True Nobility

by Lori Bates Wright

  TRUE NOBILITY

  Copyright 2018 © by Lori Bates Wright

  www.loribateswright.com

  ISBN 978-1-7326738-0-9 (print)

  ISBN 978-1-7326738-1-6 (ebook)

  EPUB Edition

  Scripture quotations and references are taken from the King James Version of the Bible (The King James Bible), the rights in which are vested in the Crown, reproduced with permission of the Crown’s Patentee, Cambridge University Press.

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, posted on any website, or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author, except for brief quotations in printed reviews and articles.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, circumstances, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Roseanna White Designs

  Author is represented by The Steve Laube Agency

  SierraVista Books

  104 Ovilla Rd.

  Red Oak, TX 75154

  To my husband, Daryl.

  For your unwavering support,

  constant encouragement,

  and bold faith.

  Your love is a gift.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  My Heartfelt Appreciation

  Prologue

  England, Midnight, 2 February, 1860

  Moonlight fell through an open casement as a rising shadow crept closer to the bed. Stillness clung to the damp night air. In the distance, a night owl’s warning went unheeded as the silver glint of a blade sparked a terrifying illumination before plunging deep into the satin quilt.

  Across the room, a door flung open where a night-capped silhouette wavered. The shadow of a pistol, held between shaking hands, centered unsteadily at the black-cloaked assassin.

  Victory, however, proved short-lived.

  An empty chamber pot hurled across the dim room knocking the weapon to the floor. With a daring leap, the murderer made an escape through the open window, instantly swallowed up by darkness.

  In burgundy robe and slippers, an elderly gentleman shuffled further into the room. With anxious fingers, he struck a matchstick to light the lamp on the night table. For a brief moment, his shaking hands lingered over the smooth coverlet before pulling it back. The down-filled bolster he’d carefully arranged there earlier now sported an eight-inch knife jutting from its middle.

  Pulling a monogrammed handkerchief from the pocket of his robe, he dropped to sit on the bed, then dabbed at the sheen on his brow. Unfolding a note, he reread the message he’d received not three days past.

  Take every precaution!

  Your daughter, Victoria,

  is to be killed before

  her twentieth birthday.

  Cold dread pounded through his veins as he stared blankly into the flickering flame fighting for life against his heavy breath.

  It was then Edward Haverwood, third Earl of Wrenbrooke, resolved to do everything within his power to save his beloved daughter from the clutches of a maniacal killer.

  “Will you walk into my parlour,” said the spider to the fly.

  “’Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy.”

  ~ Mary Howitt

  One

  England, 16 May, 1860

  Squinting against the morning sun, Nicholas Saberton looked out over the lush green countryside of England’s Lake District as it passed along the way. Unable to enjoy the view, his thoughts were distracted by Haverwood’s urgent summons.

  The letter insisted Nicholas personally make the trip from his home in Georgia to escort the earl and his daughter to America without delay. A tidy sum of money had accompanied the odd request for good measure.

  Ordinarily, he would disregard a haughty demand such as this, sending one of his best men to escort them instead. But having recently acquired the majority holdings of Haverwood Shipping and Trade, Nicholas wasn’t keen on upsetting the English Haverwoods.

  Percy Haverwood had been a good friend over the years and he’d trusted Nicholas without reserve. The least he could do was play escort to Percy’s brother and niece.

  Truth be told, it had been invigorating to be aboard The Tempest again. With his younger brother Zachery at the helm, Nicholas had enjoyed a much-needed respite from the hectic pace he’d set for himself this past year.

  Wrenbrooke Hall was in full view twenty minutes before the passenger wagon rumbled to a halt in front of the stately manor. Nicholas took in the elaborate entrance, looking up at the clinging rose vines covering the trellises on either side of the portal. Swinging down from the wagon ledge, he threw his cape casually over one shoulder. Ignoring the weighty brass knocker, he rapped steadily upon the grand wooden door.

  Slowly the door opened and a somber man in butler’s uniform appeared.

  “Nicholas Saberton, to see the earl.”

  The servant stepped aside to reveal a long narrow hall. “His Lordship will see you in the library.”

  Nicholas entered, handing off his cape into the outstretched hand.

  “Saberton! Don’t dawdle, man. We’ve much to attend to.” Lord Haverwood leaned on his cane in a doorway to the right before disappearing inside.

  As he followed the earl, Nicholas noted the similar design to his own library back home in Georgia. His father had built the Saberton house and had incorporated many of the same baroque elements. Nicholas was barely through the door, however, when the earl impatiently waved him in.

  “Rather a large fellow, aren’t you.” It was a statement rather than a question. Lord Haverwood looked him over from head to foot before crossing in front to get a better look. “Passable as far as looks go, I suppose. How are your teeth?”

