The Elusive Lady Winston (Regency Rendezvous Book 5)

by Layna Pimentel

  He nodded. Evan didn’t know if he was cursed or blessed from the moment he met her, his scandals intensified and became more troublesome than before. Women complicated life. Just wait until Emberly had a good dose of Annabelle after their honeymoon; he was guaranteed to hide in White’s for hours on end.

  * * *

  It was nearly daybreak when they pulled up to his courtyard and a handful of male servants, including Emberly, attended to him.

  “Dear God, Radcliffe. You have been shot!”

  “How good of you to notice. Has there been any word on Eliza?”

  “None other than she is worried for you and is waiting for word until it is safe to return to you.”

  “Let the physician do what he must, and once all is cleared, have her brought back. I do not want her to fret in my current condition.”

  They carried him to his room where the physician had been waiting patiently. The doctor tore his shirt off and pursed his lips.

  “It’s a bloody miracle you are still awake. Most men would have swooned at the sight of so much blood,” he noted while poking and pinching the tissue around his wound.

  “Someone fetch me a pitcher of water and the man a drink. He will need it.”

  A moment later, someone raised a glass of wine to his lips. He did not bother looking at what the doctor had been doing in fear of swooning.

  “I need three strong men to hold him down while I attempt to pull out the bullet.”

  Emberly and two footmen stood before him and awaited their orders. Lord almighty. Today is going to be a long day and agonizing.

  * * *

  “What do you think you are doing, Eliza? You cannot go just yet!” Mary pleaded with her blocking her exit from the bedroom.

  “I cannot just sit here while he is home suffering alone. Dear God! What if the man is dying… I could not live with myself not knowing, holding or seeing him one last time.”

  “Quit being so dramatic, Eliza. You heard the news just as well as I did… That horrible woman escaped the carriage while being transported. Do you honestly think she will not come for you after her plans being foiled?”

  Eliza struggled to maintain her composure, yet she simply had to burst. She fell to her knees into a heap of skirts and sobbed into her hands.

  Escaped.

  The woman who planned this mad plot to marry Evan had escaped. What illness would drive a woman to those lengths? She would surely return to the manner and try and kill Evan, most assuredly.

  Eliza could feel it in her heart he was not safe.

  “Mary, I must go at once. If you wish to accompany, then please do, otherwise I want to leave immediately.”

  Eliza’s nerves could not take another minute being apart from her love.

  “Eliza, this is madness, you know not if she has hired other men… This is lunacy! Haversham…where are you?”

  Her cousin shouted loud enough for servants to come running.

  “Yes, my love, what appears to be the issue?” Haversham appeared in the doorway, not pleased at all having been interrupted from reading.

  “Talk some sense into her. She wants to return to the estate and now!”

  “Mary, calm yourself. Eliza is one of the most sensible people I know.” Haversham turned to her. “If it will put you at ease, my lady, we will all travel together.”

  Eliza quickly gathered her things while Haversham went off and had their servants prepare their journey. At last! She would see him in a short while and never leave his side.

  * * *

  As Eliza and the Havershams exited the carriage, she noticed something off about the dower house in the distance. She had noticed two people standing idle as if guarding the home. She would certainly confirm with Evan if he arranged it all, if not, she would send several servants over to investigate and see if the dowager countess was well.

  They entered the estate when Annabelle ran to her in an embrace.

  “Oh, Eliza! I am glad you came. He has been drifting in and out of sleep since the doctor left.”

  “Take me to him, please.”

  Eliza smiled and followed Annabelle upstairs. Servants waited in the hall for new instructions for their master while Emberly appeared agitated and took Haversham aside.

  When Annabelle pulled the door open, Evan was sound asleep.

  She moved a chair next to the bed and held his hand for a period when she noticed servants rushing to and fro from the dower house with buckets. Another carriage had appeared but she could not see from where she was seated.

