Romancing a Wallflower

by Anna St. Claire

  She could have died. A shudder of fear shook Harlow as he realized how close she had come to death, and how close he had come to losing the person he needed to share his life. A groom had reported seeing a lantern thrown into one of the back stalls, confirming their suspicions that the fire had been no accident.

  Harlow hated to leave Lilian, but duty demanded it. The ride to the cave was quiet for much of the way. By the time Harlow and Max arrived, the Dragoon Captain Newman had already had him take up a position out of the sight of any townsfolk or passers-by.

  “It is good to see you, m’lord. Thank you for your notice. I have my men in place,” Captain Newman stated. “They have their sights on the opening where we expect the skirmish and are ready to arrest the conspirators.”

  “Be alert for two people,” Max cut in. “A man with a dark moustache who will, most likely, be garbed in black. The other one is Lady Catherine Poinz. We believe them to be the accomplice and the ringleader—or else closely in league with them.”

  “The widow Poinz?” Newman paled.

  “Yes. Is there something we should know, Captain?” Harlow asked in a menacing tone. DeLacey heard the exchange and moved closer. “If you have something to say, say it. Lives are at stake, not just a boat and its booty.”

  “I may have seen her early this morning, riding a horse. We had hidden, so she did not see us, but had we known she was a focal point of this operation, we would have held her for questioning.”

  Harlow breathed a sigh of relief. He had been afraid Newman would say he had spoken to her or that she had seen him. If she knew they were watching, she would cancel everything. Relief was clear on Max’s and DeLacey’s faces, too.

  “Where did you say you saw her?” he persisted.

  “She was riding like the wind towards the coast. I cannot be sure where she had been, but it was clear she was determined to get somewhere fast.”

  Not sure what to make of that, Harlow and Max looked at each other.

  “What was she wearing?” Max asked.

  “A yellow gown and a black hat with a feather, although the hat was barely hanging on her head. She appeared to have it secured with a ribbon about her neck.

  “Send word to your men, if you will. Tell them we need the pair for questioning, nothing more. Thank you for your information,” Max finished, dismissing the Captain.

  “Cressey, we need to talk to you,” Harlow said, his face set, “in private.”

  DeLacey’s cave was most elaborate. Small holes, covered loosely by brushwood, allowed light to filter from the top, although he was not sure those were not the result of the weather and the sea unleashing its vengeance on the cliff’s sides. If a person stepped on a hole from above, they could wedge their foot and break an ankle. However, the chances of that happening seemed remote. He was correct in his assertion that no one had used the cave in years. A colony of bats flew past them as they walked deeper, looking for a place of privacy. Sparse light, offered by the small holes in the top, allowed them to adjust their vision more readily.

  “This looks like a good spot,” Max remarked.

  “What is it you have to say? Does it have anything to do with the two of you being late?” DeLacey snapped, his tone critical. “This should all start to unfold in a few hours,”

  Harlow stepped up and looked him squarely in the eye. “Your sister almost died in a stable fire, along with your head groom and the horses.”

  The air whooshed out of DeLacey, and he staggered. “Is she well?” His voice trembled.

  At least the man cares for his family, Harlow reflected. “Yes, she is. You have not met him, but a small puppy she rescued, a little more than a week past, saved her life. It may sound fantastical, yet the truth is, he and her horse both did,” Harlow explained.

  “They all saved each other,” Max put in. “We were convinced the widow’s man was responsible…or we were until Captain Newman shared his information. The widow would have had access to the estate at the time of the fire, and she was coming from that direction. Motive is the only loose string.”

  “Motive? The woman hates my family. I should rather say she hates my mother.” DeLacey drew in air between his teeth, almost hissing. “I should have been there.”

  “We were there, and that did not stop this from happening.” Max paused. “May we ask why there is acrimony between them? It is important. Your mother and the widow had what I would describe as an impassioned exchange yesterday morning, in town. She was directing her remarks to Lady Lilian and your mother interceded.”

