The Whisperer of Storms

By Veronica R. Winters

Hope St. Clair always felt out of place, especially as a young clairvoyant living in late Regency, England. She has no interest in the things a young woman her age should. Rather, she assists the constabulary with missing person cases or solving crimes. Many times, her concern for others often comes before her own well-being. Her world is turned upside down when the man who haunts her dreams steps into her life.

The mysterious Hunter Rayne of Ravensworth, the most sought after man in England, is the only person Hope is unable to read, yet he is in dire need of her assistance. She is further alarmed when she has a disturbing vision involving him. Unforeseen circumstances compel Hope to flee her home, and her way of life. After months on the road with the Romany, she’s once again forced to endure Mr. Rayne’s enigmatic demeanor. Will she be able to look beyond her indifference to help him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Veronica R. Winters
• Release date: Oct 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311733559

Veronica R. Winters

Veronica R. Winters has been creating stories in her head ever since she was a child. She started writing as a stay-at-home mom when her love for reading and her active imagination prompted her to write her first novel. She enjoys reading historical and romantic fiction, helping at the library, and traveling. She lives in Minnesota with her husband and three children.

Book preview

Chapter One

London,

During the late Regency . . .

Please don’t let us be too late!

Hope St. Clair pulled back the window curtain of her uncle’s carriage as it raced along in the faint predawn light. To her dismay, the eastern sky was painted in hues of pink and orange. She had lost precious moments trying to procure her horse, only to be delayed by the stable boy, Jayce. He had insisted on accompanying her, only if he would drive her in a carriage instead, maintaining she would be safer riding inside. Hope finally conceded on the condition she would take full responsibility if they were discovered. She tried not to think of the lectures her aunt and uncle would give if they found out. She couldn’t afford to worry about that at the moment. Her first concern was to prevent the tragic events she had seen in her mind’s eye.

Ever since Hope was a young child, she could sense things others could not. It began gradually; at first she would only have a feeling about something such as a person she did not care for or a place that frightened her. It was later the person she disliked showed their true nature, or the truth revealed of some tragic event that occurred in a place Hope feared. Her gift grew along with her as she soon became adept at finding missing objects.

Gift?! Hope sighed. Some days, it was more like a curse!

It was true many times her ability interfered with her life such as a disturbing vision during a family outing or during a peaceful moment of reading. The visions had taken their toll at her expense. She usually felt drained of energy afterwards. A perfect example was her family’s visit to Coventry. It had started out as an ordinary day. Her foster parents thought it would be a grand idea to visit the beautiful cathedral located in Coventry. At times, Hope wished she would have never gone there. She hated that she ruined the day for the rest of her family.

A jolt of the decelerating carriage brought Hope out of her musings. They had arrived. Smoothing the hood of her ice blue cape over her dark hair, she emerged from the carriage and was handed down by her coachman just as the first rays of sunlight lit the morning sky. Hope suddenly felt much older than her eighteen years. A squeeze from Jayce’s hand made her realize she was still holding on tightly to his. It wasn’t that long ago she had been taller than him. Now she looked up at him as he gave her a reassuring smile, his blue eyes full of warmth. Hope gratefully returned his smile as she relinquished her hold and moved forward. She reminded herself to remain calm as she approached the scene ahead of her, the one she had seen in her mind. The clearing before her was littered with early spring blossoms. One would have thought they had stumbled into a mystical world suitable for fairies if it wasn’t for the grim scene beyond. There were five gentlemen present, two of them standing back to back holding dueling pistols. One could tell the two men were brothers, for they were mirror images of each other with sandy brown hair and similar facial features. Even their height and build were similar, save that the older brother was a little taller. The biggest difference between the two was the elder brother’s eyes were blue, while his younger brother’s were brown. All eyes were on her as she approached.

Good morning, gentlemen.

One of the two seconds stepped forward, Miss St. Clair, I do not think this is a place for you to be.

Of course it is. Hope regarded the two men for a moment before she continued, I think you know why I’m here.

Of course we know, snapped the younger duelist. You’re here to meddle in affairs that are none of your concern.

Hope nodded. She expected no less. She could sense her mere presence was making him nervous. It was a good sign because it meant he believed in her.

