by Abby Ayles
“That is quite a tall order for just beginning,” Lady Abigail said. She often feared her cousin took on more than she was able to adequately cope with.
“Well, I rather hoped to start a sewing group. This is where I was hoping you could help me, Abigail,” Lady Fortuna continued. “You are so good at making friends. I hoped you would help me organize a group of ladies to meet a few times a week.”
“Well, I have your first candidate right here,” Lady Abigail said, pointing to the duchess. “I have never seen anyone embroider as finely as Isabella.”
“I would love to join if you would have me. The idea sounds wonderful,” Isabella agreed.
“Oh, Your Grace, I would appreciate that very much if you would be willing.”
“I also might suggest another addition if you would let me,” the duchess continued.
Lady Fortuna nodded in encouragement.
“My friend Lady Louisa Frasier is a very talented seamstress. I am sure she too would be happy to join your worthy cause.”
“Oh, this is so exciting,” Lady Fortuna said, clapping her hands with delight. “To already have so many potential ladies, I do not doubt that we will make a wonderful improvement to the Foundling Hospital and its residents.”
“Well, just two besides yourself,” the duke said with a little laugh.
“Three you mean, dear cousin,” Lady Fortuna countered. “There is your lovely wife, possibly her friend, and Abigail, of course.”
The duke struggled to hold back his laughter.
“Oh, Fortuna, I would be happy to rally to your cause, but you know I have no ability when it comes to sewing. I am dreadful at it, in fact.”
“I know it isn’t your strong suit,” Lady Fortuna said, always trying to see the light through the clouds. “I thought perhaps we could just start you on something very simple like the bedding or pinafores.”
“Oh, yes, Abigail. That would be easy enough,” the duchess added encouragingly. “You could make the pinafores; it’s just a simple stitch. Then when you are done, I could embellish them just a little to give each girl her own special pattern.”
“Maybe you should have Abigail start with a handkerchief instead. That way if it goes wrong, at least it will spend most of its time in a pocket or up a sleeve,” the duke said with a hearty laugh.
Lady Abigail gave her teasing brother a pointed look. She knew Christian meant his words all in good fun. To be completely honest with herself, she partly agreed with him. But Lady Abigail also was not one to shy away from a challenge.
So often, Lady Abigail found sewing and embroidery too dull to catch her attention for very long. She would much rather be out and about exploring the beautiful earth.
She was sure the image of children wearing comfortable, warm clothes and having the tools necessary for their education would be more than sufficient inspiration to put her whole focus to the task.
“I would be more than happy to help,” Lady Abigail said, wrinkling her freckled nose at her brother.
Chapter 4
As decided earlier, on the way home from their aunt’s house, the party paused to take a ride around the very popular Hyde Park. It didn’t escape the duke’s attention that his sister’s whole intent behind this diversion was not to be seen as most fine ladies wished, but instead to peek her own glance at the notorious activity.
“Come now, let your sister have some enjoyment,” Isabella said to her husband when he seemed to be steering their open carriage completely clear of the route.
What had once been the King's private road was now more commonly used by daring gentlemen in gigs with fast horses.
“It is not as if she is asking to witness dueling. You, yourself, told me that on occasion you drove your witnessed races along that course. Do not deprive her of a small amount of fun.”
The duke seemed to roll this over in his mind, before finally turning down the desired path. With any luck, no one would be there. It was, after all, just starting to be the fashionable time for turns around the park. More often, races occurred toward the end of night.
Much to the duke’s disappointment, and his sister’s excitement, there was, in fact, a group of gentlemen preparing for a friendly race.
Lady Abigail sat up immediately in her spot to scan the crowd for familiar faces. She was acquainted with several of the ladies who stood off to the side as the gentlemen prepared their steeds.
Lady Abigail was happy to see that the race at that moment would be between three men on horseback. She found this to be far more exciting than gig races.
Without hesitation, she hopped down from the carriage and made her way over to some familiar ladies.
“This seems like it will be quite the exciting event,” Miss Mary Johansson said after Lady Abigail made her introductions and inquiries to friends since last they met.
Miss Mary was the daughter of a Baron who had not much more than the title to his name. She was, however, a beauty in the extreme and Lady Abigail did not doubt that she would marry up in life.
Though they were not entirely close friends, they were, however, acquaintances that often frequented the same groups and less than desirable events for ladies such as this.
Lady Abigail looked over the riders. Two she knew well. They were usual contestants here on the King's private road. Though they had long since outgrown the age of young pups, they still seemed to wish to prove themselves.
The third rider was a man she had never seen before. She couldn’t help but let her eyes linger on him as he checked his saddle and the condition of his horse.
He was dressed very finely in a velvet riding jacket and matching brown trousers. His high boots looked to be of excellent black leather, and the crop in his hand was held with an air of confidence.
“Who is that gentleman in the middle? I don’t think I have ever made his acquaintance.”
“Why, that is Lord Franklin Stuartson, Earl of Heshing, Lady Abigail,” Miss Mary instructed, happy to have a bit of information to dole out.
