A Rake's Redemption

by G. L. Snodgrass

  No, his mother had been left to raise a duke and face the world alone. This was why he allowed her to poke into his life occasionally. He did care for her. But not enough to shackle himself to one woman for the rest of his life.

  “I hear the tables in the back rooms calling,” he said. “Will you excuse me? I believe I have put in enough of an appearance to satisfy Lady Everton.”

  His mother smiled sadly as she took his arm to stop him from leaving. “You will think about it, won’t you? Marriage?”

  A shot of guilt filled him. “Perhaps,” he answered, it was the best he could do at the moment.

  She sighed heavily and released him. He smiled down at her then turned to leave. As he made his way around the room, he was repeatedly stopped by young women and their mothers. Each of them smiling at him as if he was something special. A trophy to be won.

  His mother’s words echoed in his mind.

  He knew what they saw. A tall man, well formed, dark and handsome, some said. With more money than was good for him. And a title that placed him at the height of society. The perfect catch.

  No, he thought. He knew he was right in his intentions. He would never be some woman’s prey.

  When he reached the back room, he was disappointed to find the tables already full. His mother had delayed him, probably unintentionally, but one could never be sure.

  “Norwich,” his friend James said as he handed him a whiskey. He studied the young man for a second and realized that his best friend, Johnathon, James’s older brother would have been proud.

  Norwich and Johnathon had attended the same school and formed a bond of friendship that could not be dismissed. At least not until Johnathon had stupidly gotten himself killed on some Portuguese field charging the French lines.

  In accordance with Johnathon’s request, Norwich had taken on the responsibility of ensuring James’s smooth transition into manhood. What had surprised him was how much he had come to like the young man. He was intelligent without being pedantic. Funny, without being silly. And perhaps most of all. Unimpressed with Norwich’s title.

  “James,” he replied.

  His friend sighed heavily. “It is Brookenham, now.”

  Norwich blanched, he had not heard. “Your uncle? Your cousin …”

  Lord Brookenham nodded slowly. “It appears my uncle had a hunting accident, or at least that is what the family is saying. His son, on hearing the news, and desperate to take up the title and all of its social status, raced across half of Britain only to fall from his horse outside of Cambridge. Now, he is neither an earl nor able to enjoy any of its benefits.”

  Norwich’s could only shake his head. Jonathon had often spoken of his family’s poor luck. “So, you are an earl? How does it feel?”

  Brookenham took a long sip from his glass and shuddered. “What do I know about being an earl? I wasn’t trained for this. I was a cousin. A relative. Expected to make my own way in the world. With a nice allowance of course. What do I know of estates, tenants, rents? Whether I should turn land over to sheep or keep producing corn. It is mind-boggling.”

  Norwich smiled slightly. He had grown up with those issues being drilled into him by both his tutors and by Old Stevenson. By the time he was thirteen, he knew well how to tell when a man was lying to him. Knew when a barn needed to be replaced. Which roads were being kept in good repair and a thousand other things it took to keep society running smoothly.

  He raised his glass to his friend and smiled slightly. “Welcome to our world and don’t worry too much. Your agents will do the work. You just need to make sure they don’t steal you blind. And that your tenants are well taken care of. That is important. If not, they have a habit of leaving to work in the factories. And believe me, no estate can be run usefully without tenants.”

  Brookenham sighed heavily, “that is just it. When I talked with my uncle’s barrister yesterday, he seemed to think the estates should be performing better.”

  “Perhaps,” Norwich said as he stared out over the tables and watched Lord Cochran lose a big hand. “You will have to visit your estates and investigate for yourself.”

  Brookenham grimaced and shook his head. “How would I know what to look for? I tell you I would be lost. Numbers, people, fields. All of it is a bit … I don’t know, a little too much like work if you ask me.”

  Norwich frowned as he studied his friend. James was still young at barely twenty-one. But what is more, he had been given an easy life. Enough of an allowance from his uncle to live without fear or concern.

  No responsibilities and no expectations. It was a shame. The man had never been challenged and now he had been thrust into this new world. The new Earl would be taken advantage of, he realized and the thought troubled him. Jonathon would be disappointed in him.

  “If you want, I could go with you,” Norwich said before he had thought the matter through.

  “Really?” James said with surprise as a hope filled his eyes.

  Norwich sighed internally. It would be a disruption. But when he thought of it, the idea of escaping London and this world of clinging woman and their mothers sounded better and better as he thought of it.

  “Yes, of course,” he told his friend. “The main estate and most of the land are in Wycombe, correct?”

  Brookenham nodded. “Yes, with another estate in Cornwall. A long-lost pirate in our family history, I believe.”

  Norwich nodded. “Very well. We will travel to your estates and discover the truth. A good agent is all you need.”

  His friend sighed heavily, “Thank you. That is very kind of you.”

  The Duke laughed and smiled. “It is you that is doing me a favor. Pulling me out of London before my mother can marry me off.”

  James laughed, “Yes, I know what you mean. It is so strange, suddenly I find myself the interest of every woman I know. Before, I was the half-forgotten distant relative of an earl. Now, it seems I am of extreme value.”

  Norwich laughed but refrained from telling his friend how bad it would become.

