by Amy Field
“I-I must go!” Ellie cried, running from the scene of passion and her betrothed as fast as she could. Marrying this man was the last thing she wanted! Running with her heart, not her head, she soon found herself in Lyndhurst’s vast stables.
Sneaking past the grooms busy with a game of cards, she crept into the stall of her mare, Leona, shimmied up and onto the horse’s pale gray back. All along the while thanking her lucky stars that she’d been blessed with magic when it came to horses and much to her parents’ chagrin, practically lived in the stables during her childhood summers. Her gray mare stood patient and still as it took Ellie a few tries to master the old trick of hopping on her bareback from her youthful years. It only proved more difficult while wearing an expensive ball gown.
Once she’d managed to position herself astride the horse, her dress tucked scandalously about her knees, she leaned over to speak softly into the horse’s ear. “Now, Leona girl, I need you to slip out of here as quiet as a church mouse, and we’ll ride like the wind once we clear the paddock, alright, love?” Ellie soothed.
With the ball in full swing, music pouring from the open windows and doors, no one noticed as Ellie directed Leona out of the stable. Ellie slowly edged her way down the long, winding drive, and as soon as Leona’s hooves hit the packed earth of the main road, she kicked in her heels and urged the horse into a full gallop. As she rode wildly away, the wind pulled the pins from her tresses and her hair waved in long curls like a flag of freedom behind her.
She rode fast and hard, afraid that any moment someone would try to catch her and drag her back to her fancy, gold-trimmed prison. Still unsure as to her plan, she simply let Leona lead, trusting that wherever she ended up would be better than the place she was leaving behind.
An hour into her liberating journey, the chill of the night began to seep in, and Ellie wished she’d thought to wear a shawl. Thunder began to rumble ominously to the east, and Ellie urged Leona from her casual saunter. She’d need to find lodging soon.
As she peered in front of her, unable to see much of anything, a fat drop of rain landed on the tip of her nose. Another landed on her bare arm. Then another. Before she knew it, rain poured from the sky in unrelenting sheets, drenching her and Leona to the core. Having no choice, she began to guide Leona to shelter under a tree to wait out the summer storm, but out of nowhere, an intense jolt of lightning sizzled in front of them, followed by an earth-shattering boom of thunder, startling the horse and causing her to rear back.
Unprepared for Leona’s frightened reaction, Ellie fell from the horse, her body slamming into the muddy road with a thud as the terrified horse ran away, surely back to the Lyndhurst Hall stables. Minutes passed while Ellie lay there, too shocked and afraid to move. Her hip and shoulder throbbed, but she couldn’t stay curled in a heap on the soggy road while the rain continued to fall relentlessly.
After a few tries, Ellie managed to pick herself up and limp in her sodden skirts to the fence lining the side of the road. Scooting her body to perch on the stones beneath the makeshift shelter of a tree, she settled in to await help.
A while later, Ellie wasn’t sure how long since each minute ticked by in agonizing slowness while she endured rivulets of water trickled off of her gown, inside her stays, and even into her shoes, she heard the welcome sound of a horse galloping. The steady beat only grew louder. Her heart soared—help was on its way!
But as the horse drew close and lightning illuminated the sky, she realized it could very well be a highwayman. The horse approaching was large and dark and held a broad rider. She gasped, but quickly slapped her hand over her mouth to cover the noise. Maybe, if she stayed utterly still, the stranger would ride away without noticing her.
“Lady Eleanor!” the rider called into the wind.
Her eyes widened. In a surprising turn of events, she prayed it was someone here to return her to the safety of Lyndhurst Hall. Returning was much preferable to dying at the hands of a stranger or catching her death of cold on the side of the road.
“Here! I’m here!” She stumbled from her hiding place, tripping on the swirling sogginess of gown clinging to her legs and falling to the muddy ground once again.
The rider stopped short, his horse neighing in protest.
“Lady Eleanor?” he asked, hopping down from his ride and rushing over to assist her, “It’s me, Captain Wyndmere,” he explained as he helped her rise.
