Three Rogues and Their Ladies - A Regency Trilogy

by G. G. Vandagriff

  “Yes, Aunt Sukey! Oh, bless you for coming!”

  “Young man, if you know what’s good for you, you will unlock this door instantly!” Caro heard a commanding voice through the door. It was a man’s voice.

  Then there was the sound of the door being unlocked. When it was thrown open, Caro looked at the assembled party.

  “Uh, your grace!” With her bound hands, she tried to raise her duvet to cover her night rail. Before her stood Aunt Sukey’s one-time swain and present day knight, the portly duke of Devonshire. In his arms he was, for some unknown reason, holding Henry Five. Beside him stood Aunt Sukey, armed with a poker, which seemed far more sensible. Of Harry, there was now now sign, but she heard boots clattering down the stairs.

  Aunt Sukey stormed into the room and began untying the knots that bound Caro.

  “You shall hang for this!” bellowed the duke of Devonshire in the direction of the stairs.

  “Has he interfered with you, Miss Braithwaite?”

  “No,” she said. “Although he did drug me.”

  “Smart thinking, my gel, to cry out the window. What a fortunate thing that I live next door.” Sukey finished untying the knots. “Now, just you keep your bedclothes around you. We’ll take you down by the back way and through the mews to our house. Clarice has ordered beef tea and bread pudding. That ought to set you up!”

  As soon as she was free of her bonds, Caro threw her arms around her aunt and hugged the little woman until her iron gray ringlets bounced.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  IN WHICH OUR HERO RECEIVES LORD HARRY

  Awakening the next morning with a headache to remind him of his overindulgence in his brandy the night before, the duke of Beverley castigated himself. It did no good to dwell on horrors. He needed his wits about him.

  After bathing and dressing himself, his valet still in Cornwall, he ate a scratch breakfast and went to call on Jack at Northbrooke House.

  “Seems to me, the only course we have open to us is to haunt White’s,” he said to his friend, who was finishing a sirloin. “That’s the only place we know he will eventually turn up, according to Cleaverings.”

  “Well, time is passing,” Jack said, consulting his pocket watch. “It’s gone eleven. Suppose we get over there.”

  It was a tedious business, waiting. Ned paced through the rooms like a dog in search of his bone. Jack played solitaire at a table with a view of the entrance. Mid-afternoon, they partook of luncheon.

  Beverley finally gathered from gossip that was going forth in the subscription room that Lord Harry was engaged in a curricle race that afternoon. That meant he could not be pestering Caro at this time, at least. Looking in the betting book, he was heartily glad to see that the kidnapper was not favored to win the contest.

  “We can look for him in the late afternoon or early evening, I believe,” he told Jack. “He’s racing to Richmond this afternoon.”

  At five o’clock, Cleaverings arrived, looking hunted. His normal cheerful bearing had deserted him. “I spent the day trying to run down Harry’s man of business, with no luck. Thought I might be able to locate Harry’s property. But he usually comes here for dinner, so we may see him soon.”

  * * * *

  When Lord Harry at last strode through White’s welcoming vestibule, he blanched at the sight of his parent with Beverley and Northbrooke. They immediately encircled him.

  Ned said, “Unless you wish me to have your guts for garters, you will take us to Miss Braithwaite immediately.”

  The young lord licked his lips and looked up at Beverley. “She has gone off with the Duke of Devonshire and his blighted tortoise. Not to mention a very odd woman she referred to as Aunt Sukey. She is quite safe.”

  “What have you done to her?” his father asked him.

  “Nothing, beyond giving her a carriage ride.”

  “I don’t believe you,” the duke said, feeling menace growing within him. “You realize kidnapping is a capital offense?”

  “You would have Caro’s name bandied about the ton?”

  “We could manage a private ceremony,” Ned told him.

