Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  He smiled wryly to himself as he thought how strange it was that this young child-woman should be the one to nestle comfortably in his arms as if she had known him her whole life. Then he realised it was true. She had known him since she was a child. Perhaps that was the reason that she could answer him so cavalierly while other, older and more experienced women drew back into formality. He had to admit that her artless innocence was infinitely more attractive than the seductive wiles of every courtesan he had known.

  As they drew nearer to the castle, the Duke frowned for he foresaw a difficulty he had not previously been aware of. If the servants saw him ride over the moat and into his home with a housemaid in his arms, it would set a dozen tongues wagging. While he himself cared little about gossip, he did not want to injure Abigail any farther. So he pulled his mantle closer around her to hide her face.

  The gates were opened, and he rode inside with his precious burden. The groomsman came forward to take the horse. The Duke dismounted, taking care not to reveal Abigail’s face. He carried her inside and laid her down on a settee in the drawing room.

  “My guest and I shall dine alone,” he said gravely, frowning at the butler. Alfred was unimpressed, knowing the Duke had often brought such guests home before.

  Meanwhile, outside the castle, a dark figure crouched low amongst the bramble bushes and trees. Unbeknownst to the Duke and Abigail, it had followed them from the moment they met on the road till they reached home.

  “Well, well!” it muttered to itself.

  “It seems that my spying has paid off, and I finally have something of worth to report to the Earl!”

  Samuel Cooper stood up and turned away to go back home, rubbing his hands with glee.

  Chapter 6

  Horace Blakemore, the Earl of Aldrich, shuddered with disgust at the words of Samuel Cooper.

  “No, it cannot be!” he exclaimed.

  “The Duke of Northumberland is dallying with a common housemaid and a miner’s daughter! It is not surprising that he should be tempted with the buxom attractions of a commoner, but my word! How charming, considering the moral high ground he has always taken!”

  The Earl chuckled to himself. “However delightful as this news may be, how is it supposed to help me ruin the Duke?”

  “You underestimate me, My Lord. I know something far more important,” said Cooper.

  “I have been following the wench ever since she left for the miner’s funeral. I was there outside the old woman’s hut, and I know that Abigail Blunt, the miner’s daughter, is actually the abandoned daughter of the Marquis Archibald Claremont!”

  “You numskull, durst you say that she is the daughter of my aunt the Marchioness?” exclaimed the Earl.

  “Even if I were to accept your assertion that she is my relative and provide notice to this new cousin of mine that she should stay as far away as possible from the Claremont and Blakemore families, how am I to use her to get back at the Duke of Northumberland?”

  “My Lord, she grew up a miner’s daughter. All the miners and their families know her well. When it becomes known that she is the daughter of a Marquis and that she has been wronged by the Duke, she will leave the Duke’s household for yours. The miners will discover that their precious Abigail has been deceived by the Duke. They will leave his service in droves and come to join you!”

  “So I shall have the pick of the best labour in all of Northumberland, and the Duke’s colliery will be left abandoned!”

  “That is true, My Lord,” said Samuel.

  The Earl glared sharply at him.

  “I do not know if I should congratulate you on a well-laid plan or have you thrown out for making up such a fantastical story!”

  “My Lord, have faith in me! I have nothing to gain by lying to you. Give me a little time, and I shall bring you such proof that you will no longer doubt me,” whined the foreman.

  The Earl sat silent for a while and then said, “Off with you then! Bring me that proof within the next two days or else I shall make life hell for you,” he threatened.

  Samuel Cooper bowed and left to carry out his plan.

  Chapter 7

  The light from the fire flickered on the Duke’s face as he lounged on the settee in the parlour. Abigail sat and watched surreptitiously. She had woken up to find herself nestled comfortably amongst the cushions while the Duke kindly invited her to dine with him.

  “How did I arrive here?” she asked suspiciously.

  “I carried thee in as I have done many times before for various guests of mine,” said the Duke, the corner of his lip twitching.

  “Your Grace, do you mean to say that Alfred the butler and my aunt the housekeeper know I am here with you?” she asked horrified.

  “No, of course not. I took care that no one saw you. We shall remain here tonight, and tomorrow morning before everyone appears, you shall sneak out to your chamber and tell your aunt you have just arrived,” said the Duke.

  “What about your ‘guest’?” she asked.

  “Oh, she went back home very early because we quarrelled with each other,” said the Duke gravely.

  Abigail narrowed her eyes at him. “I am rejoiced to see that you are enjoying yourself so thoroughly!”

  “It has been a long time since I have done so, little one,” he answered seriously. “I am sorry if I have inconvenienced you. My only desire was to see you home safe. I could not leave you to walk home in your condition,” he explained.

