Love Unexpected: A Regency Romance (The Saunders Family Saga Book 1) Read online

  Marianne hoped that her daughter was not treating the woman as a sort of oddity. She must speak to her about it.

  After dinner the women gathered in the drawing room around the fire and discussed the happy topic of children until the men finished their port and joined them.

  As Virginia sat down to the piano to entertain them, Captain Saunders took her place on the couch next to Marianne. It was a challenge to all her natural womanly feelings to sit in such close proximity to this attractive man.

  To her surprise, he said, “I should like to ask you for your advice.”

  “Yes?” she said warily.

  “I have had a project nagging at my conscience, but I don’t know where to begin with it.”

  “Something to do with horses?”

  He laughed, and it was a pleasant, deep-chested chuckle. “No, actually. It is about sailors.”

  Taken aback, she looked him full in the face. His eyes were perfectly serious now. “I cannot imagine what advice I could give you about sailors.”

  “I think they could benefit from a charitable organization. London is crowded with discharged seamen now that the war is over. You might not realize it, but most of these men have been at sea since they were children or adolescents. Many were originally from the stews of the East End. Now they have been cast off from the only productive life they have known. Most of their families are long dead. They have no work. They have no pension. There is nothing for them but poverty and life in the streets. It is but a short step to lives of crime.”

  “How dreadful,” said Marianne. “That is perfectly awful to contemplate.”

  “It is,” he said. “Do you think sympathies among your class of ladies could be raised to the level of perhaps forming an organization which could help them?”

  “The Duchess of Ruisdell has such an organization for wounded soldiers. She feeds them once a day from her kitchen in the East End. It has been very successful.”

  “That is capital. But I should like a more permanent solution. These men can fix anything. They could be builders or roofers. Anything of that nature. Think about it: They have been at sea for years at a time and have had to mend and repair the ship using whatever materials are to hand. When we have been far from port, their lives have depended on their construction skills if the ship became unsound.”

  Marianne endeavored to put her mind to the problem instead of fighting her attraction to the man next to her. “I know just who to speak with to get some ideas. Have you ever met Lady Clarice Manton or Miss Susannah Braithwaite?”

  “No. I have not had the pleasure.”

  “They are two elderly women who spend their lives on projects like this one. They might have some ideas. I would be glad to speak to them, but I think they would enjoy meeting you. Shall we set a date when we get back to London? I have spent my life in the country, but I would be very glad to occupy myself with something while I am in Town. To tell you the truth, I am a bit of a fish out of water there.”

  Looking extremely gratified, Ernest’s sapphire eyes were warm as he said, “That sounds like a good place to start. I will be glad of your help.”

  “I think with all the gentry in London for the Season, it would be a good time to make arrangements for work on their country estates.”

  “That thought had occurred to me as well.”

  Warmth now burned in Marianne’s breast. Without conscious thought, she smiled at him. “What an unexpected man you are.”

  The twinkle returned to his eyes, and he raised his brows. “What were you expecting?”

  “A competent sea captain, of course. Certainly not a man with a social conscience!”

  “I have lived among these men for years. Longer than with London society, that is certain. Longer even than with my own family, when you consider I went to military school when I was eight.”

  “Bertie said you always wanted to go to sea.”

  “Yes. I knew I shouldn’t inherit, and the sea seemed like the best choice. More Romantic, you know.”

  “So now you are a Romantic as well?”

  He chuckled again. Virginia had finished at the piano, and to Marianne’s surprise, she was a bit reluctant to have the conversation broken up in favor of cards.

  * * *

  Before she slept that night, she reflected upon her conversation with the captain. His request had struck a pleasant chord within her. Her only worry was that in her enthusiasm for the cause she would not be able to keep the relationship with him on an impersonal level.

  Marianne was determined to keep her distance from the man but acknowledged that it would not be easy. He was dangerously attractive. Just as Ian had been. And she had been unable to resist Ian. Sadly, her passion for him had not been returned. Her husband’s passion was exploring Africa. His wife and children had merely been seen as an occasional diversion.

  Most men were like that, she had realized. The attraction of hearth and home was not a first consideration with the other sex.

  But Bertie was not that way. Her brother had his Egyptology, his horses, and his friends, but his love for Lady Catherine burned brighter than any other interest. In addition to what appeared to be an undiminished physical attraction, they had common interests, too, and their conversations were lively. At this very moment, they were making a dream tour of the Continent together. Beau and Tony enjoyed like pairings with their wives. Marianne had also observed that all three men had a healthy appreciation for their wives’ intelligences.

  For the past three years, Marianne had mourned the death of not only the husband she adored but the end of the shiny hopes and dreams that had accompanied her marriage. Ian’s death had only gradually become a reality to her, since he was gone during so much of their marriage. Something in her had always hoped he would still come home.

  Perhaps one day she would have a second chance at love. But her aspirations had no room for sea captains who were too handsome for her peace of mind and lived a whole life at a distance from their families.

  She slept fitfully that night and woke at dawn realizing that she badly needed fresh air and a good gallop. Wondering if there was a horse she could ride, she dressed quickly in her riding habit with the hope that she could find a groom awake and about his business in the stables.

