Raven's Choice

By Lor E. Lynn

The Home Office Lords

James Stuart Donovan Hastings, Earl of Billingswood, has had one headache after another. First his home is in disrepair, his nephew is too young for his own good, his best friend thinks he's gone round the bend and now someone just tried to kill him. If it wasn't for the angel with strawberry blonde hair and amethyst eyes, he might well be dead. Blasted horse, thinks he knows more than the master!

Annabelle has been in hiding from both her brother and the man he chose as her fiancé. It was going so well until she found a rider-less black stallion. Falling in love with the beautiful beast wasn't part of the plan, let alone his owner. Now she's trying to let them go and escape bad guys. Who says a woman needs a man's saving?

Can James save the woman he has come to love from an overprotective brother, the reprobate knight, and his own vengeful past lover? After all, how can he marry her if he hasn't told her yet?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781682892411

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Copyright © 2016 Lor E. Lynn

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2016

ISBN 978-1-68289-240-4 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-68289-241-1 (digital)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

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

Epilogue

About the Author

Acknowledgments

To my eldest sister, who shared her addiction to reading, which carried over to my youngest sister and several of my nieces. This book would not have ever been put to print without two of them, Amanda (my motivator) and Julaine. Both of which have been my honorary editors, research assistants, and typists. Thank you all. A big thank you to my husband, Jim, who even after twenty-five years still puts the romance in my life.

Chapter One

Billing House, London, 1864

Are you completely brainless, Edgar? What do you even know of this chit? Who is she? questioned a harsh voice.

A tall dark-haired gentleman stood with his back to the impressive marble fireplace. He was dressed in fine buckskin breeches with a dove-gray waistcoat and forest-green morning coat. They set off to advantage his crisp white lawn cravat tied in a simple yet crisp style. Anyone looking at him would know he was a Corinthian. His hessians fairly gleamed. They would also see his cold emerald eyes and strong chin that defined his personality. He looked down his aristocratic nose at the younger gentleman sitting in an armchair facing him. The younger gentleman, Lord Edgar Cortland, was definitely a member of the Tulip set, with his bright-yellow waistcoat, burgundy morning coat, and shirt points up as high as his chin. He had something about the eye and chin that bore a pale resemblance to the older gentleman staring him down.

The younger man responded, Uncle James, please, she is the daughter of Reverend Engle.

A country vicar’s daughter, no better than she should be, I would wager! Found out who you are and trapped you. James sneered.

She did no such thing. If you would only meet her, you would see what she is like, defended Edgar.

I have no intention of meeting the wench. You will see no more of her, do you hear? Go back to your studies!

Edgar stood and began pacing. I am going to marry her, and you cannot do anything about it!

Wrong! Edgar, you are a minor, as is she. You need the approval of your guardians, and that will not be forthcoming! You are too young to know your own mind. James was now becoming irate with his petulant nephew. Could he not see this was for his own good? For the safety of his reputation and well-being?

I am eighteen years old. My mother had already had me at that age, Edgar argued back just as irate.

Your mother! Now you think about her. Just what would Lady Susan, God rest her soul, be feeling about this? Pride? I think not. You will not get my permission! You will not see this girl again! Not as long as I have any say about it. Is that clear? The older man looked at his nephew to emphasize this, to show to him that the argument would not be breached again.

Edgar, however, was determined to win this argument. I will find a way, I swear! You never treat me like an adult!

Growing weary of the current topic, James turned from his nephew, heading for the door, signaling an end to the conversation, and saying, Perhaps if you started acting like one, I would. Go back to your studies. You will not leave Oxford to marry this chit! If you still feel the same way about her in a year or two, we will discuss it.

Edgar leaped from his chair to race after his uncle. Frantic to reason with him, he grabbed James’s arm, urgently crying, But she will not be single that long, I tell you! She is too beautiful. She wants to be married in the spring.

James spun around, cold green eyes flashing in anger, facing his nephew who shrunk back at the spark that he saw in his uncle’s eyes. He had pushed too hard.

James bellowed, No, no, and again, no! Edgar, I will hear no more of this nonsense. You will return to school, and that is the end of it!

Edgar glanced one last time at his uncle, looking both defeated and yet determined as he let himself out of the study. A footman came to the door as Edgar was leaving, bowing his head slightly to the young lord as he passed him on his way into the study.

