Myriah Fire

by Conn, Claudy

  “You loathe the ground he walks upon … I loathe the ground he might ever walk upon!”

  She giggled. “Oh Jimmy … it is the truth …” She sighed. “I’ll just have to find a way to get the entrance fee—there has to be a way …”

  Sir James looked up at the sky and the sun’s position. They had already disregarded his aunt’s wishes. She had explicitly told him to bring his sister home in time to change before the Marquis of Lyndhurst’s arrival. He shot his sister a quizzical look. “Lord, girl, you look a sight. Aunt will go into convulsions if you should walk in on the marquis looking like that.”

  “Oh pooh. Besides, he will probably be late. All high and mighty lords of London arrive late. What does he want with a poor country bumpkin lass like me?” She batted her eyelashes.

  He laughed. “You know, even a brother can see that you are a beauty, Jewels … and the marquis’ mother was a sweet woman. We liked her, in fact, so maybe he isn’t so bad?”

  “Yes, I suppose.” Jewelene sighed and then asked him sadly, “Do you miss them terribly, Jimmy? Mother and Father?”

  “Yes,” he said, looking away and into the distance as though recalling them in a childhood event.

  “Sometimes … it is unbearable … so hard …”

  He nudged her shoulder. “Give over, girl. Won’t help. It has been two years since their accident. Come on then—we have to get back.”

  ~ Three ~

  A DARK COACH BEARING the crest of Lyndhurst, together with its horses, luggage, and riding mounts, reposed aboard a schooner in the harbor of Portsmouth. The marquis and his companion, the Honorable Oscar Robendale, stood at the bow, leaning on their elbows and staring into the dark blue water in the harbor. Their capes were flapping in the wind, as was their hair beneath their top hats.

  “Don’t know how you convinced me to do this,” grumbled Robby, though he wore a smile as the sea wind caressed his face.

  Ryker laughed. “Give over and admit it, you devil … you are having a splendid time. I let you beat me two rubbers at piquet, didn’t I? And you love the salt air!”

  Robby cast him a sharp look and then said enthusiastically, “Here we go—Rye, we are off!”

  “Aye,” Ryker said with a sigh. “Devil take it … so we are. Lord, I wish I could get out of this. The notion of having another cloying chit trying to interest me in her when all she wants is m’title and m’fortune …”

  “Aye, but can’t get out of it now,” returned his cousin practically.

  “It is just that I hate being fawned over.”

  “I should think you would be used to it by now.” Robby shrugged. “Besides, she might take you in dislike and not dangle after you at all.”

  “She wouldn’t care if I were the devil himself. She won’t take the time to know me. She will be interested only in what my fortune and position can do for her.”

  “Cynical …”

  “But true.”

  “You can’t know that. I’d wager that she might like you even if you were in my position as a second son with only a respectable living. Why, deuce take it, Rye … look at you! Damned good looking chap …”

  The marquis’s eyes narrowed as his thoughts began to formulate. He put a gloved fist to his lips and said, “Robby … I have an idea … and a wager to offer.”

  “Oh no …”

  “Aye, now do but listen—”

  “No, it will get me into trouble,” Robby said, putting his gloved hands to his ears.

  “We are going to play a game and have a wager.”

  “Ah, a wager, eh? What kind of a wager?” he made the mistake of asking.

  “I am going to masquerade as you, and you will be me—let’s see who the chit wants.”

  “Don’t like it … we don’t even look like one another. For one thing … you have at least six inches on me.”

  “No one there has ever seen us … so that doesn’t signify.”

  “Yes, but … why? I tell you what—sit down, old boy … rest … all this has gone to your head …”

  “No, no, Robby. This will liven up our stay. They want to marry off their country bumpkin to a rich marquis. We will trade places. I will put up my hunter as the wager. I say the Henshaw chit will try and marry you in spite of your inability to turn a flattering line and in spite of your disinterest. I will flirt outrageously with her … attempt to gain her attention, and she still will put out her hooks for you—simply for your name and your money …”

  “You are daft, Ryker … daft!”

  “Perhaps … is it a bet?”

  “What if I slip up with the name?”

