A Midsummer Bride

by Amanda Forester

  “Captain Beake and Miss Harriet Redgrave,” intoned the butler, as if apologizing for their presence in the room.

  “What do you want?” snapped the Lord Langley. “You’ll get no money from me.”

  The sea captain appeared slightly taken aback by this pronouncement. “This lady, Miss Redgrave, presented herself to me as your granddaughter, the daughter of Lady Beatrice.”

  “I told you, Captain Beake, that I have never met my grandfather. He would not know me,” said the lady with an unruffled calm that was intriguing, considering her situation.

  “Ah, but what grandfather would not know his own flesh and blood? Why, you are the smitten image of him.” Captain Beake attempted to make his case.

  “I do not believe the correct turn of phrase is ‘smitten’ image, Captain Beake.” Miss Redgrave glanced away with such disdain that Thornton immediately saw the likeness between her and Lord Langley. Could it be true?

  Lord Langley’s eyes opened wider and he stared at Miss Redgrave for a long moment. “Where are you from, Miss Redgrave?”

  “America. Boston. This gentleman, and I use the word loosely, attacked my ship, pressed innocent Americans into service to the British Crown, and abducted me here. My only aim is to return to America on the next ship home. My parents will be frantic with worry.”

  “Ah yes, what bonds there are between parent and child, and even greater bonds between a man and his only grandchild.” Captain Beake gave the room an oily smile. “So much so, I’m sure we can negotiate the price of reward for returning the little miss to you unhurt and unmolested.”

  Lord Langley’s eyes narrowed. He stepped toward his desk and put his hand on the box of dueling pistols. “You can have no business with me, Captain. I will bid you a good day.”

  “Ah, but perhaps I did not make myself clear.” Captain Beake tugged at his blue coat as if he was about to make a speech. “I protected this young maiden on the voyage. On this ship there are many men, no? I made sure to protect her innocence.”

  The innocent Miss Redgrave snorted. “Protect me? You kidnapped me!”

  “Good day, Captain,” growled Lord Langley, his eyes ablaze, his hand gripping the box. “A good day to both of you.”

  “The least you can do is compensate me for the burned timber!” demanded Captain Beake. “This chit almost set the ship ablaze what with her mad experiments. Odd goings on, if you ask me. Had to lock her trunks in the hold to protect us all.”

  “The voyage was very long,” defended Miss Redgrave. “You cannot expect me to abandon my experiments just because you got the notion to sink my ship. Besides, the fire was mostly contained by the time you found it.”

  Thornton had no idea what to make of this interchange, and for a moment, it appeared neither did Lord Langley, who merely stared at the two persons before him.

  Seizing the opportunity, Captain Beake once again pressed his case. “You see, she admits she started the fire. Some compensation must be in order—”

  “Out!” thundered Langley. “If you kidnapped this young woman on the high seas, I most certainly hope she caused you as much trouble as possible. A good day to you, sir!”

  “Do a good deed, see how you are rewarded,” grumbled Captain Beake as he shuffled out of the room.

  His movements were followed by two sets of cold eyes, so similar that Thornton glanced back and forth between Miss Redgrave and Lord Langley to confirm what he was witnessing. The appearance of a grandchild to the Earl of Langley.

  “You can go too, you imposter.” Lord Langley leveled his disdain at Miss Redgrave. “How dare you play on the sympathies of an old man?”

  “Sympathies?” Miss Redgrave countered. “I have not heard my mother ever mention you in the same breath as the word ‘sympathy.’”

  “Do not talk about the Lady Beatrice as if you were worthy to lick her boots. You are naught but a scheming female, trying to weasel away my money. I have met some conniving females trying to walk away with a portion of my blunt, but you want to be recognized as my heir and steal it all!”

  Miss Redgrave’s green eyes flashed. “I have no interest in your wealth. I have no need for your precious money. I know you have had no contact with our family for many years, but I thought you might at least have some consideration for your own flesh and blood.”

