The Rise of a Forsaken Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Linfield, Emma

  The moon was a scythe above them, with red-gold light shining down on the path Heath nudged Duke toward. It was the same adjacent field, but he avoided the section where Penelope had fallen. The grass was a dark carpet over the land and the trees were black silhouettes in the distance.

  “Heath…” Penelope said, “I love you too.”

  Her words sliced through his chest and the glee he should have felt was changed to despair. A tightness closed around his throat like a vice and he could only duck his head to kiss the soft sliver of skin over the collar of the shirt. Closing his arms around her, he guided Duke with one hand.

  This is it…one ultimate, incomparable moment that I will treasure for the rest of my life when I have to leave…

  “Sweetheart….” he felt hesitant. “I—”

  Then, the air pulsed and the loud crack of a fiery explosion blasted the air in two as heat washed over them. Heath spun Duke around to see a plume of flame coming from, God’s blood, the stables.

  Panic hit Heath so badly that it took all his training to keep calm. Penelope, however, was about to spring off the horse when he took tight hold of her and spurred Duke to run. They got there just as another plume engulfed the roof. The horses were whinnying in fear and panic and the only thing Heath could think was the Bessie was inside,

  He jumped off and took Penelope off the horse. She made to run inside the blazing building, but he stopped her.

  “Go home!” he ordered, “Go home Penelope, you cannot be caught here. Please, love, run home.”

  She was pale but understood. As she ran off, something crashed to the floor, a loosed beam from the roof most likely. The horses, Heath had to get to the horses. Suddenly, servants came racing in like a mad swarm of bees.

  Tugging off his shirt, Heath ripped in in threes, tied one around his nose and the others around his hands. He went to the door and blistering heat singed his tender eyes. The door was latched shut! How the hell had that happened? He had left it open. Grabbing the blistering beam, Heath heaved and managed to release the latch while ash and dust flew into his eyes.

  He ran away as horses bolted from the burning building with their heads and tails high in fear. He was temporarily deafened by their whinnying and when he looked, he saw every horse—but Bessie. No. This was not right!

  The blaze of the heat grew so intense Heath stumbled back. It dried his eyes and blasted his cheeks, but he had to get Bessie out. Holding his breath, Heath dashed inside. The heat inside was nearly unbearable, smoke stung his eyes and ash blew up his nose. He leaped over fallen beams and rushed to Bessie’s stall. It too was latched shut! She was whinnying and squealing, pawing at the floor and from the movements he heard inside, she was turning in circles to pace away from the flames.

  His palms were scorched as the cloth had burned away from his hands, but he had to get Bessie out. Penelope would never forgive him if he let her horse die. Grasping the beam, he cried out in pain as the heat scorched his hands, and with a surge of strength coming from the memory of Penelope’s golden eyes, he lifted it off and grabbed the frightened mare. She butted him with her head in an attempt to bury her face under his hands.

  Smoke and soot clogged Heath’s throat and scorched his lungs. He skin was red-hot, his eyes were burning and watered fiercely. He could barely see but he had to get them out. Flames raged across the open door, creating a wall of fire. A loud crack resounded over the roar, and another beam crashed to the ground. Grabbing Bessie by her mane, he swung himself up and kicked her hard to run. She bolted, leaping over the burning logs and was out the door.

  A wash of cold water was hurled upon him, by mistake he was sure, as it had to have been aimed at the burning building, but he was grateful. His heart was hammering, and his lungs were contracting in his chest without ceasing. He coughed up ash and dark spit tinged with blood. The burn in his lungs was fading, too slowly for his comfort.

  He slipped off Bessie’s back and sank to the ground holding his head down to calm the ringing. How had things gone from perfect to horrifying in mere moments? He looked up to see servants and stable-boys throwing buckets of water on the smoldering remains of the stable.

  Rubbing his eyes from the lingering soot, Heath grimaced at the burnt building with the charred door hanging from the hinges like a limp arm.

  “Bessie!”

  His head snapped around—too quickly as his head began spinning again—to see Penelope, clad in a dress now and a thick coat. She ran to the horse who was a few feet away from him. She was running her hands over the whinnying mare’s head, side, and legs.

  Clambering to his feet, Heath reached out and rested a hand on Bessie’s back. Penelope reached up and swiped a finger over his cheek and came away with soot. “Y—you did this? You saved her?”

  He nodded numbly. Golden eyes welled with tears while he sucked in another gasp of air that burned his lungs. “I did…”

  Darkness closed over his vision, and he slumped on the back of the horse, unconscious. The last thing before his mind went dark was when he dimly heard Penelope’s cry and felt her hands on his face. “…because I l-love you.”

