Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (58 page)

Lady Brighton met him in the foyer, a look of alarm on her face. “Oh! Thayne, what happened to her?”

She hurried to his side to examine the girl, but Thayne did not pause.

“Let us take her to a bed. She was tossed from her horse.” Turning to the butler, he ordered, “Remford, fetch Dr. Logan at once!”

Lady Brighton covered her open mouth with her hands and followed Thayne to the nearest guestroom. A servant turned down the sheets to lay the girl in.

“Who is she?”

“I was hoping you would know,” was Thayne’s preoccupied response, as he gently placed her down. “Her family will be worrying if we cannot reach them soon.”

“They will be worrying anyway, dear, when they
do
know where she is.” Lady Brighton placed her hand upon the girl’s forehead. Turning to a servant girl, she said, “Susan, a rag and water, quickly!”

Susan at once left the room to fetch the requested items.

“Such a lovely girl. I’ve never seen her before. What of the horse?” Lady Brighton asked.

Thayne shook his head. “I was foremost concerned with her. The horse I left.”

She requested a recount of the incident, which he relayed in detail. Visibly distressed, Thayne knew not what to do with himself once his tale was ended. He hardly noticed Susan as she returned and his mother took it upon herself to wipe the dirt from the girl’s face and arms.

“Shall I send someone out for the horse? If we have the beast, perhaps we will be able to find her family.”

“No,” he said, rising from his seat, “
I
shall return for the horse.”

Rising with him, his mother suggested, “Can we not send someone else? You’ve only just returned from a long trip. I hardly think it necessary for you to retrieve the creature personally.”

“My apologies, Mother, but I feel it quite necessary,” he told her, as she accompanied him to the door. “I am much too anxious to be unemployed. If I do not find occupation to keep me engaged, I will go mad.”

“Ah!” cried she, relinquishing. “I wonder that I held any hope of keeping you here. Your brother is of the very same disposition, you know.”

Thayne reached for the door. “Where is Crispin, incidentally?”

“Out with his governess. They went to town. He’ll be so delighted you’re home.”

“I’ll be glad to see him, myself,” Thayne said. “I won’t be long.”

Lord Brighton kissed his mother goodbye and departed to carry out his purpose. That blasted horse was to unravel a secret that he could scarcely stand a moment longer to be kept.

• • •

After a week away on business, Guilford Kingsley was looking forward to arriving home a few days early. As usual, Audra was there to greet him the moment the coach was observed from the manor’s windows. Unlike usual, Audra did not seem her characteristically jubilant self. Rather, there was an urgency in her manner as she descended the portico.

Something was wrong.

“Papa!” she cried.

Audra hardly waited for the carriage door to open and her father to step down before taking his hand.

“Make haste!” she exclaimed, urging him forward. “You must come and talk to Mama
at once!
”

His relaxed state of mind long gone, he asked, “Pray, what is the hurry?”

“It is Miss Braden!”

Her words were panicked. Guilford shook his head, trying to understand her meaning.

“What is the matter with Miss Braden?”

“She is gone!
Missing
.”

“Since when?” he cried.

“Today,” she hurried. “She did not return from her horse ride this morning.” Tears filled her eyes, and Audra confessed, “I did not go with her, Papa — if only I had gone with her! Then, I would know where she was …”

“Come,” he told her. “Do not fret. All will be well. Where is your mother?”

She wasted no time in leading him inside the entrance hall.

“Lydia!” he called. Removing his top hat and tucking his walking stick under his arm, he called again, “Lydia!”

“My love!” she answered, appearing at the top of the winding stairs. “You’re home.”

“Yes, yes,” he declared, as she approached him. “What has happened while I was away?”

“Oh, Guilford! Audra is so very distraught. I see she has told you about her Miss Braden. What should we do?”

“We must search. Where is Desmond?”

“He left the house early with a friend and is yet returned.”

“Then I shall go alone. There is no reason to delay.”

Guilford Kingsley put his top hat back on, and his walking stick hit the marble floor with a driving thud.

“I want to come!
Please
, Papa!”

“No, Audra,” replied her mother. “Can we not send a servant?” she asked her husband.

