Emigrating with an Earl

by Murdoch, Emily

  “I am Samuel,” he said listlessly.

  The innkeeper glared at him, but handed over the letter grudgingly.

  After the innkeeper had stomped back to his bar, Samuel’s gaze dropped to the letter in his hands. The seal was one he recognised, but could not immediately place. It was only when he opened it and saw the handwriting of his friend Lord George Northmere that his curiosity was piqued. What could Northmere be writing to him about?

  Kincardine,

  If, by God’s fortune, this letter reaches you, come home. I have sent several copies of this to all the inns around Marseille – ‘tis the best way I can think of to tell you the news. The real culprit to the murder of Stephen has been found, confessed to the crime, and you are acquitted. A vagabond, no malice intended, and he has confessed. Honour has been restored to your name, and all that Penkarth Manor needs is for its master to be restored.

  Come home, Kincardine. There are plenty of people who wish to be admitted into your acquaintance again, and I remain your ever faithful and true friend,

  Lord George Northmere

  Samuel dropped the letter back onto the table, and let out a deep breath. Well, that letter was everything that he had ever wanted, all that he hoped for those dark long nights when he had hoped to avoid the Peelers, and yet now it was almost nothing to him.

  All he wanted was a life with Maggie.

  And what was so ridiculous was that it had felt so nearly in his grasp. He had barely known her when they had met at the bow of the Adelaide and been wed, and yet without realising it, he had chosen the most incredible woman – and then managed to ruin everything.

  Why had he not been honest? She may have understood, would perhaps have valued his honesty. The captain had undoubtedly seen enough people running from the law not to judge him too harshly, and would certainly have been willing to turn a blind eye if the little gold that he had managed to take with him had entered the conversation.

  And yet instead of being with her, Maggie Berry, the one and only, he was stuck here in a cheap and low French inn, with no friends or prospects. What was the point in going back to England when the one thing, the one person that he wanted was right here?

  “You look sad, monsieur,” purred a woman’s voice, and Samuel jumped to find the woman that he had mistaken for a moment for Maggie had sat beside him. “Perhaps I can cheer you up, n’est pas?”

  He stared at her, gown corseted tight to emphasise her breasts, her lips painted a dark red and her eyes almost dragging him to the bedroom. The entire picture should have made him feel hot and stiffened, and yet…nothing.

  Samuel almost laughed. Obvious sexuality no longer seemed to hold any interest to him, then. No, if he could have his way, he would rather have the subtle delights of Maggie, a woman who did not even know that she was beautiful. A woman who spent little thought and almost no time on her appearance, but smiled and brought heaven with her.

  “Be off with you,” he muttered, not unkindly, in French. “I have no need of you.”

  She pouted, but when she saw that he was in earnest, pattered away to find another man to take to her bed.

  Samuel sighed. If only convincing Maggie to stay with him had been that easy.

  11

  The sun was starting to hurt his eyes. He had been staring across at the Hotel Royale for so long, but Samuel still made no move. Courage, something he had never been lacking in before, suddenly seemed to have failed him.

  It was so ludicrous that he almost laughed. Here he was the Earl of Kincardine, celebrated across London for his bravery that went almost to foolhardiness, in hunting, in women, in cards: standing outside a hotel in the south of France, trying to get up the courage to enter it.

  Carriages clattered past him in both directions, but he barely noticed them. All he seemed able to do was stand outside and look at the hotel where, he had discovered the night before, Maggie was staying. It had not been difficult. News of Great Aunt Sabrina travelled fast.

  He took a deep breath as a carriage pulled up to the hotel. This was it. He could not stand outside here like an idiot. If he was not going to take his life into his hands and step out to claim Maggie as his bride, he may as well return home to England and fall into the life of the Earl of Kincardine that, looking back, was almost…boring.

  Samuel took one step and Maggie stepped out of the carriage that had just stopped outside the hotel, helped to the ground by a handsome young man.

  Unable to breath, unable to think, all Samuel could do was act on instinct, and he froze. He watched the two of them, heart sinking, desperately hoping that his eyes were mistaken, as Maggie laughed at something the gentleman said.

  Ah, but he was a fool. Did he really think that she would not find someone else to care for her, to love her, to see the beauty in her? She was brilliant, kind, caring, the woman that any man would want.

  “Have you forgotten about me? Ah, yes, now you snap to attention young man!” Maggie’s Great Aunt Sabrina was helped out of the carriage by their escort and the three stood for a moment taking hat boxes from the carriage.

  Samuel cursed under his breath. He should have just gone straight back to England, where he belonged, where society now expected him. He was surprised that his vouchers for Almack’s had not already found their way to him here. He should never have come to find Maggie, she had already moved on with her life. It was time that he moved on with his own.

  “Samuel? Sam!”

  His attention snapped back to the moment, away from his thoughts, and as his eyes focused he saw that Maggie was waving at him.

  “‘Tis you. I thought it was!” She looked carefully along the road in both directions before she started to cross.

  Panic was now rising in Samuel and he turned away, almost as though hiding though he knew how impossible that was.

