With a Kiss, Chapter One: Sabrina’s Hero

Manchester, England, May 1819

Chapter 1

 

Manchester, England, May 1819

 

In the doorway of the lending library, Sabrina Radcliffe paused to inhale the sweet tang of literary tomes. Their vanilla-like scent never failed to fill her with excitement bordering on giddiness as she anticipated reading magical tales of adventure and love inscribed on many a novel’s hallowed pages. She let out a contented sigh.

The only thing better than a good novel was a real-life adventure—at least, so Sabrina presumed. Having never had a true adventure, she could only imagine. If she ever got to Italy and Greece, birthplaces of many epic quests and adventures, she would discover that in truth.

Stepping inside, Sabrina adjusted her reticule where a comfortable handful of coins nestled inside her handkerchief. The money from selling her latest tatted lace brought her one step closer to her dreams of travel and excitement, and to fulfilling her promise to her brother.

Behind Sabrina, her younger sister sucked in a breath. “Oh, he is here,” Adriana whispered. “It’s driving me to distraction not knowing who he is.”

Sure enough, their mystery man sat in his usual spot—at a table near the windows facing the door. Sunlight slanted in through the windows and illuminated his dark hair. The handsome gentleman she and her sister had began calling Lord Mystère remained intensively focused on his reading.

In all her sixteen years, Sabrina had never been so fascinated with a man. With one last wistful glance at him, she linked her arm through Adriana’s and tugged her to the bookshelves to resume her search for new novels to guide her in her own writing. After all, in order to write a novel that would sell thousands of copies, one must read such novels.

Ah, there it was. Frankenstein. No author’s name appeared in the title page, but rumor had it that it had been penned by a lady. If a lady authored this famed novel, perhaps Sabrina could write one of her own. Sabrina also selected a book her father suggested would aid in her study of the Greek language. At the last minute, she also snatched a Minerva Press novel for pure reading pleasure.

Adriana gravitated to a table displaying the latest fashion magazines. With her books in her arms, Sabrina passed by Lord Mystère as she headed to her favorite table. It sat near enough that she could see the man who had occupied her thoughts for the past fortnight, but not so near that she would be obviously pursuing him.

For the first time ever, he glanced up as she passed. Their gazes locked. Her knees wobbled. A mere arm’s length away, Lord Mystère watched her with a focused stare. A combination of green and brown, his eyes spoke of forbidden danger, a promise of excitement. His enigmatic eyes made him all the more entrancing.

Sabrina managed to shut her mouth, incline her head politely, and move to a seat. Her cheeks burned and her hands shook as she fumbled to remove her bonnet and gloves and to smooth her hair. How silly to have gawked at him!

She bit her lip and stared at her books until her cheeks cooled. She turned her focus on her research. After retrieving the list she’d compiled of what must be present in a successful novel, she opened Frankenstein, prepared to glean from the anonymous author what had made her work so successful.

Adriana joined her a moment later, her arms laden with literary treasures and the newest copy of Ackman’s Repository fashion magazine. Younger than Sabrina by little more than a year, and newly “out” in time for the summer social activities, Adriana had already developed a good eye for tastefully fashionable clothing. A pity their family couldn’t afford to buy her a new wardrobe as befitting her change in status.

Sabrina glanced at Lord Mystère. Without taking his attention off the newspaper, he removed his gloves. Sabrina suppressed a sigh. If only he would look at her again.

Adriana nudged her and whispered, “Look! Where do you suppose he got that scar on his hand?”

True enough, a smooth, white scar ran along the side of his hand above his thumb. Sabrina’s mind filled with possibilities. “Perhaps he was wounded fighting off a hoard of Napoleon’s French ‘frogs’ during the war.”

“Or he might have been injured while on a spying mission for England.” Adriana opened her magazine and pretended to read it.

Sabrina tapped her pencil against her chin and whispered, “That might account for the way he pours over the publication. I have heard that spies sometimes send messages in code using innocent-looking articles. Of course, with the war over, England may not have as much need for spies; however, he might be one of a select few who keeps watch to protect king and country in the war’s aftermath.” The possibilities were endless and thrilling.