The sound of the door rattling on its hinges as it banged shut from the wind outside matched the storm that was warring inside of James. It brought him back to awareness that his temper was flying too high and his nephew needed time to clear his head. Time that returning to school could ensure. Taking a deep settling breath and walking around his large oak desk, James Stuart Donovan Hastings, Earl of Billingswood, settled his six-foot frame into the comfortable chair, reveling in the sudden quiet filling his study. Breathing deeply to continue to calm himself, he thought about his nephew’s predicament. Edgar had been angrier and more determined to get his way than he had ever been before. He ran his hands through his dark hair, rumpling it until he even more resembled the younger man. Only the deeper lines that surrounded his eyes and mouth contradicted the image. He was a little worried that this time he may have pushed his nephew too hard, leading Edgar to do something foolish. If only his sister were alive to see to him, she always could make him see sense.

Enough of this. I have more important matters to address. James reached out and pulled the gold cord to summon his secretary.

Yes, m’ lord? he inquired.

Please send Hayes to me.

Yes, of course, m’ lord. Bowing, he retreated from the room.

James started thinking about all the matters he had to get started before he left this afternoon for Sandringham. The prince had yet another set of blueprints for him to look at. If only the queen would let her son have some of the responsibilities of his position, it would keep His Royal Highness more productively employed. James sighed. It was going to be another long, boring house party, but he could not let His Royal Highness down.

A little time passed, and a short gray-haired gentleman rushed into the study. He seemed particularly frazzled. I am sorry, my lord. I did not realize Lord Cortland had already left.

The earl ironically replied, Funny, I would have expected the entire household to have heard our discussion. Never mind that now, we have work to do. Billingswood needs to have that roof repaired and the water closets finished.

Hayes rushed forward and handed the earl a stack of papers, explaining, The latest report from the carpenters, my lord, said that the roof is near completion. The water closets were giving them some trouble, though. You see, they are positively newfangled, and they are just not sure of everything. James’s eyes snapped up from the papers he was reading to Hayes.

I will not take any excuses. They claim to be the best. Go down there yourself and oversee them. I will be there as soon as I can get away from Sandringham. I expect them to be finished when I get there. The house party will include one or two important Americans, and I want them to be comfortable.

Yes, my lord. I will depart this afternoon. When will you be leaving, my lord? Hayes swallowed uncomfortably and shifted from foot to foot.

Within the hour, I hope. Now, make sure that everything is in order for my return and nothing is forgotten. That is all.

With the dismissal, Hayes rushed from the room at a greater speed than which he had entered. The man never seemed to go anywhere at a normal pace, even more so when the earl had his nerves worked into a bundle.

Heading up the curved stairwell toward the master suite, James found Martin, his valet, finishing the packing, just as he had anticipated.

Well, Martin, another party at Sandringham. Have you heard anything more about the issue we discussed earlier? questioned the earl.

It appears, m’ lord, that the guest list be as you expected. The prince will be surrounded by the Malborough set.

Hopefully they will not get into much mischief this time. One never knows what they will come up with for fun! Check into this chit of Lord Edgar’s, will you. I would like to hear what you can find out about her.

Yes, m’ lord.

I am sorry you will not be coming along, Martin. You know how they are about extra servants. I will share with Lord Charles this time. You went last time.

Yes, m’ lord.

The earl gave clear instructions, Keep everything under control. Send my luggage down to Sandringham, along with my phaeton. I want to be able to get away from there, if need be. I will ride Raven down. Go to Billingswood as soon as possible. You may want to give Hayes a hand with the carpenters. Having been a batman in the military, Martin was used to following orders, and the earl was confident in his valet that all he asked would be completed.

James finished dressing, turned out in white pantaloons and a snowy-white lawn shirt, meticulously tied cravat, and a pale-yellow waistcoat. Martin helped him into his blue superfine coat. As the earl had a tendency to work out at Gentlemen Jackson’s, the muscles he had acquired made it a little more challenging for Weston to design and tailor his coats. It fit like a second skin.

The earl gave a brief nod. Well, I am off. I will see you at Billingswood. Hopefully in a week or two, if all goes well.

