The Revenge of the Betrayed Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  The bartender looked up at him with a smile. “What can I get you, Your Lordship?”

  “Just a beer,” Edward said amicably. “Charles, was it?”

  The man bobbed his head up and down as he fetched Edward’s drink. “It is indeed. I am most honoured that you remembered from the last time we spoke.”

  “As good a beer as this deserves to be remembered, along with the person who bestowed it upon me,” Edward said with a smile as he paid the man for the beer.

  Charles, the bartender, gladly took the money as he deposited the mug of beer in front of the nobleman. “Always a pleasure,” Charles said as he went back to scrubbing.

  Edward made his way back to the table with his mug of beer. He sat down, took a sip, and made an appreciative sound. “That does feel better,” Edward said.

  “Hits the spot,” Augustus agreed.

  ***

  James groaned inwardly when he came down the stairs to find Edward nursing his beer. Oscar looked over the top of Edward’s head and grinned at James. James put on a grin of his own as he approached the table and slapped Edward on the back.

  “Good of you to join us, Edward,” James said with forced humour.

  Edward looked around at James and said, “Nice of you to join us as well.”

  “Now, now, Cousin Dear,” James said with a cluck of his tongue. “Do not be so austere. You will never find a good husband that way.”

  Oscar bellowed with laughter as Edward frowned at James. Oscar said, “Men like an agreeable lass.” Oscar nudged Edward a bit too hard with his elbow, and James was amused at the way Edward jostled a bit to the side while hastily putting his beer down.

  “Now see here, Oscar,” Edward chastised.

  Oscar slapped the table. “Sorry,” he said with a chortle of laughter. “I guess that I did not really need that last beer.” The man’s words slurred together somewhat, and James shook his head at him.

  James leaned on the back of his own chair for a moment as he eyed Edward. When the moment passed, James sat down heavily on his chair. He took a large gulp of the beer he had left earlier to go off with Rosalyn. James savored the feel of the liquid on his throat after his exertions.

  “I trust you have spent all your restless energy and now can focus on the journey ahead of us?” Edward asked James. Augustus turned towards James as if he too were eager to hear James’ answer.

  James nodded. “Ready as the rain,” he quipped back at Edward. Although he and Edward were the farthest of cousins, they had always given each other a bit of ribbing about it. While Edward’s father was a Duke, James’ father was an Earl. Edward did not have to say that his father was better than James’ father. James saw it in everything that Edward did.

  Edward was eyeing James curiously, but James looked over at Augustus who was still looking at James. Augustus asked, “What of the lass?”

  “What of her?” James asked. He knew that Augustus was after details, but James was not in the mood for retelling any devious deeds at the moment.

  Augustus frowned. “You were nice to the lass, were you not? She seemed like a lovely girl.”

  “You seem very fond of the girl,” James noted. “Even going so far as to warn me off when I asked after her. Do you fancy her a bit then?”

  Augustus waved off the idea. “I just know how you can sometimes be. She seemed amicable enough to me. It is not like you forced her hand.”

  “I do believe that Gustus just called me something vile,” James said with a chortle of laughter.

  Oscar grinned. “He is just a bit jealous, is all.”

  “I would think that you all would be thinking about what we are about to do, rather than some barmaid,” Edward said disparagingly.

  Oscar frowned at his friend, but it was James who spoke up. “Perhaps that is the whole reason to talk more of barmaids. We are all just into our nineteenth years in this world, Edward. I think we can be allowed a bit of jest to calm our nerves.”

  “Of course,” Edward said softly. “I did not mean that you should not—forgive me. I am just still thinking of Emily.”

  Augustus asked, “Did she not take it well?”

  “Not well at all,” Edward said softly. “I asked her to marry me when I return.” Edward clasped his hands around his mug of beer and looked up at Augustus who slapped him on the shoulder.

  Augustus said jokingly, “Let me guess, she turned you away.”

  “She actually accepted,” Edward said as he furrowed his eyebrows. “Leaving her this way seems callous.”

  Augustus shouted with merriment, “You should be celebrating! Emily is a fine young lady. She will wait for you.”

  “Indeed! Congratulations,” Oscar said as he reached over to place his own slap on Edward’s other shoulder.

  James alone remained silent. He had not needed Edward’s haphazard announcement. James had seen the proposal first-hand, not that Edward knew that. He also had no interest in celebrating such a heinous thing as Emily marrying Edward.

