The Stolen Diadem of a Castaway Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hanna Hamilton

  “Think nothing of it!” Pencot replied brightly. “There’s not a man among Prince Aaron’s men who isn’t grieved over this. We’ll find her, sir. I promise. And Cooke will lead the way.”

  Lord Bellton and Beatrix spoke late into the evening. Servants passed through the room on silent feet, carrying in more courses then removing their plates, serving dessert courses and refreshing their glasses. All the while, the pair spoke on a great number of subjects, both of them opening the other’s eyes on a few topics of interest.

  When at last she could keep her eyes open no longer, Beatrix begged forgiveness to take her leave. Callum apologized for the late hour and offered to once again escort her.

  “Thank you for agreeing to dine with me tonight,” Callum said as they approached the door to her room. “I hope I was better able to be understood.”

  “And I as well,” Beatrix said. “I hope you see that I am not unwilling to help you, but cannot put my family in peril in order to do so.”

  “I would be a cad of the lowest sort to expect such a thing,” Callum agreed. “Tomorrow morning, I have some business to attend to. But if you are so obliged, I would be very happy if you might ride with me around noon time.”

  “Ride? Of course,” Beatrix replied, taken aback by the request. Surely he did not think she might ride in the gown she was wearing?

  “Then I shall see you at that time,” Callum replied, smiling warmly. “Good night… Lady Beatrix.”

  He bowed slightly and left her at her door, leaving Beatrix to succumb to the strangest mixture of emotions. She went into her room and closed the door behind her, intent on falling into bed and pondering the recent turn of events, but a knock at the door prevented her.

  “Good sir, I must have some sleep!” Beatrix said with a laugh as she pulled the door open. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you.”

  Birdie waited on the other side, a sheepish expression on her face. “I’m sorry, miss. I waited for ya so I might help ya with yer gown. I sent Greta to bed due to the late hour, seein’ as how she has to help cook the breakfast in the mornin’.”

  “Of course, Birdie, that is most kind of you! But I cannot trouble you any further, especially at this hour. I’m sure I can manage if you wish to go to bed yourself,” Beatrix replied, but the girl shook her head adamantly.

  “I don’t mind a bit!” Birdie followed Beatrix into the room and pointed to the dressing table in the bedroom. “Take yer seat, and I’ll get these pins outta yer hair first. Ya mustn’t ever take it upon yerself to do it, for if ya miss one o’tha pins, you’ll be sure to find it in yer sleep that night!”

  With deft fingers, Birdie plucked the pins out of Beatrix’s hair and brushed out the curls into a waterfall of soft brown waves. When she’d finished, she set about unfastening all the buttons down Beatrix’s back, politely turning away once she’d finished so that Beatrix might change into her night gown behind the screen.

  “You’ve woven quite a spell this evening, Birdie! You and Greta both,” Beatrix said, laughing. “I cannot remember a time when I’ve felt so pleasing to the eye.”

  “Aw, thank ya, miss! ‘Tis Greta who’s taught me a thing or two about how to fashion a lady’s hair and dress,” Birdie answered shyly. “If not for her, I’d be stuck down in the cellar, washing dishes and mending garments. She says that I might ‘improve myself’ if I practice and learn a bit.”

  “She’s right, of course,” Beatrix said. “Learning to do something makes you even more useful. But you’re only ‘stuck’ down there if you choose to be.”

  Birdie blushed at the compliment and bade Beatrix goodnight. Once the door closed softly behind her, Beatrix turned and eyed the object of her longing: the soft bed with its mountains of billowing coverlets and pillows. She’d scarcely slept these past few nights with only the stone floor to cushion her, and she couldn’t wait to finally get a restful night’s sleep.

  So it was a strange happenstance that Beatrix could not fall asleep. Try as she might to clear her mind behind her closed eyes, images of the Marquess continued to move before her vision. His disarming smile made her shiver beneath the down covers, and the warmth in his deep brown eyes intrigued her. Even the soft wave of his golden-red hair gave him an air of casual friendliness. Had she not noticed all of these things before? Or had something different about him struck her notice?

  “Remember, silly goose,” Beatrix mumbled, chastising herself. “He is no hero in this tale. He has much to prove about the sort of man he truly is before he is to be forgiven.”

  “I think that shall be all, Barclay,” Callum said after his valet had taken his dinner jacket and brushed it upon its stand. Callum waited in his trousers and dress shirt, still uncertain as to what he might do next.

  “Very good, My Lord.” Barclay nodded and turned to go, but he stopped when Callum called out to him.

  “What do you think of our houseguest?” he suddenly asked. The valet looked around for a moment, confused.

  “Our guest, My Lord? Do you mean… that woman?”

  “Yes, that’s who I mean,” Callum answered, still staring absently at sundry items of his table. “She is… rather interesting, don’t you agree?”

  “Of course, My Lord. I haven’t spoken much with her, to be certain, but she does seem to garner a lot of the staff’s attention.” Barclay smiled and inched towards the door, as though hoping his part in the conversation had come to an end.

