Regency Rogues Omnibus

by Shirl Anders

  Chapter Fifteen

  An hour later, Gabriella was bathed with her hair done in a winsome, provocative chignon that allowed loose tendrils of her auburn hair to brush her nape and temples. She appeared at the top of the staircase, wearing the black velvet gown with an orchid pinned boldly to the material sloping over her left breast.

  She had been aware of raised voices seeming to come from the entryway as she approached the top of the staircase. She paused at the top to look down and investigate, seeing Drummond’s young butler standing before the partially opened front door. A door which he appeared to be trying to close against an unseen force that she could not identify from her angle. Nonetheless, Gabriella watched the young butler’s failed attempt, and then the door came crashing open with a resounding thud.

  “I want my wife, now!” Thundered a man’s heated voice just before her husband Reginald, shoved his way into the meridian and green-marbled foray. “Where is she?” Reginald continued to shout with his thin face mottling to vivid red.

  Gabriella could only imagine that this was the most strenuous exertion her erstwhile husband Reginald had put forth in years as it appeared lately that he could only roust himself enough to gamble and wench, as he called it. Gabriella watched Reginald gaze lift suddenly to where she was standing, and she faltered a half-step backward at the earnest look of loathing that appeared in his hazel-brown eyes.

  “You are to come with me immediately, Gabriella! I am rescinding this transaction,” Reginald spat, as he reached inside his dark grey overcoat and withdrew a small packet, which he tossed onto the marbled flooring at his feet, echoing a plat sound through the foray. “And-,” Reginald snapped turning to the butler, “You may inform Lord Kittridge that there is his money returned with interest!”

  “But why?” Gabriella gasped incredulously.

  “Because, madame-,” Drummond responded, completely surprising Gabriella, because she had been so riveted by her husband that she had not seen Drummond entering the foray. Drummond did look, she noticed immediately, resplendently masculine in his brown cutaway jacket and thigh-molding, buff-colored hunting britches as well as his polished Hessian boots. In fact, compared to Reginald with his wispy and receding hairline, Drummond was a sleek male lion to Reginald’s rather pallid lamb.

  “His mistress has left him,” Drummond continued to say. “Claiming, I believe, that she was mistaken in the parentage of her child after all was said and done.” Drummond paused with a steely-eyed gaze directed at Reginald. “A slight oversight, it seems, simply cleared for all when the Prince Regent himself has come forward to claim the unborn bastard child as his very own. Quite a boon for the young lady, I am told,” Drummond finished with a lethal smile.

  “How could you possibly know that?” Reginald raged. “And, it is lies! All lies! I say the bitch-!”

  Reginald was choked to a stop, because Drummond grabbed him with a stranglehold by the cravat, as Drummond stated in a controlled, but menacing voice. “You will not speak foully in my lady’s presence.”

  “Y-Your lady,” Reginald sputtered, grappling his hands around Drummond’s wrists in a useless attempt to remove the hand strangling him. “Your whore,” Reginald finally managed to wheeze.

  “Why you!” Drummond hissed whipping his arm backward in obvious motion for a punch.

  Gabriella thought impulsively, that she really should allow Drummond to punch Reginald, right before she exclaimed, “Drummond, please don’t!”

  Gabriella watched Drummond uncoil very slowly as if he were using immense willpower not to carry through with his intended and righteous, but she considered secretly thrilled, passionate violence on her behalf. To have so much control over such a powerfully made man, affected Gabriella’s insides to quiver in excitement, as she further watched Drummond loosening his hold about Reginald’s neck and step backward. Then, Drummond swung his gaze to hers with a penetrating gray-colored charge making even the top of her breasts flush beneath its positively virile quality.

  “I defer to you, my lady,” Drummond responded intently. “For the moment. However, should Lord St. John continue in this manner, no matter how overset he is beneath his life’s travails, I reserve the right to throw him bodily from our home, madame.”

  “Of course, Drummond,” Gabriella murmured with a demur sinking of her dark eyelashes as she proceeded to take a step forward in an action that would take her down the first step.

