My Fair Guardian

by Suzanne G. Rogers

  He glanced up as Mr. Pace arrived. “What are you doing here, old boy? Everyone was to have the night off, including you.”

  The valet shrugged and began helping Will disrobe. “Thank you, but I’d rather stay busy. It will be difficult enough to fall asleep tonight, thinking about Lansings Lodge.”

  Mr. Pace’s expression was that of man in shock.

  Will’s heart went out to him. “I understand all too well.” He donned his silk wrapper. “All of us lost something in the blaze, but you had the foresight to bring Frederick’s pocket watches to London.” He gestured toward the dresser, where the watches were laid out on a tray. “Choose one for yourself. I believe my father would have wanted you to have it.”

  Mr. Pace peered at him, as if to make sure he was serious. Then he reached out for the watch with the mother-of-pearl inlay. “If I may have this one, I would be very well pleased. It was always my favorite.”

  Will touched his shoulder. “It’s yours. And Mr. Pace, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your duties. Come fall, Jane will be attending a girls’ school here in London.”

  The fellow’s countenance fell. “She will no longer be in need of a tutor, then.” Mr. Pace’s movements were wooden as he began to gather up Will’s discarded suit. “Are my services as a valet still required?”

  “If you don’t mind continuing on in the position. The thing is, however, I’m also in need of a trustworthy man to act as my secretary. I won’t be up to speed on reading and writing for quite some time, so I’m going to need help in that regard. Would you be interested?”

  A smile of relief crept across the man’s lips. “Indeed, I would.”

  “I would consider it a great favor if you went to Andover tomorrow, to supervise the clearing of the ruins. As my new secretary, we shall have to adjust your compensation to account for your increased responsibilities.”

  “I daresay the position would suit me very much.” Mr. Pace’s posture straightened. “It would be an honor to be your secretary, Mr. Winter.”

  “Excellent.” Will nodded. “Now, off you go so I can take my bath in peace and quiet.”

  After Mr. Pace left, Will’s smiled faded. As glad as he was to have the man’s assistance, the loss of Lansings Lodge still ate at him from within. He slipped into a hot bath and washed off the horrors of the day. Small bits of ash floated on the water when he stepped out of the tub, having been caught in his hair.

  “From the ashes will rise the phoenix,” he murmured. “Never to look back.”

  ∞∞∞

  Late August

  The wedding breakfast was teeming with energy and celebration whichever way one turned.

  A large tented pavilion had been set up on the foundation of the former Lansings Lodge, encompassing the former ballroom. Oddly enough, once the debris had been cleared away, the kitchen stove had emerged largely undamaged. Mrs. Deedle managed to set up an al fresco kitchen in which to prepare refreshments.

  Plenty of hands had come together to bring the event about. The Olive Branch Welcoming Committee had organized the loan of tables, chairs, linens, eating utensils, and serving pieces. The housekeeper, Mrs. Mills, had set the maids to work making bouquets from the garden to decorate the tables and the church. The McDougal Brothers had formed an orchestra with a few other local musicians, and were playing in a corner of the pavilion.

  At the head table, Bethany clasped Will’s hand tightly as they took a moment to catch their breath. To her great pleasure, he could not seem to take his eyes off her.

  “Have I mentioned how splendid you look, Mrs. Winter? It was a stroke of genius to wear Queen Titania’s gown.”

  She beamed. “I left the wing and headdress at home, of course, but I’m glad you like it.”

  “I adore it and I adore you. I’m only happy you did not insist I wear King Oberon’s costume.”

  Bethany gave his morning suit an admiring glance. “You look very well as you are, I assure you.” She sighed happily. “Our wedding breakfast may be unconventional, but I couldn’t have imagined a lovelier one. Mr. Halliwell has danced with his wife four times. He must be in a festive mood.”

  Will feigned a scowl. “Who is that awkward lad dancing with Jane? He seems besotted.”

  “Oh, that’s Mr. Finlay Halliwell. A great deal can happen over the next five years, but Jane may have already acquired her first suitor.”

  Will raised an eyebrow. “I hope Mr. Finlay Halliwell is prepared to walk a gauntlet. I shan’t allow him to court our Jane without examining him thoroughly.”