  Chapter 26

  Noontime found Penelope sitting beside Heath’s head as his faithful nurse. Martha had just popped out to get some food or take a bath…she wasn’t sure. She dipped a rag in the bowl of water, squeezed it out and laid it on his forehead. Fever was flushing his face a warm red and his breathing was ragged.

  From inhaling the soot, the physician had told her. He had burns on his shoulders, chest, and abdomen, but the worst burns were on his hands.

  The doctor had told them to get a certain salve but she thought it only fitting to use the same salve Heath had given her. With love in every touch, she was the one to clean the wounds, apply the salve and wrap the rough, blistered skin with strips of white bandages with Martha as her chaperone.

  If he’s fortunate, the lungs should clear, but if he begins spitting up blood, he will need to go to the hospital. The physician’s words were a mantra in her mind.

  I did…because I l-love you.

  What had she done to deserve him? Heath had risked his life to go save her horse. An animal that many others would have left to die, just count it as an unfortunate loss and would move on. Heath knew how precious Bessie was to her, which was why he had done it.

  He does love me…by saving her, he saved me.

  A soft pitying groan snapped her attention back to him and she saw his chapped lips part. Taking up the cup of cool water, she set it to his lips and allowed him to take as much as he could with her hand bracing his neck. After a few swallows, he sank back and breathed hard.

  She smiled softly and dabbed at his chin. Hazed green eyes fluttered open with confusion. “It’s all right, Heath. You’re safe.”

  His bandaged left hand rose to his face, and he looked at it as though seeing a gangrenous limb. “You got burned, Heath. The stables were on fire and you went to get Bessie for me. Your palms were seared black.”

  Twisting the bandaged hand, he croaked, “I remember.” He then looked at her smiling faintly, “Thank you.”

  With that, he sank back into sleep and she leaned over to kiss his cheek, prickly with a growing beard. “I love you.”

  A knock took her attention from the man on the bed, but she did not move her eyes away from him. The only person who was authorized to come and disturb her was Martha. “Yes, Martha?”

  “His Lordship needs to speak with you in his study, My Lady.”

  Sighing, she stood and after casting a protective glance over Heath and then over the spartan room where only the bare necessities were rested. There was not even a scrap of carpet on the floor. Not much better than living outside.

  Approaching the study, she could hear voices inside and frowned. Why would Edward want to see her with company? She knocked and after getting permission, entered to see a grim-faced Edward, two constables and a man she vaguely recognized as a stable hand.

  “Edward…” s
he said warily. “What is going on here?”

  “Penelope, sit down,” he gestured, and though the suspicion grew in her chest, she did and folded her skirts around her.

  The Earl placed his hands on the desk between them, “The fire this morning, as these good men have deciphered, was not an accident. They suspect arson.”

  “From who?” She asked askance and then followed with, “And why? What would anyone burn down a stable?”

  “Mr. Doone here saw Mr. Moore enter the stables before the fire began, and—”

  She launched out of her seat with anger and disbelief flaring white hot. “Edward! Are you suggesting Heath set that fire? Are you insane?”

  “Penelope!”

  “I cannot believe you would even consider such a thing!” she spat. “He did not do anything of the sort. I would pledge my life on it!”

  “Sit. Down.” Edward ordered tersely through grit teeth. “Mr. Moore is—”

  “Innocent!” she overrode him. “He did not do it, Edward.”

  He then stood and glared at her, “You cannot know that, Penelope. Russell was right when he suggested that—”

  “Hillbrook said that!” she shot back. “Hillbrook? No wonder your head is twisted in knots, Edward. He is so in your head that I don’t think you have any of your own thoughts anymore! Heath Moore did not set the stables on fire. Why would he do that only to risk his life to save Bessie?”

  “I do not know,” Edward said staunchly, “But until I know better, the magistrates will be taking him into custody.”

  “The man is unconscious, Edward!” She said appalled.

  “When he wakes up then,” the Earl replied. “The matter is closed, Penelope. He is under suspicion and until the investigation is fulfilled then will I take chances.”

  She blinked, paling at his words. “You will destroy him for something he did not do.”

  “It has to be done,” he said dismissively. “I just thought you should know and be prepared.”

  “You’re taking away the only man I love over nonsense,” she said plainly, not caring that foreign ears were listening. “Because of dratted Hillbrook, who I must tell you hated Heath from the moment he laid eyes on him.”

  Edward’s dark eyes went from shock to appalled and as he made to speak, she spun and left the room without a look to the two uniformed men. Her temples throbbed in anger, frustration and cold dismay. Edward was a fool, but no one could sway him from his witch-hunt.

  Tears were building under her eyes and instead of going back to her rooms, she went directly back to Heath. Martha was not there, and she was glad for that. She needed privacy. Heath was still sleeping but had a tight furrow in the middle of his brow. Was he having a bad dream?

