by Sahara Kelly
As quickly as he could, Edmund raised his bound arms and screamed so loud everyone jumped. Then he ran full tilt at the leader, catching him by surprise and knocking him to the ground.
A shot rang out, then another and suddenly the entire forest was swarming with uniformed Hussars, shouting loudly and brandishing their swords.
After that, everything sort of faded into a dull roar, which Edmund totally ignored. Because Rosaline was cutting him free and then…in his arms where she belonged. Holding her tight, close against him, feeling her warmth, he breathed at last.
“Rosaline…” He looked down at her.
And gasped. There was blood on her face, a cut just beneath her eye, and she was pale as a ghost.
“Edmund…” she whispered faintly. “You’re all right. You’re not hurt.”
“No love, but you are.”
She winced as he touched her arms. “Uhh…I think you may be…right.”
Frowning, Edmund pushed away the cloak to reveal a blood-soaked sleeve. “Oh God.” He wrapped her up and looked around, spotting Simon talking to Mansfield while the soldiers restrained the three men and looked as though they were having a good time doing it.
“Simon,” he shouted. “Rosaline. She’s hurt. A bullet I think, in her arm.”
“The horse.” Simon shouted back. “This way.”
“I’m going to carry you, love. Hold on.” Edmund wrapped the cloak around her even more tightly, picked her up and ran after Simon, ignoring Mansfield and the Hussars.
He was on the horse with Rosaline in his arms in mere moments.
“You know the way home?” Simon’s face was taut with worry.
“I’ll find it. Take care of this for me, Simon.” He nodded at the milling soldiers. “Settle it.”
“I will.”
With that, Edmund turned the mount and gave it an encouraging kick. The beast responded with a burst of speed that almost unseated him, and made Rosaline moan a little.
“Not long, darling. We’re on our way home.”
She smiled at him. “Home. It sounds so good. You’re not to go away again, Edmund. I forbid it.”
“You do?” How he held both her and the reins, he didn’t know, but he was, so he kept on doing it.
“Yes. I can’t stand it when you’re gone, you see. Because I love you.”
His heart thundered like the hoofbeats of their mount. “I love you too, Rosaline Ridlington.”
She looked at him, eyes dark in a white face, a tiny sliver of sunlight catching a lock of her hair and making it glow. “You do? I’m so glad.”
And she closed her eyes, her body going slack in his arms.
“No…no no no nooooo…”
Chapter Twenty-One
“What happened then?” Hecate’s eyes were wide with distress as the group around the fireplace related the events of the morning.
“I’m ashamed to admit I fainted in his arms,” chuckled Rosaline, “although it was probably the most dramatic thing I’ve ever done.”
“Don’t ever do it again, if you please.” Edmund hovered over her, making sure everything was within her reach.
She loathed the sling, but the doctor had insisted. Privately, she knew it would come off at the earliest opportunity. “I won’t, I promise. Fainting is not one of my talents.”
“I’m tempted to say that rash stupidity is,” remarked James. “I’m still very angry at you for such a harebrained plan.”
She lifted her chin and stared at him. “It worked. Why belabor the point?”
“Yes, but at what cost?” James swallowed and waved his hand at her arm. “You… you might have been killed.” He looked at Edmund. “Both of you.”
She understood. “We weren’t, James dear. And knowing you were here taking care of the home front, as it were…it gave us both the chance to do what had to be done.” She held out her hand to him. “I thank you. Don’t be cross with me anymore, please?”
He came to her and leaned over the arm of her chair. “You are the very devil. I have no idea how Edmund puts up with you.” He dropped a light kiss on her cheek—the one without the big bruise. “But you’re our devil, so I suppose that makes it all right.”
She twinkled at him. “You’re very special to us, James. Remember that.”
“She’s right,” added Edmund. “Thank you, James.”
The two men nodded at each other, and Rosaline wondered at the simplicity of it all for them. A couple of words, a nod, occasionally a handshake and all was well. For women? It would take weeks to cover that process.
