Georgian Romance - Lady Louise de Winter

Georgian Romance (Steamy Content) 

One grave transgression in her past, and Lady Louise de Winter, has accepted all hope for love and romance is but a dream she dare not embrace. Aware her semi-closeted existence on the Harcourt Estate is no more, and a substantial inheritance awaits her pleasure, her friend Count Casarotto suddenly brings his personal troubles to her door and seeks sanctuary. Worse, pursued by officers of his majesty’s regiment of horse, Louise endeavours to conceal his presence despite qualms as to his innocence when the bare facts are laid before her. What is more, devastatingly attracted to the senior officer, Louise battles to retain sense of propriety as burning desire within takes hold. But despite Major Fitzwilliam’s reassurance he cares not a jot about her past, the truth remains she is not as other young would-be brides. Therefore, dare she give her heart into his care?

One

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1760 Wiltshire: February 14^th

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Lady Louise de Winter glanced to where swathes of snowdrops along the woodland’s edge had long since withered. She shouldn’t have ridden this way. She should have known it would bring back the dreadful moment when her father had slid from his horse and breathed his last; his death hurting still. It was a dull ache of feeling alone, utterly alone. But she was far from alone, she had servants, she had friends, she was heiress to a fortune, and she even had a lover, of sorts, and none of it mattered. What mattered was the awful fact she would have to relinquish her position as mistress of Harcourt Estate, and within the sennight; for a distant cousin had inherited her father’s title and all that it entailed.

Whilst wiping away a tear with a gloved hand she berated herself for acting the child, when she had known all along the house where she was born, where she had grown from childhood to womanhood, would one day pass to another male heir. As the eldest of three girls, both her younger sisters were now married, and she reaching the age of twenty and five, the age many young women considered themselves on the unwed shelf never to find a husband, and that was a certainty in her case.

She had, admittedly, inherited a sizeable house and lands a county distant. Though it irked somewhat to think it was the house in which her father had kept his mistress for some twenty years or more. Her mother likewise throughout her life had taken lovers, though in some respects worse than father, who had remained faithful to the one mistress. Having never puzzled which of her parents had cheated on the other first; neither had confessed to the truth when asked outright. Thus she had supposed it was a mutual arrangement, and perhaps, taking a lover was in the blood, for she could never go to a husband a virgin bride.

Looking back on a foolhardy moment with a neighbouring landowner, albeit both were very young at the time, it had lessened her chances of securing a good marriage. Despite his never having boasted of his conquest to the male fraternity of the beau monde, she was nonetheless tainted goods. Thus she had set out to ensure Amelia and Rosalie had abided to sage advice, hers, and had told them precisely the consequences of reckless indulgences. The only fortunate aspect from her disastrous moment of hedonistic insanity, she had with the grace of God escaped the indignity of falling with child.

But Max, whom she had met at a garden party, was different and they had become firm friends and then lovers. He was most careful in using the new French Letters, albeit costly, and worth every guinea for two per package. Such had indeed afforded her the freedom to enjoy fully the sensuality of having a man as married women and whores did without fear of consequences.

Whilst she could dream of love and romance, it was merely a dream, and when men had displayed great affections toward her, as happened on occasion of too many encounters at functions, she had always endeavoured to quell any notions of a blossoming romance. She could never in all honesty agree to a marriage and then have a betrothed discover to his horror after the wedding eve she was not his virgin bride.

Urging her grey gelding to the trot they skirted the woodland; and on spying the first splashes of wild daffodils dancing on the breeze near to the river, she reined Maverick down the shallow slope. It was always a tad inconvenient to dismount when there was no mounting block readily to hand, and finding a suitable gate or style or a downed tree might well entail a lengthy walk. But determined to gather a bunch of the dilly daffs she slowed Maverick to the trot, and finally drew to a halt close to the glorious little trumpets heralding spring around the corner. Kicking her foot free from the stirrup iron, and raising her right knee over the lower pommel she slid gracefully from the saddle. As always well-behaved and having let Maverick’s reins rest on his withers he set to with patient nibbling of grass whilst she in haste gathered up her skirts to rest on one arm, and settled to picking dillies with the other.

The task of keeping skirts free from her boots and holding daffs was a tiring exercise, and with a goodly bunch soon to hand she stayed a moment gazing about in search for a first primrose. The river’s flow was relatively shallow, iced grass still noticeable on the far shady bank, and leaning over the edge of the near bank she spied one primrose flowering profusely. Where there was one there would more. She strolled onward, and if there were plenty she determined she would return on the morrow and gather a posy.

Several yards farther along the bank she heard the steady tread of Maverick following in her wake, but the heavier pounding tread of a horse at the gallop drew their attention to the fore. She hadn’t expected Max today, so it was only right to presume his visit was in some way urgent.

