“May I inquire as to Lord Norwich and Mr. Spencer?” Bella couldn’t help but wonder where they had gone. She never thanked Spencer properly for helping her while they were in the water. Truthfully, he did more than help her, he saved her life.
“I hired a hack to take them home. Do not fret, Lady Isabella, they will suffer no ill will for riding in a hackney coach,” the marquess replied as though Myles and Spencer were nothing more than the hired staff. Obviously the marquess did not care for either of them. But why? Sometimes she wondered why she couldn’t have a dull-witted brain like some of the other young ladies her age, instead of the inquisitive one she’d been born with. Life would be so much simpler.
“Thank you. I would not want their families worrying about them any more than they probably are.”
“I understand,” the marquess said. “I realize this is not a good time for introductions, but I would be remise in my duties if I did not introduce you to my distant cousin. Lady Isabella Seabrook, may I present, Mr. Aaron Bradford, from Massachusetts.”
Bella wanted to bury her face beneath the blanket. How dreadful she must look. Instead, she raised her chin high, held out her hand, which trembled from cold or embarrassment she could not be certain which. “Mr. Bradford, how nice to make your acquaintance.”
Mr. Bradford leaned forward, took her hand in his large one and raised it up. His warm lips caressed her naked knuckles briefly. Oh dear, she forgot she took her wet gloves off and left them in the boat.
“Lady Isabella, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard much about you from your brother, Lord Sebastian.”
“My brother?” What did this stranger mean?
“Please forgive me.” Mr. Bradford leaned back against the seat and smiled. “I have you at a disadvantage. I purchased Hamilton Whaling Oil from Lord Sebastian on behalf of your brother, the duke. Once I found a suitable manager to oversee the business on my behalf, I travelled to England to pay my distant cousin, Newbury, a visit. And, of course, I planned on calling on both your brothers.”
Bella did not know what to say. Sebastian never discussed business with her. She did not know who he sold Hamilton Whaling Oil to. Obviously to the gentleman who sat in front of her. The man with the friendly smile and intriguing accent.
“I’m quite certain my brother will be pleased to see you again, you must stop by for tea.” Bella hoped she spoke the truth. One never knew with her brother.
“Yes, thank you. I will,” Mr. Bradford replied. As the carriage came to a halt, he pushed the curtain aside and peered out the window. “I do believe I see your brother now.”
Bella leaned forward, looked out the now open door, and saw her family home. Wentworth and Sebastian stood on the front steps both looking anxious and tired. “Indeed, you do.”
Wentworth rushed forward and nudged the coachman aside. “Bella.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her close. “You scared ten years off my life. You’re freezing and soaking wet. We must get you inside.”
As he escorted her up the front stairs, he looked back. “Newbury, I must thank you properly for saving my sister. My butler will see you to my study for refreshments.”
“Mother and Emma are beside themselves with worry,” he said as he paused outside her chambers. “I expect they will be in to see you momentarily.”
“Wait,” Bella said in panic. “Spencer told me Amelia also fell into the river. I must know how she is? And what about you and Sebastian, you went in to save her? How did you get home so quickly, and get cleaned up?”
“She’s fine. We are all fine. We saved Amelia with the help of her husband.” Her brother smiled a full genuine smile, which he seldom did. “To answer your question about how we arrived home so quickly, obviously, my horses are faster than Newbury’s. You must get out of those clothes before you catch a death of a chill.”
LORD SEBASTIAN AND THE SCOTTISH LASS
A Seabrook Family Saga, Book Four
Available now
Chapter One
Northern England
1818
Jagged bolts of lightning followed by ear splitting thunder caused every muscle in Sebastian Seabrook’s body to constrict. Halfpenny sized raindrops pelted him from every conceivable direction as the wind howled relentlessly. His tired and frightened gelding needed shelter, as did he. Why on earth did I volunteer to go on this mission?
