“Because of us!” Henrietta’s scalp prickled in horror.
“No. He wrote a manifesto for the Jacobins and voiced his strong opinions of how the Revolution should be run. His work attracted the attention of the Committee of Public Safety who accused him of being a counterrevolutionary.”
Henrietta expelled a breath. “He must have been the one the gypsy spoke of,” she said thoughtfully.
“What gypsy?”
“I’ll tell you about it some other time. It’s not important anymore.”
“And now England is at war with France.”
“You will not see any of that war, darling.” She rested her head on his good shoulder. “And even when you are strong again, you shall be far too busy.”
He arched a brow, a grin tugging at his mouth. “I’ll be busy, will I?”
She traced a finger over his lips. “Yes, loving me.”
* * *
Two months later, Mr. and Mrs. Hartley returned from their honeymoon in Brighton. They visited Gabrielle and Uncle Philippe in London. Uncle Philippe had regained his strength and was soon to join Louis Joseph de Bourbon, Prince of Condé, who organized émigrés into a counter-revolutionary army at Coblenz. And Aunt Gabrielle had resumed her literary soirees.
A week later, Henrietta and Christian arrived at Beaumont Court. Her father was waiting on the carriage drive to greet them with Verity beside him. She was increasing, the baby due in five months and glowed with vibrant good health.
“You look well, Verity,” Henrietta said, kissing both cheeks.
Verity greeted Christian, then took Henrietta’s arm. “We French have a word for how well marriage agrees with you, Madame Hartley. Éclat. Come inside luncheon awaits.”
Some hours later, Henrietta wandered through the familiar gardens around her family home. It pleased her that as a married lady, she could do as she pleased in many matters. Her gowns for instance. She smoothed the skirts of her lavender, poult de soie gown with its mulberry silk petticoat, as she roamed over the lawns toward the summerhouse, her hat trailing from her hand. The lavender bonnet strings caught on a rose bush, and she bent to untangle them. Voices came from the summer house. She smiled when she recognized her two favorite men. She was about to call out but paused at the mention of her name.
“Much as I’d like to I cannot tell Henrietta,” Christian was saying. “I am sworn to secrecy.”
“She would understand,” her father said. “Do you feel the mission was a failure?”
Henrietta released her hat from the thorns but stayed where she was. She should make her presence known, but her curiosity got the better of her.
“Lady Atkyns believes so, certainly. A brave woman, she was determined to carry out her promise to her friend Marie Antoinette. She did try to save the dauphin.”
“What occurred? Are you able to reveal it?”
“Gossip will spread through parliament, I imagine. But I prefer to tell you the unvarnished truth.” Christian stood with his back to her, his elbows resting on the wooden bannister rail. “Lady Atkyns moored her ships off the French coast and waited for the dauphin to be delivered into her hands to be taken to England. It was not considered a wise plan, but the English royalists saw a French king as a stabilizing force.
“Our mission was to rescue him from the Committee of Public Safety. We waylaid the guard, but even with the advantage of surprise, only three of us survived. When I was hurt I was smuggled onto a ship and brought home. As my surviving colleagues were unable to bring the dauphin to England, they placed him with a peasant family somewhere deep in the French countryside.”
“So, will he ever reign as king?”
“Who knows?”
Henrietta peeked out of her hiding place as Christian shrugged and turned to stare out into the garden. “With luck on his side he can grow up a free citizen and breed for future generations. And maybe one day either he or his kin will sit on the French throne, but the Ancien regime will never rule France again.”
“A satisfactory outcome,” her father said. “You are courageous, Christian. I wish this might become known. You agents are seldom rewarded enough for your bravery.”
“The dauphin’s mother was the brave one,” Christian’s voice sounded gruff. “Marie Antoinette refused to be rescued. She didn’t want to desert her children. There are still aristocrats imprisoned and awaiting death. I wish there was more I could do.”
From her hiding place behind a lilac bush, Henrietta opened her mouth in horror, and almost leaped from her hiding place to confront him.
“But I must leave that to others,” Christian added, much to her relief.
“Let’s return to the house,” her father said. “And see what the ladies are up to.”
Henrietta darted behind a camellia hedge. Skirting the terraced yew garden, she took a well-used shortcut to the house through the kitchen gardens. Lady Atkyns was a brave adventurer, as well as an actress, she mused. How good that such brave women existed outside the strictures of society. Her request to go on the stage had not been so unreasonable although she’d decided against it. It would be flying the face of fortune, and she had her heart’s desire.
She hurried into the drawing room and was seated on the green damask chair with a book in her hands when the men entered. “Where have you two been? Sharing secrets, we women are not privy to?” she asked with a smile. She was gratified to see them look sheepish.
“Nothing of importance.” Christian smiled at her. “My, how pretty you look on that chair. It’s the same lovely green as your eyes.”
She came and kissed him and hugged her father. Nothing meant more to her than to have them safe and well.
The following Monday, she and Christian arrived at Owlpeg Manor, Christian’s country house in Gloucestershire. Henrietta adored everything about her new home, its Cotswold stone walls thick with ivy and climbing roses. Through the mullioned windows, she could see the River Severn flowing through a copse of graceful willow trees, beneath a cloudless pewter blue sky.