As he drew near and reined back to the canter she sensed all was far from well with him. Impeccably attired as ever in buff riding coat and buckskin breeches, he drew his tricorne hat from head; and yelled, “Out of the way, get out of the way.”

Well she hadn’t expected that, nor had Maverick on seeing a horse at the canter and heading straight at them with no intention of reining in. Nor had she expected to see three horsemen in pursuit wearing military attire.”

Snatching at Maverick’s reins she hauled him a little way from the river path, and her faithful mount in his desire to avoid a collision almost knocked her sideways.

As Max passed them by, he said: “I’ll meet you up at the house in about a half hour if I can shake these blighters off my tail, and I’ll explain all then.”

With that said he spurred his horse to the gallop and those in pursuit, a good way farther back, soon reined in to pass her by at the trot in single file. A mere nod and polite, “Thank you, ma’am,” from the lead horseman of mean look and attired in blue military tunic was thus granted, and the second tipped his tricorne but silent in passing onward. Quick in assessing the third rider on a glorious chestnut, she noted the fair hair tied back in a queue, and he of more leisurely countenance. He duly tipped his finger to tricorne hat, his bright blue eyes keening every nuance of her person, her horse too, and with a sudden smile furthered: “Much obliged.”

Intrigued by the incident overall, the troopers not of the local militia, she pondered what Max had done to cause soldiers to chase after him. Besides, he would be lucky if she made it back to the house within the half hour. Firstly she had to walk to an old willow felled in a winter storm, and that was a good way farther along the river, and then there was the ride back, and it had taken a good fifteen minutes or more to reach her present position at a comfortable gait of trot and the occasional canter.

She again set Maverick loose to walk behind her at his leisure, and apt to dawdle in order to graze en route he was soon lagging a little way behind her. Undeterred by Max’ singular remark inferring he expected her to return to the house forthwith, she determined he would have to wait, just as she had often waited for him in the past. Thus she marched onward quite taken with the array of primroses cloaking the bank with a lemon hue, their subtle perfume drifting on the late February breeze. Max was a grown man, and whilst puzzling his present predicament she wagered he would outrun and fox his pursuers by leading them in one direction and thence back-track by a differing route.

Cheeks and nose chilled, the weight of her skirts cumbersome she dared not let them fall to the floor else the velvet fabric would draw moisture and collect mud from the path. Nonetheless it was a glorious sunny day, the first sunny day in four and she had it in mind to press a few dillies, and likewise primroses to frame behind glass at a later date. It would be a little bit of Harcourt Estate she could take with her upon relocating to Leigh House.

Once she was in the Avon vale she would have to acquaint herself with the local fraternity and church was a good starting place for meeting people and learning who was who in the general run of any locale. The local parson and his wife were always a good source all things rudimentary needs such as a farrier, the nearest wheelwright, whether there was a local cobbler. Whilst resident servants would know these things, it was a social grace to invite the parson for tea soonest rather than let him call unannounced at a time that might well prove inconvenient, albeit at his leisure.

She supposed the first few weeks would be frenetic with settling in, and she had no impression of Leigh House, its structure, it layout, nor its furnished state. She would miss the servants at Harcourt, the majority known for a long while, some since childhood and now almost in their dotage and due retirement. But she would be taking Meg, her trusted maidservant, and the senior footman Parfitt. Both were broadminded individuals, and of the utmost discretion all things the mistress.

Indeed, quite overrun with thoughts of a new home, and to some extent, a new life, the sound of horse’s hooves thundering from behind drew her from reverie. Spinning on her heels and seeing the advancing officer in blue, her heart dived. Oh lordy, he had either guessed she was acquainted with Max Casarotto, or was genuinely retreating the way he had formerly ridden across the estate.

On drawing closer he reined back from the canter to trot, and finally rode close at the walk; his former leisurely countenance given to a friendly if guarded smile. “May I be of assistance in your remounting the horse, ma’am? I should have offered beforehand, but the thrill of the chase and all rather stole my manners. I apologise, most humbly.”

Before she could put forth her preference to continue her stroll, in one liquid smooth transition of muscled legs, pert rump, and broad shoulders, he was out of the saddle and towering over her.

“That’s very kind of you to stop and offer a helping hand, and you are—”

He bowed. “Major Fitzwilliam,” replied he, his blue eyes raking her overall appearance, in particular eyeing below her raised skirts to a little leg no doubt showing above her ankle boots.

“Well major, I confess it is a tad tiresome trying to keep oneself free of mud recently churned by horses at gamely speed, and on private property at that.”

“My apologies for that too, though my lieutenant had every reason to give chase after that damnable rake, Count Casarotto.”