Lord Mystère shifted and frowned. Despite his tailcoat and expertly tied cravat, something about him suggested a dangerous, almost wild side. Perhaps it was his dark curls a tad longer and more unruly than the fashionable Bedford crop. Or that mysterious expression.

“A pirate,” Adriana mused. “He might have been scarred boarding a merchant ship. What if he is posing as a gentleman to watch for news of a ship to pillage and plunder?” She emoved her bonnet and smoothed her cinnamon-colored hair just a shade lighter than Sabrina’s.

Though Lord Mystère would make a dashing pirate, Sabrina shook her head. “If he spent that much time on a ship, he would be more suntanned. I still think it’s more likely he is highwayman who holds up coaches, demanding valuables from wealthy gentlemen and kisses from fair maidens.”

She smiled. If she were the swooning type, which she wasn’t, Sabrina could swoon just thinking about such a savagely handsome pirate or highwayman dragging her into his arms and kissing her senseless. Oh my. She fanned herself.

“What if he is a spy for another country?” Adriana whispered.

Sabrina caught herself chewing on the end of her pencil and nodded pensively. “He could be French or Italian. He doesn’t look entirely English—certainly not like all the other English gentlemen we’ve met. Of course, we haven’t met that many outside the Manchester area.”

What if Sabrina alone discovered his evil plot? Of course, a man that handsome could not be truly evil, but he might be some kind of rogue. How exciting!

Adriana tilted her head and whispered, “What is he reading?”

Sabrina deciphered the print from upside down. “It appears to be the political column.”

Adriana made a face and shook her head, sending her curls bouncing. “Politics? How dull.”

Sabrina rushed to defend both the handsome gentleman and their father. “His interest in politics doesn’t mean he is dull. Dear Papa is one of the best men of my acquaintance.”

“True,” Adriana said.

To add a bit of spice, Sabrina added, “Perhaps he is searching for news of his exploits, or something that would help him on his case…”

Adriana brightened. “Of course.”

He glanced up and caught them looking at him. A faint smile tugged at his mouth, and he raised one brow. Sabrina blushed and dropped her gaze to her book. Oh, the humiliation! He’d caught her staring twice. She bent her head over her new book.

A moment later, Adriana leaned over and read, “Frankenstein? Is that the terrifying novel Lady Hennessy mentioned?”

“Yes, and they say a lady wrote it—one of Lord Byron’s friends. Perhaps if I can learn her writing secrets, I will know how better to craft my own novel.”

Adriana cocked her head to the side. “I am still not clear why you want to write—and worse, publish—a book?”

Sabrina fingered the edges of the novel on top of her stack. “It could help fund my trip to Italy and Greece.”

“But you are already saving your pin money and selling the tatted lace you make. Why a novel?”

“I thought it would be enjoyable to write one. And I only have half the money I’ll need, and I want to go by next summer. Marcus and I always planned to go before my eighteenth birthday.” She choked. Some days, thoughts of her brother lapped at her toes like waters in a pond, turning every pebble of memory into a bright treasure. Other days, grief ravaged her like a tidal wave, devastating everything in its path.

Sabrina put her hand over her mouth and snatched at her composure. After a moment, she said, “At this rate, it will be years before I have enough money to go.”

She opened the pages of her newest novel, analyzing as she read and making additions to her notes of what seemed to make a successful novel in today’s literary world.

Adriana studied her fashion engravings. She sighed. “This one is lovely. I wish so much that I could have a new gown, even once.”

Sabrina pulled her attention from the novel, already dark and disturbing, and glanced at the page her sister admired. “It is pretty. But you know, these engravings are for the very rich—particularly for those who attend a Season in London. No one in Manchester cares if you have a gown like that.”

“I care,” Adriana muttered.

Putting an arm around her sister, Sabrina leaned in. “I don’t mean to be insensitive. You are so fair that no one notices your gowns are made over. Truly, every head turns when you enter a room.”

Adriana shot her a grateful look and resumed her study of the fashion magazine, her wistful expression adding to her fresh beauty.

Unable to help herself, Sabrina glanced at the handsome, enigmatic man reading nearby who always seemed to draw her gaze.

“Hmmm,” he murmured.

A second gentleman joined him. Under his breath, in what must surely be a coded message, the other man said, “Did you hear about the gathering?”

