With His Lady's Assistance (The Regent Mysteries Book 1)

by Cheryl Bolen

  What the Critics Say about With His Lady’s Assistance

  A delightful Regency romance. . .The mystery is nicely done, the romance is enchanting, and the secondary character are enjoyable" 4 Stars. Romantic Times

  Bolen is a masterful storyteller who brings us enchanting love stories that offer fresh outlooks on love, while combining humor and mystery" – Regency Inkwell

  This book is funny, sweet, romantic, mysterious, and historical. . . .I found myself laughing out loud several times. – The Indie Bookshelf

  * * *

  With His Lady's Assistance...

  The Prince Regent recruits Wellington's best spy, Captain Jack Dryden, to find out who's trying to murder him. But in order to mix in the highest echelons of English society, the exceedingly handsome spy must feign an engagement to the prodigiously plain spinster Lady Daphne Chalmers. As this unlikely couple's investigation deepens, so does their attraction to one another.

  Cheryl Bolen’s Books

  Regency Historical Romance:

  The Regent Mysteries Series

  With His Lady's Assistance (Book 1)

  A Most Discreet Inquiry (Book 2)

  The Theft Before Christmas (Book 3)

  An Egyptian Affair (Book 4)

  Brazen Brides Series

  Counterfeit Countess (Book 1)

  His Golden Ring (Book 2)

  Oh What A (Wedding) Night (Book 3)

  Miss Hastings’ Excellent London Adventure (Book 4)

  A Birmingham Family Christmas (Book 5)

  House of Haverstock Series

  Lady by Chance (Book 1)

  Duchess by Mistake (Book 2)

  Countess by Coincidence (Book 3)

  Ex-Spinster By Christmas (Book 4)

  The Brides of Bath Series

  The Bride Wore Blue (Book 1)

  With His Ring (Book 2)

  The Bride’s Secret (Book 3)

  To Take This Lord (Book 4)

  Love In The Library (Book 5)

  A Christmas in Bath (Book 6)

  Pride and Prejudice Sequels

  Miss Darcy’s New Companion

  Miss Darcy’s Secret Love

  The Liberation of Miss de Bourgh

  My Lord Wicked

  Christmas Brides (Three Regency Novellas)

  Marriage of Inconvenience

  A Duke Deceived

  Romantic Suspense:

  Texas Heroines in Peril Series

  Protecting Britannia

  Murder at Veranda House

  A Cry In The Night

  Capitol Offense

  Falling For Frederick

  World War II Romance:

  It Had to Be You (Previously titled Nisei)

  American Historical Romance:

  A Summer To Remember (3 American Romances)

  With His Lady's Assistance

  (The Regent Mysteries, Book 1)

  By

  Cheryl Bolen

  Copyright © 2011 by Cheryl Bolen

  With His Lady's Assistance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  The Regent Mysteries Series

  Chapter 1

  Obviously there was some mistake. The Prince Regent must be going as daft as his poor father. Yes, Captain Jack Dryden decided, that could explain the peculiar summons he had received. The regent was likely dicked in the nob. But since a lowly army captain could ill afford to refuse a royal summons, Jack had been forced to leave important work in Portugal, make a wretched sea voyage, and now found himself in front of the regent's lavishly colonnaded London residence presenting--not without resentment--his papers to one of a pair of Life Guards who stood on either side of the entrance gate.

  As the soldier perused the documents, Jack shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eying the other Guard who stood straight as a poker within his three-sided sentry's hut on the opposite side of the gate. At any second Jack expected to be accused of forging the royal seal. But no such occurrence happened.

  "Go right this way, sir," the Guard said, pointing to the porticoed entry to Carlton House.

  As Jack strode into the courtyard and up to the mansion's huge portico, his heartbeat began to thump. He had been far less nervous on covert missions behind enemy lines than he was today. Even last spring when he had to infiltrate a French camp north of Madrid, his rudimentary command of the enemy's language was not nearly as frightening as this mysterious command from the British monarch.

  Why would the English ruler wish to have a private audience with Captain Jack Dryden? It wasn't as if a mere army captain would merit royal attention. Perhaps the monarch had been ill advised. Someone, no doubt, had mistaken Jack for another officer, perhaps one who had performed some exemplary act of valor. Or perhaps someone had confused the captain with an officer due a reprimand.

  Jack had applied his heretofore reliable memory to the task of determining if another officer on the Peninsula had a name similar to Jack Dryden, but he was unable to come up with a single name which bore resemblance to his own rather ordinary moniker.

  Then Jack had set his mind to theorizing situations which might explain the regent's desire to have a private meeting with Jack Dryden, captain in the Fourteenth Light Dragoons. Each theory always brought him back to the same conclusion: only a superior officer--not the reigning monarch--would reward good conduct or punish offensive acts. Therefore, each thwarted theory convinced Jack the regent had truly gone mad.

