The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2)

by Sahara Kelly

  The

  DOWAGER COUNTESS

  The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor – Book Two

  A Reverse Harem Risqué Romance

  Sahara Kelly

  Dedication

  I would like to send my thanks to all the lovely readers who took a chance on Book One of this saga, not sure what to expect from something labelled a “Reverse Harem Regency Romance”. I hope I didn’t disappoint either Regency fans or Reverse Harem fans, and that you’ll be interested enough to follow the Wolfbridge story as it continues.

  Thanks to my family, of course. Special thanks to my cat who managed to creep onto my lap whenever she felt I’d written for too long without paying attention to her. She served as an excellent reminded to take a break and blink now and again—something we writers tend to forget when the words are flowing.

  And many profound thanks to my fellow writers, especially my two dearest friends. I’ve often said that writing is a solitary occupation. One person, one keyboard, and a bunch of ideas equal one book. But the comfort and solace we share when those ideas dry up (or the keyboard crashes) …those things are beyond price. I sincerely hope I do my part in reciprocating, because I sure need those virtual hugs now and again…

  Author’s Note

  A part of this book revolves around the Whit Sunday festivities at Wolfbridge. If you’re unfamiliar with this holiday, it was the British way of observing the Christian festival of Pentecost. Interestingly enough, I discovered that the timing seems to owe a lot to the pagan celebration of Beltane, which—coincidentally? —occurred around the same time.

  While Whit Sunday isn’t really much of a “thing” anymore, except in one or two places, it used to be a special occasion—a time when the Lords of the Manors would release their workers for a short vacation. It marked an agricultural pause in the annual growing season, and was much anticipated, for obvious reasons.

  There were fêtes, pageants and parades, Morris dancing, and punting matches. Races were often held for the ladies, with ribbons as prizes. By the mid to late 1800s, many factories would close for the week of “Whitsuntide”, not to give their employees a rest so much as to strip, oil and repair their machinery.

  As the importance of the entire week diminished, Britain determinedly clung to the Whit Monday bank holiday, which I do recall as a holiday from school. It was finally replaced in 1971, and now the day is more commonly known as Spring Bank Holiday.

  However, for those of us who grew up with it, it will always be Whit Monday!

  Prologue

  Laughter and music drifted over Wolfbridge Manor on the warm breeze of a late autumn afternoon. For once the weather had obliged and the harvest festival planned by the Lady of Wolfbridge and her household had taken place beneath blue skies that showed nary a hint of the appalling rains that drowned the past spring, or the bitter cold of the previous winter.

  Adalyn Wilkerson was thrilled to bits, and by the end of the day guessed she must have walked a distance at least equal to the entire perimeter of her estate.

  As the Lady of Wolfbridge, it was Adalyn’s place to mastermind such events, and though it had taken her a while to become accustomed to such matters, today had been a splendid success and she was exhausted but proud that all had gone so well.

  “Yer did a marvel ‘ere, m’Lady,” said Mrs Barnsley, a local lady of much prestige. “I knew yer would, but ’tis good to see it ‘appen.”

  “I’m so happy, Mrs B.” Adalyn rested in a chair next to the older woman. “Everyone seems to have had a lovely time.”

  “Bit o’ dancin’ later, they tell me?”

  “I heard that too,” she grinned. “But to be honest, I doubt I’ll be kicking up my heels. I just want to put up my feet.”

  “And yerself so young…?” Mrs Barnsley chuckled. “I’d thought yon Daniel would ‘ave yer out there whirlin’ with the best of ‘em.”

  Adalyn gazed across the lawn to where a tall man was talking earnestly with another tall man. “He has me in a whirl all the time, you know.”

  “Ah, that’s the way it is when yer find the right one.”

  “It wasn’t easy.” Another man joined Daniel. “I love them all so much.”

  “If I were only twenty years younger,” sighed Mrs Barnsley.

  Adalyn chuckled. “You would have every man languishing, I have no doubt.”

