by Sahara Kelly
Lady Adalyn
The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor – Book One
A Reverse Harem Risqué Romance
Sahara Kelly
Dedication
To friends, without whom life would be grey and bleak indeed. And to one in particular, and a conversation that led to the planting of the plot seed that germinated into this story. Thanks, girlfriend. World domination is on the way—but let’s do Atlantis first!
Author’s Note
Set in 1817, this book reflects as accurately as possible the weather that occurred during that time period. The prior year, 1816, had been one of the coldest ever recorded, and while everyone hoped for better conditions in the year to follow, nature refused to obliged and delivered above normal levels of rain. I have worked these into the story in a way that I hope will offer a glimpse into how life must have been when there were few, if any, ways of coping with the capricious whims of nature.
Prologue
January 1817, England
Lady Adalyn Wilkerson’s slender body shivered as she stood in the churchyard. It could have been a reaction to the icy cold drizzle that showed no signs of letting up, shooting chilly fingers of misery down the necks of those gathered in this mournful place.
But it wasn’t. Adalyn’s shivers came from her thoughts, every bit as icy and chilled as the weather.
Two weeks ago, she had turned twenty and become a bride.
Today she was a widow.
She watched the shining coffin containing the earthly remains of her late husband, Sir Ridley Wilkerson, descend slowly into the earth. There were vague mumbles from the Reverend overseeing the interment, who looked every bit as cold and miserable as she felt.
Shock had rendered her speechless, and the thick veil hid the fact that there were no tears falling from her blue eyes as she watched her future vanish. She could not think, could not speak, could only cling to her sanity by a mere thread of hope that something or someone would appear to tell her what to do now.
As the shovelfuls of dirt hit the casket with ugly thuds, she turned away, following the one or two interested parties who decided to join the small service. Having no family of her own to attend, she wondered if there would be others there related to her late husband, who might keep her company during this sad time.
But apparently they cared for her even less than they had cared for him.
Glancing around, she saw one man, perhaps a servant—she wasn’t sure. Two were probably curious local ladies, and last there was the Vicar.
None offered words of comfort, for she was a stranger to them. A young woman of no importance who had caught the eye of an elderly Lord looking for an heir.
With no choice as to her future, Adalyn became Lady Wilkerson, and submitted to her husband’s lustful desires on her wedding night.
She was no longer a virgin. But enjoying his new bride to the fullest had exhausted her husband, and a few days later he’d clutched his chest and tumbled head first into his breakfast.
Terrified, she’d called his valet, and from that moment on her world shattered. There was little for her to do but stand around, wearing the musty black and old fashioned weeds a maid found in the back of a cupboard, and waiting for some clue as to what would happen to her now.
The Wilkerson family was sparse, hence her husband’s desperate wish for offspring. Few came to the house to express sympathy; the two who did were more interested in what she might sell, instead of comforting her.
A lawyer arrived and pontificated greatly, flashing reams and scrolls of paper, and muttering about last wills and testaments and codicils until she wanted to scream and poke his eyes out with the quill he’d placed on the desk in front of him.
She’d understood little and he had not cared enough to elucidate.
So here she was, clad in the only clothing she could now wear, wondering where she would go and what would happen to her. Her parents left for the Continent before the wedding—the settlement had seen to that, and there had been no communication from them since.
She’d expected nothing less. They made it known early in her life that they’d wanted a son, not a useless girl. However, her gender and her virginity rewarded them with the monies they lusted for, so they washed their hands of her and scurried off to Italy.
A servant had given her away at her wedding. Her new husband hadn’t cared.
She stopped in the middle of the churchyard, lost, bewildered, frightened and feeling the tears building behind her eyes, her meagre possessions in a dilapidated bag beside her.
Her hands shook and she tucked them into the ends of the thin scarf she’d wrapped around her neck. The murky grey skies and damp green grasses swam before her eyes and she would have fallen if a strong hand hadn’t caught her in time.
“Here now, Lady Wilkerson. None of that. Let’s get you out of this rain.”
She turned to see an imposing figure at her side. “Who…do I know you, sir?”
“Not yet Ma’am,” he answered gently. “But you will.”
Chapter One
The interior of the carriage seemed like heaven to Adalyn. There were hot bricks by her feet and a luxurious fur blanket waiting for her to snuggle around her shoulders.
She allowed the gentleman to help her inside, and settle her with deferential care. “Thank you, sir. It is indeed a pleasure to feel the warmth.” She glanced at his face. “May I know to whom I speak?” She lifted the veil and pushed it out of the way.
He took a seat opposite her and tapped on the roof, signalling the driver to get underway. As they lurched forward, he smiled, a richly satisfying expression that made her want to smile back.
“I am Giles, my Lady. And I have the honour of being your new butler.”
She blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. It is only to be expected.” He inclined his head. “Did anyone speak to you about any inheritance from your late husband’s estate?”
She shook her head. “A lawyer, Mr. Gisborne, came to see me a couple of days ago. All he told me was that I had to leave Wilkerson House since it was now the property of my late husband’s nephew.”
“And I doubt you’ve ever heard of Wolfbridge Manor?”