Since we established why I am here, why are you here? Hope replied. Explain to me what this is about.

You’re the one with foresight; you tell us why we’re here, the older brother challenged. Hope knew he was the key to her success in this endeavor, or her failure.

As usual, it’s all about a woman. This is unusual, as more often than not, one of her family members calls out the offender—normally duels are not two gentlemen fighting over the same woman. I’d say I’m in the right place as I’m accustomed to the unusual. All five men looked at her as though they couldn’t believe her audacity.

Tell me, gentlemen . . . do either one of you love her? Hope questioned. Or at least have strong feelings for her?

The two young men both looked to the ground in silence. The seconds stared at Hope, speechless as she continued, If it’s not an issue of love, then why are you doing this? Honor? Do you truly believe she was an innocent before the two of you? I assure you, my good sirs, she was not! If she truly cared for either one of you, would she not be here? I sense she had an ulterior motive; but, I know not what it is. Hope paused, wondering if she was getting through to them. There’s another reason why the two of you are here, I know it. Tell me what started this, and let me help you.

Let’s get this over with, the elder duelist said, avoiding Hope’s gaze.

You cannot do this, Hope urged. Think of your family. What will this do to them? Think of your mother! She lost your father no more than a year ago.

Hope glanced at the elder brother, Pierce, but due to his impassive expression, she turned to his younger brother, Thane. She could tell by his anxious expression he was listening to her. She was intercepted before she could proceed.

Move aside, Miss St. Clair. Pierce warned as he said to his second. Get her out of here.

I will not! Hope replied defiantly as she stood her ground. If you choose to continue with this idiocy, you’re going to have to go through me!

The second moved forward and took Hope’s arm, Please, Miss St. Clair, don’t make this more difficult. As Hope resisted, he took her other arm and began to guide her away. She knew it was futile to struggle with a man who was twice her size, but she wasn’t about to give up. She decided to use her most powerful weapon.

Ask your seconds how innocent the lady in question is! I don’t see you calling them out!

The man’s grip on her arm tightened into a viselike hold. You better cease your prattling, girl!

On seeing his friend being manhandled, Jayce started towards them with a determined look in his eye. Even at eighteen years of age, he was no match for the burly man.

No, Jayce! Hope warned. I’m fine. He knows better than to harm me. I don’t think he’d like to incur the wrath of the Duke of Devonwood.

Release her at once! Pierce commanded to his second. The second complied, and once free, Hope rubbed her stinging arm. The brute probably left a bruise she would have to conceal. He couldn’t help it; the philandering fool probably thought the truth would never come out. But he proved Hope was correct by his reaction.

You see, gentlemen, jealousy is a powerful emotion that may cloud one’s judgment. Sometimes, there’s a lot more to a rivalry than what’s obvious to the casual observer. This isn’t about the woman at all, is it?

Why do you care what happens between us? Pierce demanded. We hardly know one another.

Hope thought about the many reasons in her head as she took in the field of honor in which they stood. Some places where an act of violence had commenced left sensory imprints at the location. Regardless of the passage of time, intense images or emotions were embedded there, reminders of what once was. This field was the perfect example. Hope knew many had been injured or even killed here for reasons as foolish as those that brought the brothers here on this day. She could feel the burning sensation of a bullet piercing flesh in various parts of the body. Some of the losers had died. She could feel the coldness as the victim bled to death. Her sensitivity as a clairvoyant made it possible for her to feel those sensations. If given a choice, she would have never come here. Hope knew she did not have a choice as she looked at the two brothers.

I couldn’t face your mother again if I stood by and did nothing. The poor woman, widowed not that long ago. I have to wonder what your father would think if he could see you now, Hope mused as she walked several paces away from them. Looking to Pierce, she continued as she gestured toward the neutral party, Mr. Sutton will do the count. When you’re about to turn and fire, something will distract both of you. Only, your pistol fires first. She paused for effect before she continued with her most powerful words of all. You will shoot your little brother through the heart where I stand.

Thane’s face paled on hearing these words. Hope was standing about ten paces away where he would have been standing when they were to turn and fire. He slowly lowered his pistol. She turned to Pierce to add, You will therefore be executed for his murder! That is your future if you continue with this madness. You will have no future. You will leave your poor mother completely alone in this world.