  Eliza placed her trust in Emberly and Haversham to sort the matters at whilst she sat with her beloved. She nodded off but became started when the door slammed shut. Eliza turned to find Evan slowly waking up and Lady Amelia on the other side of the bed holding a pistol.

  “I should have known you would have returned. At least my little distraction at the dower house paid off.”

  Evan’s eyes widened with horror and Eliza finally understood what was happening earlier. When she and the Havershams first arrived.

  “You really should not have troubled yourself, Lady Amelia. On second thought, no lady is as despicable as you,” Eliza said slowly raising from her seat.

  “Sit down, you whore. Once I am done with him, you are next.”

  “Do you honestly think you can waltz out of here unnoticed after your troubles at the dower house? Are you so foolish that you did not consider the consequences?”

  Evan went to leave the bed but Eliza held him back. “You need your strength, my love, be easy.”

  “He is not going to need anything where he is going,” the woman snarled, lifting the pistol.

  Before Eliza could blink the door burst open and Constable Peabody aimed his own gun at the woman.

  “Put your weapon down, Amelia. This charade is over.”

  Yet, the woman who now faced the constable turned the gun on him. Before Eliza could catch her breath, Evan flung himself at the woman causing the gun she held to go off.

  “Get off me at once.” She growled and wriggled beneath him.

  The constable kicked the gun away from her reach and pulled her up off the floor and hauled her out of the room. They were then joined by his mother, sister, and Emberly who all helped him up.

  Eliza took a step forward to help, but the room spun and all went dark.

  *

  When she came to she was back in her room and Evan’s mama was at her side.

  “Your lips are parched, Lady Winston. Allow me to pass you some water.”

  “You have my gratitude, Lady Radcliffe. Though, I do not understand why you are not with your son.”

  “He thought it best I stay with you and, in an odd way, I am glad. I misjudged your character, Eliza, and I, too, remember what it was like to be married young. You have been a great influence on my daughter as well. She seems happy enough though I will never understand this concept of finding happiness before marriage. What does happy and love have to do with financial security and society?” The woman prattled on under her breath as she brought the cup to her lips.

  “Will you be staying on with us then, here at the house?”

  “No. That evil woman did not accomplish enough damage to drive me from the cottage. Besides, I am quite happy for my own space and peace. I can come and go as I please and receive my own guests without judgment.”

  Now that caught Eliza’s attention. “I see. Can I at least ask you to dine with us this evening?”

  “That would be lovely but I have already made plans for tonight. Another time perhaps.”

  Eliza nodded and whispered, “Thank you for your kindness, Lady Radcliffe.”

  The woman rose and left like nothing had happened. A blessing in disguise she supposed.

  She leaned back to get comfortable and closed her eyes. While she heard the door open and then close Eliza continued to rest, not bothering to look until there was weight added to the bed.

  Knuckles brushed her cheek. Evan was the only one who touc
hed her in that manner. When she opened her eyes, her gaze met his in a pool of love and warmth.

  “You should be resting, my love.”

  “As should you, but I would much rather have a nap here than with Annabelle and Mary fretting over me.”

  Eliza giggled and pulled him closer. “I suppose no harm can come from you laying down for a while, above the blankets that is.”

  He pouted and then laughed. “Is that how it is to be?”

  “Until we are married, yes. However, you can always sneak in at night while the house is asleep.”

  “Now that, my dear,” he inched closer behind her and whispered in here, “sounds like the best idea I have heard all day.”

  ###

  Take a peek at the next Regency Rendezvous Romance

  Wreck and Ruin

  Amy Corwin

  Love and laughter lead to an unexpected rendezvous with a marquess

  Society may not approve of a spinster establishing her own home, but the ton hasn’t meet Hannah. Her audacious plans go awry, however, when her ship sinks off the coast of Cornwall. She barely escapes wreckers, led by a man wearing a griffin ring, only to find herself alone and bereft of possessions—and her reputation. When Lord Blackwold and his grandmother grant her refuge, she’s horrified to discover that the attractive marquess is one of four men wearing a griffin ring like that of the wrecker leader.

