Damsel In Distress?

A chance meeting that could scandalise the ton!

19th century England

Harriet has travelled back in time on a secret mission and all is going smoothly until she ends up running for her life, being chased by three men on horseback through Hyde Park. When she is knocked unconscious, everything goes black…

Philip, Baron Eaglestone, has never seen such a beautiful damsel in distress. And he’s even more intrigued when she opens her eyes and begins to speak. Because this irresistible woman can only remember her first name, and has no knowledge as to who was trying to kill her…or where she is!

As Philip cares for Harriet, their attraction burns…and neither can shake the feeling that their chance meeting was truly a moment out of time. But if her memory returns, Harriet will be faced with a question: will she return home or could it be that family is where her heart is – with a Regency rake!

Damsel in Distress?

Kristina O’Grady

www.CarinaUK.com

KRISTINA O’GRADY

has always loved telling a good story. She took up writing at a young age and spent many hours (when she should have been doing her math homework) writing romance stories in a book she hid in her sock drawer. She still remembers the first romance book she ever read. She was without anything to read (oh no) while on vacation with her family and bought a book in the small shop in the hotel lobby. It involved an Earl, a horse and, of course, a Lady with a very bad fever. Since then she has been hooked on the Regency era.

Kristina grew up on a cattle ranch in Western Canada and although has been told many times she should be writing about cowboys, she can’t seem to leave the fantasy of Dukes and Earls alone. She worked in the Oil and Gas Industry for several years first as a labourer, machine operator, crew foreman, technician and eventually as an environmental consultant. She loves getting out in the fresh air and enjoying the peace of nature. In mid-2000 Kristina met her own knight in shining armour/cowboy who swept her off her feet and across the world to New Zealand, where she now lives on a sheep and beef farm with her amazingly supportive husband, three gorgeous young kids, seven working dogs and one very needy cat.

There are so many people I wish to say thank you to. Thank you to my family and friends for the never-ending love and encouragement. It means the world to me, and makes this journey so much fun. A special thank you to my mom and my Aunt Jill, who were here when I needed them. To my fans, who have been begging me for the next book…here it is! And to my editor, without you Victoria, this book would not be what it is today.

Thank you all for your support.

To Mick, because I love you.

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Title Page

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Extract

Endpages

Copyright

Chapter 1

They were getting closer. Harriet raced through the dark. With her heart thumping in her chest she raced across the lane and under the arched entrance of Hyde Park. Horses’ hooves pounded the ground behind her. She leaned lower on her horse’s neck and swerved him to the left to duck in behind a row of trees. She would not let them capture her. She didn’t come to this time only to fail now, the King was counting on her to deliver the information she had safely tucked inside her corset.

The sun began to rise, casting pink shadows across the ground. Her horse was tiring and started to stumble, they had come so far. The foaming sweat on his neck flicked onto her face as she raced through the park. She was going to run out of places to hide once the sun came up. She urged him faster still when they broke from the trees and she dared a glance behind her. There was no one there. Relief flooded through her core and she momentarily loosened her death-grip on the reins.

A shot rang out through the cool morning air. Her horse screamed seconds before Harriet felt him stumble. She didn’t have time to brace herself as he went down. The ground rose up and connected with her face. The package hidden in her corset pressed itself into her ribs when she hit the ground and in the moment before everything went black Harriet wondered if her hiding place would be good enough.

Chapter 2

Philip Blade, Baron Eaglestone, regretted his moment of weakness last night when he paid a visit to his mistress, as soon as he had climbed into her bed. He had already bidden farewell to her for good last month. Veronica was a passionate lady and as such was hard to let go, even if she was a candidate for Bedlam. Tonight’s episode proved his theory correct. Next time he wouldn’t be swayed! He might also decide to stay off the drink…or at least off champagne as it tended to make him forget his resolve to stay clear of her. Yes, he’d stick to brandy from now on. That was a much better idea.

Philip bit back a silent groan. His head was pounding to high heaven. What had he done? The naked woman beside him warmed his bare chest. In fact she warmed his entire body. As he lay in her bed, he watched the gentle rise and fall of Veronica’s breath until he was absolutely sure she was in deep sleep. He gingerly slid his arm out from underneath her neck and crept out of the bed. He didn’t dare breathe in case he woke her.

His head didn’t help matters. The room swayed in and out of focus as he made his way around it collecting various items of his clothing. He pulled on his trousers, cursing fashion’s current love of the figure-hugging pantaloons as they were dastardly to get into in a hurry. He shoved his shirt over his head and thrust his arms through the sleeves. Every few seconds he chanced a peak at Veronica’s sleeping form. Once he’d shrugged into his coat, he went in search of his boots. They had to be somewhere! This was ridiculous, they couldn’t have just disappeared. He got down on his hands and knees and searched under the bed and the many flouncy chairs in the room. Nowhere.

