by Ella Edon
“Hush, daughter,” he assured her, then grinned. “I came with the coach. Harris brought me – a favor before he traveled West on his own little holiday. What? Can’t spare room for an old rascal, eh?”
“Father!” she hugged him again, and started weeping. She had never seen him looking this well! It was so wonderful to see him! Especially now, when she suspected she might be carrying a child. “Of course, you can stay! As long as you want.”
He grinned. “Thanks, daughter. I’m glad to be here. I don’t know how long I’ll stay, yet.” He shrugged.
Emilia chuckled. “Stay as long as you like.”
“Good. With Hestony out this way, I couldn’t very well miss the fun.”
“I suppose,” she observed. She felt a pang of nerves at the mention of her cousin, remembering that shadow, that jealous face. But what could she do?
“It’s so good to see you,” she said. “You look so well.”
“I never felt better, daughter. I’m so happy. And I can see you are, too.”
“Yes, Father,” Emilia agreed. “I am so happy.”
They walked arm-in-arm out to the terrace and into the sunlight together.
Extended Epilogue
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Afterword
Thank you for reading my novel, Abducted by a Fiery Lady. I really hope you enjoyed it! If you did, could you please be so kind to write a review HERE?
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Do you want more Romance?
Turn on the next page to read the first chapters of my first time novel: The Duke's Darkest Desire
It’s a tale of forbidden passion, friendship, heartbreak, and danger. Two persons, that as they grow closer, they put themselves and everyone they love at risk…
* * *
The Duke's Darkest Desire
Chapter One
Lord Henry Huntington Duke of Richmond, walked through the merchant's street, his brows creased with worry. He wondered where his coach was. Ferguson, his footman, had promised to arrive in half an hour, after his business meeting. He had insisted on running an errand for the dowager duchess, but promised to return soon enough. But now Henry was done with his business and Ferguson was yet to arrive. He shook his head lightly and stuck his hands into the pockets of his breeches. Staring down the street, he could see people walking past: lasses in plain gowns, gents in simple cotton breeches with their hats gripped above their heads, and old boots pounding down the street.
He smiled as memories of how he sat in a coach with his mother while they rode past here graced his mind. He'd come many a time to watch his father close deals when he was but a lad. Today, he came alone. Never had he remembered London like this. It had been a long couple of years, running off to handle the family business down in India. India had been satisfying, but London— there was no place like London. London was home. Forgetting Ferguson for a moment, he made his way down the street, his hat firmly situated on top of his head, his coat buttoned up to his chin, covering him as well as his hat did. The last thing he needed was to be recognized, walking the streets of London without his coach. Damn Ferguson. His mother would be furious if she heard that he’d walked the merchant's street so carelessly. And she would forget that it was she who had sent Ferguson on an errand in the first place. He walked down the street, bumping into people lightly, staring at the shops: jewelry stores, money-lenders, bakeries.
"Oh, 'tis alright m'child!" A lady yelled as she pushed open the doors of the bakery that stood opposite where Henry walked. She ran down the street with two loaves of bread cradled in her arms.
Henry smiled to himself as he watched her. She seemed old, middle aged maybe, but she ran with a certain type of grace. She made him think of Lady Katherine, his betrothed. Henry had known Katherine all his life. They'd known each other since they were babes. They'd played as children, and he'd watched her grow from a childhood friend to a lass who learned to walk and eat in a ladylike manner, and then, upon his return from India, he'd seen the lady she'd become. Beautiful, lovely, appropriate. He had tender feelings towards her, and he was sure that, eventually, he would come to love her. First, she had been his friend and how lucky he was for that. He wasn't betrothed to a total stranger.
He stood still while people walked past, his eyes scanning everywhere. He went to walk on when he caught a glimpse of something by the Jeweler's shop across the street. His eyes fell on a lady. She was dowdy, dressed in a cream colored gown. Her dark brown hair was left unpinned — it was unruly, scattered on either side of her face, and blown by the cool breeze.
He went to look away and continue his stroll, when suddenly, she turned, her eyes colliding with his. He froze, the intensity of her stare gripping him, making him stare even harder. Worse, it rendered him completely incapable of moving. For some reason, her face arrested his attention.
Her heart- shaped face was attractive, the strands of her dark hair framed her small face, keeping away from her eyes. Her lips, red and plump, were parted lightly, and above them, a firm, straight nose sat. Framed with thick lashes, her huge eyes were dark, so dark, they reminded him of the night at sea. Such... beauty. She was of average height, not tall, but not petite either. Her slender figure was hidden by the dowdy gown she wore, but he could see the outline of her hips, small, barely visible, her bosom full against the silk material of her dress. She was simple... So why was he drawn to her? She wasn't the usual English Rose, not like the ladies he saw at balls, with neatly pinned hairs, lovely dresses from the finest seamstresses in the whole of England, and eyes batting to attract. She did none of those, but somehow, she had him standing, staring.
