Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure

Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure.

Chapter 9.  By Annie Burrows

The highwayman's horse proved that it was indeed Ed Deppity's nervous gelding, by rearing, tearing its reins free from their loose tethers, and galloping off again.

            Straight towards where they were standing.

            "Look out!"  The highwayman shoved Araminta out of the way as the gelding went galloping past.  She caught her heel on a tree root, tripped, grabbed at his coat to save herself from falling, and brought him down on top of her.

            There was another shot, and the sound of a bullet thunking into the tree trunk above their heads.

            And then a voice that sounded familiar, roared, "Get off her!"

            Lord Torquil loomed over them then, grabbed his associate by the coat collar, and yanked him to his hands and knees.

            But it was not his voice she'd heard.

            "You too!  Step away from her!"

            All three of them turned their heads in the direction the shots, and the voice had come from.

            It was Jack!  Her groom held a smoking pistol in each hand, his face grim.

            "You let my Lady up," he snarled.

            The highwayman glanced up at Lord Torquil, who still had his fingers curled into his coat collar.

            "He's fired both of those pistols," he murmured softly without moving his lips.

            "Just what I was thinking," replied Lord Torquil.

            Lord Torquil raised his hands in the air.  The highwayman scrambled to his feet.  They exchanged a look which boded ill for her groom.

            She opened her mouth to shout a warning, but the fall to the ground, or the landing on top of her of a large and muscular rogue, had combined to knock the breath out of her.  All she managed was an agonized wheeze as the pair of reprobates launched themselves at her hapless groom.

            Though Jack was outnumbered, and outranked, he stood his ground.  Dropping his pistols, he just had time to raise his fists before the others reached him.  

            Araminta groaned.  Not another mill!  Why must men always be fighting?

            She had to get to her feet unaided.  And as she did so, she discovered that her skirt was torn.  Her bottom lip quivered.  She'd lost a shoe when the highwayman had forced her onto his horse, she'd sacrificed her expensive bonnet to the cause of peace in the lane, and now this!

            She'd had enough of adventures.

            And of men.

            With a little sob, she made her way across the clearing, entirely unobserved since the three combatants were dancing round each other in the bracken, arms whirling like windmill sails.

            She paused to remove her one shoe before setting out on a path she thought she recognized, for her husband had often brought her on walks or rides out this way.  She flung it angrily towards the men - not that they took a blind bit of notice of her.

            But at least the sound of grunts crashes and thumps swiftly faded as she made her way, barefoot, deeper into the woods.

            Why they had all pretended to be so interested in her?  It was obvious they were all far more keen on besting each other.

            There was something havey-cavey going on around these parts.  In which some, or all of them, were involved up to their necks.

            Not that she believed in Lord Torquil's tales of smugglers and French spies.  She tossed her head and laughed rather wildly.  She might have believed him, had he not claimed to have opened a fishmonger's.  He was more or less admitting his story was fishy.  And after that, she wondered how on earth his accomplice, Jim or Bob or whatever he called himself, could possibly claim he was serving the crown by robbing innocent people travelling the King's highway.  When he wasn't running brandy, that was.  She might never have travelled beyond the borders of Kent, but that did not make her an idiot.

            There was something decidedly smoky about that Duke, too.  He could not stop talking about money, which her mama had taught her was vulgar.  Could a Duke really be that vulgar?

            And come to think of it, what was Jack doing lurking about the woods with those pistols?  He should have been half way to Midbury by now, seeing to the repair of her phaeton.

            As for Ed Deppity...an image of that naked torso, rising from the water flashed into her mind, slowing her steps.  Her lips curved into a pensive smile.  For the moment, she would acquit him of being anything except too attractive for his own good.

            Besides, she'd cheered up now that she'd escaped from the Dastardly Torquil and his accomplice with many names.

            And escape them she had.  Just down the next dip in the path, lay a cleverly concealed entrance to a secret tunnel.  A secret tunnel which would take her right back to Ambleforth House.

            Oh, but they would be mad as fire when they came searching for her, she thought gleefully, as she ducked behind the trunk of a gnarled old oak tree, and brushed aside a curtain of ivy.

Come back tomorrow for the next installment!

Annie has a July release from Harlequin Historicals: "An Escapade and an Engagement"

You can find out more about her works at www.annie-burrows.co.uk

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Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure

Chapter Eight  ~by Barbara Monajem


As if she had a choice! If she tried to run, the masked man would catch her in a trice, and besides that, what woman would flee a man with such a glint in his eye?

