Lady Bess
By
Claudy Conn
Copyright Page
Lady Bess
By Claudy Conn
Copyright © 2013 by Claudy Conn
Edited by: Karen Babcock
Cover Artist: Kendra Egert
All rights reserved
Published in the United States of America
May 2013
Names, characters, and events depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Excerpt of
After the Storm
Copyright © 2013 by Claudy Conn
Excerpt of
Lady X
Copyright © 2013 by Claudy Conn
Excerpt of
Hungry Moon: Quicksilver
Copyright © 2012 by Claudy Conn
Dedication
MY DAD WAS tall and handsome, with such wondrous black and silky hair. He stood out amongst men because he was also honorable and decent, and I always saw a light that seemed to glitter around him.
He met my mom when he was eight and she was seven. He told her then that he would marry her one day. He did.
His imagination fueled mine, and I would enter the worlds he created for me with his stories. His stories became my own.
However, later, because my dad believed in the rules, as a teen I was a sad chore for him to manage. As I said, he believed in the rules of the day, and I so did not. We butted heads for awhile.
Then I grew up, and how we laughed over my ‘escapades’—and I even confessed some to him that neither he nor my mom had been aware of.
We lost him more than two years ago, and I miss him, his stories, his way with words, and his advice, with all my heart.
He was so clear-sighted and easy to talk to, and when we had one of our ‘talks’, early on when I was a young adult and still bucking the system, he told me I had been right, and that the rules I was forever fighting
needed breaking
.
So here is to you, Dad: miss you and love you always.
Coincidence
, Webster’s Dictionary instructs us, is an accidental and remarkable occurrence of events, and/or ideas, at the same time in a way that sometimes suggests a causal relationship.
In this tale, is it coincidence that will, through
unremarkable
situations, bring about the remarkable.
A chance occurrence will send Lady Bess hurtling into a series of events she never envisioned would be in her future, and because of those events, her future enfolds.
Is coincidence, then, just another word for
fate?
~ One ~
LADY ELIZABETH, KNOWN to her friends as Bess, took a high stock fence and nearly lost her top hat. She straightened it on her head of black, windswept hair while still in motion and looked behind for her partner to keep up. How she loved this, being almost a part of her horse and racing through the woods. It made her feel glorious and eased her restlessness. She was always so restless.
She smiled to herself and shouted into the wind, “Donna, you wretch! Hurry!”
Bess saw that Donna was still not encouraging full speed from her horse, and she shouted again as she took the next fence flying.
She landed on the other side and slowed her horse to wait for her friend to do the same. Instead, Donna slowed her horse to a lope before sedately, but in good form, taking her fence and pulling up to a trot beside Bess.
Bess’s horse, still excited, pranced beneath her, wanting to run, but Bess slowed her mare long enough to catch her breath and complain, “Why are you lagging? You know we need to be at full speed if we are to win,
child
.” This last was a lifelong tease between them.
Donna shook her head of auburn waves, somewhat disheveled beneath her top hat, and said, “Child, is it? I will have you know that a married lady has a superior place in society!” With that she stuck out her tongue and laughed. “Child, indeed!” And then she added, “We passed the marker—I have been trying to tell you.”
“Married or no, I have an entire year on you,
child
.” Bess wagged a finger as she turned her horse about. She shook her head. “You are just a madcap child bride. Now come on, and this time, put some neck into it.”
So saying, Bess urged her horse forward, led her friend to the fork in the trail, and with a whoop of laughter set her pace at the next fence, taking it easily, lightly, and in beautiful form. “
That
is how it should be done,” she told her friend from the other side as her horse pranced, obviously ready to move off.
Donna followed suit and grinned with pleasure as she bantered, “But if we were on fox, which is what we are supposed to be paced for, we wouldn’t go neck or nothing.”
“Yes, I know, but the men don’t mean for us to win. So they told us to pace for a fox, not a deer, but I don’t trust them. They can’t have women beat their time, now can they?” Bess said and laughed.
“Yes, oh Bess, yes, you are quite right.” Dawning lit in Donna’s hazel eyes.
“They told us the truth but don’t mean to abide by the rules—at least that is my opinion. A hunter pace it may be, but they are pitting themselves against us.”
“Odious cheaters,” Donna exclaimed.
Bess laughed. “Right then, their tricks may take them to the devil—as we race in and take the ribbon. Come on then, let’s ride!”
The remaining course took them through plotted fields, with ribbons showing the way, and over a stream they took as swiftly as they were able, though doing so got them thoroughly splashed.
