Conduct Unbecoming of a Gentleman

CONDUCT UNBECOMING OF A GENTLEMAN

WAREEZE WOODSON

SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

New York

CONDUCT UNBECOMING OF A GENTLEMAN

Copyright©2013

WAREEZE WOODSON

Cover Design by Ramona Lockwood

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN-13: 978-1-61935-
224-7

www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

To my husband, Harold,

for standing beside me all through the years.

I would also like to add my thanks

to my wonderful critique partners, Linda and Carol.

Without their help

I would never have made it this far.

Thanks for your encouragement

and the lessons learned from both of you.

Acknowledgements

Thanks  to  my  tech support team for walking me through troubled spots. Many thanks to the RWA chapters to which I belong. All the help extended and the opportunities to learn brought about this book.

Chapter 1

Freedom. Freedom. Freedom
. Each rotation of the hired coach’s wheels whispered the word. Laurel cradled her sleeping two-year-old son, the new Lord Laningham, as a heady sense of satisfaction curved her lips. She didn’t even mind the slight musty odor pervading the vehicle, although she leaned over and raised the window cover for a breath of fresh air. With a sigh she settled back against the seat. At least for a while, Rhonda’s constant complaints would no longer ring in her ears and for that she was devoutly thankful.

Out of nowhere, a rider flashed by the coach window and her startled gaze locked with his brief glance. Although she’d caught only a glimpse of the stranger, in that instant his intense, deep-brown eyes mocked her and unease shivered down her spine. She stared after him for a second before instinctively gathering her child closer. Laurel planted a kiss on his blonde curls, drawing reassurance from the nearness of his warm little body. As long as she had Jamie nothing else mattered. Her son must remain safe.

Everything happened at once. The coach lunged to the right and scraped against the bushes beside the road, sending a shower of droplets splashing inside the window. Her book and Jamie’s wooden horse thumped to the floor. The racket of brakes screeching shrilled in her ears as the vehicle rattled and lurched out of control.

“Jamie,” she cried.

The horses’ screams echoed through her head and the sudden jerk of the coach as the team broke away from the trace chains added to her fear. When the doomed coach started to roll onto its side, she braced her feet against the opposite bench and clutched her son tightly against her chest. Tumbling against the seat, she scraped her elbows and banged her head. The sensation of falling forever tensed every muscle in her body before the force of the impact threatened to tear Jamie from her arms. She landed between the banquettes against the door, her howling child clutched in her arms. The carriage lantern, suspended from a hook on the wall, swayed overhead scraping metal against metal and briefly caught her attention.

Laurel struggled to a sitting position, gulped a deep breath and wiped dirt from Jamie’s face. With her heart in her throat, she examined a tiny trickle of blood at his hairline. Thankful his injury appeared minor she clutched him to her bosom and kissed his cheek, comforting his cries as her pulse slowed to normal.

The accident left her shaken. Frightened, she felt more alone than ever. If only Robert were still alive. She stifled that thought immediately—nothing could be accomplished by wishing for the impossible.

Laurel drew a shaky breath and tilted her head back in order to peer at the window above. Panic overwhelmed her and her breath came in short gasps. The banquettes seemed to close in on her. She fought to escape her trapped position in the overturned coach. Holding Jamie with one arm, she grasped the seat with her other hand and struggled to her feet. Her head whirled for a second before settling back into a deep pounding pain, while her knee and elbow throbbed in rhythm.

Ignoring her discomfort, she glanced around. As she studied the problem, she heard the murmur of voices and listened intently. With a sigh of relief, she recognized the driver’s voice however the other deep tone was unfamiliar.

“Help me,” She cried, “I’m in here.”

Only silence echoed back and the sound of voices moved off. For a second, panic clenched her stomach and her head pounded even harder.

“Stay calm,” she whispered, and the words spoken aloud steadied her. She listened for several long minutes before someone climbed atop the overturned coach. The door was yanked open with considerable force and she breathed a sigh of relief. Gray clouds added gloom to the inside of the carriage and a dark figure blocked out what little light was available. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but his broad shoulders and the arrogant slant of his head were a shadowy outline against the stormy sky.

His voice floated down to her. “Are you or the child injured?”

“I think several scrapes and bruises at most.” Laurel trembled and brushed her bonnet out of her face. She heard his quick intake of breath.

“You’re positive? You must have taken quite a tumble when the coach overturned. Possibly you’re more injured than you know.”