Damn. He stood up. Where the hell had they gone? He looked about the room once more. Veronica favoured the floral side of decorating. There were roses everywhere. In fact the multitude of flowers springing from the wall coverings, the chairs, the cushions and the bedspread did nothing to abate the queasiness in his gut. Alcohol he consumed earlier that evening threatened to make a reappearance on Veronica’s beige carpet, the one object in the room that was not covered in the God-awful roses.

Breathing shallowly through his mouth to stop any regurgitation, Philip finally remembered what had happened to his boots. With one last glance at Veronica’s sleeping form he crept from the room and down her stairs, retrieving his boots along the way. How he had managed to get them off while climbing the stairs without breaking his neck, or dropping Veronica, was beyond him.

At last he stepped outside and closed the door softly behind him, thankful that he had managed to make a clean getaway. He cut through Hyde Park to make it home before his sister found him missing. She was liable to put a search party out for him. The last thing he needed was his friend, Lord Bingham, finding out he had gone back to Veronica. Not after last time. He still hadn’t heard the last of it, and he had no desire to add to his torment.

A thundering of hooves broke into his reflections. “Who in their right mind would be out riding at this hour?” he muttered to himself. “They’ll kill themselves running their horse at that speed in the dark.”

He climbed a small rise and stopped dead at the sight that greeted him. A lone rider was riding hell-bent-for-leather with three others chasing after him. The rider in the front skirted around a row of trees while the three others split up and circled around to the front. The lone rider didn’t stand a chance.

Philip’s blood ran cold when he saw one of the trio raise his arm. Philip called out a warning. But he was too late. A shot rang out and the horse fell. A woman’s scream startled him into action. They had just shot at a woman! She flew from the saddle and landed hard. She didn’t move. What the hell was going on?

He took off down the hill, running faster than he ever thought possible, his heart pounding in his chest. He cut through the garden, the smell of roses thick in the air, the scent practically choking him with their aroma. He doubted he would be able to smell roses again without reliving this moment.

The men approached the fallen horse and dismounted. There was something wrong about them. Something other than chasing down a woman in the middle of the night and shooting her horse, that is. There was something about the way they rode, something about the way they approached the fallen woman and her horse. Philip couldn’t put his finger on it as he ran faster across the manicured lawn.

One of the men bent down and patted the horse on the neck. The man’s soothing whisper carried clearly through the crisp night air. The horse’s whimpers settled at his calming words and it lay quietly before the man.

Another shot rang through the air and the horse gave one last jerk as the bullet entered its head.

Philip supposed that along with the bullet hole, the poor creature had broken its leg when it fell. If that was the case, there was nothing that could be done for it.

The man rose and walked slowly, calmly towards the fallen woman. This time he crouched close to her and whispered in her ear. Philip couldn’t hear his words but pushed himself harder when he saw the woman stir. The man ran his hands over her body, whether he was looking for something or obtaining some sick pleasure from the situation, was unclear in the half light. The man pressed the muzzle of his gun to the woman’s temple.

“Stop!” Philip panted. He didn’t think he could make it to her in time. “Stop!” he yelled louder when they didn’t hear him. With his heart in his throat, Philip shouted as loud as he possibly could across the remaining distance. He forced himself to run faster still towards them. He had no weapon, but he could not watch while they killed a defenceless person, and a woman at that.

The man crouching over the woman lifted his head at Philip’s shout. He very calmly rose and considered Philip as though he had all the time in the world, but then he drew back his foot and kicked the woman in the head. A sickening crack rang through the air. The man turned and remounted his horse and left. The other two men got back in their saddles, swung their horses around and followed him through the park just as the sun broke the surface of the horizon.

Chapter 3

Bile rose up Philip’s throat as he came within reach of the fallen woman. Was she even still alive? There’d been no movement since she had been kicked. Philip stumbled the last few steps, not able to run any further. Considering his bloodstream was full of liquor, he was amazed he’d made it this far. He crumpled to his hands and knees, gasping for breath as he took in her appearance.

She was lying on her side facing away from him. Her hat had fallen off and was a few feet away from her. She was wearing the latest fashion, but not a riding habit. The fact that it was a carriage dress did not escape his notice, even in his distress. What was she doing wearing an afternoon walking dress at this time of day? Her pelisse was dark in colour and didn’t catch the light of the rising sun. The bust was torn, as was one of the sleeves, showing the pale fabric of the dress underneath. It was high quality and well made. From his sister’s trips to the modiste, Philip knew how expensive such an ensemble was. This was no ill-bred woman, but a lady of quality. Questions as to who she was and where she had come from bombarded him.