But Guilford paid no mind to her. “I shall return,” he said, and hurried out.

“Where will you go at this late hour?” cried Lydia.

He offered no reply. The door closed behind him.

• • •

For hours, Thayne searched for the stallion, but to no avail. Whether it had found its way home or run away, he knew not. But it was neither in the field that was the scene of the accident, nor in the surrounding area. Disappointed and empty-handed, he at last headed home.

Ravensleigh, a long house overlooking a curve of the River Thornton, its battlements high against the English skies, was one of the most admired of all the Thornton country homes. Its Jacobean style was updated in the early 1700s, adding two additional wings to its current appearance. Also, its gardens, not unlike Kingsley Manor, had undergone significant changes, with Roman-themed statuary and pillars, where during the day one could enjoy meandering walks through groves, paths, and woods.

Now, though, Ravensleigh’s front, sloping lawns were dark as Thayne neared home. As he prepared to dismount, Lord Kingsley’s carriage turned swiftly down the drive. Not the speed only, but the hour as well, caught Thayne’s attention, and he rode up to greet him.

Dusk was upon them, and through thick clouds, a thin moon and pale stars began to make their first appearance of the night. The driver brought the coach to a halt and Guilford leaned out the window.

“Good evening, Lord Kingsley,” Thayne greeted. “You are no doubt testing the soundness of your carriage. Under such speeds, I daresay it holds up quite well.”

“A comfort, Lord Brighton, but not enough to ease my distress,” he said, his manner noticeably affected.

“Distress?” Thayne repeated with alarm. “I trust all is well with your family?”

“I am searching for a missing girl who stays with us. Her name is Rhianna Braden.”

A missing girl!

“Was she alone?” he asked him hurriedly. “And on horseback?”

“She was.”

“And has she red hair?”

“She does!”

Thayne’s heart stopped in his chest as the mystery that had tormented him these last several hours came to an end. Rhianna Braden — a guest of the Kingsleys!

“Well, Lord Kingsley, for now, rest at ease. She is here, at Ravensleigh.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Is she all right?”

“Miss Braden was thrown from her saddle earlier today. Doctor Logan was called to examine her before I left. You’ve only just caught me returning from a search for the horse, but success did not accompany my quest.”

“I thank you, at any rate,” replied Guilford. “Likely he’ll find his way home.”

Thayne nodded. “Please come in. The doctor may admit us to see Miss Braden.”

• • •

Halfway home from Mauvreen’s, Rhianna heard the sound of rustling branches. Slowing her pace, she listened cautiously to her surroundings. Her heart began to race in her chest as the rustling drew closer. Suddenly, it sounded as if something was running toward her, indeed,
bounding
toward her.

Knowing the distance she was from her cottage, Rhianna ran. Dashing forward, crunching branches and leaves beneath the weight of her small, nine-year-old body, she disregarded the noise she was making, her only goal to travel farther and faster.

“Stop!” a voice called.

Startled, Rhianna felt the sound pierce her body and glanced over her shoulder, more frightened than before. With Mauvreen’s strict emphasis on the secrecy of their visits, Rhianna did not know the worse evil: to happen upon a wild, hungry beast or a human who would reveal her clandestine friendship.

Rhianna had never run so fast in her life, nor been so terribly worried. She looked back once more, but saw no one, even as the voice called again.

“Stop!”

Just then, Rhianna came to the horrid realization that the voice was not calling to her at all, but worse still, to the overly excited hunting dog that chased her. With a scream, she fled down an incline and dropped to her knees in the muddy stream that guided her.

“Stop!” the person again cried.

A drenched Rhianna glanced, terrified, at the bank where the dog barked at her happily, his tail wagging so violently his entire body wiggled. Soon after, the figure of a boy emerged from behind the trees, laughing at the scene before him.

“You found him!” he quipped childishly to Rhianna.

She recognized the boy’s face instantly. Certainly, there was no mistaking it.

“Have you drowned?” he asked.

Still kneeling in the stream, Rhianna’s fingers curled into the mud at the sight of him.

