Regency Romances for the Ages

by Grace Fletcher

  Drake laughed. “It was no great sacrifice to me. George was a boyhood friend, and I was sure he would have laid his life down for me. Truth be told, there was a lot of good to George; he was fiercely loyal, in his own way. Still, I didn’t miss him much. There was only one thing I felt bad about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I missed meeting his little cousin sister each summer.” Drake smiled. For the first time that day, he raised his whip on the horses, and they moved with a speed that was akin to flying. The carriages were side by side now, and one of the men inside the coach looked out to see Sir Drake.

  “Remember what you need to do Harland!” Sir Peter said.

  But before they could overtake the carriage, a rifle had appeared, and a gunshot rang through the air. The men in the coach had been forewarned, clearly, and were in no mood to be stopped.

  “Looks like they’ve smelt a rat.” Sir Peter said.

  “Hm.” Sir Drake said. “Lucky their shooting ability is about as bad as their manners.”

  “Well, what now, my boy?” asked Sir Peter.

  “We proceed with our plan.” Sir Drake said and forced the horses to stop; blocking the road. The other carriage, whose rider was not so gifted

  nor as able as Sir Drake, whipped his horses mercilessly, then yanked at their reins and attempted to pull them sideways into the woods, certain he would not be able to stop in time. This resulted in a magnificent crash as the villains’ carriage fell sideways into a ditch.

  “Devil take it! They’ve ruined my statue.” Sir Peter exclaimed, jumping off the carriage.

  “I think it’ll be fine my man.” Sir Drake said, jumping off and whipping out his pistol. “Keep that rifle steady Harland.”

  There were groans of pain from inside the carriage as three men slowly made their way out.

  “You lot better not come out without my statue.” Warned Sir Peter, “Or you’ll be missing as many limbs as it.”

  At this moment, the carriage having stopped, Laura, and Catherine leaped out, with Laura rushing to embrace Peter. “Peter! You vile man! You’re not hurt, are you? We heard a shot!” She showered his face with kisses, and he pretended to look indifferent while suppressing a smile.

  “It’s alright now.” Said he. “Nothing’s happened to-”

  “Careful!” Cried Catherine. She sighted a fourth man emerging from the overturned carriage, gun in hand. In that split second, Catherine could see plainly that it was too late. The man’s gun was aimed at Peter and would probably hit Laura square in the back.

  Too late to do anything but react, she pushed them desperately aside, taking her place in front of the couple, and heard two gunshots explode even as her world went black.

  Chapter 10

  An Old Score to Settle

  F or what felt like a very long time, Catherine’s world was a blur of pain and shadow. Through that pain, she felt a tender kiss being placed on her forehead, and strong hands carrying her, as she clung to a muscular chest.

  “Catherine, Catherine my own, my love, please-”

  She stirred, unconsciously aching to return the affection being bestowed on her, but was drawn back into the darkness and pain.

  “She will survive, won’t she?” asked Sir Drake anxiously as a doctor tended to her room. “My Lord, man, tell me that she will be fine.”

  “She will be fine.” Proclaimed the doctor. “Though a luckier woman I’ve yet to see! An inch to either side and the bullet would have killed her. I have given her a potion so that she will sleep for some time. As it stands, she will recover with a month’s rest. But how about the man who shot her?”

  “He’s gone to meet his maker.” Said Sir Peter. “Our Drake is a far surer shot. Even with luck on his side that man’s fate was sealed.”

  The group had taken up lodging at an inn a few miles from where the accident had happened and were now gathered around an unconscious Catherine, grim and pale.

  “Oh, but the poor girl!” Laura cried, wiping an eye with a delicate lace handkerchief. “To think of the harsh words we said to her! We owe her our lives, Peter!”

  “I owe her my world.” Said Peter. “Were it not for her, my one love would have been–but I cannot bear think of it.”

  Sir Drake was kneeling by the bedside, stroking her cheek gently with his finger. “I do believe, we all owe her an apology, Peter. I aim to make mine as soon as she gets up.”

