The Sullen Seamstress of Horenwall Manor: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  Norman rolled his eyes, “Do you trust me?”

  She eyed him darkly but then nodded.

  “Then allow me to assure you, nothing will happen. Place your left foot on the stirrup, and hold on to the other side of the saddle. I’ll help you up.” Norman said gently reaching over to hold the horse steady.

  Rosaline placed her foot in the iron foothold but was not ready to feel Norman’s hand circling her waist. His large hands framed her waist so perfectly that she was of a mind to not get on the horse at all, but she did and with his gentle help was up and seated.

  Twisted this way felt unnatural, Rosaline decided when the faint dizziness from being so high passed.

  “Good, center your weight, and then place your right leg over the pommel and your left under the leaping head.” He directed gesturing at two jutting pieces of the saddle.

  Arranging her legs was difficult with the fold of her dress in the way and with her inexperience, but she eventually managed.

  “Now, sit back a—” Norman directed.

  The horse suddenly stepped backward and terrified, Rosaline grabbed at the reins so desperately that the horse’s head snapped back, and he whinnied.

  “Easy Goliath, easy boy,” Norman consoled the steed, “Loosen your grip Rosaline, you’re strangling him.”

  Even though she was nearly paralyzed with fear, she slowly let the length of the reins slip out and eventually loosened them completely.

  “I’m sorry,” Rosaline admitted. “It is strange sitting on something that moves…this is very strange.”

  “With time and practice it grows on you eventually,” Norman said while coming to her side, “Here let me help you down, I promise to not drop you.”

  Hesitantly, she unhooked her leg from under the leaping head and removed the other from the pommel. Norman lightly grasped her waist as her hands settled on his shoulders. Carefully she was lowered to the ground, her slight body sliding down his until her feet touched brittle stalks of hay. Rosaline’s head twisted away, she feared another kiss was coming her way, but she was only embraced highly.

  Norman then produced an apple and gave to the horse, “Your reward, Goliath.”

  Rosaline stepped away and caught sight of the deepening sky, “It’s late, we should go back.”

  He nodded, and reached forward and kissed her forehead, “Go on, I’ll be in soon. Remember what I said, I will take care of it all. Have some faith in me.”

  “I trust you,” she smiled then slipped out the door.

  For once, watching her go did not pain him like the other times she had left him. Instead, this time he only felt joy. Unsaddling Goliath, Norman caved in and fed the big horse the rest of apples. “Consider it advanced payment for the next thing you’ll do right.”

  With the horse fed and back in his stall, Norman cursed himself, the comb was still in his pocket. He had forgotten to give it to Rosaline.

  Damnation. Oh well, another time then.

  Entering the foyer, he was met by the butler.

  “Good evening, Your Grace. Mr. Dodge was just here and he left his for your perusal,” the butler, Mr. Colden said while offering him a sealed letter. “He said the contents might surprise you.”

  His left eyebrow danced up, “Really now, thank you, Colden.”

  Norman entered the study with the letter and dropped it on his desk before pouring himself a glass of water. Bracing his hip on the wooden desk, he took a sip and popped the seal on the letter. Was it the report on the Ogbent’s that he had been waiting for to dissolve this sham of a courtship?

  Instead of the report on the Ogbents, this was a report on Rosaline’s family, and reading two lines in on the report, his throat went as dry as a wasteland. He read how her parents had died from grievous illness, and how she and her sister Mary were sent to charity schools until her sister gained a position of lady maid to the Ogbent family, and Rosaline was sent off to Mrs. Caddell.

  The Ogbent family. The same people he had in his home!

  “…It is reported that the maid, Mary Hall, died of consumption in the prison cell she was sent to.”

  Mary—the same Mary that Ogbent had dallied with. Mary was Rosaline’s sister! And the worst part…she begged me to tell her sister goodbye but…I did not know who she was…”

  No wonder Rosaline had gone pale the moment she had heard the name in his mother’s drawing room. She had known she was going to be in close contact with the family who had killed off her sister. Norman would approach her on his findings later, but now— his anger was on Lord Ogbent.

  He felt like throwing all three out of his home but restrained himself— barely. The report on the Ogbents, that was going to be his coup-de-grace he knew it. This report was only a forerunner.

  His fist crushed the letter into a tight ball and swore, “That bastard. I will make him rue the very day he met me.”

  Chapter 24

  Dare she dream? Did Rosaline dare to allow her mind to go to places that she knew were forbidden? Did she dare allow herself to envision a life with the duke? She could, but she did not.

  The Duke’s—Norman’s—words were titillating, but Rosaline had to ground herself in reality. There was no possible way that whatever the Duke was thinking could be possible. It sounded fantastic—but there lies the problem, it was fantasy.

  In the dark or her room, Rosaline knew that the moment the Ogbents came back, her little stitch in time would disappear, and the lines separating her from the lady’s world would come back, bolder than before. No matter what the Duke saw her as, she was still a servant, and only a servant,

  I must enjoy it while I can.

