Rescuing Rosalind (Three Original Ladies and Their Gentlemen)

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by Vandagriff, G. G.




  Table of Contents

  Rescuing Rosalind

  Copyright

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Acknowledgments

  Cast of Characters

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  { 2 }

  { 3 }

  { 4 }

  { 5 }

  { 6 }

  { 7 }

  { 8 }

  { 9 }

  { 10 }

  { 11 }

  { 12 }

  { 13 }

  { 14 }

  { 15 }

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  { 17 }

  { 18 }

  { 19 }

  { 20 }

  { 21 }

  { 22 }

  { 23 }

  { 24 }

  { 25 }

  { 26 }

  { 27 }

  { 28 }

  { 29 }

  { 30 }

  { 31 }

  { 32 }

  { 33 }

  { 34 }

  { Epilogue }

  Other Books

  Rescuing Rosalind

  A Regency Romance

  G.G. Vandagriff

  Orson Whitney Press

  Provo, Utah

  Copyright © 2013 by G.G. Vandagriff.

  Cover design Copyright © 2013 by David P. Vandagriff. Cover portrait by Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun; (1755 – 1842)

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publisher through its website, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator.”

  Orson Whitney Press

  Provo, Utah 84604

  http://www.orsonwhitneypress.com/

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Ordering Information:

  Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the “Special Sales Department” at the website above.

  Rescuing Rosalind/ G.G. Vandagriff. -- 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-0-9836232-5-0

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  G.G. Vandagriff is a traditionally published author who has recently gone indie. She loves the Regency period, having read Georgette Heyer over and over since she was a teen. She also has a great many fans of her earlier books, particularly the award-winning The Last Waltz and The Only Way to Paradise, who are anxious to read sequels! And her mystery fans are always urging her to write another book featuring her wacky genealogical sleuths, Alex and Briggie.

  Obviously, G.G. likes to genre hop! In addition to her fiction, she has written two nonfiction works. She also writes a twice-monthly column for the on-line magazine Meridian as well as being a guest columnist for the Deseret News.

  She studied writing at Stanford University and received her master's degree at George Washington University. Though she has lived many places throughout the country, she now lives with her husband, David, a lawyer and a writer, on the bench of the Wasatch Mountains in Utah. From her office she can see a beautiful valley, a lake, and another mountain range. She and David have three grown children and three delightful grandsons.

  After playing with, reading to, and doing crafts with her grandchildren, her favorite pastime thing is traveling with her husband. She goes to Italy once a year for medicinal purposes (and research—read The Only Way to Paradise). She has recently added Istanbul and Barcelona to her list of favorite places. G.G.’s favorite classic authors are Tolstoy, Charlotte Bronte, and Jane Austen. Her favorite contemporary authors are A. S. Byatt, John Fowles, Marisa de los Santos, Emily Giffin, and Candice Hern.

  Visit G.G. at her website http://ggvandagriff.com, where you can see pictures of her travels, read excerpts of her books, and sign up to receive her newsletter. You can also read her blog,ggvandagriff.com/blog, and sign up to follow. She has an author page on Facebook (G.G. Vandagriff-Author) and on Goodreads and Amazon. She loves to hear from her fans!

  Acknowledgments

  This novel required a bit of technical expertise which was freely offered to me by Marcus Denton, a British ex-pat living in Estonia. He did an intensely detailed beta read/edit correcting my errors and giving me the benefit of his enthusiasm for the project.

  My other stellar beta readers: Anna Stone, Anne Bradshaw, and Julie Coulter Bellon also gave me timely advice and are appreciated more than I can say.

  This is the third book I have had edited by my superstar of editors: Susan Gottfried. She not only does my final edit, she helps me in innumerable ways all through the writing process, coaching me through the doldrums, helping me with plot twists and characterization. She is a gem!

  And of course I must acknowledge Orson Whitney Press and their wonderful covers, as well as all the things they do to bring out my books.

  David, thank you.

  Cast of Characters

  Miss Fanny Edwards (aka Rosalind): A young lady from Shropshire, living with her sister’s family.

  Duchess of Ruisdell, Elise Northcott: Fanny’s sister, mother of two.

  Duke of Ruisdell, Peter Northcott: Fanny’s brother-in-law and guardian.

  Captain Buckingham Kernow-Charles (aka Buck), recently created Marquis of Deal: Former captain of a man o’ war battleship in the Napoleonic Wars, childhood friend of the duke’s.

  Commander Clark, recently created Viscount Westringham: Buck’s first officer, suitor for Fanny’s hand.

  Earl of Warmsby, Henry: suitor for Fanny’s hand.

  Lady Clarice Manton: Fanny and Elise’s aunt.

  Miss Susannah (Sukey) Braithwaite: Aunt Clarice’s companion.

