A Fragile Chain of Daisies: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 4)

by Jackie Williams

  Tonight it appeared that the earl’s head pained him more than usual. All that squinting, rubbing his forehead. And the argument with his daughter couldn’t have helped. Despair swept through Thomas again. How could he have been so rude? He would be lucky if he still had a job come the morning. And then he might never see Madeleine again.

  His body shook. Could he live without seeing her, knowing her, speaking to her? No, it would be only half a life. But how could he live, seeing her every day and yet not be able to possess her? He didn’t know, but had to try. The alternative was unbearable. He had to return to the earl’s study and apologize. And pray that his Lordship would forgive him.

  The thought of going cap in hand to the man stuck in his craw, but he knew it would have to be done however much he hated it. He railed at the fates that dictated she could never be his. Damn the circumstances of his birth! Damn the earl for his arrogance, and damn Madeleine for controlling his heart! And damn the damned horse too for forcing him to go to see the earl on this night, the very worst night of all!

  Thoughts of the ailing horse brought his mind back into focus. What the hell was he doing? Not his job, that was for sure. He had to put everything else from his mind and send one of the lads for help. But who knew more about foaling than he did? No one close enough to make a difference. He had to calm down and think. What did he need to do to save the horse and her foal?

  His mind on other things, he was almost upon the woman before he noticed her. Damn! Was she following him? As if his day could get any worse! Gertrude stared at him as she stood on the path by the vegetable garden. He couldn’t bear the thought of talking to her again, of her brushing against him as they passed on the path. If he let her come anywhere near him, she he would assume the wrong impression. Would take it as encouragement, which was the furthest thing from his mind. It wasn’t as if he hated the woman, but he wished she would take all the hints he had given her. He would never succumb to her advances, but she was so wrapped in her own desires that she had ignored every rebuff. He might have laughed at the irony of it if he hadn’t felt so bad for himself.

  He turned swiftly. Now he would have to go the other way around to get back to the stables. The longer way. Back past the study window. But perhaps that was to his advantage. He could call in on the earl again and make his apology. Ten minutes wasn’t going to make any difference now. And there was not much point in saving the foal if he couldn’t save the mare. Foals rarely survived the first few days without their mother’s milk. He didn’t know why, just knew it was a fact. It was both or neither of them. What could he do to save Milady? He had to think...

  Chapter Two

  An Unexpected Title

  Benjamin Asher Derwent, better known as Ash, stared incredulously at the beautiful facade that faced him. Never had he expected to see such a building from the description Richard Derwent, Fifth Earl of Claiborne had given him. Ash seemed to recall old pile and bit of a ruin being mentioned when they had met in Bath a few years previously. He must have been mistaken, but the trouble was that his mind had been filled with the miniature the older man had shown him, and he had been beyond concentrating on much of the conversation after that.

  One glance at the tiny portrait of the man’s beautiful daughter had quite stolen every rational thought. Ash had kept the image with him ever since and gazed at it probably far more often than he should given that he still desired his former fiancée. His former fiancée, the one who had left him at the altar. Well, not quite at the altar, but close enough. A mere four weeks before their wedding, The day he was meant to become the happiest of men. But she had cried off and ripped out his heart instead.

  He might have contemplated longer on the fickleness of women but the house in his vision forced all thought of anything else from his mind. Ash closed his open mouth as his horse carried him closer to the house. House? If one could call it that. He cast his eyes right and then left. Russet coloured bricks stretched across the lush landscape, complimented by the pale lilac blooms of age old wisterias clinging to the ancient walls. The place was certainly no old pile, and definitely not a ruin.

  For a moment Ash wondered if the Fifth Earl of Claiborne had either suddenly come into money or lied when he had described the hall. Lied most likely, as Ash could detect no new brickwork or recent repairs, though for what reason the man had kept up the deception Ash had no fathomable idea. Perhaps it was a ruse to keep him far from the place. When Ash had once suggested a visit, the earl had immediately refused such an escapade, citing the lack of suitable accommodations and general disrepair. Ash’s own shipping business and the effort of drumming up sufficient funds to renovate his future inheritance kept him from ever enquiring again.

  There was of course the possibility that the earl had managed to keep the exterior of the house intact but the interior in a less than habitable condition, giving the impression of wealth though his true poverty was hidden by the facade. Not an impossible notion. He had one good friend in town who on the exterior appeared to be the epitome of wealth and security. His house looked magnificent. His suits were of the first fashion and his boots from the finest maker in London. Behind his front door, the man cooked for himself in a pot over an open fire. His furniture consisted of two chairs, both with a decided lack of horsehair stuffing, and a three-legged table, the fourth leg having been used one freezing winter’s night, to boost the dwindling fire.

