed off while he was speaking to you that morning in the woods. I told him yesterday that I did not recognize the man who tried to rape me and that it was you who saved me from a catastrophe that would have harmed my whole life,” said Clare as she began walking out of the castle, her shoulders slumped.
“Clare, stop,” cried Michael, but Clare continued to walk. “Clare, please stop,” said Michael as he reached for her shoulders and slowly turned her to face him. Brushing her tears away with his thumbs, he enfolded her in a loving embrace.
Clare clung to Michael as if she was afraid of losing him.
“Clare, my darling, I have been in love with you for a very long time and each time you rejected me, my love for you grew in leaps and bounds. I have never looked at another woman with want since I set eyes on you. Believe me, I would never harm you, my beloved,” said Michael as he hugged Clare to his chest.
“Is that true?” asked Clare as she looked into Michael’s eyes, but she needed no answer, as the answer lay in his eyes.
“Clare, I know it’s crazy for a man to propose whilst standing out here in the garden, but will you marry me, my darling?” asked Michael.
“I was wondering when you were going to ask me. Of course I will, my beloved,” said Clare.
Together they rode to Hatherton Castle. Duke and Duchess Hatherton stood on the stone steps awaiting Claire’s arrival, and they were surprised to see her riding the same stallion with Michael.
“It looks as if Clare has finally made a decision,” said Duke Andrew to his wife and they both smiled as Clare and Michael dismounted and walked toward them. “Michael, I am sorry for the misunderstanding, my boy,” said Duke Andrew as he shook hands with Michael.
“Oh, that’s alright. In fact, it was a blessing that you misunderstood, otherwise, Clare would never have visited,” said Michael and Duke Andrew roared with laughter.
One month later
Lady Clare and Lord Michael were married in a quaint old chapel amongst a huge gathering of relatives, dukes, duchesses, viscounts, barons, baronesses and ladies from all over the world.
Clare looked dreamily at her husband as they both walked to their suite of rooms in the West Wing of Hampshire Castle; the new Duke and Duchess of Hampshire.
EPILOGUE
The wedding of Lady Clare Hatherton and Lord Michael Havenshire was a splendid one and all their relatives, ranging from dukes, duchesses, barons and baronesses, attended.
Rose Buxton, who had supplied all the fabric for the wedding, was invited, along with Evelyn the seamstress. They sat together and watched the proceedings. Hannah Stratton, who juggled two jobs as housekeeper and governess for the Duke and Duchess of Cumberland, was talking to Leticia, who was Lord Michael’s housekeeper.
“I heard that James left the Navy,” said Leticia.
“Indeed, and I am not too happy with what he has done. He was here a few weeks ago and then left in quite a huff,” said Hannah.
“Oh dear me and why was that?” asked Leticia.
Hannah looked down at her feet and when she looked up, Leticia saw the sadness in her eyes.
“Don’t worry, Hannah, everything will work out fine for you,” said Leticia as she patted Hannah’s hand.
Hannah nodded and smiled sadly. “I miss him so,” she said softly.
“Naturally, James is your son and you should miss him” said Leticia.
Rose and Evelyn could hear the conversation between the two housekeepers. “I heard that James left in quite a huff,” whispered Evelyn to Rose.
“What does it matter to us, Evelyn,” said Rose.
“Oh, haven’t you heard?” asked Evelyn.
“Heard what?” asked Rose.
“Oh, Rose, how daft you can be. Haven’t you heard that James is the bastard son of the late Duke of Cumberland?” whispered Evelyn.
Rose’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, Evelyn, how could you talk like that? It is none of our business who James’ father was,” whispered Rose.
“Such a shameful secret,” said Evelyn, shaking her head, and thereafter, she said no more.
Rose thought about what Evelyn had said. It may have been true, but who would care. Certainly not Rose Buxton. She had a lot on her plate right now and had no time for frivolous gossip about who was whose father or son.
However, it did worry one person. James Stratton himself.
PART THREE
WILL THE RUMORS OF ILLEGITIMACY RUIN HIS LIFE?
____________________________________
James
&
Rose
____________________________________
“I am Rose Buxton. But you will not recognize my surname, as Buxton was my husband’s surname,” she said and again James caught the word was.
Rose drew up her knees and hugged them, as if she was hugging her past and afraid to let go. She felt her insides flip each time she looked at James and remembered their time together in the past, the past they had shared as children. So innocent and pure. “Why did you leave, James?” she asked softly.