  A strange accident, the specter of social ruin, and Blackwold’s annoying betrothal upset Hannah’s plans, but they don’t stop her. Despite great danger, she determines to unmask the wrecker’s leader and set her own course. She fears her trust in the marquess may be misplaced, but her heart insists that his love will light the way home.

  Chapter One

  February 18, 1828, Coast of Cornwall

  The ship lurched beneath Hannah’s feet, and the small box containing her jewelry flew out of her hands as her shoulder hit the wall of her cabin. Her mother’s emerald and diamond necklace sparkled as it tumbled out of the box, random shafts of light catching the stones as the lantern swung wildly above her head.

  She caught the edge of her bunk with cold fingers. The shriek of wooden timbers splintering against sharp-edged rocks broke through the maelstrom of howling wind and waves. Her stomach roiled sickeningly. Water slammed into the door of her cabin, rattling the flimsy barrier and rushing underneath to wash over the floor and saturate her delicate white satin slippers.

  Already dressed for dinner—for her last dinner—aboard the Orion before it was to dock in Liverpool in the morning, she held on to a bedpost as the floor tilted beneath her feet. How could they wreck this close, go down just eighteen hours before she was due to reach England?

  The ship bucked again, throwing off her question with a disdainful shrug and sending her falling onto her bed.

  The necklace twined between her fingers as she clutched at the heavy coverlet, trying to regain her balance. Another wave pounded at her door and the ship tilted so sharply that, for a few seconds, the door slid into the floor’s position.

  We’re going down! Without thinking, her hands scrabbled over the bed, snatching up her jewelry and tying it in her handkerchief. She stuffed it into a plain linen pocket, which she tied around her waist, not caring that it was over the thin white silk of her dress rather than properly hidden beneath her skirts. Her glance flew to the large, hump-backed chest in the corner. The swaying light cast huge black shadows over the walls as her cabin shuddered. Timbers creaked and snapped as the vessel cracked against jagged rocks.

  My papers—money! There was no time. Even as she threw herself at her trunk, the door burst open. Sea water flooded in. A world glimmering in gold and black swirled around her before the light was extinguished. An icy wave battered her against the wall and then pulled her out into the darkness, plunging her into the ocean.

  Spars, a broken mast, and debris slammed into her as she kicked furiously, trying to get her mouth above the cold waves. Her eyes stung. All she could do was plunge under the swirling surface and kick furiously, trying to escape the pull of the sinking ship. Pushing upward, she gasped for air, freezing rain cutting against her cheeks and forehead.

  A twinkle of light—a distant golden glow flickered amidst the swirling gray and black of the storm. Her heart leapt. Someone had seen the ship foundering against the rocky shoreline—someone had come to help! With strong strokes, she slipped through the crashing waves, blinking saltwater and rain out of her eyes as she fixed her gaze on that small yellow spark.

  Something rough and yet yielding brushed her arm. A sodden, woolen coat. Another survivor? She grabbed at it, pulling it closer, only stare into the flat dead eyes of a sailor, the skin on the side of his face ripped and flapping loosely in the water, the flesh already drained of blood. Recognizing him with horror, she thrust him away and kicked toward the sharp, black teeth of the rocks guarding the shore.

  Despite her efforts, the storm was reluctant to let Hannah escape so easily. Waves tumbled around her, teasingly drawing her away from the flickering light, only to toss her back against the rocks like an old, discarded doll. Her hands and arms stung from the salt and icy rain. The outcroppings were so sharp and so slippery with seaweed and water that she couldn’t pull herself out, couldn’t find a way to fight against the push and pull of the violent seas.

  Part of a broken mast hit her back. She sucked in a mouthful of saltwater in a gasp of pain. Coughing and spitting out water, she grabbed hold of the spar, the wood smooth under her bruised hands. Sputtering, she kicked wearily—or thought she was kicking. Her limbs were so cold that she could no longer feel her feet.