Hope waited as what she revealed to him began to sink in. He slowly lowered his pistol.

Forgive me for being blunt, gentlemen. My insight has allowed me to be nothing less, Hope explained as she approached them with her hands extended. Woodenly, the brothers relinquished their weapons into her safe keeping.

You’re fortunate to have each other. I never had any siblings. If not for friends, I would have had a very lonely childhood. She glanced over at Jayce as he returned her gaze.

The sound of hoof beats echoed in the distance.

That would have been the distraction. Hope muttered under breath. It’s the constabulary! You’d best be on your way before you’re thrown into Newgate! Hurry! I will distract them!

The seconds each grabbed a pistol from Hope. Thane stepped forward and clasped Hope’s hand in his.

Thank you. I’m indebted to you. Let me know what I can do to repay you.

Don’t get caught . . . and stay away from that woman, Hope replied. Now go!

Shouldn’t we be leaving as well? Jayce suggested as they watched each party scramble into their carriages.

I should stay, Hope replied. You should go.

I’m not leaving you here by yourself. Jayce argued as they watched the carriages depart in haste.

Please, Jayce! Hope pleaded. Leave while you can! I’ll be fine!

He refused to budge.

It’s too late. Hope shook her head as a group of horse and riders came into view. I’m sorry to have involved you in this. I’ll deal with the constabulary.

I’m not worried about myself, Jayce replied.

Hope St. Clair! The leader exclaimed as they pulled their horses to a halt. Why am I not surprised to see you here?

Good morning, Constable Radford. Hope smiled sweetly at him.

Would you kindly tell me what you’re doing here?

Would you believe I’m enjoying the brisk morning air? Hope replied innocently.

٭ ٭ ٭ ٭ ٭

Half an hour later, the carriage escorted by Constable Radford arrived at the Duke of Devonwood’s townhouse. The constable assisted Hope from the carriage.

Of all the times I’ve helped you, and this is how you treat me? Hope muttered. Constable Radford had consulted with her often on cases of missing people or with solving crimes. She in fact had helped him solve a few cases, usually by providing him with a vital clue or piece of information. Couldn’t you allow me to return to Devonwood without my uncle’s knowledge?

Not without a proper chaperone, the constable admonished. You entrusted your life to that mere boy for a coachman. What would have happened if you were set upon by highwaymen or worse?

I’m more concerned about what my uncle will do, Hope replied. What will you do when he confines me to my room again? Or worse?

You’ll be fine.

Who will you find to help you then? Hope demanded. Someone of my ability is not easy to replace.

Exactly! the constable replied. Need I remind you of that the next time you get a silly notion in your head, you stubborn girl!

Just so you know, Jayce caught me trying to saddle my horse on my own. He thought I’d be better protected in a carriage than riding in the middle of the night by myself.

Before the constable had the chance to reply, the front door opened by none other than the Duke of Devonwood. By his stern expression, Hope could tell he was not happy to see her. She took a step closer to Constable Radford.

Hello, Uncle Arthur.

Chapter Two

Early morning mists hung over the streets of London like a shroud. An elaborate carriage wove its way through the murky thoroughfares. It pulled to a halt in front of a lavish townhouse.

We’ve arrived, an elderly servant announced to his employer, who sat in the shadowed seat opposite of him.

You go ahead, Porter, the man replied. I shall only be a moment.

Porter nodded. It had been a difficult decision for his employer to return to his homeland after all these years. They had traveled the world for what felt like ages and seen many lands and shores. Porter’s advance in years had made their travels more difficult in recent years. It was time to return home.

A footman opened the carriage door, and Porter stepped out, leaving his master to his thoughts. When was the last time he had stayed in town? It had been a very long time. Porter had informed him an entire new staff had been hired to ready the townhouse for his arrival. This was only the first leg of his journey. After a short stay in town, they would return to his ancestral country estate in northern Yorkshire. He dreaded returning. There were scores of sad memories there—memories he tried to bury for a very long time.

