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    Fallibility, A Regency Romance
    Fallibility, A Regency Romance
    Fallibility, A Regency Romance
    Ebook279 pages4 hours

    Fallibility, A Regency Romance

    By Rob Shelsky

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    “Oh no, my dear, you must not!” Lady Penelope Albright exclaimed this as Faith leaned forward to look out of the carriage window. “Those men are positively indecent, virtually naked. Brown as savages, they are and the whole lot of them! You should not cast your eyes upon such things.”

    Actually, Lady Faith Heaton would have very much liked to do just that. The trip so far had been a boring and tedious affair. The sight of some nearly naked men would have been a bon divertissement, a good diversion, but her aunt’s out-flung arm barred her way. So, with a profound reluctance and a loud resentful sigh, Faith settled back into her leather-upholstered seat.

    However, she couldn’t help noticing that the sight did not seem to offend her aunt’s sensibilities overly much. That good woman continued to stare with an expression of avid curiosity. Lady Penelope Albright kept her beady eyes trained on the spectacle ahead.

    Suddenly, she leaned her head out of the open window. One hand clutched her black bonnet as she did so, for the wind always seemed to blow briskly in Devonshire, or so it seemed from Faith’s limited experience. She had never been to this area of England before now.

    “Driver!” the older woman shouted. “Stop by those men up there. We need directions. You are going the wrong way. I am sure of it!”
    She said all this in a loud voice, one so stentorian it made Faith wince. If anyone had the capability of using voice alone to shatter glass and without having to hit a high-pitched note to do it, it was Faith’s Aunt Penelope. Now seemingly satisfied, her aunt leaned back in her seat.

    The coach lurched to a stop amid a cloud of dust and loud snorts from the horses. Now, Lady Albright once more popped her head out of the window. She was again careful to hang onto her bonnet, lest that treacherous breeze snatch it from her and this despite the broad ribbon that bound the hat to her head.

    “You there!” she shouted in a deafening voice, although Faith still couldn’t see at whom she directed this lion-like roar.

    “One of you men--yes you! Come over here at once, this instant, I say!”

    Faith heard the distant murmur of deep male voices in conversation, the abrupt sound of barked laughter. Then there came a shouted response, one Faith didn’t quite catch. Realizing all this occupied her aunt’s full attention, and so she probably wouldn’t notice, Faith used the opportunity to try to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

    She leaned forward. Through a corner of the coach window, a small portion not blocked by her aunt’s head and outsized hat, Faith saw several men. They were dressed as common day-labourers. All of them stood some ways from the road, either holding their shovels in hand or leaning casually against them, using them as supporting props. A long, low pile of fresh-dug earth showed the results of their recent efforts.
    Two of the men had removed their shirts, stripped themselves to the waist. These then must be the “virtually naked” men to whom her Aunt Penelope had referred. Both men’s nude torsos gleamed with a sweaty sheen.
    Only the younger and taller of the two had a physique well worth noting, though. He was lean and well proportioned, slim hipped, for his breeches barely hung on them. In fact, they rode very low there, held on only by a wide leather belt. His upper arms were taut with corded muscles. From his narrow waist rose a tapered chest, which even now still heaved for breath, no doubt from the young man’s recent exertions.
    Faith guessed they must have worked long and on more than one occasion to achieve such bronzed skins. Her Aunt Penelope was right. They were “as brown as savages,” as dark as common field hands were.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRob Shelsky
    Release dateOct 30, 2010
    ISBN9781452355252
    Fallibility, A Regency Romance
    Author

    Rob Shelsky

    Rob Shelsky is an avid and eclectic writer, and averages about 4,000 words a day. He has several novels to his credit and two anthologies, with two romances out now, a Regency romance, Verity, along with the sequel, Faith, and soon to come, a time-travel romance.Rob has written science fiction articles for such magazines as The Internet Review of Science Fiction, numerous articles for AlienSkin Magazine, Neometropolis, Midnight Street (UK), Doorways, and other publications. Rob has had short stories published with Jim Baen’s Universe, Aberrant Dreams, AlienSkin, Gateway SF, Fifth Dimension, Continuum SF, Sonar4, Uncial Press, Planetary Stories, Pulp Spirit Magazine, Sex & Murder, and many more. He has a novella coming out in early 2010 with Aberrant Dreams Magazine’s first hardcover edition anthology, The Awakening. Rob’s novella, Avenger Of The People, will appear there alongside the works of such sci-fi greats as Alastair Reynolds, Ian Watson, Jana Oliver, Robert Madle, and just so many others. There is even an introduction by Jack McDevitt.Rob has a short story, Green Waters, now out with Sonar4’s Phase Shift anthology, and a paranormal story, Light On The Moor, coming out with Smashwords and Amazon.com.Now, Rob Shelsky is not only a writer, but a contributing editor for Currate.com travel articles, as well as being a reviewer for Novelspot. He is also a resident science fiction columnist for AlienSkin Magazine.Although widely traveled and continuing to travel, Rob now lives in North Carolina. He enjoys contemplating ideas for new stories while watching the sunsets over the mountains and sipping a glass of red wine, preferably a decent Merlot.Oh and check out this site for my Smashword books:Ebookswelove.com

