by Amy Field
“This is the doctor that rescued Peaches," he said.
What happened to 'my wife' Ruby wondered, attempting to smile.
“Oh, thank you so much.” The woman said as she hugged Ruby. She was very nice, and Ruby suddenly felt very awkward. She wanted to dislike the woman. Wanted to hate her, but she couldn’t. The woman hugged her softly and smiled a radiant smile at her before resuming her conversation with Cole.
Feeling like she was suffocating, Ruby said goodbye and quickly left the house. She made her way back to the town as fast as she could. Why was Cole treating her like a third wheel? Were there other women in his life she didn't know about? She felt her heart break at the thought, or was she just being silly? An overwhelming fear of being hurt and rejection, and gave in to an overwhelming impulse to run away. This was all so sudden, perhaps it was a huge mistake, the wedding, and her coming to this town.
She had to go home.
She was thankful that it was still early enough so that the stage coach would not be leaving for another hour or so. She needed to get the one small trunk. That was all she needed to take home with her.
Ruby made her way to the small house and quickly packed what she could. Gathering her wits, she made her way to the stagecoach. There weren’t too many people out, and she knew that Cole had to take Will over to the next town. She slid her luggage in with the others quickly and turned as Cole came to her.
“You left so quickly. I wanted to tell you goodbye. I will be back in a few days.”
“Ok.”
She let him kiss her briefly on the lips. She knew it would be the last time she felt his lips on hers, and she almost cried on the spot. He looked at her for a moment and smiled.
“I think we should talk when I get back.” He said with a slight smile.
“Ok.” She watched him walk away then and pull himself up on the horse that was waiting. Will sat on the other with a rope around his hands that was tied to the pummel of his saddle. There was another string of rope that tied it to Cole’s horse. There was no way he was getting away.
After he was gone, she turned back to the stagecoach.
“What are you doing?”
She turned to see Steven standing there and smiled sadly. “I’m going home.”
"Why? You are home, here with us."
“No.” She shook her head sadly as she looked at him and then hugged him. “I should never have come.” Tears welled up in her eyes.
“He'll be upset. What should I say?"
“No, he won’t. Not for long. He will see that this is better.” She felt the tears slide from her eyes then.
“He loves you. He will be heartbroken.”
“He doesn’t love me. He will forget about this whole thing.”
Steven shook his head. “We will see. I will see you soon.” He said with a chuckle.
She looked at him again but instead of arguing she nodded her head and then made her way into the coach waiting on her.
Chapter 10
Home, Sweet Home
Ruby looked out the window of the small room again with another sigh. It had been a month since she got home. She never said anything to anyone about her time in Virginia, just that she missed home. She had decided to help out at the house for a while with her Momma in the kitchen. If she could learn how to cook half as good as her sister Faith, then she would be happy. She had realized in her time away that although she loved medicine, there was more to life. She had been so consumed with it that she hadn’t even let herself live and enjoy life.
In the kitchen, she laughed as the flour puffed up to cover Grace’s face.
“I don’t see what Faith gets out of this. It is hard and aggravating. I would rather catch a fish with my own two hands.” Grace mumbled then.
“Go on with you, Grace. See if Hope needs help with the baby or something,” Charity laughed at her youngest daughter.
The front door opened, and Hope came into the kitchen, carrying a little bundle wrapped in blankets. The little boy made a giggle in her arms. “Somebody’s coming, Mom. It looks like they’re riding pretty fast too. It might be trouble.”
As the person came closer, they all went out to see who it was. Ruby gasped and grabbed the pole then as she saw who the rider was.
“Ruby. Do you know him? He’s not from town.” Charity said, look quizzically at Ruby.
“Yes, I know him. He’s my husband.”
All three women’s eyes widened as they watched her step from the porch to greet the man, who wore a Sherriff's badge and looked upstanding and neat on his stead, despite the distance he'd traveled.
He hopped down from the horse as soon as it stopped, if it did stop completely. Ruby took a step forward. They stood facing each other for a moment, and then Cole spoke in a harried tone.
“What do you think you are doing? Do you know how worried I was?”
Ruby struggled to get the words out.
“I didn’t think you would notice.”
“How could I not notice that my wife left town?” He threw his hands into the air.
Her hands went to her hips then as she glowered at him, her courage back. Anger was placing her sorrow.
“I’m sure you have plenty of women who could help you cope with me gone. You treated me like I didn't even exist!" She felt angry tears welling up in her eyes.
He looked at her, not understanding what this was about, and then his eyes widened before he started laughing.
"Are you talking about Pam? We're great friends, and I looked after her when her husband went off to fight the Indians, but that there certainly never was anything between us! She's a happily married woman! Is that why you left?”
He must have read the answer in her eyes because he held out his arms to her then. “Don’t you get it?”
“Don’t I get what?”
“I love you, silly. I have since the first moment I saw you and since then there has been nobody but you. I've left my life with other women before you behind. I'm sorry if sometimes I didn't make you feel like you are the most important person in my life, but you are my wife.”
“That's because we were forced to marry!”
“Honey, it would have happened eventually anyway. I didn’t want to face it at first, but you had me, honey. I fell for you hard, and I love you.”
