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

by Emma Linfield

  “She fell. She flew off the horse, backwards and somersaulted in midair. She…she was upside down when she hit the ground, her head was…her neck just—” He winced and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.

  “It is all right, Oliver. You do not need to tell me more. I understand perfectly what happened.”

  Ignoring her words, he carried on. “I carried her home. I picked up her mangled body and carried her through the rain to our house. I can see it now. Me lifting her. Her body, so small and light in my arms, as we walked through the rain toward the house.”

  He squinted as if there was something else, but then he shook his head. “That is all. I killed my sister.” He looked at her with a sudden realization in his eyes. “You were wrong, you see? I am not a good person. Perhaps it would have been for the best if the archer had reached me. Perhaps…”

  He rose and took two steps toward the edge of the tree house, stopping right in the opening which led to the ladder.

  “Oliver!” Seraphina called but he did not listen.

  “You took my life, my identity, and my name. And you returned to me only the very worst of my memories, to suffer all the more. You must wish to punish me. Well, I am here…strike me down!”

  He stood, exposed to the punishing rain which had once again picked up and opened his arms. His face turned to the sky, waiting for a bolt of lightning to do him in.

  If not the lightning, then the archer might get him. He is so consumed in his sudden wave of grief that he will get himself killed.

  Chapter 26

  As the storm gained its second wind, bolts of lightning flashed, followed immediately by thunder. Her heart raced as she watched him stand, illuminated by the lighting. Rain whipped his face and body. Within moments he was drenched.

  Up above, she saw that the branches of the huge, old linden tree were swaying precariously in the wind. One, just above Oliver, gave a loud creaking sound as if it were readying itself to break off. If it did, he would surely be thrown off the tree house entirely.

  I must save him, even if from himself.

  As another gust of wind blew in their direction as she heard the telltale sound of a branch coming loose. She pushed away the table which had sheltered her and rushed toward Oliver. She wrapped her arms around him and yanked him backwards, causing them both to lose their footing and crash to the floor behind them.

  He grunted and then, a moment later, the mighty branch separated from the tree and crashed onto the tree house, tumbling past where Oliver had just been standing.

  They both watched, eyes wide and heard the mighty crash as the branch hit the ground.

  He looked at her, his face pale.

  “You saved me.”

  “Because I love you,” she said without hesitation.

  Realizing the words she’d just spoken, she clasped her hand in front of her mouth, but then thought better of it. “I do. I love you. And I cannot stand by and watch you destroy yourself over an old memory. Over an event that happened long ago. If you had your memories, if you remembered your life, you might find that you long ago made your peace with what happened. That you recovered. That you already realized you were never at fault. Until you can remember that, I will be here to keep you safe. Even if it’s from yourself.”

  A weak smile graced his lips while his eyes softened. He placed a hand on her cheek.

  “Seraphina Camden, you truly are an angel. I love you.”

  She bent down toward him as he raised his other hand and gently pulled her face to his, placing his lips on hers as the storm raged behind them.

  Oliver woke to the chirping of birds and opened his eyes to find the sky once again blue, the dark clouds but a memory. He inhaled the fresh air as he once again recalled the images that had made him almost give up.

  Henrietta. His sister. He knew her. Even if she was all he knew, it was at least something.

  The memory of her had crushed him and he’d almost hoped it would vanish once more. Too painful were the pictures of her he saw before his mind’s eye. Too raw was the pain that he could not remember working through. The only person on this earth he could remember form his old life and she was gone. Because of him.

  He’d hoped lightning might strike him when he’d stood at the edge of the tree house. Hoped the tree branch which had swayed so precariously had fallen and crushed him. Yet neither of these things had happened.

  No, not at all.

  She saved me from the lighting, the branch, and myself. Seraphina–

  She stirred in his arms where she’d fallen asleep after they’d talked. It appeared that with his arms around her, she was not quite as frightened of the lightning as she otherwise might have been. They’d watched the rain, hidden behind the overturned table. And covered with the tailcoat until the exhaustion of the day had taken them away.

  “Well, Excalibur,” she grinned at him as she woke. “Have you had a good rest?”

  He kissed her forehead. “I have, and look…the weather has passed.”

  She sat and glanced up at the sky, relief apparent on her face. “Are you feeling better now than you did?”

  He shrugged. “I wish I knew more of what occurred and what happened since she passed. I wish I could feel relief or know if I ever found it. There are so many questions. Who is my family? Are they searching for me? Do I have a mother who is going out of her mind with worry, having already lost a child? Or are they glad I am gone? Do I have any living family at all?”