“Heshing,” Lady Abigail thought the name over. It did have a bit of familiarity to it.
“I believe this is one of his first seasons in town. He has just taken his father’s seat in the House of Lords this year.”
Lady Abigail figured the name was only familiar to her by way of passing word from her father or brother. She took a mental note to perhaps ask the duke about the gentleman when he was slightly less of a vexing older brother.
The riders mounted their steeds and prepared for the long stretch of road ahead of them. The small crowd clapped in excitement.
“Have you placed a bet?” Miss Mary asked, motioning to Lord Fenton, who was the usual orchestrator of such events.
Lady Abigail looked over at her brother. He had just finished helping Isabella down from the carriage and together they were making their way over. Had she been here without him, she would have happily placed a sixpence on Lord Heshing.
It was not at all proper for ladies to witness such events, let alone bet on them. She decided it was best, with her brother present, not to do so.
Lady Abigail couldn’t help but notice the gasp and whispers that surrounded her brother as he escorted his wife over to witness the race. It made more sense to her now why he had been so uptight over the course of their trip. People undoubtedly thought differently of him now that he was the Duke of Wintercrest.
“I have never seen one of these before,” the duchess said, coming to Lady Abigail’s side. “It does seem rather exciting.”
She leaned closer to Lady Abigail’s ear, “Don’t tell Christian, but I put a bet on the chestnut mare.”
Lady Abigail looked at her sister-in-law with shock. The Duchess of Wintercrest, for the most part, was a very proper lady. It was no surprise that this was her first race, but slightly scandalous that she had placed a bet.
Lady Abigail looked over the chestnut mare and rider. It was Lord Heshing, spoken of before. She certainly hoped he won and told herself it was
for the reason of the duchess’s bet.
Within a flash, the race was on, and the three men went speeding down the road. The goal of the race was to travel the whole length, turning just before Kensington Gardens, and making the full length back. The first rider to cross the line drawn at the start would be the winner.
Not only would he have the pride of winning the race, but he would also get to take home his companions’ steeds.
For many gentlemen, the time-consuming act of training, purchasing well-bred horses, and racing was merely to pass the time. For a select few, such as Mr. Shawn James, second son to Viscount Sheffield, who now pressed his horse with every ounce of strength, the gamble of a race was a chance to make something more of oneself.
The crowd quietly chatted together as the riders disappeared from view. Each member had their own opinion of who was in the lead and the prospect of the return trip.
It wasn’t long before the loud sound of hoofs again reverberated on the gravel road. All eyes watched and bodies leaned, to get the first glimpse of the rider first to come into view.
Lady Abigail held in her cheer on seeing that it was Lord Heshing in the lead. Mr. James was quickly gaining on the earl and Abigail was torn with nerves. She knew it would be more right for her to wish Mr. James to win the race, as he was sure to need the win more than an earl, but she couldn’t help but wish the champion to be the intriguing new lord.
Finally, the last seconds of the race were upon them. Some in the crowd began to shout or cheer in the final moments. It was just barely by a nose of the horse that Lord Heshing won the race.
Lady Abigail couldn’t help but cheer along with her sister-in-law who had won the bet, but with no experience, had no idea what that meant, exactly.
“Your Grace,” Lord Fenton said, coming up to the duke, having not yet been introduced to his wife, “here are your winnings. Congratulations.”
“I thank you, Fenton,” the duke said, “but I did not place any bets.”
Lord Fenton looked between the duke and the rest of the trio, a little unsure what to do.
“Was this your doing?” the duke turned on Lady Abigail.
“It was mine, actually,” Isabella said with an upturned chin. “I’ve always wanted to bet on a horse race. I must be very good at it as well, seeing how I won my first try.”
She promptly removed the money from Lord Fenton’s hands as they were introduced to each other by way of her husband.
The duke smiled softly at his wife and, with a shaking head, laughed.
“I believe my sister has been a bad influence on you,” he said.
“Not at all. If anything, my love, it is you that has been the influence. In fact, you seemed to know Lord Fenton very well for someone shaming his sister for attending such adventures.”
“It is one thing for a man to be present at races, a lady is entirely different.”
“And what of a duke and duchess?” she retorted with a smile on her lips.
“I suppose we will discover that tomorrow in the gossip column. Come, you two. Let us be off before we are noticed any more than we have been.”
“Oh, please may I go congratulate the rider first? You said you know him,” the duchess asked her husband in her sweet way.
Lady Abigail’s heart did a little leap at the thought of meeting this handsome man who seemed to be the champion of the hour.
The duke led the two ladies over to Lord Heshing. He was gratefully taking the congratulations from others as he stroked his beautiful steed.
“Your Grace,” he said, with a bow to the duke.
“Please let me have the pleasure of introducing my wife, the Duchess of Wintercrest, and younger sister, Lady Abigail Grant.”
Lord Heshing politely bowed and greeted both ladies.