  “Oh really? What do they say?” Callum asked, turning to look at him as his curiosity got the better of him.

  “Well, for one, they are rather impressed that she is not the sort to complain. After that one incident in which she kicked the footman in the backside and attempted to escape, she’s been the picture of compliant respect.”

  “Yes, I recall hearing about that,” Callum said as though examining the scheme anew. “What else do they say?”

  “If I may be so bold, My Lord, they are certainly taken with her beauty,” Barclay said, hesitating only a little. “She has an exotic air about her, does she not?”

  “Perhaps. I hadn’t noticed,” Callum said, lying.

  “Most of all, I think they are intrigued by the nature of her story. How does a common thief come to possess such manners and elocution? This person has obviously benefitted from tutors of some caliber, I should think.”

  “My, Barclay,” Callum said, teasing only a little, “you certainly know a lot about her for one who claims to have barely said two words to her.”

  “Begging your pardon, My Lord,” Barclay said, blushing profusely and bowing low, “that is the assessment of the staff, as you requested. As you yourself have said, I have hardly any knowledge of her at all.”

  When Callum didn’t reply, the valet bowed again and mumbled his goodnight, turning and fleeing from the Marquess’s chambers. Left alone with his thoughts, Callum wondered at what his own household had noticed. Beatrix was certainly a brave young woman, one with a strange air about her, as they had noticed in their brief dealings with her.

  But her beauty? It was growing more and more obvious by the moment, and Callum couldn’t help but see her face before him at all hours of the day. He was sure that hers would be the face he saw in his dreams that very night, even if he couldn’t specify which of her features was so alluring. What was so intriguing about her, though, that even his servants who’d spent so little time in her presence might have made such a full assessment?

  There was a knock at the door, and Callum bade them enter. Lloyd opened it and announced a letter for the marquess which had just arrived by courier.

  “At this hour?” Callum asked, glancing at the clock and frowning before rising to take it from the butler. “What could be so important that a rider might be dispatched during the night?”

  “It came from the officer of the court, the Detective Hand who paid a call. The rider said it was urgent, My Lord,” Lloyd said, holding out the silver tray with the folded letter on top.

  Callum ope
ned it and read its contents quickly, his worry turning to relief. Reading it aloud, he went on to explain, “The detective only seeks to warn us that roving bands of outlaws may have been seen upon the highways nearby. That is rather kind of him to take the trouble to issue such a warning, though I wonder if it was so urgent it couldn’t have been shared via post tomorrow.”

  “I know not, My Lord. But the warning has come. I will see to it that all of the staff are made aware,” the butler said.

  “Thank you, Lloyd. Excellent idea,” Callum said. “Good night, then.”

  “Good night, My Lord.” The butler left and closed the door behind him, leaving Callum to his rest.

  But rest was the last thing on Callum’s mind. Roving bands of outlaws? Such as those who might seek to bring home a certain lady who belongs with them? Callum was astonished to feel how deep that fear ran. It was not merely fear of being descended upon by these villains, but fear of something else… of Beatrix leaving forever.

  Chapter 16

  “Good day!” Beatrix said brightly as she emerged from the house, striding up to Callum purposefully. “I see you’re ready for our ride?”

  Callum turned at the sound of her voice and nearly stumbled backwards. He looked at Beatrix and then immediately looked away, uncertain as to how he should respond.

  “Is something the matter?” Beatrix asked knowingly.

  Callum coughed to cover his embarrassment, then said, “I wasn’t expecting you…”

  “You weren’t expecting me? But you’re the one who invited me. Just last evening, you proposed the idea of a ride through your estate. And here I am, as agreed,” Beatrix announced, fighting back laughter.

  “No, I mean I wasn’t expecting… that you would be wearing trousers.” Callum still looked away, as though unsure of what to do.

  “I’m sorry, but what did you expect that I would be wearing? The gown I wore to dinner last night?” she said, laughing. “I fear you might have a shortage of ladies’ riding habits stashed in a closet somewhere because your servants brought me another dress, one that would be most unsuitable for the occasion.”

  “I am happy to postpone until I can arrange for something more appropriate, if you wish,” he said, risking an awkward glance at Beatrix. For her part, she ducked her head to meet his downcast gaze.

  “My Lord, this is the appropriate attire for riding a horse. My father wouldn’t hear of me attempting to ride in something so cumbersome and dangerous as long skirts and many layers beneath.”

  “Your father dressed you in men’s trousers to go riding?” Callum asked, barely containing his shock.

  “Of course,” she answered, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “Did you think my father would have taught me to ride like a lady? Or would you think a notorious outlaw would want his only child to know how to ride safely and with great speed?”

  “I… I see. I’m sorry, I was merely surprised by it. I wasn’t thinking of your specific situation,” Callum explained, slowing turning to look at her. He was pleased to see that the cut of the clothing fit her well, and that she did not look as if a poor beggar had cast off his unwanted garments on her.

