Word of a Lady: A Risqué Regency Romance (The Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Word of a Lady

  The Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington

  Book Three

  Copyright © Sahara Kelly 2017

  Cover art by Sahara Kelly for

  P&N Graphics, LLC

  Acknowledgements

  Writing a fully-fledged series is an adventure in creativity; even more so than a complete, stand-alone novel. One has to make sure that a character’s eyes…if blue in Book One…are still blue in Book Four. Believe me, this is not the easiest of things to do, and my respect for those brilliant series authors whose books line my shelves has increased with every Ridlington story I write.

  So thank you to all the readers who so patiently ignore what I am convinced are the many errors I continue to commit as this series grows. My thanks for your interest, your enthusiasm and your comments. All of which mean so much to me and act as food for my creative soul.

  To my family…it’s been a challenging year, but we’re moving forward, finding joy and laughter in odd places, as families are wont to do. To my friends…many hugs; I hope to administer them in person in the not too distant future.

  As always, a special hug to my Partner, Scott Carpenter. A part of my life for fifteen years now, I cannot imagine not talking to him about writing, art, and other insanities. His opinions are valuable, his encouragement priceless—and he makes me laugh in those times when I thought humour was beyond me. I am blessed to have him as a Partner in this insane world of writing, and blessed to have him as my best friend in the rest of my life, which tends to be pretty insane at times as well.

  Author’s Note

  Yes, there is a “Stirring Day”, still, in many British households. The date varies, but it’s usually somewhere near the last Sunday in November. That gives the pudding (and the Christmas cake as well) several weeks to mature nicely into the fragrant dish served on Christmas Day to family and guests.

  Feel free to make all the fruit cake jokes you like—I’ve made more than a few myself—but the traditions of an English Christmas are deeply rooted. I have instituted Stirring Sunday here in the US, to the amusement of my family, but you can bet they’ll remember it and perhaps do it themselves in years to come.

  THE ROYAL DECREE…

  “And in October, the year of Our Lord 1661, our Sovereign Monarch Charles II did award to the Barons of the Realm the Distinction of a Coronet. Such Attribute may now be included upon Crests, and Coats of Arms, according to the wishes of the Most Noble and Right Honourable Family. The Coronet shall be distinguished by Six Short Points, each featuring a round Ball at their tips, henceforth to be known as Pearls…”

  …AND THE RIDLINGTONS

  A Baron’s coronet is distinguished by its six points, which are known in heraldic terms as “pearls”. So it was fortuitously convenient that Jack Holbury, Baron of Ridlington, produced six offspring during his lifetime. It took three wives for him to get there, but at the birth of the sixth child, the Ton immediately dubbed his family “The Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington” and then promptly forgot about them.

  His first wife, Margaret, gave birth to Edmund, Simon and Letitia. They were followed by second wife Mary’s children, the twins Richard and Kitty, and the final addition—Hecate—was born to third wife Moira. The Baron outlived his wives by nearly two decades, ruling the Ridlington household with the iron hand of a stern father, while managing to almost completely ignore the unusual brood he had sired.

  Whether his children lived up to their sobriquet remains to be seen...

  Prologue

  “How delightful it was to have us all together,” remarked Letitia Ridlington, as she walked over the lawn that stretched from the terrace toward the woods of Ridlington Chase.

  “Indeed,” answered her sister Hecate. “A wedding is always a joyous occasion, isn’t it? But it is rather quiet now that Simon and Tabby have left on their honeymoon.”

  “A couple of weeks in London wouldn’t be my choice for a wedding journey, but I’m sure they will enjoy themselves. And also they’ll be able to spend some time with Kitty and Richard.”

  Hecate strolled on in silence for a moment or two. “Did it seem to you that both of them, Kitty and Richard, were eager to leave?”

  Letitia thought about that. “A little, perhaps.” She nodded. “Kitty, yes. Definitely. But you know how she always yearned for London. For the salons and the fashions and the balls…”

  “Yes,” agreed Hecate. “I can’t imagine what she sees in them, but to each his or her own, I’m sure.”

  “Do you have any idea where we’re going?” Letitia gestured to the trees ahead. “We’ll be in the woods before long.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Hmm. I suppose not. But shouldn’t one always have a destination? A goal in life?”

  “Not necessarily,” replied Hecate. “And if not, I’ve always felt that a bit of aimless wandering goes a long way toward helping one discover what one’s goals should be.” She took in a deep breath of the warm summer air. “For instance, if your goal happened to involve a certain gentleman who will be moving into his new home soon, then now would be the perfect time to wander the woodland paths and decide how you will achieve said goal.”

  “Hecate.” Letitia stopped dead. “How can you say such a thing? James is…is just a good friend.”

  “Really?” The skepticism in Hecate’s voice could have carved rocks.

  Flustered, Letitia walked on. “I cannot imagine where you get these odd fancies from.”