At a loss, Adalyn simply widened her eyes.
“Well, my Lady, that estate is now your home.”
She caught her breath. “I can live there?”
“Indeed you can.”
“I don’t understand,” she repeated, her body warming beneath the fur. “If it was left to me, how is it that I was not told?”
Giles smiled and leaned forward, patting her hand. “I shall explain it all to you, my Lady. But for now, why not close your eyes and rest for a while? I’ll wager you’ve had little sleep over the last few days.”
She nodded, her eyelids growing heavy. Her mind whirled behind them, wondering at herself for getting into a strange carriage with a man she’d never met. It was too late to be afraid or sensible—she’d obeyed some instinct instead of thinking clearly. And where was he taking her?
She was so tired. Tired of worrying, of facing a blank wall where her future should have been. Perhaps she had just grasped at the first straw to blow her way. But in her own defence, it had been a kindly one…
The final thing she saw before she succumbed to the inevitable nap was a handsome face watching her from eyes of the warmest brown…
That same face was near as she woke to the feel of a hand shaking her shoulder. “My Lady, wake up. ’Tis time for us to halt our journey.”
Fuzzy and not quite awake, Adalyn tried to hide a yawn. “Mr. Giles. Where are we?”
He helped her straighten on her seat as the carriage slowed. “We’re going to change to our own horses for the last leg, and this is as good a place as any to fortify ourselves.”
Nodding, she glanced from the window. The rain had ceased, but the clouds were still heavy and threatening. They were turning into a busy yard, in front of an inn which boasted of being “The Queen’s Maid”. Other carriages were lined up to one side and there was an air of hustle and bustle over the entire area.
Adalyn’s stomach chose that moment to growl. She blushed. “I do apologise, sir.”
His smile flashed once more, and she was struck with how comforting and warm it was. “My Lady, I am your butler. You must address me simply as Giles.” He briefly laid an affectionate hand over hers. “It is not only correct, but it would give me great pleasure to hear you call me that.”
She couldn’t help but smile back, and missed the warmth of his touch as he withdrew his palm. “Very well Giles.”
“Better,” he approved. “Did you eat breakfast today?”
She had to think about that. “Um…no. No, there wasn’t anyone left at Wilkerson House who could prepare it. The staff had left and the new owners weren’t arriving until tomorrow.”
His face firmed into disapproval. “You mean they left you alone in that mansion with nobody to assist you?”
She shrugged. “At least a carriage was sent to take me to the funeral. I am not very important, Giles. With Sir Ridley Wilkerson’s passing, I became a mere cypher to be hurried out of the house.”
He swallowed, reached for her hands again, and this time took them in a firm clasp. “Not true, Lady Adalyn. Not true at all. But we have arrived…” He nodded and released her as a stable lad opened the door of the carriage for them. “Let us refresh ourselves and continue to our destination. We have much to discuss.”
Unwilling to argue the point since she’d realised that she was, in fact, ravenous, Adalyn allowed him to assist her down to the courtyard. Within moments he whisked her to a private snug, where a warm fire blazed and a maid relieved her of her outer garments. The girl also showed her where she could make herself more comfortable.
After a brief trip to the privy, she returned to discover another servant bringing in an assortment of foods on a tray, overseen by the acute gaze of Giles, who grinned at her when she stepped back into the snug.
“I find myself sharp set, my Lady. I trust you will be able to assuage your own hunger pangs with this repast?”
“Giles,” she whispered, her eyes widening at the golden brown pastry of what looked like a meat pie, the scent of warm bread, the oxtail soup and other delicacies guaranteed to fill the bellies of the travelling public.
“Come. Let me serve you.” He seated her and proceeded to load a plate with a little of everything.
“I cannot possibly manage all this,” she said, shaking her head as the amount of food grew larger.
“Just try, my Lady. You need sustenance.”
“Very well,” she agreed. “Oh, tea…”
He slid a cup to the side of her plate and she greedily sipped, relishing the strong restorative brew.
Sighing with delight, she turned to him. “Giles. Please sit and eat with me? I am not used to having a butler, so for now…would you just be my friend?”
He hesitated and Adalyn prayed she hadn’t offended him.
Finally, as if completing an argument with himself, he drew out the opposite chair and sat. “Very well. This is completely inappropriate, but given the circumstances, I shall beg you to overlook it.”
“Done,” she said, purring over a forkful of meat pie.
They both ate, Adalyn with glee, wishing she had room for lots of everything. But the pie, the fresh bread and the tea did the job for her, filling her belly most satisfactorily.
Giles did justice to the simple but tasty meal, and Adalyn took a few moments to observe him, her thoughts for the first time looking forward, not backward.
He was very handsome, she mused. Dark hair with delightful wings of silver beginning above his ears. It was short, as was the fashion, but thick still, framing a strong face. The eyebrows were also dark, arched above those warm brown eyes.
The surrounding crinkles told of a man who smiled easily, and his lips curved naturally, adding to the pleasant aura he presented. As to his age…she hazarded a guess at around fifty or so. His moustache was neatly trimmed, as was the small goatee on his chin.
“You must be a very good butler,” she said, her thoughts popping out before she realised it.