  DeLacey inclined his head. “Once upon a time, she threw her cap at my father. Their parents were acquaintances and had always spoken of the two becoming betrothed, but my father met my mother and any betrothal to the widow ran aground,” DeLaney explained. “In the end, she married a man as old as her own father, who, while rich, was not what she had wished for. She coveted being a Countess as much as being wealthy. Keep in mind this is my father’s account. There could be more.”

  “That matches with my theory. I believe the widow singled out your sister when she saw Lady Lilian had caught the fancy of Lord Harlow, here. He may not want to acknowledge it, but many women dangle after him.” Max’s lips turned up in a slight smile.

  “God’s teeth, Max!” Harlow said, glowering at his friend. “Are you responsible for the bet at White’s?”

  “No, be easy. You know it was not me. Nonetheless, I believe we will determine who did that shortly.”

  “What do you mean?” DeLacey demanded. “What bet? Did it involve my sister?” The man’s face darkened with anger. “How dare anyone place my sister’s name in the betting books!”

  “I believe I know who it was, but let us see,” Max said coolly.

  Harlow appreciated Max’s coolness under fire. They were like that with each other. When he got upset, Max calmed him. When Max flew up into the boughs, he calmed his friend.

  “Your father sent us food. Shall we eat now before this begins? I think this would be a good spot,” Harlow suggested mildly.

  A few hours later, the men were in place with their pistols primed and their knives ready. The Dragoons would be their first line of defence, but they planned to have the widow and her associate in custody, regardless of who apprehended her. Harlow now knew that DeLacey shared a second motivation to make sure she paid. His sister.

  Darkness surrounded them, and for more than an hour, no one moved. Harlow checked his brass pocket-watch, closing it and making the loudest sound they had heard in hours. Barely beyond King’s Cave, a lantern edged out on the water, a clear decoy set in place to lead Lieutenant Pelham’s cutter onto the jagged coastal rocks. The lantern was most likely on a small boat being floated or manoeuvred by long ropes. They had seen the small black dinghy hidden under brushwood on the coast. It was the chief means used by free traders to access the cargo once they wrecked a boat. The black colour helped conceal them.

  Pelham’s cutter edged into the opening, straying closer to the rocks. Be careful. Harlow was worried; anything could go wrong. He pulled out his spyglass and watched, barely making out a cutter purposely camouflaged in black, flanking Pelham’s larboard side.

  A noise on the beach drew his attention. A man dressed in black stood off to the side, barely visible beside the dark boulder he leaned on. Harlow looked carefully and saw him withdraw a silver pistol. Using an agreed-upon signal, he lit a match and made a quick flash, barely seen by an unsuspecting eye. The man appeared preoccupied with Pelham’s ship and as far as Harlow could tell, did not notice. He could see villagers and smugglers edging toward the shore, staying close to the cliff’s edge until the British ship lay crippled on the rocks.

  As the black cutter drew closer, attempting to box Pelham’s ship, forcing it to wreck, five guns fired from the British cutter, making direct hits on the smuggler’s boat and crippling her masts. Flames erupted from several areas on the boat, and judging from the chaos that ensued, the smugglers’ ship was crippled and on fire.


  Dragoons swarmed the beach, fighting those that resisted arrest. They had not planned to arrest the townspeople, but they wanted the leaders.

  Harlow looked down and realized the man in black was slowly edging away. He is trying to escape. Standing up, Harlow looked down to the side, spotting the man just below his own hiding place. The man was climbing the rock in an attempt to flee for safety. Harlow tucked his pistol into his belt and leaped from the rocks screening their vantage point, landing on top of the man. Before Harlow could secure bindings, the man slipped an arm free and pulled out a short knife and cut through Harlow’s shirt, lacerating his shoulder. The assailant then had time to climb a rocky outcrop and somersault in front Harlow, with a small flintlock pistol drawn.