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      Book preview

      Fallibility, A Regency Romance - Rob Shelsky

      * * * *

      FALLIBILITY

      A Regency Romance

      By

      R.R. Shelsky

      SMASHWORDS EDITION

      * * * * *

      PUBLISHED BY:

      R.R. Shelsky on Smashwords

      Smashwords ISBN: 978-1-4523-5525-2

      Fallibility

      A Regency Romance

      Copyright © 2010 by Rob Shelsky

      All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

      * * * * *

      There is one person I’d especially like to thank. I owe him so much. George Kempland, I wish to acknowledge you for your loyalty, dedication, mountains of help, and always just being there for me. Again, thank you, so very much.

      * * * * *

      FALLIBILITY

      * * * * *

      Chapter One

      Oh no, my dear, you must not! Lady Penelope Albright exclaimed this as Faith leaned forward to look out of the carriage window. Those men are positively indecent, virtually naked. Brown as savages, they are and the whole lot of them! You should not cast your eyes upon such things.

      Actually, Lady Faith Heaton would have very much liked to do just that. The trip so far had been a boring and tedious affair. The sight of some nearly naked men would have been a bon divertissement, a good diversion, but her aunt’s out-flung arm barred her way. So, with a profound reluctance and a loud resentful sigh, Faith settled back into her leather-upholstered seat. However, she couldn’t help noticing that the sight did not seem to offend her aunt’s sensibilities overly much. That good woman continued to stare with an expression of avid curiosity. Lady Penelope Albright kept her beady eyes trained on the spectacle ahead.

      Suddenly, she leaned her head out of the open window. One hand clutched her black bonnet as she did so, for the wind always seemed to blow briskly in Devonshire, or so it seemed from Faith’s limited experience. She had never been to this area of England before now.

      Driver! the older woman shouted. Stop by those men up there. We need directions. You are going the wrong way. I am sure of it!

      She said all this in a loud voice, one so stentorian it made Faith wince. If anyone had the capability of using voice alone to shatter glass and without having to hit a high-pitched note to do it, it was Faith’s Aunt Penelope. Now seemingly satisfied, her aunt leaned back in her seat.

      The coach lurched to a stop amid a cloud of dust and loud snorts from the horses. Now, Lady Albright once more popped her head out of the window. She was again careful to hang onto her bonnet, lest that treacherous breeze snatch it from her and this despite the broad ribbon that bound the hat to her head.

      You there! she shouted in a deafening voice, although Faith still couldn’t see at whom she directed this lion-like roar.

      One of you men--yes you! Come over here at once, this instant, I say!

      Faith heard the distant murmur of deep male voices in conversation, the abrupt sound of barked laughter. Then there came a shouted response, one Faith didn’t quite catch. Realizing all this occupied her aunt’s full attention, and so she probably wouldn’t notice, Faith used the opportunity to try to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

      She leaned forward. Through a corner of the coach window, a small portion not blocked by her aunt’s head and outsized hat, Faith saw several men. They were dressed as common day-labourers. All of them stood some ways from the road, either holding their shovels in hand or leaning casually against them, using them as supporting props. A long, low pile of fresh-dug earth showed the results of their recent efforts.

      Two of the men had removed their shirts, stripped themselves to the waist. These then must be the virtually naked men to whom her Aunt Penelope had referred. Both men’s nude torsos gleamed with a sweaty sheen.

      Only the younger and taller of the two had a physique well worth noting, though. He was lean and well proportioned, slim hipped, for his breeches barely hung on them. In fact, they rode very low there, held on only by a wide leather belt. His upper arms were taut with corded muscles. From his narrow waist rose a tapered chest, which even now still heaved for breath, no doubt from the young man’s recent exertions.