  Southbrooke Manor was the most stunning of the great houses she had visited. Of Tudor vintage, it sat beautifully upon a small hill in a grove of plane trees. There was a pond at the foot of the hill. In fact, if she recalled correctly, there were several ponds on the property. And fences. She wanted a good jump.

  There was nothing like the freedom Marianne felt when she was riding at a brisk gallop. She had always been a demon for speed, which amused Bertie greatly. Again, he said it went against type.

  She missed mornings in the country. She took a deep breath of the fragrance surrounding her. She even loved the scent of the stables, and grew anxious for her ride.

  Marianne saw a figure entering the southernmost stall and decided this was the early groom she was after. She made her way there over ground paved with gravel that crunched as she walked.

  When she arrived at the stall, she saw no one, but there was a gorgeous chestnut horse eating his oats, so he had obviously just been fed. Where was the groom?

  She moved forward. “Hello?”

  The next thing she knew was a powerful blow on the back of her head.

  Blackness.

  Chapter Four

  Ernest knelt on the ground next to the fallen Lady Deveridge. Blood had trickled from a wound on her head, and her complexion was gray. Until he had felt her wrist for a pulse, he had been afraid she might be dead.

  But the pulse was thready. Would she ever regain consciousness, or had she lapsed into a coma? He had no clue as to how long she had lain there. A groom had found her and had shown up at the back door of the house with the news that someone lay on the floor of Virginia’s Prize’s stall. No one else had come downstairs yet, so Ernest had had no idea who it was who lay a
t death’s door until he found her.

  He had been surrounded by death and destruction during his many battles with the French and the Americans, but his heart had never misgiven him like this. Not only did he feel helpless, but there were other feelings he could not readily identify. They felt a lot like fear mixed with anger together with another softer feeling that burned in his chest.

  Chafing her hands between his, he willed her to come to consciousness. What had happened?

  A pitchfork lay next to him on the ground, so he figured that she had been struck with its handle. But why?

  His hands were shaking. Confound it! From his years of shipboard battles, he knew that bleeding on the brain could be fatal. He needed ice.

  The only thing for it was to carry her back to the house. He instructed the groom who hovered over him, “Take her up beneath the knees. I’ll take her under her arms. We must get her to the house.”

  * * *

  Lady Deveridge still had not regained consciousness when Mr. West, the physician, called. He spoke to Ernest, Penelope, Tony, and Virginia, who stood about her bed.

  “It’s impossible to say whether she will regain consciousness. The contusion on her head is severe. I would say she was hit by someone who intended not only to knock her out but to kill her. You have done the right thing to ice it. Keep doing so. I’ll be by again this evening.”

  “I’ll take first watch,” said Ernest, when Mr. West had gone.

  “No,” said Penelope. “When she wakes up she needs to see a comforting sight. A friend. Besides it is not proper.”

  Ernest felt his patience snap. “I’m a friend, and propriety can go to the devil.”

  Penelope put her hand on his sleeve. “Ernest, be reasonable. You’re not helping.”

  Tony spoke up. “I’ve been in your shoes, man. I understand. Virginia was injured with a blow to the head. It’s frightening.”

  But Tony had been in love with Virginia. I scarcely know Lady Deveridge.

  Ernest took the chair by the bed that the doctor had vacated. “Penelope, you may stay also, if you wish, but I’m not moving.”

  With bad grace, she took the chair by the window. “You are bullheaded just like your brother,” she said.

  “I’m going down to look at the scene,” said Tony. “Perhaps whoever did this left something behind.”

  “Do you know about the trouble with Virginia’s Prize?” asked Ernest.

  “Only that his performance is off. Howie is concerned. He thinks he might be ill.”

  “What if whoever did this was trying to get at your horse?”

  “To do what?”

  “Drug him, perhaps. That would explain his poor performance.”

  “I hope you’re wrong,” said Tony, his mouth tight and grim as he left the room.

  “I’m afraid this fixes us here for a few more days, Virginia,” said Penelope.

  Their hostess said, “Of course I am concerned for Marianne, but we are happy to have you for however long you need to stay. Maybe that will give Howie time to return from his business in Epsom Downs. You never got your horse, Captain.”

  “Right now, a horse is the last thing on my mind. Do you know when I first saw her, I thought she was dead. Her color is very bad.”

  Penelope and Lady Strangeways were silent. Ernest picked up Lady Deveridge’s hand and held it in his own. He felt a twinge in his tough heart and sensed the two women exchanging glances.

  “She is very cold,” he said. “I am worried that she may contract an inflammation of the lungs in addition to everything else. Perhaps a couple of hot water bottles—one to her feet and one to her side. The ice on her head is keeping her chilled.”

  Lady Strangeways stood. “I shall send a maid up with some directly.” She left the room.

  Ernest tucked the quilt tightly around Lady Deveridge’s form.

  “Do you really think she caught someone drugging Virginia’s Prize?” asked Penelope.

  “I think it very probable. It fits the facts. She must have been up near dawn and decided she wanted a ride.”

