Candice Hern

by The Regency Rakes Trilogy

  The young man pursed his lips and refused to look up or to speak.

  "How did you know, Meggie?"

  At the sound of Ashburton's voice, Sedge wrenched his gaze from Albert.

  "It all came to me in a moment," she said. "I was contemplating all of Sedge's accidents and began to suspect they might be related."

  "That's the second time I've heard someone refer to Sedge's accidents," Jack said. "Would someone please tell me what is going on?"

  "There are five incidents, that I know of," Meg said. "And I suddenly realized Mr. Herriot had opportunities in each case to orchestrate the so-called accident." She turned to look at Sedge. "He had been at the inn where the axle on your curricle had been sawn almost clean through. And I remembered Gram saying Mr. Herriot had come by the stillroom, pleasing her with his praise and recollections of his mother. He would have had access to the monkshood." She turned to Jack "He almost drank an infusion laced with monkshood, you see."

  "Good Lord," Jack said, slanting a disgusted glance at Albert.

  "And then there was the time he slipped and almost tumbled down the stairs." Turning back to Sedge, she continued. "Pargeter admitted spilling the oil of vitriol in the hallway, but swore he was not responsible for the oil at the edge of the landing. But, remember? He mentioned your cousin had been there and seen him spill the oil. It must have given him the idea."

  "I never heard about that, Meggie," Ashburton said.

  "Sorry, Terrence," she said. "I guess I had other things on my mind." She smiled at Sedge and his heart skipped a beat.

  "The next thing, so far as I know, was the incident with the highwaymen."

  "Highwaymen?" Jack said.

  "What highwaymen?" Ashburton said.

  "We were held up on our way back to London," Sedge explained. "I shot at the bounders and they fled. Winged one of 'em."

  "Sedge!" Jack said. "You didn't?"

  Sedge grinned. "I did." He sobered and looked at Albert. "Was that your doing, too, Bertie? Did you set that up?"

  But Albert refused to speak.

  "Then there was the fire," Jack said.

  "And Mr. Herriot had told me all about it, you see," Meg said. "When I learned from Lady Pemerton that he should not have even known about it, I began to grow suspicious. But I did not put it all together until this morning."

  Jack fixed Albert with a furious glare. "I suppose you just happened to visit Sedge before I arrived, eh, Herriot? Or did you break in, like some petty sneak thief?" Jack bared his teeth and looked like he might actually lunge at the fellow. "And now this," he hissed. "You miserable—"

  "Why, Bertie?" Sedge asked, his voice and his heart full of sadness. "Why did you do it? Do you hate me so?"

  A moment of tense silence ensued during which all eyes were turned on Albert. No one spoke. Finally, he raised his eyes.

  "Bloody hell!" he said, lifting his chin defiantly. "All right. All right. I did it." His disdainful gaze raked them all as his upper lip twitched into a supercilious curl. "No sense in denying it now. Yes, I did it!"

  "But why, Bertie? Why?"

  "Dammit, Sedge," Albert said, "I was at my wit's end. Creditors on my tail. Vowels all over town. I needed your inheritance."

  "But... I would have given you money, Bertie. You had only to ask."

  "It was worse than that," Albert continued, his face flushed with belated embarrassment. "I've been living off my expectations as your heir for years. Then, suddenly, you up and start talking about marriage. Clear out of the blue." His voice took on a despondent tone. "I had counted on you remaining a bachelor. You had never hinted at marriage before. Never! What was I supposed to do if you married and produced an heir? Then where would I be?"

  "You have two choices as to where you will be," Jack said, planting himself in front of Albert, arms akimbo. "These gentlemen can take you straight to Bow Street and charge you with attempted murder. Or you can leave the country and never show your miserable face in England again as long as you live."

  "Oh, God," Albert choked. He turned a plaintive look on his cousin. "Sedge?"

  "I'll take him, Sedge," Jack said, grabbing Albert's arm from Lord Skeffmgton. "I do not trust the cur. I will see that he is on his way to Portsmouth within the hour. I will even escort the blackguard. Hell, I will even pay for his bloody passage to ... to wherever the next ship sails. Come on, you despicable bastard."

