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

by Sahara Kelly

  So he was also glad of the chance to be private with Hodgkins, and couldn’t think of a better friend to have by his side than James.

  “We’re alone. Hodgkins, we need to know the truth of the matter. Anything you can tell us. Please.”

  The older man nodded. “I don’t know a lot, sirs, and that’s the truth.”

  Paul and James shared a look as they both noted that the country accent had all but disappeared. “From the beginning, if you would,” encouraged James.

  “I have worked on occasion for a member of the Bow Street Runners. I am not a Redbreast myself, but I have friends who serve in that capacity and they’re kind enough to use me now and again when the matter suits.”

  “Really,” said Paul, leaning forward. “Fascinating.”

  James, knowing Paul might well lead the conversation into more interesting but less useful areas, kept matters on track. “So you were hired recently?”

  “Yes, sir. And I tell you up front, I don’t know by who. Not even sure my Runner contact knows. Just someone with a lot of influence, who needed to find out…”

  “Find out what, Hodgkins?”

  The man gulped. “Find out about the lady, sir.”

  “Which one?” James and Paul chorused the response simultaneously, then looked at each other and laughed.

  Hodgkins shook his head at them. “Miss Selkirk, gentlemen. The one you call Miss Harry. The maid.”

  Paul froze. “Why?” His question was sharp and rapid.

  “Again, sir, I dunno. My job was to keep an eye on her, make sure she was all right and if she seemed like she was in trouble, I was to send a message back to the Runner.”

  “That was all?” James frowned.

  “Yes, sir. Apparently her well-being is very important to someone in London.”

  “So you didn’t shoot at her?”

  “Good God, no sir.” He looked most affronted at Paul’s question. “I don’t shoot people, sir. Ever.”

  “Then who the hell did?” James was baffled.

  “I have a theory about that, Sir James,” said Hodgkins. “There’s a lad taken on by Fisher down at the Inn. Pewsey is his name.”

  “Yes. He’s at the FitzArden Hall stables now, for a few days, I think he said.” James stared. “You believe he shot Paul?”

  “Can’t say for sure. But I heard him making inquiries about Miss Harry. He’s a bit of a lad with the girls, if you know what I mean, so he was able to do so without attracting a lot of attention. But I heard it. Doesn’t take a lot to attract my attention.” He squared his shoulders with pride. “So when I learned he’d got himself a spot up at your stables, Sir James, I got itchy to see if I could find out why.”

  “And did you?” James asked the question, ready to believe that Hodgkins could do just about anything at this point. He was stunned at the revelations, but they all made sense. How could he have not seen any of this? It had been right under his damned nose.

  “Didn’t have time, sir. The chance to take that carriage over past FitzArden Hall was too good to be true, and I’d hoped to nose around a bit in your stables on the way back. Maybe overhear a conversation or two. Types like Pewsey tend to brag. Can’t always keep their mouths shut.” He sighed.

  “And…?” encouraged Paul.

  “He wasn’t there.” Hodgkins shifted on his chair. “There were only two lads in the stables last night, Sir James. I heard them. So I left and made that snap decision to cut through past Ridlington. The rest you know.” He spread his hands wide. “Was it Pewsey in the wood? Could have been. I don’t know with any certainty at all. But logic would tell me that yes, he was known to be looking for Miss Selkirk, yes, he had asked about her and yes, he’d found himself a position near to her vicinity. If she was his target, he’d achieved the perfect placement.”

  Hodgkins precise summation chilled James to his marrow. “You’ve been in the military, haven’t you?”

  “I have had that honour, sir. Yes.” Hodgkins said that with an obvious degree of finality. His audience couldn’t fail to miss the full stop at the end of that sentence.

  “Right then,” said Paul, a worried look on his face. “We should see if we can locate Pewsey, for questioning at least. And then we must take steps to ensure Harry’s safety.”

  James nodded. “Yes to both. But you, my friend, can do nothing right now, but rest.” He turned to Hodgkins. “Will you need to report this incident to London?”

