To Catch the Candid Earl: Regency Historical Romance

by Eleanor Keating

"Come, dear girl. You look worried; has anything happened?"

  Lucy sat down on the bedside cushion, squeezing her fingers together nervously.

  "Lucy?"

  Lucy looked up at Lady Agnes and was shocked to see a candid, intuitive expression on her face.

  "You can talk to me about anything, dear child. You don't have to fear judgment or criticism because you're like the daughter I never had. Talk to me, sweetness; what troubles you?"

  Emotional and teary from the woman's genuine words, Lucy wasted no time in telling her everything, although refraining from the truth about her identity.

  That would only hurt the woman who'd shown her the utmost kindness from the first day she'd stepped into the house.

  She couldn't do that to her.

  Weary and spent from the confession of her treatment of Edmund and her involvement with the rakish Lord Rutherford, Lucy's tears finally stopped, leaving only sniffles, as Lady Agnes patted her hands on the bed.

  "The afflictions in matters of the heart are often so heavy and numerous that one sometimes wishes one didn't feel anything. However, we come to the realization that, without them, we would never really be complete." Lady Agnes's voice was comforting, and Lucy began to slowly feel at ease.

  The lady continued, "I never married because the one I truly loved died at sea. He was an adventurer whose life fascinated and scared me, although to this day I'm filled with regret for not leaving with him and taking a chance; I'm beyond glad our paths crossed and I gave him my heart."

  Lucy saw the myriad of emotions flicker through the woman's eyes, ranging from sadness, regret and finally, to love.

  "There is nothing like being loved, Lucy, even if our society isn't exactly a good example for it, and one simply marries for wealth, advancements, and dynasties. It's a good thing you've come to the realization all on your own, and can see that not all that shines and glitters is actually gold. But the question is; do you love Edmund?"

  The question caught Lucy off guard.

  It had been there, right there all along, since the first moment she'd laid eyes on the solicitor whose intense gaze made her weak in the knees and threw her heart into a wild state of frenzy.

  She loved Edmund. She'd loved him for a while but had been so blind to see and recognize it because she'd been so consumed with the need to make a profitable match, and sell herself to the bidder willing to pay for the fancy life she'd always dreamt of and wanted.

  She loved Edmund, everything about him; from his emerald green eyes, to the cleft in his chin and the way his eyes smoldered whenever he gazed at her.

  Not to mention how much his touch and kisses melted her on the inside even though it'd been long since they shared such intimacy. She loved and wanted Edmund, and couldn't believe how long she'd been foolish, how she'd been willing to throw it all away.

  "From the look in your eyes, I'm guessing you love him, child?"

  Lucy nodded at Lady Agnes, her eyes wide and full of unshed tears.

  "Then it's all easy to work out from there. If I know much of anything, I know that young man cares deeply for you. All you have to do is find a way to make him understand, and open your heart to him. Someone who loves you the way Edmund does won't stay mad at you for too long.

  Just think of a way to remedy the situation and embrace your happiness, dear girl,"

  Lady Agnes advised, rubbing away the tears sliding down Lucy's cheek.

  Suddenly overcome with emotions, Lucy got up and enfolded the sweet lady in a hug. "Thank you, My Lady; for being so good to me, and for everything. I don't know how my life would have turned out without you…" Her voice was cut off by a choke of emotions as Lady Agnes patted her hair affectionately.

  "You'd have turned out wonderfully, dear Lucy. You are a fighter, as I've mentioned before, haven't I?"

  It came to Lucy just as she returned to her bedchamber, leaning heavily on the door.

  There was a way she could repair everything and keep Edmund from losing everything because he chose to stand by the truth, and do the right thing.

  He'd mentioned once his fondness for his tutor, Charles Goodman Esq.; a barrister reputable for his work and stance at the parliament and houses. Perhaps if she wrote to him to explain the problem, there could be a way to get Edmund to keep his heir presumptive title, without having to compromise and ruin a woman's life in the process.