  Jack tugged Albert up the slope toward the line of carriages. Halfway there, he stopped and turned around. "Oh, and, Sedge," he shouted across the distance, "you were right. She looks magnificent in breeches."

  Chapter 24

  Meg blushed to the roots of her hair at Lord Pemerton's words. She looked uncertainly at Sedge, who grinned, then turned her gaze to her brother, who scowled.

  "I commend your clever reasoning in unmasking that scoundrel, Meggie," Ashburton said. "But why couldn't you have told me about your suspicions? Why did you have to come barreling straight into the middle of a duel, for God's sake?"

  "I couldn't have told you before, Terrence. I only just put it all together this morning."

  "But what were you thinking, girl?" Ashburton's voice rose in consternation. "Charging onto the field like that. You might have been killed yourself. Why would you do such an idiot thing?"

  Meg's eyes moved to Sedge, then to Ashburton, then back to Sedge. "Because I love you both," she said.

  Sedge's breath caught in his throat as he gazed into those beautiful eyes. She loved him. By God, she loved him! He reached out a hand and she placed hers in it. He tried to convey with his eyes all the things he would have said had they been alone. Elated by her bold declaration, Sedge was still confused by all that had happened between them. "Meg? Why?"

  She squeezed his hand and he knew she understood his question. "I thought that—"

  Ashburton interrupted her by pushing himself between them. He turned his back to his sister and glared menacingly at Sedge. "I am sorry about the villainy of your cousin, Sedgewick, but there is still this other matter between us. I will have your apology, sirrah. How dare you offer my sister carte blanchel"

  "But, Terrence—"

  "Carte blanche? But I never—"

  "She is a gently bred female," Ashburton went on, ignoring both their protests, "and you have dishonored her. I will not allow my sister to be so grossly insulted. Perhaps you ought to join your cousin and leave the country for a time. It would be most unfortunate if news of her dishonor were to spread."

  And so the puzzling nightmare was not yet over. Sedge dragged a hand through his hair in confusion, wondering if he might have suffered another blow to the head when he fell. It was the only explanation for such incredible events and outrageous accusations. He shook his head slowly back and forth, wondering how things had ever gone so wrong. "I only wanted to marry her," he muttered.

  "You what?" Ashburton said.

  "Marry me?" Meg squeaked.

  "Well, yes," Sedge said, looking at each of them with a bewildered expression on his face. "Of course. Don't you see? That is why Albert was so upset. He knew I wanted to marry you, Meg."

  "Marry me?" she repeated, suddenly dumbfounded at this unexpected turn of events.

  "Of course," Sedge said, his eyes narrowed in surprise at her reaction. "Did I not ask you that day at Thornhill?"

  "No!"

  His head jerked back on his neck. "What do you mean, no?"

  "You never said anything about marriage," Meg said.

  "But I must have," Sedge said, thoroughly confused. "I must have. What else would I have been talking about?"

  All at once, Meg realized that she had somehow misunderstood his intentions from the beginning. She burst into laughter at the comedy of errors that had resulted from that single, misinterpreted conversation.

  "I thought you offered me carte blanche," she said, still chuckling.

  "Yes. That's what I heard you tell Gram," Terrence said.

  Meg smiled at Sedge. "You talked about houses and jew
els and carriages and"— she could not mention the part about making love to her day and night—"all the other. But you never mentioned marriage."

  "Good Lord," Sedge said, eyes wide with astonishment, "is that true?" He reached up and ran his fingers through his hail again. "But I'm sure I mentioned marriage. Didn't I? I must have mentioned it." When Meg shook her head, he looked thoroughly flabbergasted. "I certainly intended to mention it. Truly, I did. That was my sole purpose, after all. I... I must have been overcome by ... by the moment." He looked straight into Meg's eyes, and she knew he referred to the passion of their kiss. "No wonder you rejected me out of hand," he said.

  He smiled at her, and Meg's knees began to quiver. She had forgot all about Terrence and his seconds standing only a few feet away.

  "But I finally decided that you were the only man I would ever love," she said in a soft voice. "I could not bear to be without you."