  Hodgkins nodded. “I rather think I will, sir. Yes. And maybe put a word out that we’re looking for Pewsey. A few extra pairs of eyes here and there wouldn’t go amiss.”

  “You’ll be staying around here?” asked Paul.

  “Yes. Working at the inn is a perfect chance for me to get a good luck at any and all newcomers. I couldn’t find a better place if I tried. As long as you ensure Miss Harry’s safety?” He glanced at the two men. “And let me know if there are any changes, or if she gets one of those women’s bees in her bonnet and takes off on you.”

  Paul snorted. “She won’t be allowed to do anything so silly.”

  James grinned. “We’ll do our best to keep the bees away.” Then his face dropped into more serious lines. “Must we keep her indoors? That will be difficult.”

  “I doubt that’ll be necessary.” Hodgkins rubbed a weary hand over his face. “For the next few days yes, I think it would be a good idea. But after that, just try not to let her wander alone? Just until we’ve done what we can to take Pewsey off the map.”

  “Makes sense.” Paul nodded. “I’ll do my best to keep her here for a bit. Injured hero needing nursing and all that.”

  “Whatever will work,” said Hodgkins, rising from his seat. “I will leave you to it, gentlemen. Remember please. Not a word of this, or my matters, to anyone else. I am trusting you with some secrets that might prove dangerous to me, should they become known.”

  Both James and Paul gave their solemn oaths and hands were shaken before Hodgkins left, assured that his unexpected line of work would remain a secret.

  The two men stared at each other.

  “This is where it gets complicated, isn’t it?” sighed James.

  “Bollocks,” swore Paul.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Letitia and Harriet stared open-mouthed at Paul as he broke the news to them as gently as possible.

  Twenty-four hours had passed, during which most of the Ridlington and FitzArden households had restored themselves to some sort of normalcy. James had returned home, accepting an invitation to dinner the following evening.

  Paul had slept most of the day, succumbing to the valerian tea made by Mrs. Hempstead after a recipe her grandmother swore worked. It had and he felt rested, refreshed and a lot less sore than he had the day before.

  Rosaline had bathed and re-dressed his wound, announcing herself pleased with his progress. There were no signs of infection and already the bleeding had ceased.

  Harriet had also slept, and now her cheeks had less the look of a marble statue and more the glow of a healthy young woman. Especially when she looked at Paul. The news that Pewsey had vanished from FitzArden Hall, along with all his belongings, was comforting.

  Letitia observed all these things, aware that she’d not slept as well as she’d hoped. Her bed was cold and empty. And there was only one reason for that—James wasn’t in it.

  This thought had haunted her all day, but was rapidly replaced by the revelations Paul was telling them about as they enjoyed a companionable sherry before dinner.

  “Pewsey?” She all but shrieked the word at Paul.

  “That arrogant snirp?” Harriet’s question was posed in much the same tone.

  Paul looked like he was trying not to laugh. “I see you are both familiar with the name…”

  “Indeed,” snorted Letitia. “He was an applicant for a position with the stables. And I will say he was the worst flirt I’ve run into in quite some time. Terribly full of himself, and convinced he could bowl me over with his charm.
”

  “Did he?” inquired James casually.

  She gave him a fiercely dismissive glare. “Even if he had been possessed of an iota of charm, he would not have known how to bowl over a slow chicken, let alone a woman of good sense.”

  “Ah.” James chuckled. “Well put.”

  “But why, Paul?” asked Harriet. “Why on earth is he interested in me? Why would he want to shoot me?”

  Paul looked thoughtful. “We theorize that someone in London may be looking for you, Harry. And that must come as no surprise, given your hasty and thorough disappearance from your home…”

  “I suppose not,” she answered. “But to shoot me?”

  “We’re not at all sure the shot was intended for you, dear,” said James in a calm tone. “It might have been a warning shot. Or even aimed at Paul if he were perceived to be your friend and thus a protector.”