  “Your Grace, I am aware of your kindness,” she replied.

  The Duke watched as she turned her head away and her lips trembled. “Only my father could have shown more concern,” she whispered.

  “Yes, well, he was a wise man.”

  “But what if he wasn’t my father?” she burst out suddenly.

  The Duke stared at her uncomprehending as the tears flowed down her face.

  “Mother Grey told me he wasn’t my father,” Abigail cried.

  She lifted her hands to her neck and removed the silver locket that she wore, holding it out for the Duke to see. He took it from her hand and listened as she poured out the story Mother Grey had told her.

  “What am I going to do?” she said weeping.

  “Hush, my dear; your father will always be your father. No one can deny you that,” he said taking her hand.

  “Accepting your true identity does not mean losing your past. You are Abigail, the miner’s daughter, and Abigail, the estranged daughter of the Marquise Archibald Claremont.”

  She looked at him, and her eyes were deep green pools of despair. “What about Abigail the fairy who went to live with the Duke?” she whispered.

  He felt as if his heart would burst as he reached out and cupped her cheek tenderly. “No fairy would want to live with a mortal such as I,” he said gently. “You do not know me, or you would not say such things.”

  “I know only that you are the reason I am not creeping deep in the darkest pits with a basket of coal on my arm. If it were not for you and the dream you awoke in my heart, I could have been scrubbing dishes in the kitchen this very instant. Whatever I am today is because of you.”

  Abigail was suddenly overcome with shyness, and she looked away and tried to cool her flushed face with the back of her hand.

  “Look at me,” said the Duke, and she turned to face him, keeping her eyes on the top button of his waistcoat. He sighed and said again almost pleading, “Look at me.”

  She slowly raised her eyes to his and felt as if she would never look away again. A long age passed, and neither knew who made the first move.

  She knew only that his lips were warm and passionate on hers and that he held her clasped to his chest as if he could not bear to let her go.

  He knew only that for the first time in his life, he felt his heart tremble with desire and not lust.

  Her fingers crept up to his cravat as she struggled to pull it free and touch the warm skin of his neck, but the spell was broken, and he drew back gently, taking her hands
in his.

  “No, my darling. Not now, not like this ...” and she felt bereft as if she had lost something.

  He groaned at the desolation he saw in her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that; would you rob me of my soul?”

  She was startled at his words and looked away, blinking back the tears. He reached out as if he would pull her into his arms again, but at that moment, they heard a great hue and cry outside.

  “Stay there and bolt the door; do not open it until I return,” said the Duke and rising to his feet rushed out. Abigail bolted the door and anxiously paced up and down waiting for news about the source of the noise outside. A short while later, she realised that all had grown quiet again. There was a light knock at the door.

  “Who is it?” she enquired tremulously and hearing nothing but the knock repeated her words more impetuously than before. She opened the door a crack, ready to close it again immediately if need be. However, she had barely unbolted the door when it was flung wide open, and she was thrown backwards.

  A hooded man rushed inside, gripped her arm and thrust a damp cloth over her nose and mouth. She dropped to the ground and knew no more. The man lifted her up and threw her over his shoulder. A few moments later, he had disappeared into the darkness outside with his hostage.

  The door stood open, and a cold gust of wind blew in making the room chilly in spite of the fire. When the Duke came back some minutes later holding a cloth to his bloodied head, he looked dazed around the room and then back at Tobias who accompanied him.

  “They took her, Tobias; come with me. I shall not leave a single one of them alive!” he snarled and then fell unconscious into Tobias’ arms.

  Chapter 8

  Samuel Cooper crouched in front of the fire in the hall of the Earl Horace Blakemore’s mansion. He leapt up and turned to face the Earl as he came into the room.

  “You absolute dalcop! What have you done?” he exclaimed.

  Samuel shuffled his feet uncomfortably and looked at the Earl. “I only carried out your orders, My Lord; you told me to bring proof about the identity of Abigail, the so-called daughter of the miner Jeremiah Blunt, and so I have.”

  “You carried her out of the home of the Duke of Northumberland! Do you have any idea what will become of us if he should learn of this?”

  “He will know nothing, My Lord, for a while yet, for I hit him on the head with a stout staff so that he was concussed. As for the consequences when he regains awareness … by that time, the wench will have turned completely against him and will declare she is with you by choice.”

  “How do you propose to arrange that?” asked the Earl.

  “My lord, come and see her; all your questions will be answered.” Samuel gestured towards the figure which lay on a couch in a corner of the room, covered with blankets. Horace Blakemore walked towards the figure and stared at its face.

  “Good Lord! She is the living image of my aunt, Penelope Claremont the Marchioness!” he exclaimed. “What have you done with her?”

