Once Upon A Regency

by Samantha Grace

  She unraveled the scarf from her head.

  Madeline gasped. “What have you done?”

  “Become someone else. It was necessary in order to remain here undetected.” She passed her hand over the dark knot of her hair. “It will fade away. Someday.”

  “This is outrageous. You are an earl's daughter. What would your friends think if they heard you were doing the work we hire help to do?” Madeline fanned her face. Her cheeks blazed with color. “We are leaving his place immediately. Go upstairs. One of those girls can draw a bath, though heaven knows it will take weeks for that smell to wear off of you. The other can pack your things. The dresses that do not stink. I assume you have something respectable to wear on the journey back?”

  “I am not going.” Eleanor straightened her spine. “I like it here, in a way. I think Lanthrop Downs could become the beautiful place it once was with some hard work. But there is nothing for me in London. I do not wish to attend the remainder of the Season, nor do I hope to find a suitable man to marry there. Until Papa recovers himself—if that day arrives—it is in my best interest to remain here.”

  “Absolutely not.” Madeline closed the distance between them. “You were always the headstrong one. Your father allowed you to run amok over him, but it will not work with me.”

  “What can you do, Aunt Madeline? Lanthrop Downs belongs to my father. I have come here to represent him. I see no way you can force me to leave.” Proud of herself for the argument, she smiled.

  “This place needs no representation by you or your father. There has been an offer to buy it. Mr. Quirty is handling the sale. By next week, it will no longer be this family's possession.” Madeline smirked. “So by default, you must return to London with me or find yourself homeless.”

  The room spun around Eleanor. “Who would want it?”

  “The Duke of Greenebuck. He sent word some time after you disappeared. He cited that the current occupant was not particularly friendly and I realized you must have come here to hide. With Effie making her debut, I couldn't get away and I knew you would present some case to Mr. Quirty if I sent him in my stead.” Madeline's smile turned frosty. “So here we are, the two of us preparing to return to London. When we arrive, I expect not a word of this shameful experience to ever pass between your lips.”

  “Goodwin will not buy it if I beg him not to. I have grown close to the duke. He knows what this place means to me.” Nevertheless, a ripple of fear settled in her chest. How could he have hidden such a thing from her after everything they'd shared?

  Madeline laughed. “Grown close to him as a miserable little shepherdess? I doubt he cares what you have to say about anything. The deal has been struck. You have no alternatives.”

  Panic pinched her. “Papa wouldn't like you selling his property.”

  “Your father's health is our biggest concern now. It takes money to pay for his care. The sale of this estate will go a long way toward that.” Madeline crossed to the doorway. “Enough of this. I am summoning the servants and you will do as I say. Besides, your sisters miss you. We will invent a story to cover this scandal and all will be well again. Though you should consider yourself on a short leash now, my dear. A wedding will take place and you will behave yourself with proper conduct.”

  “A wedding? To who?”

  “Lady Eleanor?” Lizzie, pale as a sheet, slipped through the door. “There's a note for you. It's from the Duke of Greenebuck.”

  Aunt Madeline faced the servant. “Give it to me.”

  Lizzie drew back. “But—”

  Madeline snatched it from the girl's fingers.

  “That is mine.” Eleanor surged forward to get it, but her aunt held it out of reach.

  “Mind yourself. Girl,” she turned to Lizzie again, “heat some water and bring your strongest soap to Lady Eleanor's room. Tell your sister to pack Eleanor's things. We will be departing this evening.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Lizzie disappeared after a curtsy.

  Madeline opened the note. Her eyes moved as she scanned the words.

  Eleanor hadn't thought it possible for her aunt's expression to grow more livid, but by the time she crumpled the paper in her hand, her face turned purple. “You wretched, impulsive girl. You allowed that man to ruin you?” Madeline struck out. Her hand connected sharply with Eleanor's cheek. “Have you any idea the shame you have brought to this family? The things people will say about you. Not only you, but your sisters as well?”

  She lifted her hand to her stinging cheek. Aunt Madeline had never struck her or her sisters. The note had been meant for her eyes only, but even without seeing it, Eleanor guessed what it must have said. Something that tied her to Goodwin as more than a friend.