  Teeth? Nicholas met the earl’s question with a steady stare.

  “Not much for conversation, eh?” The earl motioned for Nicholas to take a seat. “Well, no matter. I trust everything has been prepared for our departure?”

  “The ship is ready to sail as soon as we arrive back at port,” Nicholas leaned forward in his chair to rest an arm over his knee. “We can catch the morning tide, if you can be ready to leave this afternoon.”

  “Splendid! The sooner, the better. Tea?”

 
; The butler lifted a china pot and poured two teacups a quarter of the way full.

  Nicholas held up a hand. “None for me, thank you.”

  “What’s this? No tea? Not given to stronger drink, I hope.”

  “No. I prefer coffee, myself.”

  “Hmmph.” The earl’s mustache gave a quick twitch. “Of course. You revolutionary devils forget your origins.”

  With a direct look, Nicholas took the affront. It was time to get to the bottom of this summons. “What exactly can I do for you, Lord Haverwood?”

  “I believe my correspondence was rather straightforward. I’ve need of your services to see my daughter and me safely out of the country.”

  “Yes, that I understand.” Nicholas declined the butler’s offer of an assortment of sweets. “My question is, why the hurry? And why me specifically?”

  “I rather expect that you are the precise man for the task. Besides my late brother’s glowing opinion of you, I also knew your father’s uncle quite well, you see.” Lord Haverwood paused and Nicholas kept his expression closed.

  “Lord Thomas Saberton was a fine gentleman. Duke of Brechenridge. We were seated together at Lords for a number of years until his unfortunate ailment took its toll.”

  All his life he’d heard of his father’s uncle Thomas. Nicholas relaxed back into his seat and lifted his foot to rest upon his knee. “I’m sorry I never had the chance to meet him.”

  “Saberton’s brother, your grandfather as it were, caused quite the scandal running off to the colonies as he did. Severed all ties with family and country when he chose to defend the treasonous rebels against us,”

  Again, Nicholas met the earl’s regard with a wary glance.

  “There are no British heirs to the Saberton domain, you see. Everything has reverted to the Crown. Unless, of course …” He lifted his cup and took a sip. “… a rightful heir was to step forward to reclaim it.”

  Nicholas was unimpressed. His grandfather had lost his life fighting for the liberation of their adopted country, a cause the American Sabertons had since embraced with fervor. Titles and English lands held no appeal to him whatsoever.

  “Tell me, Saberton, you are a God-fearing sort, are you not? You haven’t converted to some savage belief over there, have you?”

  Why the senseless questions? None of this was anything Nicholas cared to discuss. Thankfully, he was rescued by the sound of a female voice drifting down the hall.

  Lord Haverwood looked up. Taking his cane, he made his way over to wait by the door, ending the odd conversation.

  When she entered the room, Nicholas was struck by her elegance. The stately way she moved gave her the presence of a princess. Coming to his feet, he noted she had delicate features and a magnificent mane of auburn curls. Long dark lashes framed brilliant blue eyes radiating an innocence that made him smile.

  “Good morning, Father.”

  “I’m pleased you chose the lilac gown, my dear. Most flattering.” The earl took her arm and led her over to where Nicholas stood. “Captain Saberton, I present my daughter, Lady Victoria Haverwood.”

  Her first thought was that the man standing before her was huge—thickly muscled and a good head taller than average. His glossy black hair fell well over his collar although he was dressed in an impeccable taupe overcoat with matching trousers and vest.

  “Nicholas Saberton.” He reached out and respectfully took her hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  At second glance, she decided he was a most handsome man as well. Admittedly, more masculine than the cadets from Sandhurst who visited once a year during the social season.

  Lord Haverwood stepped between the two. “The good captain and I were finalizing our arrangements, my dear. All is in order for our voyage.”

  Reluctantly, she turned her attention back to her father, who led her to a chair opposite the one Captain Saberton stood ready to reclaim. “I’d hoped we could continue our conversation about that in private, Father.”

  “Nothing to discuss, Victoria. I’ve told you we shall travel to the colonies and that’s the last of it.” Her father, the illustrious Earl of Wrenbrooke, was fast becoming red in the face. “Captain Saberton is a formidable American officer and has agreed to see to our safe passage. I’ll not have you offending him with your needless questions.”

  “I’m not offended at all.” The captain repositioned himself to rest a foot atop his knee. “If you have concerns, by all means speak freely.”

  His candor took her by surprise. As a woman of quality, she’d never openly contradict her father’s opinions. Which was exasperating considering she had an opinion on almost everything. However, because of her strict upbringing, she had to find more subtle ways of expressing herself.