“Does anyone know more details yet?” Letitia poured more tea with a hand that just managed not to shake. “Like why all this happened and who those men were?”
“I know the bare bones,” said Simon. “After you and Edmund left, Rosaline, I had chance to see and hear what was going on. Mansfield, bless his perfect mustache, really took charge in a most impressive way. The prisoners were manacled with their own chains—“ he shot a grin at his brother, “one of which was yours, I think, Edmund.”
“Good. I hope it hurt him quite dreadfully.”
“Do go on, Simon.” Hecate settled into the sofa and tucked her feet up beneath her in the most inelegant way, which everyone ignored since Simon’s story took precedence over etiquette.
“Well, Farnwell was more than ready to go home, I don’t mind telling you. When the Lieutenant told him he was free to leave, he was out of there like a rabbit to a bolt hole. Mansfield did tell me that they had also overheard that slip of the tongue you noted, Edmund. And apparently that confirmed some other information. They had a pretty good idea where they were supposed to be headed. But to whom…that I was not told. Not even sure Mansfield knew.”
“Probably someone much higher up at Whitehall,” muttered James. “Damned secrets all over the place there.”
“Maybe,” shrugged Simon. “That I can’t say.”
“Oh well,” added Rosaline. “At least we’re all safe. Oh, but the ladies…Tabitha and Lady Beresford?”
“Gone,” said James. “As soon as Mansfield returned, his regiment was packed and in formation in less than half an hour. The doctor arrived to tend to you, Rosaline, just as they marched out. It would seem that they had transportation awaiting them in the Vale, so the ladies were in the cart and it was returned by one of the villagers late this afternoon.”
“So she’s—they’ve—gone.” Simon looked at nothing in particular.
“Yes.” James nodded. “Lady Beresford and Tabitha…I suppose we should refer to her by her correct title, Lady Ellsmere, have departed for London under the sharp eyes of Lieutenant Mansfield of the Perfect Mustache and in the secure company of a regiment of the Prince’s Own Hussars. Can’t be much safer than that.”
“I wonder what she knew,” mused Letitia. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to be a spy. In France, of all places.”
Edmund shrugged. “There will always be people gathering for a party or two, especially those with privilege and power. And where there are parties, there are beautiful women ready to listen to words falling from those powerful mouths. Drink has been known to loosen tongues, my dear. I’m sure that’s true either side of the channel.”
“Good point,” concurred Rosaline. “I know from my experiences in town long ago, that there were far too many indiscreet conversations, even at something as innocuous as a piano recital.”
“You were a spy, my love?” Edmund grinned down at her, making her heart beat faster. When had he developed that warmth and, dare she say it, love in his expression? She would find out. Later.
“No, my Lord. Not me. I probably heard more than a few secrets, given my late husband’s position and acquaintances, but truthfully I wasn’t interested in either listening to them or repeating them. That’s as true now as it was then. So no trips to France so that I can get a highly placed French government official drunk and then elicit his secrets for my journal.” She chuckled at the thought. “I don’t even keep a j
ournal, come to think of it.”
“I suppose this is truly a case of all’s well that ends well,” said Letitia with a happy sigh. “Although I would have liked to know who was behind it all.”
“That’s for other people now, not us. Our part in that international drama has been played.” Edmund looked at his wife. “And I believe Rosaline is tiring. It’s not every day one receives a glancing wound from a stray bullet.”
“I still can’t believe he hit me. I know my bullet went way off target, but when you screamed, Edmund, he was so distracted I think he truly thought he was shot and pulling his pistol was a reflex action. If he’d aimed…”
“Don’t.” His grip on her hand tightened into an iron band. “Just don’t.”
“Very well.” She squeezed back. “But you’re right. I am a bit tired.”
That was enough to send everyone fluttering around her, until she finally accepted Edmund’s request that he carry her upstairs.