  “I would prefer, madame, that you remain where you are for the moment,” Drummond said, stopping Gabriella’s movement. “Standing beside Lord Hawkenge,” he continued to add.

  Gabriella looked over and upward in surprise to see Lord Hawkenge standing beside her with a solemn expression on his golden tanned features. Lord Hawkenge sketched a slight nod of his head murmuring, “My lady,” in a quietly resonate voice, and Gabriella nodded in return. She was surprised that she felt not the least bit embarrassed in his presence, but rather grateful for his support at her side.

  “And, I would prefer that she come with me, this moment,” Reginald spouted. “Before I am forced to bring the magistrate here to legally withdraw her!” Reginald twisted his ruined cravat into more of a tangle. “As it is, Kittridge, you can expect me to file charges against you, for bodily injury! Now, I want my wife back!”

  “How interesting,” Drummond replied.

  Gabriella moved to interrupt them with her more important question, which had not yet been answered. “But, please, Reginald, you must really tell me why. Why is it that you suddenly wish me to return?”

  A strange event transpired then, for Reginald appeared, for all the world, as if he might have just at that moment swallowed a frog . . . whole. He blurted, “Because I love you!” Then, he paused and seemed to work his mouth around some more difficult words, before spewing rapidly. “And I cannot live without you!”

  Once this difficulty appeared passed him, he straightened and tugged on the bottom of his yellow and royal blue diamond vest. An atrocious setting, Gabriella thought as she listened incredulously to him say, “There now I have said it, let us go home.”

  Gabriella turned her gaze to Drummond in bewilderment and found Drummond’s calm assurance, before he said quietly and seeming to her alone. “I could venture to expound, my lady.”

  Gabriella nodded in confusion, certain of only one thing in this calamity and that was Drummond. My how it warmed her inside to feel such unshakable unity with another person. This was how a man and woman who were meant to be together should feel, Gabriella realized, as she said, “Please, Drummond.”

  “I really do not see why-,” Reginald began, only to be cut short by Drummond’s piercing gaze and further words.

  “Silence!”

  Reginald was left with his mouth hung open, as Drummond continued, “I really cannot abide your attempts at bullying. However, we shall all be quit of this soon enough. Now to answer my precious lady’s question of the proverbial why. Why would the husband who so disreputably sold his wife to another man, in a shamefully public forum, I might add, now show himself upon the very doorstep of the man he blatantly sold her to? Now decrying his renewed bouts of love for the lady, in the most emotionally frigid attempts, to which I have ever been a witness.”

  “I say!” Reginald sputtered.

  Drummond held up his hand in a silencing gesture and continued, “Because it seems, madame, that Lord St. John finds himself in a most untenable situation. It appears that he did not tend to his business as a peer of his station ought to do. Therefore, he has misplaced or perhaps had wholly forgotten that it is you who now carry the fortunes of your estate. Not one farthing of his much smaller entitlement is left any longer. We would assume gambling has expired this amount and all that he holds now, but may not touch, is through legal marriage to you.”

  “It was you then,” Reginald exploded as Gabriella took hold of Lord Hawkenge’s supporting hand. “I should have known!” Reginald continued to sputter in fury. “It could only have been you, Kittrid
ge, who set them on me!”

  “Set who?” Gabriella whispered. But, Drummond apparently heard her, because he answered.

  “The attorneys for the Lyndfall estate. Quite enormous holdings, I am given to understand. I, however, did not set them upon you as you so put it, St. John. It was unnecessary, as the gossip over your low-bred treatment of your genteel lady-wife has spread like wild fire upon a parched land.”

  “They have even refused me entrance to my club,” Reginald whined suddenly. “All those turncoats who made boisterous claims of supporting my cause, who encouraged me to be the first to rid themselves of-. Oh, um, well . . . they turned coat, every one of them. My god, Gabriella, your attorneys are threatening to throw me off our Lyndfall estate if you do not show yourself by my side as soon as possible . . . so that we, ah, can show the world that we have reconciled.” Reginald began muttering then, tugging at his short overcoat sleeves, just before he blurted, “And, I should, I would, forgive your infidelity beside all of our happy years together!”