  “I’ll just keep m’given name, and you will keep yours. I will continue to call you Robby, not Oscar, so no one will be the wiser.” The Marquis eyed him. “Is it a bet?”

  Robby looked at him with a quizzical eye and shook his head. “I don’t like it, but, aye, it is a wager.”

  * * *

  At the Henshaw house, Mrs. Debbs, the late Mrs. Henshaw’s sister, paced about the parlor. Her lavender silks rustled about her short, plump figure as she moved about deep in thought.

  She glanced at her daughter sitting serenely with her embroidery and let out an exasperated sigh. “My word, Elizabeth, I should think you would at least show some interest.”

  Her daughter raised soft brown eyes. She was a slender girl, quietly pretty, whose gentleness had won a warm welcome in the Henshaw household. However, her more erratic though capable mama was wont to see this characteristic as a fault. Mrs. Dora Debbs had come to Henshaw House with her only child two years ago, after the Henshaws’ tragic accident. She had always been close to both her sister and brother-in-law, and their deaths had been a terrible blow. She loved her sister’s children and wished to help them in any way she could, but alas, a poor widow herself, she was not in any better straits financially to do more than offer a caring and much appreciated hand in the running of a severely understaffed estate.

  “Interest in what, Mama?”

  “Faith, child—I have told you the Marquis of Lyndhurst will be arriving soon, and just look at you … could you not find a brighter, prettier gown? I do so dislike this dove color you seem to prefer.”

  “Mama, my gown is both serviceable and pretty. What is wrong with this shade? And doves are lovely. Besides, it is Jewelene we wish him to notice.”

  “That is quite true, child, but Jewelene is … Jewelene, and it may be that she might not encourage his interest. Or he may not find her to his taste …”

  “Oh, Mama …” Elizabeth scoffed without rancor. She was a practical-minded girl. “What man would not find Jewels not to his taste? What man would look elsewhere once he has seen Jewelene?”

  Mrs. Debbs cast an appraising eye over her daughter, who had long, fawn-colored hair. Its texture was soft, and its shine was nothing to scorn. Her gentle grace, lovely smile, youth, and gentle mannerisms were most becoming, and while her mother knew that Elizabeth’s prettiness could not compare to Jewelene’s exceptional beauty, she also knew that gentlemen’s tastes were often surprising.

  Ah, but it was true that Jewelene’s bright green eyes slew, and her rich, honey-colored hair captured a man’s imagination. Mrs. Debbs had often seen how heads turned when Jewelene walked by, not that her niece noticed or gave a fig. Jewelene didn’t seem interested in anything but horses, while Elizabeth’s gentle ways were quite taking and she also captured the eye.

  In fact, John Hopps, the local vicar, had applied for Elizabeth’s hand twice already, but Mrs. Debbs was in agreement with her daughter that he was not the man for her.

  At any rate, there was very little she could do other than hope for a fortunate outcome to what looked like dire straits at Henshaw. And now there was no time to think more about the problem, as their elderly butler, Stanton, appeared to announce the arrival of the marquis.

  Mrs. Debbs clasped her hands and felt as though she were about to faint. “Good God … here already?”

  She turned to her dau
ghter. “I did not expect them for another hour … where—oh faith, where is Jewelene?”

  Elizabeth laughed out loud to hear her mother so frazzled. “Mama …”

  The gentlemen were announced, and Mrs. Debbs, just a bit flustered, went forward to greet them. Introductions having gone round, Ryker, who had been introduced as merely the Honorable Ryker Robendale by his cousin, asked, “And where is the lovely Miss Henshaw I have heard so much about?”

  Mrs. Debbs’ hands flew about herself as she searched for an answer. Elizabeth smiled sweetly and had just said she was sure her cousins would be back any moment when they heard the sound of laughter as the front door opened and closed and then boots on hardwood flooring as two people made their way to the open double doors of the parlor.

  All heads turned around, and the real marquis of Lyndhurst found his gray eyes filled with the sight of two very shabbily dressed young adults. A lad of somewhat above average height, on the lean and lanky side with a pleasant, oval-shaped face and a mass of wavy brown hair, stepped in and towards him, hand extended. However, it was the beauty at his side that took his breath away.