Snug in his arms, she smiled at the family and waved goodnight over his shoulder, with her one usable hand. “Damn this sling. I’m taking it off as soon as I get to my room, Edmund, and don’t you dare argue with me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, love.”
Satisfied, she lay her head on his jacket, content to let him whisk her upstairs and into their suite, where he kicked the door closed and took her over to his bed.
“Here?”
“It’s bigger than yours. And you’re injured.” He held up his hand after depositing her on top of the quilts. “I know, you’re taking off your sling and going to pretend nothing happened. But it’s going to burn and ache for a while. You’ll see. The extra room will be welcomed. And you can put a pillow beneath it if you need to…”
His voice tapered off as he stared at his wife. “God, I love you, Rosaline.”
“I thought I heard you mention something of the kind.” She slid off the bed and turned around for him to loosen her gown.
“And, Lady Ridlington, I believe yours was the first voice to speak those words.” Her dress slipped free of her shoulders and he eased it down past her bandage so that it could fall to the floor. He kissed her between her shoulder blades.
She shivered at the delicious caress. “Yes, my Lord. I believe you are correct.”
He bent down and unlaced her boots, helping her step free of them and letting his hands drift to the tops of her stockings, where he unfastened the garters.
She shivered even more at the warmth of his hands as they stroked the sleek skin of her thighs and calves, rolling down the delicate silk to her ankles and then off to be thrown aside with the rest of her clothing.
Left only in her chemise, she turned around, watching his eyes as he found the ribbons holding it all together. “I love you, Edmund.”
His eyes shot up, meeting her gaze.
“’Tis true,” she continued, never looking away from him. “I don’t know quite when it happened, but it did. And when you left for France, I was so worried, but even then I couldn’t quite bring myself to admit it…until the night fell and I knew you wouldn’t be back until morning. Then I realized it. I was so terrified because I loved you and perhaps I’d lost you before I had chance to tell you.”
He let her ribbons dangle as he rid himself of his clothing. “I love you too. For my part, I’m convinced that seeing you above me in the hearse was the instant my heart took flight.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Really?”
“Well, perhaps not at that exact moment…” His breeches topped the pile of clothing on the floor next to the bed. “But shortly thereafter. Or maybe it was hearing you read poetry to a chicken. So many unique moments—I can’t really be sure of which one was the ultimate defining instant when my love burst into bloom…”
“Edmund,” she said.
“Yes my darling?”
“Do shut up.” She let her chemise drop and leaned toward him, rubbing her breasts over his chest, sighing with pleasure.
Edmund, eagerly embracing the role of loving husband, gently clasped his naked wife into his arms and whispered the words every woman has wanted to hear since the beginning of time…
“Yes dear.”
Epilogue
Two months later, Ridlington Chase
“Are you sure you’re warm enough?” Edmund approached his wife with a soft wrap over his arm.
She sighed. “I’m perfectly fine here in the sunshine.” Rosaline looked around. “It’s a glorious spring day, there’s barely a breeze, a scant cloud or two in the sky and you’re attempting to wrap me up like a package.”
He grinned. “It is my intent to take good care of you, love.” He touched her cheek with his hand. “Both of you.”
Rosaline nodded, letting her face rest in his palm for a moment. “I know. Thank you.”
“My Lady…yoo hoo…” The call was from one of the village women, Mrs. Trumbull, who was nobly manning the pie table and attempting to keep both flies and children away.
“I have to go, Edmund.” Rosaline gathered her skirts in preparation for the short walk across the front lawn of Ridlington Chase.
“Very well, but I want to see you in one of those chairs for at least fifteen minutes every hour. And with your parasol.” His eyebrows furrowed into what she privately called his terrorizing frown. It had never worked on her, but she accepted that he could use it with great effect on others.
“As you wish, husband.” Her tone was demure.
He laughed and gave her the wrap. “Go. Deal with Mrs. Trumbull’s pies. I’m off to judge the Sow of the Year contest.”