When next the lightning bolt lit up the scarcely traveled muddy road, it struck a tree in close proximity. The explosion shook the ground beneath him. His horse, spooked, reared up nearly unseating him and then bolted. Not down the muddy road, but into the woods. Sebastian fought with the reins, gave up the struggle to keep them in his hands and leaned far forward wrapping his arms around his horse’s neck and holding on for his life. “Please God,” he prayed. “I only wish to go home.”
Each and every time the sky lit up, he realized his horse carried them deeper and deeper into the unknown forest. If Sebastian had not been lost before, he certainly was now. His brother, the Duke, had wanted to hire Bow Street Runners for this quest, but no, he’d volunteered against his family’s wishes. He could hear the conversation clear as day inside his head even now over the noise of the storm raging around him.
“I will go,” Sebastian Seabrook, the younger brother to the Duke of Wentworth said to his family as they discussed what to do about a mysterious missive they received from a young girl claiming to be their father’s natural born daughter.
“You want to go?” questioned Wentworth.
“Why not?” Sebastian sipped his tea and took a mouthful of biscuit. “I have nothing keeping me here and the official Season has ended. Why you insist on the family staying in London in the heat of the summer is beyond me.”
“Yes, well.” Wentworth cleared his throat. “Since my lovely wife, Emma, is expecting, I believe we will retire to the country for several months. Why don’t you join us and leave this investigation to our friend, Mr. Smythe.”
“Because I have to go.”
Didn’t his family understand? He needed to get away and clear his head. Find purpose in his life. Ever since the one person he thought he would wed left him, he’d drifted in a sea of uncertainty. He needed to find himself again and perhaps this quest would help him. Also, he wanted to bring the girl home to his family safe and sound.
Marissa Frederickson, the woman he thought he would marry—eventually—fell in love with a military man and to her brother’s shock ran off. Bloody hell, she just left without a word to Sebastian or anyone else for that matter. He couldn’t honestly say his heart was broken, but it pained nonetheless. He and Marissa had been friends since childhood, and everyone thought they would marry in due time. How had they all been wrong, including him?
Now Sebastian had no prospects. Nor did the thought of spending time in the country appeal to him. The thought of traveling to Northern England seeking his dead father’s natural daughter seemed as good an idea as any to break free from the monotony of London in the off Season.
Lightning struck close again and he yelled, “Bloody hell, will this storm never abate.” His horse began to tire, but he didn’t slow. More spooked than ever he continued on. The rain intensified, which Sebastian didn’t think was possible, but it did. He didn’t risk letting one hand free from gripping his horse’s mane to wipe the cold rainwater from his eyes, therefore, he could barely make out his horse’s ears, never mind where they were headed.
Suddenly, his horse stopped, spun around and reared up, this time unseating Sebastian. The ground crashed up to meet him with such force it stole his breath away. Then just as quickly, the soaking ground vanished and he went sliding down. Mud, rocks, tree branches tore painfully into his body. He threw his arms up protecting his head. He tumbled still, hit something hard, rock or tree, it didn’t matter as pain exploded throughout his thigh and arm. At least he stopped falling.
Having come to rest on his back, he took quick breaths to fight the nauseating pain and t
he spinning of his head. Sebastian tried to lean up and look at his now numbing leg but couldn’t manage it and groaned as he lay back. Every part of his body screamed in agony, and he didn’t have the energy or will to move. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and rest, but he knew it would be the death of him. So he fought it to no avail. The sound of the rain hitting the trees and leaves and splashing onto the mud soaked ground soothed him and he slept to escape the pain, the cold, and the drenching rain.
“Wakey, wakey, govner.”
The first thing Sebastian became aware of was a man’s voice and a boot shoving relentlessly into his aching side. The second thing he became aware of was every part of his body hurt like bloody hell.
Where was he?
What had happened?
Then he remembered the storm, his horse bolting and throwing him, then falling down some kind of embankment. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to wake up. Being awake meant pain, unbearable, unforgiving agonizing pain.
