by Regina Darcy
“Today is my wedding day,” she marvelled.
“It surely is!” he agreed.
“No, I mean it is to be the day—was to be the day I married His Lordship.”
“Then I’ve arrived in the very nick of time. Hurry; no one is awake yet, the house is dark. I’ll wait in the trees. When you’re ready, come to the window.”
“How will I get down?”
“It isn’t far. All will be well. You look so pale, my love. Have you been ill?” Tenderly, he brushed her check with his fingertips and for the first time since he had left her, she felt alive again, his touch awakening a response in her body that Lord Savile could never have evoked.
“I’m well now,” she told him, her eyes shining but not with fever.
“Hurry,” he told her, heading back out the window. “There’s no time to waste.”
She garbed herself in her simplest dress and sturdiest shoes, part of her wardrobe from her life in the country. The rich satins and silk fabrics of the dresses that had been ordered for her meant nothing to her; in fact, it gave her great pleasure to leave them as proof of the way she felt about Lord Sevile. She was sorry for her parents and her brother, but the week apart from Stephen had taught her that true love was willing to sacrifice. Her parents and brother had intended to sacrifice her, but Stephen had not abandoned her.
When she appeared at the window, dressed, her hair combed for the first time in days, Stephen was waiting. “Have you ever climbed trees?” he asked.
“Of course,” she replied.
“Then you’ll have no trouble climbing down this one. The branches are sturdy. Mind your step; the leaves are wet from the rain.”
He went down first, moving lithely from branch to branch until he was on solid ground again. It was slower going for Eliza, confined by her skirts, but Stephen encouraged her each step of the way until she descended from the last branch and stood by his side.
There was so much to tell him and so much to ask, but she recognized the need for stealth and speed. Quickly, using the trees to shield them, they walked deeper into the grove where, as Stephen had said, two horses, saddled and tethered, were waiting.
“Wherever did you get them?” she asked. Both mounts appeared to be superior breeds; one, a chestnut, regarded her with interest as she approached. The other, a black, tossed his head but when he heard Stephen’s voice, he became calm.
“They seem to know you,” she said.
“I should hope so.”
He was a stable hand, she reminded herself. The horses that he tended to would certainly know him. But a stable hand could not simply take horses of his own accord; they belonged to his master. Horse thieves were swiftly and summarily punished.
“Stephen, the horses—”
“Are well-rested and fed and ready for the journey,” he told her, assisting her into the saddle of the chestnut. “We’ll ride fast for two hours, then stop. Can you make it?”
“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed.
He had spoken the truth; the horses were prepared to ride without interruption. For two hours they rode, Stephen leading the way, Eliza following. They stopped by a stream to rest the horses. While they rested, Stephen took bread and dried meat out of the saddlebag, and two flasks of wine. “It’s not much of a wedding feast,” he apologized as he split the loaf in half and handed her a piece. “But it’ll do until we’re wed.”
It was the first meal she’d eaten in days and it was delicious. She ate everything. Stephenwatched her, his expression a mixture of love and compassion. He could see that she had suffered during his absence, but he decided not to question her. She would reveal what she had endured when there was time. For now, it was―
They both heard the sound of horses’ hooves pounding upon the ground. Eliza looked at Stephen, naked fear plain in her face. It was then that Stephen realized that Lord Savile must have done something; her response to him had been disgust, not terror. Stephen’s jaw tightened. “Eliza, get back on Bella,” he told her as the hooves drew nearer. “If anything should happen, you must ride as fast as you can to Harrow’s Grove in Kent. Ask for the Dowager Countess of Ravencroft; she knows who I am and she will come to your aid—”
“I won’t leave you, Stephen.” No matter what happened, she would not leave Stephen. She could not. She had experienced firsthand how vicious Lord Savile could be and that venomous rage was likely to be turned against Stephen who, as a stable hand, had no hope of standing against a man of wealth and power. Whatever happened, she would not abandon Stephen.