  Langley stood with his hand still on the box of pistols, so Thornton did not quit the room, though now he was not sure whom he was there to protect.

  “You’ll never get ahold of my money! You have no proof you are my granddaughter!” charged Langley.

  Miss Redgrave’s mouth formed a thin line. “Could you ask the butler to bring in my trunks and ask my maid to step in?”

  Thornton wondered what Langley would do, but the request was granted. “Curiosity,” muttered Langley under his breath.

  Silence fell while they waited for whatever entertainment Miss Redgrave might be able to produce, giving Thornton an opportunity to study her. At first he assessed whether he thought her capable of posing any threat, but he rejected the notion. She stood with her back to the door, not in a defensible position, which would have been instinctive for a would-be marauder.

  Miss Redgrave was certainly tall, and with her serviceable wool coat and tanned face, her appearance gave the impression she was more interested in practicality than beauty. Yet he had to admire her pluck. Despite her position, she stood up to both a captain in the Royal Navy and a peer of the realm without flinching, a feat most men could not boast. She radiated an outward calm, yet he could see her white knuckles where she clenched her hands, betraying her nerves.

  Despite his role as protector to Lord Langley, Thornton felt a sudden urge to reassure her. If she had truly been abducted all the way from America, she must have had a most difficult voyage.

  Two trunks were brought into the study, one so heavy it required two footmen to carry it. Lord Langley allowed this, most likely out of curiosity about what she could produce. Thornton also suspected the man feared he was in the presence of his errant daughter’s child.

  “I do not know who you are, sir,” Miss Redgrave addressed Thornton in a brisk businesslike manner, “but I have something of a sensitive manner to show his lordship.”

  “Of course,” said Thornton, as disappointed as the ejected staff to not see what she had in her trunks. “I shall bid ye farewell.”

  “Stay,” commanded Lord Langley. “What if there is something in the trunk to hurt me?”

  Thornton felt it time to introduce himself. “I am the Earl of Thornton, at yer service, Miss Redgrave.”

  “A Scotsman, are you?” Her tone was approving, not like most who could barely hide their disappointment once they discovered Thornton’s earldom was located in wild Scotland.

  “Aye.”

  “You are a friend to my grandfather?” Her tone indicated a clear disapproval.

  “Business partner,” he explained, surprising himself with how quickly he abandoned Lord Langley to his fate in order to win her approval.

  She smiled at him and her face came alive. Without warning, his solid, methodical heart skipped a beat.

  Two

  Harriet Redgrave held her hands together so no one would notice how they were shaking. She had feared her meeting with Lord Langley would not go well, but somehow she had harbored hope that she would find him kind and understanding. Unfortunately, she now understood why her mother had taken flight.

  They waited in silence, her grandfather in mute disapproval, his friend, or guard or business partner, standing by his side. If there were a prize for tall, dark, and brooding, Lord Thornton would win it. With his short black hair and gray eyes he made for an imposing figure. What he was thinking she could only guess, but she feared not much escaped his gaze. She clasped her hands together harder. She would not show weakness.

  Nellie Bowler entered and made a polite curtsy to the esteemed personages assembled in the room.

  “Nellie!” exclaimed Lord Langley. “Is it you?”


  “Yes, Your Grace, it is I,” said Nellie.

  “But how… how is this possible?” Langley stuttered.

  “I went with my mistress,” said Nellie simply.

  “You went with Beatrice? You went with her?” Langley’s tone rose higher. “All this time I thought you ran off in shame, and now I learn that you helped my own daughter, my only daughter elope. With an American! How dare you ever show your face here again?”

  “I am here with Lady Beatrice’s daughter.” Nellie’s tone was even, but her voice was an octave higher than usual and Harriet could tell she was rattled.

  “The point of Nellie being here is not so you can chastise her, since she is so far out of your employment as to be irrelevant, but to demonstrate to you who I am,” said Harriet, hoping to turn Lord Langley’s fire away from her maid.