  She was absolutely remarkable, though completely and utterly shabbily clothed. Her exceptionally long hair flowed in vibrant, honey-colored waves to her small waist. He then brought his gaze up to find that her cherry lips had formed a warm and welcoming smile. She was not shy about her manner of dress, and in fact, her green eyes were bright with amusement. Mrs. Debbs started to make the introductions, and he had another moment in which to peruse her from head to toe, and he found that her figure was provocatively sensual, perhaps more so in her breeches!

  Damn, even in her buckskins—hell, this one was ravishing. No other word for it, and for a moment he wished he could claim his real identity. Even as he thought that, he shrugged such a nonsensical thought away. What was wrong with him?

  And then all hell broke loose!

  On the heels of these two youths came a huge black and white harlequin Great Dane. Its tongue lolled as it pranced, and it made its way first to the plump young man (which of course was Robby), eyed him, sniffed him, and decided he adored him.

  “Oh … oh … nice doggie …” Robby said nervously.

  Thusly encouraged, doggie jumped up to further make his acquaintance, placed his two front paws on Robby’s shoulders, and matched him in height. This left Robby speechless but produced objections from the remaining party.

  “No, Caesar!” Jewelene rebuked.

  Caesar immediately thought it best he show he meant no harm and painted Robby’s face with his large tongue.

  “No, Caesar … do not do that to the marquis’s face!” cried James, thinking of course that Robby was the marquis. He could hear his aunt crying and screaming that Caesar was killing the marquis, at which point he stopped to turn and tell his aunt that his dog meant no harm and was just being playful and loving.

  “Down, you silly brute!” cried Jewelene, jumping over a stool to grab at the Great Dane and wrestle him to the ground.

  Caesar, finding himself the object of attack, went down and turned over, offering his belly to all and any who might want to rub it. Jewels, who was already there, laughed and accommodated him but told him he was a horrid animal all the while.

  Her brother joined her on the floor, and although he admonished her, saying, “Jewels, he will never behave if you are going to coddle him,” he then merely turned on his beloved pet and wagged a finger. “Bad dog.”

  Caesar rolled over onto his belly, put his head between his two huge front paws, and sighed heavily.

  “Oh, poor brute,” said Robby, ever soft-hearted. “He really didn’t do anything …”

  Sir James grinned as rose up and extended his hand. “Hello … we have gotten off to a wild start. So then you are the Marquis of Lyndhurst … welcome to Henshaw House … I suppose you’ve all got acquainted already. Hope we aren’t too late … just couldn’t break away from a chore at the stables, but … here now.” He turned and eyed the tall, good-looking man standing off a bit to one side, and Robby blushed and hurriedly introduced him. “Oh … ah … yes … my cousin, the, er … Honorable Ryker … Robendale …”

  Mrs. Debbs waved fluttering fingers. “Please … everyone do sit and be comfortable—except you, Jewelene, as I am sure would like to go upstairs and freshen up …”

  “Oh, Auntie, since Stanton is already here with the tea, I’ll go freshen up afterwards,” Jewelene said, not at all embarrassed by her unladylike outfit. “It’s too late anyway—already caught in the act …” With that Jewels laughed unselfconsciously and took charge of the tea tray, easily pouring and handing out the tea cups.

  She handed over a cup to the huge, outstandingly good-looking gentleman she had been led to believe was the Honorable Ryker Robendale and met his deep gray eyes. A definite sensation sped through her, and she felt a flutter of butterflies in her tummy, a thing most unusual, as she had never before been so affected by a handsome beau. She found that she liked the way his long and layered waves of dark blonde hair framed his handsome face. She liked the cut of his broad shoulders and the manner in which he held himself.

  She felt taken by a sudden interest and felt a blush steal into her cheeks as she hurriedly looked away and picked up a cup to hand it to Elizabeth, who was nearest to the man they believed was the marquis. “Why don’t you give this to the marquis,” she said softly to her pretty cousin and stole another glance at the tall, quiet gentleman who had casually walked over and taken a seat so very near to her own.

  “You really should go up and change, dear.” Her aunt clucked her tongue. “You smell of the stables.”