  Cleaverings intervened. “I propose this: we all go to the young lady’s aunt’s house to obtain Miss Braithwaite’s version of events. If she is unharmed, Northbrooke and I will see this man, who surely is no spawn of mine, on a ship bound for India or the West Indies this very night, never to show his face in England again. If she has been harmed, I myself will second you at your duel, your grace. I suggest swords. Harry is a poor man with a sword.”

  Lord Harry’s look at his father was poisonous. “What kind of parent are you?”

  “Not a very good one, it seems. I raised a serpent for a son.” Gripping the young man’s arm above the elbow, he steered him out of White’s.

  Ned and Jack followed. His anger still hot, Ned swung his fist, landing Harry a facer.

  The villain crumpled on the front steps of the club.

  “I’ve been wanting to draw your cork ever since I first caught you leering at Miss Braithwaite.” He threw his handkerchief on top of his victim whose nose was bleeding copiously. “And should I find that you did indeed interfere with her in any way, you will be a dead man, despite your father’s wishes.”

  Jack signaled a large hackney. He gave the address of Blossom House, Caro’s aunt’s residence.

  Ned’s feelings were a compound of jubilation, anxiety, and dread. How would he find Caro? Had Harry mistreated her? If so, what effect would it have had on her? Was she hurt? Would she feel forever soiled? Would she shrink from any man’s touch? He would not blame her if she did.

  Though it might take years to overcome her abhorrence, he hoped he would be able to be patient and loving with her. He would certainly protect her from the cruelty of society. If the incident had become known, they would retire to Cornwall. He wanted nothing more than to provide succor and healing for the woman he loved so completely.

  His hatred toward Harry was unlikely to subside during his lifetime.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  REUNION REDUX

  Upon arriving at her aunt’s, Caro desired nothing so much as a bath. Afterwards, she borrowed a night rail from Kate’s Aunt Clarice, Aunt Sukey’s companion. She had no idea what she was to wear the following day. Aunt Clarice was a large lady, and Aunt Sukey was tiny.

  Aunt Sukey’s maid, Jones, brought her a suitably large dinner on a tray. There was butternut squash soup, grilled trout, a game hen, and fresh bread. Caro was remarkably hungry.

  While she ate, she thought of Ned. How could she let him know where she was? He was probably imagining every manner of disaster. She shivered. She was very lucky indeed that she had not had to put to the test the tenets of self-defense she had learned from Jack.

  When she had barely finished her soup, she heard a commotion in the vestibule.

  Aunt Sukey was calling, “Young man, I do not care who you are, you cannot go up there!”

  And then she heard boots on the stairs. Harry, again? Hastily, she got up from her table, went to the door and bolted it.

  Moments later the boots were in the corridor. To her relief, she heard Ned’s voice.

  “Caro? Where are you? I need to see you.”

  Unbolting her door, she stuck her head out, careful to keep her person modestly out of sight. “I am here, Ned. But not presentably attired!”

  He strode to her door. “Did he . . . did that monster interfere with you in any way?”

  Ned looked so distraught, his expression tugged at her heart. “No, love. Have you no faith in my defensive capabilities? He did not try, but if he had, he would have been seriously injured. Jack taught me well. He was an exceptionally useful playmate.”

  Relief shone in Ned’s countenance. “Caro, I am in serious need of reassurance. I must hold you in my arms.”

  It was, after all, a very modest night rail. Looking both directions down the hall, she opened the door, inviting the duke into her sitting room. Once there, he sufficiently
demonstrated his vast relief that she was found and unharmed.

  Holding her in his arms, he whispered into her hair, “You never cease to amaze me. I do not think you were afraid for a moment. But you have no idea what horrors I have imagined.”

  “You must learn to have more faith in me, my love, or you will be gray before our first child is born.”

  “Do you plan to make a habit of being abducted?”

  “The world is a dangerous place. And they tell me I am the Incomparable. Who knows what may happen?”

  He held her away from him, looking into her face. “Wretch! I believe you enjoy tormenting me!”

  “Not really,” she said, caressing his still-black hair and looking into his very blue eyes. “I love you dearly and must tease you out of your fears, that is all.”