“Only a little shaken.” She took a deep, calming breath then continued with more force. “I’m certain we’re both fine.”

He hesitated and exhaled deeply. “A damsel in distress then. Do you perhaps have a name?”

Authority rang in his voice. She clutched Jamie a little tighter and offered him a tremulous smile. “Laurel Jane Laningham. Thank you for coming to our rescue.” She shaded her eyes with one hand, waiting for him to return the introduction.

“Let’s get you out of there. Hand me the boy first.”

He reached down into the overturned coach and Laurel lifted Jamie above her head into the waiting arms of the stranger. Her rescuer leapt to the ground with her son. A chill of foreboding curled around her.
He’d said
the boy
. An unknown man shouldn’t know the child was a male. With every one of her senses alert, she listened intently for the stranger to return. Saddle leather squeaked and the thunder of hooves struck the ground in retreat.

Laurel screamed, “Bring my son back. I’ll see you hanged for this, you blackguard. Come back here. Help. Driver, help me.”

Frantic with the need to rescue her child, she attempted to climb the banquette, clawing her way to the opening above her. She barely reached the rim of the door when her fingers slipped and she fell back to the window against the ground.

She slammed her fist against the banquette in frustration, ignoring the pain on her bloodied fingertips and glanced around. Noticing a couple of warming stones lodged under the seat, she quickly stacked them on the ground beneath her. Her fingers found a tighter grip as she struggled to heave herself out of the opening at the top of the coach. Light-headed with relief to finally be out of the crippled vehicle, she found a foothold and climbed to the ground.

Laurel was stunned almost beyond clear thought as she gazed about, hoping the stranger would miraculously reappear with her son, but there was no sign of either. Terrified for her child and frustrated to the point of tears, she couldn’t prevent the drops that gathered and rolled down her cheeks. Her body trembled with shock as she stood staring, trying to think what to do next.

She detected the plod of hooves approaching and spun around. The driver of the hired coach had two of the runaway carriage horses by the reins.

“Miss, you all right,” he called as he grew closer. “When the wheel hit a deep washout, the coach started to dump over and spooked the horses. After that t’was no saving it.”

“Never mind that. A stranger stole my son,” she cried, tears once again flowed down her face.

“You wouldn’t hoax me?” he stammered and his jaw went slack. “Weren’t no stranger what was by here. Lord Adron, hisself it was.” The coachman shook his head.

Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. “Are you saying that man was Lord Gladrey?”

The driver bobbed his head. “Normal he ain’t one as runs a cork-brained lark on a body. Claimin as how the child was his ward, he was obliged to help you out whilst I fetched the team. His lordship never said nothing bout making off with the boy. But he did say as how I was to see you safe back to your own place, proper. Paid me generous, too.” The coachman scratched his chin. “You hold tight whilst I ride back and bring a buggy.”

“I must ride one of the carriage horses and go after my son.” Her eyes flooded with tears but she elevated her chin. “I don’t intend to quietly return home without my son. I won’t.”

The coachman swallowed and shook his head doubtfully. “Ain’t no saddle for the horses. Being a lady and all. You’d best wait here. Shouldn’t take too long. No reason to be putting yourself out.”

Her chin quivered for a brief moment before she managed to school her features. “I won’t wait. I’ll walk if necessary.”

“Stubborn like, you gonna chase after his lordship regardless? Don’t seem wise.” The driver inspected her from beneath bushy brows. With a deep sigh, he readied the horses before climbing up on the over-turned coach. A worried frown creased his brow and his eyes were warm with sympathy. “You’ll be needing your cloak and such.”

She shivered and tried to clear her mind. There was no sense in leaving half-cocked. “How kind of you to think of that. I’d be ever so grateful if you’d fetch it for me.”

He handed down her cloak and jumped to the ground. “You need this too,” he continued and handed off her reticule. “What you want done with your trunk?”

Her hand automatically reached for the delicate chain around her throat and she fingered the key beneath her gown. She’d forgotten about her trunk and the carved box tucked inside. Laurel hesitated, wishing she could ignore everything except the pursuit of her son. She brushed her hair off her brow and focused on the problem. Fishing several coins and a card from her reticule she handed the articles to the coachman. “Will you please see that my trunk is delivered to Mrs. Collinsworth? The information is on the card.”

The driver nodded and reached for the items.

Needing to be after her son, she gifted him with a disarming smile. “I’ll be ever so grateful.”