  She had reached him now and stood before him in all her charming glory. “Did you not hear me, Samuel? Why did you not come over? Dear God, and I have just returned after a week of searching for you, and here you are after all!”

  She looked absolutely radiant, almost unbearably Maggie, and Samuel swallowed to try and find his voice. She was here, right there, standing in front of him. All he had to do was reach out and he could touch her…

  Her young gentleman laughed at something that Maggie’s Great Aunt said, and something turned cold in Samuel’s heart.

  “I did not wish to disturb you and your new…friend,” he said stiffly.

  Maggie’s eyes widened in confusion. “My friend?”

  Samuel felt the pettishness in his voice as he said, “Your gentleman friend.”

  For a moment she stared at him, utterly bewildered, and then dawning understood and she laughed, and it was like sunshine on a river. “You cannot possibly mean Henri?”

  “Probably,” snapped Samuel, hurt at her laughter. “It did not take you long to find someone, I see, and after all your words about never looking at – but I have no place to say such things. I will not take you any longer from your beloved’s company.”

  He had intended to look away, to turn away, to walk away even, but he was prevented from doing any of these things by a very violent and decided kiss. Maggie had stepped forward and clutched the lapels of his jacket, pulling him forwards towards her, and Samuel had been unable to help himself.

  He wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly as though she would break if he ever let her go. This was it, the real thing, Maggie in his arms and her lips on his, and nothing could take her away from him again. He would not let it.

  When they finally broke apart, he stared into her blue eyes that were brimming with love.

  “You are my beloved,” she whispered. “You, and no one else.”

  “But what about Henri?”

  His splutters just seemed to make her laugh. “Oh, Sam. Henri is one of the servants of the hotel! Do you think he wears a uniform for the joy of it? He accompanied Great Aunt Sabrina and me to the haberdasher to buy new hats. She needed a stron
ger arm to lean on.”

  “But,” said Samuel, trying desperately to keep up with this new information, “why could you not offer her your arm?”

  “Oh, I have been told to rest,” Maggie said dismissively, ignoring the stares of passers-by who were not accustomed to seeing two English people kissing passionately on their streets. “I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you, Sam. I love you, I should have told you earlier but I was too…too afraid to share my feelings. And I will stand by you, Sam, no matter what the rumours. I – ”

  “Maggie, you do not have to be concerned,” Samuel tried to explain to her. “I have received a letter, and Northmere says – ”

  “ – and I do not know how I could ever have thought that you could have hurt someone,” Maggie was continuing, looking up into his eyes with such devotion that it caused his stomach to hurt. “I am sorry, Sam, I should have believed you when you said – ”

  He could think of but one way to stop her talking, and the kiss was slower this time, more nuanced. It was almost impossible to pull himself away from her, but eventually he had to.

  “I have been acquitted, or cleared, or whatever the term is,” he said quietly with a smile, keeping her in his arms. “Justice has been done, and I can return to England whenever I like. But I had to see you, and…and tell you how I feel.”

  Maggie swallowed, and her eyes were bright. “Feel?”

  “Feel,” he repeated with a smile. “Christ, Maggie, being with you, making love to you, knowing you is such an unutterable blessing that I fear each time I try to understand it, you will disappear from my arms like a spirit! There is no one like you, and I am jealous. I want you all to myself so that I can adore you to my heart’s content…and for the rest of my life, if you will let me.”

  She did not need to reply in words: the fervent kiss and the quick fondle of his stiffening front was more than enough to tell Samuel what he needed to know.

  And then she laughed. “You realise that although we have had one wedding, given the present situation it would probably be a good idea if we did get married, and this time, legally.”

  Samuel stared at her, utterly bemused. “In the present situation?” And then a fragment of a phrase that she had said earlier suddenly hit his brain, and he jumped away from her, arms outstretched and mouth open. “Rest. You have been told to rest. Maggie, why have you been told to rest?”

  Maggie laughed, and nodded. “Yes, Sam. I am with child – your child. He or she will be joining us in about eight months, and I think it would be best for them if their parents were married. After all, how else will they be a lady…or the next Earl of Kincardine?”

  “Sam!” Margaret reached out for her husband but he was not there, and she groaned noisily.

  “Push, Margaret!” Adena’s hair was pinned back and wisps of hair were sticking to her forehead thanks to the sweat of the last two hours, but they were almost there. “You have to push!”

  “I cannot!” Margaret screamed. “And if one more person tells me to push then I am going to hurt someone!”

  The room was stifling hot, with the windows closed and the fire blazing in the grate. The midwife brought another hot broth to Margaret’s lips but she pushed her away, and glared at her friend.

  “How in God’s name did you do this?”

  “With great difficulty,” smiled Adena grimly. “But it will all be worth it when baby is here, and you have been in labour for hours now, Margaret, it will not be long – but you need to push.”

  Margaret tried to calm her beating heart, excruciating pain wracking her body and thirst almost overwhelming her. She was seated on her birthing stool, hands gripped onto the arms, and was utterly exhausted. But she could not be. She could feel another contraction coming, and as she pushed she screamed in the agony that overtook her body.

  “Maggie!”

