Page 1 of Mounted By Her Officers

Chapter 1

The Spread Eagle, Lewes

Lydia Wickham had not been in the coaching yard of the Spread Eagle Inn a full minute before a courier almost rode her down, which she considered a fair approximation of her marriage. She yelped, nearly falling into the muck.

“Have a care!” shouted Captain Chamberlayne, dressed in his Auntie Mildred widow’s weeds for the sake of propriety.

He took Lydia’s arm, saw she was well, and set off at high sail.

“Mrs. George Wickham?” asked the courier.

Lydia froze. There was no denying it, much as she wished to. She was twenty years of age, married four, and hoping to evade everyone from her unloving husband to her mostly loving family.

“Unfortunately,” she said, resigning herself to whatever the man might bear, news or otherwise.

“I’ve a letter, ma’am,” the man said. “And I’ve been instructed to wait for a response.”

“You might as well stable your horse and have a meal,” said Chamberlayne. “Dear Lydia is not in the habit of corresponding, as her social engagements keep her busy. This might take some time.”

Lydia and her “Auntie Mildred” made their way to the inn, letter in hand. She recognized the seal and the handwriting.

“Who is it?” asked Chamberlayne, eyeing the thing like something struck by the carriage and left for dead.

“My most boring sister,” Lydia said. How she dreaded opening the fine stationery and seeing whatever carefully chosen, kind words awaited.

“The studious one? Plays piano?”

“No. Thankfully, Mary can be provoked into an argument.”

“Then, the younger one always following you about?”

“Kitty? She’s older than me and a lark. No, it’s Jane,” sighed Lydia. “The eminently respectable Mrs. Bingley.”

“At least she’s not descended on our merry party personally,” said Chamberlayne, waving to Denny and Carter, who had been waiting for them in the inn’s public rooms, as their horses galloped much faster than the carriage could travel.

Lydia snorted. “She’d not be able to on account of her belly. She is barely delivered of a brat before Mr. Bingley gives her another.”

She felt the injustice of her situation. She’d been the first of her sisters to marry, and the only one not to bear fruit. It had been remarked upon, especially considering the speed of her marriage.

And then her family, the soldiers’ wives, and the people of Meryton conspicuously said nothing. At least not to her.

Being without a child in her skirts or a baby on the hip had been a boon when she was hauling water for George Wickham. Lydia would never have admitted as much, of course, but it made a good many things simpler.

Now that she had doting men at her side, Lydia couldn’t help but ache. What would it be like to have a little someone of her own? Someone of their own?

“We saw the look on your face and ordered a good deal of cheese,” said Denny, following the ladies into the private parlor. “Don’t tell me the roads were so poorly that you’re unwell?”

“We traveled over the same turnpikes you did,” replied Chamberlayne. “Don’t tell me you took them so quickly as to not notice the state of them?”

“Denny was trying to ask if Lydia might be breeding,” said Carter, bringing up the rear and closing the door.

Breeding. Oh no, most certainly not. She sometimes wished she might have unexpected news to share with her officers, but her courses had arrived shortly after they’d departed Brighton in a rush after she’d seen her Aunt Gardiner outside the Theatre Royal.

“We’ll be at my country house in five days,” said Denny, extending his long legs and lighting a cheroot.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t go to mine,” said Chamberlayne, sniffing and taking a seat after adjusting his skirts.

“We have a wealth of places we might go to escape prying eyes,” reported Carter dryly. “I’ve but one residence, a townhouse in London. I’ve just that and a hard cock.”