  “Nothing to fear, My Lord, ’tis just a little laudanum, the effects of which will soon wear out.”

  “What am I to do with her now?” asked the Earl irritated.

  “Take her back to the miners’ village and leave her there. Am I supposed to hunt out the Claremonts’ fake heir and challenge him?”

  “No, My Lord; she is the key to the revenge you wish to deal the Duke of Northumberland! He has a soft spot in his heart for her, and when she realises that he was responsible for the death of her father Jeremiah, she will hate him forever!”

  “You coxcomb! What do I care whether she adores or hates him!” exclaimed the Earl. “My only desire is to ruin him.”

  At that moment, Abigail began to stir underneath the blankets that had been piled on top of her. She opened her eyes and looked around uncomprehending. Then her eyes focused on Samuel’s face, and she stared at him with a look of terror.

  “What are you doing here? Where am I?” she exclaimed.

  “You are amongst friends, My Lady,” replied Samuel.

  Abigail sat up and pushed away the blankets fearfully. “No! Let me go. What have I ever done to you Mr Cooper that you should so use me?”

  “Art not thou grateful thou hussy! I have saved thee from the Duke who would have ruined thee as he ruined old Jeremiah Blunt.”

  Samuel squared his shoulders and looked at her. “Now hold your tongue and listen,” he said.

  “Dost thou not know the Duke is a great rogue? He had taken many a young maid to his bed and then left her out in the cold when she failed to please him. Wouldst thou ruin yourself for his sake?”

  “I have no intention of being ruined as you say! Nor do I care what the Duke has done in his private life. That is his affair and no business of mine.”

  “Yet thou would go back to him knowing he wast responsible for thy father Jeremiah’s death?”

  “How can you say such a falsehood? You know he was killed while working in the mines!”

  “Yes, but dost thou not know that the Duke was there that day? His assistant Tobias hath told me to send the strongest and most dexterous men to clear out a new tunnel that hath been blasted in the mine. All the old men, women, and children were to be kept away till it hath been declared safe. Jeremiah came forward and volunteered to enter with the others claiming his great experience. I wouldst have sent him back, but the Duke stopped me. He said I should respect the wishes of a skilled and experienced miner. That is why thy father went into the tunnel that day and wast crushed by a falling boulder!”

  Abigail was silent as she listened, and at last she spoke tearfully, “If that is all, may I leave now?”

  The Earl stepped forward. “My lady, allow me to introduce myself. I am the Earl of Aldrich and the nephew of the Marchioness Penelope Claremont. Perhaps you are not aware that you were adopted by the miner Jeremiah and are not his daughter by birth?”

  “I am aware of that, My Lord,” she replied. “Yet that does not make me any less the daughter of my father who brought me up as his own,” she replied resentfully.

  “I have no wish to offend you, and I understand your sentiments, and yet you must comprehend the fact that you are by birth the daughter of a Marquis. You are my cousin, and as your only surviving relative, I am your guardian.”

  “Forgive me, but for eighteen years I was Abigail, the daughter of Jeremiah Blunt, and no one came to claim me as their daughter, cousin, or dependant,” she answered, her eyes flashing angrily. The Earl was disconcerted, not having expected to be challenged in this manner. He tried again in a more conciliatory tone.

  “Where will you go now? Do you not know that the miners would never let you live peacefully knowing your true identity? Would you go back to live as a housemaid in the home of the man who killed Jeremiah Blunt?”

  Abigail held her head in her hands. “I do not know what I will do,” she said.

  “Then look at this,” he said and gestured towards a portrait on the wall.

  “That is your mother who gave birth to you. Would you dishonour her memory by going to live in the home of the man who belongs to the family that opposed her? She was the one who insisted that certain rules be followed that would keep miners safe.”

  “Let me go,” pleaded Abigail. “Whatever the Duke may be, you are no better if you hold me hostage.”

  “Madam, you are free to go. My duty was to inform you of your true identity and offer you a safe place to stay. In this house, you would be a lady, not a servant.”

  Seeing her silent, the Earl rang the bell for his housekeeper.

  “You should rest now. You can make a decision tomorrow.”

  So it was that Abigail found herself being led to her chamber in the home of the Earl, waited upon by his servants. Her head ached, and she quickly fell asleep.

  “Listen, Cooper; this is what we shall do now.” The Earl rubbed his hands with glee.

  “We shall go before the council members tomorrow. We shall lay a complaint against
the Duke for violating the rules of safety for miners. You must then go back to the miners and tell them the Duke was going to take advantage of Abigail and that he has always neglected them. Tell them I shall increase their salary if they will join my business.”