When Lord Savile approached the clearing, Eliza was standing at Stephen’s side. Lord Savile saw them together and his ire exploded as he raised his horsewhip, intending to strike Stephen.
Eliza screamed. But Stephen, calm and fearless, spoke.
“Have a care, Sevile. You’re not striking a defenceless woman.”
“You insolent pup,” snarled His Lordship, pulling back his arm, the whip in his hand. He let the whip fly. Stephen, catching Eliza, expertly twirled with her in his arms as if they were partners in a dance and the whip missed its mark.
Except that the end of the whip was now in Stephen’s hand. He pulled on it, causing Lord Savile to lose his balance and tumble from the saddle. On his knees on the muddy ground, Lord Savile presented a ludicrous figure.
“You’ll hang for this!” he warned, his voice so contorted with anger that his words were barely coherent.
“I think not,” Stephen said, smiling.
Eliza stared up at him. How could he be so composed? Lord Savile was wealthy, powerful, and influential. What hope did a stable hand, however self-confident and honest, have against such a man in the courts where goodness and kindness were no match against a title?
“You seek to make a fool of me? You’ll learn, you’ll both learn.”
“I’ve finished my lessons, milord, and account myself well tutored. Eliza—” Stephen turned to her. “I haven’t been entirely candid with you. It’s time you learned more about the man you’re going to marry.”
“She’s going to marry me!” Lord Savile struggled to rise from the ground but the mud was slippery and he slid again.
Stephen offered his arm. “Allow me,” he said.
Eliza feared that Lord Savile was about to suffer an apoplectic fit. His eyes looked as if they were ready to pop out of his head. His skin was a peculiar mixture of red and white, and his lips were trembling with choler as he tried to speak.
“Lord Sevile, it’s time that you learned the truth as well. Come, Eliza, let’s mount up. We will be returning to Eliza’s parents’ home. You are invited to join us.”
“No, I’m not going home. When I went there, they sent me back to him.”
“No,” Stephen said gently. “They did not. They were with me, my love, at my solicitor’s. When Lord Savile returns to London, he will find a message informing him that Lord Stanton’s gambling debts are paid. He has no power over your parents, Eliza, and no ownership of you.”
“But why—I went to find you, I didn’t know where you where—”
“I know. I returned to my family home to let my mother know my plans. She is delighted to learn that I’m planning to be married and she’s eager to meet you. Your parents are at home. They were not there when you showed up at your former home. When you fell ill and fainted in the stables, no one knew what to do. That’s why you were returned to Savile House.”
“How could a stable hand possibly pay off gambling debts?” Lord Savile sneered, still on his knees in the mud, glaring up at the pair.
“Don’t discount stable hands,” Stephen advised. “I’ve always been quite good with horses. I was at a ball and I saw Lady Eliza. She didn’t see me. She was rather engulfed by your lordship. I obtained employment with her family, and she and I . . .” Stephen smiled at Eliza. “Let’s say that we came to an understanding.”
“She’ll be a laughingstock when the Beau Monde learns that she’s giving up a title to wed a penniless stable hand with
nothing to offer but ‘an understanding.’ I don’t want her now; the leavings of a common groom are not good enough to bear a Savile heir—”
Suddenly Lord Savile was on his feet, but only because Stephen, moving swiftly, had captured the older man by his collar and deftly hauled him up from the mud. “If you ever slander the name of my future wife again,” Stephen told him in even, curt tones that left no doubt of his intentions, “I’ll use your own horsewhip on you.”
“You dare to threaten me? The constable will have you in shackles before nightfall.”
“You’ll find that the constable is aware that you held a girl against her will and threatened her with violence.”
It was too much. Eliza felt light-headed and weak, the events that had transpired overwhelming her.
“Who the devil do you think you are?” Lord Savile demanded. “Never have I encountered a rogue of your calibre and I assure you that you’ll soon be repenting of your arrogance. You’re nothing but dirt!”