“It was fortunate you happened to stop by today,” Lord Heshing said to the duke. “I would have hated to lose a race in front of Your Grace.”
“If I heard correctly the rumors swirling around the crowd of onlookers, losing doesn’t happen too often for you,” the duke retorted.
“Though I suspect that would not be the case if it were still your day of horse races.”
Both Lady Abigail and the duchess looked at the duke in utter shock.
“His Grace was quite a legend,” Lord Heshing said in answer to their expressions.
“And here you were giving me such a hard time,” Lady Abigail said. “And you used to actually race horses yourself?”
“It was a very long time ago, when I was just a young pup without a dukedom to consider.”
“Still, you teased me all morning long,” Lady Abigail said with hands on her hips.
“Unfortunately, Lord Heshing, I may never speak to you again as you have just ruined my image in front of my wife and given my sister sufficient cause to vex me for many days,” the duke said in a teasing fashion.
“Oh, absolutely not. I think I rather like Lord Heshing’s honesty about your youthful years. I think we must have him over for dinner soon to hear more of your galivanting tales,” the duchess retorted.
“I would be most honored by such an invitation, Your Grace,” Heshing said with a slight bow.
Lady Abigail couldn’t help but notice that though he spoke the words to Isabella, he did it with eyes on her. It sent little chills of excitement up and down her spine as his soft brown eyes seemed to see deep inside her inner self and find it of interest.
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The Lady’s Patient
Chapter 1
Kitty looked at the pile of suitcases on her bed and smiled in relief. It was time to return home. At last!
It had been a pleasant stay at the resort. She had enjoyed her usual week, plus an extra two days when, during a massage session, her elbow had become too loose and almost came out of its socket. But now everything seemed to be in place again.
Suffering from rheumatism, even only a mild case, was not easy. Kitty knew she was blessed to be as strong as she was and to have the money for proper care.
The doctor knocked on the door and walked in looking pleased. He smiled warmly. “How are you feeling, Miss Langley?”
She smiled back. “Very well, thank you. I feel revitalized and prepared for my journey.”
“We have not yet had news about your coach, but no doubt it shall arrive soon,” the doctor reassured her. “How is your elbow?”
“No complaints, doctor,” she replied.
“And everything else is as it should be?” he asked.
She nodded. “A thousand times better than when I first arrived.”
The doctor smiled and scribbled some notes into his journal. “You have done very well, very well indeed, Miss Langley,” he said. “I am sure that Dr. Allen will be able to pick up from where we're leaving it off.”
Dr. Allen was the family doctor. He had cared for Kitty ever since she was a little girl, for her mother when she became ill. And now, he tended to her father as well ever since a terrible bout of pneumonia left him with a painful cough.
Dr. Allen would have appreciated his three-week long holiday, but would no doubt be home several days before her coach arrived, and her room would be perfectly prepared for her as if she had never left.
As soon as her coach was announced, Kitty made her way to the entrance. They always offered her a wheelchair, although she had not needed to use one for years. It was as though nobody believed she was able to get better rather than worse.
“Oh, we'll miss you, sweetie,” the head nurse said, adjusting Kitty's bonnet.
“And I shall miss you,” Kitty replied. “Everyone is so kind to me here, I feel truly at home. I cannot wait to return for my next rest.”
“Unless you require further treatment,” the nurse remarked.
Kitty felt a slight concern. “I am in no pain, I hope I shall not need treatment at least until the end of the year.”
�
�I hope so too, my dear,” the nurse replied.
Kitty made her way to the coach, where her last case was being firmly tied to the roof of the vehicle ready for the long journey home. Inside the coach sat a maid and Kitty's travel bags by her feet. She was ready to attend to anything that Kitty needed on her trip home.
As the coach pulled away and rolled down the hill towards the docks where the ferry would be no doubt just arriving, Kitty looked out of the rear window.
It was always a little sad to see the resort disappear into the distance. But she also knew that she would be back before long. Her father would not allow her to go more than a few months without treatment. She huffed a breath of indignation. She did not need it.
As a young girl, she had needed vast amounts of medical care. Nobody had dared think that a child her age could be suffering rheumatism, and it only dawned on them when she was six that she had been suffering from it her entire life.
At six, she was barely able to walk, and always in intense pain at her knees, ankles and back. So much so that she rarely left her bed. She was restricted to a wheelchair until she was ten.
But even as she grew stronger and healthier, her father seemed to refuse to acknowledge it. It was getting to a point where she was receiving treatments she did not need, just to comfort him. She lived an active life and enjoyed long walks around their property. She wasn’t a little girl anymore.
Her mother's death had really affected Kitty’s father. He was always protective of Kitty, but when her mother passed away he became even more overbearing. From that point onward he went from simply guarding her when she was in pain, to treating her as though she were made of the thinnest crystal.
And no matter how effective her treatments were, no matter how well she felt, he insisted on steam baths, massages, special oils and ointments—anything that was recommended. Although she was tired of this, she did not complain. She smiled, accepted her treatment, and told him how much better she felt after them. She couldn't hurt him.