by Jenn LeBlanc
Lilly’s father placed his hand on Perry’s shoulder. “Son, I have to thank you for protecting my daughter. About that question you had for me. Ask me again. This time the answer will be yes.”
Lilly’s jaw dropped. “You said no?”
“As is his right,” Perry said quietly, “though I had planned to convince him soon enough.”
Lilly’s father laughed. “You’ve succeeded.” He pushed Perry away and took Lilly in his arms. “I am so proud of you. My Lilly.”
“Oh, Papa.” She looked up into his teary eyes and smiled. “Don’t you know I didn’t have a choice? I’m brave because I’m your daughter.” He hugged her again, and Lilly thought he might break her, his embrace was so tight. When he finally released her, she glanced around to find that someone had covered the dead with blankets and Perry was at the base of the steps, speaking with Calder and Warrick.
She could tell he was having a difficult time suppressing a smile, his face taking on an awkward grimace as they discussed what should happen next. She found it rather difficult herself, so she turned to go into the house, away from all the death.
My precious Lilly,
I cannot tell you how amazed I am with you every day. How proud I am of you, how much I hope you have a beautiful future, with a wonderful husband, who will give you all the children and happiness your heart desires.
At times I wish that would be me, but as you keep saying it can never be; it can never be.
Simply know that I treasure you. You have brought me much joy, and opened my eyes to a new sort of happiness.
I love you for that,
Perry
Lilly read the inscription in the book again then looked up to the church, her hand resting on her father’s arm. This was it. Had it only been a fortnight since she’d crawled into Perry’s carriage and hid under the bench? So much had happened.
“It’s time.” Her father’s voice cracked on the words, and she turned to him.
“I love you, Papa.”
“I love you, Lillybug.”
“He is a good man, Papa.”
“He is that. Are you ready?”
She nodded and turned to the doors of the church. They were swept open before her and it took Lilly’s breath away. The floor was littered with crushed purple heather, the earthy scent released into the air with every step she took down the aisle. Her gaze followed the heather to the steps, then up to the man at the altar. He was dressed in a kilt, with a crisp white shirt, black wool coat, and tartan sash displaying several bejeweled emblems pinned across his chest. The sun through the stained glass struck his chest as she moved toward him, and the walls of the church reflected the light from the sparkling jewels like dancing fire.
Her eyes drifted to the vicar, then down, and she realized he was standing in front of a beautifully tooled, deep-brown saddle. The heather was woven through the legs of the stand it rested on, and a long strand of pearls wrapped around one of the stirrups. She looked back to Perry, whose smile was so broad she couldn’t see anything else. Except his eyes. Which twinkled devilishly.
She held tight to her father as he led her toward her future. It was a heady mix: the heather, her family, and the man. It was all she could do to keep her heart in her chest and make it the last few feet down the aisle to pledge her troth. Over a saddle. Woven with heather and pearls.
The alarm went off on bed 23a and Dr. Roman Wyntor glanced toward it. “Is that the first time that alarm has gone off?” he asked the nurse at the station.
“No, it’s been going off all night, but I keep checking on her. Her stats are steady.”
He considered the woman in the bed. She should be awake by now. The nurse moved toward her.
“No, I’ll go,” he said quietly. He took the chart and read over it again. He hadn’t been there for a couple of days, but he’d been in the trauma center when the woman was brought in. He remembered her eyes above all else, like the ocean at high tide on Garrapata Beach in California, close to where he was born.
Roman pushed the alarm button to silence it, then reached out to her wrist, checking her pulse. It fluttered steadily beneath his fingertips, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly, then released her. He sat in the chair next to the bed and watched. The accident she’d been in had caused a severe concussion, and she had multiple abrasions but nothing she shouldn’t recover from eventually.
He wasn’t sure why he was drawn to this patient above the others. Something in her eyes that day had caught him and pulled him in. She had looked so terrified, and it grasped at something deep inside him. He knew she would recover. He knew this. He merely had to wait for the trauma to fade.
He went over the notes in her chart from the past few days, checking and double checking her care and the procedures. He considered ordering another MRI to be sure they hadn’t missed anything, perhaps calling in Dr. Bohden to consult on the case. While reading over the previous night’s notes, he saw a movement over the top edge of the chart and looked up.
Concentrated.
Nothing.
His eyes traveled her form beneath the blanket, head to toe. Not a single sign of activity. He looked back down to the chart only to see something again, and this time, he was sure of it. He watched as she tensed and released her muscles as though taking stock of every one, top to bottom. Her fingers moved, then her thighs shifted and her knees bent slightly, then her feet twirled under the blanket and her toes curled.
He stood and moved to her, speaking quietly. “My name is Dr. Wyntor. You are in Denver General. Take it slow and easy, you’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
He waited.