  She patted his arm. “It must be so terrible not to know. But now that you have recovered a complete memory and you know you had a sister, there is hope. Either you will recover more of your memories or we can use the information to seek out who you are. My Father can…”

  Her head twisted around to face him. “Oliver…I was to meet my family for breakfast. It must be long past now.”

  He realized with horror that they had spent much more time than planned away from the home.

  “George will be looking for me as well. We must return. By Jove…your Father must be furious by now.”

  “Of course, we must go at once. We must find out the time if we can.” He stood and pulled her up. The moment she was upright, a pain coursed through her leg, from her ankle all the way to her thigh. She leaned on him as not to fall over.

  “I am not certain you can walk home. You are injured. Perhaps I could—”

  “I can walk. It hurts, but I can walk.” She rose and hobbled toward where the ladder had been placed after they ascended the tree house. She dropped it down and then looked at him. “I will climb down, and we can make our way back. I shall speak to George, he won’t be upset with you when he hears that you were by my side, and what my parents have done.”

  Suddenly, her nostrils flared once more and she shook her head, hands balled into fists.

  “I shall go to them at once and confront them. This is outrageous. I could have been killed right alongside you for their foolish attempts to keep us apart and to scare you.”

  He chewed his lip. Her passion always made him grow even more fond of her. Her willingness to fight for him and what was blossoming between them made his heart swell with love.

  “I am still not certain that is who was after us, but —”

  She cut him off. “It was, I am certain. And I will put a stop to it all.”

  He watched as she sat down and turned, placing her feet onto the ladder. A wince told him that her ankle still hurt her.

  I know better than to comment further. If she wishes to carry on and walk on her own, who am I to stop her?

  He watched as she made her way down the ladder, holding it as steady as he could from his end. When she was down, he followed. The ground was muddy, and her shoes quickly were caked with dirt. However, she did not seem to care.

  They walked slowly toward the Castle, staying off the main road as much as they could. She hobbled most of the way but did not complain once. Instead, she planned out loud just what she would say to her parents once s
he returned to the Castle.

  Oliver remained silent for much of the walk. His thoughts were repeatedly drawn back to the memory of Henrietta. The day was so clear in his mind. The memory so vivid. He forced himself to think back at it, to try and remember more. It was there but buried in the back of his mind.

  “…Bath, perhaps it is lovely there,” he heard Seraphina say and turned to her.

  “I am sorry, I did not hear you. I was lost in thought.”

  “I said, if it goes badly with my parents, perhaps we can run away. We can go to Bath. It is lovely there. I have jewelry we can sell to make a living and perhaps you can find employment as a coachman. I can be a governess or care for animals. I…” a darkness descended upon her face, “we will need to take Mobsley with us. I cannot go anywhere without Mobsley.”

  Oliver looked at her, his heart almost melted. In that moment, she looked like a child: her face, so stern and serious, appeared innocent and childlike. The plans she was making were, of course, not feasible. He knew as much.

  She must know in her heart that we cannot simply run away. They would come for her and find her. And likely jail me.

  He reached his free hand out to her and clasped it while still supporting her as they walked.

  “Whit’s fur ye’ll no go past ye,” he simply said, as if that answered all of their worries. It did make her smile, which was at least something.

  “If it’s meant for you it will come to you? George told you that, didn’t he? He once told me the same.”

  He nodded and they continued to walk until they were at the road. She stopped and turned to him.

  “Let me go ahead. I will go through the stable yard and see if Fornsham is available to drive me to the Castle in the carriage. I will also let George know that you are on your way.”

  They clasped hands while still hidden behind the trees.

  “How will I know what happens?” Oliver asked, concern of the impending confrontation growing inside of him.

  “I will send word. With Cynthia, perhaps. She is ever so loyal.” Then, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek before turning and making her way across the road.

  Oliver waited until Seraphina was gone and then followed at a distance. He spotted her, leaning against a fence up ahead. She had one foot raised to relieve the pressure on the ankle. Every fiber of him wanted to rush to her, scoop her up and carry her the rest of the way. He knew it wasn’t an option. They could not be seen together, not yet. No, Seraphina was strong and independent. Much more so than what was acceptable for a lady in their society. And yet, it was just that…her strong will, along with many other attributes, that attracted him to her so.

  After a short while, she carried on hobbling down the road and then disappeared from sight at the stable yard.

  Oliver sighed and decided to take a moment for himself. He sat, with his back against a fence. The entire time he had been walking, images had forced their way into the forefront of his memory, yet they were too blurry, too vague to grasp.

  He closed his eyes and recalled the moment after Henrietta had fallen off the horse, how had he gathered her in his arms and walked her toward the house. He ignored the feeling of despair and pushed away the guilt that wanted to distort the images.

  I carried her in my arms toward the house. The house, it’s a manor. It is right there. I can almost see it.