  There was a tumult at the door, and the landlord came in.

  “M’lord! A man has come M’lord! We are trying to restrain him, but he will not stop-”

  From outside they could hear cries of anger. “Let me at them! Those foul wretches have my cousin sister in there!”

  Peter looked up in alarm and moved to shield Laura as the door flew open and George stalked in.

  He was a big man, swarthy in complexion, with great curls of hair flying around his face, and his cravat nearly undone. His eyes were wild with anger.

  “Cur!” he cried out. “You sir!” he pointed at Drake. “You dared enter my home and steal my cousin sister away from me under my very nose! Did you expect you would not be found-” George stopped, as he saw the scene in front of him. “What have you done?” He growled.

  Sir Peter hastily shuttled everyone out of the room, including a very reluctant Laura, and shut the doors.

  “Your own villainy has caused this.” Said Sir Drake. “It was one of your own men who shot her.”

  “What!” cried George. “It cannot be!” He collapsed to his knees and held his precious cousin’s face in his hands. “Sister dear! Oh, but I have loved her as my very own ever since her father adopted me when I was 7. Catherine my darling! Is she hurt? Tell me everything.”

  Sir Peter hesitated a moment, then told George all that had befallen them since the night before, with Drake adding in the parts he did not know.

  “Stupid, silly creature.” Said George. “Pushing herself headlong into danger like that.”

  Sir Drake stood very stiff now, as George continued his remonstrations, mixing prayers with pledges to change if she would only wake up. Catherine stirred in her sleep,

  “Enough man!” Sir Peter cried. “Get a hold of yourself!”

  Slowly, shakily, George lifted himself and turned with fury at the two men standing before him. “You.” Said he to Drake. “We have an old score to settle, I see. I did not believe you would be so dastardly as to kidnap my darling cousin. I challenge you now to a duel, sir.”

  “You may shoot me if you wish.” Said Sir Drake, “But I could not bring myself to harm the only man who Catherine calls family, no matter the cause.”

  “Is that the way of it?” asked George, suddenly seeing clearly. “Do you mean to court her?”

  “Speaking of court.” Said Sir Peter, “When shall I call the law, my good man? There’s the little matter of a statue that you have so cunningly tried to steal from us.”

  George laughed. “I’m a villain through and through though I swear I’ll turn a new leaf if my darling cousin is unharmed this day. By the devil, I’ve seen the error of my ways, and I would take the punishment for it but let it not be her who suffers!”

  Sir Peter frowned. “I can hardly call the law on you, not after what Catherine has done. So, I will say this. We retrieved it unharmed from the upturned carriage, so I will take that statue home now, and call it a day. I will not press the law on you though god knows you deserve it. What was your plan anyhow?”

  “My plan?” said George. “As complicated as you could imagine. I wished to convince you that the statue had been shattered and sell it to another man in Paris. Double the money and spend it all on gambling!”

  “A pretty plan. But for your sake I hope you have not taken that Frenchman’s money just yet.” Said Drake “Or he’ll be after you soon enough.”

  “Oh, no fear, he would not just hand me the money.” Said George. “The only money I owe is to you, Sir Peter, and I promise you, I will return it, every last farthing.”
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  “You owe me nothing, I have the statue.” Said Sir Peter.

  “But, Catherine already told you, didn’t she? That statue is a fake!”

  Chapter 11

  Worthy of Her Affections

  “A fake! So she didn’t lie to us.” Sir Peter said.

  “Of course not. My sweet Catherine would never lie.” Sir Drake said. “I was such a fool to think otherwise.”

  “Fake or not, it is still a masterpiece. How came you to possess it?” asked Sir Peter.

  “Possess it? Simple. I asked the best sculptor I knew to make it for me.” Said George.

  “Who?”

  “Catherine of course!” he said. “Didn’t you guess yet? She sculpted it.”

  Sir Drake stood thunderstruck. Of course. He should have known ever since he had traced the callus on her palm in that moonlit field. Catherine had created the statue!