  Bushy eyebrows clamped down over Langley’s eyes. His mouth formed a firm line. “Even if you have Nellie here, why should I believe a word either of you say? How do I know you both did not concoct this story to cheat me out of my money?”

  “For the last time, I do not wish for your money.” Harriet shook her head as if reprimanding an errant child. She went to one of the trunks, unlocked it with a key from her reticule, and pulled out a smaller case. She opened the case with a separate key, producing a leather pouch. She thrust the pouch at Langley. “Open it!” she demanded.

  Lord Langley did so cautiously, as if the contents might jump out at him, but suddenly he became quite interested and pulled out a handful of gold coins, inspecting them in the light.

  “My name is Harriet Redgrave.” Now that she had his attention that fact bore repeating. “My mother is Lady Beatrice, my father is Captain Redgrave. The sea has been good to my father; he has taken many a ship, many an English ship, during the war for independence. I have no need of your money, Lord Langley. I have quite enough to carry on my own.”

  “Your father would let you carry a fortune in gold unprotected?” asked Langley.

  “No! I was not unprotected. I was being escorted by a dear family friend, Captain Wentworth, to meet my parents in New York. They initially had planned a short visit, but my father was recently offered a position with the United States government. Since they would be living in New York for a while, I went to join them and I packed everything I would need, including my laboratory equipment and some funds from the family vault.”

  “Laboratory equipment?” Thornton asked with a raised brow. It gave her a strange tingle, the Scottish lilt to his voice. She wished he would talk more just to hear it.

  “I am an amateur scientist in the new field of chemistry,” explained Harriet. “Though my visit to London is unplanned, I do hope I can meet some of the scientists that heretofore I have only read about in their published papers.” This pronouncement was met with silence, as it usually was. Harriet sighed. Her scientific interests were generally met with blank looks. She had hoped perhaps it would be different in a more elite set in London. It was not.

  “I cannot see this as anything more than a wild tale. I will grant that you have imagination, but nothing more will you win from me.” Langley folded his arms across his chest.

  “I would be willing to sign papers relinquishing any claim on your inheritance immediately,” declared Harriet. “Besides, would not my older brother be heir, not me?”

  “Beatrice has a son?” Langley asked Nellie.

  “Four of them, all strapping lads, and of course Harriet here,” replied Nellie.

  “Five?” Langley sat down hard in his desk chair, as if overwhelmed by the weight of the circumstances before him. He shook his head, as if fighting off belief. “No, no, I will not be fooled.”

  “If I may suggest,” Lord Thornton said in his rich, earthy tone. “Miss Redgrave, do you have any items from Lady Beatrice? Any letters? Something that connects you to her?”

  Harriet opened her other trunk to retrieve her mother’s last letter to her. She had read the happy missive several times during her voyage to England, hearing her mother’s cheerful voice and wanting to believe someday they would be reunited.

  “This letter is from my mother.” She handed it to Lord Thornton. She was glad he was here since he seemed to be an impartial judge in the situation. Despite having just met the man, she felt he was someone she could trust.

  Thornton opened it and Langley stood to read the letter beside him.

  “It is signed ‘Your Affectionate Mother,’” accused Langley. “It could be from anyone.”

  “Is this your daughter’s handwriting?” asked Thornton. “Do you have any old letters from her?”

  Lord Langley stilled and his head bowed, as if he had been caught committing a crime. He sighed and went to a wall of books. He pulled out what looked to be some large volumes but actually was a false front. From behind it, he pulled out a locked trunk and placed it on his desk. Everyone in the room stepped closer, wondering what was in it.

  Langley took a key attached by a small chain to his watch fob and unlocked the trunk. He looked up at Harriet for a moment, opening his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again and shook his head. He opened the trunk and stepped back, allowing the others to see what was inside.

  “Unopened letters?” Thornton peered inside.