Her eyelids shifted and she clenched her eyes tightly, then relaxed ever so slowly. Her eyes opened on him, and his breath pulled in suddenly, stolen from him with the remembrance of that gaze.
“My name is Dr. Wyntor—” he started again, then shook his head, realizing he’d already said that. “What’s your name?” He took her wrist under the pretense of checking her pulse. Something in him needed to hold her, comfort her.
Her eyes narrowed on him, then relaxed.
“Take it easy, let everything come slowly. Do you remember what happened?”
The woman shook her head but didn’t move her eyes from him.
“Where are you from?” Still no response. He released her wrist, knowing he’d been holding on for entirely too long, but she reached out and took his hand.
Her mouth parted on a breath and his gaze was drawn to her lips. He shook his head again. He tried to pull from her hold and bring down the shield of professionalism, but he just couldn’t force himself away.
“I am here to help you.” It was a quiet admission, and meant as a promise. He set aside her chart and swept a tendril of hair from her forehead. “If you need anything at all, you can ask for me.” He reached for the button at her side, to show her how to call for help, and she took his hand again.
“Madeleine.”
It was so quiet he thought he’d imagined it. His gaze went back to her mouth to see if there was any sign of movement.
“Pardon?”
“Madeleine,” she repeated, and this time he saw it more than heard it. The movement of her mouth had him spellbound, and he repeated the name.
“Madeleine.”
She smiled.
•••
Dearest reader,
My deepest, most heartfelt thank you, for reading my serial novel.
It has been a long road from the dream to this reality and the fact that you are here reading it still astounds me. I certainly hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing, photographing, designing and bringing it to you.
A note about a couple things in the book. While, in general, there aren’t duplicate location titles in the peerage, there are a few that I found in my research. In fact the first pair of titles sharing location I found was in my own family history wherein there was a Baron and Earl of the same title. (Name withheld to protect me from being mad
e fun of) From what I gathered it happened primarily in borderlands where there was a dispute. A new title of a higher rank was bestowed when a lesser title was already held. In general a second son wouldn’t have a title at all unless it was bestowed upon him by the Queen (or King) for duties perform in his own right.
I placed the Roxleigh seat near the border of England and Scotland, on the Scotland side because at one time the book dealt with the border disputes and all the intricacies of how the United Kingdom came to be, through all the wars and complaints. However, most of that information was removed from the final manuscript. Roxleigh was meant to be a powerful Duke, to illustrate this he was placed at the border, which would have been one of the foothold seats that held the Scots from the Sassenachs. At any rate, the backstory cometh and the editor taketh away and I was left with no explanation as to why there were both Duke and Viscount Roxleigh. Also, the reason he is referred to as Lord Trumbull is because Roxleigh is Roxleigh. And as in Highlander - There can be only one. The Duke being the highest rank recieves the right to be referred to as Roxleigh.
I had thought about changing Trumbull’s title to make it easier, but I decided, since it was already out there, that I didn’t want to create a new level of confusion for my first readers. Perry has become a beloved character in his own right, and changing his name seemed to be something unteneble to me.
There was also, at one point, a great deal of information about mental illness and the handling of mentally ill people in the Victorian era (not very well done). Bethlem Royal Hospital was the main dumping ground for the mentally deficient, and it’s nickname, Bedlam, has become synonymous with chaos. Mental illness touches my family closely, and it is a theme that I dealt with carefully. One of the biggest problems that I see, personally, with mentally ill people is misunderstanding. That is something I hope I brought across in this book.
I love to chat so feel free to come find me on Facebook, Twitter or my blog. If you would like to use TRATR for a book club, online or in person, I would love to be included and I am more than happy to chat with your group!
and the boys...
Images from:
Freedom : The Rake And The recluse : Part One
Available now:
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Images from:
Found : The Rake And The recluse : Part Two
January 3, 2012
Images from:
Taken : The Rake And The recluse : Part Three
January 17, 2012
Images from:
Ruination : The Rake And The Recluse : Part Four
January 31, 2012
Images from
Submission : The Rake And The Recluse : Part Five
February 14, 2012
Images from
Retribution : The Rake And The Recluse : Part Six
February 28, 2012
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Thank You!
Jenn
Table of Contents
Redux Cover
REDUX Copyright
REDUX Acknowledgements
REDUX Dedication
Trumbull Family Tree
FREEDOM Cover
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
FOUND Cover
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
TAKEN Cover
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
RUINATION Cover
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
SUBMISSION Cover
SUBMISSION Acknowledgements
SUBMISSION Dedication
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Fourty
Chapter Fourty-One
Chapter Fourty-Two
RETRIBUTION Cover
Chapter Fourty Three
Chapter Fourty Four
Chapter Fourty Five
Chapter Fourty Six
Chapter Fourty Seven
Chapter Fourty Eight
Chapter Fourty Nine
Chapter Fifty
Epilogue
RETRIBUTION From the author
REDUX Gallery