The Hero and the Hellion: A Steamy Regency Historical Romance (The Somerton Scandals Book 3)

by Ava Devlin

  It was a shame that Niles, the old stable master, had retired and moved south. Callum would have very much enjoyed showing off this fine example of horseflesh to the man who instilled within him a love of all things equine. At the very least, his mother would fawn and coo and say all the right things, even if she couldn't tell a plow nag from a destrier.

  Heloise would love him, though. He grinned to himself, beneath the layers of his bundling, at the thought of her comparing this young horse to her beloved bay mare, who had long been the finest mount for miles around. Would she begrudge Caesar his speed and beauty opposite her beloved Boudicea? Perhaps she had enough room in her heart for both.

  His heart was thundering in his chest as he urged Caesar over the snowy field, toward the stables that he'd once thought of as home. It wasn't the speed nor the cold nor the exhaustion of so many days on the move that ignited him so, but rather the anticipation of finally having come to a moment that he'd imagined a thousand times for so, so long.

  It was a bright day, but the clouds that hung in the sky were silver and fat, promising another layer of glistening powder in short order. Somerton was glorious in any weather, a glittering jewel on a hill amidst the most stunning scenery in Yorkshire, but Callum thought there was something particularly otherworldly about it covered in white with a stark, shining sun above.

  He was breathless by the time he reached the stables, his blood surging hot in his veins. He held his breath without meaning to as he descended from Caesar's back, almost as though he couldn't quite believe his feet were about to touch home soil once again. Well, through a layer of frost and hay, anyhow.

  He unwrapped the scarf from his face, breathing deep the brisk air and scent of the stables. He supposed there was something telling about his low breeding that he reveled so in the smell of a hayloft and a not indistinguishable undertone of manure, but ah, it was home.

  "Hello?" a thin voice called, a tawny head of hair poking out from the loft where Callum had once made his bed. "Who's there?"

  "Callum Laughlin," he called back. "Here to see my mother."

  "What!" the lad cried, as though this news were a revelation on par with the Second Coming. He tumbled directly over the side of the loft, scaling down the ladder like a squirrel on a tree, his cheeks just as puffy and his eyes just as bright. He couldn't have been more than ten years of age and was a complete stranger to Callum, which made it all the more confounding when the boy breathed, "Is it really you?"

  "Afraid so," he replied with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Is my mother about?"

  "No one's here, sir, Lieutenant, sir," the boy announced, his eyes darting from Callum's face to Caesar and back again. His accent was markedly more Highland than Yorkshire. "Everyone's in the township on account of the wedding. Sir. Lieutenant."

  "Wedding?" Callum repeated, a chill taking hold of his lungs that had nothing to do with the weather. "Who is being wed?"

  "Lord Alex is taking a wife, of course," the boy replied. "It's been in all the papers. Even in America!"

  Oh, thank God.

  "And who are you, might I ask?" Callum inquired, perhaps more tardily than was strictly polite, even if this was only a child.

  "I'm Robbie," the boy said, puffing up his chest. "My papa is the driver and stable master here!"

  "Is that so? Well, if you know who I am, then you know I was once the stable boy myself."

  The boy nodded enthusiastically, his thoughts pouring out of him so fast, he had to gasp for breath between each statement. "Yes sir, Mrs. Laughlin reads your letters to me if I ask nice enough. Is that your horse? He's a fine one! Is he friendly?"

  "He's tired," Callum said, patting Caesar's neck. "Might I trouble you to give him a nice brush and some oats? He's had a very long journey."

  "Yes, of course, sir. I mean Lieutenant!"

  Callum handed Caesar's reins to the boy, chuckling at his clear enthusiasm. "Is there somewhere I might wash and change while I await my mother's return, Mr. Robbie?"

  "Oh." The boy flushed, his cheeks glowing pink. "Just Robbie, sir. Please. My parents are at the wedding on account of the carriages, but I reckon you could use our house if you please."