Good-bye, m’ lord. Martin bowed him out of the suite.

The earl ran down the steps, slapping his leather gloves in his hands. His thoughts were still far away on other items. Exiting the door, he found his tiger, Hobbs, holding on to Raven, James’s favorite horse. Raven, like his name, was a magnificent black stallion who stood seventeen hands tall, a brilliant beast. He was fresh and prancing, eager to be off. The earl mounted and quickly reined Raven in and under control.

The earl turned toward the drive, readying to leave, but before taking off, he added to his tiger, I will see you at Sandringham, Hobbs.

Aye, m’ lord. Hobbs touched his gloves to his forehead like a salute. He still lived his life much as he had during wartime. He would follow the earl to Sandringham with the high perch phaeton that was pulled up to the front door. The luggage had been loaded into the equipage. There were very few the earl allowed to handle his horses; Hobbs was one of them. Then James let Raven have his head, and they were off galloping down the drive and heading toward the edge of London.

As James rode out of London, the sun was already sinking low in the sky. It would only be about an hour’s ride to Sandringham. He would be there in plenty of time to dress for dinner. He looked forward to the ride. He needed the fresh air, and it would give him time to think. He had an overwhelming schedule coming up in the next month or two. He did not like to have to take time out now to go to Sandringham. However, His Royal Highness expected him to go when he was summoned. Lord knows it was very hard for him to gain the respect of his people with the way the queen treated him.

James was halfway to Sandringham when he felt that he was being watched. He could feel a pair of eyes boring into his back. He could swear he felt hatred and anger reaching out for him, wrapping around his body like a vise. He turned in the saddle but did not see anyone. Hmm, my mind must be playing tricks on me. I need to relax. He continued on for another mile or so and stopped. He had heard hoofbeats. His mind could not have made those up; he was sure of it. But before he could look behind him, a loud crack rang through the air, and the earl felt a searing pain in his right temple. The shock and the pain caused him to tumble from Raven’s back. Raven hated gunshots and spooked, running off down the road. The earl landed heavily on his side, rolling into the ditch and hitting his head against a large rock. He lay still, with a spot of blood staining his dark hair. His vision blurred and finally went black.

The mystery rider bolted, afraid that he may have been seen. He was not sure that he should have shot the earl yet knowing when he got back to London, no one could trace this to him. They would just think that the earl had been set upon by highwaymen. Raven, that devil of a horse, would never get caught! Convinced that he would not be blamed for the earl’s current state, the rider continued back to London as fast as he could, looking forward to forgetting the name James Stuart Donovan Hastings.

Chapter Two

Annabelle stopped picking wildflowers. She swore that she had heard a shot. Who would be hunting in these woods at this time of year and this late in the day? She was torn between investigating and returning to Nanny’s cottage. She did not want to encounter any armed strangers while she was out here by herself. If she stayed quiet for a few moments and then moved, they would not know she was here. Annabelle sat down to wait. As always when she was idle, her thoughts returned to London and her brother’s house. She wondered if he was looking for her or, rather, hoped Lord Stephen and Sir Huntly would have given up by now. She figured that her old nanny’s house would be the last place they would look. If she stayed away for a few months, the old knight would probably find someone more willing to take him to husband.

How dare her brother gamble her away to that old reprobate and then insist it was a debt of honor! If only there was something for Stephen to do. If only there was more money, then he would not always want more. All he wanted was excitement, and he felt that his luck would change any day. If only they could go back to the way they were before the war. They had had such a great relationship! When he had gone to Blakely to tell her of his plans for her future, he was different. He was older, harder, and colder. It was as if his heart and emotions had been locked away somewhere deep inside him. He just would not see reason.

A crackling in the woods not far away brought Annabelle back to the present. Her heart pounded at the sound. She decided it would be a good idea to move. She stood up and shook out her skirts. She knew the path well as she liked the solitude of the woods and had been spending much of her time here since arriving at Nanny’s. Nanny would lecture her if she saw her without her bonnet again. Annabelle, however, liked the feel of the sun on her head. See how the sun turned her hair to coppery gold, and the fresh air had put some color in her cheeks. A poet would have likened her to one of the wildflowers that she carried in her arms. She wore only a simple white muslin gown with a lavender sash. It would have been hard to judge her age; she looked young.