“Best be off if you’re going.” He gave her a leg up on one of the carriage horses.

With a wave, she kicked the animal into motion, hoping that Lord Gladrey wasn’t too far ahead. She peered down the road, but found no sign of the pair as a sudden drizzle obscured her view. The rain added to her misery and complicated her race to overtake the earl and her son. Desperate with fear, she forced herself to calm down and think rationally. Her impulsive actions had already met with disaster.

Her son had been abducted. If she could claim such a thing since Robert’s cousin, James Adron Gladrey, the Earl of Kendlewood was Jamie’s new guardian. Legally he held all the power. Her fist clenched and helpless frustration churned her stomach. She’d wrongly assumed she would meet with the earl to discuss her child’s welfare, but when word arrived he was back in England to take charge of his ward, she panicked.

Although Aunt Betsy could do nothing about the unfair law that granted control of her child to Robert’s cousin, Laurel still sought her council. Aunt Betsy had a way of pointing out the destructive nature of negative emotions and that was exactly what Laurel needed to deal with her hatred of the earl’s power. Moisture gathered in her eyes. Blinded by tears, clutching the horse’s mane to remain mounted, her skirts already heavy with splashed mud and with rain streaming down her face, Laurel rode in Lord Gladrey’s wake. Her distress descended into shuddering sobs.

Grief took its toll and she cried until her tears were undistinguishable from the spiking rain. She slumped on the back of the horse and wiped at her face. Her spirits sank in tandem with the overcast sky and concern for Jamie clutched at her. She only hoped Lord Gladrey would keep her son protected from the weather.

Straightening her spine, she squared her shoulders and rode onward. Although she trembled inside, now was the time to be strong. She would never give up, not as long as there was a single breath in her body.

No matter that Lord Gladrey had become little Jamie’s guardian upon her husband’s death—she would prevail. She promised herself if he continued to act in this reckless fashion, the entirety of polite society would hear of his cruel attempt to separate a helpless widow from her child. Her lips twitched at that description, but when her son was threatened, her backbone became rigid as steel. She vowed if he thought he could keep her son from her, he would soon learn his mistake.

James Adron Gladrey, Earl of Kendlewood rode off at a furious pace, the young boy in his arms. He cursed himself anew and gritted his teeth. The driver said the wheel hit a deep washout and started to tip but if he hadn’t chased the coach, perhaps the horses wouldn’t have bolted when the vehicle began to sway. Adron would never have forgiven himself if either his ward or the widow had been killed or crippled, but thankfully both mother and child were fine. Relaxing for the first time that day, he took a deep breath. The incident had ended well, better than he’d expected when his cousin, Rhonda, alerted him to the widow’s intention to flee with his ward.

The child’s sobs pulled his attention away from his thoughts. He wrapped the boy more securely in his cloak to protect him from the elements and attempted to sooth his frantic cries.

“Hush now. You’re safe with me,” he said in a steady tone.

Jamie calmed to a whimper. Adron’s stomach churned and he glanced over his shoulder. Torn between his actions and concern for the widow, he gritted his teeth and rode forward. He wouldn’t fail Robert again—not as he had in battle. Jamie was his to protect now and he would do so in spite his sympathy for the heartless widow. If she followed her son, he’d reconsider his opinion, but he judged that to be highly unlikely.

He urged his horse to a faster clip and his mount stepped out slinging mud from his hooves. For his ward’s sake, Adron wanted to be out of the weather as soon as possible. The hazardous condition of the road and the constant need to deal with a frightened child tightened his nerves. Adron had never been more relieved to enter the warmth of his house, bringing the smell of the rain soaked earth with him. Occasionally, the boy still whimpered and snubbed against his shoulder. Adron pulled his cloak away from his ward and rubbed his back. “We’re home now.”

Adron’s grandmother, Heloise, entered the hall and moved forward. “What a lovely child.” She elevated her brows and questioned, “Where are the parents?”

Jamie lifted his head and stared at Heloise before his face crumpled with renewed sobs. Adron stroked the boy’s back in a calming motion, but before his actions could sooth the child, his twelve-year-old sister, Paige dashed into the hall.

“A baby. How adorable. May we keep it?” she babbled and put her face next to the child’s head.

To Adron’s amazement, Jamie stopped crying, raised his head and looked at Paige. Adron frowned. “He’s not a puppy to keep or give away. He’s my ward. Jamie Laningham.”