Glints must be a characteristic of dangerous, handsome men. Not that she knew whether the masked man was handsome. She would have to take that on faith. With those eyes, eyebrows, lips and manly chin, this wasn’t difficult. Thrills chased themselves up and down her spine. Desire rampaged through her. She closed her eyes and parted her lips for his kiss… 

What was the dratted man waiting for? 

At last his lips touched hers. A wave of nostalgia swept over her as he deepened the kiss. Ah, passionate kisses like this had been the best thing about marriage. How she missed them!

The sound of galloping hooves penetrated the haze of desire. The highwayman broke the kiss, and regretfully, she opened her eyes. Oh! It was Lord Torquil D for Domineering, riding the Duke’s stallion.

“How did you get a hold of that horse?” Araminta demanded crossly. “It galloped the other direction a while ago.”

Lord Torquil sprang from the saddle. “I whistled for him. He was mine before the Duke of Dashing won him from me by cheating at piquet.” He glared at the masked man. “Kissing the lady was not part of your mission. Unhand her, you rogue!” This order was entirely unnecessary, seeing as the masked man had already stepped away from her with a muffled curse.

 Araminta stamped her foot. “What business is it of yours if he kisses me?”

Lord Torquil gave her a supercilious stare. “My dear Lady Ambleforth, this is Cheat-gallows Jim. I cannot permit such a man to kiss you.”

A blush of excitement swooped up her cheeks. “The Terror of Penenden Heath? How thrilling!”

The highwayman grinned and blew her a kiss. Which was all very well, but she wanted another real kiss! She pouted.

Lord Torquil huffed. “He’s also Brandywine Bob, leader of the notorious Medway River and Estuary Smuggling Consortium.”

Araminta clasped her hands to her breast. “A smuggler, too? You are a very busy man, sir!” How dare Lord Torquil Dictatorial order her about? She would never get a chance to be kissed by a smuggler dash highwayman again. 

“I’m never too busy to kiss a lovely lady,” the masked man murmured. “And those are only two of my aliases.”

More aliases? This man became more fascinating by the minute! “Tell me all about them,” she purred.

“Definitely not!” Lord Torquil said. “That would be, er, unsuitable for a lady’s ears.”

“Come now,” said Jim, or should she think of him as Bob? “Surely we can trust Lady Ambleforth. You’re a patriotic Englishwoman, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? Now that was going too far. “Just because I allowed you to k—” Belatedly, it dawned on her what he had just said. “What has patriotism got to do with it?”

 Lord Torquil drew himself up to his full height. His hair was disheveled from the fistfight, his breeches were muddy, and a sprig of cow parsley clung to his collar, all of which made him far less impressive than before. “This is for your ears only, Lady Ambleforth. I am in the service of England, and this fellow is my assistant. We are in pursuit of a dastardly French spy.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “The one who purposely damaged my phaeton, I suppose?”

“Precisely. He seeks to use you for his own diabolical ends.” 

Araminta crossed her arms. “And why would I believe the word of a disgraced man?”

Lord Torquil stiffened. “It’s the word of an Englishman, dash it all.”

She tapped her foot and glowered at the highwayman. “Or that of a criminal?”

The masked man grinned. “Some of my aliases are respectable, but they are all in the service of the Crown, as are Lord Torquil’s layers upon layers of disgrace.”

Lord Torquil grunted. “Believe me, it’s not easy for a duke’s son to get himself cut off from family, banned by society, forced into seclusion in a godforsaken backwater—”

“Seclusion?” Araminta blushed at the thought of Lord Torquil and his voluptuous mistress ensconced in the ivy-covered mansion on the hill.

 “Dear lady, if you knew how much it cost me—or rather, the Crown—to persuade my mistress to rusticate in Kent … where was I?”

“At your layers of disgrace.” The highwayman winked at Araminta.

“Ah, yes,” Lord Torquil said. “After a number of increasingly worse scandals, my family finally cast me off for setting up as a fishmonger. But in the service of one’s country, one must make sacrifices, even if it means smelling of the shop.” 

“Literally.” Jim-Bob wrinkled his nose. 

“As you well know from hiding kegs of brandy under rotting fish!” Lord Torquil retorted. “But that’s neither here nor there. We must whisk you to safety, Lady Ambleforth. Any moment now the spy may catch up with us and charm you into believing he is another loyal Englishman.”