“I have the advantage of you, Lord Sevile,” Stephen smiled, his dark brown eyes as merry as Eliza had ever seen them, filled with the high spirits and glee of a man who was enjoying himself tremendously. “I know who I am, and you do not. You will find that dirt can be golden.”
Stephen untethered the horse Eliza had been riding and helped her to mount into the saddle. “My name is not Stephen Croft,” he told her.
He reached into his pocket. “My name,” he said, taking a ring from his pocket and placing it at the edge of her ring finger, “is Stephen Ravencroft.”
Eliza’s eyes widened as she stared at the ring. It was a single solitaire, oval, deep blue, sapphire ring, surrounded by at least twelve minor white diamonds. She could but stare at it with an open mouth. Where had Stephen stolen this from? The ring did not belong to a family of stable hands.
“What have you done Stephen, where is this from?” she asked him.
“This ring,” Stephen—continued as if she had not spoken, “has been in the Ravencroft family for generations. It is our practice for the Earl of Arnhem to give it to his affianced bride.”
Eliza’s gaze shifted from Stephen—to the ring, back and forth, several times as if she would be able to discern the solution to the mystery if she were able to align the jewelled ring with the man who had given it to her.
Stephen mounted his horse. “Lord Sevile, I’ve told you our destination. I anticipate seeing you there.”
“You—you—I don’t believe you! You’ve contrived a ridiculous fairy tale to hoodwink a silly girl.”
Stephen’s laughter rang out. “Follow us and see, my Lord Sevile!”
Their horses were fleet enough that they were easily able to outdistance the thwarted Lord Sevile. After they’d galloped for an hour, Stephen—no, Lord Ravencroft—led his horse to the side of the pathway. Eliza followed suit.
“We can stop briefly if you need to,” he said. “I want us to reach your parents’ home before Lord Savile does. I realize this must be bewildering for you.”
“To fall in love with a stable hand named Stephen only to find out that my husband is the Earl of Arnhem is somewhat unexpected,” she admitted. “But I’m rebounding.”
He smiled. “My sincere apologies for all that you’ve been through, my darling,” he said. “I couldn’t tell you until I’d spoken with my mother, and with your parents. There was much to arrange in very little time. Your parents were quite startled, you must realize; your mother feels very contrite. At one point, she was urging you to marry Lord Sevile, only to return to her house and discover that her former stable hand had just arrived and was proposing to marry her daughter.
I had a letter from my mother, who, you will find, is an indomitable woman. I don’t think your father will be inclined to gamble in the future. My mother in print is nothing compared to my mother in person.”
“But we were going to Gretna Green,” Eliza said in a faint voice. She still couldn’t believe the turn of events. “We were eloping.”
“We were getting away from London,” he corrected. “I was taking us to my mother’s home in Kent, where you would be safe from Lord Sevile. But when he followed us, a change of plans was required. Your parents are in London, and we will join them shortly.”
“Were they amenable to your proposal?”
For all his youth, Stephen Ravencroft had a demeanour that gave evidence of a man who was able to pursue his ends and achieve them. He smiled ironically.
“Once they realized who I was,” he said, “They were most amenable.”
“Thank God. I am so happy. But how and why were you working as a stable hand? I do not understand.” Eliza said.
“My darling, we have met before. It was last year in Bath. You were with your parents and will have no memory of me. But I watched you all night. Right then and there you captured my heart.”
“I did?” she whispered marvelled.
“I wanted to get close to you. Wanted to find out if you could love me as a pauper, so I ensured I was hired by your family. Once I met you I knew my ruse was worth it.”
Eliza sighed. “I felt that you were the only one I could count on,” she told him. “I am so happy you came for me.”
“I won’t fail you, Eliza. When we are blessed with children, we won’t fail them. The promises that I make to you, I can make to the future. I love you and when I realized that you were willing to marry someone you thought was a stable hand, I knew that I had been blessed to fall in love with a most remarkable woman.”
He leaned forward in his saddle. “And so, Miss Eliza, might I have a kiss?”
“You may,” she said, bending toward him. “But only a quick one. I don’t want Lord Savile to catch up to us.”