  "I would very much appreciate it," Callum said with true and earnest gratitude. If he had time to rinse off the dirt of the road, perhaps run a razor over his jaw, and dress like a gentleman rather than a vagrant, he was sure he would make a more presentable impression on Heloise and her family as they returned from Alex's nuptials.

  It was difficult to imagine Alex Somers a married man! He really had been gone for a long time, hadn't he? He couldn't fathom what type of girl had finally snared the rapscallion, unless of course he'd caved to the stern demands of his elder brother and simply picked a mousy miss who wouldn't complain too much about his conquests and capers.

  He made his way into the renovated crofter's hut that sat behind the stables and began the process of peeling off his cold, damp travel clothes while the young lad insisted on heating up water for a bath. The little ragamuffin might look like a stable hand, but he clearly had the disposition of a cherub to go to such trouble.

  How the Somers family had ended up with a Scottish driver and his brood was a story Callum very much looked forward to hearing.

  The last he'd seen of House Somers was on a mild spring evening in London, four years past, at the moment that the reserved and calculated Viscount Gideon Somers had decided, shockingly, to elope with a pretty, curvaceous thing that he had apparently snatched up from a ball.

  Rather than using Callum, who was still rather inexperienced at managing carriage horses on the road and navigating the greater part of Britain, the couple had decided to swap drivers with the Marquis of Moorvale for a swifter, more guaranteed passage to Scotland, where a legal elopement could take place. After all, Moorvale was known for the quality of his stables.

  It had been his window of opportunity, hadn't it? Sheldon Bywater was not what most would imagine when thinking of a marquis. He was large and loud and quite a lot of fun, and it was he who suggested Callum depart with him to the Continent for a spot of soldiering, phrasing the suggestion as though it were simply an invitation to a corner pub for a pint and a laugh.

  The marquis had taken a liking to Callum, who was still green and eager as a lad of almost twenty. He'd sponsored Callum's commission and for the first six months on the Continent, he had been on hand with the same regiment as a mentor and role model for all military life ought to be.

  Callum had always believed he was destined for more than a life in service, scraping to the whims of those born to nobility, but without the benevolence of a nobleman, he wasn't sure he'd ever have found his way to the destiny he'd so wanted and the means to build a future he relished building toward.

  Luckily, his rucksack had kept his belongings dry and as wrinkle free as could be expected after such a journey. Everything he owned was in a bag light enough to wear around his middle, but the fact that such things could belong to him was enough to spark a confidence within him that he'd never have known otherwise.

  He did not linger in the bath, though the temptation to soak in the warm water until night fell was a strong one. He dressed hurriedly, not wanting to miss the return of the wedding party, and mentally promised he'd have a good shave and a proper washing of his hair on the morrow.

  He tended his appearance in a mirror made of hammered steel, attempting to smooth his cravat and make some sort of sense of his hair. Even with the stubble, he thought he presented a reasonably tidy visage, particularly in the clothes he'd bought before leaving Paris. His dark blond mane was a little longer than he'd come to prefer it, but that could be dealt with later as well.

  Would the Somers siblings see him as a new man, proved in the war and refined in the Continent? Or would they always see a stable boy who had dreamed of something more than his station?

  What would his mother see?

  He inhaled deeply, shaking these thoughts from his head and straightening
his spine. He slung the sack back over his shoulder and stepped outside, back into the blinding white expanse of the winter.

  Before he reached the stables again, he could see them coming. First as little black dots on the horizon, then as distinct carriage and horse shapes, a train of merrymakers coming over the hill. From here, he couldn't tell which carriages held the ton and which held the staff. They would have to get much closer for him to make that distinction.

  "Mrs. Laughlin will want to see you straight away!" little Robbie insisted, taking the rucksack from Callum as though he were a proper guest to be waited upon. "You should go to the drive to await the carriage train. She'll be so happy to see you, sir. I mean Lieutenant. She missed you terribly."