  Duchess of Beverley, Caroline (Caro): A close friend of Fanny’s sister, Elise, a playwright.

  Duke of Beverley, Edward (Ned): Husband to Caro, close friend to Ruisdell.

  { 1 }

  IT HAD BEEN MANY YEARS since Captain Buckingham Kernow-Charles, Marquis of Deal, had strolled in the formal Ruisdell Palace gardens. The topiary animals that had so delighted him when he was twelve were now rendered even more magical by a frosting of snow. The last time he had seen them was that summer before he first went to sea. The giraffe, the boar, the jaguar, and . . . what was that?

  Before him in the freezing mist appeared a slender, small youth dressed in tights, a belted tunic, and a comical hat that resembled nothing so much as a blue and red striped stocking.

  “Marry, kind sir, how com’st thou here?”

  He blinked his eyes, but the youth remained. His comely, almost feminine features had a puzzled look. Upon closer inspection, Buck saw signs of a bosom and smothered a grin.

  “I am a guest of the duke. My name is Captain Kernow-Charles,” he said, forgetting his new title.

  The apparition bowed from the waist. “And I, kind sir, am Ganymede. Welcome to the Forest of Arden.”

  Buck’s forehead bunched in a frown. Ganymede? Shakespeare? As You Like It? Striding forward, he took hold of the end of the stocking hat and pulled. Out tumbled waves of thick auburn hair, descending to Ganymede’s waist.


  “Thou art Rosalind, I think?”

  “Thou dost not play fair, sir.”

  He chuckled. “You are, quite obviously, a girl. Your disguise was futile. Does your mother know you are cavorting about dressed as a boy, boldly addressing strangers?”

  “Rosalind” blushed a fiery red that clashed with her bounteous hair. “My mother is nothing to do with you, sir. She lives in Shropshire. I am sister to the duchess and may do as I please.”

  “How old are you?” he asked with the sternness for which he was known aboard ship.

  “I do not see that that is any of your business, sir.” Her eyes, an unusual shade of turquoise, snapped with annoyance.

  “You may address me as Captain. My guess places you at sixteen. Am I wrong?”

  “Quite wrong, Captain. I am to make my curtsey to the Queen in the spring. I am a great many months older than seventeen.”

  He saw that she was beginning to shiver in her scant clothing.

  “It is too cold for you to be out in this weather dressed as you are. Come back to the house.”

  Looking mulish, she said, “I am not cold. Besides which, I am meeting Jacques.”

  “If I know Jacques, he will not come out in such weather.”

  “He wishes to write a poem about it.”

  “A lament, you mean.”

  “Possibly. May I say, you are quite overbearing, Captain? But at least you know your Shakespeare.”

  “After you make your come-out, you will not be able to go about thus.”

  “Rosalind” grimaced. “I am afraid you are right. It is going to be a great bore to be a proper young lady.”

  “I imagine. I could not tolerate the life, myself.” He felt his lips twitch.

  “I was born for the stage, I think.” She strutted in front of him and gave a mock bow.

  “Horrors! Do not let your sister hear that. You must know that proper young ladies never aspire to be actresses.”

  Her teeth had begun to chatter.

  “If you will not come in, you must at least accept my cloak,” he said, divesting himself of that article.

  “Thank you. Do you command a man o’ war? Is it very exciting?” she asked as he laid his coat across her narrow shoulders. To his surprise, he felt a stir of protective tenderness not native to him.

  “Very.”

  She formed a terrific frown. “I do not see much future in being a proper young lady. I shall never again have any fun.”

  Considering this, he could not help but think she was probably right. “Are you devising some rash scheme?” he asked.

  Fists upon her hips, her chin in the air, she said, “If I were, I would not tell you.”

  “I suppose I shall have to wait to discover your plan. I am only on leave for a short time. With the war proceeding as it is, it may be years before I enjoy a London Season. You will be quite a lady by then, Rosalind.”

  “I wish my disguise had been better. Then I might have asked you to take me aboard your ship.” She looked him up and down, as though taking his measure.

  “And what a monstrous, ill-begotten idea that would have been. I suggest that all will go better for you if you can find something to enjoy about being a lady.”

  “Are you to join us for dinner?” the girl asked, her eyes glinting in sudden mischief.

  “I am.” Now what was she up to?

  “I will endeavor to demonstrate that I can be all that is desired in a young lady. I’ll wager that you will be very surprised.”

  “How much?” he asked.

  Bringing a finger to her lips, she looked skyward, deciding. Her eyes brightened. “If you are as surprised as I am certain you will be, we shall read As You Like It together. You shall do all the male bits. I shall, of course, do the females and Ganymede.”

  Her forwardness was actually quite delightful. “If I win . . .”

  “You will not.”

