Noble Secret (eBook)
220 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-9130-7 (ISBN)
A graduate of the University of Texas at Austin, Ms. Atley began her collegiate studies in the School of Business seeking an Accounting Degree. Yet, she soon found herself wishing for a more creative outlet. And so, it was not long before she enrolled in the School of Liberal Arts, where Ms. Atley earned a B.A. focusing on English, History and the Classics. Her early years were filled with dance, music and sports like tennis, but reading and history were always hobbies, as well. Oddly enough, it was in middle school when Ms. Atley told the class she was going to be a writer. Not because she thought she had any talent, or was ever told she did, it was just something she liked to do - to make up stories. She honed her talent on her own, and over time her skills began to reap rewards. Her professors were some of the first to remark on her talent, one going so far as to accuse her of plagiarism in her freshman year. And so, with their encouragement, she continued to write. After graduation, however, when life took on a more serious chapter, Sheila suddenly found herself a wife, mother of three sons, and an office manager - writing would have to wait! During those years, she had typed or written out loads of book ideas, strings of verses and paragraphs, dialogues, lines of poetry, to but set them all aside. As time progressed, and the last of her three sons graduated from college, she suddenly found herself able to settle into writing. Her first novel, 'Discovering Caroline,' was published in 2019. Tragically, just after publication, she suffered an accident that heavily curbed her ability to write. In fact, it would take over a year for her to take up writing again - and those baby steps were fitful indeed, netting few results. As her health improved, she continued to beat out the keys and finally completed the sequel to her first novel. Sheila happily lives in West Texas with her husband of thirty-five years and their chocolate lab.
Last we saw Lady Caroline, she was boarding the HMS Conquest with her brother, Viscount Wyeth, leaving the Virginia Colony behind. Her hope was to be reunited with kith and kin at her family's castle, Beaumaer, in the dales of Yorkshire, England. But upon her long-awaited arrival, all is not as she wished it. Bound by cradle betrothal to the Marquess of Wexley, her cousin, whom she loathes, Caroline feels that he is one fence that must be done away with speedily. But when she discovers that the betrothal is heralded not only by her father and uncle, the duke of Kendyl, but by King George II as well, she knew not how to politely quash such an arrangement. Too, her father, the Earl of Beaumaer, has his family stay much too long at their manor in London, where they soon find her past grasping at her heels as Jacobite Rebels continue in their relentless pursuit to capture her. An endless menace, their tentacles and schemes seemingly reach far and wide - in low places and high. Then there is the pirate was he not hanged in the Colony or will he show himself as well?Because of these threats, she fairly becomes imprisoned in her family's manor to but discover that there is no clump of ground she can claim as safe. Feeling pent in and restless, her only desire is to be free free to ride, free to choose, and free to wed the only man she has ever loved. But will Captain Jones abandon her? Will he allow his anger with her to overcome his love for her or will he follow his heart? And will Lady Caroline find the courage, the fortitude, the fortune to overcome that which would defeat her? Find out in this latest romantic journey by Sheila Atley, "e;Nobel Secret,"e; the sequel to "e;Discovering Caroline."e;
Chapter One
Crossing that vague line that marks the seas, three of His Majesty’s warships left ocean behind as cold westerly winds propelled them swiftly into the foaming waters of the English Channel. With ensigns of white at the jack staff and the cross of St. George at the stern, the vessels sliced effortlessly through the waters and stretching their sails, steered far north of the Channel Islands and pirate ridden seas.
On course to reach Portsmouth after a mere five-week Atlantic voyage, they’d not ease their sails now.
All gathered above deck of the HMS Conquest to welcome the first glimpse of Great Britain as a sagging summer sun splashed golden beams of light flickering across the choppy surface of the waters in a welcoming jubilee. Much cheering commenced upon the glimpse of floating seabirds or drifting coastland hinting land was near.
But, as the sun dipped lower in the horizon, and the winds and sea calmed, the bloated belly of the sails began to slacken.
All aboard continued to mill about in anticipation of reaching the quay, as did the crew, so that little notice was being paid to the slight mist that had begun to rise from the waters. At first it was quite unremarkable, but as the vessels sailed on, the fog began to thicken into a filmy white shroud threatening to swallow the vessels whole, when suddenly, a crewman manning the top castle sounded a warning sending startled seamen to their stations.
An eerie quietude settled upon the deck, as the guests held onto the railings hoping for a safe landing.
Too late to shape a new course, Captain Fletcher, having faith in his crew and his helmsman, relied upon the sights of the men aloft and the sending and receiving of bell warnings to navigate safely through the fog.
Had they arrived thirty minutes later they would have been sailing blind.
Still, the brume, as though meaning to work against them, continued to thicken, whilst the warships drew closer to land.
Although the harbor drifted in and out of view, the crew kept true, faithfully following orders and performing their duties with precision so that in good time, the HMS Conquest and her sister ships eventually dropped anchor unharmed.
All aboard, including her seaworthy guests, breathed a sigh of relief.
Especially one wrapped in a velvet cloak of midnight blue, one who trembled with profound joy at the thought of setting her booted foot upon the soil of her homeland. One, who had been spirited away nearly two years past. Impatient for the orderly preparations of harboring the vessel to give way, she paced the quarterdeck as droplets of mist dotted her lashes and cheeks.
But she did not travel alone.
Just then, a man, coming to stand alongside her, took her hand, and giving her a slight bow, said, “Care, might I be the first of many to congratulate you on your long-awaited return home?”
“Oh yes, for if not for you, ’tis doubtful I’d be making a return a’tall.”
“’Twas my utmost pleasure,” grinned he.