  "The drive," Callum repeated, knowing that the lad was right.

  It seemed that he would not get to decide who he saw first, nor how or when, for all of the Somers household was coming toward him at speed, and he could do nothing more than stand and await them.

  5

  She knew.

  Somehow, before they'd even made their way through the gates of Somerton or passed over the vantage of the hill, she knew.

  Something in the air changed, a chill that hadn't been there just a moment before, an edge to the wind and a strength to the sunlight that sent a rush of nervous energy seeping through her skin and into her bones. She'd swear until her dying day that she had known, before she could have possibly seen him there.

  "Is everything all right?" Rose had asked, her lips turned downward in concern, big golden eyes searching Heloise's face, taking in an expression that must have bordered on nausea.

  Gideon mimicked his wife's frown, regarding his sister across the carriage with his customary air of seriousness. "This had better not be about Miss Blakely joining the family, Hel," he chided. "I thought we were past all that nonsense. I won't have you in a snit on their wedding day."

  Heloise clicked her tongue in annoyance, the automatic instinct to snap at her brother dampened by the sudden and intense sense of foreboding that had overtaken her. Something was different, and she could feel it about her person like the crackle one is said to feel just before lightning strikes the very spot where they stand, but she couldn't very well say so to the two of them.

  "I'm perfectly happy for Alex and Gloriana," she replied as evenly as she could manage. "I simply have quite a lot on my mind today. I need to prepare for the arrival of the Collins baby amidst all this hubbub."

  "Mm," Gideon grunted, disbelief reflecting in his eyes.

  For all Gideon's glaring and muttering, at least he was silent about her midwifery. She knew he wished her to be more a proper lady, even if he'd never say so. He was a good sort in that way.

  Rose, for her part, was openly supportive of it, and even commented that she had seen Abigail a few days past in the village, and that she was looking very well. There was not a hint of judgement or disapproval about her tone when speaking of the unwed mother-to-be, though Heloise supposed that might have been because she herself was in the carriage and Rose was one of the few people in the world that knew the truth of Caroline's origins.

  The only person, in fact, that knew the whole truth.

  The carriage was moving slower than usual, careful of the slickness of ice on the ground, and Heloise thought the stunted pace would drive her completely mad. On horseback, she could have already made it to Somerton and back three times by now! Instead, here she was, being interrogated by her prig of a brother while her sister-in-law looked at her with the type of concern one usually reserves for death beds.

  She held her brother's eye with a steady, if not belligerent stare, until he finally sighed and looked away, gazing out the window as they dragged along at the pace of a wounded tortoise. Heloise believed that if she put her mind to it, she had time to count every branch on every tree they passed within a reasonable accuracy at their rate of movement.

  "Who's that there at the house?" he said, tapping one of his manicured fingernails against the carriage window. "One of the entertainers for the breakfast, you reckon?"

  "No," Rose replied, leaning over her husband to take a look for herself. "Any staff would know to go to the servants' entrance. Whoever that man is, he is waiting for us to return."

  "It's probably just one of Gloriana's other fiancés," Heloise said flatly, the indifference in her voice cloaking the way her heart had surged up into her throat and settled into a rapid, thumping chaos in her chest. What on earth was the matter with her?

  Neither of her companions bothered to respond to her jest, instead choosing to lean on one another for a moment to get Rose re-situated in her seat, still adjusting to the weight of the growing child within her

  She did her best not to fidget as they drew nearer to the house, finally able to pick up a modicum of speed on the well-trodden drive. If her nerves were already on edge to begin with, they frayed at the seams when the carriage in front of theirs ground to a halt, forcing their own to suddenly stop amidst the sudden ring of raised voices coming from without.

  Never one to tolerate a lack of order in any facet of his life, Gideon immediately pushed the door open and leaned his head out to demand an explanation.