  "Ah, Meg." Sedge's voice held a note of such tenderness Meg thought her knees might truly buckle this time. He reached out and took both her hands in his.

  "I... I was ready to accept you on any terms," Meg continued, discomfited by the warm look in his eyes. "Even carte blanche. That is why I so brazenly threw myself at you."

  "You did what?" Terrence's angry voice brought Meg back to the situation at hand.

  Still holding Sedge's hands, she tilted her head over her shoulder in her brother's direction. Smiling broadly, she said, "I offered to be his mistress."

  "You what!" Terrence's voice had become a roar.

  Meg looked at Sedge and they both began to laugh. Terrence looked at them and clapped a hand to his head in apparent disgust. "Good Lord."

  "And he actually had the temerity to refuse my offer!" Meg said in mock outrage before collapsing in laughter against Sedge's good shoulder. She felt a gentle hand stroke the back of her head and knew in that moment that everything would be all right.

  "Of course I refused," Sedge said as she ran his fingers against her silky hair, warm from the morning sun and smelling of wild violets. "I am a gentleman, after all. I would never dream of treating a woman so dishonorably." He nudged Meg away from his shoulder and held her out so he could look into her eyes. "Especially the woman I love."

  "Oh, Sedge."

  Their mouths moved inexorably toward each other, but were interrupted by the sound of a clearing throat. Sedge smiled at Meg and shrugged in resignation, then moved her to his side, keeping an arm around her shoulders as they faced her brother.

  "It seems I owe you an apology, Sedgewick," Terrence said.

  "That is not necessary," Sedge said. "I understand completely. I would have done the same for my sister, if I thought some bounder had offered her a slip on the shoulder."

  "Sorry about your shoulder," Terrence said.

  Sedge laughed. "Just another one of those unfortunate mishaps on the road to happiness," he said, tightening his good arm around Meg.

  "Well," Terrence said, "I suppose we had better arrange a meeting of a different sort. Am I right, Sedgewick?"

  "Absolutely." He removed his arm from Meg's shoulders, and held out his hand to her brother. Terrence grasped it without hesitation and pumped it vigorously.

  "I shall look forward to that conversation, Sedgewick," Terrence said, smiling for the first time. "I trust you will take good care of her. I am quite fond of her, you know."

  "Thank you, Terrence," Meg said as she threw her arms around her startled brother and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for defending my honor. And," she said, her eyes darting to Sedge, "for everything else."

  "Come along, Ashburton," Lord Skeffington said, taking his friend by the arm. "I believe we are decidedly de trop."

  "You will see Meg home, Sedgewick?" Terrence asked as both his friends tugged him up the slope.

  "Of course," Sedge replied, taking Meg's hands once again and pulling her close.

  "Don't be long, Meggie."

  "No, Terrence," she said absently as she lost herself in the deep blue of Sedge's eyes.

  Sedge and Meg stared silently at one another—studying, admiring, loving—until they heard the sound of the carriages leaving. Only then did Sedge pull her into his arms. He crushed her to his chest and set his mouth to hers. She gave a small sigh of pleasure beneath his lips as the kiss became deep, lush, and resonant with new understanding and love.

  When they separated at last, Sedge leaned his forehead against Meg's and smiled into her eyes. "What a pair of prize fools we've been, Meg," he said.

  "Yes."

  "All those ridiculous misunderstandings."

  "Yes."

  "And senseless heartache."

  "Yes."

  "Let me see if I can get it right this time," he said. He stroked her jaw with his thumb, the gentle caress causing Meg's heart to quicken with impatience. Finally, he tilted her chin up. "I love you, Meg. Will you marry me?"

  "Yes," she said, and then covered his mouth with her own.

  ###

  More Traditional Regency Romances from Candice Hern

  The following titles are available from most online ebook retailers:

  A GARDEN FOLLY

  THE BEST INTENTIONS

  MISS LACEY’S LAST FLING

  "DESPERATE MEASURES" (a Regency short story)

  Here's an excerpt from A GARDEN FOLLY:

  Oh, but it was grand to be back in the country again! To smell clean air, fragrant of summer blossoms and wood smoke. To enjoy clear, blue skies unblemished with coal soot, and sweeping expanses of brilliant green parklands. To have so much space to oneself.