  “Perhaps I could clarify the situation if you allowed me to read the note. A note meant for me.”

  “Shut your mouth this instant. Upstairs. I do not want to hear another word from you until we reach London.” Madeline pointed at the doorway. “Go.”

  For a moment, Eleanor considered refusing. But she lowered her hand. Go, she would. Right to Glassodder Head, to find Goodwin and demand he stop the sale of the estate. Then she would have Michael throw Madeline off the property. For good.

  We shall see who has the last word on this matter.

  A DUKE WORTH HIS SALT

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ann and Lizzie dumped two steaming buckets of water into the porcelain bathtub. They both cast miserable glances toward Eleanor.

  “I'd have run away from London too, if she were my aunt,” Ann muttered.

  Instead of being scandalized, Eleanor gave the servant a rueful smile. “My plan is to run again. Right down the servants' stairs. If one of you would tell your father to saddle a horse, I am going to—”

  The door swung open. Aunt Madeline raised a set of sheers, a jar, and a bar of lye. “First things first, we are taking care of that mess you have created on your head.”

  Eleanor twisted her braid in her hands. “You're not cutting my hair.”

  Her aunt opened and closed the blades—a sinister sound. “In fact, I am. We are not returning to society with your appearance so altered. We shall remove the unwanted color with lye and vinegar. If it comes out too light, we will tell everyone it was intended. Get in the bath. do not cause a stir. This is entirely your doing.”

  “You cannot make me do anything.” Eleanor tossed her braid over her shoulder. “I am not a child any longer. This is the life I have chosen.”

  Madeline passed the things to Lizzie. “Why must you be so petulant? Compliance is the trait most men look for in a wife. I tried my best to raise you girls right in the absence of your mother.” She came closer, stopping in front of her niece. “Why would you defy me, Eleanor?”

  “Because—”

  Madeline shoved her.

  The back of Eleanor's knees slammed into the bathtub. She toppled into the hot water with a cry. Her back hit the opposite rim and the force stole her breath.

  Madeline snatched the jar from Lizzie, then poured the contents over Eleanor's head.

  The vinegar burned as it streaked into her eyes. Half blind from the tears and pain, she cried out, but Madeline kept her from getting away. Water sloshed over the rim of the tub.

  “Hold still or you might lose more than several inches of hair.” Madeline twisted the braid around her hand. Within a moment, she'd sheered through the length of Eleanor's plait. “You have given me no choice. I will wash the residue of this place from you.” She forced Eleanor's head beneath the water.

  Eleanor fought to capture her aunt's wrists. The sheers fell into the water next to her. Her breath bubbled as she struggled to sit up. Water rushed into her mouth and she coughed, dragging liquid in. I am going to die.

  Madeline pulled her up by the front of her dress. She began to scrub Eleanor's hair with the lye. “If you would only cooperate, this would be easier. You have forced me to do this, you wretched child. Your absence has caused a stir among the ton. Men and woman alike wonder
where you are and what you are up to. There is already speculation. We must quiet it before they begin to suspect scandal.”

  Her nails dug into Eleanor's scalp.

  “Please stop.” She twisted in an attempt to get away, but Madeline jerked her into place again.

  “I hate this house, Eleanor. You have no idea how badly. This is where I came when—” Madeline sneered. “Lord Paling was a gracious host, although I saw the contempt in his eyes. He warned your father to send me away, but fortunately your mother was a more compassionate creature.”

  “I do not understand, Aunt Madeline. Please stop. If you would explain what you are talking about—” Lye and water ran down her forehead, joining the sting of vinegar.

  “I will not allow you to be tarnished the way I was,” Madeline snapped. “Someone approached me for your hand. We will wash away all of these past weeks, get you back to London, and carry on as though it did not happen.”

  Eleanor sputtered. “What do you mean?”

  “Lord Harold Oliver offered to take you off my hands when you return.”

  Eleanor gasped. “He is older than Papa. He's buried three wives. You cannot mean to marry me to him.”

