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

by Linfield, Emma

  She did not shy away at seeing Heath’s underclothes as she was familiar with her brothers. The last drawer was a bit stuck on being put back, so she knelt to lift the bottom a little and felt cool metal.

  Frowning, she tugged the drawer out and flipped it open. Wedged in three corners were thin metal rods and she plucked them out. They had funny hooks at the ends, and she wondered what they were. Flummoxed, she pocketed them and set the drawer back in place.

  Her absence had to be noticed by then, so she left and closed the door behind her. Halfway down the corridor she nearly bumped into a fearful Martha.

  “My Lady,” she whispered while shooting anxious looks over her shoulder. “You should not be here.”

  “I know,” Penelope said while walking past her. “Thank God, it was you and not Edward who came to see me.”

  They got to the front room and went to the stairs just as Edward came out with a constable beside him. He shot a curious look at her while motioning to the man next to him. “Mr. Moore’s room is this way.”

  Penelope felt nailed to the floor. Her heart rate flying up till it was only a continuous thrum in her chest. She spun on her heel, but Edward and the constable were already gone. By reflex, she grabbed her pocket feeling the thin metal rods there. If the constable was going to search Heath’s room, they would have found these and undoubtedly, the rods would be objects of suspicion. Had she just saved Heath again?

  “My Lady?” Martha asked quietly.

  “Nothing,” Penelope said, vowing to not tell Martha about her find and only ask Heath when he got back.

  She got back to her room where a tray of tea and sandwiches rested on the table. Taking her place beside it, she took the tea and sipped it. Martha’s eyes were on her, but she took painstaking care to drink her tea. Martha’s eyes lingered on her for another long while but gave up soon.

  What on Earth are those instruments?

  She was halfway through the second sandwich, surprised at how hungry she was when Martha came in with a tight look on her face.

  “What?” Penelope asked around a mouthful.

  “Lord Hillbrook is here,” she said while settling a card near her. “He is asking for you, My Lady.”

  The food was forced down and settled into her stomach wrongly. Looking down at the last square of her meal, now utterly unappetizing, she sighed. “Where is he?”

  “The drawing room, My Lady,” Martha said with a slowly-arching eyebrow. “Are you considering seeing him?”

  Dropping the last morsel on the plate, she wiped her hands on the napkin. “I think I might have to apologize. I was not…very polite last time we met.”

  “Well, if you want to see him…” Martha hedged. “I think is best to get it over with now, don’t you?”

  There was no refuting that logic and Penelope stood. “Let us not put off the inevitable.”

  Hillbrook was pacing the drawing room, clad in shades of black and grey. His usually-immaculate blond hair was askew like he had raked his hands through his hair. Very unsettling.

  “Oh, Lady Penelope,” Hillbrook said with anxiety coloring his tone. “I am beside myself. I cannot stomach knowing that you take me for a cad. I am sorry, My Lady. I passed a boundary I should not have. Please, forgive me.”

  Penelope blinked with surprised and blinked again. She had not expected that and fidgeted, “I have to apologize. I behaved wrongly.”

  “No,” he said with a tight smile. “You did not. I was out of place with Mr. Moore, and I have paid for it in the past days. I truly do want this to work between us and that cannot happen if I am a jealous cad, despising the presence of any man within ten feet of you.”

  She forced a smile on her face, “Green does not favor your complexion, My Lord.”

  He smiled a little brighter this time, “I never liked the color. Am I forgiven then?”

  “Yes,” she inclined her head while fighting down the conflicted feelings inside her chest. “You are.”

  The tense line of his shoulders lessened and bowed. “Thank you.”

  An awkward silence began to fill the air, but then, Edward came in and she was inordinately glad for the abrupt presence of her brother. The Earl’s eyes looked between her and Hillbrook and smiled like the sun emerging from under a raincloud.

  “All is swept under the rug then,” Edward asked.

  “I would say—”

  “Yes,” Hillbrook said gaily.

  And, just like that, the inch of respect Hillbrook had gained was erased and lobbed back a mile because of his impudence. She turned to Martha as her brother and Hillbrook began speaking. “I’ll see myself out then.”

  Before anyone could say a word, she was out and halfway down the corridor with annoyance fueling her feet. Hillbrook had not changed and probably never would. The ting of the metal rods in her pocket shifted her mind to Heath. Her fingers shifted to reach to them but stopped halfway as it would look suspicious.

  She barricaded herself in her rooms for the rest of the day, hid the metal rods in the middle of Don Quixote, took her dinner there, as well, and went to sleep with Heath on her mind.

  The next morning was a bit unforgiving, as she woke up with the cruel lifelike image…or was it a memory…of Heath arms around her as they rode on Duke’s back. Yes, it was a memory. That night before it all went to hell had been lovely, magical even. She wanted to feel him hold her again.