Lord Mystère nodded. “At St. Peter’s Field.”

“There is sure to be trouble.”

“No doubt.”

They lowered their voices further, and though Sabrina shamelessly strained her ears, no further words reached her.

The two gentlemen stood. Lord Mystère paused, and Sabrina snuck a glance in his direction. He looked up just then, meeting her gaze for yet a third time, and again a jolt went through her. Dumbstruck, she gaped. So serious, so intense, he wrapped another fascinating layer around her interest. He inclined his head in an abbreviated bow and turned away.

As he and his…associate? Cohort? Partner? Whoever he was, he and Lord Mystère left together, and Sabrina almost collapsed into her pile of books.

“Ohhhhh,” Adriana gasped. “He looked at you, really looked.” She clasped her hands together. “I would have fainted dead away.”

Sabrina lifted her chin. “I refuse to be so lily-livered.” Then reliving the experience, she sank against her seats. “I do admit, it nearly did me in.”

“What did they say about the park?” Adriana’s eyes glittered.

Sabrina chewed on her lower lip as she contemplated the possibilities. “Something dangerous is going to happen. I wonder what?”

“Should we tell Papa? Or the magistrate?”

Sabrina shook her head. “No, we don’t know what it is. Besides, after what happened at the seashore last summer, Papa might not believe us.”

“I fear you are right. But how were we to know someone would be fishing in such ghastly weather? It looked decidedly suspicious.”

“Still, we will need more proof this time.” Sabrina’s gaze strayed to the elderly man at the counter who took people’s names and subscriptions. “I wonder if the counter clerk would know what Lord Mystère’s real name is, or anything about him?”

“That is a grand idea. Why didn’t we think of that sooner?”

Sabrina smiled. “Probably because it was too much fun speculating about him.”

Adriana giggled sheepishly.

Oh, but he had looked at her—thrice! With a happy sigh, Sabrina gathered up her books and magazines and placed them in her bag. “Let’s go ask about him, and then we ought to return to the milliner, lest Mama comes searching for us.”

Laden with her books, Sabrina went to the counter. Adriana returned the magazines and joined her. The counter clerk, an older man whose movements were as slow as his mind was sharp, recorded their names and book selections.

Sabrina affected a casual air as she addressed him. “Pardon me, but can you tell me the name of the gentleman who always sits at that back table when he comes in?”

The clerk paused, his bright black eyes flicked to her and then to the table she indicated. In a bored tone, he replied, “Oh, that’s Mr. Beauchamp.”

Mr. Beauchamp. A delightful name. Did he hail from the Rockford Beauchamps? Or the Bellingham Beauchamps? It might be another family she did not remember from her study of Debrett’s book of peerage. Although, if he were a spy or notorious criminal, he probably used an assumed name. He could be French.

“Do you know anything about Mr. Beauchamp?” she asked.

“Hmm.” The clerk drew together his bushy gray brows, not in concentration but annoyance, probably due to her impertinent question. “Barrister or solicitor or something to do with law, I believe.” He held out her stack of books. “I assume you’ll have these all back next week, Miss Radcliffe?”

“Don’t I always?” She grinned.

“Hmph. See that you do.” He processed Adriana’s selection and turned to dust a row of books behind him.

With her sister next to her, Sabrina stepped out of the library and blinked in the bright sunshine. As she and Adriana strolled back to the milliner, carriages clattered by and pedestrians bustled past, yet she hardly gave them any notice. Mr. Beauchamp. Who was he? And why did he capture her interest in such a profoundly compelling way? She switched her bag of books to the other hand. Perhaps she need not go to Greece or Italy alone. If this Mr. Beauchamp were a well-traveled adventurer, he might take her with him…as his bride. They could explore together. She would be seventeen in a few months—the same age as Mama when she married Papa.

A child wearing a white, lacy dress toddled his way along the edge of the road. Based on the simple cut of the dress, the child must be a boy. Chasing a butterfly and oblivious to the dangers nearby, he giggled and reached for the winged creature. Cute little shoes peeped out from underneath the hem of the frock, still clean and new. No adult charged with his care appeared to be nearby. The butterfly flitted up high and over a nearby shop. The boy stopped and watched the colorful insect vanish over the rooftop. Then, as if realizing how far he had strayed, the toddler darted frightened looks around him. As his face crumpled in distress, Sabrina rushed to him and crouched down in front of him.