She blushed and covered her mouth with her hand for a moment. Then, horrified, whispered around it. “I do apologise, Giles, I did not mean to make an unwanted personal remark.”
He shook his head. “Lady Adalyn, you have just paid me a high compliment. Please remember that I am yours to command.”
Something in his eyes, some light, some glow of warmth, touched a nerve inside Adalyn. He was indeed a most attractive man. In many ways.
“In that case,” she ventured a little smile, “I command you to tell me about where we are going and explain some of the things I do not know.”
He finished his tea. “I will. But perhaps it’s best kept for the privacy of the carriage? I’d prefer not to share such business with servants’ ears, and we still have a few hours before journey’s end. That should be time enough for the basics.”
He stood, as did Adalyn. “Very well.” She gathered her things, allowed a maid to help her into her black spencer, and settled her bonnet, tying the ribbons beneath her chin.
“Shall we, my Lady?” Giles extended his arm.
“Yes indeed,” she answered, surprising herself with the willingness she felt to venture onward during this very unusual and confusing day.
Once moving again, Giles seated opposite her, Adalyn asked again. “So the story, please. You promised.”
“Very well.” He settled himself comfortably against the squabs. “Wolfbridge Manor is a small but tidy property, consisting of a house—about a dozen bedrooms—a modest acreage, and several farms, all working, all tenants-for-life. It is almost self-sustaining, and we’re known for our extraordinarily fine berries.”
She smiled. “I do love jam.”
“Then you will be very pleased with the Wolfbridge jams, my Lady. We’ve taken prizes in many fairs, and our cook, Evan, always brings the pride of Wolfbridge to his dishes.”
“You have a male cook?” Adalyn’s eyebrows rose.
“We do,” Giles nodded. “But that’s for a bit later. Right now, you should know that this property has been deeded through generations to a very select group of ladies.”
He leaned back in his seat. “The original owners of Wolfbridge Manor are unknown; estimates say it was built sometime in the fifteenth century. And indeed parts of it are quite ancient. We do have records of Wolfbridges in residence during the Restoration, but the first owners that set the Manor on its current path took up residence around a hundred years ago, during the reign of George the First.”
“Our first Hanoverian monarch,” whispered Adalyn.
“That’s right. You are a student of history?” Giles tilted his head to one side as he asked the question.
She fidgeted a little. “I like to read. It was frowned upon when I was growing up, and although there was a good library at Wilkerson House, I was told I should tend to women’s matters, not wasting my time with my head in a book.” She sighed. “I did manage to pick up a few things though. And reading about history was something I truly enjoyed.”
“Then you will be most pleased with the Wolfbridge library.” He smiled. “And no one will forbid you access to all the books you please.”
She shook her head. “You’d better finish your story first, if you would. I’m finding all this rather hard to believe.”
He nodded. “Very well then. Baron Wolfbridge and his Lady set the place to rights, and then got involved with Jacobites. Which, sadly, resulted in the death of his Lordship. The w
idowed Baroness Wolfbridge was beset from all sides with suitors, since the land was in good heart and she was now available.”
“Poor woman,” commented Adalyn sympathetically. “It must have been a sore trial for her.”
“Well, not really. She had a will of iron. She refused all offers of marriage, turned all potential husbands away, and ran the estate herself. She had no heirs, and adamantly rejected all the suggestions of the lawyers who produced a number of potential relatives who might have inherited.”
“A strong woman indeed.”
“At last, she realised that she had to do something. And at that very time she heard about a young woman who had just been widowed and was facing some of the troubles she herself had experienced. It happened that this poor girl was a distant relation. She summoned several distinguished lawyers, and told her servants to find this woman and bring her to Wolfbridge.”
Adalyn held her breath. The story had her spellbound, and Giles told it well, with such style that she could almost see herself there a hundred years before.
“The young woman was naturally astounded by Wolfbridge Manor. And even more so when she learned that it was to be hers.”
“Oh my,” exclaimed Adalyn.
“Lady Wolfbridge decided to turn her beloved home into a sanctuary of sorts. She decreed that henceforth, the property was to be used to house women who had suffered the same fate as herself and the young woman who now resided with her. Women who face an uncertain future—like yourself—through no fault of their own. Women upon whom Society has turned its back, leaving them alone, homeless and practically destitute.” He paused, a dramatic breath of silence. “I imagine the august legal minds were somewhat taken aback and there must have been plenty of relatives eager to overturn the entail. None succeeded. And that has always suggested to me that she had a great deal of help from higher places.”
“You believe there might have been some political influence?” Adalyn tilted her head to one side.
“Either that or a word or two in the right ear from a member of Royalty.” He shrugged. “I can only guess—there are certainly no indications of any such thing. But it is written into the entail of the estate, and since then, Wolfbridge has been handed down to women who have a connection, no matter how slight, to the original Wolfbridge line. With that iron-clad stipulation legally placed on record, matters were settled. Although unique, the lawyers obeyed Lady Wolfbridge and established the succession of the estate so as to preclude any attempts to have it removed or reworded. Some tried to break it from time to time, but they failed. Eventually they gave up.”
