by Sahara Kelly
The
Rightful Lord
The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor – Book Three
A Reverse Harem Risqué Romance
Sahara Kelly
Content © Sahara Kelly, 2021
Cover art © Sahara Kelly, 2021
Dedication
This novel comes with an apology to all you wonderful readers who enjoyed the first two books in this series, and wrote me such delightful emails asking when this one was to be released.
The old saying about “best laid plans” held true for this book, to be sure. It’s a year late, and that is completely my fault. Yes, the whole pandemic thing was neither fun, nor conducive to working on anything as complex as this, but I still should have at least made a token effort. I didn’t, and for that I’m truly sorry. I will say that having this many characters involved in relationships isn’t easy, and it does take a lot of time and effort to make sure everyone gets their fair share of “word time”. I hope I’ve come near to attaining that goal, and that you find this story worth the wait.
I’ve had a long and challenging road with Wolfbridge, and yet I have come to love the characters and their adventures. Will there be another Saga of Wolfbridge Manor? I don’t think so. After you have finished this book, you’ll see why.
But then again, one should never say “never” …
Author’s Note
There are some legal terms used in this story; most are a familiar part and parcel of the Regency period, but I did find one that is a little out of the ordinary (and it’s important in several ways). It is “Mortmain”, or Mortua Manus in Latin – literally “dead hand”. It refers to:
“…The inalienable possession of lands or buildings by an ecclesiastical or other corporation. Also the condition of property or other gifts left to a corporation in perpetuity, especially for religious, charitable or public purposes.” Merriam Webster
It’s a real thing which dates back to the early sixteenth century, and is probably still in existence today, but my research didn’t go that far. It guaranteed that a piece of land would remain under the ownership of those who set up the Mortmain, and their heirs. You will learn of its importance to Wolfbridge as you read on.
I’ve also introduced mention of Hallowmas as part of the All Hallow’s Eve festivities. It is, of course, better known today as All Saints Day, but for my purposes, the older term worked better, as did the charming tradition of dousing the fires and relighting them to mark the passing and resurrection of loved ones into the light. It also symbolized the preparation for the long winter to come. A nice little ceremony for the folks living at Wolfbridge to enjoy.
PLEASE NOTE: This book is the third and final story of Wolfbridge Manor and its residents. Your enjoyment will be enhanced by reading Books One and Two first, since most of the characters are introduced in those volumes.
Part of the letter written by Aphrodite,
first Lady of Wolfbridge, to her successors...
“To thee, dear lady, who now hath attained the title of Lady of Wolfbridge, I send greetings.
Thou doubtless now find thyself much at ease within these walls, tended by the gentlemen selected for their roles with great acuity and deliberation. Thou willst have learned to love Wolfbridge as did I, and also to love these gentlemen who care for naught but thy happiness. Such is their desire to serve, thou shouldst allow liberties and chances for them to show many affections for thy person. For thus are they rewarded for their constancy.
Choose not one too soon, dear friend, but explore each as a new treasure, and with the eagerness of a pirate seeking gold. Let thy heart be thy guide. Love knoweth no bounds, or restrictions to a single mate if more than one catches thine eye. I shall speak no more of this since thy heart must perchance already be of warm disposition toward thy gentlemen. I ask only thou accept such attentions and derive thy pleasure vastly. Wolfbridge shall demand no less than complete and utter devotion to the happiness of all who reside within. …”
Prologue
Journal of Gwyneth, Dowager Countess, Lady of Wolfbridge - August 1818
I scarce know how to begin this entry, in light of the shocking events that occurred earlier today.
Even though I am alone, having come to the parlour to catch my breath and restore my energies, I am struggling to find the right words.
At this moment, in the room over the barn, my gentlemen are tending to a terribly injured young woman. Miss Susanna Brockford arrived this morning, but not of her own volition.
She was thrown—literally thrown—from a carriage, bundled up in an old blanket and discarded much like yesterday’s rubbish.
Upon removing her wrappings, her condition was revealed to our shocked gaze.
All of us were there; Gabriel and I had been busy with our plantings, but I must have screamed, for within seconds Evan, Jeremy and Royce were at our side, helping us. Jeremy immediately recognised her and whitened most frighteningly.
The bruises. Oh, such terrible bruises discolouring the poor woman’s features. She was unconscious, and for that I am grateful, since Royce had to carry her to the barn and I cannot but help believe such an action would have caused her dreadful agony should she have been awake to experience it.
We knew that taking her to the room over our barn, Trick’s former nest, was the only option, since the laws of Wolfbridge forbid any other single woman spending a night in Wolfbridge itself. However, all the conveniences are there, and she is as comfortable as she would be in one of the Manor bedchambers.
Royce took control immediately, since his experiences fighting in Europe bestowed him with the medical knowledge needed at this moment. We all observed the damage to her lovely face and grieved to see such an atrocity. But as we began to care for her, other injuries revealed themselves.
Her wrists and ankles showed signs of vicious bindings, and bruises were flowering on her torso.
I could not but agree with Royce that she had been cruelly beaten, but by whom and for what reason…well, we are all at a loss.