They laughed as they approached the last fence and headed for the finish line, where they could see members of their local hunt gathered and shouting them on.
It was a thrilling moment, and Bess felt suspended in time as she cooed to her mare and softly urged her on, asking her for that last bolt of energy. She knew her horse was only just beginning to feel fatigued and still had that last bit to give her as they moved into an open gallop.
“Heart, Missy,” she told her mare. “You have
so much heart
, and you will have a wonderful rub down and all the grass you can eat in your lovely pasture when we are done.”
They sailed over the last fence, with Donna and her horse close behind as they rode hard past the crowd to the finish line.
“That’s my girls!” shouted an exuberant male voice as a tall, husky, attractive man with a top hat askew over a mat of long, light brown hair rushed forward to take Donna’s reins.
Donna whooped in a very unladylike way and threw her tall and substantial self into her husband’s arms. “Weren’t we wonderful, my lord husband?”
“Robby, what was our time?” Bess demanded as she dismounted and rushed to him. She turned as she found her elbow taken by her father, the Viscount of Saunders, a wide smile spread across his attractive face as he regarded her. “Hello, Papa—how did we do?”
“One hour and ten seconds. I think,” Robby said happily as he dropped a kiss on his wife’s gloved hand.
Bess looked at her father and beamed. “That is good, isn’t it?”
Her father pinched her chin and shook his head. “We’ll see, madcap, we’ll see.” He eyed the scoreboard in the distance and said, “While it is better than good, I am not certain you beat Wesley and Thames. They didn’t take off until a good ten minutes after you and still have to come in.”
“Oh dear,” Donna cried, sounding worried. “I thought we flew over the course. I can’t believe anyone could have done it faster.”
“Aye, I agree, and this a hunter pace, yet everyone seemed determined for speed rather than style.” The viscount laughed.
“I know—I told Donna no one gives a monkey about the hounds chasing a fox!” Bess said, annoyed.
“Right then, the more time goes by before those two come in the better it looks for our girls,” Robby said in aside to the viscount.
All at once, everything—her father and friends chattering, the noise of the crowd in the background all jesting and having a good time, even the sound of the crows screaming overhead—was suspended.
All sound was obliterated in a world that had gone totally blank. Suddenly for Bess nothing else existed, for she could see one thing—hear only one thing.
A man, like no other.
He strode towards them purposely, with self-assurance and composure. The ground seemed to tremble beneath his shiny black hessian boots. His shoulders were wide, his height, tall—taller than most—and Bess felt her heart thump dangerously. But riveting her in place was the aura that seemed to glow all around him, an aura that reached out and made her his.
He moved in a world of his own—a commanding world that sucked up all the space near him.
He was masculine and yet fashionable in his riding coat, and beneath his top hat blonde hair fell in silky waves. As he got closer, she saw that his eyes were the finest shade of blue she had ever seen.
She felt suspended in time as she watched him approach.
Robby broke the spell of the moment as he exclaimed excitedly, “John, you old dog! You made it!” He went forward, hand extended, and carelessly dropped the reins of his wife’s horse.
“Robby!” Donna objected as her steed wandered off. She went chasing after it, adding under her breath, “
Men
.”
Bess, who had left her horse with her father, helped her round up the frisky gelding, laughed, and said, “Yes, but
such
men.”
Donna turned and looked from her to the new arrival. “
Rather
,” she said with a wink.
“Yes, indeed, but, Donna …
who is he
?” She peeked another look towards the handsome man jesting with her father and Robby.
“Hmm, I don’t know precisely. Robby has been jabbering at me all week about this top sawyer friend he met at a horse race some years ago who would be stopping by for a visit. This must be he.”
“Don’t you know his name?” Bess whispered now as they walked back to the gentlemen.
“Er … he is a Scotsman and titled.” Donna scrunched up her face. “What did Robby call him … Dun something, oh yes, the Earl of Dunkirk, that’s it, Dunkirk,” she said with a bright smile, obviously pleased she had recalled his title. “Yes, his title, Robby says, and his enormous wealth puts him at top of the
beau monde
for the season. He is considered the very Pink of the ton.” She pinched Bess’s sleeve and warned, “Stop it, don’t ogle him.” At Bess’s shocked expression, she laughed out loud.
“I wasn’t,” objected Bess, still finding it difficult to look away from him.
Donna sighed. “He
is not
for you.” She clucked her tongue. “Anyway, Robby said something about his being taken with the Lady Sonhurst.”