  “But was she so dishonest as to participate in your fraudulent schemes?” asked Sir Peter.

  “Not in the least. Poor Catherine knew nothing of my plans.” Said George. “She thought it would be a grand joke at first and so did I. She’d show up the society of dilettanti, who had insulted her by refusing to grant her art any significance. I’d get entry to a society of adventurers and gamblers just as I wanted. Truth be told, once Catherine had created the sculpture, she had many misgivings about what we were going to do. I egged her on, kept assuring her it was all going to be fine. After all, we planned to reveal the truth at that party.”

  “But then?”

  “But then, I needed money. My gambling mates were after my life. You came along Sir Peter and made an offer I could not resist. Better still, I had an idea on how to ease Catherine’s mind, prevent you from discovering it was a fake, and get double the money. Pretend that it had shattered and get rid of it by sending it to Paris. I was trying to hide it from both you and her. Catherine knew nothing of my plans, I assure you.”

  “She was innocent.” Said Sir Drake, “All along, the poor girl was innocent. I have wronged her greatly.”

  “As have I,” George said. “Sir Peter, I beg you to forgive me, although I will understand if you do not wish to. My creditors may go to the devil, I will repay every last farthing I owe you.”

  Sir Peter smiled. “I believe that you have already paid them the money, George, so your promises are rather empty. Still, I cannot hold it against you. Do not think of it again. My wife’s life is more precious to me than a thousand statues and Catherine has saved her.”

  “One thing, though.” Said Sir Peter. “George, you will have to come clean to the Society of Dilettantes. The truth about the statue must be revealed. For the sake of your family’s honor, we will claim it was all a prank, and none shall know the events of last night.”

  George bowed. “It will be as you said. I meant what I said, Sir Peter, and I will indeed try my hardest to give Catherine a cousin to be proud of from this moment on. God knows she deserves it.”

  Sir Drake nodded, gazing down at Catherine’s sleeping form, and wondered that he had not connected her with the statue before. He understood now why the statue had invoked feelings in him that no other had. Its very spirit was the same as Catherine’s, mysterious and tender all at once. But, even as he felt love for her course through him, part of him wondered if she would see him with anything but revulsion after the things he had said to her? He moved out of the room with the others, his heart heavy, and waited for her to wake.

  When Catherine awoke the next morning, she felt pain shoot through her, as she sat up in bed. She would have fallen again, had two sets of hands not carefully held her up. She looked around to see Lady Laura and her cousin George tending to her.

  “George!” cried she horrified. “You’re here!”

  “I am,” He said, regretful. “Catherine, it’s alright, my girl. I’ve told them everything and they’ve forgiven me. All because of you. Because of what you did. You didn’t just save Lady Laura’s life. You saved your sinful cousin’s soul.”

  “I cannot but say over and over how grateful I am.” Said Lady Laura.

  Sir Peter, from behind her, confirmed, “We only ask your apologies for whisking you away in the ungentlemanly way we did last night. Pray do not think of the statue or any debts anymore; we have cleared it all with George.”

  “Oh!” Catherine shrank back. “I did nothing but what any sensible man or woman would do. Please, do not shame me with your praise.”

  “Catherine.” Sir Drake appeared, and Catherine felt tears rise to her eyes at the sight of him. She longed to run to him, and cling to his bold form, but the pain in her side prevented it as much as her modesty did.

  The others tactfully withdrew, leaving the two of them alone.

  “Lady Catherine. For all the honors you have bestowed on us,” Sir Drake said, “I would that you bestow one more. I beg of you for your hand in marriage.”

  “No! Oh no!” cried Catherine, bursting into tears. Not Drake too! Did he mean to shame her so? Did he feel forced to marry her because he had taken her away from her home in the manner that he had? Or was it only a feeling of pity and gratitude mixed together that made him wish her hand in marriage? Surely, oh surely, she could not bear it. He might for a month or a year think of her as tolerable, but a marriage based on pity and gratitude would end in disaster. “I would rather be a nun!” said she.