  “Oh, let me see,” Hecate kept pace. “Perhaps the fact that you are more often with him than with your family. Perhaps because when he walks into a room he looks for you. And you look to see who has entered. Perhaps because you seek his opinion on matters of import. Or perhaps it’s just because you smile more when you are with him.”

  “Nonsense.” She paused. “Oh dear.”

  “Quite.”

  Letitia reached the edge of the forest and plopped down onto a convenient log, heedless of her summer gown. “I cannot, and will not, consider any kind of intimacy with Sir James FitzArden, Hecate. We are friends, we share a warm affection, and shall remain that way. Marriage to anyone, let alone James, is not one of my destinations, nor one of my goals.”

  Hecate joined her on the log. “Why on earth not?”

  “We Ridlingtons are almost incapable of love, and you know it. We have managed to remain a close family by some miracle, but when it comes to matters of the heart? Well—we don’t know how.”

  “Tell that to Edmund and Simon.”

  “I’m happy for both of them, of course. They didn’t have an easy time of it, but they’re also men. It’s different for the
m. You know that as well as anyone.” Letitia shot a glance at her sister.

  “But it worked. Edmund and Rosaline will be parents any day now. Simon’s on his honeymoon. They’re happy, Letitia. You could be too.”

  Letitia shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t. Such a state of raw emotionalism is not for me. Given our upbringing, Hecate, you know that we had to become independent; immune to emotions in any form. I am not right for James, and he knows it. He’s polite and everything a gentleman should be, but he knows how much I treasure my freedom. Anyway, his future could not include a solitary country mouse from a tainted line like ours. He will choose a Society beauty, I’m sure. And they will suit perfectly. Which is why we’re such good friends. We both know that we can be nothing more to each other.”

  “That is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life.” Hecate’s eyebrows drew together sharply.

  Letitia looked up and gazed at the clouds, puffed balls of white scudding through brilliant blue sky. “It doesn’t matter, you know,” she said with calm determination. “I have other plans. And they will arrive at a successful conclusion. I swear it. Word of a lady.”

  Chapter One

  Chilly air brushed Letitia’s shoulders and blew loose strands of hair around her face as she walked the familiar lane to Ridlington Vale. She’d made this little trip more times than she could remember, but never in quite such a state of apprehension. Today was the day she would meet the man who might well set her feet upon a new and exciting path.

  Her palms were damp as she opened the door to the inn. “Good morning, Mrs. Fisher.”

  “And good morning to yourself, Miss Letitia. Bit on the cool side today, isn’t it?” The landlady gave her a warm smile. “I’ve a pot steeping. So you go on in and I’ll bring it through.”

  Letitia removed her bonnet and smoothed the unruly hair. “You are so kind. That would be lovely.”

  She was about to enter the little parlour that adjoined the snug, when the door to the inn opened once more and a figure hesitated on the threshold. A young woman, bundled in a cloak and clutching a traveling bag as if her life depended on not letting it out of her grasp. She glanced around, her eyes nervously darting everywhere, and her lips tightly folded against each other.

  “Hullo.” Letitia walked over to the newcomer. “I don’t believe I know you, and I know most everyone in Ridlington Vale, thus you must be new to the village. Can I be of any help?” She made sure to smile and beckon the woman inside. “It’s getting quite chilly, so do come in and warm yourself.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet, betraying a little tremor.

  She was well-spoken, and Letitia recognized quality clothing. There was something going on here, and perhaps she needed either a helping hand or a friend. Since Letitia had an hour or so before her visitor was due to arrive, she decided to offer some assistance and perhaps learn more about what had brought this young lady to a country inn.

  “Do you have anyone with you? A maid, perhaps?” Letitia put her arm out and touched the woman’s shoulder lightly. She was surprised at the quick jump her move elicited.

  “No, I’m afraid it’s just me.”

  “Well then. I’m about to have some tea. Will you do me the honour of joining me? I have an appointment later this morning, and would love the company to help pass the time until then.”

  “That’s very nice of you. I would love a cup of tea.” She stood a little straighter, as if relaxing under Letitia’s gentle interest.

  “Good.” Mrs. Fisher came back into the foyer. “Would you pop another cup onto that tea tray, if you please?” Letitia called over.

  “Very good, Miss Letitia.” The landlady nodded, her gaze on the newcomer. “It’ll be ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  “Come on. Let’s make ourselves comfortable.” Leading the way, Letitia ushered the young woman into the little parlour. “There. It’s not very large, but it’s warm. Now let’s get the necessities out of the way.” She watched the woman unwrap her cloak and hang it beside Letitia’s on the hooks. The dress she wore was fine wool, as was the matching spencer jacket, although both were unremarkable in style and colour.

  “I’m Letitia Ridlington, and I’m happy to make your acquaintance.” She bobbed a little curtsey.

  “I’m…I’m Harriet Selkirk.” The words were almost whispered as she curtseyed as well.

  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Selkirk.”