  “Of, course, if this is to work,” The Duke of Norwich said, “perhaps I should arrive incognito. One thing I have learned is that when people learn I am a duke, they have a habit of dissembling or telling me things they think I wish to hear. It is so hard to learn the truth.”

  “They know me there,” Brookenham said. “Or I would join you in being in disguise.” The young man smiled at the idea of the two of them sneaking into his new home. Then sighed heavily. “But yes, a friend from London. You would be able to find out the truth so much easier.”

  Norwich smiled to himself. The thought of becoming someone else sounded very appealing. Even if it was but for a short time. Yes, this would be most enjoyable.

  “What should we call you?” Brookenham asked, obviously raising to the idea.

  Norwich shrugged his shoulders, “I suppose my real name. The one I was born with.”

  Brookenham frowned for a moment, “And that is?”

  Norwich laughed, “Daniel. Daniel Marlow.”

  Brookenham smiled as he held out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Mister Marlow.”

  Norwich took the outstretched hand. Gave a small bow and said, “Lord Brookenham, it is an honor.”

  The two of them smiled at each other. Both of them looking forward to their upcoming adventure.

  Chapter Two

  Miss Ann Stafford pulled the last piece of thread from the lace and sighed heavily. She remembered adding this very lace less than three years earlier. Now, the dress would serve for her youngest sister, Isabelle.

  Gathering up the loose piece of fabric she set it aside as she shook out the dress and held it up. Yes, it would have to work. Heaven knew they had no other choice. At fourteen, Isabelle would be able to use it for day to day wear.

  “Ann,” her other sister Lydia called from the kitchen.

  “I’m coming,” Ann answered as she set aside her work and joined her sister. As she entered the kitchen, she couldn’t help b
ut smile. At sixteen, Lydia was coming into her own. Tall, fair, and with their mother’s fine features. She would surely capture a husband. Perhaps a tradesman, or a prosperous farmer.

  Her heart ached. It was the girl’s only hope if she was ever to escape.

  “What is it?” Ann asked.

  Lydia sighed audibly as she fought to hold back a tear. “I’ve burnt the stew. However did Misses Culver do it? Her food always came out so perfect.”

  The pained look on her sister’s face pulled at Ann’s heart. The girl tried so hard. All three of them did. But life was so hard sometimes.

  Sighing, she pulled Lydia in for a quick hug then stepped back and wiped at her sister’s tears. “I assure, even Misses Culver made mistakes too. The difference was that she knew how to hide them well.

  “What will Aunt Ester say?” Lydia said as she started to retrieve the few pieces of meat from the stew.

  Ann smiled. “You know very well that Aunt Ester will not even notice. Sometimes I do believe the woman believes she is eating in a Paris salon not her distant relative’s estate in the backwater of Wycombe.”

  Lydia smiled slightly. “Help me with new carrots?”

  Ann smiled at her sister and joined her at the cutting board. As she worked, her mind wandered to thinking about just how far she and her sisters had fallen. How their lives had changed over this last year.

  Their father’s death, the crushing debt, and loss of their father’s business. The long ride on the mail coach from Birmingham to sweet Aunt Ester here in Wycombe. For the thousandth time, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks. If not for their aunt there was no telling what might have happened to them.

  A cold chill ran down her spine as she thought of the ladies of the night walking the streets. She had seen them and always felt a sadness at their plight. The realization that she and her sisters had come so close to joining them would never leave her.

  “Where is Isabelle?” she asked Lydia, desperate to take her mind off such thoughts.

  Lydia shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows? The girl is like a wisp of wind, disappearing into the air like an afterthought.”

  Ann chuckled to herself. Lydia and Isabelle had a sisterly rivalry that underlay everything about them. Yet she knew that the two of them would fight to the death to protect the other.

  As she grabbed another carrot to prepare for the pot she sighed heavily. “I need her to try on the dress so I can hem it correctly. The girl has grown so much this last year.”

  Lydia added some potatoes and smiled, “It must be my cooking.”

  Ann laughed, good, her sister was back. Once she had Lydia back on the path to dinner. she wiped her hands on a towel and smiled at her. “The apples on the main estate look as if they might be ripe. Do you think you could make a pie tomorrow?”

  Lydia frowned. “Ann, are you sure? We aren’t really supposed to do that. Are we?”

  Ann shrugged her shoulders. “There is a tree at the edge of the orchard. It can’t be seen from the main house. If I am careful, I should be able to gather a basket without anyone knowing.”

  Her sister stared at her for a long second. That was the thing about Lydia. Their fall, had hit her hardest. Anything that threatened to make things worse was to be avoided at all costs.

  “It will be all right. I promise you.”

  Lydia could only shake her head as her lips tightened in obvious disapproval. “Perhaps you should send Isabell. If she is caught, she can claim ignorance. Heaven knows the girl gets away with everything as it is.”

  “Send me where?” their youngest sister said as she stormed into the kitchen through the back door. The girl had only recently started to break out of that gawky, long-limbed stage. Ann’s heart softened as she watched the young girl.

  “Where have you been?” Lydia demanded. “You were supposed to dust the front room.”