“How did you find me?” she asked breathlessly, clinging to him as he led her to his waiting stallion.
“I saw you rush from the gardens, clearly distressed. I apologize, but I followed you after our dance to make sure you were alright,” he said sheepishly.
“Please don’t apologize—I’m thankful for your assistance,” she assured.
“We’ve got to get you out of this weather,” he said swiftly, helping her onto his horse and swinging up behind her. He grabbed the reins and she sunk back against his chest as the horse broke into a swift pace. “I believe the Huntington’s country manor is just up the road. We’ll seek lodging and wait out the storm.”
She nodded wordlessly, closing her eyes in exhaustion as they rode. Despite the roaring wind and unfamiliar surroundings, she felt oddly at peace and secure in the arms of a man she’d only known for a handful of hours. Her lips curled at the irony, remembering her tireless lament about marrying a stranger.
Chapter Three
Ellie tossed and turned beneath the embroidered coverlet. Despite her heavy eyelids and aching exhaustion, sleep evaded her in her foreign surroundings. Although the Huntingtons were acquaintances of her family, she’d never visited their modest country manor, and after her harrowing evening, spending the night in their second-floor guest room made her doubt, even more, her hasty decision to flee Lyndhurst Hall.
As soon as the silver light of predawn began to seep into the shadows of the dated room, Ellie rose. She slipped out of the nightgown Lady Huntington’s housekeeper had given her to wear and into a day dress two inches too short and far too loose in the bosom. Plaiting her thick hair into a braid, she squeezed her feet into the slippers of the younger Huntington daughter and with no looking glass in the bedroom, had to trust that she looked presentable enough for the journey back to Lyndhurst.
Moments later, when she entered the dining room to break her fast, she saw Captain Wyndmere sitting at the table alone. She dipped a quick curtsey as he stood to greet her.
“I trust you slept well,” he said as she turned to the boiled eggs, fruits and scones set out on the buffet to make a plate at her leisure.
“As well as expected under the circumstances,” she replied taking a seat at the table.
“Lord and Lady Huntington have yet to rise,” he explained as she glanced around the empty table.
“I hope to be on our way as soon as possible,” she said, taking a bite of a blueberry scone.
“Certainly, Lady Carrington. I’m sure your family is quite worried.”
She sighed. “I suppose so.”
“Lady Carrington?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“Might I be so bold as to ask why you left the ball unaccompanied?”
“Seeing as I owe you my very life, I shall tell you the truth. As you know, I am to marry the Commander, though I do not wish to do so. After we had been introduced to one another yesterday evening, I had a moment of hope that marriage to him might not be as terrible as I’d assumed. However, I ventured to the gardens and happened upon him and Lady Blakely in a most compromising position,” she told him, her cheeks flushing.
Captain Wyndmere coughed. “I see. I apologize, Lady Carrington. Any man lucky enough to be engaged to a beautiful and spirited lady such as yourself, must not be in his right mind to seek the arms of another woman,” he confessed, his voice low.
She bowed her head as the warmth of his words washed over her. Her heart pounded in her chest. “You are too kind,” she whispered.
“I know I am too forward, but my lady, I find it
quite a fate of fortune to be here with you, seeing as you have stolen my heart.”
“Captain Wyndmere, you mustn’t speak of such things,” she stammered, “I am engaged to be married.”
“I know, but to a man who does not love you. Tell me, does your heart not quicken when we are together? Do you not long for me the way that I long for you?”
She stared at her hands folded in her lap. She’d only known him one day. How did he know this? That she felt for him in a way she’d never experienced before? That the idea of his leaving her at Lyndhurst Hall today and possibly never seeing each other again drove her mad?
“I think we should be on our way. I’ll pen a note for the Huntingtons. Surely, they will understand,” she said, rising from the table and motioning for a servant.