      Faith guessed they must have worked long and on more than one occasion to achieve such bronzed skins. Her Aunt Penelope was right. They were as brown as savages, as dark as common field hands were.

      As luck would have it, and after another brief consultation with his fellows, it was the good-looking one who dropped his shovel. He stomped across the uneven turf of the field, headed in their direction. He stopped by the edge of the road. Now the man stood within just a few feet of the coach.

      Good day, ma’am. May I be of service? His voice, possessed of a smooth timbre and with no hint of the local accent, seemed too cultured for a mere navvy. His sapphire-blue eyes showed only a polite concern.

      You may indeed, Lady Albright said in a curt tone of voice. We seem to have lost our way and--

      Not an uncommon thing in these parts with the roads what they are, the young man said. He smiled a pleasant smile, flashing whitest teeth. Then he brushed the back of one filthy hand across his sweaty brow, pushing back wayward curls of sun-bleached, brown hair that hung limp over his forehead there.

      Please to not interrupt, said Lady Albright, now sounding miffed. It is late. We are tired and so in haste. We are looking for Creighton Hall. Do you know of its whereabouts? Is it near here?

      He nodded. I know it well. It is back that way a bit, I am afraid, he said in a cultivated voice. Now he pointed in the direction from which they’d just come. You missed the last turn that would have led you to it. It is easy to do, though, if you are new around here. These roads can be tricky for the uninitiated.

      Indeed? Lady Albright said in a condescending voice, And you are such a long-time resident of this area then, are you? She gave him a significant glance up and down, clearly an assessment.

      Faith felt her aunt’s appraising gaze might have another and more hidden motivation. It could have been just an excuse to allow Lady Albright another opportunity to examine the man’s trim physique. Close up, Faith had to admit to herself that he was impressive, was well worth looking at, and admiring.

      His golden skin still glistened with perspiration. This gave his body a well-oiled, gleaming look. A vision of a Greek sculpture of two nude wrestlers leapt to her mind. She’d seen it on display at a museum in London. Carved of whitest marble, and highly polished, those figures had shone just as this man’s unclothed body did now. However, unlike those ancient men, made of even more ancient stone, this man was of living, breathing flesh. He was not composed of such insensitive and unresponsive marble.

      This fact, thoughtfully reflected Faith, made him much more interesting to her than those sculptures had been. And she had so very much liked those.

      I claim to be no expert, ma’am, he said and then smiled once more, before continuing. I am afraid I am rather new to this area myself.

      Lady Albright seemed to ignore this comment and said instead, You are sure of your directions? It is back that way, for certain?

      Indeed, it is. It-- and then he stopped in mid-sentence. He now looked past Lady Albright and directly at Faith, seemingly having just spotted her there, sitting in the background.

      Faith’s Aunt Penelope must have noticed his intense look, for her eyes narrowed, as if with a sudden insight, as she glanced from him to Faith, and then back again.

      That will do, Lady Albright primly told him, and whether she meant his explanation of how to get to Creighton Hall, or his staring at her, Faith wasn’t certain.

      Using her cane, Faith’s Aunt Penelope gave a sharp rap on the forward wall of the coach.

      Drive on, she shouted. Find a place to turn about somewhere up ahead. We have got to go back, you imbecile!

      She condescended to nod at her provider of directions and then said, My thanks and good day to you, my man.

      Before he had a chance to respond, the carriage lurched forward, leaving him standing there, mouth hanging slightly open, staring after them. Faith leaned even farther forward, straining to catch one last look of him as they departed. Her aunt, again using one arm, gently but firmly pushed her back into her seat.

      Pleasant fellow, Lady Penelope said in an offhand and dismissive way. Quite accommodating, he was, but bold as brass, and so extremely common! To stare like that is so rude.

      Did you think so? Faith asked her. I thought him well spoken at least, perhaps too much so for just a labourer.

      Worker, foreman, farmer, what difference does it make? He is still a half-naked jackanapes digging a hole, regardless of his station or position with that motley gang. Uncouth. Uncouth and coarse, I say, and I am usually an excellent judge of these things.

      Once more, a prudent Faith chose to remain silent. From long experience, she knew better than to argue such matters with her aunt. Besides, by saying nothing, Faith was free to just sit there and think what she liked. Aunt Penelope couldn’t stop her from doing that much, at least.

