Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hamilton, Hanna

  She shrugged. “That is my name, is it not?”

  “You know very well that they would presume you to be a man, if you wrote to them in such a manner.”

  “And if I were to write to them as I am, as a woman, do you honestly believe that they would consider me? I have been here before, my Lord Marquess. I was veritably laughed into submission by their previous responses.” She stood her ground, wishing the pain would subside. Her brow was drenched in sweat already. “A small lie would do nobody any harm, yet it would provide me with a great deal of opportunity. Do you know how many proverbial doors have been slammed in my face, my Lord?”

  Her words seemed to silence him.

  “Well, let me tell you. Every door.”

  “That does not excuse these unlawful actions, Henrietta.”

  “Does it not? Tell me how it does not?”

  He cleared his throat. “You cannot lie and deceive your way into the position you dream about. If they had accepted you, what would you have done then?”

  “I would have gone to study.”

  “My goodness, you are a child if you believe that to be true. As soon as you arrived, they would have turned you away.”

  “You cannot know that.”

  “I do, My Lady.” He brushed a hand through his hair. “You would have brought such shame upon us both, if they had discovered the truth. I doubt they would have been courteous enough to remain silent on the matter.”

  Henrietta felt anger rising through her. He had sworn that he would not be her gaoler, so why was he behaving as though he was? You are no better than my father if you think this way. Seen and not heard, is that how you would prefer me? The words did not leave her lips, but they burned through her mind like venom.

  “You said you did not care for the judgement of others.”

  “I care for both our sakes, since you seem inclined to stake both our reputations on this ill-conceived endeavor.”

  The ache in her side increased, prompting her to sag back down onto the edge of the bed. Only then did Ewan show an iota of concern, after what had just happened with the horse. He moved towards her, but she lifted her hand to wave him away.

  “Do not attempt to worry for me now, My Lord Marquess. I see your mind is already elsewhere—on reputation and scorn, rather than the wellbeing of your wife.”

  He sighed. “My Lady, you mustn’t say things like that. Of course, I care. I did get somewhat distracted, I will admit, but that does not mean I do not care.” He eyed her closely. “Is something the matter? Are you injured after all?”

  “A slight bruising of the ribs,” she replied sullenly.

  “Can I help in any way? Fetch you some cake, perhaps, to take your mind off it?” This time, when he moved towards her, she did not gesture for him to keep his distance.

  “This is no time for cake,” she said sourly. “I cannot understand your anger in this, my Lord Marquess. Either you think my dreams to be foolish, or you have been lying to me this entire time, making me believe that you did not think them silly endeavors.”

  Ewan knelt before her and took her hands in his. “You must understand the consequences of your actions, that is all. I believe in your desire to become an excellent physician, but there are many challenges ahead of you. Being deceitful is not the way to go about things.”

  “How did you get hold of my letters in the first place?” she asked, realizing they ought to be most of the way to London by now. Her mind dwelled for a moment upon the warning she had received. Someone is watching us. This has Seth written all over it.

  “Mr. Chambers handed them to me downstairs,” he explained. “He told me that they had been sent back to this address, as he had bungled the postage.”

  Henrietta shook her head slowly, her chest gripping in fear. “No… that is impossible. I wrote the address on them exceedingly clear, and I ensured that the postage was correct before putting them in the post box.”

  “You must be mistaken.”

  “I am not mistaken! See, there you go again, disbelieving my every word,” she muttered. “Do you honestly think I would allow letters as precious as these to be sent away without the correct postage? These meant everything to me.”

  He tilted his head in thought. “No, I suppose you would not.”

  “This is Mr. Booth’s doing, I am certain of it. He would have me suffer for causing his dismissal. He would see my dreams in tatters, because he is a hateful creature. Indeed, as you know, he always deemed me inferior to him, though we belong to two separate worlds.”

  “Why would he do such a thing? After your previous explanation of him, I can understand why such a spiteful little man would seek retaliation, but why would he seek to take your letters?”

  Henrietta took a breath. She could not keep the note from Ewan any longer.

  “If I tell you something, you must promise not to go to Lord Averson. You must allow Mr. Booth to continue in Lord Averson’s employ, for that is the only way that we will be able to keep a watchful eye upon him.”

  Ewan frowned. “I promise.”

  Leaning over with some difficulty, Henrietta removed the crumpled note from the top drawer of her bedside cabinet and smoothed it on her lap. The words stared up at her like barbs, each one stinging deeply:

  My dear Lady,

  It has come to my attention that you have renewed your interest in medical school. If you do not wish some harm to come to you, please withdraw said applications immediately. Also, do be careful. I am watching you.