Oh, bloody hell!
He must look like a bloody fool, staring at a lady so rudely. He hissed under his breath and decided to go talk to her. He cast his gaze down to look at his coat before making his way to her, when he heard a loud scream. He looked up instantly, and his eyes widened. He stared in horror as the dark- eyed lady panicked, her hands in air, screaming as she pointed down the street, where at a man in a long, ratty-looking old coat ran, pushing harshly past people. He watched in horror as the man shoved an old lady with her basket of fruits aside, making a mess as the fruit fell to the ground.
"My purse! Oh, somebody catch that thief!"
He didn't have time to drown into the pool of her voice before he ran after the thief.
"Samuel!" he heard her scream. "My purse! Oh dear!"
He pushed past people as he ran. The thief was at the edge of the street. Henry ran after him. The thief had barely turned the corner when Henry caught up with him, gripped him by his coat, and pulled him to a halt. The man struggled against Henry. Enraged, he pushed him aside, so that he tumbled and fell to the ground.
The man gasped, tossed the purse to Henry and cowered in fear. "Take the purse! Take it, don't tell on me! I beg you, sir!"
Henry caught the purse midair, but his rage remained.
Henry stood there for a moment, hovering over the middle- aged man. Taking in the wrinkles around his eyes, and the fear in them. He had the purse gripped in one hand, and the other, raised into a fist, hanging midair, ready to strike. He could feel people gathering, murmuring, whispering. Soon, he was sure that they would start screaming, encouraging him to hit the man, tie him up and take him away. He cursed to himself. He had just returned from India, and the last thing he needed was his name on everyone’s lips, irrespective of the situation. He didn't want any attention.
The man seemed old, tired, and threadbare. Perhaps he had only been trying to get some food for his children. Henry let his rage calm as he stared on at the man's pleading face. H
e stepped back a bit, his gaze still on the man. "Get up."
The man stood up uncertainly. Henry was about to ask if he needed some money when the man ran away, pushing past a young lady behind him, running down the street and disappearing around the first bend.
Henry shook his head. He had wanted to help. He took another step backwards, purse in hand. He tilted his hat forward, so that it covered his face well enough before walking down the street.
The beauty still stood there, fretting, pacing and talking to an elderly man beside her. He couldn't quite hear what she was saying. He heard parts, but he understood.
"...one will bring it, Lass," the man assured her.
"... Samuel," she sighed. "I saw a kind sir run after the thief."
"Be calm, then." The older man sighed, rubbing her shoulders in fatherly comfort. Henry almost guessed he was her father. But then he'd heard her call him by name — Samuel. Perhaps he was a butler at her home, a footman? He couldn't help but wonder about the lady. "Let's walk further— I see people gathering by the corner."
"Yes, yes," Anne replied frantically. All the money she had planned to give her mother was in that purse. She hissed within, wishing she had given it to Samuel to hold because it would have been safer. She wondered what would happen if she had lost the money she had just gotten. People were so cruel. The money she had just gotten minutes ago from the jeweler's shop in exchange for her jewelry was in the hands of some stranger, who knew nothing about how she’d gotten the money or how much she needed it!
Cheapside was filled with cruel people, especially on the streets! She tried to fight back tears that welled up. What if the kind sir could not get her purse back? The mere thought made her want to cry.
Henry approached them slowly, making sure to stop right in front of the beauty. "There shall be no need for such, as I've retrieved the purse."
She froze in place, her mouth parting in surprise as she saw her purse. She took it from him immediately.
"Oh, thank you, Kind Sir. Thank you!" She smiled gratefully as she looked through the purse to check if everything was intact. Her smile was warm, genuine, and it made her eyes glitter.
"'Tis is a kind thing you've done, Sir." The old man, whom she’d he'd heard her called Samuel, bowed, "But we must hurry. Thank you. Let's go, Child."
"Wai —" Henry was about to speak, but stopped himself when he saw his own coach arriving. His footman's face was scrunched in fear, for he knew he'd angered his Master. The beauty, though her eyes remained on the him, was pulled by Samuel, who kept snapping that they must hurry. Henry watched them with raised arms as they barreled around the corner and were simply, out of sight.
Dammit!
He should have made a move! But he was not to blame— the lady had left him tongue- tied, self- conscious, seeking for words that would blow her away like the winds of all the seas he'd voyaged on.
Ferguson stopped before him with his coach. "Forgive me, M' Lord. I dinna know when the time was past."
Henry waved him off and got into the coach. "Take me home."
* * *
Anne stared at all the coins from the jewelery which she had traded with the help of Samuel. She hugged them to her chest, sighing in relief. They may not be able to solve all her problems, but at least it was something.