      And what Faith mentally dwelt upon was the striking slim man, his sparkling cerulean eyes, his open and easy smile, not to mention that bared and tanned torso, those narrow hips upon which his breeches had ridden so suggestively, nay, one might even say, provocatively low.

      Moments later, with a clatter of hooves on hard earth and accompanying creaks of leather harness, their coach slowed and made a circle at a wide spot in the dirt road. Then their carriage headed back the way it had come, back toward where the men worked. Now the view of them was on Faith’s side of the carriage. Lady Penelope Albright glanced at her niece. She frowned, then leaned past her, and pulled the shade down over the window.

      The sun is much too hot, her aunt said by way of a weak explanation. It would cause you to freckle. We would not want that, now would we?

      Faith merely nodded, but her aunt hadn’t fooled her. Faith knew all to well why the older woman had closed the blind.

      From their worksite, several of the men watched as the black town coach again went by them, this time going in the opposite direction. The squeaking wheels of the carriage raised yet another cloud of gritty dust. This drifted lazily over to where they still stood, enveloping them there.

      The shirtless man that Faith had so admired, the one whom she had unknowingly come all this way from London to meet, watched along with the other men. There was an expression of open curiosity on the relaxed features of Giles Manners, as his eyes tracked the departing coach.

      This is torture of the foulest sort! exclaimed Lady Penelope as their carriage rolled on down the road and away from the men. Why, the sheer audacity of Draken Hazelmere! How dare he demand you travel all this way to Creighton Hall? Why drag you out here into the wilds of darkest Devonshire, to the very ends of England itself, just to get us good and thoroughly lost like this?

      At this point, her aunt paused in her diatribe to raise the blind and glance once more out of her window, as if to again confirm to herself her negative opinion of the passing landscape. Green rolling hills, ones dotted with white figures of sheep and thrusting outcrops of grey rock, met her disparaging gaze.

      Then, as a seeming punctuation to her thoughts, she added, What could your cousin possibly have been thinking, or was he at all?

      Oh, Aunt Penelope, you surprise me. Lady Faith Heaton found it difficult to keep her impatience from resonating in her voice, to maintain a neutral tone as she spoke. It had been a long and difficult morning for Faith--again. Every morning, as well as every day of their trip so far, had been. This was largely due to her aunt’s obstinate behaviour, her obdurate manner, as usual.

      I had hoped the particulars of his letter were clear enough for you, Faith added. Drak has requested my help, she said, stressing the point. He did not demand anything of me. He would never do that. And do be fair, Aunt Penelope. His wife’s fall from that horse was a serious matter. She is concussed. But you know this full well already, having read his letter upon its arrival over two weeks ago.

      Even so, Lady Albright said and then gave a little sniff of scorn before continuing, It is so unkind of him, so unthinking to request such of you, my dear. He asks too much. Has Draken forgotten how long a journey this is from London? Is he unaware of the abysmal state of the roads in these backward parts? Must he not be conscious of the fact that highwaymen may lurk around ever bend according to the local innkeepers here? How very inconvenient it all is.

      Faith gave a soft sigh of resignation before saying, Aunt Penelope, if your memory serves you in this matter at all, you should remember I made a point of suggesting you would be better off to stay at home. Did I not express my fears you might not be up to the rigours of this journey?

      The view now seemingly forgotten, Lady Penelope Albright turned her beady-eyed attention full upon her niece. From out of a constricted and severe face, those dark eyes regarded the blonde-haired Faith with a look of apparent astonishment.

      Whether this expression reflected her aunt’s genuine state of emotion, or whether she had just manufactured it on the spot for effect, Faith couldn’t be certain. She never was. She knew her Aunt Penelope could use either response, real or fabricated, at seeming will, to suit whatever purpose she might have at that particular moment. Faith's Aunt Penelope was nothing if not flexible.

      Why, Faith, her aunt said, sounding truly amazed. "What did you think I would do in such a situation, abandon you to travelling on your own? What would your mother have said? Did you think I would leave you with no escort, no chaperone in attendance? How could you expect so little of my devotion to you, my regard for your reputation?

      Really, my dear, I would never be so selfish as not to accompany you, no matter how terrible the trials I must face to do so. It is my duty, she neatly finished.

      Faith only nodded at this. To say anything would only provoke more such protestations of her aunt’s loyalty, her fierce sense of devotion, of self-martyrdom. Time and experience had taught this well enough to Faith. Always and everywhere, her guardian was with her, close by her side, no matter what. This was supposedly to protect Faith’s chaste character, to ensure that her reputation remained unsullied until her wedding night.