A shot rang out!

Barbara Monajem's latest novella, To Rescue or Ravish? goes on sale July 1st. Visit her at www.BarbaraMonajem.com.

Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure, Chapter 3

Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure

Chapter 3 By Annie Burrows

She wouldn't put it past him.  With all the rumours of disgrace in his past - and a disgrace so disgraceful her husband had refused to even hint at what it might have been - and the way he always looked at her, as though he knew something she didn't, and found both it and her very amusing, well...

                She had not even drawn breath throughout the whole of her mental diatribe, she realized.  Not that one needed to breathe, to think.  Except that annoyingly, in Lord Torquil's vicinity, breathing never did seem to occur naturally.

                It came as something of a relief when, just as they drew level with Mrs Hopewell's cottage, she saw the curate, Mr Hodges emerging from the gate.

                "Good day, my lady, good day!"  He raised his hat, and stepped out into the lane, his keen blue eyes flicking from her to Lord Torquil.

                "What a surprise to see you out walking on such a hot day," he said to Lord Torquil, producing a handkerchief with a flourish, and mopping his brow.  "I would not have ventured forth myself, were it not for my duty to offer spiritual comfort to the sick and indigent," he said, annoying Araminta intensely.  She found the widow Hopewell a delightful person.  A fund of interesting goss...news.  It rankled to hear the young curate relegate her to the status of a duty to be got through, rather than a person with whom it was always a pleasure to sit and share a cup of tea.

                "Alas," replied Lord Tall and Dangerous-to-her-breathing, "Lady Araminta's brand new phaeton has developed a problem on its very first outing.  She has been obliged to postpone her trip, and return home on foot.  Naturally, seeing her predicament, I offered to escort her."

                He had done no such thing!  He had simply strolled over, and informed her that he would do so.  And was doing so, without so much as a by-your-leave.

                Mr Hodges took on that rather pompous look which usually preceded the more uncomfortable points during his sermons.

                "There is no need for that, my lord," he said firmly.  "Now that I am here, you may continue upon your way.  I shall escort Lady Araminta home."

                Lord Torquil raised one eyebrow.  "Indeed?"  He looked the perspiring curate up and down.

                "You do not look as though you should be out in this weather yourself.  In fact, did I not know better, I would venture to say you look as though you have already been exerting yourself overmuch.  Though I am sure you would deny you have been running."

                "Running?  Why ever should I do such a thing?  In this heat!"  His face turned an even deeper shade of red.  "I did not wish to put it so bluntly," he said, swelling with the kind of indignation Lord Torquil had just provoked in her, "but Lady Araminta really should not be seen walking alone with a man of your...reputation.  Much better for me to see her home."

                "Better for whom," said Lord Torquil dryly.  Then he shrugged.  "I do not suppose I can stop you from joining us," he said as the curate took his place on Araminta's other side.  "But it makes no difference to my plans."

                "Very well," said Mr Hodges with unmistakeable hostility, over the top of her head.  "If you persist in your obstinacy, at least my presence will preserve the lady from the sort of unpleasant gossip that being seen alone with you would provoke."

                Lady Araminta pouted.  They were like two dogs fighting over a bone.  A bone, what was more, that would much rather be left alone.  But was this not typical male behaviour?  They had taken it upon themselves to decide what was best for her.  Not once had either of them asked whether she wished to be escorted home by a sweaty curate and a Totally Disreputable Son-of-a-Duke.

                Oh, if only there was some way she could bring them both down a peg or two!

Don't miss chapter 4 - coming tomorrow!

In the meantime, why not enter the Harlequin Historical authors Summer Beach Bag giveaway?  There are daily giveaways all the way through June, and a grand prize draw on June 29th.  To find out more, click here

Annie has a book out with Harlequin Historical in July - "An Escapade and an Engagement".   You can find Annie on Facebook, at www.facebook.com/AnnieBurrowsUK

 

Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure

Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure

Chapter Two ~by Barbara Monajem

Heavens, it was gorgeous Lord Torquil D. Silverthorne—or as Araminta liked to think of him, Lord Tall, Dark, and Sinister. Nobody knew what the D stood for; even in Debrett’s, the initial was all one could find. The disgraced son of a duke, he dwelt in an ivy-enshrouded mansion on a hill between here and Araminta’s home.