Ruby hesitated for a moment. She looked Cole in the eyes, and saw how much he missed her, how much he loved her. She realized how much she'd been missing him.
“Oh, I love you too Cole.” She jumped into his arms, and they kissed passionately. Just then they realized that they had an audience when they heard the clapping from behind them. She looked over at her mother and sisters sheepishly.
“So, daughter. You want to explain what’s going on?” Charity said with a smile.
“Yeah, and why you didn’t tell us when you got home.” Hope added with an accusing look.
“And why we didn’t get no invite to no wedding.” Grace stomped her foot to the side just like Ruby did.
“You think I’m stubborn and have a loud mouth, but you haven't seen anything yet. I give you ten minutes with Grace,” Ruby said to Cole and laughed as her youngest sister’s eyebrows raised in challenge.
Cole looked a little overwhelmed as he spoke to Grace. "I love your sister, Grace, but she's a handful enough for me.”
“Lord help the man that has to deal with this one,” Charity said with a gesture towards Grace, and they all laughed as Grace smiled devilishly.
As they stood talking, Ruby's father Seth and his friend Jonesy came in from the fields. Now I'd have to tell the story again, she thought. Not that she minded, as she turned to smile at her husband. It has been quite an adventure, but she'd found what she wanted. Happiness.
THE END
A SELECTION OF STORIES FROM THE ROMANCE READING ROOM LIBRARY
Regency Romances
Book I
The Duchess Runaway
Chapter One
Lyndhurst Hall
Derbyshire
July 1815
“Why would you have me do this?” Lady Eleanor, the second daughter of His Grace, the Duke of Carrington, questioned in disbelief.
“Because I am your father, and therefore, it is my duty to assure that your marriage arrangements are beneficial to both you, your family and your country,” her father replied, looking longingly at the stack of unopened letters sitting in a pile on his mahogany desk.
“How is marrying a complete stranger much older than I am an advantageous match for me?” she argued.
“The Earl of Southerland is well-respected throughout all of England, Ellie. His wealth and estates are vast, and as the Commander in Chief of the British Army, his influence knows no boundaries. You are the niece of a king, and this match is well suited to your station,” he explained impatiently.
Ellie stomped her foot. “I don’t care if he is the king of England, himself,” she hissed, “I don’t want to marry him!”
“Such a headstrong child you are. Harry and Eloisa never question my instruction, and they do as they are told with no complaints,” her father sighed, shaking his head. He dropped his writing pen and folded his hands as he stared down his wayward child. “You will marry Lord Southerland, and you will make no more mention of your objections to me or anyone else. Do I make myself clear?”
Tasting defeat, she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Yes, Father.” Her head held high; she left the study, refusing to allow him the privilege of seeing her cry.
As soon as the heavy oak door closed behind her, she hurried down the corridor and through the grand hall as fast as her silk slippers would carry her. Darting through the kitchen courtyard after scooting past the servants milling about in preparation for afternoon tea, she sought solace in the one place always guaranteed to renew her spirit. Sinking her knees onto a patch of lavender grass, she breathed in the calming beauty of Lyndhurst Hall’s private gardens.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she arranged her taffeta gown about her, situating herself in the shade of a lush maple tree. The midday sun shone brightly above—banishing, if only for a brief moment, the shadows of dread creeping into her thoughts and dreams.
How could her father marry her off to such a hard man? Did he not care for her? Lord Southerland, known to many as the Commander, was well-respected, but kindness wasn't what his reputation was built on. How could Father marry her off to a man more accustomed to the battlefield than a proper gentleman’s study?
A gust of wind whistled through the garden as the first of her tears escaped, dripping down her cheeks and onto her satin gloves and gown. She sniffled.
“Ellie, my dear?” a soft voice called.
“I’m over here, Mother,” Ellie replied. She watched as her mother gracefully strolled down the cobblestone path. With a tall, slim figure and only a touch of gray streaking her ebony hair, her mother still turned heads with her elegant beauty.
“I was told that you’ve spoken with your father,” she explained, taking a seat on a nearby stone bench.
“Does nothing happen in this house that the servants do not know?” Ellie remarked with a touch of sarcasm.
“Of course not, and you would be wise never to forget,” she said with a flick of her gloved hand.
“Why, Mother? Why would Father do such a thing?” Ellie sobbed, her head in her hands.
“Darling, this arrangement is beyond our control. The Commander and your father made these decisions many months ago. You know that neither you nor I can change what has been decided. We simply must make the best of your upcoming nuptials. Therefore, in honor of your engagement, we shall throw a ball—the grandest of the season, I assure you.”
“A ball? I’ve yet to meet the Commander. Isn’t he still away at war in France?”
“The war officially ended two months ago, Ellie. You must brush up on your knowledge of current affairs. Of course, the Commander will be in attendance at the ball held in honor of his own engagement. You will meet him then,” her mother replied, rising from her seat and retreating from the gardens.
Ellie wasn’t ready to leave her sanctuary just yet. Once she rose from the sweetly scented lavender, she’d have to resign to her fate. To be the wife of a man she’d never met, the mother of children that weren’t hers, and the lovely, voiceless prize on the arm of the country’s most dashing and celebrated hero.
