“Is the rest of your family in residence as well?”
Did he think she resided here alone, with only the servants as protection––making her easy prey? Again she considered evading his question and running but caught herself. Stop it. There’s nothing to be afraid of from the earl. Gossip is only gossip, and not reliable. She, more than anyone else, should know this. He has not hurt anyone. And, certainly, he is not here to hurt her. When her inner voice stopped, she answered the earl. “My brother, Lord Sebastian, is here as well.”
“I’ve not had the privilege of making his acquaintance. Mayhap someday I will.”
Did Amelia’s ears deceive her, or did she hear loneliness in his voice? She understood pain––the kind she had already glimpsed in his eyes. She knew loneliness as well. These two were her constant companions.
If what she saw reflected in his eyes were true, then she and her neighbor had much in common. “Perhaps someday soon you will meet him.” She looked down at her hands, still gripping her soggy boots and stockings. Others would be shocked to see her standing there in her bare feet, talking to Lord Bridgeton. She was not. Too much had happened to her in the past year and a half for her to worry about something as silly as being caught barefoot in public.
She curtsied. “Good day to you, Lord Bridgeton.” Even before she heard his reply she hurried along the bank of the stream toward home, looking for the safety of the walls of Stony Cross Manor.
“Do not look back. Do not look back,” Amelia mumbled to herself. The words didn’t convince her because, despite them, she glanced over her shoulder and saw him in the distance standing at the water’s edge. That he stood there watching her was unsettling. She would not acknowledge that her sudden breathlessness had anything to do with him.
Running. She had practically been running. That was the reason she could not catch her breath. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Lord Bridgeton and his wounded eyes pierced straight to her soul.
THE LADY MUST CHOOSE
A Seabrook Family Saga, Book Three
England 1818
The sound of water slapping the side of the boat, along with the constant swaying, had Lady Isabella Seabrook wishing she could forget the events of the day. But really, how could she, when she sat on the floor of the Marquess of Newbury’s boat in soaking wet clothing. Close beside her sat her river companion. Another of the Marquess’s saves from the filthy Thames.
“Mr. Spencer, kindly remove your arms from around my waist.” Bella forced the words through chattering teeth. No easy task as her throat and lungs ached from all the water she’d swallowed. Water, only God knew what it contained.
“Forgive me. I didn’t want to let you go. Afraid I would lose you,” Mr. Spencer said through teeth, which chattered along with hers.
Mr. Stuart Spencer was cousin to the Earl of Bridgeton, whom Bella’s sister, Amelia, recently married. And she and Mr. Spencer had a friendship that was a tad unconventional.
“I am not yours to lose.”
“A gentleman can dream, can he not?”
“Do as Lady Isabella requests.”
Bella snapped her head around to seek out the person belonging to the voice. Myles Fredrickson, Baron Norwich, glared at Spencer from his perch across the boat. When he locked eyes with her he nodded his head ever-so-slightly. Evidently Myles, soaking wet as well, also took the dreadful fall into the Thames and was rescued by Newbury. Thank God he was safe. Bella could not imagine life without him, or Spencer. Her time spent with Spencer was fun and he amused her as friends do. She would value the relationship until the end of time, but her heart didn’t pound inside her chest like it did with Myles. With Myles, it increased to the point it wanted to escape from within her chest and unite with Myles’s heart.
At Myles’s demand, Spencer inhaled deeply and removed his arms from around her waist. Something Bella regretted immediately. Not for wanting his hands on her, but because he brought her warmth. Truth be told, she’d never been held by a man. Under different circumstances she might have enjoyed it. Replace Spencer’s arms with Myles’s and she would enjoy the moment much more.
Bella’s day had begun with family and friends on the river for the opening of Waterloo Bridge. The evening was to conclude at Carlton House, with a ball hosted by Prince George. Everything had gone splendidly, until their boat got rammed by another, causing theirs to lean dangerously to one side, throwing her, Mr. Spencer, Myles, and who knew who else into the muddy river.