“You needn’t fear him. He’s of no consequence to our lives. We’re not going to live under the shadow of an overbearing tyrant. You’re safely away from him and so is your family.”
He kissed her. Her lips tasted of innocence and joy.
He ensured she was thoroughly left breathless, before letting her go.
“Come along, Miss Eliza!” Stephen said with a satisfied smile. “There’s more kissing in store once we’re married.”
The End
BONUS CHAPTER 1:
–
MESMERISING THE DUKE
CHAPTER 1
The Rogue Duke
The candles in the drawing-room of Shepperton Manor glittered as brightly as the jewellery worn by the ladies dancing beneath it.
Despite the almost illicit nature of the activity being undertaken in the house’s gaming rooms, the ballroom was filled with many of the ton, searching for some entertainment in the Buckinghamshire countryside. Those not indulging in a spot of dancing with one fair lady or another, were busy gambling in the nearby rooms.
Their hostess, Lady Archer, had once been a well-to-do dowager, but had fallen on hard times after several gambling misfortunes. But, being ever the entrepreneurial woman, she had taken her penchant for card games and made it into a minor business. An activity that would have warranted her exclusion from polite society.
But the ton were addicted to a good game of cards.
When Lady Archer had first thrown such a vulgar event, it had been quite the scandal in their local community. However now it was seen as the height of decadency to have attended such a gathering. Known through the county for her gambling soirees, she had turned misfortune to fortune, which had to be admired.
Her gatherings differed in that both women and men could attend, and dancing and socialising was a must. Of course she did charge an entry fee, which was collected ever so discreetly on arrival.
How popular these soirees were could be witnessed by the merriment of the attendees as they swirled across the ballroom to the strains of the Viennese Waltz. It was well known that most of the women attending were some man’s wife and probably another man’s mistress. Or aspiring to be one or the other. This was especially true during her masquerade balls, during the month of love. It was t
his very event that would draw the most reluctant rake to the countryside. At these times, every sensible matron would remain at home, keeping a close eye on their charge.
Yes, Lady Archer’s was a place for decadent amusement but one gentleman looked conspicuously bored and unmoved by the merriment. His very presence was such that the eyes of almost every woman kept returning to his imposing figure. This scrutiny could have been due to his stature, but more likely than not it was due to the man himself. Douglas Montgomery, the Duke of Staffordshire, commonly referred to as Monty by his friends.
He was not only tall, but also extremely handsome. He had a reputation of leaving a sea of broken hearts wherever he went. Despite this, matrons with aspirations to move up in the world, would not hesitate to throw their daughters at him. Unfortunately for him, this was a frequent occurrence. His reputation did nothing to dissuade them from coveting the title of Duchess for their daughter.
Douglas knew that if he ever found himself in a compromising situation with any of those insipid girls he was done for it. His own sense of honour would demand that he did the right thing. That is why he avoided debutants like the plague. No, he preferred a mature woman. Preferably one that was already married and bored with her husband. The thought brought a cynical smile to the corner of his lips.
He had learnt the hard way that women were not to be trusted. At least his paramours were honest about their desires and what they expected of him. At the thought of his mistress he frowned.
Unfortunately, today he had to undertake the unpleasant task of informing her that their time together was at an end.
He had noticed the first signs of what he could only describe as affection in the lady’s rapport with him. He did not do affection. Douglas would stake his rogue reputation on his skills to satisfy any woman, however emotional satisfaction they had to look for elsewhere. His current liaison was set to get messy as the lady’s husband, the Earl of Chelsford, had recently been named Lord Steward. Although Countess Desdemona was an incomparable beauty, she wasn’t worth the hassle of having to tackle with her husband’s displeasure. Besides, as far as Countess Desdemona was concerned, he had grown restless, bordering on bored. Matters had not been helped by the fact that she had sent him three messages last week urging him to come urgently to Buckinghamshire. For what purpose, he did not know, but he would take this opportunity to end their assignations.