Mr. Rayne? the footman said as he continued to hold the door. Mr. Rayne pulled himself from the past and stepped out into the misty morning. The servants had come out of the house to greet him and lined both sides of the walk. He steeled himself for the constant typical reaction he received from the opposite gender.

He was considered a handsome man, who appeared to be in his late twenties, early thirties. He had dark, wavy hair that was slightly longer than the current fashion. His eyes, pools of aqua blue, were one of his best features, according to his admirers. He was cleanly shaven, but a day or two, or even a week’s worth growth of stubble never affected any of his female followers. He stood slightly over six feet and was athletic in build. He was attired entirely in black, save for a white lawn shirt and a loosely tied cravat. He never sported a hat. Fashion was never high on his priority list though he did prefer a good pair of Wellingtons for his choice of footwear.

Steeling himself, he alighted from the carriage. Sure enough, the first female servants who laid eyes on him paused in mid-curtsy as he came into their line of vision. It was always the same; females would stop whatever they were doing when they caught sight of him. They would stare at first, then smile or giggle, and sometimes the bolder ones would approach him, propriety be damned! Mr. Rayne tried to be as polite as he could be, but many times it proved to be difficult. It didn’t matter where he went; none of them could ever compare to her.

Chapter Three

Hope St. Clair! What were you thinking?! the Duke of Devonwood’s voice boomed like thunder through the study of his London townhouse. A man of fifty years, his dark hair was beginning to gray at the temples. It was surprising his wayward niece hadn’t caused him to turn completely gray! We left you in the country because of your extreme dislike for the Season. You promised to keep out of trouble if we left you there under supervision. Imagine my surprise when you show up on our doorstep this morning! Not to mention you convinced the stable boy to drive you all the way to London . . . to stop a duel, I might add.

Hope cringed, not at her uncle’s raised voice but the sound of disappointment in it.

I’m sorry, but I had no choice. It was the only response she could offer. It was better to let him believe she had talked Jayce into helping her.

The Lord only knows what could have happened to you on your journey here. At least Jayce had the sense to take an older, non-crested carriage. Still, you could have been set upon by thieves! Not to mention you were alone with the chap for that amount of time.

Jayce had been her friend even before she came to live at Devonwood, when her mother brought her for a visit when she was five. He was blessed with quite a sense of humor. Even after a disturbing vision or dream, he could get Hope smiling again by imitating the crabby baker’s wife from the village or even the temperamental housekeeper at Devonwood. Hope would have rather gone off with Jayce exploring, playing in his fort, or acting out stories of knights and princesses than studying or playing with girls her own age. It was quite daunting for her family that she preferred to spend time with a servant’s child. Although they were close, she only felt for him as she would a brother. She knew he felt the same way.

I should dismiss him at once without a reference, the duke muttered.

Hope looked up at her uncle in disbelief, You wouldn’t dare! His father is deceased, his mother is ill! It’s the only way he can support himself and his mother. I’m the one who got him into this! If you want to punish someone, punish me!

Calm yourself; I won’t dismiss him, the duke assured her. although your selfless natures tend to get the two of you in trouble, such as this morning. Though I am grateful you weren’t out alone on the road, I have to wonder how I will salvage your reputation.

My reputation? Hope repeated. You’re worried about my reputation when lives were at stake? What was I supposed to do? Let them kill each other?! Do you think I’d want that on my conscience? And in case you’ve forgotten, I already have a reputation. The Whisperer of Storms, remember?

The duke knelt down next to her, concern showing in his hazel eyes. My dear, you never think of the consequences to yourself. Remember Timmy Travers?

How could I ever forget when you mention his name frequently?

Timmy Travers. He was a constant reminder of the duke’s failure to protect Hope from the outside world. The Devonwoods were able to hide Hope’s secret from society until her fourteenth year. It was then Hope had a dream that saved an innocent man, no other than Timmy Travers, from the executioner.

In saving the man’s life, Hope lost her anonymity and took a blow to her reputation. Not only because in her haste, she arrived without the benefit of a chaperone, which was unacceptable for a young lady of her age. She had also dreamt of communicating with the deceased victim and had firsthand knowledge of the event which had caused his untimely demise. The knowledge of Hope’s unique gift spread like wildfire. She soon became notorious for her predictions. Hope was aware of the whispers and the stares, but no one ever dared to say anything to her face, for the duke was a well-respected and commanding man. He was the reason she wasn’t thrown into Bedlam.