  Sincerest regards,

  A Friend

  Even now, the note made her hands shake and her heart race. This ‘friend’ spelled untold dangers. He had already attempted to crush her beneath a falling block of masonry. If he was so set on retaliation, she could only wonder what his next move might be. The gunshots? What if they were not mere coincidence? What if those shots had not come from the nearby hunters, but from the hand that wrote these words? She shook off the dark feeling, realizing she was likely being paranoid after the events of the day.

  “What is that?” Ewan asked pointedly. “Another letter you have been hiding from me?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. I did not wish to worry you.”

  Ewan’s frown deepened. “Why would it worry me? What does it say?”

  Henrietta handed him the note and waited as he read it. A myriad of different emotions crossed his handsome features as his eyes flitted from left to right.

  “You believe Mr. Booth was the one who sent this to you?” he asked, his voice racked with anger.

  “I can think of no other who would hold such a vendetta against me, or who would know of the letters to the medical institutions. As they have found their way back to me—or rather, you—I should say that all suspicion has to point to him.”

  He nodded. “I am inclined to agree with you. You are clever to have made me promise not to do anything before the fact, for I have a sudden urge to ride over to Lord Averson’s residence this instant and strangle the life out of the insipid wretch.”

  “You must not,” she urged.

  “You have made me promise. As such, I will not make any move to strike Mr. Booth down. However, you must allow me to visit with Lord Averson, to keep an eye upon this villain myself.”

  Henrietta frowned. “How would you do such a thing?”

  Ewan gave a curious smile. “We must entrap him.”

  “And my letters to the medical institutions? What are we to do with those?”

  “If I catch sight of another one of these, deceitfully written by your hand, I will write to the institutions myself and tell them the truth.”

  Chapter 23

  That afternoon, Ewan left Henrietta to rest in her chambers and set off for Lord Averson’s residence. He did not want to put his wife in a box, but he could not quite forgive her for her recent audacity. Not yet, anyway. She would have to learn that she could not simply use his name in order to achieve her dreams, nor could she lie her way into such a position. />
  In truth, the discovery of the letters had made him question just how much he believed in her future hopes. Could a woman really ever become a physician? Even if she managed to gain a place at one of these institutions, would they ever take her seriously? He could not think of a single gentleman in his acquaintanceship who would be healed by a woman.

  Perhaps, I am not as liberal as I made her believe.

  He wanted her to have what she desired from life, but maybe seeking to become a physician was a step too far—a hurdle that not even Henrietta could overcome. Then again, if anyone were to prove the old goats at these institutions wrong, it would be my wife. She has already proven to be rather formidable and endlessly determined. He thought about her sitting in the dining hall in the ruined bridal gown and smiled at the memory.

  He pulled up outside the Averson residence twenty minutes later, and walked up to the door. The butler answered, instructing him to wait in the drawing room as Lord Averson was fetched.

  Through a sliver of a gap in the doorway to the drawing room, Ewan caught sight of Mr. Booth walking across the entrance hall. The very sight of him made Ewan’s blood boil. No man threatens my wife. No man.

  “Ewan, my dear man, what brings you to my abode on this gloomy afternoon?” Lord Averson strode into the room. He looked tired with vivid dark circles beneath his eyes.

  “Averson,” Ewan replied. “I thought I’d drop in on you, as I have a few amendments to make to our previous conversation. I see you have yet to rid your household of Mr. Booth?”

  Lord Averson pulled a face. “In truth, I do so despise confrontation. I thought I would wait a few days before ridding myself of the man. We’re due to return to town at the end of next week—I saw no reason to release him prior to that. I hope you will forgive me?”

  “Actually, I came to request that you keep him in your employ a while longer.”

  “Has there been some change of heart? Were you mistaken?”

  “Sadly not, although there have been some circumstantial alterations.”

  “Oh? Pray tell.”

  Ewan shook his head. “I am afraid I cannot. Indeed, I was wondering if I might have a word with him myself to try and clarify the situation.”

  “Why, certainly.”

  “I am sorry, Averson, you must think me terribly rude. Are you well? Are you suffering any continuing ailments?” Ewan said, realizing he had not mentioned the poor fellow’s prior trauma. Had it not been for Averson’s quick thinking, Henrietta could well have been crushed by the falling masonry. He owed him a great debt of gratitude.

  Lord Averson flashed a boyish grin. “I may not be as spry as I once was, but I do have a certain resilience. I am as you see me—a little fatigued, but no less worse-for-wear. It was something of a shock to the system, but I am recovering. And your wife?”

  “The incident outside the theater does not continue to trouble her, which is one small consolation in all of this bedlam,” he said. “Tell me something, Averson—where was your man around noon today?”