  A couple danced past—an older man with a much younger lady. Bethany and Will exchanged a knowing glance.

  “Minerva seems to have broken down Mr. Pace’s reserve,” Will said.

  “I believe the advancement of his career may have given him the boost he needed to pursue her. All I know is, Minerva has never been happier.”

  Will peered out at the dance floor. “Oh, dear. Charlie is dancing with Mrs. Varney and she seems well pleased with him.”

  Bethany grimaced. “Is he a bounder? Perhaps I should send someone to warn her.”

  He gave her a sidelong glance. “I rather thought of warning Charlie.”

  Mrs. Halliwell hastened over to their table, more radiant than Bethany had ever seen before. “Hello, my dears! I think this may be the wedding of the Season!” She giggled. “I wanted to let you know the latest news. Miss Urban has taken to the stage!”

  Will gave her a wry grin. “I always said she would make a perfect actress.”

  Bethany’s eyes widened. “Didn’t Magenta elope with Nick?”

  Mrs. Halliwell smiled. “I believe she did, but I understand sometime during their residency in Scotland, she found him wanting and went to Liverpool instead.”

  Bethany wrinkled her nose. “I wish the lady the success she deserves. And what of Nick?”

  “He went into the army, can you imagine such a thing? Furthermore, Mr. Urban is bound for America. I suspect he didn’t wish to deal with the scandal of his sister’s downfall.” Mrs. Halliwell glanced toward the refreshment table. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I will get some punch. I’ve danced so much I’ve grown thirsty!” She hastened off.

  “I’m parched and there’s only one thing for it.” Will rose from his chair and helped Bethany to her feet. “Come with me, Mrs. Winter.”

  Instead of heading toward the refreshments, however, he led her into the garden. As soon as they passed a tall hedge, he pulled her off the path and into his arms. The heat in his expression left no doubt in Bethany’s mind what he wanted and she gave into their passion with abandon. As his lips claimed hers and his hands stroked her body, she moaned with pleasure.

  He pulled back, his eyes glittering. “As I promised you once before, the right sort of man could induce you to enjoy a great many things.”

  “It’s a good thing you’re the right sort of man.” She nibbled on his earlobe. “You’re terribly handsome, talented, and exciting.”

  “Even a little dangerous.”

  “Especially dangerous.” She laughed. “That’s why you’re exciting.”

  Will picked her up in his arms. “Mrs. Winter, I may not be able to buy you everything in the world, but I love you passionately, madly, and deeply.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, our passion is priceless.”

  They kissed.

  “Eew, stop it!” Jane made a sound of disgust. “It’s time for you to cut the cake.” She turned around and stomped off toward the pavilion.

  Will put Bethany down, a sheepish expression on his face. As they followed Jane from the garden, he leaned in to whisper. “I’m terribly fond of your sister but she has a way of interrupting at the most inopportune moments. I’m glad she won’t be on our honeymoon.”

  Bethany squeezed his hand. “I’ve never been so glad of anything in my whole life.”

  The End

  Excerpt from

  Lady Fallows’ Secrets

  After a riding accident l
eaves Sybil's brother, Ash, physically and emotionally devastated, she breaks off a courtship to devote herself to his care. Unfortunately, the one girl who could save Ash from his increasing melancholy has been whisked off to London by her ironfisted guardian. When a handsome stranger offers Sybil the chance to recover Euphemia, she dives headlong into a clandestine scheme fraught with danger. As the rescue unfolds, deceit and mysteries are brought to light, the bonds of friendship are tested...and passion is unleashed. Can Sybil manage to save her brother without losing her heart to a man she cannot marry?

  A clean and wholesome Victorian romance with a touch of mystery and intrigue!

  Chapter One

  Easter Monday, 1875

  Grantham, England

  Although dawn had long since broken, the hour was still early enough to find most Grantham residents in bed. Ashley Pepper streaked down the road on his horse, whose high spirits that morning seemed to channel the onset of spring. If truth be told, the change of season had warmed Ash’s blood as well…unless the anticipation of seeing Euphemia Exeter was to blame.