She started walking back. The flowers would look nice in Nanny’s cottage. As she reached the clearing before the road, she automatically checked to make sure the area was clear before crossing the road. She certainly hoped those hunters were far away by now. As she looked left, she saw a giant yet beautiful black stallion grazing on the grass beside the road. Speaking softly to him, she carefully approached him. The stallion continued to eat but was shaking. It was as if he understood that she meant him no harm.

You are a beauty, are you not? But now where is your master? And why are you shaking? You could not have been out here all by yourself, surely. How about a clean stall and fresh hay to eat while we look for him, hmm? she crooned to the horse.

Annabelle moved the wildflowers to one arm and took hold of the black’s bridle. She walked him back to the stables behind Nanny’s. As she entered the stable, Cricket whinnied. Yes, baby. I am happy to see you too. I have brought you some company. The bay’s head peaked up over the stall divider. He and the black sniffed the air. It would be nice for Cricket to have some company. After bedding him down, Annabelle ran into the cottage to give the flowers to Millie, Nanny’s helper.

Breathlessly she explained, Millie, I just came across a riderless stallion. I have put him in the stables, but I intend to go search for his rider.

But, Miss Annabelle, ye shouldn’ go alone. Old Amos be at the ’ome farm. ’e’ll ’elp, Millie replied.

I will ride that way first. Annabelle ran back to the stables to get Cricket. She noticed that the black was settling down nicely and munching the hay. Cricket was not hard to saddle since Annabelle had become used to doing it herself. She rode to the home farm, wondering all along about the black’s rider. The road was not that busy of a thoroughfare, but it was a shortcut to certain estates and towns close to London. That black was a prime bit of blood, and its owner had to be a true Corinthian. She did not believe that the rider had been thrown either.

Amos, where are you? Riding into the open yard, Annabelle looked for Amos. He and a young lad that Annabelle knew to be his son came out of the house. Amos, we may need the wagon. I heard a shot when I was in the woods, and I just found a riderless stallion. His owner cannot be far. Annabelle waited impatiently for them to hitch the wagon. I will lead you back to where I found the horse, and we can go back from there. Annabelle rode out of the yard with the wagon close behind.

She rode first to where she had found the black. Her first inclination was that the rider had to have been coming from London, not returning. She based this on where she had first heard the shot and then had found the horse. She started down the road, looking to both sides in the ditches. He may have rolled down the embankments on either side of the road if he fell from his horse. About a mile later, the road looked a little scuffled, as if the horse had scrambled quickly. Annabelle dismounted and climbed down the embankment. Here it was a little steeper than farther along. The ditches were so full of coarse brush and rocks it was hard to see anything but the growth.

Hoofbeats sounded as Amos approached and dismounted from the wagon on the other side of the road and began searching, taking Annabelle’s lead. After a short time, Annabelle heard a shout. Climbing back up the embankment, she saw Amos a little farther on. Annabelle ran down the road to where he was and looked down. Lying amongst the rocks was a man. You could tell by his superfine coat and tailored riding britches that he was a gentleman, and probably a very important one. But above the fine clothes, Annabelle noticed immediately the blood running down the side of his face and coating locks of his hair.

’E ’as ’it ’is ’ead on the rock where ’e landed. ’E be alive, though, Amos remarked as he bent over him to examine the wound to the man’s head more closely.

Do we dare move him, Amos? Annabelle asked, nervously twisting a bit of her skirts she had grabbed in preparations to hurry down the embankment to aid Amos with the mystery gentleman.

We’ll ’ave to, miss, if we’re goin’ to get ’im someplace where a doctor can look at ’im.

Annabelle made a move to climb down to help, but Amos held up his had to signal her to stop. His son had arrived while they were deciding whether or not to move the man, and he climbed down the embankment in her stead, shooting her a glance, assuring her things would be okay. Amos and his son, as gently as they could, picked up the stranger. They were having some difficulty as the man was not little. In fact, he was quite tall.

Amos instructed, Ye ’as to turn the wagon, miss. We’ll take ’im to Nanny’s.

You are right, Amos. Annabelle ran to the horses’ heads and slowly backed them around. By the time she finished, the men had reached the road. Annabelle quickly