  “I did it already,” Isabelle said as she snuck a piece of carrot off the cutting board. “And I was up at the main estate. You will never guess what I heard.”

  The thought of her little sister drawing attention to them troubled her. Their aunt was only distantly related to the Earl. He had given her this house to use only because there was not enough land to support a fully functioning farm.

  To make it even more tenable, the three sisters were not even related directly to the Earl himself. At any time, he could well decide that he had closer family more in need. And once again they would find themselves out in the cold.

  The thought of her sister upsetting the people at the estate and word getting back to the Old Earl made her stomach turn over. Luckily, the man was hardly ever in residence. Instead, spending his time in London. A good thing, she thought to herself.

  “Why were you at the main estate?” Ann asked.

  Isabelle smiled a secret smile.

  “A new stable boy has been hired, I bet,” Lydia said as she wiped her hands on her apron.

  Isabelle smiled even wider and Ann knew that Lydia had probably been correct.

  Ann sighed internally. Why couldn’t her sister be drawn to intelligent, well-bred young men? Men who would amount to something? Instead, Isabelle seemed to find the wild ones the most interesting.

  “Do you want to know or not?” the young girl asked.

  “What did you learn?” Lydia asked.

  Isabelle held silent for a moment, obviously enjoying the suspense and the fact that she knew something her older sisters didn’t.

  “The Earl is dead. And his son, the Viscount as well.”

  “What?” Ann snapped as her stomach clenched into a tight ball. Not because she cared about the Earl. She had never actually met the man. No, it was the sudden fear of what this could mean for them.

  Isabelle nodded vigorously. ”Elizabeth, one of the chambermaids, told me.”

  “What, did she join you in spying on the new stable man?” Lydia asked.

  Isabelle’s cheeks grew a little pink as she glanced down at the floor. It seemed Lydia had been right and hit the mark. A flash of anger filled Ann. Didn’t her sisters realize what this could mean? The new Earl had no family obligation to care for Aunt Ester. He could very well tell them to leave at any time.

  “When?” Ann asked as her mind whirled. What other options did they have? There was a distant cousin that lived in Yorkshire. But she was even poorer than themselves and could never take them in. Her stomach turned over with pure fear.

  “Several weeks ago,” she said, “they only learned yesterday when a letter came from London.”

  “Did they say anything about the new Earl?” Ann asked as she scrambled to push back the fear that had settled at the bottom of her stomach.

  Isabelle shook her head. “No, they know nothing more. Although Caroline did say that Mr. Wesley, the butler, mentioned that there was every chance that the Earl might not come to the estate himself. She said that he wouldn’t stop talking about how today’s nobility just wasn’t as good as the older generation.”

  “You shouldn’t be gossiping with the servants,” Lydia said as she shook her head. “It is unbecoming of a lady.”

  Isabelle stared at her sister with disbelief. “We aren’t ladies, remember? If we were, we wouldn’t be living in a cold cottage in the middle of nowhere. You wouldn’t be making stew again for the fourth time this week.”

  Lydia lifted her nose a little and said, “That doesn’t mean we can’t act correctly. Momma would have wanted us to.”

  Ann shook her head. This was an old argument between the two of them. Lydia regretted all they had lost. The chance of a season. The possibility of meeting and marrying a rich, powerful husband. Isabelle regretted the expectations of being a lady without any of the benefits. The constraints naturally pulled at her. Hemming her in, as it were.

  Deciding the best way to stop this argument was to separate them before it became a yelling match. She asked Isabelle to retrieve some water from the well and handed her the bucket.

  “And don’t go running off again
,” Lydia said as the young girl exited, letting the backdoor slam behind her.

  Lydia sighed heavily as she closed her eyes for a moment, obviously to gather herself and stop from screaming after her sister. She turned to Ann and frowned.

  “Will we be alright, do you think?” she asked with an obvious fear behind her eyes.

  Ann sighed, her stomach told her that she should be worried. Very worried. But there was no need to frighten Lydia.

  “Things will be just fine,” she said as she patted her sister’s arm. “Now then, you finish dinner. I will go give Aunt Ester the news.”

  Ann left her sister and took a deep breath. How would their life change? she wondered. And why had the Viscount died as well? It was as if the world was out to get them. He, as the Earl’s son had been directly related to Aunt Ester. Their chance of remaining would have been so much better.

  .o0o.

  Ann woke with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had spent the night tossing and turning as a desperate fear ate at her. Not for the first time, she re-examined her inability to attract a husband. At nineteen she should have been married.

  But the men in her small world found her intimidating. They didn’t know where to place her. Educated as a lady, she was thought too high in status to be a farmer’s wife. Yet too poor to attract any man with ambition.

  There had been the butcher’s son, Edward. But the man had frightened her. Something about the cold set of his eyes and the way he looked at her as if she were nothing more than a carcass to be hung in his father’s shop. It was enough to turn her away before the thought could even be entertained.

  The realization that she would probably die alone sent another wave of sadness through her. That might be true, she thought. But that did not mean it had to happen to her sisters. No, she would work on finding them suitable husbands when the time arose.

  In the meantime. She must think of what to do if they were turned away from this house.