  Although she wasn't learned in that field, she knew laws and consequences existed against the sort of thing the viscount and earl planned to do to Lady Mary.

  Lucy brightened as the idea took shape in her head. She walked to her small escritoire and settled down, rooting for a plain sheet of paper to begin the letter.

  It didn't matter if Edmund didn't want her anymore, after all she'd said and done, she probably deserved it. But that wouldn't stop her compulsion and need to help him turn everything around. She owed him that much, for what she'd attempted to do with him.

  He didn't have to lose everything because he was standing for the truth, a truth she'd been so willing to compromise for a life of leisure and satisfaction.

  Besides, it was high time Lord Langford was knocked off his high horse. The man thought he was beyond reproach, and couldn't go on mistreating people because of his evil mind.

  With renewed vigor and hope shimmering in her eyes, Lucy addressed the letter, and began to write.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Stuck between the state of sleep and wakefulness, Edmund finally had enough of pretending he'd go to sleep, and climbed out of bed.

  Exiting his bedchamber, he heard Shelbroke snoring loudly.

  If there was something his friend could do effortlessly, it was sleeping through a crisis. The uncaring cad! Edmund wished he could be that way, but had found out just how impossible it was to keep his thoughts quiet.

  Especially when they revolved around a monumental change.

  It was finally time to confront the things that'd kept him awake for nights on end.

  It was time to face the truth he couldn't ignore or deny anymore.

  He missed Lucy Middleton.

  He missed her to the point that he found himself having conversations with her in his head. He missed the sound of her laughter, and the set of her face in the throes of deep introspection. He missed the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, and the taste of her lips against his.

  The connection he felt for her was unimaginably extreme, and right there sitting at his desk, staring at the second copy of the adultery letter, Edmund knew he loved her.

  A warm suffusion started from his chest and spread through his entire body and he was thoroughly smiling for the first time in a long time.

  He loved Lucy, and he was going to make her see it was enough.

  It was Amelia's letter that had finally made it all clearer for him to understand. He'd been by the modiste to find out how she was doing, seeing that he hadn't gotten a response to the letter he wrote to her about distrusting Lucy.

  He'd found his sister's arms laden with gowns, materials and petticoats, an apologetic smile on her face as she tucked a note in his hands.

  It wasn't till Edmund had gotten home that he'd read it; the contents easing the distrust he had both of Lucy and women generally.

  Dear, sweet Amelia had implored he didn't judge Lucy too harshly. She'd seen through her cover pretty easily when they met, and after an in-depth conversation they'd had at the family home regarding wealth, privileges, and family, she'd deduced Lucy had seen much pain and poverty, and was deathly scared of it. She was someone who didn't want to end up struggling for everything anymore and truly wanted to be secure. She'd accepted Lucy because she'd found Lucy's heart to be pure and warm, despite knowing in her guts something was amiss.

  Amelia had advised he get closer to her, and make her understand he'd never leave; that way he could gently earn her trust to divulge the truth, and the reasons for her anxiety and eagerness concerning money.

  One thing his sister had pointed out t
hat had stuck in his head was that he shouldn't judge her by the behavior of his former love interest, Kate Charrington. They were different women, and it was high time he let the past stop hanging over him like a weighty cloud.

  Edmund hadn't even realized he had been doing that until she mentioned it, but it was grossly unfair to both him and Lucy.

  He knew that had stemmed from his insecurity about Lucy's beauty and amazing qualities, and it had been easy thinking she'd be like Kate too—leave him for a richer titled man.

  It had been a struggle to keep from bloodying Lord Rutherford's nose at the tavern days ago, for the deep hurt he'd caused in Lucy's eyes with his cruel words.

  She'd looked so broken and devastated that Edmund had tried not to allow her angry, parting words bother him.

  Those words had made the letter clearer, and given him the insight he'd truly needed to Lucy Middleton.

  He loved her so much, and didn't care about anything he'd find out later about her.

  All he was concerned about was making her understand that, and making her admit she felt the same way about him, because he knew she did. It had been shimmering in her tear-filled eyes that night in the alley, along with pain and disillusionment.