She shivered now at the initial shock of hitting the water face first and coming up disoriented and tangled in her numerous clothing. A rather large woman had clung to her the moment she broke free to the surface, dragging her back under. Determined not to die, she struggled to free herself from the woman, only to realize she sank deeper into the water. Terror had seized her, and she screamed beneath the surface, inhaling disgusting river water. Thank God, Mr. Spencer found her and with his strong arms pulled her to the surface and helped her stay afloat. A short time later the marquess, along with his friends, rescued both of them.
So now she sat, in Newbury’s boat, beside Spencer, and opposite Myles, her hands locked together, praying if any other occupants of her family’s boat landed in the water they were found safely. She also prayed for the poor woman who had dragged her under in panic.
After their boat had collided with another, numerous other boats had done the same, throwing many other unprepared souls into the river. Bloodcurdling screams still pierced the air now. She covered her ears with her hands, closed her eyes and cringed.
“Lady Isabella.” Mr. Spencer reached out and gently pried her hands free. “You do not sound or look well.”
“Forgive me,” Bella whispered as her eyes fluttered around the boat, taking in all the people staring wide eyed at them. “Oh, how dreadful we must look.”
“Not dreadful. We resemble drowned rats.” Mr. Spencer chuckled. A servant handed him a dry blanket and he unselfishly tucked it around her.
“Thank you,” she said as she pulled it up to her chin, when what she really wanted to do was bury her face in the soft wool and cry. “I can’t believe this happened to us. Do you know if anyone else from our boat landed in the water?”
Bella gazed at Spencer and then Myles as they shared a silent look and her heart iced up. She struggled to free her hands from the blanket. When she succeeded she reached out and clutched Spencer’s cool hand with hers. “You might as well tell me. I’ll find out eventually.”
Before Spencer could answer, Myles spoke between blue trembling lips and worried eyes. “Your sister, Lady Bridgeton that I know of, although there may have been others.” He paused. “I saw both your brothers and Bridgeton go in after her. Do not fret. They will not leave the water without her safely in tow.”
“I understand,” the marquess said. “I realize this is not a good time for introductions, but I would be remise in my duties if I did not introduce you to my distant cousin. Lady Isabella Seabrook, may I present, Mr. Aaron Bradford, from Massachusetts.”
Bella wanted to bury her face beneath the blanket. How dreadful she must look. Instead, she raised her chin high, held out her hand, which trembled from cold or embarrassment she could not be certain which. “Mr. Bradford, how nice to make your acquaintance.”
Mr. Bradford leaned forward, took her hand in his large one and raised it up. His warm lips caressed her naked knuckles briefly. Oh dear, she forgot she took her wet gloves off and left them in the boat.
LORD SEBASTIAN AND THE SCOTTISH LASS
A Seabrook Family Saga, Book Four
Northern England
1818
Jagged bolts of lightning followed by ear splitting thunder caused every muscle in Sebastian Seabrook’s body to constrict. Halfpenny sized raindrops pelted him from every conceivable direction as the wind howled relentlessly. His tired and frightened gelding needed shelter, as did he. Why on earth did I volunteer to go on this mission?
When next the lightning
bolt lit up the scarcely traveled muddy road, it struck a tree in close proximity. The explosion shook the ground beneath him. His horse, spooked, reared up nearly unseating him and then bolted. Not down the muddy road, but into the woods. Sebastian fought with the reins, gave up the struggle to keep them in his hands and leaned far forward wrapping his arms around his horse’s neck and holding on for his life. “Please God,” he prayed. “I only wish to go home.”
Each and every time the sky lit up, he realized his horse carried them deeper and deeper into the unknown forest. If Sebastian had not been lost before, he certainly was now. His brother, the Duke, had wanted to hire Bow Street Runners for this quest, but no, he’d volunteered against his family’s wishes. He could hear the conversation clear as day inside his head even now over the noise of the storm raging around him.
