by Claudy Conn
A month later, and on the Isle of Wight, with family and friends around them, Ryker and Jewelene were wed in a ceremony that was small and sweetly romantic.
The fall season arrived with Henshaw House already seeing a profit from its breeding revenue, but Sir James, at his sister’s insistence, went off with his friend Arthur Salford to Cambridge to further his education. He left his loyal and mature head groom, Jonas, to breed the stallion to the list of mares that were sent their way.
The fall also saw Elizabeth married to Ben Clay, and her mother though not jubilant was happily resigned to the fact. They took a lovely home in Yarmouth, but her mother remained at Henshaw House to see to its efficient running in the absence of both Jewelene and her brother.
Caesar decided he had to accompany Jewelene and her new husband, since Jimmy could not take him up to school. And he made quite a picture hanging his head out of the coach when they first entered the city. He found that Hyde Park suited him very much and would bring his leash to be walked there each morning when they were in town.
Jewelene and her dark blond knight did, in fact, take London and the haute ton by storm! However, Jewelene was very pleased to find that her marquis had a country estate, and more often than not, that was where the two could be found making plans for a family.
’Twould be romantic fiction to tell they ‘lived happily ever after,’ but indeed, they came close to it—very close.
Here’s a taste of another of Claudy’s
Risqué Regency romances:
Oh, Cherry Ripe
One
CHERYL ELTON OPENED the door to her stepmother’s sitting room and peeped around the corner of the bright and handsomely furnished room before she smiled sheepishly and asked, “You wanted to see me, mama?”
Lady Elton’s expression was grave and her lips set as she said in a reproving tone, “Come sit, Cheryl.”
Cherry Elton did what she was told, not because she was an obedient miss, but because she wanted to stave off the trouble she saw ahead.
Her stepmother affectionately brushed Cherry’s long, thick, black hair away from her face and clucked. “I suppose you should start to wear your hair up most of the time now … you certainly are of age.”
“Yes, Mama, but I like it loose.”
Lady Elton frowned and sighed, took a moment to smooth out the skirt of her gray satin day gown, and then looked into Cherry’s bright aqua-blue eyes. “I want you to listen to what I have to say before you get yourself in a state.”
“Mama, I know now that what I did was not quite the thing—” Cherry hurriedly began to explain. She knew this time she was in trouble.
“Not the thing!” spluttered Lady Elton, interrupting her. “Hopping on Lord Melville’s stallion in the middle of Hyde Park—in your walking clothes—and then riding the animal astride with your skirt hiked up as you raced Sir Peter for all the world to see … not the thing? Why, you miserable wretch of a girl! How can you sit there and look so innocent? If your father were alive …”
Cheryl leaned forward and hugged her stepmother. “I am sorry.” But even as her stepmother might have relaxed had she left it at that, Cherry added, “Had I been a man and done that, I would have been called top sawyer … but just because I am a female—”
“A man would not have had to hike up his skirts!” Lady Elton snapped. “Cherry love, what am I to do with you?” She put up her hand to stop her stepdaughter from answering. “Enough. You know the rules that govern society. You know that what you do affects not only your own standing but mine as well in that same society. How dare you, child.”
This tore at Cherry. She loved her stepmother and meant her no ill. As far back as she could remember her stepmother had always loved her and her father and had been very good to her. “Mama, I didn’t think past the moment … Peter was being the devil of a tease … and there was Melville’s black looking so very fine and inviting and Melville goading me by saying he was too much horse for me to handle … and …”
“Yes, impossible creature, I do see, but that is where a young woman of your breeding and standing demurs and shames a gentleman into behaving with more decorum towards her.” Lady Elton clucked her tongue, and Cherry could see her mama’s thoughts racing. “However, I have the solution, and amazingly enough, he still wants you.”
“What are you talking about? He—who still wants me?”
“I knew that he was more than mildly interested, but I never dreamed he would actually come up to scratch … and then, Lady Jersey said you would be refused vouchers to Almack’s because of your recent hoydenish behavior … That awful woman never liked me—I daresay she was looking for the chance to … but never mind, all will soon be well.”
“Jersey said she would refuse me entrée to Almack’s?” Cherry returned on a hushed note. She always thought the Haute Ton hostess liked her.
“No, no, not Sarah but the other one.”
“Princess Esterhazy? Stiff-rumped—”
“And that is another thing—your language. You spout terms like any man—stiff-rumped, indeed.”
“Well, I don’t care about Almack’s anyway,” Cherry answered.
“Then why are you pouting? This won’t do. You shan’t be admitted there this season, you dreadful girl. However, all is not lost. You will be married to the catch of the century, and they just might change their minds about you yet. No matter, you will be busy enough this season with your new life.”
“Married?” Cherry jumped to her dainty feet. “I won’t! No—what are you talking about?” Had she indicated any partiality for any of her suitors? No, she had not. How could her stepmother do this? It was absurd. She had refused no less than five offers in the past eight months. What then—this offer had to be from a virtual stranger. Who could have applied for her hand?
“Oh, but my girl, you will be married, and one day you will thank me for taking this high-handed method of settling you comfortably just when you were on the brink of scandal.”