  He smiled. Though the Duke of Ruisdell had been his friend since they had both been in leading strings, the duke’s marriage and fatherhood had transformed him from the rogue Buck knew. Encountering this sprite had provided the most enjoyable moments in an otherwise uneventful visit. Tipping his hat, he said, “We shall see. Now, I am going to find a warm fire and some brandy. You may give the cloak to the butler when you decide to come inside.”

  “Thank you,” Rosalind said, posing with one booted foot cocked up in front of her, hands on the lapels of his cloak. She devastated him with her first smile.

  It struck him like a blow. Buck stood rooted to the ground as though the sun had suddenly come out in its glory such that it was no longer a gloomy winter’s day, but high summer, complete with birds, butterflies, and flowers.

  She is only a girl, Buck. You’ve been at sea too long. Tipping his hat again, he turned away and, dazed, left to find his way back into the house.

  { 2 }

  FANNY “ROSALIND” EDWARDS set about preparing for the evening with an uncommon degree of enthusiasm. She desired nothing so much as to knock that cocky, gorgeous captain off his feet. Her sister, Elise, had told her that he was quite wealthy, having a large purse of prize money, and recently a wholly unexpected Marquisate inherited from a third cousin twice removed. Surely, these details combined with his extraordinary good looks to make him a great prize on the marriage mart.

  But her desire to make an impression was not for any of these reasons. It rose, rather, from the fact that he had encountered her as a scrubby youth. And though she had no desire to permanently be a proper young lady, when she had to play the role, she was very good at it.

  Fanny chose a gown of ivory silk shot with silver that flattered the well-developed figure she had concealed beneath her Ganymede tunic. It was modestly cut, as becoming a young lady not yet out, but clung to her curves in a most satisfactory manner. She definitely did not look to be seventeen. Her creamy skin was the envy of her younger sister, Sophie, who was at the moment suffering from spots.

  Parker, her sister Elise’s dresser, was lent to her that evening at Fanny’s request. The woman was a positive magician with hair, and she particularly enjoyed dressing Fanny’s bountiful auburn mane. After a somewhat lengthy consultation, they decided to cut some of the hair about her face, fashioning it into soft curls, emphasizing her large turquoise eyes and high cheekbones. The rest was dressed in the French fashion, high on her head to lengthen her neck and make her appear taller. Parker wove a string of the Duchess’s faux pearls through the arrangement. Fanny admired the effect in the mirror.

  “Very nice, Parker. I look to be quite twenty years old, at least.”

  “All you need now, miss, are your pearls.”

  Fanny handed her the string which had been a gift from her father for Christmas—meant for her come-out. She had borrowed Elise’s pearl drop earrings. When these were in place, she pulled on her long gloves, and Parker handed her the Chinese fan that offered a contrast to her ivory ensemble, being painted in the Imari fashion with vivid red, blue, and gold. As she stood and looked at herself in the full-length cheval glass, she decided the effect was complete. The captain would never recognize Ganymede.

  Her sister, to whom she had confided her plan, and who thought it a very good idea indeed, had agreed that it called for a dramatic entrance. To this end, Elise conspired to send a footman to tap on Fanny’s door when all the other guests were present in the drawing room.

  When the tap came, she assumed a wispy Shetland wool shawl in the same ivory as her dress, and descended to the drawing room of Ruisdell Palace. Standing on the threshold of that vast room with its ceiling of frolicking cupids, terra cotta red walls, and Murano glass chandeliers, she took a moment to locate Captain Kernow-Charles. Perfect. He was standing by her sister, holding a glass of sherry, looking positively breathtaking in his dress naval uniform. His dark hair was swept back and tied with a black ribbon, exposing the sharp planes of his sun-bronzed face. From this distance, she could not make out the moss green of his eyes, but she remembered
well how they could censure or soften.

  Concentrating her own eyes on him, she willed the captain to turn his head. He did. His face went blank with surprise. Turning to her sister, he seemed to confirm her identity. The two of them strode toward her, and Fanny left the doorway and allowed the light from the fireplace to highlight the silver in her dress.

  “Lord Deal, may I present my sister, Miss Fanny Edwards,” Elise said.

  “To me, she will always be Rosalind.”

  He kissed the gloved hand she extended, and she instantly broke out in goose flesh. Such a thing had never happened to her before. But then she had never had her hand kissed by a marquis or a captain.

  “You were right, Miss Edwards. I am indeed astonished at the transformation.”

  Elise’s laughter sounded. “Come, dearest,” she said to Fanny. “You shall be allowed a spot of Madeira.”

  * * *

  Fanny was surprised to find that Elise had placed the marquis next to her at dinner. Was her sister plotting something? Fanny was thankful, whatever her sister’s motive was.

  “I have surprised you, my lord, have I not?”

  “I would think that was obvious. You are a chameleon, I see, and have delighted in showing me that you are skilled at any role you choose.”

  “You are far more comfortable with me in this guise, admit it!”

 

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