“Oh,” Bess said and heard the distress in her own voice. “
Sonhurst
, I don’t think I have ever come across her.” She felt a tickle of jealousy. What the deuce was wrong with her? She had never been smitten by a handsome face before or jealous. Jealousy was so destructive. She would not allow herself to feel that way—after all, she didn’t even know the man. And then she asked on a sad sigh, “Do you mean he is going to ask for Lady Sonhurst’s hand?”
“I don’t know, Bessy love, but I do
know her
or of her, the Sonhurst woman. She doesn’t travel in our circles. She is in Prinny’s set, and gossip puts her—”
“Oh, gossip is an ugly thing, Donna. Don’t want to hear it.”
Donna shrugged. “Yes, well, in her case, I count everything I’ve heard as truth. One only has to look at Sonhurst, Bess, to know what she is. And she is not that much older than we are and already a widow.”
“Well, these things happen,” Bess said with a slight shrug.
“I know, especially when you marry a man who has one foot in the grave already, for that is what she did.”
“Donna!” Bess said, shocked, and then giggled as she tweaked her sleeve. “Your husband is waving us to come over.”
“Yes, but one more thing, Bessy—this Scotsman isn’t the sort for you. Just look at the rakish way he walks. He must think a lot of himself, and you are, even if you are older than I, just a green girl. Besides that, I heard Robby say that he was a rogue. So,
don’t
look his way.”
“A rogue?” Lady Bess repeated, intrigued in spite of Donna’s warning. “That could mean almost anything.”
Donna released a chagrined sigh and said, “Well, we are about to find out just what it means about him. Only look at the way he is looking at you
. I think I
should slap his handsome face.”
“What? Why?” Lady Bess was astonished by this.
“Because I am a married lady, and I know just what that look means.”
* * *
Introductions had gone smoothly, but Bess had felt like a schoolgirl, unable to speak up, and she was sure she was blushing when the earl took her gloved hand.
Apparently her father was already acquainted with the earl, and an easy conversation between them and Robby kept them engrossed for a time. During that time, Bess had the opportunity to watch the charmer keep both men entertained.
The sky had clouded over, and she glanced away to inspect the darkening clouds with some misgiving, hoping they could finish the day without getting soaked. It was spring but still quite cool.
She returned her attention to the Earl of Dunkirk and noted that he had easy manners and that his smile was more than simply engaging. His smile was devastating. And if that wasn’t enough to slay a woman and confiscate her heart, that Scottish accent did the rest. That accent, oh, but it had attacked her brain and turned her into an infatuated moron.
She was somewhat startled when he broke away from her father and Robby and directed a question her way.
“Yer hunter is a sweet goin’ mare, Lady Elizabeth,” he said easily and with that rich Scottish burr. “I watched yer last fence, and though she was blowing a bit, she took it in a nice steady stride.”
“Yes,” Bess said and couldn’t think of another word to add to that. She felt a fool.
Donna saved the moment by saying, “I don’t think we were fast enough, though. My fault. I thought we were supposed to pace ourselves.”
The earl laughed. “It certainly looked as though ye were riding like the wind.”
“Bess … Bess!” an excited male’s voice called, and she turned to see a man running toward the assembled group.
“Fleet,” Bess answered happily, going forward to take his gloved hands. “What? Have they posted the times?”
“Aye, they put up the wrong time for you before—it has been corrected, and they are now just going to announce the winner! Looks like you and Donna have it—I believe you two have it!”
Her father beamed broadly and said, “Shall we head on over to the hunt secretary’s booth?”
Everyone started up the grassy slope, chattering away all at once and with great jesting between them.
Bess looked at Fleet, who was without a hat, his brown hair a rumpled mass around his face and his clothes disheveled. His grin was bright, however, and his brown eyes sparkled with his excitement. She pulled at his riding coat, as its tail was caught up into itself, and laughed to ask her long-time friend, “What about you, Fleet? What was your time?”
“Blasted ugly cob of Jeff’s lost a shoe, so we are a good five minutes behind you. I told him to take one of mine, but, no, he had to have his cob. Idiot.”
By then a crowd had gathered around the booth. Bess looked to see what her father had done with her horse and saw that he had given both hers and Donna’s horses to their groom, who was quietly grazing them.
Robby leaned in and said to her, “Look at old Wendricks. He is looking at you, and I’ll be damned if his eyes aren’t twinkling. You’re a favorite, have always been a favorite of his, and with him looking pleased, well then …”