  “But what would she be doing in that stall? It is away from all the others.”

  “She probably saw someone go in and thought it was the groom.”

  “She is very fond of horses. I know that is something she misses when she is staying in London. At home in Bucks she rides every day.”

  Moments later, Gweet came bounding into the room. “What has happened to Mama? Why is she lying there? What is wrong?”

  Penelope went to the girl and put her arms around her. “She is most probably going to be just fine. She had an accident in the stables and hurt her head.”

  Blinking tears, Gweet went to the other side of the bed and smoothed her mother’s hair back. “She is very still.”

  Ernest felt another twinge of the heart. “She is unconscious. Why don’t you talk to her a bit? Maybe she will hear you.”

  The tears overflowed and rolled down the girl’s cheeks. “Mama, Mama, it’s Gweet. I need for you to wake up.”

  * * *

  After four long hours, Lady Deveridge’s eyes fluttered and then opened. Ernest was still by her side, as was her daughter. The tightness in his chest loosened and rather self-consciously he finally let go of her hand.

  Gweet rallied. “Mama, you are awake! You have been unconscious ever so long.”

  The lady didn’t speak at first but looked around her.

  “You are in the downstairs sitting room,” he said. “You were set upon in the stable this morning. You can thank Providence that you have such a thick skull.”

  Her eyes grew puzzled. “What are you doing here?” Her voice came out as a croak. “Oh. I am that thirsty. May I have some water?”

  “Of course, dear,” said Penelope. She rang for the butler and gave him her instructions.

  Ernest did not attempt to answer her question, as he did not know what he was doing there himself. “Did you see anything before you were hit?” he asked.

  Raising her hand to her head, she said, “It hurts like seventeen devils are pounding. I just wanted to go for a ride.”

  “Do you know why you were in Virginia’s Prize’s stall?” he asked.

  “I was looking for the groom. But he wasn’t there. I don’t know where he went.”

  The butler returned with the water. “Gweet, can you help me sit up? I’m sorry if I frightened you, darling.”

  “Will you be all right now, Mama?”

  “I am certain I will do very well.” She gulped down the water and gave a little groan. “Make that twenty-seven devils, at least.”

  “Tony was unable to find anything untoward in the stall. I don’t suppose you saw anything?”

  “No. Not that I remember. I am still a bit foggy.”

  “You must rest, dearest,” said Penelope.

  “Why would anyone want to hit me?”

  “There is obviously some plot afoot,” said Ernest. “You were in Virginia’s Prize’s stall. Tony’s race horse.”

  The butler entered the room. “The doctor has called, my lady.”

  “Oh! Send him in, by all means,” said Penelope.

  Mr. West examined her and told Ernest and Penelope, “It is very encouraging that she has regained consciousness, but there still remains the danger of coma. Lady Deveridge has a significant concussion. She must be awakened every two hours so she does not slide into a coma.”

  “We will see to it,” announced Ernest.

  “Why are you even here?” asked Lady Deveridge.

  “It was I who found you,” he said, feeling this statement should be adequate.

  “Is Mama going to be all right, then?” asked Gweet.

  “Of course I am, darling,” said her mother. “I would not die before you have grown up and I have seen Italy.”

  “I can give you laudanum for the pain, my lady,” interjected Mr. West.

  “On no account,” Lady Deveridge said. “I will not take any laudanum.”

  “Whyeve
r not? It will help you considerably,” the physician said.

  “My mother was a slave to it. I will not take that chance.”

  Ernest said, “You are wise, Lady Deveridge. Aboard ship, laudanum rendered many a man useless if he allowed himself to take it for too long.”

  Penelope said, “I must go inform Virginia and Tony of your words, Mr. West. They have been most concerned.”

  “Don’t be in too much of a hurry to be up and around, Lady Deveridge,” said the doctor. “Your body needs to rest and heal itself.”

  Ernest felt the tension in the back of his neck relax. “I shall stay here with you and wake you two hours from now. Eventually, I’m hoping to hear about Italy.”

  * * *

  Though Penelope protested, Ernest had his tea at Lady Deveridge’s bedside. After a cup of Earl Grey and a tomato sandwich, he spent two hours playing Patience and thinking.

  Italy? The lady is one surprise after another. First, her degree of horsemanship and her desire to ride at dawn. Then this fascination with foreign parts.

  Such a lady was worth knowing and far different from the ones he customarily associated with during his shore leaves. Then there was the complex mass of feelings that had smitten him when he came across her lying in the stall that morning. Not to mention his determination not to leave her bedside. Such behavior was far out of line with his normal conduct.

  At five o’clock p.m., Penelope entered the room along with a woman named Foster, who was Lady Deveridge’s maid.

  “We are going to move her upstairs, give her a bed bath, and change her clothes. Who knows how long she was lying in that nasty straw?” said Penelope. “I imagine that will tire her out and she will want to go back to sleep. No talk of Italy this evening. Foster is going to stay with her through the night. You may call on her in the morning if she has had a good night.”

  “You are one very managing woman, Penelope.”

  “This is my province. We are not on board ship, Ernest.”

  He relinquished his post with a surprising amount of regret.