  Her body shook—her muscles no longer obeyed her—and the thought of giving up yanked at her. Was she even still holding on? She shifted her hands clumsily, locking her elbow over the bit of wood. A huge, black boulder loomed ahead of her.

  No!

  Thud! The tip of the mast hit the rock, jarring her. She tightened her grip and kicked wearily, wedging the spar between two massive stones. The toe of her right foot hit a small shelf beneath her, enough to stand tiptoe upon, but not high enough to give her purchase to scramble over the tumble of stones.

  But it was enough to give her a moment to catch her breath.

  “Any others?” a man’s deep voice sliced through the gale.

  She raised her head, her mouth open, but water rushed over her lips. She spit it out.

  Yes—me! I’m here! The thought screamed through her.

  In the fitful light, she could see broad shoulders draped in a heavy cloak. A wide-brimmed hat hid the man’s face, and the fitful light made it impossible to see more than his general, slouching shape, but her hands tightened around the wood she clung to, hope flaring in her chest.

  Rescuers! Someone had seen the ship—someone was trying to help them.

  “An officer,” another man replied before she could speak. “Clinging to a rock.”

  A sharp cry caught in Hannah’s throat, the sound lost amidst the wailing of the wind and crashing of the waves. An officer! First Officer Edward Trent?

  Her thoughts surged with hope. He’d been so kind to her during the month-long voyage from Boston, he’d even taken the time from his duties to bring her a cup of tea when she’d felt ill the first day out from port. And he’d survived—thank God! She wasn’t the only one, there were others. There had to be!

  “Push him off, then.”

  “But—”

  “You have a club—use it.”

  What? The stark coldness and inhuman contempt in the man’s words made Hannah’s aching fingers stiffen. She tightened her arm around the broken mast, trying to stay afloat as her limbs shook uncontrollably.

  Think! She must have misheard them—they couldn’t possibly intend to murder a man as he struggled out of the punishing sea. Her mind whirled uselessly, terror making coherent thought as slippery as an eel.

  All she could think about was Officer Trent’s kind eyes. A surge of panic tore her breath away.

/>   What about her companion, Mrs. Lawrence, and her maid? Surely, they were alive somewhere, had managed to make it to shore. These men wouldn’t murder the helpless women, would they? The thought stalled in her mind, with the sickening certainty that if they used their clubs on Officer Trent, they were unlikely to leave anyone else alive.

  Anyone.

  Her mouth clamped shut as another wave washed over her face. She had to get out of the water soon, before she lost all strength and vitality. Her body was shaky and weak—she couldn’t hold her precarious perch much longer.

  An ugly chuckle greeted the closest man’s remark, and the second man said, “The rock that caught him took care of him right and proper. Smashed his head in for us. No need to do nothing ‘cept watch.”

  “Watch, then, and take care there are no other survivors. Her cargo is our only interest.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  A glint of light caught Hannah’s attention. The man had placed his hand on the rock above her. A ring glinted in the false lights they’d set along the shore to trap the Orion. She stared at it. An animal face with dark eyes framed with wings. An animal as odious as the man wearing the ring.

  I’ll remember that—never forget it.

  The hand disappeared, but the pounding of the waves, rain, and rocks around her obscured his departure.

  And kept her safe from his notice.

  Her heart hammered in her chest. She couldn’t tell if he was standing amidst the rocks above her, or had moved further down the beach to search for the cargo washed to shore by the storm. If they’d murdered anyone else from the ship—her companion or other friends—she couldn’t hear that, either.

  She was grateful for that small mercy.

  A strong undertow pulled at her feet and skirts, trying to yank her back into the ocean. The tension that had given her a small surge of hot energy faded beneath the cutting sheets of rain sluicing over her frozen cheeks.

  She was risking her life to return to deeper water, but she couldn’t stay where she was. The men might return and see her.