  The tips of her fingertips pressed lightly to smooth the furrow out and from there, her hand slipped to his jaw. His face turned to her touch and she smiled even while heartbreak was making her chest throb.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said softly.

  She traced the curve of his lashes and smiled at the softness there. They were pretty long too. Longer than hers, she smiled. Flittering over his cheekbone she wondered if she could sneak Heath away and act innocent of it all.

  That would make him look even more suspicious in my brother’s eyes. Perhaps the best way is to let them take him. They’ll find out everything is fine and let him go.

  “What’s wrong?” Heath’s rough voice asked.

  She tried to smile but knew he would see through it. “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Penelope,” he asked while bracing to sit up. “I think I have earned the truth from you.”

  Pressing on his shoulders to stop him from rising she shook her head, “I am sorry Heath…some stable hand says he saw you going into the stables before the fire, and my idiot brother is agreeing with him all because dratted Hillbrook got into his head. There are constables here to take you away.”

  The contemplative look on Heath’s face was not one she would have expected him to have after knowing that he was suspected of a crime. Anyone being falsely accused would have begun protesting immediately—he did not. Why?

  “Heath?”

  His eyes were dim, but his smile was soft, “Don’t worry Penelope, they cannot do anything to me.”

  “Because they will find out that you are innocent, right,” she said.

  “Something like that,” Heath said enigmatically. “I am not afraid of them and if it gets your brother some peace of mind, I’ll go willingly.”

  She was stunned. “But you did not do anything, Heath! This is madness!”

  “As I said,” he did sit up this time to rest on the headboard. “If it gives your brother some peace of mind, I will go. I will come back, Penelope.”

  Worriedly, she wondered what was wrong with the men in her life. Her brother had lost all sense, and Heath was allowing his madness to reign free. His hand clasped hers. “It will be fine, sweetheart, I promise.”

  Looking around he asked, “Were you nursing me?”

  “I would not let anyone else,” she replied. “After you risked your life to save a part of mine.”

  His hand reached up to skim over her arm, up past her shoulder and then to her face. His thumb caressed her cheek before his hand slipped under her braid to her neck. “I will be fine, love.”

  His effort to comfort her did not do its job but she pretended it had. Leaning in she kissed him softly. “Get home to me soon.”

  Nodding to the door, Heath said, “They’re probably out there now. Let me up and give me a shirt. I’ll go with them.”

  Reluctantly, she did as she was told and fished a shirt from his drawer. He did not help to dress himself and while the shirt was over his eyes, Penelope’s eyes dipped to Heath’s chest and toned stomach. There was no question in her mind how Heath could lift her up so easily. The man had muscles. She blushed, but tried to hide it.

  His knowing smirk to her averted eyes told him he knew what she was embarrassed about but, mercifully, he did not say a word. She swallowed tightly over her throat while her eyes were on the floor. His green eyes monopolized her attention and drawing her close, he kissed her softly. “I will be back, Penelope.”

  Still, she was not comforted and sighed, “You’d better.”

  Opening the door, she realized Heath’s suspicion about the constables’ presence was there, and she stood, helplessly as they greeted him and told him about his arrest.

  “I have nothing to hide,” Heath said evenly. “I will cooperate.”

  They greeted her with polite words and took Heath away. One grasped his arms and she saw him flinch. “Stop! He’s injured!”

  Instantly, the man dropped his hand and looked at her apologetically. She followed them like a waif in the night as they came upon the foyer and at the doorway, she stood as they helped him into a carriage. As they drove away, she felt a brimming need to grab a tight hold on him because like water he might slip through her fingers and be lost forever.

  * * *

  Whites Gentleman Club, London

  He had barely entered the room with a smug grin when a man, not his usual party, stood and glared at him. “You shot the son of a Duke? Have you lost your senses?”

  “Good evening to you too,” the young man said uncaringly as he took his seat.

  “Why?” he was asked. “Do you not know the wrath that will fall upon you after such a direct attack?”

  Filling a glass with scotch and sitting, the reply was, “Oh, calm down. The man is not dead, and he was the third son, he is ignored at most and expendable at the least. Besides, he should be thanking me. If there is any fallout, God forbid, an attack on his family should turn suspicion from him for being the ringleader of our merry band of traitors and focus on someone else.”

  “Duke Stratham has more leverage at his fingertips then you could muster up in a decade,” was his refrain. “The man is untouchable.”

  We’ll see about that. If he dares double-cross me, a pile of easily-decodabl
e letters in my home will say differently.

  “Then there is nothing to worry about, is there?”

  An uncivilized grunt was his answer, “When are you going to get him into the direct eyes of the magistrates?”

  “The gun is lying in wait only to be discovered,” the younger man smirked cruelly. “My scapegoat, pardon me, our scapegoat, will be the prime suspect soon and even convicted if the plans go my way.”