  He urged his mount to soar over a small ditch and gallop across a field, where the gently waving grass formed a soft, green carpet underneath his horse’s hooves. At the far end of the field was a concealing circle of hawthorn trees, which Ash had dubbed a fairy ring. After he rode into the center of the clearing, his horse pawed the ground and snorted.

  “I know, Raleigh, I know.” Ash leaned forward to stroke the horse’s neck. “I’m impatient to see her, too.”

  As he waited, he fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket, tugged on the hem of his brocade waistcoat, and arranged the gold fob of his pocket watch so it would hang just so. He’d slipped from the house from under Sybil’s nose, fortunately, or his elder sister would have teased him about why he was wearing his smartest clothes to go riding. He would have teased her in return, of course, and said he was secretly meeting a gaggle of Grantham’s most eligible girls. In truth, he was meeting only one.

  At last, Ash spotted the approach of a snowy mare, whose rider made joy surge through his veins. When Euphemia joined him in the clearing, her beaming smile illuminated his world brighter than the sunlight. Her glossy flaxen locks were swept up under her fetching hat, and her bottle-green riding habit showed her exceptional figure to its best advantage.

  “Why if it isn’t Miss Exeter, the loveliest lady in Grantham.”

  She gave a little gasp. “If I’m not mistaken, it’s Mr. Ashley Pepper, the illustrious poet. Welcome to Bishop’s End.”

  “How fortuitous that I happened to be riding this way, otherwise I might have missed you.” He ended his statement with a wink.

  “Miss me?” She gave him a sidelong glance. “I should hope you miss me. It’s been nearly twenty-four hours since we saw each other last.”

  “An eternity. I nearly melted with longing in church yesterday…even though we were on opposite sides of the aisle.”

  She pretended to be shocked. “Merciful heavens, you should have had your thoughts focused on more spiritual matters.”

  “If eternal love and devotion aren’t spiritual, I don’t know what is.”

  Ash dismounted, tied his horse’s reins to a nearby branch, and reached up his hands toward Euphemia. When she slid off her horse and into his arms, he marveled that such an exquisite creature could find anything exceptional in him. For the next few minutes, neither of them bothered with anything so mundane as words.

  At last, she stepped back. “Will you write me while I’m in London?”

  He frowned. “You know I would, but your uncle won’t let you have my letters.”

  “True.” She pouted. “You could always put your sister’s name in the return address.”

  “That sort of deception is beneath me.”

  “Come now, Ash.” She raised up on tiptoes to plant another kiss on his lips. “Four months is far too long without some sort of communication.”

  He nestled her in his embrace. “With another few kisses, I just might be persuaded.”

  Euphemia sighed. “I haven’t time for too many more kisses, I’m afraid. Uncle Quincy already looked at me askance when I insisted on riding this morning. I promised to be home in a half hour.”

  “I see no reason for you to go to London at all. Tell him you’ve already promised to marry me.”

  “I can’t give away our secret—not yet, at least.” She caressed Ash’s cheek with a dainty, gloved hand. “I must go through the motions of one last Season to convince him I tried and failed to marry an aristocrat. Come the fifteenth of November, however, I will be free of his guardianship.”

  “On your birthday, then, I intend to announce our betrothal. I would much prefer to woo you openly than to schedule clandestine trysts.”

  She kissed him. “Clandestine trysts have their charm.”

  “I suppose so.” He growled playfully as he brought her hand to his lips. “When do you leave Grantham?”

  “This afternoon, if I can finish my last fitting before ten o’clock.”

  “I imagine you’ll look magical in your gowns.” He retrieved a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, upon which was written a poem. “In fact, you inspired ‘Fairy Queen Euphemia.’”

  Her hazel eyes darted back and forth across the page as she read the words inscribed thereon. Afterward, she gazed up at him with admiration. “Oh, Ash, this is splendid. You have so much talent.”

  “You’re my muse.” After he kissed her one last, lingering time, Ash laced his fingers together and bent down so she could step into the improvised stirrup. “Up you go, my fairy queen.”

  “Thank you, my gallant knight.”