  “He is precisely what you need. A steady hand that won't tolerate any nonsense from you.” Madeline tried to force her beneath the water again.

  Eleanor shoved her.

  When Aunt Madeline fell on her bottom, Eleanor rose from the water. She slipped as she attempted to climb over the edge. Her wool dress made moving difficult, but she threw herself over the side.

  “Get back here!” Madeline tried to grab her niece's skirt.

  “Run, Lady Eleanor.” Lizzie stepped on Madeline's hand.

  Dragging her skirt and dripping water everywhere, Eleanor ran for the servants' steps. Her heart raced and she staggered, her head light as she grasped the handrail, then made her way outside.

  Madeline's carriage still waited in the drive. Eleanor raced toward it.

  “I need you to take me down the road to an estate called Glassodder Head. I must reach it.”

  The coachman's eyes bulged. “I beg your pardon? Why are you all wet?”

  “Lady Madeline had an accident. There is help for her at the next estate. A physician. It is less than a mile by the road. Will you take me, or not? Time matters.” If he refused, she'd have to brave the sandy stretch of beach in the dark. Not a pleasant thought, but she would do it if she had to.

  “Yes, of course.”

  She rounded the side of the carriage, then threw open the door. No sooner was it closed than he set the horses into motion. Though the curtains were drawn, cold penetrated the carriage interior. Her clothes were soaked through and her hair, while much shorter, plastered to her face and neck. She wrapped her arms around herself as she shivered. More than cold, she shook from fear. Madeline had lost her mind. Her aunt, never a warm woman, had become dangerous. Eleanor had looked up to Madeline as a fine example of womanhood. The world seemed more upside down than it did when she'd left Tipperstead End.

  The carriage bounced along the hard road, but the horses carried it swiftly. When Eleanor made out the distant lights glowing in the windows, her heart lifted a bit. Goodwin would save her. She'd have to tell him the truth about everything, but he would protect her from Aunt Madeline.

  Unless he doesn't. Perhaps he wants nothing to do with you. Lie after lie left your lips. He might believe the worst. Might send you packing straight back to Madeline.

  Her fingers, stiff with the cold, ached as she wrang them together while the coachman pulled the horses to a stop.

  The coachman opened the door. “Shall I wait, Miss?”

  “Please.” If he went back to Lanthrop House, Aunt Madeline might force him to tell her where Eleanor had gone.

  “You're freezing. I hope they let you warm by the fire a moment.” He escorted her to the massive oak door of the house.

  “I will be fine.” Even as she said it, tears rolled down her face.

  The door opened before she had the chance to knock. The footman took one look at her, then gestured for her to enter the foyer.

  “What happened?”

  “I must speak to Goodwin immediately.” Her teeth clattered together as she spoke. “There is something amiss at Lanthrop House.”

  “Miss Leah, he's been frantic all evening. He's pacing the parlor. Did you not receive the note he sent?” The footman led Eleanor toward the hall. “He was nearly prepared to ride to Lanthrop House in search of you.”

  “I never saw the note myself, no.” It hardly mattered now. He could tell her what it had said after she explained about her aunt. “I am sorry I worried him, but things are not going well at home.”

  “It appears not. Go to the gentleman's parlor. I'll have the housekeeper bring tea and towels. You must dry off before you catch a chill.”

  Her hair was streaked with lye and she reeked of vinegar. “I should wait here. I will ruin everything in this state.”

  “He will be angry if he doesn't see you immediately. Any of us would rather have to deal with a mess than the duke's temper.”

  Mrs. Murphy, the housekeeper, came down the hall. “Goodness. What happened?”

  Eleanor sniffed. “I am so dreadfully embarrassed by all this.” Tears threatened to spill from her eyes again. “I should not have come here.”

  “Nonsense. Come into the parlor. The duke has broken every society rule under the sun in this house time and again. Why one bedraggled shepherdess should think she's the end of our orderly world is beyond me.” Mrs. Murphy took her arm and pulled her to the parlor. She pounded on the door. “You have a visitor, Your Grace. She's in dire need of some attention. If you can take care of her a moment, I will see to the worst of her needs.”