“Yours was the carriage that spoiled my blue dress!” she burst out.

A rain-filled ditch in the soggy road outside Rhianna’s cottage ought to have been enough to warn her and Brenna away as the Brighton carriage came along that morning. Alas, as if the event in and of itself were not humiliating enough, it was eclipsed by the face of a prepubescent boy as he leaned out the window and laughed at them.

“Well you certainly are ungrateful,” he retorted playfully. “Here I am, checking to see that you have not perished, and here you are, yelling at me.”

“You should apologize!”

His smile curled to the side as he placed his hands on his dog and petted him rewardingly for his catch. The dog, in turn, looked admiringly at his owner.

“You don’t mean to blame that on
me
,” he replied.

“You
laughed
at us,” she reminded him, considering how the hound would respond if she advanced to the embankment and pushed the boy into the water.

The black-haired, blue-eyed child shrugged. “Well, what was I supposed to do? I found it amusing.”

Rhianna could hardly believe what she was hearing. He was either completely wicked or had a very poor sense of humor.

“Look!” she cried, clambering to her feet and pointing to the bottom of the green dress she was wearing. The plain dress without a pearl button or piece of lace found on it was, in fact, her best frock. “Now this one also is spoiled, no thanks to
you
.”

“Well, maybe
you
shouldn’t walk so close to the stream. That goes for muddy roads, as well.”

“Indeed!” she shouted angrily. “Well if
your dog
had not come bounding toward me, I would never have fallen. I would have been home by now.”

Enraged, Rhianna turned and began walking toward town on the opposite side of the stream.

“Who are you?” he called out to her, jumping across the stream with his dog barreling through it behind him. “And what are you doing out here, anyway? This is the Kingsleys’ property.”

“I’d ask the same of you, if I cared a fig,” she responded, her back to him.

Chasing after her, his hound faithfully at his side, he called, “I have more right to be here than you, peasant!”

His words brought her to a halt. She about-faced, and cried, “How dare you? I am the curate’s daughter!”

“And I,” he said, sauntering toward her, “am Thayne Brighton, heir to Ravensleigh, the House of Brighton, not to mention the title of Lord.”

With revulsion, Rhianna shoved him using all her force. Master Brighton fell, landing rearward into the stream with a hearty splash.

“May you never live to see the day!” she cried.

With tears in her eyes, Rhianna stormed off toward home, without looking back behind her.

• • •

By the time she opened her eyes, Rhianna was conscious of very little around her. The one thing she did know was that she felt safe and the lady beside her was caring and concerned. An attempt to sit up in bed ended with a moan as Rhianna felt the full effects of a headache and she surrendered to her pillow.

Taking Rhianna’s hand in her own and speaking in a soft voice, the lady said, “You’re all right, my dear. Do not fret yourself with struggling to get up. Rest. You took quite a fall.”

Rhianna could do little beyond examine the intricate strapwork of the ceiling from the comforts between four wood bedposts …

Fall?

“I beg your pardon?”

“What is your name?”

The question throbbed in her head. “My name is Rhianna Braden.”

“Well, Miss Braden, you were thrown from your horse this morning, but the doctor says you’re going to be just fine.”

She focused her eyes on the lady’s face. It had a soft, kind appearance, and her smile was sweet. Only a very few lines gave any hint to her age, and her manners revealed motherly instincts.

“Can you have any idea of what happened?” the lady continued.

“No, indeed, I do not remember it,” Rhianna told her. Then, trailing off in thought, she recollected, “There was a man.”

After some moments without a further description, the woman beside her questioned, “Who was this man?”

She struggled to recall details. “I remember a man with dark features. He was also on horseback, though behind me some ways. I am sure I have never seen him before and he seemed to be there for some time. That’s the last thing I recall.” Rhianna asked, “I rather had the feeling he was following me but, perhaps — did he bring me here?”

The lady’s eyes widened at this account, but she did not press her further.

“No, Miss Braden. My son brought you here. He was passing in his carriage as it happened.”

“I am very grateful,” she struggled. Then, something occurred to Rhianna as the lady reached for a pitcher of water on the end table and began to pour her a drink.