  He focused and found himself recalling more of the day. He’d stepped out of the forest with his sister and ran toward the house. A tall, lanky boy ran toward them. He had floppy blond hair. He’d taken the child from Oliver’s arms, gently walking her toward the house.

  He’d stopped, frozen and overcome by the terror he’d had to push away in order to carry his sister toward assistance. There was a gap then, a moment of blackness. Then, a carriage. It was in front of him. A man and a woman, older. Their faces distraught as they boarded a carriage with Henrietta on the woman’s lap. The door to the carriage slammed shut and there–

  He jumped up.

  “I know that Coat of Arms. I have seen something much like it before.”

  He looked at the Castle. Yes. In the portrait he’d seen in the Duke of Oxshire’s library. The portrait of the two men. Seraphina’s great-grandfather and his friend. Their coats of arms had been on the picture frame.

  Without another thought, he rushed toward the Castle.

  Chapter 27

  Liam unfolded the letter and read quietly to himself. His hand rose to his chin and he scratched the stubble that was quickly growing. He did not trust his cousin’s valet to shave him. No, only his own valet, Henricks, was allowed to do so and he was back home.

  “What is it? What does it say?” Harry’s voice sounded distant, so focused was he on the words on the paper. At last, he let his arm drop and faced his cousin.

  “Where is your Mother?”

  Harry shrugged. “She is in her drawing room, why?”

  “I believe she ought to hear this as well.” Liam strode out of the room, followed by Harry who rushed to catch up with him.

  “What, what is in the letter? Who is it from?”

  Liam did not stop walking but made his way down one floor to his Aunt’s private chambers where she kept a small drawing room, separate from the large one on the ground floor.

  “It is from Samuel Orwell, my friend in Crewe. There may be a sighting of Lysander,” he paused before adding “on the estate of the Duke of Oxshire.”

  Harry stopped and grabbed Liam’s elbow.

  “Please, do not alarm my Mother with a letter that has no merit. I told you, Lysander would never set foot in Cheshire. And most certainly not on the property of the Camdens.”

  “Is it not for her to decide if she wants to be told this news? She has had no word from Lysander in almost two weeks, and now there is a lead…”

  “A lead that will turn out to be a dead end. Lysander isn’t in Cheshire. It is not possible. My Mother does not need to be alarmed by…”

  “Alarmed by what?” Lady Emberborough stepped out of her drawing room and faced them. To Liam’s relief, she appeared to be in her right frame of mind. She wore one of her pretty dresses which complimented her thin shape.

  “Your Grace, I’ve had a letter from one of my contacts. It may be of use for us.”

  “Mother, do not listen to him. The contact claims Lysander may be at the Duke of Oxshire’s estate. Preposterous.”

  His aunt frowned and looked from Liam to Harry and back.

  “It may well be, but I still wish to hear more. Come,” she motioned for them both to step into her drawing room.

  Harry glared at Liam and hissed, “If this upsets her, I will have you removed from this house, I swear it.”

  Liam shrugged, for he had a feeling he’d not be spending much more time at the home of his cousin in any case. Even if this was a dead end, he had to return to Yorkshire and attend to his family.

  They stepped into his aunt’s private drawing room and his breath caught in his chest. He’d forgotten that she had turned this room into a memorial of his cousin, Henrietta.

  The little girl had died almost eight years ago now. A terrible riding accident which had shattered Lysander, as he had been the one to accompany the little girl on her daily ride. Liam knew his cousin had blamed himself. It had taken years for him to fully recover, and even now he still bore the scars of the trauma.

  By Jove, Lysander, you never did tell me your Mother had erected a shrine for Henrietta. No wonder you struggled with her death for so long.

  He looked around the room. Paintings of the young girl at various stages of her short life graced the walls. He counted five oil paintings of her by herself as well as several of her with the family.

  Liam shuddered when his gaze fell to two portraits which hung to the far left, near the fireplace. They were of Henrietta, albeit grown. One showed her dressed in a ball gown and the other in what had to be wedding-day attire.

  Noticing his gaze, his aunt smiled at him.

 
“Aren’t they adorable? I had them commissioned some years ago. Maurice DePalier did them, using portraits of Henrietta as a child and one of myself on my wedding day. They give me such comfort. Heavens, to see my little girl as she would look now.”

  The smile on her face was so entranced it was disturbing. However, Liam simple nodded.

  “Lovely, indeed,” he said.

  “Morbid, you mean,” Harry whispered behind him. For a moment, the cousins shared a bond over their horror of the portraits, but it soon vanished.

  “Now, the letter?” His aunt took her seat on the chaise lounge again but did not invite either of them to sit.