“Mama, I don’t know what you are talking about. I must tell you that I have no intention whatsoever of marrying where my heart has not thrown in the towel, and I must advise you that my heart is very much my own.”
“And still you will be married, my darling, and he is just the man to set you to rights,” Lady Elton returned gently but firmly.
“The devil you say!” her wayward stepdaughter retorted in just the style her stepmama deplored.
“Now that is precisely what I mean.” Lady Elton sighed. “You cannot go about using expressions like that one. It is most unbecoming.”
“And it is not becoming to marry a man I have never seen!” Cherry was now desperately wringing her hands. Her mama was talking absurdities, and she found it all incredible.
“His lordship is an exceptional man. He is handsome. He is wealthy beyond imagination, with a family name that dates back to—”
“What do I care for that? Mama, you are asking me to marry a man I have never met!” Cherry, now pacing frantically, screeched.
“Yes, dear, but often those matches turn out very comfortably.”
“I don’t want comfort!” Cherry snapped. “I want love … passion …”
“That may come as well. When your dear father proposed to me, I scarcely knew him … but after we were married, all those things came—”
“No, Mama … I want those things first!”
“Cheryl, you know nothing—”
“I know I won’t do this,” she snorted.
“You will meet him, and this will be done. Darling, I rather think you will even like him immediately. He is most charming and has experience enough to—”
“Ah! No doubt he is ancient.”
“Not quite ancient.” Lady Elton’s tone was dry. “Eight and twenty, and you, my dear, are one and twenty … nearly past your prime. You are certainly past your first bloom and still on the town. It is, considering your exquisite looks and dowry, most odd.”
“Odd? It is what I want,
and I am very willing to remain single forever. Mama, this is completely ridiculous.”
“No, darling, it is not ridiculous. I don’t know exactly what prompted him to offer for you, for quite honestly, he has never seen you either … but offer he has, and I have accepted.”
Cherry’s mouth dropped, and it took a moment for her to recoup for the attack. “Indeed!”
“Dearest daughter, don’t you know that I fell in love with you even before I did with your father? I want the best for you, and believe me, this is. Some of the best marriages are created in this fashion.”
“And some of the worst. Marriage of convenience—for me? Never, Mama … never.”
“No? Well, I am afraid you are out there, my love. His lordship will be by tomorrow morning to present himself to you, and, darling, mark me, you will marry him.”
“I won’t.” Cherry stomped her foot and felt a terror fill her mind. What was happening to her world? It was all falling around her ears. Could her stepmother force her to the altar? “This is monstrous of you!”
“I know you think that, but, darling, it is not what you imagine. He will treat you with respect. He is wise enough to handle you gently, tenderly. Why, you will hunt with him in the North, where he has a hunting box, and you will—”
“Mama!” Cheryl interrupted sharply. “I can’t believe you are doing this to me. You have always stood my friend. Now … before my eyes, you have turned into a stranger. Worse, you are nothing more than a … a stepmother from some horrid fairytale.” And so saying, Cherry fled the room.
Two
SKYLER WESTBROOKE STOOD at his bow window, the cozy warmth of his richly appointed study at this broad back. He turned and regarded himself in the mirror, staring into his own deep blue eyes. What was he doing?
He turned again and looked out onto the quiet London street. His right hand had formed a fist at his lips, for he was in deep concentration. His left hand unconsciously rubbed his muscular thigh where he had sustained a minor injury the day before.
He was consumed with agitation. The time had come to make his decision final. He had asked for the hand of Miss Cheryl Elton, and he would go through with it. He would wed the unknown chit and be done.
It was his only logical choice. At least one could not fault her heritage, her upbringing, her family connections. Hers was a fine, aristocratic line. Her father had been in politics; he had been a Whig like himself, and this was a plus. Miss Elton was reputed to be a lovely creature—in fact, his good friend had told him she was exquisite, though there was talk about her ‘too high spirits’, but he would curb that. Marriage would bring her in tow.
She was already one and twenty, so he wasn’t robbing the cradle. It was a good age, beyond schoolgirl notions, old enough to mother his young brothers and sisters. He had been told she had a good head on her shoulders, which was well, for she would need it when she found herself with such a large ready-made family. And Miss Elton would understand what it was to lose one’s parents, having lost both herself.
There it was; though he had never met her, he had thought it all out and chosen her to carry on his name and his household. As to the ‘love’ he had always looked for … it just wasn’t meant to be.
The one woman he had thought he loved had turned out to be a faithless, money-hungry, man-eating—never mind. He flicked it out of his head. The year had given him perspective. Love was not in the cards for him. He would be a good husband, and if a pretty ankle turned his head, he would be discreet …
He walked over to his Regency writing desk, where an impressive collection of miniatures reposed in ornate silver frames. One was a portrait of his mother. On either side was framed a portrait of a man, the one on the left his father and the one on the right his stepfather. Then in order of their ages were one of each of his siblings—two half-brothers and two-half sisters. First was Freddy, seventeen and away at Eton. Next was Mary, fourteen and also away at school. The twins, Felix and Francine, were eight and totally wild. They had managed between them to dispose of one governess after another, three in the last year. Damn, but they needed a woman’s hand. They needed someone who was young enough to take them in tow … and hopefully grow to love them as he did.