“I will go,” Sebastian Seabrook, the younger brother to the Duke of Wentworth said to his family as they discussed what to do about a mysterious missive they received from a young girl claiming to be their father’s natural born daughter.
“You want to go?” questioned Wentworth.
“Why not?” Sebastian sipped his tea and took a mouthful of biscuit. “I have nothing keeping me here and the official Season has ended. Why you insist on the family staying in London in the heat of the summer is beyond me.”
“Yes, well.” Wentworth cleared his throat. “Since my lovely wife, Emma, is expecting, I believe we will retire to the country for several months. Why don’t you join us and leave this investigation to our friend, Mr. Smythe.”
“Because I have to go.”
Didn’t his family understand? He needed to get away and clear his head. Find purpose in his life. Ever since the one person he thought he would wed left him, he’d drifted in a sea of uncertainty. He needed to find himself again and perhaps this quest would help him. Also, he wanted to bring the girl home to his family safe and sound.
Marissa Frederickson, the woman he thought he would marry—eventually—fell in love with a military man and to her brother’s shock ran off. Bloody hell, she just left without a word to Sebastian or anyone else for that matter. He couldn’t honestly say his heart was broken, but it pained nonetheless. He and Marissa had been friends since childhood, and everyone thought they would marry in due time. How had they all been wrong, including him?
Now Sebastian had no prospects. Nor did the thought of spending time in the country appeal to him. The thought of traveling to Northern England seeking his dead father’s natural daughter seemed as good an idea as any to break free from the monotony of London in the off Season.
Lightning struck close again and he yelled, “Bloody hell, will this storm never abate.” His horse began to tire, but he didn’t slow. More spooked than ever he continued on. The rain intensified, which Sebastian didn’t think was possible, but it did. He didn’t risk letting one hand free from gripping his horse’s mane to wipe the cold rainwater from his eyes, therefore, he could barely make out his horse’s ears, never mind where they were headed.
Suddenly, his horse stopped, spun around and reared up, this time unseating Sebastian. The ground crashed up to meet him with such force it stole his breath away. Then just as quickly, the soaking ground vanished and he went sliding down. Mud, rocks, tree branches tore painfully into his body. He threw his arms up protecting his head. He tumbled still, hit something hard, rock or tree, it didn’t matter as pain exploded throughout his thigh and arm. At least he stopped falling.
Having come to rest on his back, he took quick breaths to fight the nauseating pain and the spinning of his head. Sebastian tried to lean up and look at his now numbing leg but couldn’t manage it and groaned as he lay back. Every part of his body screamed in agony, and he didn’t have the energy or will to move. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and rest, but he knew it would be the death of him. So he fought it to no avail. The sound of the rain hitting the trees and leaves and splashing onto the mud soaked ground soothed him and he slept to escape the pain, the cold, and the drenching rain.
“Wakey, wakey, govner.”
The first thing Sebastian became aware of was a man’s voice and a boot shoving relentlessly into his aching side. The second thing he became aware of was every part of his body hurt like bloody hell.
Where was he?
What had happened?
Then he remembered the storm, his horse bolting and throwing him, then falling down some kind of embankment. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to wake up. Being awake meant pain, unbearable, unforgiving agonizing pain.
“Wake up.” Another set of boots came into his field of vision.
This time the boot stomped on his stomach. Sebastian curled partway on his side and retched up what little food he’d consumed that day.
“For the love of God, leave me be,” he croaked as he squinted, trying to make out the men belonging to the voices and the confounded boot.
“Oh, dinnae you worry, govner,” one of the men drawled. “Once we have what we want, we’ll leave you.” Sick laughter surrounded him. “Of course once we leave, you’ll be meeting your maker.”
Sebastian struggled to rise, to no avail. His body was wounded more than he realized. “I’ll pay you. Just leave me be.”
