The Trouble with Saving a Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  Chapter 16

  Seraphina sat at the drawing room window and glanced out into the distance. A mixture of dread and excitement filled her belly. Dread at the thought of having to spend the afternoon with Lord Alderbridge again. Excitement at the thought of being able to see Oliver and perhaps help him recover some of his memories.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh air. She’d opened the window a crack, wedging the book she was currently reading, Anderson’s Fairy Tales, underneath to keep it from swinging open all the way. Suddenly, she jumped when someone placed a hand on her back.

  “Faith! Cynthia. You could give one a heart attack.”

  “I am ever so sorry, I thought you heard me. I called out to you.”

  Seraphina shook her head.

  “I did not hear you. I must have been lost in thought.”

  “Thoughts of the spy, I presume,” her sister said with a smirk on her face. She reached up and touched the floral crown Seraphina had placed on her head. She’d made it herself using the sunflowers and lilies Oliver had left for her. “How pretty.”

  “Thank you. I hope he will think so as well.”

  Cynthia sighed and rubbed her sister’s arm.

  “Will who think so?” Their younger sister Mary’s voice sounded out from behind them. They turned and found Mary strutting out into the room, ever the confident, jolly young lady. She tilted her head to one side.

  “Did you make that? It is pretty. I do not think Mama will approve, however. A floral crown is hardly appropriate for meeting Lord Alderbridge. Mark my words.”

  “I do not care what Mama thinks. And I do not care what Lord Alderbridge thinks, either. I wish I did not have to meet him at all.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest, causing Mary to sigh and shake her head.

  “Sera, you are ever so dramatic. Lord Alderbridge might be a little puff-gutted but he’s far from bracket faced. In fact, he’s a handsome fellow and ever so charming. You ought to give him a real chance.”

  “I have,” she sneered, “he took the opportunity to kick Mobsley.”

  Mary rolled her eyes. “Mobsley was underfoot. He always is. You know that. You just don’t like him because he doesn’t have a library that stretches an entire floor in his manor and doesn’t smell like wet dog and horse manure.”

  “The way you defend him and hold up his virtues, maybe you’d like to become Lady Alderbridge yourself. You are welcome to him,” Seraphina teased her sister who, to her surprise, blushed.

  “Mary Camden! You are moon-eyed over Lord Alderbridge, I declare. Admit it!”

  Mary stomped her feet in protest. “Stop it. Do not tease me so, please.” The expression on her face changed from bemused to genuinely upset. Seraphina reached out to her sister and wrapped her arms around her.

  “I am ever so sorry, Mary. I did not know you genuinely liked him. Perhaps I can speak to Papa and…” Mary pushed her away.

  “It is not him that I want. I just want a husband. Someone to love me. You have all these lords lining up to wed you, and I am left all but on the shelf.”

  “You are not on the shelf, Mary,” Cynthia said in a tone that implied she thought her younger sister was being ridiculous.

  “You are one to talk. You are already a known ape-leader. I don’t want to be. I want to make a match with a good husband, but the two of you are giving all of us Camden girls a terrible reputation.”

  “We are giving you a bad reputation? How?” Cynthia challenged her sister.

  “How? You know very well how. You, Miss Prunes and Prisms, won’t wed at all for the sake of the orphans. And you, you don’t know how to swallow your spleen for one moment to make a good impression.”

  Seraphina did not know if she should laugh or be upset. She had to admit, her sister was not entirely wrong. With Cynthia removing herself from the marriage market after courting, and her choosing to snub many of the eligible lords, their reputation among the ton was indeed becoming tainted.

  And yet, here is Mary. Eager to be exactly what the ton believes a young woman should be.

  The truth was, Seraphina knew she would never find a suitable husband among the lords her father tried to match her with. They were simply not like her. They would never understand her. Not the way Oliver did. If only Oliver was a lord, or a rich merchant at least, instead of a poor boy with nothing, not even a name. Him, she would court at once. Him, she would wed without…she shook her head.

  Wed him? What was she thinking? She’d only just met him.

  Before they could continue their argument, their mother made her way into the drawing room.

  Lady Oxshire was dressed once more as though she was ready to attend a ball with Prinny or the Queen. The expression on her face was one of discontent. Her eyebrows were raised so far up that her forehead was in wrinkles, something that she generally avoided at all cost. Her lips were pursed in a manner that let all three girls know they were in trouble.

  “What is all of this bickering?”

  The three sisters looked at one another before Mary spoke up.

  “We fought about Seraphina not wanting to wed Lord Alderbridge.”

  Both Seraphina and Cynthia glared at their sister. It was an unspoken rule among them that no matter what the argument, they would not involve their mother. She was ever judgmental of them and none of them wanted their mother’s wrath on them. Or so it always has been.

  I suppose the urgent want Mary has for a husband has changed her.