  “I’d ‘ave every man tired out, lass, that I would.” She laughed aloud, then blinked. “Just between us, of course. Wouldn’t want Mr B. hearin’ that.”

  “I quite understand.”

  “Yer gonna wed the lad then?”

  “Yes, I am.” Adalyn’s heart sped up at the thought. “There are matters I have to take care of first, though. Because once I marry, I must leave Wolfbridge.”

  “Aye. I ‘eard somethin’ about that,” Mrs Barnsley replied sadly. “We’ll miss yer.”

  “As will I.” She sighed. “We’re hoping to be able to live somewhere nearby, but as I said, other things come first.”

  “Yer’ll be talkin’ of young Trick, then?”

  Adalyn swallowed roughly. “He’s confined, Mrs B. I cannot think about leaving until he is free.”

  “Jane said he’s still ‘opeful…”

  “I am so thankful for Jane. She’s been a constant support to Trick—and myself—since this mess started.” Adalyn sought out the gold head and the tall slender body of Mrs Barnsley’s daughter, finding her chatting with some young mothers. “And she’s made many friends.”

  “She ‘as,” nodded her mother proudly. “With them scars, it’s a good thing, since she’s standin’ taller now. Not ‘iding so much.”

  The unfortunate incident that had resulted in boiling water scarring half of Jane’s face had been put to rest by the friendship and respect she now enjoyed. At least Adalyn hoped so.

  “And we might be close to finding out who was responsible for Sir Amery’s death,” mused Adalyn, more to herself than to her companion.

  “That’ll be a good thing. I don’t like Fivetrees just layin’ there. Next yer know it’ll be fallin’ down in pieces.” She glanced at Adalyn. “Young Miss Fairhurst doing all right then, is she?”

  “From what I hear, yes,” answered Adalyn. “She is making new friends in London thanks to Sir Laurence and Lady Sydenham. And something called the Wednesday Club, although I’m not sure what that is.”

  “As long as she’s safe,” said the woman who mothered half the county. “And ‘ere comes yer young man.”

  Daniel walked across the grass, his gaze on Adalyn.

  Seeing him draw near sent a pleasurable shimmer of recognition up her spine as her body responded to the man she had chosen as her lifetime mate.

  Nobody seemed surprised when she announced that she and Daniel were going to become more than mistress and estate manager, although there was a moment of silence as her butler, her footman and her chef absorbed the information.

  But within seconds, Giles had smiled and nodded, giving his implicit approval.

  Then Jeremy and Evan had gathered around and hugged them both.

  And now it was accepted; everyone knew that the Mistress of Wolfbridge had found her chosen gentleman, and—like other Ladies of Wolfbridge had done before her—would tie the knot soon.

  Adalyn rose and held out her hands, knowing Daniel would take them in his.

  “How is everyone doing?” She asked the words as he neared, waiting for the warmth of his palms to caress her fingers.

  “They have had a wonderful afternoon, my dear, and ask that I convey their thanks.” He touched her then, a firm grasp and a tiny tickle
of his little finger beneath her overturned palm.

  She sucked in a breath and smiled at him. “I’m glad. How much longer should I stay?”

  “Yer both should leave now.” Mrs B. hauled herself to her feet and gazed at them. “Yer’ve worked ‘ard this day so others can rest. Now it’s yer turn. Go on with yer now.” And she shooed them away as if they were chickens.

  Daniel nodded. “I couldn’t agree more, Mrs B. The Lady of Wolfbridge should now leave the field to the dancers and musicians. We can watch and listen from indoors while you unwind.” He tucked Adalyn’s arm within his and led her toward the house.

  Once they were alone, Daniel leaned in and whispered “I want you naked, my love. I want to see the sunset shining on your skin…”

  “Daniel,” she sighed, as things liquified low in her belly. “Hush.” Then she looked up at him. “I want that too.”

  “And after I’ve made you scream…”

  “Yes?” Her gaze held his.

  “Then my love, we have to talk. There are matters you need to know.”