  Dressed in his regimentals, his sweeping bicorn hat tucked beneath his arm, Jack entered a granite green corridor that delivered him into the most elegant--and vast--chamber he'd ever seen. Rows of marble columns supported a ceiling that soared to a painted glass dome. Beneath the dome--a story above where Jack stood--was an octagon vestibule with many doorways he assumed led to private apartments. From where he stood, a grand, iron and brass double stairway curved up to the next floor. At once Jack understood why the regent's house was said to rival the Palace of Versailles.

  Jack should have felt at home among all these soldiers milling about the grand assembly room. But he didn't. Cupping his palm over the hilt of his gleaming sword and holding the regent's summons in his white-gloved hand, Jack had never felt more a fish out of water. He was rather in a quandary as to what exactly he should do next.

  A Life Guard stiffly stepped forward. "Are you Cap'n Dryden?"

  Surprised, Jack nodded and once again presented his papers.


  The Guard looked over them. "His Majesty's expecting you, sir. Allow me to show you the way."

  Jack trailed the guard through a series of marble hallways that were opulently gilded and adorned with paintings from old Italian masters. The Life Guard came to a stop in front of a pair of massive doors painted in the Renaissance style, like the other doors they had passed. The Guard faced Jack, his eyes level with the captain's chest. "The regent awaits in the Throne Room. Through these doors, sir."

  Jack wondered if this was the infamous Blue Velvet room.

  He thanked the Life Guard, stepped forward, and took the gilt knob in his hand. He drew a deep breath and opened the door.

  The chamber he stepped into was completely incongruous with the classical form of the rest of Carlton House. Jack scanned the vivid colors of the Oriental wallpaper, the crimson tassel twirling beneath a huge hanging gold lantern, and the many pieces of furniture decoratively painted with blossoms and willows and lattices. Jack was disappointed. This didn't look at all like a royal residence ought to look. At least not an English royal residence, one that bespoke the classical architecture of the Greeks and Romans.

  Lifting his gaze to the dais where a gilded bamboo throne sat on thick, sumptuous red carpet, Jack half expected to meet the gaze of an Oriental potentate, perhaps a robed Chinaman with a long, snaking beard. But squeezed into the throne was the Prince Regent himself, whose portliness was stuffed into a military-style jacket like that of a Life Guard gone mad over ornamentation. His booted feet rested on a footstool that matched the throne.

  The regent was easily identifiable from the many caricatures and portraits that were published of him almost daily. Jack's mother had frequently remarked that his majesty had reached his majority the year Jack was born. A quick calculation told him the regent was fifty years old.

  None of the prince's likenesses, however, had prepared Jack for the man's substantial girth. Had he grown so fat only recently? Uncharitably, Jack pictured servants prying the portly prince from the throne with a metal wedge.

  No one else was in the chamber except the prince. Jack's pulse hammered. Good lord, what if the regent launched into a fit of lunacy like his father was said to do?

  Such thoughts made Jack doubly glad to hear the regent speak in clear, dulcet tones. "Captain Dryden, I take it?"

  Jack moved toward the throne and swept into a low bow, wishing like hell he had thought to research the correct protocol for addressing the monarch. "Captain Jack Dryden, at your majesty's service."

  As he raised up he saw the regent's pudgy, bejeweled hand waving at him. "My good man, please do take a seat."

  Did people not kneel or stand or generally look suitably subservient in the regent's presence? Jack had never heard of anyone sitting down to chat with the sovereign, but far be it from this lowly army captain to question His Royal Highness. Jack's glance darted to the slender gilt chairs on either side of the regent, then to those against the wall at the base of the dais. Jack certainly was not possessed of enough arrogance to stride up and sit down next to his majesty like they were long-lost chums. He took the low road.

  "Not there, man!" the regent yelled. "Up here, next to me."

  Jack's limbs a bit shaky, he mounted the carpeted steps and took the indicated seat, tucking his hat beneath his chair. Would he be an utter cad if he faced the regent like he would one of his drinking companions?

  "I suppose you're wondering why I've called you back from the Peninsula, Captain?"

  Now that was starting things off with the bloody obvious! Jack mustered the courage to face His Royal Highness. "I've been exceedingly curious, your majesty."

  The regent smiled. "Wellesley recommended you."

  Wellesley? As in Chief Commander of all peninsular forces? At the same instant Jack connected Wellesley with his commander, he realized the regent had used the word recommended. A smile tweaked at Jack's lips as his rigid posture relaxed. He wasn't in trouble after all. It was perfectly plausible that Lieutenant-General Wellesley--with whom Jack was fairly well acquainted--might recommend him.

  But for what?

  "By the way," the regent said, "you're the first to know that Wellesley's to become a duke. I'm conferring on him the title of First Duke of Wellington. In honor of his many victories for the crown." The regent leaned toward Jack, and his pale blue eyes made contact with the captain's. "Victories Wellesley tells me would not have been possible without your reconnaissance."