“Patrick, my man, I know you would take good care of my Rose and she would, I am sure, be agreeable to marrying you,” said Fernside.
Hannah looked sadly at James as she tears rolled down her cheeks. He got up and hugged Hannah. “Mama, you know nothing of this is going to diminish my love for you,” said James. Hannah nodded as the tears rolled down her cheeks in torrents.
1
CHAPTER ONE
RETURNING HOME
RETURNING HOME
Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land. For I will not leave you until I ha
ve done what I have promised you.” ~ Genesis 28:15
James Stratton had resigned from the British Navy 10 years before and it had been 10 years since he had last seen his mother, Hannah Stratton. He wondered what reception he would be greeted with when he arrived in Bath. He was going home to the only family he had.
In the Navy, James was Captain James Stratton, a highly respected officer with medals pinned to his uniform, but back in Bath, he knew that he was the illegitimate son of the Duke of Cumberland. People never spoke out in the open, but James knew that they did when his and his mother’s backs were turned. He had a choice of beautiful women, even ladies of pedigree, who stopped to talk to him. James had preferred the Navy, and after the defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo, James had left the Navy and started his own cotton spinning business in Manchester.
He stopped to gaze at the sun, which was fast losing its brightness to the fall of dusk. “We could make it to Bath by nightfall,” he said as he ran his hand over his horse Venus’ neck. It was still early spring, but the day had been warm. “I wonder what reception I will get back home,” said James. He gathered the reins again. “And old fellow, if my memory serves me right, there is a stream round the bend where you could cool your heels and have a drink of water,” said James.
Venus galloped and James was wondering if the horse understood him when Venus suddenly reared back and the calm evening was shattered by the sound of a pistol. This was followed by men shouting and a woman’s voice reaching a crescendo.
James urged Venus forward and when he rounded the bend, he saw three men and a woman in a scuffle. The woman was shouting at them as they threw bales of fabric into the river. “You shall pay for all this,” the woman shouted as she raised her pistol and fired into the air. However, none of that deterred the men, who continued their onslaught on the bales of fabric.
“Put that pistol away,” roared James as he dismounted and rushed toward the mayhem and confusion. A wagon stood beside the river. The driver, a woman in a sky blue redingote, was outraged and although the dress was bulky, James saw that she had no trouble wielding the pistol.
James reached out to one of the men and pulled him by his collar. The man’s arms flailed as he fell back and landed on the ground with a curse escaping his lips. The other two men were upon James in a minute, but he was quicker and lashed out at them with both hands, sending them sprawling to join their friend, who was groaning on the ground, nursing an injured jaw.
“Get the hell out of here,” roared James. “You should be ashamed of yourselves, to attack a woman,” he concluded as the men fled toward their horses. Cursing the pain that swept through their bodies, they rode away.
James slowly turned toward the woman. “And you. Don’t you know that it is dangerous to travel at dusk?” he asked.
The woman looked down at her feet and smoothed her redingote. “I am used to traveling alone and have never encountered danger or…damage to my fabrics,” she said as she turned to look sadly at the river and the rolls of fabrics floating in it.
“Come on, let’s get those rolls of fabric out of the river before the current takes them to Hampshire,” he said.
Together they worked in silence as they pulled the rolls of fabric out of the river. A task to reckon with, as the fabric was soaked and hence heavy. However, James admired the stamina and vitality of the woman as she helped him pull the rolls of fabric out of the water. Two rolls had floated away and were at a distance that neither James nor the woman could reach. James watched her from the corner of his eye as she bravely fought the current and retrieved the last roll of fabric. She was a tall woman and James’s eyes widened when he looked at her closely. She was beautiful.
The woman straightened her spine and looked at James. “I don’t know how to thank you, kind sir,” she said.
“That’s alright. I am glad I arrived in time, although God knows what you would have done with that thing,” said James as he pointed to the pistol that lay on a bale of fabric.
The woman laughed. “I always carry it with me. It was my husband’s,” she said.
James caught the past tense and wondered whether her husband had left her or died. She smiled at James and his heart flipped. Her smile was enchanting and so was she. “Are you from Bath?” he asked.
The woman smiled. “I was born and bred in Bath, James Stratton,” she said.
James’s eyes widened when he heard her mention his name. “Who are you and how do you know my name? Pray answer me,” he said. She smiled again and looked at him with her doe-eyes. James thought he had seen those eyes somewhere, but he shook his head and looked at the woman.