“Wake up.” Another set of boots came into his field of vision.
This time the boot stomped on his stomach. Sebastian curled partway on his side and retched up what little food he’d consumed that day.
“For the love of God, leave me be,” he croaked as he squinted, trying to make out the men belonging to the voices and the confounded boot.
“Oh, dinnae you worry, govner,” one of the men drawled. “Once we have what we want, we’ll leave you.” Sick laughter surrounded him. “Of course once we leave, you’ll be meeting your maker.”
Sebastian struggled to rise, to no avail. His body was wounded more than he realized. “I’ll pay you. Just leave me be.”
Strong hands patted him down, tearing his cloak and boots from his battered body. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of his coin purse being tossed around. “Seems we found ourselves a rich noble.”
Sebastian reached out with his good arm. “There is more where that came from. My family will pay greatly for my safe return.”
“We are nay do-gooders.”
Sebastian watched with horror as one of the men raised his foot and crashed it down on his head. Pain exploded, and right before darkness descended, his body was kicked and he began to tumble once again. Only this time when he stopped, freezing water splashed around him.
***
“Hurry Lachlan,” they are getting away.”
“What would ye have me do, sister of mine, give chase tae the highwaymen or save the poor mon’s life?”
Lady Teagan Murray put her hands on her hips and glared at her twin. “Weel, by the looks of him, he is already dead.”
Her brother knelt by the man, put his hand on his chest, his ear near his mouth. “He lives. Hurry, help me drag him out of the water.”
Teagan sighed, marched over and grabbed the man’s bootless feet while her brother took the arms. Stepping into the ankle deep water didn’t matter to her as her boots and clothing were already soaking wet thanks to the torrential rain. As they tugged the body, an inhuman sound fell from the man’s lips, then silence.
“Ah believe he came tae only tae pass out again,” Lachlan said. “No wonder he yelled. Look at his arm and leg. We need tae see tae his injuries immediately. Hand me something tae stop his leg from bleeding. ‘Tis sliced right tae the bone and bleeding like a sieve.”
Teagan used her teeth to tear a strip of cloth off her borrowed shirt and tied it high up the stranger’s thigh, hoping to squelch the bleeding. If it didn’t work he would be dead within minutes.
“Do ye think ‘tis wise tae bring him home?” Teagan winced at the bloody, raw gash that ran from the stranger’s temple to his jaw. “Paw could have sent him? You ken he has loyal mon scouring all of Scotland and England looking for us?”
“Even if he’s one of Paw’s mon, he willnae be going anywhere anytime soon.” His eyes went from the man to their horses. “Besides, he’s dressed tae fine. A Sassenach ah believe. Where is yer compassion?”
Teagan huffed. “Since we’re hiding for our lives, having compassion for a stranger could prove dangerous.”
“I’m hiding for my life,” Lachlan reminded her. “Ye lassie are hiding from the monster our paw betrothed ye tae.”
Teagan waved her arm out. “If Paw gets his hands on us, we are both dead and ye verra weel know it.”
“Come lass, help me get him over the back of my horse.”
“Have ye taken a good look at him? He is massive.” Her brother may be equal in size to the stranger, but she was petite and according to her father, scrawny to boot.
“Just take his bloody feet and let’s get going before he dies.”
It took all her and Lachlan’s strength to swing the man up and over on his belly on the backside of the horse. Once again wounded animal sounds came from his lips that sent chills up her spine. Her brother wanted to know where her compassion was. It burst alive inside her chest when she got a closer look at the man’s bruised and battered body and face. Her mother, God rest her soul, had taught her how to nurse the sick, bandage wounds, and set bones. But even she didn’t think she could save this man’s life.