  “You had better make that shot count, because you will not get a second chance…”

  The man glanced behind Harlow. In that instant, Harlow seized his chance and wrestled the man to the ground. The pistol discharged into the air. Max appeared next to him and kicked the gun away.

  “We did not see the widow, but he will talk,” Max remarked.

  “He will do more than that,” Harlow growled. DeLacey came into view just as Harlow ripped the coarse black moustache from the man’s face.

  “What are you doing? The Prince Regent…” DeLacey stopped mid-sentence.

  “The Prince will recognize the widow.” Harlow finished the sentence for him.

  As one, Max and DeLacey exhaled loudly in disbelief.

  “She was both of them,” DeLacey murmured. “How did you know?”

  “I recognized the feel of a woman’s chest. Never have I known a man to have breasts.” He half-laughed at his own remark, but he was serious. His anger with this woman for what she had tried to do to Lilian was ungovernable.

  “Excellent work, gentlemen,” Captain Newman boomed as he approached the little group.

  None too gently, Harlow bound the widow’s wrists and handed her into the Captain’s care.

  “This was one of the smoothest operations I have ever been a part of, gentlemen. We have several individuals we feel had a hand in leading this smuggling ring, and we plan to take them in for questioning. We did not see the widow…” he said, stopping mid-sentence. “He is her.” Newman looked confused as he stared at the bedraggled prisoner, now tied up in front of them.

  “Does anyone have a handkerchief?” Harlow asked.

  “I do.” DeLacey handed him a fine silk handkerchief. Harlow forced the widow's mouth open and stuffed the cloth into it.

  “No one wants to hear any of her nastiness.”

  “I have this in hand now, Harlow. Thank you both. You can make your reports. Mayhap you would be more comfortable back at the inn.” DeLacey winked and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Let my father know I will see him tomorrow.”

  “Very good, Cressey.” Harlow brushed the sand off his clothing and gathering their belongings, the two men rode back to Elysium Manor.

  “Now that Cressey…DeLacey…is not here, tell me who you think placed that bet in the Betting Book at White’s,” Harlow said to his friend. He was not as angry as he had initially been, but it rankled that someone would place Lilian’s name in such a book.

  “I will answer your question with a question.” Max said smugly. “’Tis easy enough if you think who may have felt threatened the most by your association with the DeLacey twins.”

  Could Max be right? “You do not think he is associated with…?”

  “No, no. I think it was a simple case of jealousy,” Max interrupted. “Keep in mind, I was not there, but you have related enough of the exchanges around Lady Lilian DeLacey, that I think it is where the guilt lies. We will not know for sure until we ask.”

  The two men fed and watered their horses and walked up to the house. Harlow’s priorities were news of Lilian, sleep and food, in that order. Hearing that she was resting comfortably, he relaxed. He needed to think more, but the minute his head hit the pillow he went to sleep, comfortable knowing that the next day held an excitement all its own.

  Epilogue

  The next day

  Lilian lay in bed with her eyes closed, feeling the sun warm her face. She was trying to have a better dream to wake up with so she might rid her mind of a most unsettling nightmare. In her nightmare, the stable had caught fire, trapping over a dozen horses, including her horse and her sister’s horse, nearly burning them alive. She adored Danby, and the idea she could lose him to something so devastating shook her to the core. Try as she might, she could not reach him. When she did at last free him, he refused to leave her side. With her remaining strength depleted, she collapsed, able neither to save herself nor her animals. Somewhere in her dream she could smell him, the Prince Charming her sister had continually promised would come for her. The scent of bergamot and bay leaf filled her mind, and she felt her face relax, content that he had swooped in and saved them all. Part of her believed it had been a dream, and all of her wished the last part had been true. Experience had taught her that if she stayed asleep, she could find herself in a better reverie, freeing her consciousness of this horrible dream.

  A knock sounded on her bedchamber door, shattering any chance for a daydream. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see her sister kiss her on the forehead and plop into a chair next to her.

  “I love you so much, dear sister. If not for you, I would not have my precious Ginger.”