Sensing he had name-dropped to ascertain the slightest implication she was familiar with Max, she would not fall foul to that ploy. “Oh, then you are acquainted with the man, and what had he done to cause three soldiers to give chase?”

“A long story ma’am, suffice to say the lieutenant’s sister is beside herself with heartfelt shame.”

Oh lordy, what had Max done? “Shame?”

“The young chit is an outrageous flirt, and methinks she had it in mind to ensnare Casarotto, and well, therein doth lay the problem, for the count set to in vigorous denial she was bearing his child. Hence Lieutenant Michael Fanshawe challenged the count to a duel on the morrow, and the bounder reined his horse about and bolted, thus the chase.”

Desperate in trying to maintain sense of calm indifference to the major’s statement, and true enough, she had no lasting claim on Max, nor he on her, it was difficult to imagine he had in any way fallen foul of begetting a young miss with child.

“Ah, I see. Well, the poor girl must be beside herself with worry.”

“Indeed ma’am. And Casarotto’s chosen route across this estate led me to assume you were probably acquainted with the damnably arrogant fellow. His familiarity with the lie of the land seemed astoundingly accurate.”

“Even if I and the count were acquainted I fail to see how I could in any way assist the lieutenant in pinning him to a dual.”

“No, ma’am, that is for Lieutenant Fanshawe to achieve, but assistance in knowing where Casarotto may be heading would help in running him to ground. I’ll lay a wager he has by now eluded his pursuers and seemingly vanished on hard ground. I perceive that would likely be a private carriageway.”

“Indeed, he may well have taken to the long winding carriageway that leads from the house to the byway,” said she, aware if Max had fled that way, he would have passed her by on the opposite side of the river: therefore he had already out-foxed his pursuers.

“As maybe; now, can I help you mount, and may I escort you home?” said the major, arrestingly blue and predatory eyes levelled on hers. “I feel it my duty to do so, after having delayed your search for a suitable place to remount.”

“Indeed, I would be most appreciative of a foot up.”

Catching up Maverick’s reins he led the grey gelding forward, and having noted his placid nature, he left the reins to withers, turned, placed his hands about her waist and hefted her to the saddle. Quite the gentleman he held out his hands for the daffodils and placed them aside from the horses and immediately presented her left foot to the stirrup as though well practised in the skill of assisting ladies to saddles. He thence stepped back to retrieve her pickings, whilst she settled her right leg comfortably between the pommels. On striding to his horse flowers in hand he drew forth a handkerchief from pocket and wrapped it around the stems before remounting his steed.

As soon as ready to set off, she was somewhat amused by the major’s generous act of carrying her flowers, albeit wrapped in the kerchief to prevent the juices from the stems depositing a stain to his breeches. And she was further amused by Max’s flight, and the fact that if he had evaded the pursuing troopers he would sweat blood on seeing the major riding with her, or on hearing his voice upon entry to the house.

“You must take tea with me, major.”

“Obliged ma’am,” said he, his eyes levelling on hers in a most delightful way.

If she was not mistaken, the major was inciting a little flirting. Well in that she could oblige, as much to distract him from thoughts of Max, as to see if his gambit was purely motivated by Max’s supposed ill-deed, or whether his return ride had more to do with personal interest in her. If truly honest with herself, the major’s touch had set her pulse racing.

Had something sparked between them, or was it the lonely girl within desperate for love and affection that could never be hers?

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Author asides and historical accuracy: The word tad (tiny) drew forth a comment within a book review claiming the word tad is 20th century word. That claim is inaccurate and means the word was first recorded within a 19th-20th century dictionary, the 19th century being that of the 1800s, when the majority of dictionaries as we know them today came to fruition for standardised literary learning. That little word tad can be seen in Shakespeare plays, its abbreviation is short for something tadpole small (a measure), an expression meaning very "tiny", a "smidgen", a "speck" of dust as relevant to very small!

 There were early word lists that were very scant, not comprehensive dictionaries, such as: 
The first book generally regarded as the first English dictionary was written by Robert Cawdrey, a schoolmaster and former Church of England clergyman in 1604. Cawdrey made use of word lists published earlier in educational texts. As seen throughout history, words were long in use before the 1800s and the coming of dictionaires.  

quote Wiki: Noah Webster (1758–1843), the author of the readers and spelling books which dominated the American market at the time, spent decades of research in compiling his dictionaries. His first dictionary, A Compendious Dictionary of the English Language, appeared in 1806..    

quote Wiki: The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) is the main historical dictionary of theEnglish language, published by the Oxford University Press. ... In 1895, the title The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) was first used unofficially on the covers of the series, and in 1928 the full dictionary was republished in ten bound volumes.