  “Unopened letters from my mother!” Harriet grabbed a handful and shoved it at her grandfather. “Did you never even read her letters?”

  “As long as the letters kept coming, I knew Beatrice was alive,” Langley said weakly as he lowered himself into his desk chair.

  “You never wrote her one letter and yet all these years she continued to write to you,” Harriet said in a soft voice. “What a good daughter she is to you.”

  Langley took out his handkerchief to wipe his eyes and blow his nose.

  “May we open one of the letters to compare the writing?” asked Thornton, getting back to the business at hand.

  Langley nodded and Thornton opened the most recent letter. He spread out the two letters side by side on the desk.

  “The writing looks the same to my eye,” stated Thornton.

  Langley took a deep breath and nodded.

  “What are these boxes?” Harriet pointed to the small packages stacked neatly in the trunk to the side of the letters.

  “I never opened them,” said Langley in a small voice.

  “Perhaps it is time,” suggested Thornton gently.

  Langley nodded and opened one of the packages. It was a small miniature in a gold frame, featuring a drawing of a young man.

  “Why that is Matthew, my oldest brother,” declared Harriet.

  The next three packages produced miniatures of her other brothers, Mark, Luke, and John. “My mother was influenced by biblical names,” explained Harriet. “I do not know where ‘Harriet’ came from.”

  Langley opened the last package with shaking hands. He looked carefully at the miniature then clasped it to his chest.

  “Is it me?” asked Harriet softly.

  Lord Langley nodded. “Harriet was the name of my mother.”

  ***

  After a heart-wrenching acceptance between Lord Langley and his long-lost granddaughter, Thornton felt it was long past time for him to remove himself from the scene. Harriet’s maid also indicated she should present herself to the servants hall, and everyone walked out into the entryway. Lord Langley excused himself for a moment to find the housekeeper to arrange a bedchamber for Miss Redgrave and Nellie followed him, leaving Thornton momentarily alone in the entryway with Miss Redgrave.

  These were moments he dreaded. Alone with a young lady. Particularly after the emotional exchange he just witnessed, the usual topics of banal conversation seemed even more awkward. Weather? No. Refreshments? No. Politics? Definitely not. General compliment on appearance?

  Thornton searched her person, looking for an easy target for a compliment but came up short. He was far from being a connoisseur of fashion, but even he could tell there was nothing remarkable about her coat or bonne
t. Yet she had just been through an ordeal and the silence was growing. Something needed to be said.

  “It must be nice to be so verra tall,” he blurted. Tall? Had he just commented on her height? It would have been better to say nothing.

  Instead of being offended, she gave him a slow smile. “Yes, I am tall. Most people pretend not to notice. My father and brothers are even taller than I, so I do not feel so out of place.” Much to his surprise she walked closer and stood next to him shoulder to shoulder. “You are even taller than I.”

  “Aye.” His heart raced. She was very close. It was actually nice for once to have a lady be more at eye level. He was taller than most men and towered over the women of his acquaintance, but here was a lady he could talk to without feeling freakishly large.

  “It is nice to find a man with height to him. It reminds me of my family.” There was a sadness about her mouth when she spoke.

  “You must miss them,” he said.

  “Very much.” She blinked as if fighting back a tear.

  Thornton was touched. Unlike most societal ladies who presented an air of poised disinterestedness, Miss Redgrave’s emotions were apparent and raw. It gave him courage to speak from his heart as well. “Ye have been verra brave to face such adversity, not to mention standing yer ground against Lord Langley.”

  Miss Redgrave’s shoulders relaxed as if freed from burden and she graced him with another smile. “Thank you. You are very kind. I am fortunate that you were here tonight. I doubt my grandfather would have listened to me had you not been the voice of reason.” She reached out and shook his hand. “Thank you.”

  Thornton was surprised by the gesture and feel of her bare skin against his own. Her hand was surprisingly delicate and cold.

  “Yer hand is so cold,” he said in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. Instinctively he enclosed her hand in both of his to warm her.