Word of a Lady: A Risqué Regency Romance (The Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Book 3)

by Sahara Kelly

  She blinked. “Er…practice what?”

  “Plundering,” he answered, pulling her close. “I fancy plundering your lips again.”

  Which he did, thoroughly, and with Harriet’s complete support. He was so warm, and gentle, but also quite determined, which thrilled her to her toes.

  This time, his tongue slid along her lips, seeking entry. And instead of her previous responses, which had all been to jerk away and cry out, Harriet found herself willingly obeying Paul, opening her mouth and welcoming his intrusion.

  The kiss ended on a moan, but whether from him or her she wasn’t sure.

  She had to stop this, behaving so disgracefully. But by God, she didn’t want to.

  Finally, they parted, but she found she couldn’t quite let go. Not yet. So she simply leaned against him and let him tuck her head beneath his chin.

  “We’re a good fit, Harry,” he observed.

  The rumbling of his chest as he spoke amused her. And he was so warm. “Yes we are. Here, now, in the bitter cold of a snowy night.” She sighed and stepped back. “But in the clear light of day, we both know it’s not such a good fit.”

  He sighed too. “I will get my name cleared, you know.”

  “And I will get my inheritance. What’s left of it.”

  “So until then, we can’t be like this? Hold each other? Share a kiss or two?” Paul linked their arms once more, sharing their body heat as the air continued to cool and the snow thickened around them.

  “We should not.” She glanced at him. “For I think we both know that to do so would be to tempt fate. Now is not the time for either of us to embark on such a course.”

  He was silent for several minutes, as they made their way along the path. It was more difficult now, since the snow covered some of the roots and stones that threatened to trip them. Harriet wondered if he was simply trying to keep his footing or if he was pondering her words.

  The latter turned out to be true. “I hate to agree, but you’re right. The timing is appalling.”

  She fought the sting of tears at the back of her eyes. “I don’t know how long I will be here. At Ridlington. That’s up to Letitia, I suppose.”

  “And the way things are going, there’ll be a wedding in the offing soon, I’d say.”

  Harriet chuckled. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

  “Are you jesting? Do you really think James would spend the night with a woman and then not offer for her?”

  “He may offer all he wants,” said Harriet. “But it doesn’t mean she’ll accept.”

  Paul turned his head to look at her, and stumbled, tripping and almost falling but catching himself on her arm at the very last moment. He pulled hard as he staggered, but she managed to keep her footing.

  And nearly lost it when a shot rang out, startling her and making an owl screech loudly in the trees.

  “Down,” whispered Paul, dragging her to the ground beside him.

  “What the devil…”

  “Shush. Quiet now.”

  They lay there, silent, the snow falling on them, for what seemed like years. Harriet began to shiver as her skirts dampened and allowed the cold to reach her calves above her boots.

  The silence returned, a muffled hush broken only by the occasional plop of snow from a branch to the ground beneath. She turned in Paul’s arms and moved her head near to his. “Can we get up now, do you think?”

  He nodded. “We cannot lie here all night…my hope is that whoever took that shot has either realized his mistake or didn’t know we were here at all.”

  “Let’s hope for the latter.” She gathered her clothing as Paul sat up and shook the snow off his cloak.

  He froze and pushed her down as they both heard footsteps approaching.

  “Mr. DeVoreaux… are you there? Are you all right?”

  “Good God.” Paul stood up. “Hodgkins? Is that you?”

  “Aye, sir.” The man appeared out of the snowfall, a dark shadow resolving itself into the face and figure of the driver. “I heard the shot and followed your footsteps.”

  “Did you see anyone?” asked Harriet, rising to her feet. “Or hear anyone? Was that shot an accident?”

  “Not a soul, Ma’am. Just the sound of the gunshot. Rifle, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “I agree,” said Paul as he turned to make sure Harriet was all right.

  “Paul.” She gulped.

  “What?”