  “Victoria?” She didn’t miss the warning in her father’s tone.

  “Tori,” she corrected under her breath.

  Pointless, really. He would never take to her more fashionable nickname. He was stubborn and old-fashioned to a fault.

  “Whatever it is you call yourself. Answer the man.”

  Nothing at all wrong with his hearing.

  Tori glanced at the captain who didn’t bother to hide a smile.

  Over the years she’d found better ways of getting around her father’s petulance. “I certainly won’t argue with you, Father. If you say we must travel, then I’m sure you have your reasons.” Accepting a cup of tea from Higgins, she added two lumps of sugar with two deliberate plops.

  Her father gave her a ferocious scowl. “I’m in no mood for your antics this morning, Victoria.”

  Lately, he’d been in no mood for anything other than pestering her to come home early from school. Three months early to be exact. Something was definitely amiss. Her father, the only parent she’d ever known, had aged considerably since her last visit to Wrenbrooke. His usually vivid blue eyes were listless and tired. Deep lines framed the corners of his mouth. Most telling, however, was the way his bushy gray mustache twitched ever so often. Always a sure sign he was agitated.

  Now he was insisting they take a spontaneous trip across the ocean to visit relatives he hadn’t seen in twenty-five years. If truth be told, he didn’t care much for Aunt Charlotte and never minded saying so.

  So why this sudden need to travel to Savannah?

  As usual, she must take care not to ruffle his aristocratic feathers.

  “The captain assures me everything is ready for an early morning departure. So we shall have the carriages loaded and be on our way to the ship by this afternoon.”

  “Tomorrow morning? So soon?” Tori again looked over at the captain across from her. He said nothing but studied her with his eyes. Gentle eyes, deep brown, almost black. For a mere instant she had an unsettling feeling she could see her own reflection in their depths.

  Scolding herself, she realized she was behaving like an untutored ninny.

  “I say, Victoria. You’re not listening to a word I’ve said.”

  “Forgive me, Father. Please go on.”

  Her father pressed an intolerant frown upon her. “As I was saying, I should like to be on our way by one o’clock. Is that suitable to the both of you?”

  “Fine by me. Does that give you enough time?” Captain Saberton asked in an unfamiliar drawl.

  “I’ll have to send a note to Miss Mair as soon as possible. They’ll have to find a replacement for me for the rest of the school term.”

  “Well, now there’s something.” Her father waved Higgins off when the man tried to refill his cup. “When I allowed you to stay on at that simpering creature’s school, it most certainly was not to see you educated as a common clerk. All this training in writing and calculating numbers has you forgetting you are merely a female after all.”

  How utterly archaic. Tori made a face just outside her father’s line of view.

  This put her in a terrible predicament. Miss Mair would not be happy about her leaving them in such a bind.

  “You are not an ignoble school
mistress, Victoria.” The earl picked up his spoon and rattled it against his cup. My own fault, I suppose. I should have insisted you return home the minute you made sixteen. Should have secured you in a suitable marriage years ago.”

  The captain discretely coughed into his hand but the grin on his face said he found her father’s careless comment amusing.

  Her father was anything but tactful, and when he was on a tangent there was no telling what he might say.

  “Surely I don’t have to remind you that your mother was married and expecting you any day by the time she was nineteen.” With a shake of his gray head he gave her a disapproving mumble.

  Love for him washed over her. Despite his gruff mood, she knew he adored her and she’d missed him terribly. She’d even missed these prickly lectures he was so fond of.

  “You were a headstrong little whelp even then.” He turned toward the Captain. “She insisted on being born feet first, you know. Not in the least cooperative. “’Tis a blessed miracle Dr. Fitzpatrick was able to save her at all.”

  Tori refused to look at the man seated across from her. Her father’s lack of discretion only confirmed her suspicion that something was not right.

  “Unfortunately, of course, he was not adept enough to save her mother.” Her father took a long sip from his cup, gazing at the opulent pattern running through the rug laid out in front of his desk.

  Tori was stunned.

  He rarely spoke of her mother. As much as she hoped he’d say more, airing the details of such a personal loss, especially in the company of a stranger, was not like him at all.

  “My condolences, sir.” The captain’s consideration for her father sounded genuine. This time Tori did look over at him.

  When his attention turned to her, she had to remind herself not to look away. She wasn’t easily intimidated, but he had an imposing way about him and was far too free with his assessment of her. A blush warmed her cheeks, betraying her brave front.

  “Now, as I said, I should like to have the baggage loaded and on our way to port by one.” Her father stood and checked his timepiece. “Just after ten o’clock now. Are we clear, Victoria?”