  Chapter One

  Adalyn sighed with exhaustion as her husband-to-be eased away from her weary body.

  “Tired?” he asked.

  “Happy,” she answered. “But yes, tired as well. Planning this festival, putting all the details in place…honestly, it’s been a challenge.” She turned on her side to look at him. “But one I’ve enjoyed.”

  His hands roamed over her bare skin, loving touches that made her smile. “And this has been the absolute best part.”

  Daniel smiled. “Well, my love, I’m glad to hear it, because I agree. Of course last night was wonderful too. And the night before that, and before breakfast on Wednesday…”

  She laughed. “Hush, sir. I shall be covered in blushes if you persist.” She tugged up the covers, since the light was fading and it would soon become cool. “So, Mr Fitzroy. You said you had something you wished to talk about. Now would be a very good time, don’t you think?”

  “I do.” It was his turn to sigh. “But it’s not easy, Adalyn. I must speak of my past.”

  She put out a hand, resting it on his face. “You don’t have to, Daniel. Truly you don’t.”

  “I know. But I would not feel right marrying you unless all lay bare between us. I’ve never lied to you, love, but there are things I’ve kept hidden. And they must not come between us. So best I tell you all, now, and then we can move on.”

  Knowing he spoke the truth, Adalyn nodded. “No matter what you say, Daniel, it will not affect my love for you. That is unshakeable.”

  He covered her hand with his. “I’m counting on that.”

  Adalyn snuggled against him and put her head on his shoulder, laying one arm across his chest. She often fell asleep in this exact spot, taking shameless advantage of her position as Lady of Wolfbridge to summon her lover to her bed. She had reached the point that sleeping without him was an impossibility and gave thanks that their wedding lay scant weeks away now. She was his wife in all but name, and couldn’t wait to formally become Mrs Daniel Fitzroy.

  “I have never told you of my past,” he began. “Only Giles knows the truth of it.”

  She stayed silent, knowing he must speak what was in his heart and praying she was strong enough to share whatever burdens he might still be carrying.

  “I was born to the owner of a small estate in Staffordshire. Nordean Swale. It was a respectable holding—not one that had any kind of title to it, but a tidily sized property and it had been in the Fitzroy family for several generations. Smaller than Wolfbridge, but able to provide for itself and a few farms, much as we do here.”

  “Go on,” Adalyn encouraged quietly.

  “My mother sacrificed her life for mine.” His words were soft, sad. “I never knew her, except from one painting of her.”

  “I’m sorry, Daniel.” She dropped a tender kiss on his chest.

  “As am I. She was lovely.” He shrugged. “However, my father still lived. Sadly, it seemed that every time he looked at me, he saw her death. I was the instrument of that disaster, thus he wanted nothing to do with me. I learned later that my first word was not Papa, but Deedee for my nurse.”

  “It is not unusual for male parents to remain apart from their children, Daniel. At least at a young age.”

  “This is true. And fortunately my dear Deedee was a warm and loving woman who brought some happiness into my life during those early years.” He smiled a little.

  “That’s good.”

  “It is. But it could not remain that way, of course. As I grew, my father made his distaste clear and forbade me to come anywhere near him. I was cursed, he said. I was a killer, he said. Brutal accusations for a child to suffer from his father.”

  “Dear God,” breathed Adalyn, shocked to her core. “My parents cared next to nothing for me, as you know, but what you’re telling me is far beyond what I experienced.”

  “He gave me away.”

  “What?”

  “In every sense of the word, he gave me away. I kept the family name—I have to suppose he couldn’t strip that from me since he had no other heir. But I moved out of the house completely. And I didn’t see him once for probably close to fifteen years.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I went to live with the estate manager, Mr Dawson. Albert Dawson. And God bless him, he was a kind and patient man. He noticed my interest in what he did, so besides arranging for a tutor for me, he also let me sit alongside him as he worked, and learn all about what he did. A skill that has served me well, I might add, for it brought me to you.” He picked up her hand from his chest, interlinked their fingers and carried it to his mouth, dropping a kiss on her knuckles.