Marry he would, and his bride would be Cheryl Elton, for her spirit was just what he needed to run his wayward household.
It was logical …
Three
GETTING OUT OF London was not as easy as Cherry had anticipated. She’d encountered several setbacks, though none had taken place as she stole out of the house. That, at least, had gone smoothly—too smoothly, for she had breathed a sigh of relief after exiting through the rear door and immediately assumed a far too cocky frame of mind.
She had reached the stables where her stepmother kept their horses housed and was met by a sleepy groom who eyed her with a touch of disapproval.
“Lookee … why … it’s Miss Cheryl,” he exclaimed in some surprise. His gray-brown eyebrows moved with great expression as he pulled at his lower lip. “Whot is it, miss … trouble?”
“In a manner of speaking. I need my horse as quickly as you can … no need for any real brushing or grooming, John … please,” she whispered, hoping he would not create any more of a stir than he had already done. She could see another stable-hand moving out of the recesses of the barn and curiously looking their way.
“Now, whot can ye be at, miss?” John shook his head. “Her ladyship wouldn’t loike ye rambling about on yer horse at night, miss … no she would not. She would ’ave me ’ead, she would, if oi was to saddle yer Bessy and let ye go.”
“Right then. Never mind. I’ll saddle Bessy up myself,” Cheryl said, quite willing to be reasonable. She didn’t want anyone to incur her stepmother’s wrath on her account.
John shook his head, for this did not make any sense to him. Thing was, he could see trouble ahead. “She’ll ’ave me run through, she will, and nobbut could blame ’er. Oi jest can’t let ye go off at this time of night. Miss Cheryl, forgive ol’ John, but, jest can’t.” He was pleading with her now.
“Can’t you?” Cheryl’s brow was up. “How do you mean to stop me?” She was already moving toward the tack room. He followed her hurriedly, and his voice had changed to a whine.
“Aw now, ’ave pity, do. Whot is it? Do ye want me turned off?”
Cheryl turned around with her saddle in her arms as she faced him. “John, you have been with us such a very long time and must know that my stepmother would never turn you off. And besides, she knows me—she will understand that you are not to blame in this.”
By now she had put the blanket on her mare’s back, hoisted the saddle on and was cinching it in place. Bessy snorted, and Cheryl released a short laugh. “Yes, girl … I know, but you didn’t have any work today, so you shouldn’t mind a nice easy night’s walk.”
She turned her attention back to John, who was gawking at her and pointing at her saddle. She realized she had not tacked up Bessy with the accepted ladies’ sidesaddle and laughed softly. “No, I know, John, but who is to see at such an hour? And I do love riding astride so much better.”
“Aye, but not in London, miss. Maybe in the country … but—”
“Who is to see me? I will have my hood slung low over my head, no one will know me, and then I shall be much more comfortable when I get out of the city,” she said, smiling brightly. “Don’t fret it, John. I know what I am doing.”
“Do ye indeed!” he snapped. “Oi’ve ’eard ye say that to me countless times and land yerself in the pudding.”
She laughed, “Well, here is hoping that I shan’t land myself in the pudding this night.” She slipped the bridle in place and hooked the last of the leathers. She sighed heavily then as it flashed through her mind just what she was doing. “Never mind, John. You will tell my stepmother in the morning, for she shan’t notice I am gone until then, that I simply took my horse and left before you could do anything about it. You had no choice in the matter, so you can’t be bla
med.”
“Oi can’t let it go loike that, miss Cheryl. Oi’ve got to go to the ’ouse now and tell her ladyship that you’ve taken off alone. ’Tis me duty.” He was shaking his head sadly, obviously hating the position he found himself in.
Cheryl reached out and touched his shoulder. “Of course, John. You do just what you think right.” So saying, she led her horse to the mounting block outdoors and hoisted herself into the saddle, situated her riding skirt in place, yanked down its matching blue jacket, and tugged her black velvet cloak overall. She situated her hood so that it hung low over her face, turned to John, and added, “I’m afraid you won’t find her at home, John. Her friends picked her up an hour ago, and they are all at the theater. Won’t be home for hours.” She smiled to herself, well pleased.
At his expression, she sighed. “Don’t worry, John. I have my pistol with me, plenty of the ready, and I shall do just fine. You may tell my stepmother that I shall write her after I am established and have forgiven her …” Her voice trailed off on this last. Forgiven her? Could she ever forgive her this awful betrayal? She had always believed her stepmother loved her, but if she did, how could she ship her off to a stranger—marry her to a stranger?
To Cherry Elton, this was an act that was beyond forgiveness or understanding.
*
Lord Sky Westbrooke gave his present situation a great deal of serious contemplation and concluded that he was a young man greatly to be pitied. Depression weighed him down until there was only one thing that he could do—drink himself into oblivion!
He reasoned with his better sense; he was sacrificing his life, wasn’t he? He was being totally unselfish and giving the remainder of his years over to a strange woman for the sake of his family. Egad! He would soon be a husband, perhaps a father. All joy would soon be out of his reach … gone forever …