  “Your jacket. It’s damp. And I don’t think it’s snow…”

  He looked down, and then swayed. “Well I’ll be damned. I’m shot…”

  *~~*~~*

  The sun was trying to peek above the horizon when James and Letitia departed FitzArden Hall on the mount James had fetched from the stables at first light. He might have been noticed, but since there were so few grooms in the stable, he felt it was worth the risk.

  She sat in front of him, sharing the horse, since it made more sense than riding two horses and either borrowing a stablehand from Ridlington or leaving the second horse there.

  Plus, she admitted to herself that she was more comfortable where she was. A ride, short though it was, might have taxed her tender lower portions. She and James had awoken twice during the night, and she confessed to a certain degree of discomfort after such an energetic few hours.

  He held the reins with one hand and her waist with the other, encouraging her to lean against him for balance. Which she was happy to do. It was an odd time, almost unreal, with the rising sun burning its way redly into the sky and announcing with the brilliant blast of colour that more bad weather was probably on the way.

  The forest was unusually quiet under its new blanket of snow, and even the birds seemed loth to leave their nests on this chilly morning.

  James was a source of warmth and her head fit perfectly into his shoulder, just as his arm fit perfectly around her waist.

  Wrapped in their cloaks, they were content to let the horse pick its way down the paths, silently enjoying this moment of private enchantment. At least Letitia felt it was enchanted.

  Her body might have been sore, but her mind was elated; she’d found the pleasures of the flesh to be just that. Most pleasurable. James was everything she could have asked for in a lover, and already her mind was spinning around how to introduce these experiences fully into her next novel.

  A squeeze of her waist attracted her attention.

  “We’re nearly there. Shall we ride to the front?”

  “No, I think the kitchen entrance would make more sense…wait…” She frowned. There were lights showing in the conservatory, one of the larger rooms they had yet to restore. “That’s odd. I know Harry was to return through there, but there shouldn’t be lights at this time of the morning. Not in there.” She glanced up at James. “Can you take us around to that door?”

  He nodded, guiding the horse through narrow garden paths to the terrace outside the large and un-curtained conservatory windows.

  Dismounting, James helped her slide down into his arms. “All right, love?”

  Worried, she barely noticed his endearment. “Yes, thank you.” She tried to see through the glass but the inside was foggy. “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, let’s see if we can find out what’s happening.” He tied the horse to a shrub and they both walked up to the French doors.

  Which opened as soon as they reached them.

  “Oh my God,” breathed Letitia, as she walked into chaos. “What the devil…”

  Rosaline hurried over. “It’s Paul. He was shot walking Harriet home.”

  “Good God.” James closed the conservatory door behind him. “What happened? How is he?”

  “Sore, I’ll tell you that.”

  The voice emanated from a threadbare and moth-eaten sofa near the fireplace, where a small fire provided some heat to an otherwise icy room. There were bowls of water and unpleasantly stained towels on several tables.

  “Paul…” Letitia rushed to his side. “How bad is it?”


  “Bastard winged me. Right through my upper arm.” He gestured to the bandage around one forearm with his other hand. “Hurt like the devil, though, I will admit.”

  “He was very brave,” said Harriet, walking into the room with a fresh bowl of water and bandages just in time to hear his comment. “He didn’t even know he was shot until I noticed the blood.”

  Rosaline took the bowl from Harriet. “We’ve been trying to make sure the wound is clean and free of any debris. Also that he didn’t develop a fever right away. A long few hours, I have to admit. So let’s have one final clean up, Paul, then you can finally rest. You just need a bandage now, I think.”

  Paul rolled his eyes and cast a desperate look at James. “Must we, Rosaline?”

  “Yes. Stop complaining.” She shot an amused look at Letitia. “You know, we might consider redoing this room as a hospital. This is the second time we’ve treated a gunshot wound here.”

  “Oh, I remember. Tom somebody or other,” nodded Letitia. “Yes, let’s not make a habit of it.”

  “Letitia…” Harriet came to her side. “You saw nothing on the way here this morning?”

  Noticing how pale Harriet was, Letitia took her arm and led her to a side chair. “No, just a magnificent sunrise. It was very quiet. Sit, Harry. Your lack of colour is frightening.”