  There was a flash of movement in shades of light blue as someone from the leading carriage alighted with sudden ferocity and lifted her skirts to race across the remainder of the driveway toward their mysterious guest.

  It was then that Heloise began to put into words what her soul had sensed from the road. If she could have stopped Gideon from speaking as he drew back into the carriage, she would have, but it wouldn't have changed anything. All she could do was sit there, as though time were suspended around her, and wait for him to say the thing she already knew was true.

  "That was Mrs. Laughlin," he said with a little crook of his lips. "It appears young Callum has finally returned from the war!"

  Heloise saw the way Rose's posture straightened, the way her eyes snapped from her husband to Heloise. There was nothing to be done for it but to meet her gaze with a helpless shrug before her brother returned his full body within and pulled the door back into place so that the carriage might continue to its intended destination.

  When it had finally ground to a halt, she awaited their driver, Graham, to wrench the door free for Gideon to emerge, despite his thorough demonstration just moments before that he was perfectly capable of operating the carriage door himself, then Rose, whom Graham took special care to help down as she supported the weight of her pregnancy with her other hand.

  It felt to Hel almost as though she were not in control of her own body, like somehow she was watching from a distance as the Heloise below forced herself to scoot to the appropriate end of the bench and push herself up and out, allowing Graham to grip her gloved hand as she took a little leap to the frosty gravel below.

  Her hood was still down, having had no reason to be drawn back up over her hair if she was riding within the carriage, and as such, unfortunately served as an extremely visible beacon in any crowd, particularly on a winter's day.

  Still, she managed to see him first, through the muddle of people, still being held on either arm by the enthusiastic grip of his mother. He was smiling down at her with such a heartbreaking glow of joy that for a moment Heloise thought she might crumple directly onto the drive.

  "There, now," Rose whispered in her ear, somehow managing to give her a body to lean into while appearing to require support herself. "Keep your chin up. We'll get you through this."

  "And here I thought your invitation had gotten lost in the post!" Alex Somers cried, approaching with his smiling bride's hand clasped in his own. "Wonderful timing, Laughlin. Allow me to introduce my wife ..."

  Heloise remained frozen stiff, stuck to the spot where she'd been standing as though roots had sprouted from her boots and twined into the earth below her feet. It was as though she had no control over her body and was forced against her will to watch Callum Laughlin exchange pleasantries and greetings with her family,
unable to do anything to stop it. She was unable even to rouse herself to feign disinterest when she saw those dark eyes scanning the crowd and landing, finally, excruciatingly, upon her.

  Alex was still jabbering away, with Gloriana and Mrs. Laughlin engaged in their own little tête-à-tête regarding the impending breakfast and how Callum must absolutely join the Somers family for the occasion. None of them seemed to notice the way the planet itself seemed to quake in that moment, though Heloise was certain it had.

  He looked somehow like a different person entirely while still being exactly as she remembered. Those eyes, just like Caroline's, were so dark, they were almost black. The intensity of his gaze awoke a flash of heat in her body that managed to finally melt the grip of ice that was holding her in place, speeding the world back up to its normal pace around her as she felt her weight give into the support of Rose's body at her side.

  "Come on," Rose murmured in her ear, guiding her toward the entryway of the house, just strongly enough to give Heloise the strength to tear her eyes from his, to blink quickly away the well of moisture that brimmed at her lashes and to step quickly and meaningfully over the threshold into her home, with her past, for at least one stolen moment, firmly behind her.

  Always the quick thinker, Rose spoke a few words to the nannies, and both Callie and little Reggie were whisked away to the nursery before the festivities could begin. No one seemed aware that the children might otherwise have been included in the breakfast, and so no one noticed aught amiss with the change.

  Of course, little Caroline Cunningham wouldn't know Callum Laughlin from Adam. All the same, Heloise believed that one source of anxiety at a time seemed prudent, given the shock she'd just had, and any risk of someone making the connection was one she couldn't currently contemplate.