Three months later, Henrietta returned from consulting the housekeeper to find Christian pulling his fishing rods from a cupboard. He was so much stronger now, almost his old self, although some fragility remained. She believed it to be more the violence he’d witnessed than his wound, which had healed well, and she was determined to make him whole again through the power of her love. She would never tell him that she overheard him speak of his last campaign, but hoped he would one day confide in her.
She smiled at him as he examined a box of hooks. “Am I to be a fisherman’s widow?”
He raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You fear you will be neglected?” He closed the box, took her hand, and led her up the stairs to their bedchamber. Once inside, he locked the door and leaned against it, slipping his arms around her waist.
“You smell delicious.” He pressed kisses over her neck and down to her breasts, drawing away her bodice.
Henrietta pulled him against her, her hands on his backside, his hardness pressed against her.
“You’re a bold lass,” he said, as they settled on the bed. He threw up her skirts, smiled at her as he unbuttoned his pants. With a lustful grin, he pushed her gently back onto the damask coverlet of the oak four-poster.
Someone called from the garden beneath the window. “That’s my neighbor, Jim Pertwee, come to fish for trout. Splendid fellow,” he said as he stroked between her thighs until she moaned. He settled between her legs. “You’ll like him.” The last word ended with a groan and a murmur of pleasure from Henrietta as he pushed into her.
Henrietta wrapped her legs around him. Her hips rose to meet his urgent thrusts, her hands under his shirt stroking his smooth skin. She had thought about this all morning. Christian came as the stamp of the butler’s boots sounded on the stairs. He rolled off her regretfully. “Tonight, my love.” He kissed her. “I promise to be a more considerate lover.”
He adjusted his clothing and was gone.
Henr
ietta stretched, smiling, as a pleasant lassitude washed over her. Tonight, she would tell him her news. He wished for a big family. She went to the looking glass to check on her hair before returning downstairs. He always managed to destroy its creation, preferring her locks down over her shoulders. She smiled and began to tidy the loose strands. If the baby was a boy, he’d make a nice fishing companion for Christian. She twisted the apple green ribbon through her fingers. And a girl might wish to go on the stage.
Whichever gift they were given would be treasured.
Epilogue
Eighteen months later…
As the applause filled Amersham village hall, Henrietta and Verity curtseyed, along with the other players. She grinned at Christian and her father seated in the audience. Molière’s School for Wives had been a remarkable success, the production put on by locals with money raised for the poor.
“Well, Henrietta? How did you enjoy your first acting role?” Verity asked.
“I loved it!” Henrietta gazed down at her handsome husband. “But it’s my last. I have no desire to leave our daughter, Catherine, to perform on the London stage.”
Despite wearing the shabby clothes of Georgette, the serving woman, Verity was still incredibly beautiful. “Very wise,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t intend to leave young George with your father either. There is no telling what they will get up to in my absence if I resumed my stage career.”
“Then perhaps we can put on another play here?” Henrietta asked.
“Listen to that applause. Of course, we will.”
Flowers landed at their feet. Verity scooped up a rose Anthony had tossed as Christian vaulted onto the stage. Henrietta laughed and ran to hug him.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Maggi Andersen and her husband, a retired lawyer, live in a quaint old town in the Southern Highlands of New South Wales, Australia. She has a BA in English and an MA in Creative Writing.
When not creating stories, Maggi reads, enjoys her garden, long walks and feeding the local wildlife. Her kookaburras (Australian Kingfishers) prefer to be hand fed.
Maggi’s books and novellas are Amazon bestsellers in Regency and suspense. She has published more than 20 novels and novellas and writes in several genres, contemporary and historical romance, romantic suspense, and young adult novels.
Maggi loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website.
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Unmasking Lady Helen – The Kinsey Family
Book One
Sometimes the biggest risk we take is with our hearts.
1821 London
At twenty-four, Lady Helen Kinsey has her future carefully mapped out. A life of gentle quietude in the country caring for her unmarried brothers and walking with her dog. It does not include marriage, a dream she banished after her first Season. But when a handsome earl enters Kinsey House in London on a mission to find out why their footman was poisoned, she finds herself drawn into solving the mystery. And despite resistance on her part worthy of an army maneuver, she is irresistibly drawn to the earl himself.
After Whitehall receives a letter warning of a plot against the Crown, Jason, Captain Lord Peyton, is sent to investigate. Surely the famous explorer, Lord Lawrence Kinsey could not be behind it. He is engrossed in roaming ancient libraries and tombs in the East and bringing back their treasures for the museum. But after Peyton finds a fragment of a burned letter, it appears that something dangerous lurks in Kinsey House, and Peyton becomes determined to keep the defenseless family safe, and one member particularly. Lady Helen has built a wall around herself and holds him at arm’s length. But arm’s length is not where Peyton wants to be.
As the mystery unfolds, it becomes imperative for Peyton and Lady Helen to work together, very closely indeed.
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Unmasking Lady Helen – The Kinsey Family Book 1
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Lady Honor’s Debt (Free)
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Lady Hope and the Duke of Darkness
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The Kinsey Family
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Stand Alone Regencies
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How to Tame a Rake
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An Improper Earl
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Hostage to Love Page 26