  He would prove to her that his love was enough to trump whatever horrible thing she'd been through in her past.

  Filled with a new zeal and tentative happiness, Edmund picked up the letter he'd redrafted for the viscount and shredded it into pieces.

  Shelbroke had been right a month ago. He was a hypocrite and a coward; working for the earl despite all he knew about him. The man might have sired him, but he wasn't and would never be a father to him.

  Maurice Swinton was his father. That man had raised him and taught him the right morals and values in life. That man had taken his disgraced mother in and shown her love, uncaring that she carried another man's child. That man was his father, and he'd taught Edmund enough to know sending that letter and being a party to ruining Lady Mary only made him despicable.

  He wouldn't send the letter, and whatever pitfalls might occur due to that, he'd face them and soldier on to the best of his ability.

  He'd been fine before he started working for the earl and learnt he'd be the sole heir to his estate after his death. He would keep on being fine without all of the wealth and trappings of the aristocratic world.

  He was a hard worker and would do all he could to provide Lucy with a good home and life.

  Edmund felt his smile grow larger at the thought. He wanted to marry Lucy, and wake up every morning staring at her beautiful face and slightly upturned nose.

  He wanted to discuss books, poetry, and politics with her every evening while they prepared for bed, and he couldn't wait to know how it felt being inside her, lost in her warmth and sweetness.

  Whatever it took to make all this happen, he would do, without compromising his morals and sinking to the level of scum.

  Energized by this goal, and assisted by the feeling in his heart, Edmund went through his duty the rest of the morning diligently and quickly, to the surprise of Shelbroke who'd been dealing with his bad moods for the past days.

  At half-past two, he was dressed and heading out to visit Lucy, when he heard a small, tentative knock at the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Lucy stood staring at Edmund for the first couple of seconds after he'd opened the door, feeling her heart swell and constrict from love, worry, and hope.

  I know I might not have a chance with this man anymore, but I just wish for another chance. Just another chance to change his impressions of me!

  "Hello... Edmund, I'm sorry to call unannounced, but I'd like to speak to you if you can grant me the audience for a short time. I promise not to talk too long." Lucy's voice was strong and determined; she was a contrast to the nervous wreck she'd been previously.

  "You would never be taking up my time, Lucy. Do come in; I was actually on my way to call on you." Edmund's face held a welcoming smile and his eyes burned with the intensity she'd come to be used to. An intensity she missed deeply.

  "You weren't accompanied by your maid, Caroline?" He looked out on the slightly busy street, filled with travelling vendors and an assortment of hurrying feet and hooves.

  "No, I came alone. I didn't want to detain her from her other duties."

  Edmund looked like he wanted to say more but decided against it, ushering her inside quickly.

  Walking into his house, Lucy admired the modest taste in furniture, and woolly rugs, her gaze lingering for a few seconds on a couple of impressive artworks arranged on the sitting room wall.

  "Those belong to my housemate, Peter. He might be quite a character, but I can't deny his marvelous tastes in art and design."

  Lucy turned back to Edmund with a nervous smile as he ushered her into a seat.

  "Thank you, Edmund, for the receiving me, which you weren't obliged to, after our last encounter."

  Edmund clasped his long, fine fingers together, his expression light and mixed with something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

  "Can I beg you, dear lady, to stop apologizing? It's perfectly alright. I was just on my way to call on you and seeing you here is just perfect. There is something I have to tell you, Lucy, and—"

  "Please, Edmund," Lucy interrupted suddenly, anxiety growing as she clutched an envelope to her bosom.

  "I'd like to go first, please. I have to apologize for everything I said at the tavern with... with Lord Rutherford.

  You rescued me from his dreadful clutches and I blamed you for something you know nothing about when I should be the one judged and berated."

  Tears were smarting in her eyes, but Lucy continued. She wasn't going to be deterred till she'd confessed everything, no matter how embarrassing or painful it was.