“I am Rose Buxton. But you will not recognize my surname, as Buxton was my husband’s surname,” she said and again James caught the word was.
“Rose Buxton,” repeated James as he shook his head. “I am sorry, Mrs. Buxton, but the name Buxton does not ring a bell,” he said.
“It would not, but you would remember me if I say the name Fernside,” she said as she looked straight at James.
For a moment James could not remember her, and he was faintly embarrassed that she should know him and him not her.
“It’s been a long time since you were in Bath last,” she said. “I did not recognize you at first, but when you helped me retrieve my fabrics, I watched you and then it all came back to me. You, Duke Edward and I used to play in the back garden of the castle when we were children,” she said and smiled, as if savoring the memories of the past.
James nodded slowly as his memories of playing at the back of the castle began to unravel before him. Yes, he now remembered the little girl with blond braids tied in rows behind her head, who’d played with Edward and him. “I am sorry, Rose, I did not recognize you at first,” he said.
“That’s alright. Like I said, it’s been a long time since you came to Bath and even when you were here the last time we never had the good fortune of meeting again,” she said. “I used to go with my father to the castle every time he had to deliver fabrics to Her Grace Duchess Louisa Frampton. I remember Mrs. Stratton asking you to play with me,” she laughed.
“I do remember you now,” said James. “A little scrawny girl with braids and two missing front teeth?” he asked and they both laughed.
They sat down on the grass and talked. “Yes, it’s been a long time,” said James.
“You were in the Navy?” she asked.
James nodded. “Yes,” he said.
She eyed his clothing and saw that his coat was soaked and rather weather-beaten.
“What shall we do with this fabric? Would it be safe here until you return tomorrow morning?” he asked.
Rose laughed. “I am sure I would not have even a piece of thread from them if I left the fabric here and returned home. Morgan Follet would have the gift he always wanted, my fabric and my business,” she said.
“Morgan Follet?” asked James.
Rose nodded. “Morgan Follet is my arch rival and competitor. He has his eyes set on my business and those three men you sent away were definitely from his camp,” she said.
“You mean to say that it was this Morgan Follet who sent those men to attack you?” asked James in shock as he looked at Rose.
She nodded slowly. “Morgan’s been after my business ever since my husband died in a terrible accident. The curricle he was traveling in tipped over the cliff,” said Rose.
Ah, so that was the reason for the use of the word was, thought James.
Rose drew up her knees and hugged them, as if she was hugging her past and afraid to let go. She felt her insides flip each time she looked at James and remembered their time together in the past, the past they had shared as children. So innocent and pure. “Why did you leave, James?” she asked softly.
“I had to, and now I feel like a fool for leaving my mother to face the damnation of the accusations thrown at her,” he said.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” said Rose softly.
“My mother was devastated whe
n I told her that I had left the Navy and was going to start a business in Manchester,” he said. “She even refused to see me before I left ten years ago,” he concluded.
“Have you come back to stay?” she asked.
James shook his head. “Oh no, I have come to take Mama to Manchester with me,” he said.
Rose looked at him and smiled. “I don’t think she will want to come that easily,” she said.
“And why is that?” asked James.
“Because the Duke and Duchess of Cumberland do not employ a governess now and Mrs. Stratton looks after the children,” said Rose.
“Oh, is that so?” asked James as he rubbed his chin.
Rose nodded. Her gaze traveled to the rolls of fabric that lay strewn around them. “I need to get these rolls dried before morning,” she said.
James looked at her in astonishment. “Do you intend to stay here all alone throughout the night?” he asked.
Rose nodded. “Yes. This fabric cost me a pretty penny, Mr. Stratton, and I certainly will not see it go to ruin or those men come back and try to steal them again,” she said as she held her head high and then lifted herself off the ground so gracefully resembling a swan taking flight.
“Here, let me help you. Anyway, what do you intend doing to dry these rolls of fabric?” he asked as he stood up and dusted his trousers.
Rose turned to look at James. His presence here disturbed her very much and she’d hoped that he would leave, but by the looks of it, it seemed that he was bent on staying to help her with the rolls of fabric. Moreover, she realized that she could do with a little help. “I have no idea,” she said softly.
Regency Romance: To Capture The Duke’s Heart (CLEAN Historical Romance) (The Inheritance Saga) Page 14