  Hating to open her eyes as the images…the feeling would fade, Penelope prayed that she would not pass another day with Heath gone. She needed to feel comforted that he was well, and then she wanted to ask him about the metal instruments. She could not evade reality anymore and opened her eyes. The ceiling above of her was hard proof of her loss.

  Sitting up, she rubbed the back of her hands on her eyes. Shifting her feet out from under the sheets, the soles hit the cold floor and she flinched. Winter surely was coming. Finding her slippers, she stood and grabbed her thick wrapper.

  Martha was strangely absent, but it did not matter to her much. She opened Don Quixote and examined the thin metal rods. Again, she wondered what they were. A shuffling from outside had her snapping the book closed and dropped it between her and the arm on chaise lounge. Propping her legs up, she placed the best contemplative look on her face.

  “Good morning, My Lady,” Martha said sleepily. “What would you like this morning?”

  To see Heath.

  “A warm bath,” Penelope replied. “This cold is seeping under my skin. I fear my bones are freezing.”

  “I’ll send for the water,” Martha said while leaving the room. When she was gone, Penelope took the book and opened it one last time before putting in the bookshelf.

  An hour later, she was ensconced in the library with a book on her lap and the remains of her breakfast on the coffee table. She was trying to distract herself from worrying about Heath so much, but her valiant efforts were wavering. Heath never failed to run across her mind with increasing frequency.

  Martha came and collected the tray and Penelope gifted her with a smile. She read until her eyes began to burn and she rubbed her eyes. Her stomach was rumbling again, and she reluctantly unfolded her legs.

  She left the book and went to the dining room, hoping the sideboard still held treats. It was bare, so she went directly to the kitchens. A maid gave a plate of toast slathered with preserves, and a cup of hot chocolate, balancing both to go to back to the library. A tray would have been sensible, but she believed she could have managed it while going back to the room.

  “Do you want help with that, My Lady?”

  She yelped and nearly upended the plate, but Heath’s quick reflexes saved her snack. Turning fully, she could not help but smile widely. The man was smiling softly, and her heart began to hammer.

  “He—Mr. Moore! You’re back!”

  Heath reached over and took the cup from her. His hands were still bandaged, but he did not flinch with the heat seeping from the ceramic into his skin. “Where to, My Lady?”r />
  “Er…” she faltered, forsaking words in favor of letting the delight of seeing Heath run through her. “Um…the library.”

  “Lead the way,” he said smiling.

  She wanted to drop the food and drag him somewhere where she could hug him tight, but propriety rang loud. Penelope stifled her impulse while making her way to the stairs only to shuffle to a stop. Edward was standing there, face bloodless like snow, while two constables were there too, both grim-faced.

  “Edward…” she said, anxiety as heavy as lead in her stomach. “What had happened?”

  “It is Mr. Doone…” Edward swallowed thickly.

  Mr. Doone? “The stable hand?”

  “Yes…he’s dead by suicide,” Edward said, forcing every word through his mouth. “He was on the run the day after he told me about Mr. Moore and the fire. He’s been found this morning in St. Giles. The constables are telling me…he was a paid hand for Lord Swanville.”

  “Paid hand?” the dots began to form a picture for her—a very bleak picture. “As in assassin? Did he kill the Vis—”

  A body burst into the room wildly looking around. It was Hillbrook. “Dawson, there you are. God! have you heard about Swanville?”

  “What now?”

  “They have taken him to Newgate yesterday!” the man blurted. “He might be executed!”

  Chapter 29

  The news came like bullets, one after the other, slamming into Heath’s mind. He should have expected the Crown to react quickly, but this was tremendous.

  Lord Allerton turned to him, “Mr. Moore, please take Lady Penelope to her rooms or wherever she might want. We will sort our business out later. Thank you.”

  The dismissal was clear, and Heath nodded, angling his body toward the stairs. “My Lady?”

  Penelope shot a look over to her brother, Hillbrook and the two constables before looking at Heath and sighing. They took the stairs to the library while she took swift glimpses over her shoulder. They stepped onto the landing and into the corridor to the library. Settling her food on the table, he did not react to her closing the door.

  He turned, and she rushed in his arms and nestled her face into his neck. His wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She nuzzled closer, while he stroked her back. He then became aware of her slight trembling.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She pulled away and took his closest hand. She shook her head and the freckles across her nose looked a bit more pronounced on her pale skin. “Nothing…just silly me thinking they would hold you forever.”

  “I did say I’d be back,” Heath smiled. “I honor my word, Penelope.”

  “They have pardoned you then?” She asked while going to sit and take her chocolate.

  Producing the letter from his coat, Heath said, “Yes, after grilling me, twisting my story in tangles and making me untangle it and receiving a report from an investigating constable, I am clear.”

  She sighed into the tea, “Thank God.”

  She heard a raucous noise outside and jerked her head toward the door; Heath was on his feet in an instant. She followed him and they stopped on the landing. A fuming Edward stood surrounded by a group of constables.