  After boosting Euphemia into her sidesaddle, Ash mounted Raleigh. “I shall spend the summer writing poetry for you, Miss Exeter.” He smiled. “I hope you have a little fun while you’re gone, and I want to hear all about your adventures when you.…” He trailed off when he heard the thunderous approach of horse’s hooves.

  Euphemia’s expression reflected panic. “It’s Uncle Quincy! If you gallop through the trees, you can get away before he catches you!”

  He lifted his chin. “I shan’t scurry off like some sort of thief, and you wouldn’t respect me if I did.”

  “But—”

  Quincy Exeter arrived in a cloud of fury and flying soil, glaring at Ash as if he were a marauding pirate caught in the act of ravishment. “What are you doing here on my property, Mr. Pepper, and how dare you speak to my niece without my permission?”

  A line formed between Euphemia’s eyebrows. “It’s my property, Uncle Quincy, and Mr. Pepper is here at my invitation.”

  Exeter’s nostrils flared as he regarded his niece. “You and Bishop’s End are both under my guardianship, as you’re well aware. Therefore, all invitations must be approved by me.”

  Although the man’s ire was formidable, Ash refused to be intimidated. “I would be happy to visit you later today, sir, to ask permission to court Euphemia.”

  “We’ll hash things out right now, and save ourselves the trouble.” Exeter glanced at his niece. “While you return home, Mr. Pepper and I are going to have a little talk.” When she hesitated, he scowled. “Now.”

  Ash forced a smile to his lips as he nodded at her. “Go on. It will be all right.”

  Euphemia’s lovely face was etched with worry as she rode from the clearing. As soon as she was gone, Exeter pulled a pistol from his pocket.

  Ash’s throat convulsed, but he kept his gaze level and his voice calm. “That’s not necessary, sir. I’m sure we can settle this like gentlemen.”

  “Mr. Pepper, you may be a gentleman, but you’re not on Euphemia’s level. Surely you don’t imagine I’d let a penniless fortune hunter insinuate his way into the Exeter family?”

  “I’m not penniless, sir. Furthermore, I’m a published author, and my regard for Euphemia is genuine.”

  “Be that as it may, you’re not to set foot on Bishop’s End or attempt to communicate with my niece
ever again.”

  Ash took a deep breath and made one final attempt to appeal to Exeter’s sense of fairness. “Sir, I respect you and your niece very much, and I don’t intend to interfere with Euphemia’s Season. My only wish is to be allowed to—”

  “You’re wasting your time and insulting my intelligence, Mr. Pepper.” Exeter regarded Ash with obvious contempt. “If you come anywhere near Euphemia again, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it.” He pointed the muzzle of his weapon toward the ground at Raleigh’s hooves. “Now get off my property.”

  He discharged his pistol, sending a bullet harmlessly into the soft, mossy soil. The loud report, however, caused Raleigh to rear up on his hind legs in a panic. Ash felt himself thrown from the saddle, helpless to do anything more than brace for impact.

  ∞∞∞

  Sybil’s emotions were raw as she paced outside Ash’s bedroom, waiting for the local surgeon to finish his examination. Her father, Harold Pepper, sat on a bench nearby, with his face in his hands. Every so often, a cry of pain would emanate from behind the bedroom door, causing the older man to seemingly contract into himself. As for Sybil, tears rolled down her face, unchecked and unheeded. Absolutely everything paled in comparison to her brother’s well-being.

  Mr. Pepper raised his head. “Thank heavens Mr. Exeter happened to see Ash crumpled on the ground, or he might still be suffering out there.” His voice rasped with emotion.

  “Yes, the circumstances were fortuitous. I’ll send him a note of thanks as soon as I can.”

  At length, the bedroom door opened and the surgeon emerged with his leather medical bag. Sybil could see her father’s hands shaking as he stood to receive his son’s prognosis.

  “How is he, Dr. Fitton?”

  The doctor shook his head. “Not well, I’m afraid. I’m worried Ash’s spine might be crushed. He’s profoundly numb from the waist down.”

  A whimper escaped Mr. Pepper’s throat and Sybil reached out to steady herself against the wall.

  “But Ash is only twenty-three.” She realized as the words left her lips the statement was irrelevant, but she couldn’t help herself. “He must be in terrible pain.”