  Meanwhile, she had to figure out what she could do to get information on Mary. How could she approach Lord Ogbent? Could she do so anyway without making him get suspicious? Could she approach him at all?

  She drifted off to sleep thinking. If anything, I have two more days to make the most of it…after that, I cannot be sure of anything.

  Norman was on the horns of a dilemma. Should he confront Ogbent about it or should he just act as if nothing had happened? He was sure that there were more secrets the Ogbents had that would make it just that more satisfying to expose and put them out of his house.

  His blood boiled though and it took all his composure to welcome the man back home with a casual greeting. Ogbent did not look bothered in the slightest. Why would he? He had just come from a gaming parlor and reeked of whiskey and cigar smoke.

  “Horenwall,” the man chortled, “thank you for giving me a wonderful night, my son.”

  I am not your son.

  “I’m glad you had a good time,” Norman said while ushering him into his study to give him a glass of water, “Who did you meet?”

  Listening to the man ramble on about Earl this or Baron that, he wondered if why the man, clearly having remorse for Mary, had not even tried to make things right. How could it be that eight years had passed and not even once in those eight years had he tried to find Rosaline?

  I bet his wife forced him to not act.

  The Duke’s sense of righteousness was appalled and sickened at the man’s cowardly behavior. Briefly, he wondered if the man had been bewitched.

  “I think it time for you get some rest, Ogbent,” Norman added. “You’ve clearly had a long night.”

  “Yes, yes,” he nodded. “it was wonderful…if you don’t mind, I’d like to go back tomorrow. You know, exercising all the free time I have and all that.”

  “That is not a problem,” Norman said with personal satisfaction, the more he could get the man out of his hair, the better. “Do you need help going to your room or can you manage?”

  “I may be old, Horenwall, but I can take care of myself,” Lord Ogbent nodded, “Good night to you.”

  “And you,” Norman added.

  Settling back into his chair, Norman knew that this report on the Ogbents was not much to get rid of them, but he felt, intensely felt, that there was much more to come. “What more will
the next twelve days reveal?”

  The Sydney Gardens, Bath, England

  The rhythmic clods of the two dapper grey horses was heard as they slowly drove drew the black landau where Duchess Horenwall, Lady Ogbent, and Miss Fawcett were seated through the promenade.

  Amanda Fawcett, the Viscountess of Ogbent, fluttered her fan while the driver found a cool spot to park which was under the thick boughs of a flowering maple tree. Her eyes flitted over to Duchess Horenwall and then to Isabella, who was looking angelic with her golden hair coiffed so perfectly and her dark blue dress.

  The two were talking about the festivities they were going to see that night, mainly the fireworks as luckily, they had come on the birthday of George the third.

  “They weren’t many fireworks back home,” Isabella pouted, “no one dared to fire them for fear of the authorities. It is good to know that that there are rebels in this part of England.”

  “Well, we will be seeing them tonight,” the Duchess Horenwall smiled, “Oh look, a cart of flavored ice, do you care to have one dear?”

  “I’d be delighted. A cube of strawberry ice, please.”

  “Lady Ogbent?”

  “None for me, thank you,” Amanda replied, “I have a finicky stomach for ices.”

  While the Duchess ordered muscadine ice for herself and sent the driver to get them their sweets. They remained sitting in the open-air chatting. When they received the treats, Amanda kept a close eye on Isabella, knowing that she had a penchant to overdo it on sweets.

  “Miss Fawcett, have you decided on having breakfast here?” the Duchess asked, “they have tea, coffee, and Sally Lunn buns.”

  Isabella’s nose wrinkled as she spooned up more ice, “I don’t care for coffee.”

  “Me neither but it is the choice drug of men,” the Duchess of Horenwall sniffed, “Norman swears by it, but I cannot abide it. Its smell is vile.”

  “When we get married, he will only drink tea,” Isabella pronounced haughtily. “Father used to drink coffee until his stomach developed an ulcer. Mother had the common sense to make him stop and drink milk tea instead.”

  The Duchess’ head tilted, “You will have a hard job of it, my dear. Norman can be as stubborn as a mule.”

  “I have my ways of persuasion,” Isabella smiled.

  “Of course, you do,” the Duchess’ smile was knowing as she inclined her head.

  While the Duchess looked away, Lady Ogbent met her daughter’s eyes and leveled a warning look at her to not push her luck too far. To her ire, Isabella just tossed her head and looked away, ignoring her with an impish attitude.

  Speaking of luck, she briefly wondered about her husband back at home. She hoped he had made more steps with Horenwall to reduce the month to something far less. If her husband had any merit he would have done so and they would arrive back at the mansion ready to get Isabella married off.

  Her daughter was such a beautiful woman, blessed in all her accomplishments, graceful in all her deeds, and brilliant in her education. When Isabella had seen the Duke of Horenwall years ago she had demanded to get married to him.