Strong hands patted him down, tearing his cloak and boots from his battered body. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of his coin purse being tossed around. “Seems we found ourselves a rich noble.”
Sebastian reached out with his good arm. “There is more where that came from. My family will pay greatly for my safe return.”
“We are nay do-gooders.”
Sebastian watched with horror as one of the men raised his foot and crashed it down on his head. Pain exploded, and right before darkness descended, his body was kicked and he began to tumble once again. Only this time when he stopped, freezing water splashed around him.
Spencer Meets His Lady Love
A Seabrook Family Saga, Book Five
London 1806
“I’m finding it difficult deciding where to look,” Mr. Stuart Spencer said to his cousin, Lord William Spencer. “All these new debutantes making their formal entrance into society are straining my eyes.”
“Unless you want to find yourself leg-shackled, I suggest you look elsewhere. As you very well know, the debutantes and their mamas have one goal in mind. Matrimony.”
“It’s too bad really, I find the strawberry-blonde standing with Viscount and Viscountess Chambers quite alluring. Must be their one and only daughter if my memory serves me correctly?”
“You will do well and good to stay far away from her. Rumor has it the viscount made some bad investments, is utterly in debt and on the fringe of losing everything back to the crown, including his title. The family is relying on a match that will bring wealth back into their coffers.” William cocked a brow. “You, my dear cousin, may not possess a title, but you do have one thing they need—money and plenty of it. Your mother may have wed an untitled gentleman, but our grandfather was an earl and our grandmother a countess. You come from an aristocratic family and best watch yourself with.” He nodded in the strawberry-blonde’s direction. “That one.”
Stuart, called Spencer by most, laughed. “I’ll keep all this under advisement,” he said with a grin. However, I believe I’ll beg an introduction from her father. Excuse me.” Spencer didn’t need to glance back at his cousin to know he was scowling. And rightfully so. At the tender age of twenty-five, Spencer had no plans to marry anytime soon. He had no business hunting down Lady Miranda Carlton, except he couldn’t help himself. While conversing with William he’d been watching Lady Miranda. Her head tilting side to side while carrying on a conversation caused her lovely hair, piled high upon her head, to bob this way and that. The vision had kept his eyes riveted to her. He’d been unable to look elsewhere. The white gown she wore made her skin appear iridescent in the flickering light from the chandeliers. Unfortunately, he could not make out her eye color from this distance, n
or could he tell if her face was smattered with freckles as most strawberry-blondes were. But he would soon. His long strides ate up the distance between them until he finally arrived beside the Carlton family.
“Viscount, Viscountess.” Spencer bowed. “It is a pleasure to see you again.” If the viscount and viscountess appeared shocked at his words, they hid it well. Although they traveled in the same privileged circles, he’d never been formally introduced or spoken a word to either of them. He only hoped they knew his name.
“Mr. Spencer,” the viscount said with a knowing look. Spencer should have known he would have done research on the available gentlemen of the ton before introducing their daughter to society. No doubt, only the richest graced their suitable marriage list for their only daughter. Was he on it? Doesn’t matter. I’m not looking for a wife.
“May I present my daughter, Lady Miranda. Lady Miranda, this is Mr. Stuart Spencer, the grandson of the Dowager Countess of Bridgeton and the late Fifth Earl of Bridgeton.”
Miranda curtsied. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Spencer.”
Spencer bowed while taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “The pleasure is all mine.” He removed his hand quickly, not wanting to give her father any cause to think their search for a suitor was over. Spencer merely wanted to meet Lady Miranda and dance a waltz with her. Not spend the rest of his life as her husband.
Although, as he held her small, gloved hand in his and peered into her emerald green eyes, and noticed the light dusting of freckles on her pink cheeks, something shifted inside him. Something subtle and elusive, but something nonetheless. He would worry about the significance of that later. For the time being he would wait patiently for the first waltz as Lady Miranda promised it to him.
The Spencer Sisters Forbidden Loves and Broken Hearts Page 18