  “Oh god,” Penelope grimaced. “What is it now? Has there not been enough shock today?”

  Heath’s eyes were focused on the circle where a constable was holding one of Lord Allerton’s air guns.

  “Are you mad!” Edward said stiffly. “I did not bloody shoot Sir Stratham.”

  “The bullet taken from him was from one of these,” the constable accused. “No one in the hunting party has one of these, My Lord. The only conclusion is that you paid someone to do it for you.”

  “And have you found that someone?” Edward snapped. “I. Did. Not. Do. It.”

  Every word was emphasized with strident honestly, but the constables were unfazed. “Is it a coincidence that Mr. Doone committed suicide after running from his post?”

  “He might have felt his conscience for killing the Viscount, and if he knew about his master being taken to prison, he might have seen the walls closing on him,” Edward said firmly.

  “Regardless, My Lord,” the constable said tightly. “You are still suspect, and we cannot take any chances when it comes to an almost assassination of a knight of the realm.”

  Heath looked at Penelope who now turned a deathly pale and before he could reach out, she was down the stairs in a blur of blue. She pushed her way through the constables and hugged her brother. Heath was too far to hear what she said, but when the Lord spoke in her ear, she nodded and stepped back.

  “Well, gentlemen,” Lord Allerton tugged at his waistcoat. “Let us go to my study.”

  While three of the constables followed the Earl, Penelope drifted back up the stairs and passed by Heath with a mere flick of her eyes. Silently, he followed her back to the library where she sank to the seat a little woodenly and framed her head in her hands. Sitting beside her, Heath pulled her to rest on his shoulder.

  “Why is this happening so fast?” her whisper was a tortured breath.

  Heath grimaced. He had hoped to confess before all this raincloud of devastating revelations. His, he knew, might bring on the storm.

  “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said softly, trying to wrap her in a blanket of tenderness.

  “At least you’re here,” she laughed softly and felt despicable knowing he was going to leave her too.

  Pressing his lips to the top of her head he tried to banish the pain inside him, the pain she would feel when he told her who he was.

  Not now…she is too raw to feel another blow to her heart.

  So, he stayed there, holding her until she began to drift to sleep on his shoulder. He cherished this closeness of her body against his, so innocent and lovely. He did not startle when footsteps came in and Lord Allerton’s dark eyes scanned over them with muted shock. He would have preferred to not have the Lord find them like this, but he did not want to disturb Penelope.

  He moved to wake her, but Lord Allerton shook his head, “Don’t. Don’t wake her.” He then swallowed. “I know how she sees you, Mr. Moore. She told me that she loves you, and though I am not fully agreeable, I cannot force her affections to anyone I might choose. I am heading to London now, but I expect to be back soon after they rubbish this accusation. Take care of her for me.”

  Nodding he said, “I will do my best.”

  The Earl shot a look to them again and then squared his jaw. “Good evening, Mr. Moore.”

  Watching him leave felt wrong. He should have woken Penelope to see her brother off, but he had been ordered not to. Twisting back to the lady breathing softly on his chest, he tried to do away with the world outside for as long as he could.

  As the moon was rising and the sweet toast was attracting a fierce army of ants to it, Heath ignored the pests and woke Penelope, trying to convince her it was best for her to go to bed.

  She rubbed her eyes, “Where’s Eddie?”

  “Off to London,” Heath replied before clarifying. “He came in while you were sleeping and told me not to wake you. He knows that you love me, Penelope.”

  Her lips thinned, “I would never deny it, even if it brought down his lofty ways.”

  “I love you too,” he uttered. “But you have to get to bed, Penelope, and I need to go downstairs and assess the damage.”

  She stood and tugged her dress. “Ah, um…goodnight, Heath.”

  Watching her go, he pressed the heels of his bandaged hands to his eyes, got up, straightened his shirt and left. He went back to his empty, barren room to disrobe and lay in silence.

  Forgive me, Penelope…forgive me when I break your heart, were the last words running through his mind before he drifted off.

  One day leeched into the next and the next…and the next. Before he knew it, almost a week has passed with the Earl in London, and Penelope was getting frustrated. He did what he could to calm her, but nothing seemed enough. The hugs did not lin
ger, and the kisses were too short.

  On Sunday, a lone letter—more of a note rather than a letter—arrived informing her that the Earl was fine and that they were working on clearing up his accusation. Sadly, he got a letter too, a notification from Lord Wethington that his time at the Allerton house was up.

  “What’s that?” Penelope had asked while he folded the letter.

  “Just another letter from the Magistrate confirming that I am cleared,” Heath tucked the letter into his inner pocket. The words, you are being recalled to London for a case in Scotland rang through his mind like death knell announcing his mirage of reality he knowingly created had come to an end and the time had come for him to tell Penelope all.