Dear Jeremy has been dreadfully affected by all this, as one would expect. She was the woman at the centre of the scandal that nearly resulted in his death, several years ago. I suspect he might have had more than a friendly interest in her, since his face—usually so amiable and happy—has changed over the last hours.
He appears to carry a great weight, a sorrow perhaps, and I confess I miss the Jeremy of yesterday at this moment. His arms would be most welcome.
But Evan and Gabriel have made sure that I am all right, Evan bringing me tea, and accompanying it with his warm kisses. He has promised a cold collation for this evening —the perfect idea, since I doubt any of us wish to sit down to a formal dinner.
The air is growing very heavy and clouds are peeping over the horizon, so one might expect storms tonight, echoing the chaos of our day.
Poor Gabriel is overset; his sensitivity and kindness completely shattered by what he has seen. I believe they might well remind him of his own past experience with such acts of physical violence, so I was glad to be able to hold him, and spend a few minutes cuddling him to me. The warmth we share comforted us both, I think, and I welcomed his passionate caresses, knowing that we were both reminded we were lucky to be alive.
Indeed, I am lucky, so very lucky.
I have four wonderful men to grant my every wish, take care of my every need, and three of them share my bed. Yes, it sounds strange, and horridly scandalous, but I am well aware that I am the most blessed of women. Being the Lady of Wolfbridge saved my life.
I can but hope that the happiness we all find here will, in some
small measure, help Miss Brockford fight her way through this disaster.
Chapter One
“Is she still unconscious?”
Gwyneth, current Lady of Wolfbridge and previously Dowager Countess of Kilham, bent over the bed and peered at the young woman lying bandaged beneath a sheet.
A tall man next to her sighed and nodded. “Yes, and it’s probably better that she should remain so for some time yet, but I wish she could have said something about how this happened.”
“Poor Royce,” Gwyneth rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve seen more than your fair share of wounds and injuries since you arrived at Wolfbridge, haven’t you?”
“More than I expected, that’s certain,” he agreed. “But less than war, my Lady. Less than war.” He turned back, his face stern, his focus on his patient.
“Wolfbridge is lucky to have you,” she said, her voice quiet. “And so is Miss Brockford.”
“I’m not sure she’ll make it, Gwyneth,” he said softly.
The fact he used her name brought home the significance of his statement. Royce was very much aware of his new place at Wolfbridge. He was, in title, the butler. But in fact he was so much more. Wolfbridge could not have existed without his predecessor, and the traditions and beliefs Giles had maintained for so long continued unabated in the capable hands of his handpicked successor, Royce, ex-warrior and erstwhile doctor.
“She will,” said Gwyneth firmly. “She’s a fighter. She fought off her attacker so long ago, and thanks to Jeremy, she survived a horrid experience. Now she’s here, and thanks to you—and all of us—she’ll survive this as well.”
He shook his head. “She has broken ribs. I fear there may be some internal injuries, and the beating she received didn’t exclude her skull. I cannot tell what kind of damage took place there…if she wakes up we’ll know more, but…” he paused, then squared his shoulders. “We should be prepared for her not to wake at all, my Lady.”
She nodded. “Understood.”
Her eyes roamed around the snug quarters that had been created above the barn many years before. “Trick was comfortable here, I believe.” She took comfort from remembering her handsome groom, now happily wed and awaiting his first child.
Royce stood and joined her, glancing from the small fireplace to the windows and cupboards. “I understand he used it when the horses might need him at any time. Foaling, or injured or healing…Trick is a master when it comes to animals.”
“He’s not such a master when it comes to fatherhood, though,” she smiled. “He’s getting rather nervous now. He felt the baby move, and Jane told me he turned quite white.”
The woman on the bed shifted slightly and a sound that could have been a moan issued from her lips.
Both Royce and Gwyneth turned quickly, he hurrying to her side, while she remained still, her heart thumping rapidly.
Royce touched the slender throat. “Susanna. Susanna, can you hear me?”
There was nothing.
“Is she…” Gwyneth scarce breathed the words.
“She’s still with us,” said Royce. “Come on Susanna. Wake up, woman. Fight. Hear my voice…speak to us, give us something, even if it’s only a murmur…”
For a moment, it seemed as if the birds outside fell silent.
Then Susanna’s head turned ever so slightly and her lips parted on a moan.
Royce took her hand. “You’re safe. You’re at Wolfbridge and we’re taking care of you now.”
“Wolfbridge,” she whispered. “Jeremy…”
“That’s right, Susanna,” Gwyneth stood beside Royce, unable to keep away. “Jeremy’s here. You’re safe. You must get well now.”
And there was silence once again.
Gwyneth looked at him. “She’s going to get better. We have to believe that…”
“Where is Jeremy?” Royce asked, dodging the implied question. “He hasn’t been here since we brought her in.”
“I’m not sure,” she replied, worried that she had no better answer. “He seemed terribly upset. Perhaps he is taking some time to deal with this. With the fact she’s been so badly injured and that she ended up here. As someone’s horrid idea of a gift.”