  “It’s quite all right. And if it eases your conscience any, know that many ladies ride in trousers now. Oh no, not the fancy girls who prance about the town square on their gentle ponies, hoping to be seen by their well-to-do peers. But women who have work that must be done and who rely upon their horses to see them through it often must wear long garments. It’s that or risk the scandal of a bare ankle!”

  Callum blushed at her description, his cheeks nearly matching his hair. He managed a weak laugh, though, and introduced Beatrix to the horse he had chosen for her.

  “This is Snow,” he said, extending the reins to a beautiful white mare with a long mane.

  “She’s beautiful,” Beatrix said, taking the reins and coming close to let the animal get a sense of her. She opened her hand and let the horse see her empty palm before placing it upon the animal’s velvet-soft nose.

  Snow dropped her head a moment later and nudged Beatrix’s hand until it rested just below her forelock, practically begging to be scratched behind the ears. Beatrix laughed merrily, a sound that delighted Callum to no end.

  “What an intelligent creature!” Beatrix said. “I like a girl who knows how to speak her mind and demand what she wants!”

  “That is a most apt description of Snow, I warn you!” he answered, laughing as the horse shook its head and stepped repeatedly on her front hooves as though dancing. “She’s telling us she’s stood here long enough, she wants to go for a ride.”

  “I agree wholeheartedly, Snow!” Beatrix said, pretending to whisper in a conniving way to the horse. “But are we to trot happily about, or gallop off among the hills?” She turned to look at Callum and said, “I’m sorry, I had planned to have an enjoyable ride with you, but Snow has informed me that she insists upon racing like a hooligan. You’ll have to do your best to keep up!”

  Callum laughed, thrilled to have met his equal in one who adored both horses and riding. “I think we shall have to see about that. I won’t have you thrown from your horse on my watch, even if it was at the animal’s insistence.”

  Beatrix grinned devilishly, then pulled herself up into the saddle before Callum could even move to help her. He stepped back and looked briefly astonished, then hoisted himself up on his horse as well.

  They led their horses away from the stable down a path that had been worn by many an afternoon’s ride. Beatrix glanced in every direction and took in the landscape before them.

  “I can see the appeal of the property, but why do you need so much of it?” she asked before pressing a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I don’t mean it to accuse you of greed, I meant it sincerely.”

  “I took no offense,” Callum said, surprised to find that he meant it. “It’s not something I’ve thought of. It is all part of my holdings, that’s all. What would you have me do, sell it off in parcels?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered, a hint of a smug tone returning to her words. “I must admit that having too much of anything—other than debt and worry—is not a dilemma I’ve ever had.”

  “I must admit, it’s also a problem I’ve never thought much of, at least not until you brought it to my attention. I mean this with all sincerity when I say thank you for forcing me to see,” Callum replied.

  Beatrix nodded mutely, unaccustomed to such humility from one such as this gentleman. She was suddenly very aware of how close he was, and felt a strange desire to both remain with him and also flee as quickly as she could.

  No good can come of these thoughts! She chided herself angrily. You should stay far away from him!

  “So I think the horses have had a sufficient walk. Where are we to ride?” she asked, reminding Lord Bellton of the purpose of their outing.

  “Um, yes. I thought to show you the ruins of an abbey not far from here. It is quite a wonder, as nature herself has reclaimed it in the most spectacular way.” Callum’s suggestion hung in the air between them before he remembered to add, “Oh, but I thought we might first stop at my old governess’s home. She has a niece who lives with her to care for her in her old age, and I happen to know she is very fond of riding. She will be a suitable chaperone, if you prefer.”

  “That would be wonderful, and I should love to lay eyes upon the poor creature who was tasked with teaching you your lessons!” Beatrix said with a laugh, but her expression turned serious. “But tell me, when you and I met on the road, were you not just come from your parents’ home?”

  “Why, yes,” Callum answered, confused.

  “If that great distance away was their home, how is your governess dwelling close by?” Beatrix cocked her head to the side, waiting for his explanation.

  “Well, I didn’t live with my parents as a child,” he explained, as though it were the most normal course of action. “I grew up here, at the property that was to be
my inheritance. My mother’s brother died without an heir, and it naturally came to me.”

  Beatrix’s eyes pricked with the threat of tears. “How old were you when you were sent to live here?”

  “Let me think, I must have been about four years old. Yes, it was the spring after my uncle’s death, and I remember I had just seen him at Christmas holiday.”

  “Four years old?” Beatrix shouted. “Who sends a child of four away from his parents?”

  Callum only shrugged. “It’s quite common among… among certain classes of people, especially if titles and inheritance are an issue. But I was never lonely! I had a governess, as I mentioned, and later on a series of tutors. There were also the servants to dote on me and keep me entertained. Some of the families my parents knew would send their young charges to visit me on occasion, and of course my parents came when they could.”