  “For that alone, I am grateful to your Mr Dawson, Daniel.”

  “Yes, indeed. And as time went on, I was able to take over some management chores from Albert, dabbling in the running of Nordean Swale, understanding the finances, the decisions that were made to keep the place well-cared for. Albert came to rely on me, and together we made some significant improvements, most of which my father knew nothing about. He had discovered brandy during these years, and more often than not was the worse for wear, even when meeting with Albert.”

  “How sad.”

  “I suppose.” Daniel shrugged again. “It could have been otherwise, if he had been a different type of man. But he was stubborn in many ways and weak in others.”

  “Yes, that sounds very true.”

  “He enjoyed women,” Daniel’s voice levelled, revealing little of his emotions. “A lot of women. Few of whom were reputable, and several very expensive.”

  “Was he looking to replace your mother, do you think?” Adalyn asked the question uppermost in her mind.

  Daniel was silent for a moment. “It’s a possibility, I suppose. To be blunt, I didn’t care enough to think about it. I just stayed as far away as I could. But of course, the reports reached Albert’s cottage, and me.” He winced. “Those times were difficult.”

  “I can’t begin to imagine.”

  “Anyway, a few years ago, one woman’s name started to appear consistently. She’d arrived in the neighbourhood not too long before, and had seemed most interested in the drunken wreck of a man my father was becoming.”

  “Oh dear,” Adalyn shifted in his embrace. “This does not bode well.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” He paused for a moment or two. “They married. A hasty business, forgoing the banns and travelling to Scotland. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of months after they met—they became man and wife.”

  “Without telling you?”

  He gave a scornful laugh. “Without telling anyone. But that was my father’s way. His word was law in his own home, apparently. What he wanted, what he did…it was all perfectly proper in his mind because he ruled absolutely.”

  “So you found yourself with a step-mama.”

  “I did. I met her once or twice, out and around the estate. She was polite, aloof, an
d her eyes were hard, cold, assessing. I tried to like her, Adalyn. I really did. But there was something in her gaze that chilled me to the core.”

  “And your father?”

  “From what I heard, he was content and boasted about getting himself a new heir off her.”

  “Ugh. Daniel, your father was an ugly man. I’m sorry to say it, but he was. He didn’t deserve you.” Adalyn shuddered at the mere thought of what he must have experienced.

  “Let me finish, darling.” He sighed. “It wasn’t too long after their marriage when Albert and I began to notice small discrepancies in the bookkeeping records. Nothing huge, just ten pounds or so off here and there.”

  Adalyn closed her eyes and took a breath, well able to guess where the story was leading.

  “The problem grew. And by the end of that year, almost four years ago now, we knew that someone was stealing the estate blind.”

  “Your stepmother?”

  He nodded. “Yes. The sums that regularly disappeared were now quite sizeable. The quality of the farms started to deteriorate because we had insufficient funds to help them through the winter the way we usually did. Then there were demands for money from my father. Jewellery, gowns, all that kind of thing. And when Albert tried to tell him, he flew into a rage. He even hit Albert once, blacking his eye.” He swallowed. “Can you imagine it, Adalyn? An older man, trying to do his best for his master, and getting punched for his troubles?”

  She shook her head. “No, no I simply can’t, Daniel. How terrible a time for you and Mr Dawson.”

  “It all came to a head that winter. Albert became ill—whether through worry or for other reasons—and reduced to bedrest for several weeks while he recovered. During that period, I determined it was time to have it out with my stepmother.”

  “That was a daring decision.”

  “I had to, Adalyn. If I didn’t stop her, the estate would be ruined.” He took a breath. “So I went to the house, a place I’d not been in years. I told their butler, a man I’d never met, that I wished to see Mrs Fitzroy. She walked down the stairs, her nose in the air and demanded to know how I dared to disturb the family. The family, she called it, as if I wasn’t one of them.”