  Sam burst into the room, door flying, with panic on his face. The midwife gasped and immediately tried to push him out of the room, but as respectfully as possible, he pushed back.

  “Kincardine, you really should not be in here,” Adena smiled matter-of-factly, and returned to smoothing down Margaret’s forehead with a damp cloth.

  “I am exactly where I should be,” snapped Sam as he strode across the room and knelt down by his wife’s side. “With Maggie.”

  Margaret looked down at him, a weary smile on her face and joy once more in her heart. “By thunder, am I glad to see you,” she said, her voice breaking with tiredness.

  “Another contraction coming, my lady,” said the midwife suddenly, moving forwards to place her hands gently on her rotund stomach, all thought of the Earl forgotten as her training snapped in.

  “Push,” Adena cried. “You have to push, Margaret.”

  “Push, my lady,” ordered the midwife.

  But the only voice that mattered to Margaret whispered quietly into her ear, and it came from the same man who grasped her hand and held it tightly. “Push, my Maggie.”

  She split into two with pain and a cry was heard that added itself to the din.

  “Baby is here!” The midwife had caught the baby and immediately placed the squirming flesh on Margaret’s chest, wiping the screaming thing down with a clean piece of linen. “Baby is safe, my lady, well done.”

  “You did it, Margaret,” Adena cried joyfully.

  But Margaret had eyes only for one person, and he was staring at her as though he had never seen her before.

  “Maggie, you are…” His voice faded into a croak, and Sam swallowed and tried again with a teary smile. “You are the most incredible thing on this earth, you do know that?”

  She nodded through her exhaustion, leaning back in the birthing chair. “Boy or girl?”

  With a slight amount of trepidation, Sam delicately moved a little pink leg. “A-A boy.”

  “The Baron of Pryden,” she breathed with a smile and was rewarded by a chuckle of his own.

  “I am so in awe of you, Maggie,” Samuel said, kissing her on the forehead. “I loved you after I married you, and I loved you when you married me again, but this feeling…I do not even know if there is a name for it, the depth of love I feel for you.”

  “We will leave the two of you – or rather, the three of you, alone,” said Adena briskly, hurrying the spluttering midwife out of the room.

  There wasn’t silence after the door closed, however. The little baby boy that had been born but minutes before was gurgling, and with an instinct that Margaret could barely understand, she drew him into her arms and brought him to her breast.

  “I am never,” she breathed, “doing that again.”

  Sam chuckled. “You may feel differently when you see just how incredible our son is. Our son, Maggie. Our son.”

  And in some ways, it was true, Margaret thought. As she dropped her gaze to her son, nursing at her breast, he seemed to fit so completely and perfectly in her arms. It was as though he had been missing from them for every moment until this one.

  Tears filled her eyes, and she turned to look at her husband, her Earl on the run. “Thank you for choosing me, that day. Thank you for marrying me, Sam. You have given me – given me such joy.”

  Sam’s mouth broke into a matching smile. “Even as an emigrating earl, Maggie, I have never felt so wealthy and so special as I do right at this very moment.”

  * * *

  Wondering where Éduard could be? You can discover where he actually is in his own Ravishing Regencies story in Peril with a Prince – read on for the first chapter…

  You can also read Lord George Northmere’s story in Lost with a Lord and Adena’s story in Marooned with a Marquis!

  Please do leave a review if you have enjoyed this book – I love reading your thoughts, comments, and even critiques!

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  Peril with a Prince

  Chapter One

  The tankard dropped hard on the
table and was accompanied by a leer that Giselle could see from right across the room in the dark inn. Frothy beer spilling onto the floor. She bared her teeth back at him, and the man’s eyes widened, his smile disappearing.

  Giselle wrapped her cloak around her more tightly, and tried not to shiver. Merde. She should have known better than to accept a meeting at the Loxham Inn – or however it was that this English pronounced it. She had known that it was a mistake as soon as she had opened the letter the day before, but there had not been time to get a message back to her contact. And so the Loxham Inn, on the very edge of this Kentish coast, was to be her rendezvous.

  She swallowed. Being this close to her home in France and yet so far was douloureux, too painful – but she could not go back there. Not since… Well, it was safer for her here, en Angleterre.

  Giselle took a slow and meaningful look around the dingy room, decorated poorly for the Christmas season, trying not to grimace as she held her arm close to her chest. It was a small stab wound to start with, but constant movement in that carriage to get here had pulled at the healing, and now it was bleeding through her sleeve. It was a pity it was her right hand, for it meant that she was forced to hold her dagger in her left.

  You could not be too careful when meeting a man you’ve never even set your eyes on before.

  Giselle shivered and took a deep breath as a card game two tables over ended in mutterings and a punch that forced one man to the ground. Here she was, a young woman in a silk gown and elegant diamond ear bobs, sitting in one of the most dangerous inns in England. C’est stupide.

  Another deep breath was needed as the minutes ticked by, and the innkeeper glared at her for keeping the small table to herself. You are the Great Whisperer, Giselle said to herself, trying to keep a stern and forbidding look on her face. Courage. You have always managed to get out of scrapes before.