Chapter Three
Bellwood Manor
Derbyshire, England
Gerald was anticipating a relaxed, leisurely evening.
He’d completed a tour of the property’s perimeter, looking over the repairs to the numerous breaches in the stone wall that bordered the estate. Satisfied with the results, he’d spent an enjoyable hour, playing fetch with Dutch.
The large white dog of uncertain lineage had wandered onto the estate one rainy day, two years ago, bleeding, and limping. At a loss as to what to do for the animal, Gerald had deferred to Connery who immediately sent for the doctor.
“Doctor Baker knows how to treat dog wounds?”
he’d asked.
“Aye…The man loves dogs. I’ve seen ‘im with them,”
Connery had replied.
To his surprise, Doctor Baker had known exactly how to set the dog’s hind leg. It healed perfectly.
Gerald had named the dog, Dutch, and began taking him along as he tended to his duties and chores around the estate. Together, he and Connery trained the dog to obey key commands. Dutch had proven to be a clever and loyal guardian and protector, especially of the animals. When they’d had trouble with a band of horse thieves last year, Dutch had swiftly cornered one of the bandits in the stable, enabling Gerald and Connery to question the thief to discover the whereabouts of the rest of his gang. Best of all, Dutch was an excellent companion who kept Gerald company on his rambling walks.
Gerald picked up the stick and threw it again, watching the big, lumbering dog chase and return it with the exuberance of a pup. “Good boy, Dutch,”
Gerald said, crouching to rub the dog’s shaggy head. Dutch wagged his tail and hopped about, uttering a mix of woofs, yips, and yaps—his canine chatter making Gerald chuckle.
“Time to head back, boy,”
Gerald said, feeling the first few drops of rain. As they made their way back to the manor house the darkening skies abruptly unleashed a fierce storm. Gerald whistled at Dutch and the two broke into a run as the rain poured down.
By the time Gerald approached the stables he was drenched to the skin and looking forward to sitting by a warm fire in his study with a snifter of brandy, and Dutch snoozing on his favorite pillow by the hearth.
Dutch had run ahead, and Gerald whistled to call him back. Suddenly, he heard the dog’s distinctive bark warning of danger.
Alarmed, Gerald raced around the corner of the stables and stopped in his tracks.
To Gerald’s horror, a large gray stallion had appeared out of nowhere with a young boy on its back. Gerald shouted another command to Dutch but to no avail.
The white dog had sprung into attack mode, barking, and growling as he lurched toward the horse, causing the stallion to rear up, and toss the boy from its back. The horse, kicking and neighing, bolted, leaving the boy on the wet and muddy path.
“Dutch, easy fella. Easy,”
Gerald said as he was able to grasp the panting dog’s collar and command him to sit. Gerald knelt beside the boy, hoping the youth was all right.
He placed a finger on the boy’s neck and felt a strong and steady pulse.
Thank God!
Scooping the boy up in his arms, he got his second shock of the day when the boy’s large floppy hat tumbled to the ground revealing a long thick braid.
“My god, it’s a girl.”
“My lord, I heard barking and shouting,”
Connery shouted as he ran from the stables.
“I need your help.”
“What happened?”
Connery asked as he reached Gerald’s side.
“Her horse was spooked by Dutch and the girl fell to the ground,”
Gerald said. “Help me get her inside.”
Connery reached under the girl’s head and muttered a curse. He held up his fingers and Gerald saw they were sticky and dark. “Blood.”
“She must have hit her head on a rock when she fell,”
Gerald said, his fear for the girl increasing.
Shouts from the manor house reached their ears as the front door flew open and his butler, several footmen flew down the steps carrying lanterns that flooded the area with light.
In the bright glow of the lanterns, Gerald was surprised to see that the figure he held in his arms was no girl, but a young woman.
“I need to get her inside, “Gerald said, his voice sounding frantic to his own ears. “Please see to her horse and Dutch.”
Connery nodded as Gerald turned and raced up the steps.
Behind him, Connery shouted a stream of orders to the footmen to fetch the doctor, retrieve the runaway horse, and take Dutch inside.
Gerald was greeted by his butler Wells and his housekeeper, Mrs. Evans.