"Thank you, Samuel," she whispered. Samuel had been her father’s righthand man, serving as a butler and valet for years. Despite her father's many mistakes, Samuel stood by him loyally, never saying a word against him, even behind his back. Samuel was doing the same for her. Ever since her father's death, he'd been checking up on her
He was the only servant who refused to leave the house after her father’s death. The dowager often took advantage of his loyalty. Most times, Samuel rode with Louise in a coach to wherever she wanted.
"Anne!" She heard her name, echoing through the entire household. Her eyes widened, for she knew who it was that called. She ran to the side of her bed, she pulled out a tin box, one she'd used for her old jewelry, and tossed the bag of coins inside. She stood up quickly and ran to the small stool that sat in front of her table. She took a seat, picked up a comb and began to tidy her hair.
"Anne! Oh, Mon Dieu, where —!" Louise snarled as she pushed the door open.
Anne turned instantly, as though she was taken by surprise.
"Did you not hear me call?!" Louise snapped, stepping into the room all of the way, her green eyes were darkened by her rage. Her beauty, as always, radiated. Her blonde hair was put together in a neat French braid, and held in place with shiny silver pins. She stood before Anne, dressed in only a white chemise. Anne looked away instantly.
"I did not hear you, my apologies —"
"Will do no good!" Louise finished for her. She breathed in and out before she finally spoke again. "Come, help with my petticoat."
It was the silly girl's fault that all the maids had gone. It was her father who had gambled away all the money. As she was his child, she must pay the consequences. Didn't they say that the child would suffer for the sins of their father? That foolish man had wasted away the inheritance that was meant for her son, Victor. Her dear Victor. And Anne herself was one of his many sins— she was a sin to their marriage, to her Victor, and to her dignity...
“Am to help you dress?" Anne whispered softly, quite unsure.
"Oui, you shall. Hurry!" Louise walked out the room, head held high.
Anne knew why her stepmother walked so freely in a chemise. There were no more maids running around the house, and old man Samuel, the only worker who had stayed back, was always downstairs, so her stepmother had forgotten her shame. Goodness. The woman would run her mad soon. She had Anne doing all the house chores, going on errands, and serving as her handmaid, all at once. Anne closed her eyes and willed herself to be strong. It was her father's carelessness that had led them to this— had led to Anne being a slave in her own home.
Not that it is was really her home. Anne was, after all, illegitimate. No one would respect her right as the child of her father. She had come to accept that fact. Louise hated her even more because her father had dared to bring her home. He had he dared treat her like his daughter, took her to balls, taught her to ride a horse, offered her the privileges of riding in a coach. For all his sins, he was a good man, she had to admit. She may have been born of sin, but he never made her feel that way.
Her mother had gone off to America, to chase her passion for the arts, so she could perform onstage in plays. She had become famous throughout all of America, and even in London. Her mother had become quite successful, but in the same way she'd risen easily to fame for her beauty, it had faded so quickly that she found herself in London with absolutely no money, no job, and an ailment. Despite what had transpired, Anne had taken it upon herself to care for her mother.
"Anne!" Louise yelled sharply.
"Yes, m'lady," Anne replied as she ran after Louise. If she dared to go against Louise's will, Louise would starve her for a day, or two, sometimes, or three. It was all dependent on her mood.
As she helped Louise into her petticoat, the lady snarled and cursed in French. Anne sighed under her breath. She did what she always did— she endured in silence.
* * *
Anne hummed as she swept the floor of her father's study, arranging his numerous books and putting them in place. Her father, Lord Willington, Marquess of Bowmount, had been a man in love with poems and stories. Despite his nasty habits, he found solace in the sea of books. Anne liked to clean the study last because after, she would take a book from the shelf and settle down in the comfy armchair to read it. It always calmed her, for she knew Louise would be gone by then, perhaps to visit some friends of hers, to partake in her favorite pastime: gossiping. .
A noise in the living room brought her to a halt. She stopped humming. The neigh of a horse followed. Was Louise back already? She took the broom with her and walked out of study. Running to the closet, she placed the broom inside before heading to the livin
g room to find out who had arrived.
Her eyes widened when she spotted the two richly dressed ladies who stood there, waiting. Lady Katherine had long, fine golden hair, tumbling to her shoulders and stopping just above her bosom. She moved with authority and grace. WhileLady Esther had light brown hair that stopped just before the curve of her waist. She seemed shy, more reserved. Both women broke into smiles as they saw Anne.
"Anne!" Lady Esther giggled.
"Have you been watching us for long?" Lady Katherine held up her gold colored fan, which matched the gold embroidery on her black gown.
Anne ran to them, her smile never fading. "Ooh, how could I resist? You both look dashing in your lovely dresses!"