  “Don’t you think, James?” Augustus asked, and James looked at him in confusion. Clearly, the man had been talking to him, but James had been lost in thought. Augustus clarified, “Do you not think that Edward will make a fine officer?”

  James nodded slowly. “Yes, I think he will,” James said and wished that he did not think so. It was the truth, though. Edward had a way about him that was calm and reasonable which to many was the mark of a leader. James knew that he would show them all that he was the one that really was the true leader. Oscar and Augustus followed his words well enough, and why should not others? James smiled at Edward. “Worry not. You will come home a war hero,” James said as he raised his glass.

  Oscar and Augustus quickly joined James in the toast and drank merrily after. Edward’s eyes, however, stayed on James. James met Edward’s eyes and gave the man a dip of his head and a smile. He did not even care if Edward saw the malice behind the words. What could he do now that they were all headed off to fight?

  Chapter 3

  They met the coaches that would take them to their ferry crossing that afternoon. Edward was sorely tempted at every point to just make his way home, but he chose to stay by the side of his friends. After all, they had grown up together, and if something happened to them, how would Edward live with himself? Emily would be safe and sound at home, after all.

  The thought that Emily would be safe and away from all of it consoled Edward more than anything. At first, the coach’s occupants were happy to converse on any number of subjects, but slowly everyone grew quieter as fatigue took over. It was either fatigue or the thoughts of what lay ahead of them that finally sobered even Oscar who looked out of the carriage window with resignation.

  The ferry ride was interesting, at least to Edward. He watched the water pass beneath them as night caught up to them on their journey. The night would be spent in a small town on the other side of the water they now swept across at a leisurely pace. Soon enough, they would be in France, even if nothing more than the fringes of it.

  “I heard there are water serpents,” Augustus said fascinated as he peered over into the water beside the ferryman.

  The man laughed as he tugged at his beard. He looked at the young men he was ferrying across the channel to France. “You are heading off to fight, am I right?”

  Augustus nodded. “That is right,” he agreed solemnly.

  “Why worry over a serpent when you could face a musket in a day’s time?” The ferryman eyed Augustus curiously.

  For his part, Augustus just shrugged. “I think that maybe dying from a water serpent might be more pleasant.”

  The ferryman chuckled and shook his head. “You might be right, but if you do choose to give yourself to the watery deep, I would be obliged if you waited and threw yourself off the shore. I would like to keep myself unacquainted with water serpents.”

  Edward turned away from Augustus and the ferryman. The paddle steamer was a usual craft to Edward. He had not been on one before, and
he admired the vessel. A little thought in his head reminded him that it might be the last time he was on one, but Edward pushed the thought away.

  “Even being out in the channel likes me not,” James said as he came to stand beside Edward.

  Edward nodded his understanding. James had always had a weak stomach when it came to the lobs and rolls of the waves. The man barely could stand being out on the lakes back home, let alone out in the channel with its waves that pushed the boat up and down.

  “Buck up,” Edward said in a chipper voice. “It is not that far across, and then you can sleep.”

  James nodded. “I would like to sleep very much.” He looked over at Edward who just smiled at him. “How can you look so rested?”

  “I slept in the carriage,” Edward said simply as he leaned against the boat railing. “The moon is coming up.”

  James looked out the way that Edward pointed. “Sliver of a thing it is,” James said as he squinted at the waning moon coming up above the horizon. “Give it a couple of days, and it will just fade away.”

  “Ah, but it will be back,” Edward said with a smile. He had at one point in his youth studied the movements of the moon and recorded them in his journals. That was many years ago when lofty ideas appealed more to Edward than a pretty face or such trite notions as honour.

  James chided, “You and your fanciful interests.”

  Edward chose to let the comment go by without replying to it. James often goaded Edward, and it did little good to call him on it. To Edward’s mind, James had been even more grating than normal since the tavern. There was something about the way James watched him that left Edward a bit uneasy.

  The silly unease was not something that Edward pondered over too long. He did not have the luxury of that. The ferry would arrive soon at the dock, and Edward turned his mind towards where they would sleep. There was an inn that was set up as a way station for soldiers entering France to join the front.

  At the docks, a young man ran out along the dock and caught the line that the ferryman sent hurtling his way. Edward admired the young man’s graceful catch, as he could just barely see the line in the dim moonlight. The ferryman turned to them. “Well, here you are boys. Do try and get some sleep, those of you that aren’t going to sleep with the sea serpents, of course.”