  “Thank you, Miss Ridlington. You’re very…wait…Ridlington?” Her eyes widened. “Like the village?”

  Letitia sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Come and sit down. You look weary and I’m ready for my tea. Why don’t we settle ourselves and have a nice talk?”

  Right on cue, Mrs. Fisher tapped and entered, followed by a young maid bearing a tea tray.

  “I took the liberty of adding a few jumbles, Miss Letitia. I knows how you love ‘em and they goes so well with a nice cuppa.”

  “Oooh how delightful.” Letitia grinned at the older woman. “You spoil me.”

  “Nonsense. Now you and yer friend set right in and if you need anything else, just gimme a shout, all right?” She smiled at both women and whisked herself out, closing the door behind her.

  “Jumbles,” breathed Miss Selkirk. “I haven’t had those in—I can’t remember how long.” She licked her lips.

  “Go head, please help yourself.” Letitia watched varying expressions chase across the other woman’s face. “I can recommend them. Mrs. Fisher has a way in the kitchen.”

  “Thank you.” Politely, and with a slight hesitation, she put two of the biscuits and put them on a plate, while Letitia poured.

  “Sugar?”

  It was a uselessly polite interaction, but although Letitia was itching to ask questions, she knew this ritual would serve to calm her guest. Perhaps when it was finished, those questions might be answered more easily. Whoever Harriet was, she was very skittish. Something was wrong, and Letitia determined to find out what it was.

  “Now.” She leaned back and put her tea on the table. “Will you tell me how you came to be here, Miss Selkirk? Ridlington Vale isn’t the kind of place that people just decided to visit while on holiday…in fact, it’s awfully quiet most of the time.”

  Harriet nodded, and for the first time a quick smile curved her lips. “That is perfect. I am seeking quiet.”

  “A place to hide, perhaps?” Letitia tossed out the question to see what the response would be.

  Silence fell for a few moments, as Harriet sipped tea. A play for time, if ever Letitia had seen one. But she was patient, and waited.

  “You are close to being right, Miss Ridlington. I am looking for a place where I might find some peace. And this seems the ideal spot. Out of the way of the…the…”

  “Rest of the world?”

  “Well, not exactly.” Harriet risked a glance at Letitia from beneath her eyelashes. “You do have an illustrious resident. If I recall correctly, there is a Baron Edmund Ridlington?”

  “My brother.” Letitia nodded. “We live a mile or so up the road from here, Ridlington Chase. You can’t miss it. Some of it is falling down, so you have to be careful in case the Chase doesn’t miss you.”

  Smiling at the little jest, Harriet nodded. “’Tis the way of many an older home, sadly. Repairs become so costly they’re postponed. And once postponed…”

  “The damage is done,” agreed Letitia. “Was it so for you and your family?”

  “Yes.” Harriet’s smile vanished. She sighed. “May I confide in you, Miss Ridlington? I don’t know you, but I sense that you are a person who would understand my request for privacy in this conversation.”

  Letitia leaned forward a little. “Of course, Miss Selkirk. Whatever you choose to tell me will be kept in utmost confidence. Word of a lady. I would be honoured should you decide to share your thoughts.”

  “Very well.” Harriet took a deep breath. “I am escaping an intolerable future, Miss Rid
lington. I refused to marry an elderly, debauched gentleman who wished for a brood mare. Having done so, I was informed that I had no other choice but to become another man’s whore, instead.”

  *~~*~~*

  Letitia blinked. “Good God.”

  “Exactly.” Harriet smoothed the folds of her skirt. “Now you may fully understand my quest for quiet and a place off the beaten path.”

  “Indeed. What an intolerable situation.”

  “It is.” She looked up, her eyes worried. “I have a few pounds. Not much but enough to get me here and perhaps obtain lodging for a month or so if I’m cautious. But then what? I have no idea how to plan, what to do, where to go after my funds are exhausted. I have to become invisible, Miss Ridlington. It’s the only way to escape them.”

  “Them?”

  “My aunt and uncle.” Harriet’s mouth turned down. “My parents died two years ago. The ague. And my aunt and uncle arrived to announce they were going to be my parents from then on. I had not yet turned twenty-one, so I had no choice in the matter. All my family’s assets were left to me, to be released when I turn twenty-five.”

  “Ah,” said Letitia. “The ugly spectre of money rears its head.”

  “Exactly. I do not know when or how my uncle convinced the bankers that he was the legal administrator of his sister’s estate, until I came of age, but he did. I found out six months ago, when they introduced me to Sir Daughtry Mansfield and said I was to become his wife. The settlements, I learned shortly thereafter, were sizable. Guaranteed by Sir Daughtry, who demanded a virgin within whom he could plant his precious seed.” She looked disgusted. “He attempted to do so, in advance, just to make sure I was a virgin.”

  “Oh no.” Horrified, Letitia leaned over and took Harriet’s hand. “Did he?”