  Catherine had not realized how much she missed the country. She had not been out of Chelsea since going there to live with Aunt Hetty after her father's death. Dorland, the small Forsythe estate in Wiltshire, had been lost along with everything else when their father died. All her young life she had longed for a Season in Town, but Sir Benjamin Forsythe's precarious finances had never allowed it. More than two years of scraping to make ends meet in Chelsea, however, had shattered any romantical notions she might have once held regarding the glories of London. Oh, there were glories to be seen in Town, to be sure; but not for the likes of impoverished single ladies in Flood Street.

  Perhaps if—when!—she and Susannah contrived to find rich husbands at Chissingworth, she would not mind so much going back to London. In style, this time.

  At the moment, she was simply happy to be back in the country. Chissingworth was famous for its gardens and Catherine was anxious to see as much of them as possible. She loved flowers of all kinds, especially wildflowers. At Dorland, one of her greatest pleasures had been painting detailed watercolors of her favorite blossoms. She still kept a portfolio of her paintings of which she was really quite proud.

  It had been a long time since she had been able to afford paints and brushes and decent parchment. But she had brought along to Chissingworth a few rolls of foolscap and two or three pencils, one of which was tucked in her pocket at the moment. She harbored secret hopes of finding new and unusual specimens to sketch while in residence at the famous estate.

  With this in mind, she wandered through the surprisingly informal arrangement of gardens. In the dressed grounds nearest the house, high, clipped shrubbery hedges of sweetbrier, box, and hawthorn surrounded each garden. Moving through the enclosed hedges was akin to walking through the various rooms of a house, each room different from the last. One was awash in the bright colors of summer, the gravel paths bordered with stocks, pinks, double rocket, sweet Williams, and asters. The morning sun fell upon spires of delphinium sparkling with dew. Her artist's eye was drawn to the glitter of moisture on the indigo and royal peaks, and she paused to seat herself on a nearby stone bench. She pulled a pencil and a scrap of paper from her pocket and roughly sketched the familiar blossoms.

  After a few moments, Catherine moved on to the next garden, which was devoted to roses of all shades. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and breathed in the heady fragrance of so many blosso
ms. She did not, though, stop to draw any of the roses. She instead wandered through a break in the hedge to another garden, this one laid out in a large circle. The plantings graduated in height, from tiny candytuft and sweet mignonette, to lupin, poppies, mallows, and sweet peas. Towering above them all in the center were enormous sunflowers. Catherine was much taken with the harmonious arrangement of such humble varieties as she slowly skirted the circular path, looking for a specimen that she might want to capture on paper.

  "Oh! How wonderful!" she exclaimed as she came upon a patch of sweet violets flourishing in the shade of the larger plants. Kneeling down, she carefully caressed the dark purple blossoms of what could only be a pure viola odorata. She had never actually seen one before, most common violets being hybrids of other violaceae. But she recognized the pure ancestor of the ordinary sweet violet from pictures in one of the illustrated flower books she had once owned. She really must sketch this one. Perhaps if she made a detailed-enough sketch, she would one day be able to paint it in color, from memory.

  Leaning in closer, she began to carefully examine the soft, fragile petals, holding the blossom ever so gently between her fingers.

  And suddenly, she was knocked backward with a thud.

  What on earth?

  "Damnation!" muttered the man who had apparently come careening around the garden path directly into her. He grabbed at Catherine's shoulders in an attempt to balance himself.

  Instead, he knocked her flat on her back and fell directly on top of her.

  Catherine gasped, her face crushed against a dirt-covered smock. "Get off me, you oaf!" she sputtered, pushing against the man's chest.

  Muttering something unintelligible, he raised himself slightly and looked down at her. His hat had been knocked away and a curl of dark brown hair fell over his furrowed brow. Green eyes flickered with annoyance and his mouth was a thin line of irritation. But the most noticeable thing about the man at the moment was his weight, which was crushing the breath right out of her.