Her black hair fell across her face. He gently brushed it aside and saw it was covered in blood. His breath stuck in his throat. Her face was a mess.

The one blue eye he could see was almost swollen shut, the skin around it turning black. Blood covered the lower half of her face and was still seeping out of her nose. There was a cut under her chin, but it was hard to tell with all the blood as to how deep it was. All of this was nothing compared to the large contusion emerging just under the hairline behind her ear. Blood oozed from her ear, trickled down her delicate throat, the red a vast contrast to the pale skin. A surge of protectiveness for this vulnerable stranger consumed him. His hands knotted into tight fists at the sight of what those men had done to her.

Philip wasn’t sure what to do. He ran his hand softly along her arm and whispered soothing words to her eerily still form. “It’s all right…I’m here now… You’re safe now, I’ve got you.” The words were meaningless, but nevertheless offered him comfort, even if she couldn’t hear them.

He needed to get her out of the park and to a doctor as fast as possible, but he didn’t want to leave her here all alone. What he wouldn’t give for a carriage at this moment.

A moan issued from her lips and all thoughts of transportation fled his mind. Relief flooded his system. He had been beginning to think she wouldn’t wake up. She turned her head and looked at him with her good eye. “Hello,” she said.

***

Harriet woke to a man looming over her. Her head was muddled and thoughts flew in every direction but she was unable to catch any of them. What did catch her was the intense blue of his eyes. She was sure they could almost see right through her. In that instant she didn’t wish to know anything other than his name.

***

“Hello,” he replied cautiously, not wanting to frighten her. “Could you tell me your name, miss?”

“Harriet. Why am I lying down? Who are you?” Her voice was husky and softly spoken. “Are you all right, you don’t look so good.”

“Exceptional; thank you for asking.” Philip paused, a smile touching his lips. “It’s you I’m worried about, my dear. Are you all right?”

A confused look crossed her face. She opened her lips to reply at the same time she tried to sit up, but the breath caught in her throat. The pain of her fall finally reached her consciousness. “What happened? Why am I here? Why am I so sore? Who are you?” The panic in her voice rose as she looked frantically around at their surroundings.

“It’s all right, my dear. You’re safe.” He spoke to her like he was comforting his mare whilst foaling.

His calming tone seemed to work. Her eye didn’t look so wild when she looked at him again.

She spoke slowly, pronouncing each word carefully, “Where am I? Who are you?”

He looked her directly in the eye, making sure she understood him. She was obviously frightened and he wanted to reassure her as much as he possibly could. “You are in Hyde Park, and I am Philip Blade, Baron Eaglestone, but you may call me Philip. I think after watching you almost get killed, we can do away with the formalities.”

“What do you mean, almost killed?”

“Don’t you remember?” She shook her head, “I suppose taking a fall like that will affect your memory. You do have quite a knot on your head.” He reached out towards the large lump but thought better of actually touching it, and let his hand drop. Philip wasn’t sure how much to tell her now. He assumed she would be the one telling him what was going on, but if she didn’t remember, he wasn’t sure he should alarm her by telling her three men had chased her down and tried to shoot her in cold blood.

“Um, well, I suppose we should try to sit you up.” He reached under her shoulders and gently drew her forwards. Her body was firm beneath her clothes. Philip marvelled at the way her muscles bunched under his arm as she prepared to sit. She was not some miss that just sat around receiving visitors and having cups of tea. “How’s your head?” he asked.

“Sore.” The smile she gave was tilted on one side and a small dimple showed briefly on her right cheek. Philip was momentarily struck with the glimpse of her beauty beneath the blood and bruises.

“Come on then, I believe we should have you seen by a doctor. Do you recall where you live, my dear? No. Well there’s nothing for it then. I’ll take you to my sister. She’ll take care of you until we can contact your family. What is your last name, my dear?”

The woman before him opened her mouth to reply, but no sound emerged from her lips, panic filled her eyes again.

He grabbed both of her hands and rubbed them gently to get her attention. “Not to worry,” he said once she looked at him. “I’m right here. You had a very nasty fall and you hit your head.” He wasn’t about to tell her a man kicked her in it as well. “I’m sure it’s normal to momentarily forget who you are with an injury such as this.” He hoped so, anyway.

“I’ll take you to my sister’s and send for a doctor from there. You have a nasty cut on your head which should be looked at and I’m sure there are other parts of your person that are tender as well, yes?”