  Augustus laughed and clapped the ferryman on the shoulder as he went down the board the man had put across to the dock. Edward followed Augustus’ lead and soon was walking down the docks towards a little town that was no bigger than any country village in England. The difference was there were tents scattered around the town as well, making it look larger.

  “To the inn, boys,” James said enthusiastically. Augustus and Oscar were swiftly behind James as they followed him down what looked to be the likely way. Edward trailed along behind them eyeing the tents. They were probably set up to house English soldiers, Edward mused.

  At the inn, they were turned away and told of a tent they could sleep in for the night. They were a bit disheartened as they tromped to the tent in question. “Might as well get used to it, I guess,” Edward said as James slipped inside the tent. It would fit them comfortably enough, but James looked displeased all the same.

  “We’re expected to sleep here?” James asked with disgust as he eyed the blankets.

  Augustus yawned and sat down heavily. “I would sleep in a ditch right now. “

  “You know you will have to sleep in a tent once you get put in a regiment?” Oscar asked with a chuckle. James scowled over at him, and Oscar added, “Better than Gustus and I; we shall just have our packs and bedrolls.”

  James said, “I am just not used to it.”

  Augustus had already rolled over into his blankets at the far end of the tent and was softly snoring. Edward chuckled. “I think we should all follow Augustus’ example and get some sleep.”

  ***

  The regiment to which they were assigned marched for three days straight into a region in southern France that James despised more with each passing day. After the march, they aided another regiment in securing a small town, which consisted of just a bit of fighting. James barely saw any of it.

  Augustus and Oscar complained greatly, and James found it grated on his nerves more each day he heard their whining. James had come to the conclusion that his commission paid for little more than the title itself. He held very little power. Oscar and Augustus had been placed under James’ watch.

  Edward had his own men to look after. James watched Edward fall into the role of leader as if it was a well-worn boot. James had only known his father as an authority figure, a bellowing figure of a man who struck fear into most all that crossed him. Leading men was a lot different than simply telling them where to go and what to do when you got there.

  A couple of weeks into their first march, and just after having gotten his command, James and his crew of men were pinned down by musket fire while trying to take a hill. It was all they could do to get down and take cover. James shouted over at a man named Clark, “Give us cover so we can retreat!”

  “Then what am I supposed to do?” Clark asked. The young man was younger than James and was a simple soldier. He had signed up to get away from the life of a street peddler as the army was a better prospect than life on the streets back home. Now the young man looked at James with wide eyes.

  James sighed. “Just do it, Clark. We will give you cover fire once we are in our new position.” It was simple. It was easy. That was what James kept telling himself. He just had to keep telling himself that so that he kept his nerve and kept the men calm.

  Augustus and Oscar nodded along. “Just tell us when,” Oscar said confidently. With Augustus and Oscar behind him, the other men in the troop quickly nodded along as well.

  James felt more confident, and he looked over at Clark. “When you are ready.”

  Clark took a breath that James figured was to steady the boy’s shaky hands. Clark lifted the musket and aimed it back up the hill where the fire had come from. James motioned for the others to get ready. Clark gave them an opening shot, and the troop took off. It took a moment to reload the musket before another shot rang out. James wished he had left two or three men as a shot hit the ground near him.

  “He can’t keep them off of us,” Oscar panted beside James.

  James growled, “Just run.”

  When they finally dove behind the trees, the men swiftly turned to open fire, but Clark was down. James could just see the man’s arm lying along the ground. “Do you think he is dead?” Augustus asked urgently.

  “Probably,” James said. “If he is not, then he will be. They are coming down the hill. Where is Henry?”

  There was a murmur before someone shouted, “He is on the hillside. He got shot.”

  James cursed under his breath. “We have to go,” he said.

  “But Henry is alive,” the person said.

  James turned to the speaker, and the man shrunk back. “They are coming down to kill us. Better Henry dies than all of us.”

  Slowly the men nodded, but they left with slumping shoulders and quiet tongues. After their forced retreat, they made haste to the regiment camp to report what had happened. James told the major what happened, and while the man accepted what he said, James thought that some of his men must have talked about Henry because eyes followed him with a glint of resentment.

  Was that real? Or was it just his tired imagination? James hardly knew. He sank down on his bedroll too tired to think much about anything let alone things that could be just in his head.