Passion Regency Style

by Wendy Vella

  “Of course, my lady,” Margery agreed, giving the countess her very best curtsy. “His mum will expect him to be down for a nap soon, though,” she said hesitantly, stepping aside so the countess could reach down and pick up the babe.

  “Nonsense,” Charity replied as she lifted Gabe into her arms, her gloved hands and pelisse hiding her injured arm. “Had she a proper nursery, this one would be playing right about now.”

  Margery regarded the older woman for a moment, annoyed by the woman’s comment. “Miss Cumberbatch is a very good aunt,” she answered a bit defensively.

  “Of course, she is,” Charity agreed with a smile as she moved to take a rocking chair in the corner. Miss Cumberbatch has them all convinced she’s the baby’s aunt, she realized just then. “A heavy one, he is,” she murmured as she settled herself.

  “Nana, dada,” Gabe said as one of his fists escaped from the blanket that swaddled him and began waving through the air. He grinned, displaying a limited number of teeth and a dimple that perfectly matched his father’s.

  Charity smiled at the boy’s antics. “I’m sure you have responsibilities to see to, young lady,” she said as she kept her attention on the Cupid look-alike she held. “I think I should like to rock this little boy to sleep.”

  Margery regarded the woman for a moment, thinking nothing untoward could happen with Gabe in the arms of a countess. “If ... if you’re certain, my lady,” she replied, thinking she could finish cleaning up the public room. “I’ll just be ten minutes, no more,” she added as she moved to the door.

  “Run along,” Charity said with a wave of one hand. “This little boy and I will just be here taking a nap.”

  With one last glance at the countess and at Gabe, Margery hurried out the door and down the steps to see to the public room.

  Charity waited a few moments, admiring her grandson as his eyelids grew heavy. Once he was asleep, she carefully stood up and made her way to the valise, slowly lowering the baby until he was safely inside. Padded with a few of her under things, it would provide a perfect way to carry Gabe out of the inn and into her coach.

  Peeking around the threshold and sure no one was about, Charity tiptoed out of the room and to the back stairs, pausing at the top to see if she could determine where they might bring her should she use them instead of the stairs that led into the public room. Daylight, from a window or from an opened door, illuminated the bottom step. She descended as quickly as she dared given her burden and her skirts. With all the inn’s employee’s busy with cleaning up after the departure of the mail coach or seeing to her coach, she was able to make it out the back door and to the side of the inn yard before she spotted her driver in a discussion with the inn’s owner.

  “Come along, Burberry. I wish to be home early this evening,” she said with a hint of impatience.

  Mr. Bristow rushed to the side of the coach and opened the door for her. “Thank you for staying at the Spread Eagle, my lady,” he said as he bowed.

  “Thank you for the excellent luncheons and accommodations. I shall return,” she promised as she allowed the owner to assist her into the coach. “Let’s be off, Burberry,” she called out the window.

  John Bristow was about to ask after her maid when the driver stepped up onto the coach and settled himself on the bench. The tiger, caught off-guard and still conversing with the stableboy, had to run to get to the coach. Before Mr. Bristow could say anything, the coach was suddenly moving and on its way out of the inn yard. Another few minutes, and it was out of sight of the Spread Eagle.

  Inside the coach, Charity Wellingham breathed a sigh of relief. She hoped Fuller’s son would see to her lady’s maid’s return to Trenton Manor within a day or two. Until then, she would have to rely on the other maids at the house to see to

  her needs. And the baby’s, if a rescue wasn’t already in the offing. She reached over and opened the valise, smiling when she

  determined Gabe was still sound asleep. Within a few moments, Lady Trenton was as well.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Of Bastard Brothers and a Son

  Gabriel Wellingham spent the night at Trenton Manor, enjoying the relative peace and quiet for the first few hours after his return from Wolverhampton. His mother had been true to her word and was off on some trip, apparently. Given her reaction to his news the day before, he thought it was better she wasn’t in the manor. He was sure she would argue that he should disavow any knowledge of his son and of the woman who claimed Gabriel was the boy’s father.