  “She hasn’t slept, Letitia, and…ouch…” Paul called over during his treatment.

  Rosaline looked up. “Darling, have Chidwell get some breakfast put together in the salon, would you? They must be up and about by now. Tea, toast, whatever they have. We all need to eat, then Paul must rest and Harry has to sleep.”

  A man who had remained silent in one corner, stepped forward. “Do you need me anymore, Ma’am?” He addressed Rosaline.

  She nodded. “Yes, Hodgkins, I do.” She finished administering ointment to Paul’s wound and began to bandage it. “I need you to tell us all exactly what happened, and how you came to be on hand. Also I need you to take tea and breakfast with us.”

  “Uh…” He seemed nonplussed at Rosaline’s determined tone, “Well…”

  “That’s settled then,” she concluded the conversation by standing, and addressing James. “You and Letitia can leave your cloaks somewhere and meet us in the parlour. I’d rather have this story told once, instead of ten times over.” She wiped her forehead with her hand. “Go everyone. I need tea.” She glanced around. “Trust Edmund to be away. He’ll be so cross he missed the excitement.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  So it was that by around ten o’clock that morning, a motley assemblage of people found themselves around the table in the parlour of Ridlington Chase. Paul sported a bandage and sling, along with an elderly robe that Rosaline had unearthed from somewhere. She insisted he wear it because, she said, his shirt was a complete loss, and she refused to have every woman in the house distracted by the sight of his naked chest.

  He’d grinned and donned the robe, merely commenting that he had known all along that she’d received the brains in the family. He’d gotten the good looks.

  Harriet hovered nearby, her attitude toward Paul somewhat proprietary, if James read it right. There was certainly warmth there when she exchanged glances with him. One had to wonder how they’d passed the time when they were alone at FitzArden Hall.

  Rosaline sat at the head of the table in her husband’s absence, and other than making sure Nurse knew to summon her if Hugh awoke and was crotchety, she sipped her tea with pleasure and tucked into toast and jam.

  Hodgkins sat awkwardly on the edge of a chair and stared at his teacup as if it was about to bite him.

  James felt for the man, since this was probably the first time he’d sat down en famille with a family quite like this.

  Letitia was at James’s side, also enjoying tea and toast. It felt right, having her there, just where she belonged. He had business to finish there, he knew, but the shooting had to take precedence.

  So he cleared his throat. “Right, everyone. We all want to know what is happening, so I propose we let Hodgkins speak first. It goes without saying that Paul and Harry were returning to the Chase when this shocking event occurred?”

  Harriet nodded in agreement. “Yes, please, Hodgkins. Do tell us how you came to be there?”

  Hodgkins blushed. “Well, Ma’am, my Lady…sirs…” He nodded at the table in general. “It were a lucky coincidence, yer might say. Customer ‘ad a wee bit over ‘is limit of ale an’ so it was decided I’d drive ‘is carriage, and ‘im, ‘ome.”

  “From the inn?” asked Harriet.

  “Yes’m. He were jes’ over t’other side of yer place, Sir James. Not too far, really.”

  “So you left the carriage and decided to walk back to Ridlington?” Rosaline blinked. “That’s quite a walk, Mr. Hodgkins. Even for a country lad like yourself.”

  He lowered his gaze and blushed a little at Rosaline’s approving tone. “’T’weren’t nuthin’ fer me, Ma’am. Used to puttin’ a few miles under me boots, like. But I decided to cut over to the shorter lane, an’ that took me down the path where the lady an’ gennelmun was walkin’.”

  “You heard the shot then,” commented James.

  “I ‘eard a person, sir. There was noises in the woods. Cracking and the like. Too loud fer a badger or summat. ‘Ad to be a person.”

  “I never heard a thing,” said Harriet. “And it was very quiet…”

  “I expect your thoughts were elsewhere,” smiled Rosaline. “That path is a little tricky underfoot, and with the snow…”

  Paul immediately nodded. “That’s correct. Several times we had to pause and make sure we were walking on firm ground. In fact, if I remember correctly, I stumbled a bit. Nearly took Harry down with me. Right before…the…shot…” His voice tapered off as he turned and stared at Harriet.