  “Do you think we can find a break in the drama in order to stage a wedding? And perhaps a decently lengthy honeymoon?” he asked, cupping her face with his hands.

  “We must both apply our minds to it.”

  “Let us make a bargain,” he said, bringing his lips down to hers.

  Caro responded, giving herself wholeheartedly into his care and keeping. Being loved by the fifth duke of Beverley was no small thing. A young lady must give it her full attention, after all.

  The End

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  G.G. Vandagriff is a traditionally published author who has recently gone indie. She loves the Regency period, having read Georgette Heyer over and over since she was a teen. G. G. is already at work on her fourth Regency romance. She also has a great many fans of her earlier books, particularly the award-winning The Last Waltz and The Only Way to Paradise, who are anxious to read sequels! And her mystery fans are always urging her to write another book featuring her wacky genealogical sleuths, Alex and Briggie.

  Obviously, G.G. likes to genre hop! In addition to her fiction, she has written two nonfiction works. She also writes a twice-monthly column for the on-line magazine Meridian as well as being a guest columnist for the Deseret News.

  She studied writing at Stanford University and received her master's degree at George Washington University. Though she has lived many places throughout the country, she now lives with her husband, David, a lawyer and a writer, on the bench of the Wasatch Mountains in Utah. From her office she can see a beautiful valley, a lake, and another mountain range. She and David have three grown children and three delightful grandsons.

  After playing with, reading to, and doing crafts with her grandchildren, her favorite pastime thing is traveling with her husband. She goes to Italy once a year for medicinal purposes (and research--read The Only Way to Paradise). She has recently added Istanbul and Barcelona to her list of favorite places. G.G.’s favorite classic authors are Tolstoy, Charlotte Bronte, and Jane Austen. Her favorite contemporary authors are A. S. Byatt, John Fowles, Marisa de los Santos, Emily Giffin, and Candice Hern.

  Visit G.G. at her website http://ggvandagriff.com, where you can see pictures of her travels, read excerpts of her books, and sign up to receive her newsletter. You can also read her blog,ggvandagriff.com/blog, and sign up to follow. She has an author page on Facebook (G.G. Vandagriff-Author) and on Goodreads and Amazon. She loves to hear from her fans!

  OTHER BOOKS BY G.G. VANDAGRIFF

  The Taming of Lady Kate

  The Duke’s Undoing

  The Last Waltz—New Edition

  The Only Way to Paradise

  Pieces of Paris

  The Last Waltz

  Suspense

  The Arthurian Omen—New Edition

  Foggy with a Chance of Murder

  The Arthurian Omen

  Alex and Briggie Mysteries

  The Hidden Branch – New Edition

  Tangled Roots—New Edition

  Poisoned Pedigree—New Edition

  Of Deadly Descent—New Edition

  Cankered Roots—New Edition

  Hidden Branch

  Poisoned Pedigree

  Tangled Roots

  Of Deadly Descent

  Cankered Roots

  Non-Fiction

  Deliverance from Depression

  Voices In Your Blood: Discovering Identity Through Family History

  Praise for G.G. Vandagriff’s Work

  The Last Waltz

  G.G. Vandagriff completes her story using vivid word pictures. Ms. Vandagriff’s latest offering is very appropriately titled. Like the waltz, the storyline picks the readers up and twirls them from plot twist to plot twist in what is, at times, almost a dizzying rate of speed.

  Although the tenor of The Last Waltz is somewhat different than this author’s previous books, it does have one trait similar to the author’s previous writings. For those readers who like to “cheat” by peeking at the end of the book, it is almost a guarantee that they will put two and two together and come up with nine. With many authors, one can skim through the final pages of a book and sum up a story. One thing that seems to be common throughout Ms. Vandagriff’s books is her ability to weave so many elements so tightly that one cannot arrive at the proper conclusions without actually reading her books from cover to cover.