“She has a severe head injury,”
he said bolting up the staircase, leaving the capable duo to organize the maids and supplies needed to attend the injured woman. Rushing into the first empty bedchamber off the hallway he gently laid the young woman on the bed.
Gingerly he probed the back of her head and felt a huge bump. Blood oozed onto his fingers. Muttering a curse, he untied her cloak and eased it from her slender frame. Reaching for the dagger in his boot he tore a long strip from the bottom of the cloak, and tied it snuggly around her head, hoping it would staunch the bleeding.
Next, he lightly ran his hands along her legs and arms, carefully checking for breaks and swelling. He sighed with relief. No broken bones.
The young woman moaned and her eyes fluttered open.
He bent over her, and his breath hitched in his throat.
She had the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen.
“L…Lord Lawrence. I f…found you,”
she whispered.
Complete and utter shock gripped him.
Could it be?
Her face creased in pain, and her eyelids fell closed as a moan escaped her.
Those eyes…
He’d only ever seen such striking eyes once before.
At the Adamson ball.
Pale blue, almost translucent, with a dark blue outer rim.
My God, it must be her!
Selena Bowles.
But how? And why was she here? And where was her mother, Lady Bowles?
As if in response, Selena muttered her mother’s name, and a tear squeezed past her closed eyelid, trailing down her face.
Gently, he wiped it away with his thumb, leaving a streak across her mud-caked cheek.
He raked his hands through his hair.
He was having trouble making sense of this.
He was taken aback. More than taken aback. He was dumbfounded.
He blew out a ragged breath.
She’s not supposed to be here.
She was meant to arrive in a few weeks with her mother and his parents for Christmas.
So, we can become better acquainted.
Hell, they weren’t acquainted at all.
Gerald had already decided to speak with his parents about putting off the wedding. At first, he’d told himself it was because he still had much to accomplish at Bellwood.
But the truth was, he didn’t want an arranged marriage.
He wanted what his parents had, a loving union that had stood the test of time. He wanted what his sister Diana had with the Marquess of Banbury, a partnership of equals—full of love, laughter, and passion.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God!”
A terrible thought flashed in his mind. His sister, Diana had been thrown from her horse a few years back and the accident had left her blind. Thank goodness her sight eventually returned. But it wasn’t immediate—nor had it been expected.
He prayed Doctor Baker would get there soon.
The young woman moaned again, muttering something unintelligible.
He lay his hand over hers, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Everything’s going to be all right. I promise.”
Guilt washed over him. He may have decided he couldn’t marry her, but he certainly didn’t want her to be in pain or suffer.
All these thoughts swirled through his mind in a matter of moments, as he watched over her. If he hadn’t seen her eyes, he would never have guessed it was Selena. Her face was caked with mud and the makeshift bandage he’d wrapped around her covered her entire forehead. Her braid had come unraveled, and her long dark hair lay in tangles over her shoulders. Slowly, he reached out to move the wet hair from her face but jumped back like a guilty boy caught with his hand in the biscuit tin, as a flurry of footsteps approached.
“My lord, we are here, do not fear,”
Mrs. Evans, the housekeeper hummed as she bustled into the room, followed by three maids, with armfuls of supplies. The older woman clucked her tongue like a mother hen as she took in the small, wan figure on the bed. “Poor wee lass.”
“I wrapped a cloth around her head injury. She has no broken bones,”
he explained as the maids assembled the various items next to the bed, including a large pot of steaming water, soap, bandages, washcloths, and clean towels.
Gerald’s eyes watered as one of the maids poured vinegar into the steaming water. He trusted Mrs. Evans, who had a true gift when it came to tending wounds and various ailments.
“Rest assured, my lord, the lass is in good hands,”
Mrs. Evans said, patting him on the arm. “I instructed the lads to ready a hot bath for you. And the cook prepared a hearty beef stew for supper.” She waved him off. “Off you go, now. I’m sure you have plenty to discuss with Angus.”
Hands on her hips, she gave him a firm nod, effectively dismissing him.
Gerald sighed, trusting that Selena was in good hands. He slipped out, closing the door behind him.
Mrs. Evans was right. She would see to Selena’s care until Doctor Baker arrived.
His mind was bursting with questions and the only way he could get any answers was to speak to the young woman who was currently lying in a bed in his guest room, unconscious with a head injury.