  Oddly, Harriet blushed “Oh.”

  Letitia reminded herself to pursue that line of inquiry when she got Harriet alone. “So what do we do now?” She posed the question to the group in general.

  “We eat,” said Rosaline, nodding at Chidwell. “Dinner, as I think Chidwell is about to tell us, is served.”

  There was no chance for intimate conversation over the dining table, so it was much later that Letitia headed toward Harriet, intent upon discussing some personal matters with her, out of earshot of any of the male members of their gathering.

  However, she never quite made it. James reached out and snagged her arm in passing. “We need to talk, my love.” His hand was warm, and the look in his eyes even warmer.

  “Oh, yes, of course. Perhaps later…” Letitia hedged.

  “Now, if you please.” He glanced at Rosaline. “I am taking Letitia for a brief turn around the terrace.”

  Rosaline looked out the window at the snow then back at the two of them. “Are you? Well then. Wrap up warmly.”

  “James,” Letitia’s heart thudded. “We can’t go outside. It’s snowing again.”

  “We won’t freeze to death.” He walked her across the room. “Please carry on without us. We won’t be long.”

  “James…” Letitia expostulated. “This is quite rude.”

  “I consider us family. Rudeness is expected. Even acceptable.” He dragged her into the hall. “Ah, Chidwell. We’ll need our cloaks for a brief walk outside.”

  Proving himself to be as unflappable as the Lady of the house, he merely nodded. “Of course, Sir James.”

  So within a few minutes, Letitia found herself swaddled in her warmest cloak and trudging alongside James around Ridlington Chase toward the terrace. The snow fell in great flakes, melting on their shoulders, but adding to the growing carpet beneath their feet.

  “What are we doing out here, if you please?” She refused his arm and spun around to face him. “This is silly.”

  “Not really,” replied James calmly. “I needed the opportunity to tell you that I love you and I want you to marry me. As soon as possible, please.”

  “What? I…wait…no…” Caught completely off-guard, Letitia’s mind blanked.

  “No, I won’t wait. And yes. That is how it will be.” James stood there, an implacable figure, the snow dusting his shoulders and hair, his eyes filled with something wonderful as he stared at her.

  She lifted her chin, marshalling her thoughts as best she could and trying to ignore the hammering of her heart as it threatened to kick its way out of her chest. “If this is because of last night, then no. I won’t marry you, James. It’s not in the least bit necessary. You know that.”

  “Yes I do and it’s not about last night.”

  “But…” Confused now, fear crept in, making her shiver. “James, no. I can’t. You know how I feel about love. I’m a Ridlington—”

  “Do not give me any more of that absurd nonsense.” He loomed over her, his gaze on her face. “I am tired of hearing you hide behind an excuse that is so ridiculous it’s barely worth mentioning.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “You can love, Letitia. Ridlington heritage be damned. Not only can you love, you do love. You love me.”

  “I—I—no—”

  “Yes.” He shook her again. “Yes you do, Letitia.”

  “How…what…”

  “Think. Just think. Why have we spent so much time together over the last year?”

  She swallowed. “Because we’re friends?”

  “Yes, we started out as friends. We found a special friendship, didn’t we?”

  “Yes,” she could agree with that.

  “So when you wanted to learn about making love, did you think to turn to Paul and ask him? He’s your friend too, isn’t he?”

  “Well, yes. But no…”

  “Did you think about asking Max Seton-Mowbray? Or any of the other gentlemen you met in London?”

  “Of course not,” she frowned.

  “Only me. I was the only one you even considered asking, wasn’t I?”

  “Um…I suppose so.” She promptly dismissed any thought of the candidates she had stupidly assumed could be of assistance. That was a notion that had been doomed to failure from the start.

  “And you wanted me, Letitia. You wanted me touching you, stripping you naked, making you come…you wanted all these things, didn’t you?”

  She felt the colour rise in her cheeks, but refused to look away. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

  “Did you like making love with me?” One hand lifted from her shoulder and stroked her cheek. “Did it make you burn, and shiver and cry out?”