“There now, little one. All is well. I’ll help you find your Mama.” She held out a hand to him.

He studied her hand, then her face. She held her breath. He might be afraid of her and start to howl. Instead, he slipped his chubby little hand into hers.

“I wonder where his mama is.” Adriana looked up and down the street.

Sabrina guided the child closer to the storefront and out of harm’s way. “Surely someone will miss him soon. He is clean and well-fed, so he isn’t an urchin.”

They stood together, the child sheltered between them, as they scanned the area.

“Willie! Willie!” came a panicked voice. A young lady wearing an indigo gown dashed around the corner.

Sabrina waved her hand. “Are you looking for a little boy?”

“Oh!” The lady about Sabrina’s age ran to them and scooped up the child. “Willie, you frightened me!” Closing her eyes, she pressed the child to her. Judging from her stylish gown, the cameo around her neck, and the elegant chignon at the nape of her neck, she must be the boy’s mother rather than his nurse. She wore no bonnet nor pelisse; she must have raced outside with great haste—probably the moment she noticed her son was missing. After taking a few calming breaths, the lady looked at Sabrina through violet-blue eyes.

“How can I ever thank you?” Emotion shook her voice.

The boy wriggled in her arms, and the lady loosened her grip enough that he could twist his little body around to look at Sabrina and Adriana.

“No need,” Sabrina said. “I’m happy we were here to help. He was chasing a butterfly. I’m sure he didn’t mean to stray far.”

“We were in the shoemaker’s shop just around the corner, buying him his first pair of shoes.” The young mother put a hand underneath one of his small feet and held it up. “I only turned my back a moment, but he’s so fast.”

“I’m glad he’s safe with you again,” Sabrina said.

“Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Mrs. William Ansel. I am indebted to you both, Misses…?”

“Radcliffe. I’m Sabrina and this is my younger sister, Adriana.”

“Thank you both again, Miss Radcliffe, Miss Adriana. Do call on me so I may thank you properly. I am new in town and would dearly love to make some acquaintances.” She fumbled with the strings of her reticule and produced a calling card. “And now, if you’ll forgive me, I ought to return to the shoemaker and pay for these darling little shoes.” She flashed a quick smile.

After bidding Mrs. Ansel a good day, Sabrina and Adriana returned to the milliner where they had left Mama.

Inside the shop, Mama hefted her hat box and pulled on her gloves. She smiled at their approach. “Find some new books, dears?”

Sabrina nodded and held up proof. “Several, in fact.”

“Lovely. Now we must hurry home in time to change. The Marchioness of Hennessy and her cousin are expecting us soon.”

Sabrina groaned. “Mama, the last relative of one of your friends was a milk-faced booby.”

Mama sighed. “He did not match her description of him, ’tis true.” She ushered them outside as their carriage pulled up in front of the shop. “Perhaps today will be different. You needn’t agree to let him court you. Be polite—that is all I ask.”

They headed toward the carriage where the footman and driver awaited.

Sabrina sighed. “A pity none of your friends have highwaymen or pirates for relatives—they’d be so much more interesting than those ‘respectable gentlemen’ we meet.”

Mama’s mouth curved. “I daresay none of those types of men in reality are anything like the romantic heroes of your novels. Look for a steady, loyal gentleman of good character, my dears. There are many everyday heroes; if we look closely, and with our hearts, we will see them.”

But Sabrina didn’t want an everyday hero. She longed for a true hero, or a charming rogue—someone intense and dashing and dangerous. If she could never have her own adventures, and must instead live out her life as a wife and mother—after taking her trip to Italy and Greece, of course—she refused to be ordinary. Perhaps she could find a husband who shared her quest for adventure and excitement. Someone like…Lord Mystère.

 

To find out what happens next, please order your own copy of Sabrina’s Hero in WITH A KISS, an anthology of ten novellas by ten best-selling authors here, which includes this novella, Sabrina’s Hero. 100% of the proceeds benefit Rob Wells to help pay for his staggering family medical expenses.

Here is the link to order your copy of the complete collection, which will only be available for a limited time.