by Hatch, Donna
“You are a woman of great courage to face those cutthroats alone.”
His fingers closed around hers as if she were a lifeline. Her late husband’s hands had always been smooth and soft, the hands of a gentleman, so unlike this man’s calluses which bespoke hard work. She marveled at the strength in those hands, not to mention the tingles that traveled up her arm.
A flush crept over her face and she struggled to retain her composure. “I saw a cruel act and felt compelled to intervene. I could do nothing less.”
His eyes darted over her face and he said in a stronger voice, “Those men might have turned on you.”
“I’m an excellent shot.”
“And did you not consider that you may have been in danger from me?”
She suspected many women found him a very great danger, but not for the reason he spoke.
Swallowing against a dry mouth, she lifted her chin. “You hardly looked dangerous at the time. And I daresay you lack the strength to offer any threat now.”
The barest hint of a smile twitched his lips and a wicked light glinted in his sea-green eyes.
Praise for THE GUISE OF A GENTLEMAN
“Combining Jane Austen with swashbuckling adventure, THE GUISE OF A GENTLEMAN is a fine specimen of pirate romance!”
~ New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Ashley
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Guise of a Gentleman original copyright© 2009 by Donna Hatch
Second copyright© 2013 Donna Hatch
Cover Art by Lex Valenine
Originally published by The Wild Rose Press
Publishing History:
First English Tea Rose Edition, 2010 Print
ISBN 1-60154-701-3
Re-published by Mirror Lake Press, 2013
Digital ISBN 9781301321704
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To Vicki Gaia, Jennifer Ashley, Jennifer Griffith, and to all my sister writers at ANWA, Desert Rose RWA, and Beau Monde. I couldn't have done it without you!
And most of all to my husband, who’d look great in an eye patch!
Other books by Donna Hatch
The Rogue Hearts Series:
The Stranger She Married
The Guise of a Gentleman
A Perfect Secret
Historical Anthologies:
Regency Hearts: “The Reluctant Bride,” “Constant Hearts,” “Emma's Dilemma”
A Timeless Romance Anthology: Winter Collection “A Winter’s Knight”
Regency Short Stories:
Mistletoe Magic, Constant Hearts, Emma's Dilemma, The Reluctant Bride, Troubled Hearts
Fantasy:
Queen in Exile
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Excerpt from A Perfect Secret, Book 3 in the Rogue Hearts Series
A word about the author
CHAPTER 1
England, 1819
Lily Standwich was a traitor. Elise choked on her tea, hoping she’d simply heard wrong. But no, Lily had indeed betrayed their pact.
Seated in her front parlor, Elise set down her teacup on the Chippendale table with a bit more force than she intended. “Married? Lily! What are you thinking?”
“Oh, good heavens, I’m only forty-two, not a hundred. Why, my hair isn’t even gray yet.” Lily smoothed her dark hair and nibbled her biscuit as if she hadn’t just delivered such surprising news.
Sinking back against the parlor settee, Elise could only stare. She and Lily had shared so many confidences and reassured each other about the freedoms and pleasures only a financially stable widow could enjoy. Now, they would lose that common bond. Elise would grow old, alone, while all her friends moved into a world dominated by husbands, a world of which she was not a part. Elise didn’t care to have a husband again. Until a moment ago, she’d believed Lily felt the same way. When did Lily change her mind?
Elise sputtered. “Yes, of course, I didn’t mean to imply you were old, but…but why remarry?”
Lily gave her a look one normally reserved for a slow-witted child. “I love him. And I want to spend every moment with him, day and night.”
Dismay weighted Elise’s heart. She knew her friend had been spending time with the widowed Mr. Harrison, possibly even indulging in clandestine meetings with him, but taking a lover hardly equated marriage. Elise would never take a lover, and she’d vowed long ago she would never remarry, a vow Lily had also made. And broken.
Elise shook her head in disbelief. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
Using her fingers, Lily ticked off a list of Mr. Harrison’s attributes. “He has money of his own, comes from a good family, and already has two sons, so there’s no need of an heir.” She moistened her lips, her expression turning earnest. “But it’s more than that. We truly enjoy one another’s company. He treats me like a queen. For the first time in years, I’m truly happy.” Lily delivered her last sentence with such dreaminess, Elise half-expected her friend to be jesting. She wasn’t.
Elise’s world tilted to one side and a knot formed in her stomach. She stared absently at the blue and gold patterns on the carpet and tried to sort her tangled thoughts. “But you had no intention of remarrying.”
Lily heaved a sigh. “I know I’d often said that. But it was just noise to try to make us both feel better about our widowed state. What else should I have done? Confess I was dying of loneliness?” She touched Elise’s arm, her voice hushing. “I have a chance to be happy again. Can’t you be pleased for me?”
