Lucky John

By Ellie Thomas

Owen Montgomery has been a landless drifter since the Royalist defeat at the Battle of Worcester nine years previously when he was seventeen. Since then, he has lingered abroad as an insignificant follower in the retinue of exiled King Charles.

In the spring of 1660, Owen travels across England as an envoy on behalf of the King. Despite this important diplomatic mission, Owen regards himself as little better than the highwaymen he encounters on the lawless roads.

During a brief stop at an obscure roadside inn, he encounters Lucky John, a bullied skivvy with a sweet nature who makes a lasting impression. When Owen impulsively rescues John from his unkind employer, he has no idea of the impact the lad will make on his lonely existence.

Will Owen reject this chance to open up and share his life? And can Owen be convinced he deserves John’s love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Jul 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9781685504793

Book preview

Lucky John

By Ellie Thomas

Published by JMS Books LLC

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2023 Ellie Thomas

ISBN 9781685504793

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Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

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This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

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Lucky John

By Ellie Thomas

Chapter 1

Oxfordshire, England, March 1660

If Owen Montgomery’s bay mare hadn’t got a stone in her shoe on the road to Woodstock, then his fortune might never have changed for the better.

Unaware that this routine mischance might alter his entire future, Owen felt Bess’s stride become uneven at the halfway mark on their intended route. He muttered a blasphemous curse at the potential setback. But his frustration was momentary. Experienced couriers knew not to expect their route to be entirely free from mishaps.

Alright then, girl, he said soothingly, drawing the horse to a halt and dismounting onto the road’s uneven surface. Bess stood trustingly as Owen inspected the suspect hoof. She barely flinched when he produced the hoof pick from his belt pouch to ease out the sharp embedded stone that was the cause of her discomfort.

Owen threw the offending pebble into the hedgerow so the next passing steed would be free from harm. He stroked Bess’s neck as she snorted and put her foot down gingerly. There’s my good girl, he soothed her in the gentle tone reserved for her alone, his best and only friend these past few years when sent on missions the length and breadth of England.

He walked by her side to judge her gait, noting that even without the encumbrance of his weight, Bess was favouring the afflicted hoof. Owen bit back another oath that their progress must be halted, at least for today. He would not push his gallant travelling companion past the point of pain, even on the king’s business.

It was growing late in the afternoon. Bess was likely to stumble in the dusk and hazard a further injury. He mentally calculated their route, reckoning that at walking pace, they would not reach Woodstock before nightfall. If only Sir Anthony hadn’t dawdled until after dinnertime and left me kicking my heels. Although loitering in Banbury marketplace awaiting Sir Anthony Cope’s decision had seemed more of a gain than a loss at the time.

The clerk at London’s Palace of Westminster refused to dole out messengers’ pay until their duties had been fulfilled and accounted for. In the meantime, from long habit, Owen survived on his wits and the occasional gratuity. A brief interaction was sufficient to gather there’d be slim pickings from Sir Anthony.

When awaiting the gentleman’s verdict that morning, Owen brushed past a few wealthy-looking townsfolk in Banbury’s crowded marketplace and lightened their purses. This had proved a wise investment. When Owen returned to the hamlet where Sir Anthony resided, he collected the written reply without any thanks, let alone remuneration.

As far as Banbury’s citizens were concerned, Owen was simply another forgettable passer-by. He had been careful not to take too much from a particular purse, so the deficit wasn’t immediately noticeable. Even if he had the option to turn back, Owen would have hesitated to revisit the scene of his crime for the indignity of being flung into the lock-up for pilfering.

While on the road, Owen would often sleep under a hedgerow or in the shelter of one of the half-ruined barns that scattered the countryside despoiled after years of war and the last eighteen months of lawless unrest.

But Bess’ well-being came first. After all, we can’t walk to Woodstock in the dark, he thought with a glint of wry humour. Sir Thomas Spencer can afford to tarry a while longer. At least he and Bess were travelling on what passed for a main thoroughfare. Partly from common sense and partly from optimism, he surmised that sooner or later they would come across an inn where they might stay the night.

By morning, after a good rest, any tenderness in Bess’ foot should have abated, and they would be on their way to deliver the next missive. The slight delay would count for nothing in