“I’ll ready the horse,” He stood and bowed before leaving the room. She let out a deep breath; she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it once she was alone. Captain Wyndmere stirred feelings within her surely not appropriate for a chaste woman soon to be married—even if her husband to be was not of her choosing.
“Are you in need of assistance, my lady?” Captain Wyndmere asked as she stepped upon the mounting block.
“Just a hand, please,” she permitted, letting him help her settle on the pillion. He followed, lithely swinging up and onto the black stallion with ease. Being in such close proximity to him did nothing to calm her heart’s rapid fluttering.
With a jolt, they were off, and Ellie had to cling to him to keep from losing her seat. She hardly ever rode in such a precarious fashion, and she had trouble staying upright at his swift pace.
“We’ll have you home before luncheon, my lady,” he remarked over his shoulder.
“Ah, yes. I see,” she replied vaguely. What would be waiting for her behind the thick, scrolled doors of Lyndhurst Hall? An angry father, an embarrassed mother, and an outraged fiancé? Most likely. Ellie didn’t look forward to her impending arrival.
“I’m afraid, there may be talk of your reputation. I only say this as a warning, of course,” he said a moment later.
“I’ve figured as much. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I rode away yesterday evening, and I will try to explain as best I can,” she ventured.
“I know that, but when you arrive with me, gossip will spread among the county before the first course is served at luncheon,” he explained.
“You may let me walk once we draw closer as not to sully your reputation, although I believe your rescue of a young woman in distress should be duly applauded,” she sighed.
“I will do no such thing. Reputation aside, I could never leave a fair lady such as yourself to journey any length of the London road unaccompanied—even if it is but a short stretch.”
“My thanks to you, Captain Wyndmere, though I fear the repercussions of your genteel chivalry.”
“I may be accused of compromising your virtue and thus enticed to marry you and save your reputation.”
Ellie swallowed. “If I could be so lucky,” she whispered, conveying just the briefest hint of her feelings to the handsome man with unruly hair in front of her. She wasn’t even sure if he heard her.
Lord Wyndmere abruptly pulled the horse to a stop and turned slightly in his seat. “Truly then? You feel as I do,” he searched her face for confirmation.
She hesitated for a moment, before giving him the briefest of nods. Why deny the truth? He must have seen it written upon her face.
He took her hand in his and drew it to his lips, planting a soft, lingering kiss on the borrowed glove she wore. His eyes glanced up at hers as his mouth curled into a lazy half-smile. Ellie’s insides turned to mush and her stomach quivered with nervous excitement she’d never felt before.
As her face flushed crimson, she cleared her throat and darted her eyes away from his piercing blue gaze. “Whatever lies before us, we must face it,” she remarked, her voice shaky. He nodded and urged the horse onward.
Chapter Four
“ELEANOR ROWENA CARRINGTON! My own daughter! A loose woman!” her mother exclaimed, full dramatics on display as she sank onto a chaise, overcome with a case of the vapors.
Ellie kept her expression smooth and her hands folded in front of her. She’d graced the doors of Lyndhurst Hall only five minutes earlier and, unfortunately, encountered her mother immediately upon her arrival. “Mother, I’m not loose, as you say. I was struck with a…moment of confusion… last night, but I’ve gathered my wits, and I understand my duty to you and this family,” she recited the words she’d played in her head over and over, hoping they sounded more sincere than they felt.
“Oh, Eleanor! Why on earth would the Commander marry you now? You’re ruined!” Her mother fell back on the pillows once more.
She struggled to hide the smile creeping onto her lips. If she could only be so fortunate!
“Daughter, a word if you please! In my study, and hurry—the Commander is waiting,” her father called from the hall, an air of impatience and cold anger permeating from his presence.
“Yes, sir. I’m on my way,” She closed her eyes and squared her shoulders, silently praying for the strength to endure whatever waited for her behind the study’s mahogany door.
Usually, the room she is one of her favorites, with its distinct masculine feel arising from the walls of books, ornate wood furnishings and scents of tobacco, leather, and ink. But today, as the Commander, Lord Southerland, rose slightly with a small bow in her direction, the room seemed as dreadful as a judgement hall.