Pulling herself from the memory, she faced her uncle. We’ve been over this countless times. I couldn’t let him die. I would do the same for him today.

I don’t know what to do with you! The duke sighed in frustration. I’m trying to protect you, and you’re fighting me every step of the way!

I see what I see for a reason, Hope explained. If I wasn’t meant to be involved, I wouldn’t have the visions.

Hope knew the duke had heard these words countless times. She watched him as he considered what she said. His face suddenly lit up as though an idea blossomed in his mind.

Hope, I think we’ve been going about this the wrong way, her uncle said as he rose and gazed out the study window. Perhaps I have been lenient in considering your future. It is a lot to ask of your cousin to look after you when your aunt and I are gone. You’re in need of a husband.

A husband?! Hope uttered in disbelief as her uncle turned back to face her.

I’ve decided this will be your first Season. The Dearborn ball is tonight, and you will be attending it with us.

A ball? Hope’s velvety-brown eyes widened. You cannot be serious!

What else am I to do, Hope? I considered marrying you to your cousin, Edward, but you would have none of it.

That is because he could do much better than me for a wife. I am not meant to be a duchess. Plus, he is practically my brother! I know it’s acceptable to marry a cousin, but I still maintain we are too closely related to marry!

Yes, you told me of this before when you adamantly rejected the idea of marrying him, and shortly afterwards, Edward left to travel the continent.

Are you saying I drove him away? Hope demanded. "You were the one who tried to marry me off to him. Perhaps he left because you never asked him what he wanted."

Arthur scoffed, "Let us not rehash this, Hope. I have given in to you on that matter, but you will be attending the ball tonight. Now, I suggest you rest up, as we will be out quite late."

When Hope was about to argue, Arthur interrupted her. That is enough, Hope. Go upstairs, and ask Lily for her assistance to ready you for the ball. I’m sure there are plenty of gowns hiding in the back of your wardrobe you’ve never even worn. Now go!

Stubborn men are nothing but trouble! Hope huffed as she stormed out of the room.

She heard the duke mutter after her, Try having a clairvoyant niece!

٭ ٭ ٭ ٭ ٭

He’s making you attend a ball? Lady Lily said in disbelief as she watched her cousin pace the floor of her bedroom.

Hope paused for a moment from her pacing to reply, Oh, it gets better than that. He’s bringing me out for the Season.

Lily’s blue eyes widened. Surely, you jest!

I think he’s still cross with me for my actions this morning. Hope sat down on the bed next to her cousin. What else could I have done? Those brothers were about to destroy each other . . . not to mention their family.

I know, but Hope . . . Father is right. You never think of yourself when you do these things. I know it’s in your nature to put others before you, but you have to think of the rest of us. What would it do to us if anything happened to you? You’re the closest thing to a sister I have.

Hope smiled impishly, We could never pass for sisters because we look nothing alike. Indeed, they were total opposites. Where Lily had copper tresses and eyes as blue as sapphires, Hope’s hair was as dark as chocolate, as were her eyes. Lily was fair skinned, as was fashionable, where Hope had a darker complexion. Lily was average height, where Hope was small in stature. Lily excelled as an artist and was an excellent pianist. Hope couldn’t play any instruments, and her drawings were not anything that could be put on display. What they did share was a bloodline and the same age though Lily was six months her elder.

Lily shook her head, You’re avoiding the subject.

Hope sighed, The only reason for being presented in a Season is to find a suitable husband. That’s not going to happen for me because no man in his right mind would choose a bride like me.

That is not true, Lily argued. You’re kind, lovely, and you can catch any man’s eye.

It’s not catching his eye that’s the problem. It’s trying to keep his interest. Hope walked over to the window. Beads of rain dotted the glass. The rain clouds seemed to move in when she arrived at the townhouse that morning as though in reflection of her mood. What man wants a wife who can see the things I’ve seen?

What are you talking about? Lily joined her cousin by the window. Why would you say that?