  Gabriella sniffled into the white linen handkerchief that Lord Hawkenge had so graciously offered her, because she had been tearing silently ever since she had completely understood Reginald’s motive for coming here, superstitiously to fetch her back to him. However, at his last words, she grew quite faint, but thankfully Lord Hawkenge steadied her, as she said weakly, “Drummond, I understand nothing of these estate concerns, but I cannot listen to any more of this-.”

  “Me!” Reginald yelled, interrupting her. “You will speak to me, not this-this-!”

  “Oh my,” Gabriella gasped, thinking that she really was going to faint, when strong arms came around her, lifting her up off her feet. To her horrible embarrassment, she began to cry in earnest right into the corduroy fabric of Lord Hawkenge’s hunting jacket.

  It was then she heard Drummond say, “Enough, St. John, there will be no more talk!”

  While Reginald was beginning to rant heavily, Drummond called up to Lord Hawkenge, “Wyndham, take her to our rooms.”

  “Your rooms!” Reginald shouted. “Kittridge, I shall kill you . . . and, Gabriella, you bitch, I should never have let your father convince me to bed you that night!”

  Gabriella heard the men scuffling as Lord Hawkenge carried her away, she did however, catch Reginald’s last horrible shout of words.

  “My God, he even gave me the key! Did you know that, Gabriella?! Your father gave me the key!”

  “Oh my dear,” Gabriella whispered tearfully into Lord Hawkenge’s broad shoulder right before she truly did faint.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Drummond paced outside his bedchamber door gnawing on the end of a cigar gone cold, in his agitation. Damnation, he cursed silently, he usually had more control than this. He never bowed to visceral instincts such as outward displays of fury or extreme agitation.

  His gaze swept over the five Archangels standing with him in the hallway, each attempting to ignore the visual display of his unsettled pacing as they faced him. Gabriella was recovering from her faint in the room behind him, with Matilda’s ministrations. He was left with the damning last words of Lord St. John ringing in his mind. Just barely hinting to him of some terrible event in history, of which he was totally clueless. But by god, he would know now!

  Drummond halted abruptly and turned to face the Archangels as he spoke with suppressed authority. “Saxonhurst, you are now in charge of gossip management. The principal has been grievously harmed in these events and I demand voices out there of equal equity. Consult with Radford who will head the investigation for your base information and direction.”

  Drummond paused, turning his gaze away from Saxonhurst and he pinned Wyndham with his glare as he continued to disperse orders. “Wyndham, you will use that law degree you are so fond of and gain me entitlement! I want the principal’s complete restitution and restoration.”

  “Brynmore.” Drummond swiveled to face Lord Duneagan. “We need foot soldiers for further surveillance, especially for the malefactor, and we shall branch outward from there.” Drummond paused, gnawing on his cigar as he faced them all as a group. “Gentlemen, as is customary, Harrison shall be our vindicator in this endeavor . . . and gentlemen,” Drummond paused as he stressed, “I demand the first taste of justice quickly or else, I shall gut the menace myself, personally!”

  Each man nodded, breaking apart to follow their orders. He had kept them up to date so far and they each knew from past experiences, what he required of them. Only Harrison hesitated in his withdrawal and instead came to his side.

  “This has become even more personal?” Harrison asked.

  “Yes,” Drummond replied in a clipped voice. “We will obtain the principle’s freedom by any means.” Drummond paused and took a harsh breath. “However, we will entertain all avenues, before I set the final course of action.” Drummond gazed frothily at Harrison. “If only for my lady’s sake, I will entertain lesser mercenary means. But, I shall have her, Harrison, freely and clearly as my own.”

  Gabriella stepped away from the opposite side of the closed door and hurried back to the bed, before Matilda could return and find that she had been eavesdropping. Was she the principal, Gabriella wondered as she laid down on the bed? Was it she, whose freedom Drummond was seeking? Then, her mind leaped forward, wondering excitedly; could he? She had not understood most of what Drummond had said, except it seemed as though he would help to secure the estate she supposedly held. How odd that her father would do such a thing. However, she clearly remembered her father begging her forgiveness on his deathbed, and she had given it to the deflated and repentant old man, in his last breaths. Perhaps he had come beyond the grave to seek his redemption as if money or land could ever buy back-.