  The door flew open. Goodwin's face registered his shock. Deep lines etched shadows around his eyes and mouth. His hands were clenched in tight fists. In full dress, he looked gentlemanly, but his cravat was missing and his shirt was unbuttoned nearly to the middle of his chest. His eyes widened as he took in Eleanor. “Dear God, Leah, what's happened?”

  “It is a long story.” Her trembling knees didn't want to hold her much longer. “Could we sit?”

  He ushered her into the parlor. The dark wood panels and heavy furniture screamed of a manly domain. It hardly put her at ease.

  “Come sit near the fire and explain yourself.” He pulled a chair toward the blaze. His nose wrinkled as he caught her scent.

  She wrapped her arms around herself again. “My aunt has come for me as I feared she might. She intends for me to return to London. Had I not argued, this might have been avoided, but Sussex is my home now. I do like it here. And you are here, so...” She clenched her teeth together.

  “London? You claimed you were from Kent.” He kneeled next to her and took her icy hands in his. “What is going on, Leah?”

  She met his gaze, but he blurred as the tears she'd held back sprang up. “My name is not Leah. I am Lady Eleanor Morton. I feared Aunt Madeline would try to bring me back home, but with my father out of his mind, I could not stay there. He threatened me. And now Madeline has threatened me as well. I do not know who to trust.”

  Goodwin took his hands away. He gazed into the fire. “Lord Aldshire is your father. All this time you've pretended to be a shepherdess, and you...deceived me. These last few weeks have been full of lies.”

  She cringed. “I couldn't have her know where I was, Your Grace.”

  “She learned anyway. Now she wants you to return.”

  “She's gone mad. I won't go with her. Do you see? She cut my hair, doused me in vinegar and lye, nearly drowned me.” She sat on the edge of the chair. “Madeline was hardly likable while I lived with her in London, but at least she had her sanity. Perhaps managing my father's affairs is too much for her. It does not matter what's driven her to such anger. I cannot return with her.” Eleanor touched his shoulder. “I need your help. She will come here too. Not until she's cleaned up and composed herself, be
cause she would never go anywhere in the state I did. I beg you, please do not allow her to take me.”

  He rose and turned his back to her. Goodwin braced his arms against the fireplace mantle.

  She curled over herself, resting her face in her hands. “You are my friend, Goodwin. At least, I hope so. I beg your forgiveness for the lies, but you do not know how my father's temper escalated when he saw me and failed to recognize me as his daughter. You do not know what Aunt Madeline plans to do if she catches me. I think she intends to sell me into a poor marriage. I will die before I allow that to happen.”

  “You...” Goodwin remained unmoving. “Well, you've shattered my perceptions.”

  Her heart broke. “I'm so very sorry. There is no way I can make it up to you. The lies were wrong. I knew it. Even Jem tried to get me to admit the truth, but I could not. Daniel, please forgive me.”

  He turned at the sound of his name. “Did you receive my note?”

  She shook her head. “Madeline took it.”

  “Then she knows.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair.

  Another tremor of fear shook her. “Knows what?”

  “That I ruined you. I planned to bring you here tonight so we could discuss whether you would care to be my mistress. But that was when you were Leah.”

  “Oh dear.” The crackle of the fire and the drip of water from her clothes were the only sounds in the room. She wanted to die. Never in her life had she been so embarrassed. The evening couldn't have gone worse.

  Goodwin frowned. “I see you are opposed to that idea. So what must we do now to get Aunt Madeline off your back?”

  “Perhaps I should flee to Kent and continue my shepherdess education.” Her throat scratched as she attempted to hold in her emotions. “If you would not mind throwing her off my scent, I would be eternally grateful. Perhaps you could tell her I went another direction.”

  “For God's sake, Lea—Lady Eleanor, you cannot outrun the woman. You will have to use your head.” Goodwin's shoulders slumped. “There is something we can do. I will give you shelter. The woman is clearly unstable. As wretched as my father, as evidenced by your appearance and frightened demeanor. Anyone would expect me to offer a friendly hand to a woman in need.”