Her face warming with shame at her own selfishness, Elise managed a wan smile. “Of course. Pray, forgive my ungracious reaction. I was merely surprised.”
“I understand, my dear.” Lily eyed her with apprehension. “We’re having a soirée in two weeks’ time to celebrate. Will you come?”
Elise retrieved her tea cup and sipped to give herself time to form an answer. The familiar emptiness in her heart returned. “You know I dislike large gatherings.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to make a few social appearances now and again.”
Sighing, Elise nodded in resignation. “I suppose you’re right. Charlotte Greymore has been telling me the same thing. Just yesterday, in fact. Yet, it doesn’t seem right going to events without Edward at my side.”
Lily patted her arm. “He was a good man, and you made a lovely couple, but he would not wish you to mourn all y
our life, any more than John would have wished it for me.”
Elise looked down at her clenched hands. “Perhaps not.”
“There are any number of eligible gentlemen in the area. It’s possible someday you, too, will remarry and find happiness again.”
“You know I plan to remain a widow.”
“Nonsense. You are, what—? Eight and twenty? Hardly in your dotage. A lady as young and lovely as you should not remain at home alone.”
The usual discomfort returned that always arrived on the heels of a compliment. Her late husband had often told her she was comely, but he had seen her through the eyes of love. With a decidedly average figure, hair that had darkened from silver-blond to a color more closely resembling old wash water, and new lines around her eyes, she had little to tempt a man. It didn’t matter. She would never remarry.
Elise shook her head sadly. “I’m happy for you, Lily, but please do not expect me to follow in your footsteps.”
“Think of your son. A boy needs a father’s guidance.”
Of course Lily did not mean to sound callous, but although Edward had been gone for five years, Elise still missed him. No man would ever take his place. And she had no desire to announce to the world that she had ceased mourning him, lest a gentleman entertain the idea she might engage in a liaison. Not that she’d have suitors stumbling all over themselves in the attempt.
She folded her arms. “I’m not willing to consider remarrying. I’m surprised after all our discussions on the subject over the years you would think I’d so easily change my mind just because you did.”
“You’re right. I apologize. I know this must seem very sudden to you, given all our talks. But I’m happy. And I want you to be happy, too.” Lily paused. “Do come to my party. This will just be a few friends, not a big, elaborate fête.”
Spurred by a sense of duty to her friend, Elise nodded. “Very well, I will attend and toast to your happiness.”
Lily smiled. “Excellent. Most of the guests will be old friends. There will be only one new face.”
“New face?” Suspicion curled in her stomach.
“Jared Amesbury has returned to England and has let Richfield Manor for the summer.”
Elise raised her brows. “Richfield Manor has not been occupied for as long as I can remember.”
“I suppose Mr. Amesbury wished to rusticate after such a long time overseas. I knew his mother, the countess. Lovely lady. She passed on two years ago. His father, the Fifth Earl of Tarrington, is well-respected, and his children make him proud.”
The names meant nothing to Elise. She had lived in this summer home in the country just outside Brenniswick since her marriage to Edward nearly ten years ago. Before that, she lived a quiet life a few miles to the north and had traveled very little either before or after her marriage, though she’d spent much of her youth poring over travel books and dreaming of far-away lands awash with adventure. She and her father dreamed together of trips they planned to take when the war ended. Those plans ceased upon his untimely death. Many dreams died with him. The rest of her dreams died with Edward.
Lily leaned forward, her brown eyes twinkling. “I visited Mr. Amesbury upon his arrival. He has grown into a most handsome man. Educated at Cambridge. I believe he served in the Royal Navy during the war. Or was he a privateer? I forget. No matter. He would be a most welcome addition to Brenniswick, don’t you think?”
Elise folded her arms and said firmly, “I’m not interested in meeting eligible men.”
“Of course not, dear,” Lily agreed too quickly.
Elise suspected agreeing to come to the soirée had been a mistake. Despite her promises to the contrary, matchmaking appeared to be high on Lily’s menu. Elise had no desire to taste that dish.
“The soirée is two weeks from tomorrow.”
Elise took her hand. “Lily, I wish you and Mr. Harrison all the happiness in the world. He’s a fine man and is fortunate, indeed, to have you.”
Lily smiled, her face relaxing in relief. “I can’t tell you how much it means to hear you say that. I feared you’d be disappointed or feel abandoned.”
How well Lily knew her. But no amount of enticement would have made Elise say anything to hurt her friend. Instead, she again squelched her own feelings. “Congratulations, Lily, and I wish you both much happiness.”
After Lily took her leave, Elise stood motionless in the foyer, her emotions spinning like dust motes in the sunlight swirling around her.