  Now that he planned to ask for Sarah’s hand in marriage, he wanted a day or two before having to inform his mother of his decision. It might take time—and a good deal of cajoling— to make his mother see his reasons for what he was about to do. And what he had already done with the help of his solicitor.

  Three siblings, he thought with a sigh. I have two brothers and a sister. His man had been quite thorough in doing his research, although old gossip had provided enough information to help get the search started.

  Having met his sister, Lily Harkins, in London, Gabriel was heartened when he received a note from her upon his return to Trenton Manor. Lady Samantha has encouraged me to accept your offer of clothes, a companion, a townhouse and a come-out. Lady Samantha is determined to have me ready for the Mayfield Ball. As for the dowry, it is far too soon for me to consider matrimony. I wish to have a Season to think about it. Thank you for your generosity. Your sister, Lily.

  Gabriel smiled as he read the missive, a sense of satisfaction settling over him. He could at least see to it she made an advantageous match in the Marriage Mart should she decide marriage was in her future. Hurrying off to his secretary’s office, Gabriel greeted the dour man with a smile and his thanks for finding the chit.

  His directive to Heatherton to see to Lily’s arrangements was met with a nod and an, “I’ll see to it immediately.”

  Feeling rather satisfied about Lily, Gabriel decided he was ready to meet his brothers. “Have you news as to the whereabouts of the two boys?” he asked of his secretary.

  Heatherton seemed to hesitate before finally nodding his head. “I have, my lord,” he said as he seemed to flip through several papers he had stacked neatly on his desk. “These just came in the morning’s mail.” Pulling out two sheets from the stack, he handed them to Gabriel. “I am ... sorry, my lord,” he murmured as he waited to be dismissed. “I have seen to it the investigator was paid for his services.”

  Furrowing his brows at his secretary’s comment, Gabriel turned his attention to the papers he’d been given. One described a baby boy born in Wolverhampton to a former maid of the manor. Died of fever at age one, the report stated, the date from over eleven years ago written in a scribble.

  Damnation! Gabriel thought with a heavy heart. He would have been twelve this year. Before Gabriel had a chance to feel too much sorrow, he flipped to the next page. Horace Cooper, aged fifteen, shot while attempting to steal a chicken. Although he lived for a few days, he later died of an infection.

  Gabriel stared at the report, reading it again just to be sure he had read it correctly. Stealing? “When did this happen?” Gabriel wondered, holding out the sheet about Horace.

  “A couple of years ago, my lord,” Heatherton answered, using a finger to point at the date on the report.

  Gabriel lifted his eyes to the ceiling, closing them for a few moments. Killed for stealing a chicken? Probably because he was poor and hungry.

  I’m too late, Gabriel thought in despair. Years too late. “Are you sure these are ... all of them?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  Heatherton nodded. “The investigator was quite sure there were just the three,” he replied carefully.

  Just three, Gabriel repeated to himself. Well, at least Lily was still alive, he considered. And my son.

  More determined than ever to convince Sarah to marry him—and to see to it his bastard son was recognized as his own—Gabriel ordered his horse be made ready for the trip to the Sprea
d Eagle. Packing the jewelry and the toys he had purchased for Gabe, he was on the road north by noon.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  A Bauble and a Baby

  By the time Sarah reached her room at the other end of the hallway, she had to grip the door frame in order to stop her forward momentum. Nearly spinning into the room where she had left Gabe with Margery earlier that afternoon, her heart leaped into her throat when she found neither in the room. Panic already threatening to cloud her thinking, she rushed out of the room, determined to find Margery.

  “Where is he?” Sarah called out as she hurried down the stairs.

  The tavern maid was calming sweeping the public room, humming softly as she did so. Surprised at Sarah’s sudden appearance, she took a step back. “Where is ... who?” Margery wondered.

  “Gabe!” Sarah nearly yelled. “He’s not in my room ...” She stopped as she watched Margery take another step backward and her expression change from one of calm to panicked.

  “The countess,” Margery managed to get out. “She insisted she be allowed to put the babe to sleep. When I left her, she was rocking him. She assured me ...” The tavern maid didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence as Sarah ran from the public room and through the hall to the back door of the inn. “Mr. Fuller!” Margery heard her call out.