  Sir Drake had become very pale. “Very well, my lady, I will disturb you no more. I only wish that you will with time, see me as worthy of your affections. For me, until the very day I die will find no one else to compete with mine.” Bowing, he made to leave the room.

  Chapter 12

  Hope Returned

  “W ait!” cried Catherine. “Do you really mean that?”

  “Mean it?” asked he. “Do I mean that my existence, until I attain you as my wife, will be a sore and haunted one? Do I mean that for me the sky will be empty of light until the star of your beauty is mine alone? Do I mean that since even before I had first seen you last night; since I saw merely the statue you created, even that smallest expression of your soul had me falling in love with you? Yes, my lady, I mean it all.”

  “Oh!” cried she, quite speechless.

  “I understand, after the cruelty I have shown you, that you have no tenderness towards me,” He said. “Yet, my lady, I cannot but hope that you will someday return my ardor.”

  “Oh, Drake! My darling!” she tried to leap off the bed and found herself stumbling into his arms with a gasp.

  “Careful,” He said, gripping her tightly.

  “Drake, you asked me at the dance why your opinion of the statue was important to me. Do you remember?”

  “I do,” He said hope awakening on his face.

  “Ever since I was a little girl, Drake, I have seen you admire art! Oh, I have worked so hard to try to create something that would capture the look on your face when you see a sculpture you love. To find out that you love me is-”

  But at this point, her words were cut short as a barrage of kisses met her.

  Outside the door, Laura had shamelessly put her ear to the keyhole.

  “Disrespectful!” huffed Sir Peter.

  “Oh hush Peter! He’s my brother, I have a right to make sure he does not make a mess of it.”

  “Disrespectful.” Repeated Sir Peter. Then, unable to resist he asked. “Well, did he make a mess of it, then?”

  “I do believe, sir, that my parents are going to have to organize a wedding very soon.” Said, Laura, standing up and wiping a happy tear from her eye.

  *** The End ***

  Falling For The

  True Earl of Bathurst

  Regency Romance

  Grace Fletcher

  Chapter 1

  Betrothed

  to Nathaniel

  “A h, Rome!” sighed Lady Florentia Egerton. “My dear girl, how I have longed to see it again and at long last, here we are, gazing upon the Colosseum, soon to visit the churches!”

&nbs
p; “It is beautiful, Aunty Florentia. I quite agree.” Diana Honeyfield replied though she did not lift her nose out of the book she cradled in her hands.

  Lady Florentia, a doughy widow who had been in charge of Diana since her parents’ death four years ago, looked back at her niece and gave a little sigh. “Diana, my love. Why do you waste your time so? A book is only stamped ink on paper; the real world is so much more alluring.”

  “But the real world cannot be seen unless you’ve dived into the books on it,” Diana said. “Do you know that the very courtyard you look upon once had gladiators training in it? Free men chose to become gladiators that they may gain fame and fortune—and slaves were forced to it. Did you know also that the center of the Colosseum could, more than a thousand years ago, be converted into a lake so that gladiators could mimic naval warfare?” She looked up now, her eyes shining. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “Hmpf.” Aunt Florentia, who did not know any of this but did not particularly wish to display the fact, simply sniffed and wandered back from the window. “Well, all that aside, you spend more time looking at the book than at the very wonders we came to see. What could be the point?”

  Diana said nothing, presumably because she had begun reading some other tidbit about the gladiator’s lives. Aunt Florentia searched for another line of attack. “Goodness, dear. You don’t mean to tell me that you are still wearing this raggedy dress? Your fiancé won’t be too pleased.”

  “We have an hour until we are to meet Lord Bathurst,” Diana said, but she looked a little anxious. “Perhaps, though, it would be wise for me to be dressed now.”

  Why Sir Nathaniel Colborne the Third, Earl of Bathurst, had chosen her to be his betrothed long confused Diana. At nineteen, Diana thought herself neither beautiful nor possessing of the charms that attracted men—and yet, something about her had caused him to stop the chase of other women and devote himself to her betterment.