  Seraphina felt a sadness over the sudden fracture among their sisterly bond. But there were other, more pressing matters that needed attention. Her mother’s glare at her, for one.

  “Seraphina? I thought you and your Father reached an agreement. You are to take Lord Alderbridge on a walk around the property.”

  “And I will. But as I told Father, that does not mean that I wish to wed him.”

  Her mother closed her eyes and took a sharp breath. “You will need to wed somebody. We cannot have all of our daughters out in society and not one of them wed,” her voice rose, and the words trembled with suppressed anger.

  “Perhaps you should then focus on the daughter that wishes to wed,” she pointed at Mary, who eagerly nodded.

  “You know as well as I that it would look terrible to wed Mary before anyone else. Especially after Cynthia’s unfortunate decision.”

  “Unfortunate? I believe the girls at the Asylum would respectfully disagree with you, Mother,” Cynthia said, her tone clipped in a way that was new to Seraphina’s ears.

  Lady Oxshire closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

  “All this upheaval is giving me a headache. Lottie!” she called out for the housemaid who rushed into the room.

  “Yes, My Lady?”

  “Feverfew tea. At once. And some lavender oil.” She shook her head and stepped to the window. In the distance, Seraphina could see the horses returning from the foxhunt.

  “Your father is returning with Lord Alderbridge. Seraphina. For the sake of my nerves, please be the lady you were raised to be today and show the Marquess an enjoyable afternoon.”

  “You make me sound like a strumpet, Mother,” Seraphina spat the words at her mother who sighed. “Why not have Mary show him a good time?”

  “I do not want to wed Lord Alderbridge!” Mary shrieked. “I just want a husband of my own, not one of your discarded lords.”

  “Mother, please. Tell Papa to find a man for Mary, as she is ever so eager to set her cap on someone. Anyone by the sounds of it,” Seraphina sighed.

  “Not anyone. A lord. A proper noble man. Unlike you, who will settle for the stable boy just because he doesn’t mind you shoveling horse manure? Yes, that’s right. I saw you with him out at the paddock, all but sitting in his lap.”

  Seraphina paled at once and felt her legs growing weak. She glared at her sister who was red in the face with rage.

  The expression of panic in Seraphina’s eyes seemed to pierce through her sister’s anger
for she slapped her hand in front of her mouth. It was too late.

  Lady Oxshire had already turned to them.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing, Mama. I had my bristles up. You know I talk too much when I do and…”

  Lady Oxshire waved her hand at her youngest daughter. “Hush, Hush. I know all about your sister sneaking away to frolic among the horses.”

  “You do?” Seraphina could not believe her ears.

  “While you may have George wrapped around your little finger, there are still some servants loyal to me,” she glanced at Lottie who was presently entering the room with a cup of steaming feverfew tea. “Put it down on the side table,” she instructed the girl who could not meet Seraphina’s eyes. “A straw hat and your father’s old breeches are no suitable disguise, in any case. Your Father deemed your adventures in the stable unsuitable, yet harmless and let them go in the hopes it would tame your temper.” She shook her head. “However, now I am hearing about a stable boy?”

  She twirled around to Mary who had her eyes directed toward the marble floor.

  “I believe the hunting party has returned. We ought to greet them,” Cynthia said.

  Ignoring her, Lady Oxshire eyed Mary. “Well?”

  Mary swallowed, her eyes darting from her mother to her sister. “I spoke in haste, Mother. I didn’t mean anything—”

  “Which stable boy did you see your sister with?”

  Mary pressed her lips together and shook her head. The sisterly bond, so recently fractured, would not allow her to betray her sister. Not on purpose. Not with a clear head, Seraphina knew as much. But her mother would not let up, she knew this as well.

  “Oliver. She saw me with Oliver at the paddock. He was helping me collect flowers for to make an arrangement,” she pointed at the floral crown on her own head.

  “And Seraphina made me a bouquet to take back to London,” Cynthia threw in.

  Lady Oxshire stood and blinked rapidly. “The boy who claims to have no memory? That is who you spend your time with?”

  Seraphina shrugged. “He needed a friend.”

  “By Jove,” Lady Oxshire spun around toward the window where her husband and Lord Alderbridge were presently dismounting the horses. “A friend…I am more certain now than ever that he is a spy spent by those Keswicks to ruin us. To ruin us, I declare.”

  “Mother,” Seraphina could not help but sound exasperated, “not the Keswick’s again.”

  “You will not see this boy again. I will make sure your Father sends him away from here, do you hear me?”

  “You will not! He has nowhere to go. He doesn’t even know his own name. You cannot be so cruel.”

  Seraphina felt her temper flare and tried to calm herself. She balled her hands into fists, digging her nails into the palms of her hands.

  “I am not cruel. I am concerned for your future, and for your sister’s future. This entire line is already doomed for lack of an heir. I will not allow you all to throw away what little you do have. Not on a stable boy.”