Royce nodded. “Perhaps.” He looked back at the figure in the bed. A bandage around one side of her face showed signs of blood; the wound that had opened her skin from eyebrow to scalp was not deep, but had been bleeding heavily, as head wounds are prone to do.
Her eye was black and blue on that side, and swollen shut, and the rest of that part of her face was distorted.
She’d been punched, without a doubt. “She’s lucky her jaw isn’t broken,” said Royce, more to himself than Gwyneth.
But she heard. “She was beaten, wasn’t she.” It was a statement, not a question.
Royce sighed. “Yes, she was beaten. And restrained far too roughly.”
“What on earth could she have done to warrant such treatment?” Gwyneth shook her head in disbelief.
“I doubt she did anything that bad.” Royce turned to Gwyneth. “Better to ask who on earth could perpetrate such treatment. Anyone who acts in that violent a fashion toward a woman…well, I don’t need to tell you my sentiments about that…”
“No, indeed not.” Gwyneth touched his arm. “And you’re right. We have to find out who did this to her. Perhaps when she awakens…”
“She may not want to speak of it, my Lady.” Evan’s voice joined theirs. “I brought a little broth in the hopes she might have recovered enough to try it, but I see I was precipitate in my actions.”
“Not to worry,” said Royce. “It will be good for her if she wakes. And it will keep, Evan. It’s a good thought.”
Evan nodded, put down the small bowl on a table, and walked to the bed. “Such a slender thing, she is.” He gently touched her cheek with his finger. “And so badly hurt.”
“We were just speaking of that.” Gwyneth beckoned him away so that Susanna would sleep. “Royce and I both agree that we would like to find out whoever did this to her.”
Evan’s handsome face fell into firm lines, betraying his anger. “As would I.”
“Where’s Gabriel?” asked Royce. “We should have him look at her injuries.”
“Why?” Evan blinked.
Royce opened his mouth to answer, but Gwyneth forestalled him. “Mostly likely because Gabriel has had the most experience with beatings like this, Evan.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “He’s healing. Learning to be the man he was always supposed to be. But I know he’s travelled a road that many would not survive in order to get here. If he can help us—help Susanna—I believe he will do so.”
Royce nodded. “You know him well. And me too, which is rather unnerving. But you’re right.”
She smiled briefly at him. “We’re all learning. Me most of all. But as Lady of Wolfbridge, I vow here and now that we’ll get to the bottom of this. Susanna may only be a distant connection to the Manor—by virtue of Jeremy’s rescue—but the fact remains she was literally thrown at our feet…as if she was some sort of rubbish. And I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.”
The sound of footsteps made both Royce and Gwyneth turn their heads to the door. Jeremy followed Gabriel into the room and his gaze darted past everyone to the woman lying still beneath the covers. Silently, he walked to her side, then knelt by the bed and took her hand, raising it to his lips. “Don’t leave me, Susanna,” he murmured. “Not again, please?”
Gwyneth whispered to Gabriel, telling him of the young woman’s injuries.
He nodded and joined Jeremy on the other side of the bed, delicately turning Susanna’s face and then lifting the sheets to look at her chest and torso.
His face was grave when he turned to Royce and Gwyneth. He shook his head.
“No,” muttered Jeremy. “Please God, no…”
In the quiet that followed, Susanna took a harsh breath and coughed, choking as blood leaked from her lips. Her eyes widened, then closed.
“R
oyce…” Gwyneth ran to the bedside to stand beside Jeremy.
“There’s naught I can do,” he answered, his voice thick with agony. “Nothing…”
Jeremy sighed deeply and kissed her hand once again, holding it briefly to his cheek, then laying it across her chest. “You don’t need to,” he said softly. “She’s gone.”
*~~*~~*
They stood together as one, as Wolfbridge, Gwyneth and her gentlemen, Gabriel, Evan, Jeremy and Royce. All staring down as the coffin was lowered into the ground.
Gwyneth herself had been near death as the Dowager Countess of Kilham; only the sanctuary of Wolfbridge had saved her life. But she had learned about strength and resilience, recovered her health, and now led the Manor with a firm and loving grip. Her four gentlemen were hers to command. Hers to love. And she did, wholeheartedly, passionately and without reservation.
Royce’s hand directed Wolfbridge, a hand firmed by war and forged by experiences in his past that had forced him to question what life was all about. But settled now in the country, he was also discovering his potential, thinking less about the darkness and more of building a sturdy future for Wolfbridge.
Evan and Jeremy were the most familiar with the Manor, since they had been there the longest, and Gabriel, with his pale hair and vivid blue eyes, was the most recently arrived.
The death of the young woman they were saying farewell to at this moment had been a terrible shock for all of them.
Vicar Thomas of St. Polycarp’s had officiated at the quiet ceremony, gently offering her soul to the Lord and what comfort he could to the party from Wolfbridge who attended in quiet grief. He’d asked no questions, but merely nodded, expressing his sympathies and sadness at the loss of one so young.
Gwyneth kept her explanations simple. Susanna had been a friend of theirs, with no family, who had suffered a devastating accident on the road to Wolfbridge.