      Well, her aunt had done the job well enough. It often seemed to Faith that if a man should so much as blink at her from a hundred yards away, make some chance remark on how like spun gold her hair was, or how green her eyes might be, then her Aunt Penelope would intercede. Like a black crow of a figure, she would flutter forth to descend upon and verbally flap away at any such undeserving fellow. Moreover, in her aunt’s eyes, it seemed all men, without exception, were undeserving.

      So, thanks largely to Lady Albright’s efforts, Faith remained chaste. Faith felt she must be destined to remain so until her wedding night. That was, if her aunt continued to have any say in the matter, which she did. However, as for such a marriage night ever to even be in the offing, to eventually occur at all, didn’t seem nearly so likely an actuality. It would not happen with dour Aunt Penelope always lurking about the place, waiting to sabotage any chance of such possible marital bliss.

      Ah, said her aunt, now changing the subject, I see that manor house coming into view again. A little bit of civilization, at least, although it is not a very good one. The manor house, I mean, she amended after another moment.

      She immediately followed this comment by yet another loud sniff. This time, there was no doubt it was one of mild disdain, judging by the sound of it. Faith was getting good at discerning the slight differences in them. Over time, she had learned the subtle nasal nuances that displayed her aunt’s various types and degrees of displeasure through such particular kinds of sniffs.

      Nevertheless, Faith turned toward her aunt’s window to catch another look at the place. She had only glanced at it on their first trip past it. An impressive if rather countrified structure was Faith’s first reaction upon seeing the building. The place stood on a rise at the end of a twisting, tree-lined lane.

      Done in the Tudor style, with white walls and aged black beams, the manse had a heavy thatched roof. The eaves of this came within feet of the ground at their lower ends. This made them look like thick, lowering eyebrows. It almost appeared as if the house was frowning back at her.

      I think that must be Seacliff House, Faith said, after a moment’s careful thought. At least, it appears much as Drak’s description of it in his letter.

      If so, then I was right. We were most definitely going the wrong way. I felt as much.

      I beg your pardon? Faith turned from the view to regard her aunt. How do you know this for certain, Aunt Penelope?

      Draken’s missive said we should turn off the main road just prior to Seacliff. We were to head north, and behind it, in order to reach Creighton Hall. We were never supposed to pass Seacliff House. According to his instructions, if we continued on this road, we would come instead to that little village he mentioned, Moorescombe-on-Sea, was it not?

      Faith pursed her lips and let out a soft sigh before dryly saying, You remember the details of Drak’s letter better than one would have thought possible, especially after so long a time, Aunt Penelope. Even better than I, and I have read it through several times. But according to that gentleman back there, you must be right.

      Gentleman, indeed! Lady Penelope Albright exclaimed this in a disgusted tone. You are always too charitable, Faith dear. And that driver; when we hired him, he claimed to know this area so well. Liar! Idiot! Oh, it is so hard to find good help these days. Whether house staff or otherwise, it is just impossible to obtain reliable workers. I blame it all on those dreadful Frenchies."

      Frenchies? This comment caught Faith off guard. Now she twisted in her seat to look at her aunt.

      What in the world do the French have to do with our servants here in England? she asked.

      Her aunt could make some rather tenuous connections, vague leaps of her so-called logic. Most of the time, Faith could figure them out, if after some trial and error, but not this time. It was beyond even her reasoning capabilities to follow the older woman’s convoluted thought processes in this instance.

      "Why, their dreadful révolution, of course, my dear. What else did you think? Equality is the culprit in all this. Those appalling people are always shouting about it. Napoleon, despite crowning himself as an emperor, insists it is a fact of life in France these days, although I daresay he doesn’t think of himself as being on the same level as a French peasant."

      And French equality makes for bad servants in England, you think? Faith asked, still mystified by the connection.

      Well, her aunt said and then sniffed yet again before adding, It does if they are under the misapprehension of thinking they are equal to us, the aristocracy. At times, the lower classes here in England can be so revolting.

      Well, if they are, let us hope it isn't in quite the same way that they have been in France, Faith said. Then she smiled to herself at her own small joke.

      Her aunt might have given her another sharp reply, but just then, the view of another manse appeared in the distance. This one was of a much statelier home than the last. With a columned portico, the building was in the Palladian style, resembling nothing so much as a large Greek

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