They traveled to the outskirts of a small village, near Northumberland, to a neat two-room dwelling where they hurried to get the man inside before anyone witnessed. They dropped him as gently as they could on her bed in the one small bedchamber. “Ye undress him, while ah get water heated and clean linen,” Teagan said as she grabbed a pail and went outside to the well to draw fresh water. While the water heated in a kettle on the fire, she rummaged through her clothing and paused briefly before she tore her last un-tattered chemise into strips.
“Teagan, ah need help here, and bring a sharp knife,” Lachlan bellowed.
“Coming,” she replied as she grabbed a knife, the cloth and water with her.
“I’ll hold him still while ye cut away his clothing.”
Taking a deep breath, she ignored the man’s face, twisted up in agony, and cut away first his waistcoat, shirt, then cravat. She breathed deeply at her first sight of his well-muscled chest sprinkled with blond hair that trailed down in a line into his trousers. Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, she grabbed those muddy, wet trousers and carefully cut down both sides, aware that one slip of the knife and she could end his plans to have a family.
“Careful,” Lachlan breathed.
“Ah am...perhaps we should cover him before...”
“Don’t turn all girly on me now, lass. You took care of Uncle Colin during his last days.”
“Aye, but he was old. Oh my.” Her hands flew to her cheeks, which burned to her touch.
Lachlan grabbed a sheet and covered the lower half of their guest, sparing her virgin eyes, but not before she got an eyeful. He picked up the knife she had dropped onto the bed and finished removing the man’s clothing. “Let’s repair the mon’s leg first. I’ll hold his body while ye do it.”
Teagan inspected the man’s thigh and sighed with relief that it was not broken. She set to work with needle and thread she’d sterilized with brandy. It was all the harder to concentrate because the sheet kept moving dangerously close to exposing his manhood again. As she struggled to sew the enormous gash, the man screamed louder than she’d ever heard and he fought Lachlan, only to pass out again which was a blessing. “Ah need something to keep it stable otherwise the stitching is going to be terrible and the mon’s scar horrendous tae look at.”
“Set the arm now while he’s unconscious, then go back tae the leg.”
Setting the arm proved uneventful. While her brother hunted for a splint, she went back to her sewing. Several times she paused to stretch her sore body. Helping to carry the heavy man had strained her lower back. Finally she tied off the last stitch and removed the tourniquet to get the blood flowing through his leg again before it did any permanent damage. She dipped clean linen into warm water and bathed the blood from his leg. Then she needed to inspect the rest of his body for more wounds. She wiped the dirt from his face. The cut d
own his cheek would need stitching as well. Gently, she roamed her fingers through his thick sandy hair and came upon a deep gash. As she cleaned it, he moaned and opened one eye wide. She gasped at the pain and confusion she glimpsed in that startling blue orb.
He licked his lips and whispered, “Who are you?”
“Dinnae move. Ye are hurt. My brother and ah will care for ye.”
“How...”
Before he could mutter another word his eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out again. She ran her fingertips over his skull once more, looking for signs of a fracture. She believed he had a small one. That would explain why he kept passing out. Actually, if he stayed unconscious for a day or two it might be better for his healing. Of course, if he turned out to be one of Father’s men, she hoped he never gained consciousness. But until the truth came known, she would help and heal him. It wasn’t in her nature to be unkind.
After washing the rest of his body, excluding the part between his large solid thighs, she poured some brandy on the cuts, causing him to wince in his sleep. Cleaning needle and thread once again she set to work stitching his face. Even with the gash and one swollen eye, she admitted he was handsome. More handsome than most of the men she knew. And compared to the brut her father wanted her to marry, this man’s looks were angelic and her so-called betrothed the devil. But still she felt uneasy over his presence. Could he be trusted with their secrets?
The laceration on his face was deep, down to the cheekbone. She believed it best to set a row of stitches inside then another row of tiny ones pulling the skin together much like she’d done with his thigh. Teagan took painstaking care to make small numerous stitches on the surface to keep the scar minimal. No need to mark his handsome face with a grotesque scar.
Spencer meets his Lady Love Page 19