  “He is just my friend, nothing more. I did not want to marry Alderbridge before Oliver showed up and I will not marry him even if you send Oliver away.”

  “You will marry Lord Alderbridge, even if I have to drag you to the altar myself.”

  “Never!” Seraphina’s voice rose to an alarming volume. “I will not. I will live in the poor house before I marry that widgeon.”

  “Seraphina!” Cynthia called out. “The window!”

  Four pairs of eyes turned at once to the window. The book which had kept the window from opening all the way laid on the floor and the window was open far and wide. Carried open by the breeze. And by the expressions on the faces of those below, their words had carried along with it.

  Seraphina flushed with embarrassment and mortification while her mother’s face grew paler still. The excitement of the moment proved too much for Mary who dissolved into tears.

  Cynthia, always strong and steady, wrapped her arms around Mary in comfort. Slowly, Lady Oxshire turned to Seraphina, absolute rage written in her face.

  “I…Mother—”

  “Apologize. Go and apologize at once,” she ordered Seraphina, stretching an arm out and pointing with one thin index finder toward the yard.

  I cannot. I cannot go out there and face these people. I cannot make good on what I’ve said. I’ve ruined it all. Everything is ruined.

  The tears welled up in her eyes and all she could think of to do was to run.

  And run she did. Her feet carried her before she even knew her destination. Before she knew it she was out of the drawing room, her mother’s angry voice calling her name. She rushed past Lottie who stood by the stairs, confusion written across her face. She rushed past the footmen and the housekeeper, until she reached the stairs to the back door.

  There she pushed the door open and at once found herself in the afternoon breeze. She stopped for a moment, playing her hand on her stomach where her corset dug into her ribs. Heaving as she tried to catch her breath, she realized that her face was wet with tears.

  She leaned on the railing, sobbing and gasping for breath when behind her, she heard the voice of her father.

  “Sera, where are you?”

  She could not tell if he was angry, resigned, or simply confused from the tone. His voice was too far away. She wanted to go to him and apologize for the ruckus and the fight with her mother, but she could not. She knew Lord Alderbridge had heard her insulting him. She knew she disappointed her father and betrayed their agreement.

  She’d upset everyone. Lord Alderbridge, her mother, her father, and even her sisters. And most of all, she’d ruined Oliver’s chance of recovering his memories.

  Angry at herself, she started to run again. She ran and ran, farther and farther away from the house until she had left the Castle behind and found herself surrounded by nothing but trees. At last she stopped and sat on the dirty ground.

  What am I to do? Where am I to go?

  She wiped the tears from her face and had just begun to recover her breath when, in the thicket beyond where she could see, a branch snapped. She turned, terrified at who might be out here in the woods with her.

  She shielded her eyes against the sun and her breath stopped as a figure stepped out from behind the trees.

  Chapter 17

  Harry sat alone at his table, downing another pint of ale. He set it down with a bang.

  “Another!” he yelled at the man behind the bar who raised one eyebrow at him.

  “Are you quite certain, Mister Keswick? Surely you can still make the ride home if you have another?” the older innkeeper asked, causing Harry to stand up, leaning heavily on the table as he did.

  “I do not require a chaperone. I am no damsel in distress. I would like another ale on this table. Now. Let the mode of my return to the manor house be my concern.” He sat down and placed both feet on the table, leaning back. “Everything is my concern anyhow.” He crossed his arms and stared out the window.

  He hadn’t spoken to his mother or Liam since he’d overheard their conversation the day before. He’d known that her opinion of him was low, and always had been, but to hear her spell out word for word just what a failure she thought Harry was? It had smarted.

  As he stared out the window, he shook his head. For a short while, just after his brother had gone missing, he’d considered that perhaps, his brother’s absence might be a blessing. That it might give him occasion to prove himself to his mother. He’d hoped to show her that he was capable, to help her see in him what Lysander always saw in him.

  Now it was becoming clear that she’d always see him as a failure.

  Nobody sees value in me but Lysander. Nobody thinks me capable but my Brother, who is now gone. If he never returns it will not matter what I do. Even if I become Duke, nobody will ever respect me as he did.

  To think that, for a brief moment, he’d considered his brother’s absence a blessing. How wrong he’d been. At least with Lys
ander there, their mother was not quite as cruel to Harry as she was now.

  He was growing ever hopeless. What was the point of proving himself when everybody but Lysander thought him a failure? Why even try?

  “You are Harry Keswick, are you not?”

  A voice called out. Harry turned to face her and found his mood instantly improved. A young woman stood before him. She was a lovely looking woman of fair skin and dark hair which hung loose over her blue dress. He noticed that the hem of the dress was worn and there was a rip in the pelisse she wore on top of it. Still, her pretty face made up for the poor state of her dress.