  Dropping the broom, Margery hurried up the stairs and to Sarah’s room. Although the baby definitely wasn’t in the room, nothing of his extra blankets or clothing was gone, nor were any of the nappies missing from the stack atop the dresser. Margery worked her way down the hall, checking rooms she knew to be unoccupied and finally ended up in the parlor where Mrs. Fuller sat staring at the fire.

  She regarded the lady’s maid for a moment, a mix of sadness and anger making it hard to stay calm. “Did you know she was going to take the baby?” Margery wondered, her hands pressed against her middle. “I should never have left her alone in Sarah’s room.”

  The lady’s maid finally turned her gaze to the tavern maid, her head shaking from side to side. “I cannot believe Lady Trenton would do such a thing,” she murmured. “She doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of a babe.”

  Margery’s eyes widened. “Then, why?” Margery asked, her worry increasing. This is all my fault.

  Mrs. Fuller shook her head. “Well, the babe is her son’s bastard child,” she said in a whisper.

  Margery stared at Mrs. Fuller for a very long time. “Gabe is Lord Trenton’s son?” When the lady’s maid merely nodded, Margery shook her head. “But, how can that be? Gabe’s mother was Sarah’s sister. The poor woman died giving birth to him. How would the earl even know Sarah’s sister?”

  The explanation didn’t seem to matter to Mrs. Fuller. “Anyone who knew Gabriel Wellingham when he was a babe could take one look at that baby and know it was his,” she countered quietly.

  Shaking her head, Margery took her leave of the parlor and made her way down the stairs to the taproom, expecting to find Mr. Bristow. But the owner wasn’t in the room. By the time Margery got to the backyard, a flurry of activity was underway.

  “How long ago did she leave?” Sarah asked, her question directed to the inn’s owner.

  “Ten minutes, maybe,” he answered with a shrug. “But, I tell you, she didn’t have the babe,” he added quickly. “Just a valise.”

  She didn’t have the babe? But, of course she wouldn’t have had the baby in plain sight! “He was probably in the valise,” Sarah said, her panic increasing.

  “She didn’t take any of Gabe’s clothing or nappies,” Margery said sadly. “I am so sorry, Miss Cumberbatch. I never thought she would do such a thing. And her maid says she doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby.”

  Sarah stared at the tavern maid, her fright increasing at this bit of news. Perhaps the countess didn’t intend to keep the babe alive. Perhaps she took him so that she could ... but Sarah couldn’t complete that thought. Surely the woman wouldn’t kill her son’s child, bastard or not!

  Thomas, having just come from the stable with the groom, Daniel, cleared his throat. “Lady Trenton asked that her coach be made ready so she could leave shortly after the mail coach departed,” he explained carefully. “I thought she meant to follow it, but then I saw her coach heading south after it set out.”

  “Without her maid,” Sarah said, her eyes wide with fright. “She’s taken Gabe. Your mother ... your mother was to keep me occupied whilst the countess took the babe.”

  Clearly disturbed by this news, Thomas gave her a nod before he hurried off to the inn, disappearing through the back door.

  “Bobby, get a horse saddled right now,” Mr. Bristow called out toward the stables.

  “Make that two!” Sarah yelled. “I’m going after her,” she claimed when she saw the inn owner’s expression of surprise. “Oh, please let him be well,” she murmured as she hurried toward the stables.

  John Bristow headed toward the back door of the inn. “I’ll get my gun,” he said to no one in particular.

  Having loaded a couple of saddle bags with his gifts and a change of clothes, Gabriel Wellingham mounted Jupiter and headed out from the Trenton Manor stables. Riding meant he didn’t have to follow the roads leading in the general direction of Stretton. Instead, he cut through the hilly fields and allowed his horse a rest in Brewood before making the final leg on his journey to the Spread Eagle at an easy gallop.

  Given the inn was usually a rather quiet and sedate establishment, Gabriel was rather surprised to find it was nothing of the sort as he approached. Ignoring the activity in the inn’s side yard, he tied up Jupiter near the front door and made his way inside.