  “Madame . . . Gabriella.”

  Gabriella turned her head to see Drummond moving toward her with his special brand of fluent male grace.

  “Drummond,” Gabriella whispered as Drummond took her hand and sat beside her on the bed, immediately stroking her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Did you do all of it, Drummond?” Gabriella asked.

  “Hm,” he murmured, bending closer to kiss her temple, where he said, “Perhaps the bit about the prince regent, love. Priny does owe me a few favors and laments how he will ever repay them. However the rest, although completely expected, was truly gossip sparring from the events.”

  “Oh, Drummond,” Gabriella sighed, and then she murmured in wonder, “The prince.”

  “For you, my love,” Drummond replied as he kissed her cheek, and then the corner of her mouth. “Anything.”

  Gabriella caught Drummond’s mouth soundly with her lips, languishing in a deep kiss before Drummond pulled away to look at her closely. “And now, my love, I believe you owe me a secret.”

  Gabriella lightly caressed the chiseled bone of Drummond’s jaw with her fingertips, as she asked, “Must we, Drummond? It was so long ago.”

  Drummond’s long and slightly roughened finger pad pressed against her lips, silencing her as he answered, “We must, Gabriella. I must.”

  Gabriella understood then, more than she had before. Drummond hurt as she hurt. He needed to understand that she had not willingly turned away from their fledgling love all those years ago. Gabriella stroked Drummond’s chin with her thumb, feeling his strong cheekbone with her fingertips.

  “Yes I will, Drummond, but you must let me tell you in my own way.” Gabriella paused and traced Drummond’s full bottom lip with the soft edge of her fingernail. “And, I owe you a meal first. A dinner that I would prepare. A meal for just you and I.”

  Drummond’s smile was very slow and filled with sensuous promise. “A meal, a secret, and then perhaps after we shall entertain dessert.”

  Drummond left her then with the promise of his lips still warming hers. She would have the day to plan . . . to decide, and in the end to try on her own to shake the sensual master’s world. Could she do it? She would have to be very brave!

  Chapter Seventeen

&nb
sp; At precisely seven o’clock, Gabriella was standing outside of Drummond’s study, repeating the litany, “seize the day,” in her mind.

  Oh, she could not do this, Gabriella thought nervously, pressing her forehead to the cool wood paneling of the door. The Archangels were gone on their separate duties for Drummond so she and Drummond were alone. All day she had boldly planned this, until now she stood here hesitating in her inborn shyness.

  Abruptly, Gabriella exclaimed in fierce whispering, “I have wasted twenty-five years. I love him and will not waste another moment!” Her hand reached for the doorknob bravely. “I will not!”

  Gabriella swept into the room as regally as she could muster with her bare feet and her hair tumbling down around her mink-covered shoulders. It was time for her to attempt to seduce the master. Drummond’s head lifted from what he had been studying upon his desk and Gabriella noted with satisfaction that her unexpected entrance had surprised him. Drummond’s gifted gray eyes moved slowly to study her appearance, sliding over her unbound hair, her entire petite stature folded inclusively in the sable colored mink— to finally rest, for long moments on her bare feet with their crimson painted toenails. He was intrigued and it heightened the air in the room between them. Gabriella finished shutting the door firmly behind her and ran the tip of her tongue over the edge of her lightly rouged lips, to dampen them.

  “I have a confession to make,” she said lightly, moving further into the room.

  “You do,” Drummond murmured, leaning back in his chair as his gaze tracked her approaching movements. He had obviously been passing the time waiting in his study for the dinner hour to arrive. He was dressed elegantly in his crisp black evening attire. His ruby stud, blinked blood-red in his earlobe, as she stopped in front of his desk.

  “I have given all of your servants the evening off . . . every last one,” Gabriella said, as she stroked the front edge of her mink wrap with her long red fingernails.