Her friends were moving on without her. Charlotte Greymore had married two years ago to a fine man she’d loved for years. Now Lily would remarry. Elise would have to face widowhood without her two dearest friends. Oh, they’d see one another from time to time, but things would be different. She’d be alone.
Nonsense. She had her young son and a large estate to manage for his inheritance. What more did she need? Certainly not a man!
As she donned a riding habit, she took her foolish emotions in hand and wrestled them into submission. In the nursery, she checked on her son who sat reading with his nurse, although Colin glanced longingly out the window as though he’d rather be chasing frogs by the lake. Colin straightened at her arrival, his face lighting up, but she laid a finger over her lips and gestured to his nurse. His shoulders slumping, he sat back on his haunches and propped his chin on his fist.
Smiling, she retrieved her hat, gloves, and riding crop. As was her custom, she also picked up her double-barreled rifle before heading for the stables.
The sun peeped out behind puffy clouds like a shy child peeping behind his mother’s skirts, and a breeze carried the scent of the distant ocean mixed with heather and honeysuckle. Prince’s welcoming whinny met her. At the door, she paused to breathe in the scent of hay and horses. Edward had detested the stable odors and always had the groom bring his horse to him, tacked up and ready to ride. In contrast, Elise liked the earthy stable smells. They resurrected fond memories of her dear father.
Matthews, the head groom, whistled as he attended his duties at the far end. Elise entered the darkened interior and moved to Prince’s stall. Prince whinnied again.
“Hello, Prince.” She set down her gun and ammunition and opened the gate. Upon entering his stall, she rubbed the horse’s muzzle and ran her hands down his neck and back.
Prince put his head over her shoulder and, using the underside of his chin, he pulled her against his neck for a horse hug. She wrapped her arms around him, savoring his sweet, musty scent and his genuine affection. As his lips nipped softly at her neck, the hairs on his chin tickled.
He’d been a first-rate hunter in his prime, much like the horse she’d ridden at her father’s side in local fox hunts in her youth, much to her mother’s disapproval. When she’d turned sixteen, her mother had announced that Elise needed to give up her wild ways and begin acting like a lady. Too grief-stricken over the recent loss of her father, Elise had bowed to her wishes. She never participated in another fox hunt and married the perfect gentleman.
“Mornin’, Mrs. Berkley,” Matthews called.
“Good morning,” she called over her shoulder.
Matthews threw the tack over the gate where she could easily access it and left her alone with her horse. After tying up Prince so he wouldn’t move about, she brushed him, rubbing her hands along his rich, chestnut coat. Grooming her horse always calmed her when she was troubled, and Lily Standwich’s announcement had left her decidedly unsettled.
“I don’t understand Lily,” she muttered to Prince. His ears swiveled back to hear her as she brushed his coat to a shine. “You won’t catch me falling for a man or walking meekly into a second marriage.”
On cue, Prince whinnied and shook his head.
She laughed softly. “You and Colin are the only ones I could ever love now that Edward, God rest his soul, is gone.”
Elise had loved Edward, of that there was no question. She’d earnestly strived to be the perfect wife and to conduct herself in all ways to make him
proud. Allowing another man into her life would be a betrayal of Edward’s memory. Besides, Elise liked being her own mistress. Was the love of a man truly worth giving up one’s widowhood liberty?
Elise set aside the brush and tacked up Prince. After stopping for her gun, she led him outside.
“Nice day for a ride,” Matthews said.
He spotted her rifle and made a grunt of satisfaction. He gave her a leg up and stepped back. He’d finally stopped asking to accompany her. It simply wasn’t done for a lady to ride alone, but now that Edward was gone, Elise often did things that simply weren’t done. Besides, they were in Brenniswick, hours from the nearest city. Nothing dangerous ever happened in Brenniswick.
Prince danced against the reins, and she let him have his head. They galloped, leaping over stone fences and hedgerows, avoiding her tenants’ homes and crops. Nearing the north edge of her land, she slowed to wend her way through a grove of birch. Sunlight slanted through the leaves, illuminating patches of soft earth which muted the clopping of Prince’s hoof beats.
A disembodied male voice shattered the peace in the woods. “I don’t care what you do to the boy. He means nothing to me.”
Startled, Elise reined. Prince let his breath out in a whoosh. As Elise stroked his neck, he quieted. Not even birdsong broke the afternoon’s silence. A prickle ran down the back of her neck.
A sharp, mirthless laugh erupted from the trees. “You care, or you wouldn’t have come for him. Talk, or the boy dies.” The second man’s voice raised chill bumps on her arms.
A child cried out in distress and broke off.
Elise’s imagination painted frightening reasons why a child might be silenced so abruptly. With quickened heartbeat, she urged Prince toward the direction of the voices.
The first voice floated through the misty air. “Kill the whelp; I don’t care. It won’t change my answer.” The voice ended with a strangled grunt.