  He found a tavern maid crying, her head in her hands, at one of the tables in the public room. Somewhere above, he could hear a man shouting, presumedly at his mother—or perhaps his wife—he couldn’t be sure. And when John Bristow emerged from the taproom carrying a gun and a coat, Gabriel knew something was wrong.

  “Sir, may I be of assistance?” Gabriel wondered as he approached the startled inn owner.

  “My lord!” Mr. Bristow said in surprise. “Perhaps you know where she’s taken him,” he said, his manner suggesting he wasn’t about to be polite to the earl just then.

  Gabriel stared at the man for a moment, stunned at the man’s ire. “I’m quite sure I don’t know of whom you are referring,” he managed to say before he was suddenly staring down the barrel of John Bristow’s hunting gun.

  “Where did the countess take the babe?” Mr. Bristow asked, his eyes turning to steel.

  His hands going up in front of his body, Gabriel shook his head. “Countess?” he repeated. “As in ...”

  “Your mother. Where did she take the babe? If she so much has moved a hair on his ...”

  Gabriel’s eyes widened in horror.

  Good God!

  Had his mother come here on her trip? And had she done so because of his claim that Sarah’s baby was his son? “If she has done anything to harm Gabe, I shall be the one to see to her punishment,” Gabriel vowed in a low voice. “Where is Miss Cumberbatch?” he asked, using one of his hands to simply grab the long barrel of the gun and redirect it off to the side.

  Stunned that the earl would simply push his gun away, Mr. Bristow was about to aim it in his direction again. When he saw Gabriel’s expression, though, he lowered the barrel. “The inn yard. She intends to go after the countess’s coach,” he said by way of explanation.

  Gabriel gave the inn’s owner a nod and headed toward the hallway. He paused at the back door. A back stairway from the second floor intersected the hallway just before the back door. Gabe took a moment to look up the stairs. They lead almost to Sarah’s room, he realized before he made his way out the back door. And anyone could leave the inn from upstairs without being seen.

  With Bobby’s help, Sarah mounted one of the horses. The large Cleveland Bay was better suited to pulling a carriage, but the inn didn’t own any riding horses. “I’m sorry it’
s not a sidesaddle, Miss Sarah,” Bobby said as he watched Sarah rearrange her skirts so they covered as much of her legs as possible. She was intent on riding astride as she figured she wouldn’t be able to stay in the saddle any other way.

  The groom hurried from the inn carrying a blanket and tossed it up to Sarah. “It’ll be turning cold, Miss Cumberbatch. You’ll catch a chill if you just go ridin’ off like this,” Daniel warned.

  “I’ll be fine once I get my son back,” Sarah countered impatiently, wondering where the inn’s owner had disappeared to. “Tell Mr. Bristow I’m off. He’ll have to catch up.”

  Before either of the men could object, Sarah had the bay out of the inn yard and heading south at a full gallop just as Gabriel appeared from the back door of the inn. “Where is Miss Cumberbatch?” he asked of the groom.

  Daniel, still rather surprised at Sarah’s sudden departure and her parting words, blinked at the sight of the earl. “My lord,” he said, giving Gabriel a bow. He was about to ask where the earl had come from but instead answered his question. “She’s gone off after the Countess of Trenton,” he said as he pointed toward the front of the inn. “Said she was going to get her son back.”

  “Her son?” Bobby questioned, not particularly impressed that there was an earl in their midst. “You mean her nephew, don’t you?”

  Daniel stared at the stableboy for a moment before turning his attention back to Gabriel. “I heard her right. She said ‘my son’,” he repeated with earnest.

  “And mine,” Gabriel said under his breath. “Did anyone go with her?” he asked, feeling more alarmed by the minute. “An escort? A chaperone?” What was his mother up to? And what would Sarah to do her once she caught up to his mother’s coach? He could almost—almost—pity his mother just then.

  “Mr. Bristow was planning to go,” Daniel replied as he pointed toward the back door of the inn, where the owner was just emerging.

  Deciding Mr. Bristow with a hunting gun might be too dangerous for the trip to find his mother, Gabriel sighed. “Stay here, Mr. Bristow,” Gabriel called out, setting off at a run toward the front of the inn. He didn’t pause until he was next to Jupiter, mounting the horse in one quick move.