“There you two are,” said Wyeth, stealing up beside them, “the order to debark should be given anon.”
As his lordship spoke, the mist parted just long enough for Captain Jones to catch sight of two men ducking behind the seawall. Leaning close to his lordship’s ear, he warned, “My lord, I fear we are being observed.”
“Are we?” asked he, with raised brows.
“Aye,” whispered he, “I pray you haste her ladyship away lest she be seen.”
Nodding, he took his sister’s arm, urging, “Come, Caroline, let us see our trunks are in order.”
“Must we?”
“Would you leave aught behind?”
“Never, for mama went to much trouble on my behalf.”
“Just so.”
Soon after the vessels made port, a cavalryman was wrestled from his warm bunk, and as ordered, quickly dressed before making his way to the stables. There, he was charged with reaching London by forenoon to deliver a letter to a certain nobleman of some consequence. Honor-bound to King and Country, the armed courier mounted a saddled bay, and leaving Portsmouth behind, road hard for London.
Some while later, the former guests of the HMS Conquest and their trunks were loaded into the several coaches before crossing through King James Gate and up High Street to their suite of rooms at The George.
Tossing a damp cloak over a chair by the hearth to dry, Lady Caroline exclaimed, “We’re very nearly home, Mrs. Lockwood!”
“Aye, we are at that, my lamb.”
“Only I do so wish we had arrived in the full of day, so I could cast my eyes upon Britian’s shores once again!”
“’Tis been a dreary long while, my lady.”
“Aye, it has at that. I do so long for Beaumaer.”
“Mayhap our stay in London’ll be a short one.”
“I do seem to have lost my fondness for it,” she grimaced.
“’Tis a dung heap of scoundrels and blackguards, ’tis,” replied she, when a knock signaled the appearance of two manservants toting a copper tub and a maid with a light repast of cold meat, cheese, bread, and wine. The bath was placed before the hearth where a generous fire had been prepared, and as the logs crackled, and the final can of heated water added, her ladyship slowly immersed herself into the warm, scented bath, cooing, “Ah, ’tis heavenly.”
“Aye, lamb, there’s naught like a warm bath what soothes the soul.”
“Hmm, decidedly so,” agreed she, sipping spiced wine, and as she luxuriated in the blissful, aromatic warmth of spice and vanilla, her thoughts drifted off to a conversation she and Captain Jones had early in the voyage home, when she perchance asked, “Captain Jones, think you Greyfell is well?”
“Aye, I’m sure of it. Gabriel promised to take very special care of him,” replied he, gazing into starry blue eyes.
“I so wish you could have boarded him on one of the King’s vessels.”
“There was no time, as the captain was quite anxious to depart with haste.”
“I do trust Gabriel, and Big Jim, of course.”
“As you should, which reminds me of the reason I requested a moment of private speech,” said he, withdrawing the leather-bound edition of Twelfth Night.
“My book!” she gasped.
“Forgive me, but I’ve only just now been able to return it to your keep.”
“Wyeth does hover over me like a mother hen, does he not?”
“It is his duty, my lady.”
She shrugged, then asked, “How ever did you come by it?”
“Clara brought it with her things when she came to the Landing. I feel quite sure she removed that and several other items from your chamber after – well –”
“Yes, she must’ve done so, and how very clever of her! I don’t believe I mentioned its existence to another soul, except for Emily, of course, though Ferguson is the one who placed it in my hands.”
“Knowing you gone from Tenbury, perhaps he asked she search the book out.”
“Perhaps he did – only, might I ask – whether you – thought to look inside?”
“Not of my own volition. It fell from my desk, and well, I did get a glimpse of what lay hidden.”
“Oh,” breathed she, coloring, “so, now you know how I have loved you and cleaved to that which was a part of you –”
“Care –”
“I don’t suppose you know how it came into my possession?”
“You needn’t explain.”
“But I must – for, you see, MacGregor gave it to me as a sort of birthday gift.”
When he grimaced, she continued, “I only kept it as I thought ’twould fetch enough coin to post a letter home. I felt certain the apothecary would purchase it without question, as he was always so very kind, but when I went to have speech with him, he was away.”
“I’m not angry in the least as it is the very reason, I undertook this journey.”
“Is it?”
“I well know the danger those remembrances posed to you, and the risk you took in keeping them was a most compelling argument for my doing the same.”
“Indeed? Only, you must know that I would not have parted with your letter or the pressed flowers for anything. Those mere treasures gave me hope when there seemed none.”
“My little dove, you are my hope and my treasure, and I think myself happy that the billet-deux gave you something to cleave to,” said he, gazing into eyes that mirrored his own, then brushing her lips with his own, he tenderly took her into his arms, and sneaking in a quick embrace, quickly took his leave of her.
“Mrs. Lockwood,” asked she, “what scent, I wonder, was added to this bath?”
“I’ll ask the maidservant whence she comes after the tub.”
Afterward, having pulled on a dressing gown over a silk shift, Lady Caroline sat aside the cozy fire as her nurse dragged a brush through her hair, while Jones and Wyeth, themselves freshly bathed, shaved, and fed, huddled in his lordship’s corner suite.
“I cannot like it!” raged his lordship.
“Neither can I,” agreed Captain Jones, rising from his chair, and using a dirk, made a slim gap in the drapes of a south-facing window, “Two lookouts are stationed in the recess of the building one door down, so by my count –”
“That makes twelve –”
“Twelve we can see in this devilish fog,” said Jones crossing to peer out a slice in the front drapes, “Ah, thirteen....
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 7.4.2025 |
|---|---|
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen |
| ISBN-13 | 979-8-3509-9130-7 / 9798350991307 |
| Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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