  Lord Averson frowned deeply. “Do you know… I cannot tell you. I would have to speak with the rest of the household, though I do not know if he was here, not for certain. Might I fetch him in, so you may ask him yourself?”

  “Yes, if you would be so kind,” Ewan replied. “In the meantime, might you do that for me, and ask your household about his whereabouts today?”

  “Of course, my good man. Do you fear foul play?”

  “I cannot be certain.”

  A dark thought had occurred to Ewan as he had helped his wife back to the Old Bell. The gunshots going off when they had, and so close, had been rather coincidental. Almost too coincidental. Indeed, the worry had set in more insistently on the journey over to Averson’s house. He did not like to admit it, but the entire incident with the horse smarted of a plot. A well-schemed one, made to look like an accident.

  But who was the target?

  The note suggested Henrietta, but Ewan was starting to wonder if he was part of the bigger picture, another target with which to make Henrietta suffer. After all, very few people knew that he and Henrietta were now living in a curious sort of harmony. One of those, someone close to insider knowledge, was Mr. Booth. If he now knew that Henrietta stood to lose something if anything happened to Ewan, then he would utilize that.

  It makes perfect sense. Mr. Booth will have heard the news of our unexpected contentment from Averson, thus putting my name on the proverbial strike-list. Against all odds, it would appear I have become something that Henrietta would find painful to lose. The evil cretin must have known. Either that, or he intended to wound Henrietta, and ended up spooking the horse instead. Whichever truth turned out to be the real one, neither avenue made Ewan feel particularly good. Each one put Henrietta in harm’s way and he would not permit that.

  * * *

  Henrietta paced her chambers in exasperation. Her side ached but that was not what troubled her. Instead, she thought about Ewan and the way he had dismissed her in such a cold manner. He had demanded she stay behind whilst he went to visit Lord Averson, and she had decided to bear a grudge against him until a suitable apology was made.

  I may be waiting an extraordinarily long time.

  What irked her the most was the superior way in which he had chastised her for her actions, making her feel small and foolish. Had she not gained the right to utilize his name after they had made their marriage vows? Was that not a small price to pay for being forced into a union she had not asked for?

  Yes, I may like him well enough now in my own way, but it may not have turned out this way. What if he and I had detested one another? What then?

  With stubborn determination, she crossed the room to the desk on the far side and sat down. Fresh vellum and ink had been laid out by the chambermaids. Picking up one of the newly-carved quills, she dipped the nib into the inkwell and laid it to the thick, cream paper.

  “You will not instruct me upon what I can and cannot do,” she muttered bitterly as she began to write. Ewan had thrown the remaining letters into the fire, to ensure she did not simply attempt to post them again. Not that such an action will do anything to stop me.

  In her impeccable hand, she repeated the sentiments she had previously included in the letters that had been cast into the flames. The words flowed smoothly onto the page, like well-remembered acquaintances. However, as she reached the end of the first piece of correspondence, she paused. A small dot of ink began to spread out beneath the nib.

  H. Oliver Clark, that is all you need to write. They will not know if you are a gentleman or a lady. It is exceedingly simple. Come on, Henrietta, you must write it.

  And yet, she could not. Deep down, a part of her knew that Ewan was right. If she wanted to become a physician, then she was going to have to do it under her own steam. It would not be easy, and she understood that she would continue to face rejection, but it had to be on her terms. Otherwise, it would seem a hollow victory in the future. If you succeed at all in your endeavors, that is.

  Slowly, she finished the letter: Lady Henrietta Oliver, Marchioness of Peterborough.

  “Is this what you would have me do, Lord Marquess?” she said aloud, though he was not there to hear her. “Will this cause less damage to your reputation, once these letters are read?”

  Somehow, she doubted it.

  Once the letters were complete, she picked them up and carried them downstairs to Mr. Chambers. He stood by the postbox, sifting through several stacks of mail that were both incoming and outgoing. Good, I have not missed the afternoon’s post.

  “Ah, Lady Peterborough, what a pleasant surprise,” he said in his kindly manner. “Lord Peterborough said you would remain abed for the rest of the afternoon, and that I was to send your supper to you if he had not returned by then. Are you feeling much better?”

  She smiled. “A great deal better, thank you.”

  “Apologies once again for the mishap with the post. I trust Lord Peterborough delivered th
em to you?”

  “He did. In fact, I looked into the addresses once again and realized that I was mistaken on many of them. I have corrected the problem. As such, if you would be a dear, might you put these out for the afternoon’s post?”

  He looked somewhat sheepish. “Your husband has requested that I hold any letters that you bring to me, Lady Peterborough.”

  “Has he, indeed?” A muscle twitched in her jaw, her teeth gritted in annoyance. How dare he.

  “Yes, My Lady.”