  “Oh my God.” She paled even more. “If you hadn’t…”

  There was a moment’s silence at the table as everyone realized the implications of what their recollections had just inadvertently revealed.

  Rosaline sucked in a breath. “All right. So it’s fair to say that the shot would have done a great deal more damage had Paul not fallen. That still doesn’t answer the question of who and why. And even if it was deliberate or accidental.”

  “Can’t think of a reason to be shootin’ on a night like that, m’Lady,” said Hodgkins respectfully. “No game about in the snow. And not enough light to see it if there were.”

  “True,” acknowledged James, watching Hodgkins closely. The man was uncomfortable, of course, but James got the distinct impression there was more going on beneath that simple country folk exterior. He had no idea why, it was just a niggling sense that something wasn’t quite right.

  “So you saw us on the path?” asked Harriet. “Is that when you came running?”

  “I ‘eard the shot first, Ma’am. Then I figured I should git away pretty quick like, an’ it wasn’t much later, there yer were. Yer an’ the gennelmun, toppled in the snow.”

  “I’ll take over, if you’d like, Mr. Hodgkins…” Harriet smiled at him. “Thank you. It’s good to hear what your memories are. Putting them all together will help enormously, I know. And if it hadn’t been for you…”

  “‘Appy I was there to lend a ‘and, Ma’am.”

  She nodded. “We were in the snow, just as Mr. Hodgkins said. Paul and I had been walking fairly slowly along the path, watching our steps because of the snow. It was still falling at the time.” She took a breath. “As soon as the shot sounded, just as Paul stumbled, he grabbed me and we both fell down. He wanted us to keep low, right Paul?” She looked to him for affirmation.

  “Yes, definitely. Always go low when there’s gunfire.” His face set into harsh lines. “I learned that many years ago in Europe.” He shook off the memory. “So anyway, we tumbled down and pulled our cloaks over us. It was all I could think of to do. The snow helped hide us, I think, and we were almost beneath the hedge. After a few minutes, Harry asked i
f we should move, and a few seconds later Hodgkins appeared.”

  “And it was then that we realized Paul had sustained a wound,” finished Harriet. “Between myself and Hodgkins we managed to get him to the conservatory…”

  “And the rest is as we know.” Rosaline finished her second cup of tea. “Blood, bandages, ointment and more bandages.” She shrugged. “Just another morning at Ridlington Chase.”

  At that moment, Nurse peeped around the door to the salon, and Rosaline immediately acknowledged the silent summons with a brief nod. “Well, it’s time for me to attend to motherly matters.” She stood, and everyone followed suit. “Ladies. Letitia, please see to getting a room ready for Paul. He’ll be here for a while. Without question.” She gave her brother a fierce stare, daring him to argue with her.

  “Yes, Rosaline.” He acquiesced without demur.

  “Harriet. Go to bed and sleep. You look exhausted, as well you should.”

  “Yes, Lady Rosaline.” Harriet managed a curtsey and followed it up with a huge yawn.

  “Gentlemen, you may dispose yourselves as you wish. Paul, Letitia will send a servant to you when your room is ready.”

  With that final pronouncement, Rosaline left the room, knowing her edicts would be carried out to the letter.

  James grinned. “Hop to it, then. You heard her Ladyship.” The three men watched as the women departed to attend to their duties.

  Then James walked over and shut the door. “Right. Hodgkins, you know more than you’re letting on. What is it, man? We need to understand this situation if it’s going to be dangerous to any or all of those women.”

  Hodgkins’ eyes widened and he gave both James and Paul an assessing glance. Then he sighed. “Damn smart arses.”

  James grinned. “Quite.”

  *~~*~~*

  Paul was glad to stand and stretch his spine a little. Being fussed over was all well and good, but could get on a man’s nerves after a while. The injury burned a little, but he was very lucky. Too lucky for his own comfort.