  At that time Amanda had not seen a way to do so, but with Isabella’s strident demands, they had made a way. Richard had gone to London many times to seek out the Duke but had never found him in any of the parlors or gentlemen’s clubs.

  It was only by happenstance, and a good happenstance, that he had overheard a matron saying that Duchess Horenwall was seeking a wife for her son. They had put in their application that very night and now, they were in the carriage with the lady herself.

  “Mother?”

  Amanda focused on the two ladies and smiled tightly, “Forgive me, I was woolgathering. What is it?”

  “Her Grace was saying it is nearly noon and the breakfast parlor is about to be opened,” Isabella said, “We were deliberating going there or another place in town. Mark you, the one here is a public dining.”

  “Where all the other people would be?” Amanda said aghast, “Mercy no, Isabella has such a frail condition that any ailment from the unwashed public might take her. There must be another place.”

  The Duchess was unperturbed. “I assumed as much, to the town then, driver.”

  While the carriage rolled off, Amanda’s mind turned to the last issue—that woman, the seamstress, Miss Hall. There was something uncanny about her, which was why she had sent off a request to an investigator she knew. She needed to know why the woman looked so familiar, and by the time she got back to Horenwall, she would know.

  There was nothing she would not do to protect her family and if she had to kill by proxy again, so be it.

  “Chocolates?”

  “Do you think I am that pedestrian?” the Duke said while acting offended, “Not just chocolates—here we have truffles, chocolate disks, nonpareils, and Madame Bellemont’s famous nougat.”

  “You’re spoiling me,” Rosaline blushed.

  “You deserve to be spoiled,” he said with his cheek balanced on his fist.

  It was the second night, and Lord Ogbent was, once again, out at the gentleman’s club. They had taken care about going to the study, knowing that there could be a scandal if they were seen by those who, even not intentionally seeking trouble, could report them.

  Rosaline opened the box and spun it around, “Share it with me.”

  “I am not particular to sweets.”

  “And I will not touch one until you eat one with me,” Rosaline demanded. “And believe me, I will act on my word.”

  The Duke rolled his eyes, “Rosaline, you are the most—”

  “‘— most stubborn and infuriating creature you have ever met,’” Rosaline quoted, “I know, but that does not change my stance.”

  Huffing out a breath, Norman picked up a nonpareil and bit into it. His face twisted with distaste as the sweet dissolved and his expression of revulsion made Rosaline giggle. “I wish I could paint the look on your face.”

  “You dare laugh at me, Miss Hall?”

  “I dare, Your Grace,” she snickered and bit delicately into a candy. “Oh, this is sublime.”

  Dusting off his fingers, the Duke snorted, “Of course it is, you are a woman after all. These treats are made for your gender.”

  Finishing off the candy, Rosaline took up a truffle and handed it to him. Taking the sweet from her, Norman sat it back in the box and kissed her fingertips.

  Her hand twisted and her fingers ran over the scar on his chin, “I saw this on the first day I met you…what hurt you?”

  “It is not fitting for a man of my stature, but that mark was earned from a boxing match between me and Lord Belthyne,” Norman sighed, “Rosaline, I do not want to hurt you by dredging up this horrible memory, but I know the reason why you hesitated that morning when my mother asked you to make Miss Fawcett’s dress.”

  No, she prayed, please no.

  “I know that the Ogbent’s had something do with your sister’s death,” he finished.

  Instantly, Rosaline felt cold and slowly pulled her hand out of his hold. Her head bowed and her fingers clutched at her skirts. “I am sorry…I thought if you knew at first, I wouldn’t get the chance to find out what happened to her.”

  “I am not angry are you, Rosaline,” the Duke assured her.

  “I was only twelve when she passed. All my life, I did not know why she had to die,” Rosaline said tightly, “I did not even get see her before she was buried. I don’t even know where she is buried…I loved my sister. The only thing I knew was that she had been with a family known as Ogbent. I had no idea that I would ever meet the family, but now…even where I am and meeting them, I still do not know why she died. I know how, but not why.”

  “And it would look very suspicious if you just asked,” he added. “It would look questionable even if I did.”

  Rosaline dared to meet the Duke’s eyes, “That said, when you told me about Lord Ogbent having an affair with Mary…I was devastated. I know that Mary would not have been foolish enough
to have an affair with Lord Ogbent right under Lady Ogbent’s nose, I was forced to rethink what I thought I knew about my sister. I know she would have never done something like that.”

  “Rosaline, I am going to play the Devil’s advocate here,” the Duke said evenly, “Though I am sure you have faith in your sister, there is a chance that she could have changed. Many people do not stay the same as they grow.”

  “I know that,” she sighed and pushed away from her chair. She felt his eyes on her as she went to a window and stared out into the deep blackness of the night. The bleakness that she looked into was the same shade of her uncertainty about Mary. “I know that but I have to have some faith in what I believe, and I know she would not do such a shameful thing.”