  “Then it was true,” she said through a lump in her throat. The horrific part of her dream was not a dream, after all. It was a bad memory coming back larger than ever.

  “The fire? Yes, but so much has happened. Do you remember using the cane?” Her sister’s voice nearly burst with excitement.

  I used a cane, she remembered. “Yes.” Her voice hitched. “I could not get close enough to the horses. Then I saw the cane you left there for me, so I walked to it.” Of their own volition, her lips formed an ‘O’. Sitting up, she threw her covers back. “I walked? I walked!” She reached for her legs and could feel her hands touching her skin. She had not felt her legs in a year.

  “Yes. All of that!” Tears ran unchecked down Lydia’s face and she buried her face in her sister’s shoulder. “I love you,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by Lilian’s hair. “You are my hero, sister.”

  “Yes, she is,” Mama said, walking into the room at that moment. “I should be angry with you for what you did, risking your life, but I cannot be. The doctor said you will recover—more than recover, in actual fact. He believes you are ready to enjoy a normal life again.”

  Mama sounded anything but angry. Maybe the right word was giddy? While she respected her family, Lilian knew, without a doubt, she would do everything to save her animal—even risking her life again, given the circumstances.

  “You will want to get dressed soon and break your fast,” her mother suggested pointedly. A knowing smile teased her lips.

  Cooper bounded into the room and leaped onto her bed, licking the faces of both girls and sending them into giggles.

  “I love you, little man. If my nightmare was true, it is you who saved me—you and Danby.”

  “He is a little rascal, that one.” As she mentioned her former dog’s name, her mother smiled again. This time it was wistful. “I cut myself off from other dogs, thinking they could not bring back the happiness I had known with my dear little Rascal. Had I refused a home to this puppy, I might have lost my daughter.” She leaned down and hugged Cooper, who licked her squarely on the nose. She wiped her nose, then laughed. “I could get used to that again! I have a treat for you,” she said, petting Cooper’s head and watching him gobble up the biscuit. “I reminded Cook of the salmon-flavoured biscuits she used to make for Rascal, and she made some for Cooper.”

  “Thank you, Mama,” Lilian breathed.

  “Tell her what the doctor said,” urged Lydia.

  Mama cupped Lilian’s face affectionately. “The doctor said you should walk again. The accident last year may have created some kind of injurious
condition, producing a fear you could not recover from. He is uncertain, as they are just seeing this type of occurrence with all the war injuries. The doctor thinks the fear of losing your beloved horse forced you to move past the affright which was causing your paralysis. He spoke in terms I did not understand completely. However, I grasped that you will walk again.” She stood up, wiping away fresh tears. “Get dressed.” She walked over to the bell and pulled it. “I shall see you downstairs.”

  Thirty minutes later, Lilian met Lord Harlow and Lord Worsley as they were leaving her father’s study. Both gentlemen gave a quick bow. She noticed Lord Worsley’s sly grin as he excused himself and slipped away in the direction of the dining room.

  “Good morning, Lilian.” Harlow leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Will you join me in the parlour for a few minutes?”

  She looked and judged the parlour to be only ten feet in front of her. Reaching behind her chair, she grabbed the cane her sister had given her and tested it on the floor in front of her before easing herself up. Awkwardly, she pushed one foot forward and, once stable, dragged forward the other one. The steps got easier as she moved to the doorway of the room.

  Harlow stood just beyond the entry to the room, gaping and wiping rogue tears from his eyes. “I never thought I would see…how is this possible?” he asked, shock registering on his face. “Lilian…you are walking.” His voice shook with emotion. “Are you tired? Do you wish to continue?” Harlow swiped at his cheeks but was unable to stem the tears rolling unchecked down his face.

  Unsure of her stamina, but determined to try, she replied, “I do.” Her movement was jerky, but with every step she accomplished, the smile on her face widened. When she reached the settee, she turned and sat down—or, more accurately, plopped down.