THE BALL
Ellie fidgeted with the lacework trailing from the puffed sleeves of her ivory satin gown and tried not to move around too much, lest one of the peach roses pinned into her chestnut curls tumbled out of place. She attempted to take a deep breath, but the constricting gown with its gold trim and Italian lace was too uncomfortably tight to allow for such a luxury.
“My dear, may I present to you, the Commander in Chief of the British Army, his grace, the Earl of Southerland. Lord Southerland, standing before you is our most beloved daughter, Lady Eleanor,” her father introduced them with a flourished wave in Lyndhurst Hall’s gilded ballroom. Enough candles filled the room to light an entire village and cascades of peonies, roses, and ferns covered everything.
Ellie studied Lord Southerland briefly. Tall and masculine, the Commander was handsome, but his features were too harsh, his dark eyes too cool for her liking. His black hair was shot through with silver and a scar cut through one of his eyebrows. Something about him sent a shiver down Ellie’s spine.
He gingerly took the gloved hand she extended and kissed it. “Lady Eleanor, you are lovelier than I could have ever imagined.” He smiled at her.
“Why, thank you, my lord,” she replied, curtseying.
“Shall we dance?” he asked, offering his arm. Ellie nodded and placed a hand on his brushed velvet coat as he led her to the center of the ballroom. As they danced a lively quadrille, she tried her best to enjoy it.
“I trust you are enjoying yourself, Lady Eleanor?” he asked as they spun around.
“Yes, my Lord. I love to dance,” she told him.
“Lovely.” He smiled down at her, and Ellie felt her heart warm slightly for the strange man soon to be her husband.
When the dance ended, Lord Southerland escorted her from the dance floor.
“Good evening, gentleman,” he announced as they approached a group of officers near the doors to the veranda.
The group nodded and bowed as required by their ranking.
“Lady Eleanor, I would like you to meet a few of my finest men,” Lord Southerland said, gesturing to the men. Ellie politely smiled and curtseyed as he introduced his officers to her, but as he reached the last of them, her heart strangely warmed and felt tight in her chest.
“This man is making quite the rise among the ranks with his keen intellect and swift bravery. Lady Eleanor, I’d like you to meet Captain Wyndmere.”
Ellie dipped slightly as Captain Wyndmere with his windblown hair and bright blue eyes staring intensely into her own, smiled kindly. The room suddenly grew warm, and Ellie untied her silk fan.
“Ellie, my dear!” a high-pitched female called. She turned to see her childhood friend, Elizabeth, waving happily.
“I see you are wanted by a friend. Just as well, I’ve need to attend to a pressing matter,” Lord Southerland informed her, parting ways with her as she closed the distance between herself and Elizabeth.
“Is it true then, Ellie? Are you to be married?” she exclaimed, taking Ellie’s hands in her own.
“It is,” Ellie said, hoping she sounded pleasant.
“I’m quite jealous! They say the Commander is second only to the king in status and loyalty among the country,” Elizabeth remarked.
“I suppose. I’ve only just met him. Excuse me, Elizabeth, but I must get a bit of air and a moment to collect my thoughts,” Ellie explained, rushing away from her kind, but oblivious, friend and the stifling press of the crowd.
“Lady Eleanor,” a male voice called. Something about the way he said her name—almost like a song with a hint of mirth and
mischief just below the surface filled her with butterflies.
“Yes?” she turned and saw the dashing Captain Wyndmere awaiting her attention.
“Might you dance with me?” he asked, bowing.
“I suppose so,” she nodded, hoping her elation at his request didn’t show.
On the dance floor, the slow tune of a minuet began. With each calculated step, Ellie’s eyes never left Captain Wyndmere’s, and when their hands clasped, an intense burn singed her inner being. What was it about this man that mesmerized her?
All too soon, the music ended, and Ellie saw her father peering suspiciously at her dance partner from across the room.
“Excuse me, Captain Wyndmere, I need a bit of fresh air,” she told him with a quick curtsey before rushing off to the seclusion of the garden.
Chapter Two
Finally alone with her tumultuous thoughts, Ellie rested against the stone garden wall, comforted by the fading twilight and the stillness of the evening air, until a faint moan brought her wandering mind to attention. Ellie glanced around her, but with only a trace of the dusk left, she couldn’t see much of her dark surroundings.
Again, she heard the soft cry of what sounded like a woman. Someone must be hurt! She lifted her gown and searched for the source of the noise.
“Hello?” she called out. “Is someone hurt?” With the lantern lights coming from the center of the garden, she turned the corner and saw movement in the distance. She rushed towards the movement, and then her eyes widened, and she gasped when the sight came into focus.
Ellie gasped, her hand covering her mouth in shock.
“Lady Eleanor!” her fiancée cried in surprise, fumbling to extricate himself from the woman beneath him. Ellie glanced from him to the female figure lying on her favorite patch of lavender, a woman who, stretched languidly on her back, certainly did not wear the expression of a damsel in distress. Ellie recognized the woman with her skirts around her waist as Lady Blakely, a wealthy widow known for her questionable moral compass.