“Pick a good one…”
“I will.”
Rosaline strolled across the green, enjoying the moment—so very different now than when she’d first arrived at Ridlington.
The grass was lush in the sunshine, no longer struggling to survive. There were pink splashes amongst the dark green rhododendron leaves, and although this year’s blooms would be small, next year after a good pruning, they should burst forth in all their majesty. They ringed the front lawn and it would be something to see.
At this moment, however, there were several tables laden with assorted village items—the very first Ridlington Spring Fair that had been held in many years.
Mrs. Trumbull and her cohorts had approached Rosaline not long after the incident, as they all referred to the attempted kidnapping of the Baron. Apparently many of the villagers had great memories of the old Spring Fair, run by whichever Ridlington wife was in residence at the time. When Hecate’s mother had passed away, the Fair languished and was never revived.
Rosaline agreed that this was indeed a wonderful time to restore some of the Ridlington traditions, both at the Chase and in the village itself.
Of course, the influx of capital had helped. One of the best things to emerge from the incident was the arrival of a bank draft from a prestigious London bank. The sum made even Edmund’s eyes widen, and the brief note merely told him it was in payment “for services rendered to His Majesty’s Government”.
And that was all.
After an evening of discussion amongst the family, it was decided to first reward every crew member handsomely. They’d patiently waited for some kind of payment and it was only fair since they’d crewed the ship.
A sum was set aside for Ridlington Chase itself, to help with repair, restoration and replacing whatever was on the verge of dying. Cook was still lovingly stroking her new stove every time she passed it, but there were other needs that could now be met. Maybe even a better henhouse for Henrietta.
The balance, it was decided, would be put into a “Ridlington Fund”. This would be available to residents faced with any kind of hardship or disaster. Edmund and Rosaline felt that it was their responsibility to act as caretakers as much as possible, and to do so without offering charity.
Two weeks after the Fund went into effect, young Tilly Forest had lost all her chickens to a fox attack. Since her eggs provided a portion of her income, the Fun
d was able to replace her flock for her, and ensure she could continue to live comfortably with her elderly mother.
It was, agreed everyone, a very good thing indeed.
Yes, thought Rosaline, life was improving every day. She had her husband, her family, and now…a secret of their own. A new life beginning, something she had only shared with Edmund. Later she’d tell everyone, but at the moment it was only the two of them, hugging, laughing, and falling asleep with Edmund’s arms protectively around her and their child.
She noticed Letitia, walking along the gravel drive, accompanied by James. They were in each other’s company a lot, but Rosaline was not unduly concerned. James had followed through with an idea he’d come up with on one of his first visits—to buy a piece of land adjoining Ridlington Chase.
He had already developed the plans for a snug hunting box, although to Rosaline’s eyes it looked a lot more like a fully-fledged country home. Letitia had been allowed to add quite a few suggestions, which boded well for the future.
It would be a good match should they decide to deepen their relationship, even though James had a few years on Letitia, and she could not offer any kind of substantial dowry.
Time will tell, she thought. It always does.
A light laugh came from Kitty. She and Richard had come down from London for the affair, excited at the changes and the chance to spend time at home. They were much the same, although Kitty seemed more sure of herself, having gained a little confidence from her peers in town.
Richard, however, was as lighthearted as ever, making everyone laugh as he chased a baby goat around the grass.
Hecate caught the little thing in mid bounce and lifted it high as it bleated for its mother.
Then she tucked it beneath her arm, whispered to it, and the bleating stopped, to be replaced by the sort of adoringly idiotic look only a baby goat could produce.
Rosaline wondered about Hecate. And she worried about her as well. The young woman was so much more complex that even Rosaline could imagine. There were some gifts there—her uncanny ability to sense things, not to mention her skill with animals. A couple of hundred years ago, Rosaline felt sure Hecate might have been in danger of a trial for witchcraft.