“Young lady, you have caused quite the predicament and jeopardized an important arrangement between myself and Lord Southerland with your brash behavior at the ball,” her father began.
“But, Father, if I may… I hadn’t expected to stumble upon—“
Her father interrupted her. “Hush, Ellie. You do not understand the ways of the world. What’s expected of a wife and of a husband are two different matters. What you saw, or think you saw, is of little consequence. However, leaving the ball unchaperoned to be returned the next morning by an unmarried man, is scandalous. You have no idea of the position in which you’ve placed our family.”
“I apologize, Father, and to you as well, Lord Southerland. I sincerely regret the betrothal arrangements that are no longer valid, but Captain Wyndmere did not trespass upon my virtue. He simply helped me find shelter and returned me home. However, if I am required to marry him to save my reputation, and that of my family, I will gladly sacrifice my will to do so,” she proclaimed.
“You sound rather eager, girl. I fear I’m hard pressed to believe that you return the chaste young lady you left after spending the night with such a rogue. Wyndmere is known for his reputation with the fairer sex,” Lord Southerland interjected, his words as hard and cold as the blocks in the icehouse. “Your Grace, might I speak a private word with my betrothed,” he requested. Her father nodded and left the study.
Ellie tried to bite back the retort wanting to escape her lips. The Commander was determined to strip her down with his heartless words, make her feel the village idiot. “I suppose you have dodged a bullet then, my lord. You no longer need worry about being saddled with a thoughtless hussy,” the words spilled out before she could stop them. He rose and stood before her, so close his breath was warm on her face.
“Oh no, Lady Eleanor. We will go forward with this marriage as it matters little to me where your affections lie, and you certainly know that mine does not rest with you. However, the connections and assets afforded me by this affluent union far outweigh the trivialities of feelings and other domestic desires associated with marriage. I have an heir apparent in my oldest son, and once I have you with child to prove the validity of our union, you may go about your merry way, even take a lover for all I care,” he said ruthlessly.
She gasped at his harsh words. “How could you be so cruel? To force me into this—plenty of young ladies would jump at the chance to be your wife. Leave me be!”
“I will do no such thi
ng. You are to be my wife. As for Captain Wyndmere? Thanks to your thoughtless antics, I shall send him to the frontlines of battle. We plan to march out Tuesday next for a final skirmish. Let us see how your precious rescuer fares.”
In an instant Eleanor's heart sank into her shoes and an ice cold feeling enveloped her. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She'd totally ruined it for Captain Wyndmere!
“No! Please, do not do such a thing! I will marry you, and I’ll stay true, just please don’t place Captain Wyndmere in danger. He has done nothing to deserve such treatment,” she pleaded.
“Lady Eleanor, you may leave me now. I must be away to make arrangements for battle,” he said, staring straight ahead as he dismissed her.
Ellie ran from the room, her sorrowful cries echoing throughout the grand hall. Servants and lingering guests alike paused to stare at the sight of the beautiful daughter of the Duke wailing as she ran up the stairs. She slipped into her bedroom and flung herself onto the four poster bed. Why had she even bothered to return?
As the midday sun began sinking toward the horizon, she lifted her cheek from her tear-soaked pillows and drug herself to the vanity. Peering into the mirror, she stared at the image of a young girl, cheeks splotchy, eyes red and rimmed with tears.
A knock at the door and the entry of a maid with tea interrupted her solemn reverie.
“Place the tray at my dressing table and leave me be,” she said bitterly.
“Yes, my lady. If I may say, mind the sugar pot,” the maid said cryptically before curtseying and leaving the room.
Ellie’s brow furrowed. Why on earth would she care about the porcelain pot of sugar? She hardly ever sweetened her tea. Curious, she cupped the small bowl in her hands and studied it. Lifting the lid, she peered inside and saw a folded piece of parchment nestled among the white cubes.