  “You know it did.”

  “Could you have done any of those things with another man, Letitia? Think about it…think about how I sucked your breasts and put my head between your—”

  “Yes, stop. I’m thinking.” She interrupted that statement, uncomfortably aware that her body had quickened just at the memory of those moments.

  “I love you. I’m not afraid of those words. I’ve loved you for so long I forget a time when you weren’t in my heart. I was afraid I was too old for you. Then I finally realized age wasn’t important compared to the way I feel about you. God, sweetheart. You’re so complex and full of indescribable colours.”

  “Oh James.” Her eyes stung at the perfection of his words. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Tell me what you feel, Letitia. Tell me what you feel right now, here, with me holding you in the snow.” He put his arms around her and tucked her into his cloak, sheltering her.

  “I feel…safe.”

  “And…?”

  She paused. “And…protected.”

  “And…?”

  “My feet are getting cold?”

  James sputtered, a sound that was half a laugh and half an exclamation of annoyance. He reached down, yanked up her skirts beneath her cloak and clasped his hands around her buttocks, pulling her roughly against him. “And now your arse will get cold too. Be honest, sweetheart. Be honest with yourself.” He kissed her, a quick hard meeting of their mouths. “Neither of us are children. And we need to live our lives not just survive them. Look at Paul and Harriet. A foot either way and we might have lost one of them.”

  She shivered at his words even as his hands on her bare flesh sent shivers of a different kind through her body. “God, James, don’t.”

  “Then tell me what you’re really feeling, love. I see it when I look in your eyes. Don’t be afraid of it. Just accept it, because I will die before I ever let another man touch you like this.”

  Letitia leaned her forehead against him, relishing the sensation of his cool hands beneath her skirts and his heart beating beneath his shirt. She considered his words, wondering if Max Seton-Mowbray’s hands would feel like this. To her surprise, she couldn’t even imagine such a thing. Every time she tried, it was James.

  It came to her slowly, like a strange emotional sunrise.

  It was James.

  It had always been James, but she’d never allowed herself the chance to realize it. She’d clung to her be
lief that she would never love as a form of protection, and all the time it had been too late, because it had already happened. Over the year or so they’d known each other, through the laughter and the tears, the little adventures and the big ones, he’d always been there, becoming more and more vital to her life and her happiness.

  And the final coup de gras smacked her hard upside the head.

  She couldn’t imagine life without him.

  She pulled away a little and looked up at him. “Oh bollocks.”

  “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

  James kissed her before she could say another word.

  Epilogue

  On a Sunday afternoon, late in November, the lights at Ridlington Chase glowed brightly from most of the windows on the ground floor of the mansion. It was “Stirring Sunday”, and—like many of the other homes in the area—the Ridlingtons were doing their own celebrating by making sure everyone got to stand in front of a giant bowl and stir the Christmas pudding.

  Edmund grinned as he gave it a good whisking, sniffing the deliciously fragrant mix of fruit and brandy. “It’s going to be a great one this year, Mrs. Hempstead,” he whispered, leaning to the side where the cook stood overseeing the entire process.

  “It is indeed, my Lord. You make your wish now, sir, then pass it on.” She grinned back, wisps of hair twirling from beneath her cap in the heat of the kitchen.

  “Right then, who’s next?” Edmund raised the spoon.

  The entire family had assembled; Edmund and Rosaline, with baby Hugh in his nurse’s arms. Simon and Tabby had already done their stirring and were now waiting for the first batch of jam tarts to emerge from the new oven.

  Letitia and James were waiting their turn, chatting with Paul and Harriet, and to everyone’s excitement, the “London contingent” of Ridlingtons had arrived in time for this auspicious day.

  Hecate drew Letitia aside. “This is quite a change from that conversation we had a while ago, dear sister.” She picked up Letitia’s hand and observed the beautiful sapphire nestled into a circlet of pearls. “Are you happy?”