The lady bit her lip and gave a small nod.

“It’s settled then. It’s just the two of us, so it’ll be slow going. I don’t think we should wait for the haut ton to arrive for their morning carriage rides, do you?” He could just imagine the gossip that would come from this if he was noticed with this poor woman. Next thing he would be to blame. As for being alone together, in the dark? The consequences of that was something not worth contemplating.

Her body swayed alarmingly once they managed to get her to her feet. His arm wrapped itself around her before he had even formed the thought to do so. He pulled her tight against his body to support her.

They didn’t make it very far before she needed to rest. She leaned her head upon his shoulder. They stood in silence, waiting for her to catch her breath. He was worried the men would return to finish her off and he wanted to get away from here as quickly as possible. Her breath warmed the skin exposed above his collar. She wouldn’t be able to walk another hundred yards let alone all the way to his sister’s house.

She looked at him just then and smiled. She straightened up and started walking. Her endurance amazed him, but after another two stops he decided to take matters into his own hands. Philip leaned over and caught her beneath the knees and with his arm clasped tightly about her shoulders, lifted her into his arms. He would carry her the rest of the way.

It took them ages but they managed to make it to the other side of Hyde Park, to the residence he shared with his sister. The sun was lighting the sky by the time they made it up the steps. The relief he felt when the door was opened by his sister’s butler Charles, dressed immaculately in his blue coat, white breeches, stockings and powdered wig, despite the early hour, and at not being seen by anyone, was unsurpassed. The surprise on the butler’s face was also unmatched by anything he had seen cross his expression before and, if it hadn’t been for the lady he was supporting in his arms, he would have laughed outright.

“Don’t just stand there, Charles, shut the door, we don’t want the whole neighbourhood to be privy to our goings-on, now do we?”

“Very well, sir.” Charles hastily closed his gaping mouth before closing the front door. “How can I be of assistance, my lord?”

“Please inform your mistress she is needed in the drawing room.” Philip moved to the entrance of the room and just before he shut the door added, “And Charles, send for a doctor as well.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Chapter 4

Mrs Hillary Barrett wasn’t usually up at this hour, but cook had been experimenting with spice from the Middle East this week and it wasn’t agreeing with her stomach. Last week she experimented with Chinese. Needless to say, Mrs Barrett found herself not only awake, but sitting in her front parlour with a cup of tea to calm her stomach just as the sun was creeping across the houses to greet the day. And since she had nothing to occupy her except her needlework, which she never enjoyed doing anyway, she found herself gazing out the window. And it was with this gazing, that she found herself privy to one of the juiciest gossip tidbits of the season.

Lord Eaglestone strolled down the street, which admittedly, if Mrs Barrett was regularly up at this hour, she would know was not a thing to remark upon, but it was the fact he was carrying a lady that was most notable.

The woman he carried was bedraggled in appearance but, although her clothes were askew, there was no mistaking that she was a lady of quality.

Mrs Barrett herself assumed the lady must have come to some harm and she was rising from her seat to offer assistance when Lord Eaglestone dropped a kiss on the top of the lady’s head before he mounted the steps of his sister’s home.

A gasp tore from her lips. That woman was not in need of help except from a priest. Mrs Barrett understood at once the meaning of her bedraggled appearance. The woman had come to no harm, at least not physically; morally yes, but it was obvious if Lord Eaglestone was kissing her with such reverence, the woman in question was no lady.

“What are you looking at now, dear wife?” Mrs Hillary Barrett’s fingers twitched the curtains of her parlour closed before she turned to her husband of twenty years. He knew her too well for her to pretend she was bird watching. Although in a way, she was. He stood in the doorway fully clothed and ready for the day. He was always up this early, although she never understood why.

“Lord Eaglestone is at it again! This time he’s bringing one of his paramours into his sister’s house! I for one refuse to put up with such blatant disregard to proper behaviour. First thing this afternoon, I will call on Lady Cressanda to offer her my support in this time of what is surely a trial. Imagine, having that woman in your house. Being flaunted right in front of your nose. Shocking, that’s what it is.” Hillary paused a moment and when her husband refrained from commenting, she turned in his direction. He had sat down in his favourite chair and picked up a newspaper. A paper! When she was in the middle of telling him something very important, “Albert, are you listening to me?”

“Yes, dear.” His eyes didn’t leave the newspaper but he raised his eyebrows and Hillary was once again assured of his attention.

“I must go and tell cook to prepare some nice biscuits I can take as an offering.” Hillary bustled out the door, not seeing her husband roll his eyes before returning to his paper.