  “Never mind, Mrs. Debbs … I have always had a fondness of horses,” Ryker said with a smile.

  “And there isn’t any time. Going back out,” said her nephew.

  “Going back out?” Mrs. Debbs looked incredulous. “What can you mean, you are going back out?” She eyed her nephew dubiously. “You cannot—”

  “Sorry, Aunt, previous arrangement. Have no choice …” Jewelene turned to the marquis to smile and then glanced at his cousin. “You understand … we shall return by dinner.”

  “But where … why?” Mrs. Debbs shook her head.

  “To see Ben … it is important,” Sir James stuck in with a look at Robby. “You understand, my lord … wouldn’t go, if it weren’t … but no doubt you two have had a long journey and might like to take a nap …”

  Ryker burst out with a laugh, “Not in our dotage, Sir James!”

  Jimmy grinned. “No, of course not …”

  “We are so sorry, but we won’t be gone long,” Jewelene said softly and smiled at Robby, whom, of course, she believed to be the marquis. “I must tell you, my lord, that I adore your mama … she absolutely quite captivated our hearts. She is so very lively, and it was quite good fun hearing the many tales she had to tell us about our mother when they were at school together. It brought our mother back to us so very vividly …” Jewelene’s eyes glistened for a moment, and her voice trailed off as she pursed her lips.

  Robby seemed to become flustered as he blushed and said, “Ah, yes—well, just so …”

  Jewelene cocked a quizzical look his way, but his cousin Ryker stuck in quietly, “Yes, Lady Lyndhurst is quite a woman. How nice that she was able to regale you with stories of your mother …”

  “We had a wonderful time with her.” She eyed the plump marquis and frowned. “You do not favor her, though, at all. No doubt you look like your father.” Jewelene sat back with a sweet cake and plopped it into her mouth, saying, “Oh, I haven’t eaten a thing all day, and this is quite good.”

  Ryker looked at his cousin and eyed him for a long moment, as Robby was blushing profusely. He turned away and smiled at Jewelene. “Busy in the stables I take it? May I ask what sort of blood you are schooling?”

  “Lightning is a pure Arabian. My father made the purchase … just before his death,” she said turning away slightly. She recovered herself and ad
ded, “He is fast, really fast. I know what they say about Arabs—Jack of all trades, master of none—but it isn’t true … at least not with Lightning. We hope to enter him at Derby this month.”

  “Arabian, eh? They make good show horses, strong in the work, but I’d not pit an Arabian against a thoroughbred,” Robby answered, entering the conversation.

  Jewelene smiled wickedly. “Good … I shall take your wager next month, my lord.”

  “Ah, a betting girl …” Ryker chuckled.

  “This is most unseemly … honestly, gentlemen …” Aunt Dora objected half-heartedly, looking at her daughter to enter the conversation.

  Elizabeth, though, remained quiet until Jewelene started to move off her chair. Then she put out a hand. “Oh, Jewels, do take my wishes to Mrs. Clay and Lyla … and, of course, to Ben.”

  Jewel walked over to her, bent, and whispered something in Elizabeth’s ear, who then blushed profusely before Jewelene laughed and stood straight. “Come on, Jimmy …”

  The gentlemen got to their feet as brother and sister started to depart and Aunt Dora began a series of objections. Caesar jumped up and padded after his most favorite people in the world without a backward glance at the company he was leaving behind.

  Outside, however, he received a tremendous let down as Jewelene commanded heartlessly, “No, boy, you are not coming this time. Stay … that’s right … down and stay!”

  Caesar sat, was petted by brother and sister and much pitied, but left behind to sprawl out on the grass and in the shade to watch his adored humans depart.

  What happens when Claudy tells a paranormal romance

  in a Regency setting? Find out in

  Prince Prelude—Legend

  ~ Prologue ~

  ACCORDING TO THE humans’ Encyclopedia Britannica, Fairy is a race of supernatural beings who have magic powers and sometimes meddle in human affairs.

  (I must agree, and I meddle more than my brethren.)

  It goes on to explain that we are well known in Ireland, Scotland, and Wales and that we are very powerful and sometimes dangerous beings who can be friendly, mischievous, or cruel, depending on our whim. Sadly, it is true.