  She lowered her eyes from Edmund's concerned and troubled gaze to her gloved hands.

  "My name is Lucette Middleton Walsh, and I'm not the daughter of a baronet, but a commoner soldier and a laundrywoman from a small parish in Wilshire. After my mother's death last year, I decided to come to London and seek a life with more security and comfort. It was so wretched living in utter poverty as a laundrywoman's daughter, and then losing everything and being admitted to the workhouse. I was so scared of spending my life in such conditions, so I swore to marry a titled man with wealth. Thus I assumed this facade, and created this new image for myself.

  "Alas, tis all a big delusion, thinking that it could all make me feel better on the inside." Lucy almost choked on the bitterness and shame of all she'd done to rid herself of her own identity as tears poured down her face.

  "Dear Lucy, please stop crying, I can't bear to see you so hurt and aching like this."

  Edmund's gentle, tortured voice broke through the mental prison Lucy was trapped in, but she couldn't emerge yet. She had to let him know everything.

  "I deserve it, Edmund," she continued, unable to look him in the face. "I deserve to be in such pain for setting myself so high instead of embracing humility. When I met you, I didn't expect to feel the way I do about you. I never expected things to turn out as they did, so I tried hard to fight my feelings, and focus on the plan to marry a wealthy man.

  "I had my sight set on the viscount initially, before I learnt full details of the wager and I knew he wouldn't have me. Also, as I learned more about him, I was repulsed by his low character. I've tried to attract other gentlemen but none of it worked because not only do I lack a dowry, they seemed to see through my mask of pretense. It felt like they knew I was a poser."

  Lucy chanced a look at Edmund through the haze of blinding tears and saw tenderness in his eyes, which became her undoing.

  "I'm sorry; I'm such a terrible person and I completely understand if you don't want anything to do with me anymore."

  There was nothing else to say as pain slammed through Lucy and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing.

  Suddenly, strong familiar hands held and cradled her, which made it all worse an
d better at the same time.

  "I'm sorry, Edmund, I'm so sorry. I've just been so scared of ending back at the workhouse laundry room ... I hated the smell of soap for so long and I couldn't imagine going back to that life..."

  "Shhh... shhh, darling, don't trouble your heart anymore, ease your tears, I completely understand." Edmund rubbed her hair and cradled her closer to his chest.

  His warmth felt like home, and Lucy couldn't believe she'd ever thought to leave. No one could make her feel like Edmund; no one could ever make her so deliriously happy and free even in the throes of sadness.

  Finally her sobs had reduced to a sniffle, and Edmund pulled her slightly off his chest, to gaze into her eyes.

  Lucy was shocked at the depth of feeling and possession she found in them.

  "I had a feeling something was weighing on you, dear Lucy, and I'm glad you can finally trust me enough to tell me.

  I love you, Lucy, regardless of anything else, and I was on my way to convince you that we were meant for each other, despite anything else."

  "Oh… Edmund..." Lucy's heart shivered and caught at his words, as a strangely exhilarating feeling streaked through her.

  "Yes, my darling love," Edmund said, cradling her face between his palms, as he stared at her with love and adoration.

  "I've decided not to forward the letter, and will work hard to free Lady Mary from that sham of a marriage, and save her dignity. I don't care if I lose the inheritance, or what might happen afterwards. As long as I have you, nothing else matters and I promise to work hard to give you everything you desire. Just say you'll stay with me, Lucy. The past is gone and we can start all over again."

  Tears coursed down Lucy's face in rivulets. "I love you too, Edmund, I've loved you for a while and I can't fight it anymore. I sincerely don't deserve you, I really don't, and no lack of money can make me stop loving you. I don't even care if we end up in the workhouse someday, as long as we are together. Everything else fades in comparison."

  Edmund chuckled. "The workhouse, indeed! Lucy, my work may not earn me vast wealth, but it is quite steady and respectable enough to keep us in comfort and enable us to have a happy home. I thank you for coming into my life. You don't know how much I've missed you all this while. Perhaps this will show you."