   “Good day, Lady Ambleforth.” Lord Torquil swept off his hat with a flourish and bowed low over her hand. His lips barely brushed her glove, but nevertheless a quiver ran through her at his touch. (How appropriate if the D stood for Dangerous. Or Delicious.) 

   “A carriage breakdown?” murmured Lord Torquil. His eyes touched her, too—everywhere, in the most disconcerting way. “How convenient.”  He replaced his hat upon his dark locks, which curled disreputably over his collar and brow.  (What a pity Disconcerting and Disreputable were not proper names.)

   She put up her chin. She refused to let Lord Torquil—or any man—unsettle her. “For me, certainly. I can’t imagine why I didn’t think of it before. A brisk walk is far more to my taste than shopping. Good day, my lord. ” She nodded dismissal, twirled her blue parasol and continued toward home.

   Unsurprisingly, he turned to accompany her. “Convenient for me as well. What greater pleasure than to stroll on a glorious June day with a lovely lady on my arm?”

   Araminta rolled her eyes. She wasn’t on his arm and didn’t intend to be.

   “But that’s not what I meant,” Lord Torquil said. “Wealthy, young, beautiful widows are few and far between, and a solitary walk might well be fraught with peril.” 

   She huffed. “In the countryside so close to home? If you dare tell me my husband would have disapproved…”

   “He would have, but he doesn’t matter anymore, does he? You’re an independent woman now.”

   Must he purr like a large, warm tomcat asking to be stroked? Torquil Desirable Silverthorne…  His voice sidled into her thoughts, which were rapidly turning disgraceful. “Aren’t you?”

   Wasn’t she what? Oh. Independent. “Of course I am.”

   “And aren’t there many, many men out there who would like to change that?”

   Definitely—even before she was out of mourning, she’d had offers of marriage, which she had refused. “Let them try!”   

    “I believe one of them already has, and in a most unscrupulous way.” He smiled at her with a flash of white teeth and a glint in his eye. “I suspect it is someone who dwells between here and your home.”

   “Whatever can you possibly mean?” She quickened her steps, starting to be annoyed. While she might safely indulge a few improper thoughts about delectable Lord Torquil, he had now begun to truly disturb her. 

   “Such a lonely stretch of road,” he said. “Such a spirited lady, itching to be free for once in her life. Such a convenient mishap to her wheel—enough to disable the phaeton, but not to cause her any harm.”

   Rapidly, Araminta reviewed all the neighbours who might aspire to her hand.  None of them would hatch such a devious plan… Oh! “You sabotaged my phaeton?” She whipped her parasol shut and backed away from him, brandishing it. “How dare you!”

   He put up his hands, laughing. “My dear Lady Ambleforth! If I had purposely damaged your wheel, do you think I would tell you so?”
 

                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Barbara Monajem has a new novella coming out in July. It's called To Rescue or Ravish? A blurb and excerpt can be found at her website. (www.BarbaraMonajem.com).

Come back tomorrow for the next installment of Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure! And don't forgot to enter the Harlequin Historical Summer Giveaway, which continues till June 28th with daily contests and a grand prize. The calendar is here.

Gallant Officer, Forbidden Lady by Diane Gaston

The young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming--Pride and Prejudice

Jane Austen knew there was something about a man in regimentals and my hero on the cover of Gallant Officer, Forbidden Lady, released December 1, is no exception. He is definitely sigh-worthy. But for Jack Vernon being a soldier is what he does, not what he is.

After Napoleon is sent in defeat to the isle of Elba, battle-weary Jack seizes the chance to pursue his dream of being an artist. He is hired to paint London theatre's newest sensation, Ariana Blane, his most important commission to date. As this stunningly beautiful actress ignites feelings Jack thought long destroyed in battle, another man has Ariana in his sights.

Ultimately the only way for Jack to win Ariana is to don his regimentals again and fight on the battlefield of Waterloo.

Gallant Officer, Forbidden Lady was selected by Michelle Buonfiglio as one of her Fave 2009 Romance Books for Barnes and Noble's Heart to Heart blog.

4.5 Stars! "Gallant Officer, Forbidden Lady is a beautiful story with realistic, excellent characters...Another great novel for Diane Gaston." — Debby Guyette, Cataromance

4 Stars! "Gaston displays an innate sense of time and place as she brings her characters from the battlefields of Spain to London's world of theater and the arts." — Kathe Robin, RT BOOKreviews

For more about Gallant Officer, Forbidden Lady and all my books visit my website Sign up for my newsletter. Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, and the Risky Regencies Blog.