  The regent knew of Jack's spying?

  "I told Wellesley I wanted his best man for the job at hand."

  Now Jack firmly met the regent's gaze. "I'm flattered, your Royal Highness, but I hardly think what I've done is---"

  "Don't be modest, captain. I have grave need for the services of one who's adept at investigating matters in a clandestine manner."

  "But surely--"

  The sovereign held up his hand. "I know of no one in the three kingdoms who has the skills Wellesley tells me you possess."

  More scenarios streaked through Jack's brain. Had one of the prince's pieces of muslin fled from him and gone into hiding? Did the prince wish to regain possession of indiscreet letters he'd penned? Or perhaps the regent wanted to have his estranged wife followed. Damn it all, Jack had dropped important work in Portugal to come here. And for what?

  "Do you not agree, Captain, it's quite irregular that no one else shares this room with us today?"

  "It did strike me as irregular, your majesty, though my knowledge of royal residences is minuscule at best."

  "The fewer people who know of your investigation, the better."

  Jack cleared his throat and shot a sideways glance at the prince. "What investigation would that be, your majesty?"

  The prince lowered his voice. "Someone is trying to kill me."

  How dare anyone try to murder the English ruler! "If that is the case, your majesty," Jack said in a strident voice, "I would be honored to help apprehend so vile a creature." His grave eyes met the regent's. "There has actually been an attempt on your Highness's life?"

  "Two actually."

  "May I say I'm very grateful the culprit has not been successful? Now, if your majesty would be so kind as to tell me about these attempts."

  "You must understand I didn't realize the first attempt was what it was until the second," the regent said.

  Jack nodded firmly. "Perfectly understandable. They--or he--wished it to look like a harmless accident."

  "Exactly!"

  "Sorry to interrupt, your Royal Highness. I beg that you continue."

  The prince's face puckered into a frown. "Don't you need to write all this down?"

  "First rule of a spy, your majesty, is to NEVER write anything down. As it is, I've been blessed with a half-decent memory."

  "Demmed lucky you are then. My cursed tutor lamented my lack of memory for years. But I do clearly remember about these attempts on my life. The first one happened in early October. I was up at my cousin Frankie's grouse hunting."

  "And where, may I ask, is your cousin's hunting lodge?"

  "In Scotland. A quite remote area, actually."

  Jack nodded. "How many were in your majesty's party?"

  The regent pursed his lips. "Let's see. There was Frankie and my brother Freddie. And Whitcombe, of course." The prince looked up at Jack. "The Marquess of Whitcombe. Just the four of us. That was all."

  "No servants?"

  The regent threw back his head and laughed. "Of course there were servants! Whenever the regent travels, there's at least a dozen carriages bearing the necessary staff."

  Jack frowned. "The Life Guards traveled with you also? It's their duty to protect your majesty, is it not?"

  "Well, yes," the regent said, shrugging, "but it's not like we thought I'd be in any danger in remote Scotland."

  "Then they didn't accompany you while you were shooting?"

  "Not me directly. No. They guarded the perimeters of Frankie's property. Now, of course, I wouldn't think
of going anywhere without them."

  "A wise decision."

  "Back to the attempt," the regent said. "We were all going our various ways, but we could see one another, could hear each other's muskets. I was creeping up on a towering pine when all of a sudden I felt a sharp pain in . . . in my groin. Demmed murderer almost got me family jewels!"

  Jack's forehead ruffled. "You took a musket ball in the groin?"

  The prince nodded. "Cursed unpleasant it was, I tell you!"

  "Pray, what did your majesty do then?"

  "At first I didn't realize I'd been shot. I looked down and saw all that blood, then I spoke in a decidedly uncouth manner. The others came running to help."

  "Could one of the others have accidentally shot you?"

  "Absolutely not. I could see all three of them and would have known if one of them had turned his gun on me. At the time, we all thought it was a poacher. We sent out the Guards, but the culprit had gotten away."

  "Did the Guards not see anyone?"

  "No one. Demmed murderer must have sneaked right by them."

  Jack knew how easy it was for the enemy to infiltrate where there was no suspicion, where lax guards had become complacent. "What about Lord Whitcombe? You're absolutely sure of his allegiance?"

  "No question about it."

  "Does your majesty recall the exact date of that attempt on your life?"

  The regent shook his head, but a second later his face brightened. "By Jove! It was the first day of grouse season!"

  Jack nodded thoughtfully. "The surgeon was able to remove the musket ball?"

  "He was, but demmed painful it was. Of course, you know all about that. Wellesley tells me you demmed near lost a leg because of a musket ball."

  "A nasty experience, to be sure. Almost lost my job, to boot. It's difficult to be inconspicuous when one has a limp."

  "Never thought of that!" The regent slid a glance at Jack's leg. "You have no limp now, do you?"