  The Last Waltz illustrates the value of so many different kinds of love . . . companionship, empathetic love, protective and secure love, and of course, that vibrant first love. This book is not necessarily the happily ever after type of love story that causes teen hearts to flutter. Although the sheer determination of the heroine makes one feel that the endings scattered throughout this book are not necessarily tragic, this is truly a romance of more than the star struck lover variety.

  —AML Review

  What is by far the strength of Ms. Vandagriff’s writing is her ability to create characters that pull you into the story, until you become a part of that story yourself. I read somewhere that if a reader wants to see two characters fall in love, then they have to fall in love with both of those characters. And I find that this is a truism for all of fiction—and doesn’t just relate to the event of falling in love. The more enmeshed the reader becomes with the characters—the more wrapped up they will be with the story itself. And in this book there is little doubt that this was the case. There were times I wanted to throw the book against the wall, times I was deliberately ignoring people because they were interrupting the “best part,” (which, by the way was nearly the whole book—and there were certainly more than one.) and at times I would laugh, cry, mourn, and rejoice with the characters. But what is amazing is how well the characters worked into the historical setting itself.

  —The Bookworm’s Library

  I was immediately drawn into a chaotic world of love and war—an interesting juxtaposition. I kept reading if only to discovered how the story would end. But along the way I encountered several themes which ran throughout the novel. What does it mean to be in love? Is it true that you can give yourself completely to another person only once, as Amalia’s uncle states? What does it mean to be part of a family—especially when family members keep secrets? How can one find strength to make good choices and persevere in the face of adversity? How can we avoid the tragedy of becoming, as one character says, “less than we were born to be”? Norman Mailer wrote the following: “I feel that the final purpose of art is to intensify—even, if necessary, to exacerbate—the moral consciousness of people. In particular, I think the novel at its best is the most moral of the art forms.” I think “The Last Waltz” confirms Mailer’s statement: It asks us to look inside ourselves and to examine the state of our own moral consciousness.

  —Joan Petty (Five Stars)

  Pieces of Paris

  “It was the simple things that undid her, Annalisse had discovered. Something as ordinary as the scent of lilacs when the air was heavy, a brief measure of Tchaikovsky, or a dream. A dream like the one she’d awakened from last night—so real she could smell the Paris Metro in it. Any of these things could revive in a moment the memories she’d spent the last six years burying. They crept under the leaden shield aro
und her heart and found the small, secret place where she still had feeling.”

  From the first paragraph Pieces of Paris gripped me. The story, by G.G. Vandagriff, didn’t matter then, the writing had enchanted. And then, I realized, the story did matter. Very much. I was carrying this book around with me everywhere I went.

  Pieces of Paris is about environmental abuses, narrow-mindedness, narcissism, bigotry, tragic memories, loyalty, vindication, rediscovered faith, love, resolution, and peace. It’s about a husband and wife, who learn that the best way to resolve the challenges of life is with each other. And with God.

  —Susan Dayley, Looking Out My Backdoor (Five Stars)

  GG Vandagriff once again explores the intensity of human emotion, delivering a powerful story of second chances, the gift of forgiveness, and the depth of true love. This well-crafted story is absorbing from page one and the characters powerful and relatable.

  Pieces of Paris is a literary symphony, a cacophony of words that delves into the hearts of all of us, as Annalisse and Dennis fight to reestablish the rhythm of their marriage. An emotionally engaging and unforgettable journey.

  —H.B. Moore, Multi-Award Winning Novelist (Five Stars)

  Weaving together powerful truths and psychologically driven fiction, GG Vandagriff’s Pieces of Paris takes readers on an emotional ride that winds through the darkest recesses of painful memories, plunges into unexpected realities, then climbs to breathtaking vistas of understanding, forgiveness and love.

  Vandagriff has a true gift of words and paints glorious scenes and intense emotion in this well-paced, gripping drama. This powerful story of second chances, the gift of forgiveness, and the depth of truth will resonate with readers of all ages and stations in life.