  Thinking of his friend, a sudden, unpleasant thought filled Ash. Perhaps the earl had lied about his daughter too. Was she in reality an aging spinster, greying at the temples and with an already sagging jaw? He hoped not, given his promise to marry the woman. Not that he would be held to it if he really couldn’t stand the sight of her. After his one dreadful experience, marriage had no longer seemed important to him, but over the years his attitude had changed. Yes, he could leave the place to his younger brother, or his nephew, but did he really want to do that? He didn’t know, but the earl’s misleading information about the house gave fodder to his suspicions. Made him feel like turning his horse around and heading straight back in the opposite direction.

  Not that he could now. Shielding his eyes from the sunbeams reflecting off the multitude of windows, he could see that his arrival had clearly been noticed. There was a hubbub going on outside Claiborne’s door.

  He lowered his hand from his eyes and set his shoulders as doves cooed from the cote on the manicured lawn and several servants appeared to bustle about the front door, some of them staring in his direction.

  Good Lord! He felt his eyebrows shoot to the top of his forehead. Could they be waiting for him, about to line up and greet him? They wouldn’t, surely! He could barely think of anything more embarrassing. Panic filled him. Yes, he was well educated and had formed a lucrative business through hard work and careful investments, but a nobleman he was not. Not yet. Still couldn’t believe he was the earl’s heir even now.

  It had been several years since the letter had arrived informing him of his lofty new position in life. Only shortly after his own father had died. Apparently his father’s sudden and unexpected demise after a fall from his horse left Benjamin Asher Derwent the only heir of a distant cousin. A very distant cousin. One more times removed than he cared to count, but even with the solicitor’s letter in his hand the news had still not seemed real until he had met the current earl in the flesh.

  Responding to the request for an immediate audience while on a business trip to Bath, Ash had no idea of what he was about to be asked until the Fifth Earl of Claiborne had suddenly begged him to look after his only daughter. Ash had instantly refused. Not that he would ever see a woman put out on the street, but a suitable cottage would have to be found for the aging spinster. And aging she would have to be going by the earl and his wife’s own advanced years. The daughter must already be well into her thirties, possibly more, and while Ash wasn’t so heartless as to see the woman made homeless, no convention he knew would allow an unrelated man and woman live under th
e same roof without the sanctity of marriage.

  Marriage! Never! Anger had instantly filled him at the memory of Miss Jane Fairbanks, his one time fiancée, and of her parents’ fawning attitude to one of the aristocracy. Damn Arthur Kirkdale, his illustrious title, and his pockets full of gold! The most eligible bachelor of the season, the Duke of Kent, had moved in on Jane, had swept her off her feet and out of Ash’s life. And her parents had let Kirkdale do it. Had even encouraged it. The man had lavished her with gifts and flowers and the woman hadn’t been able to resist. She cried off from her engagement to Ash with a scant four weeks to go, and married Kirkdale instead.

  If the Earl of Claiborne thought Ash wanted an entanglement with another woman any time soon, regardless of age or standing, the man had another think coming. Women were clearly too capricious and far too easily led. Ash didn’t think his heart, or his pride, would ever recover from the rejection. He refused to allow himself to become emotionally involved ever again.

  Excuses had been about to fall from his lips; his aversion to the idea, the impropriety of an unmarried woman living in the house, the impossibility of the situation, the gossip; but when the man’s countess took the locket containing the miniature from her reticule and passed it to him, his words had dried on his tongue. Nothing could have prepared him for the jolt of desire that ripped through him at that first sight of the ravishing and surprisingly young beauty.

  Rich, dark hair falling gently on pale shoulders. A glowing, healthy complexion. Questioning emerald eyes that followed him even from the tiny image. The hint of luscious cleavage not quite hidden by the lace on her white frock. He had immediately assumed that the picture was old, but Richard Derwent had smiled and assured Ash they had it commissioned only the year before while the young woman was at home, holidaying with friends from her finishing school.

  It had taken Ash only a few seconds to realize that the situation had become infinitely worse. He recalled the ensuing conversation with alarming clarity while his heart thudded dully at the thought of what might be coming next.

  “You ask me to look after the girl. Do you expect me to become her guardian? Surely you can see the difficulties. She is clearly of age and would require a live in chaperone. I know no one suitable to remain with her until she marries. Given that you say the hall is in ruins, that might be impossible if there is not enough money for a tempting dowry. And you know what small towns are like. The rumour mills turn hourly more than daily. Gossip would ruin her chances of finding a good and decent husband. Is there no aunt or other relative she can go to?” He didn’t know why he was making so many arguments. Even with her parents facing him, simply staring at the picture of the lovely young woman had his blood pounding through his veins. Most of it pooling where it shouldn’t! He had never felt desire like it in his life.

  The earl clearly hadn’t noticed his heir’s shockingly ill-timed discomfort and simply shook his head as he answered Ash’s question.

  “No, there is no one. My wife and I are both only children and so were our parents. My great, great grandfather and yours were brothers, but they argued over something family history has long forgot, and apparently never spoke to one another again. However, the family line, though tenuous, is still intact and, with your father already dead and there being no other male heirs on my side, you will inherit Claiborne. If there had been anyone closer, we would not be having this conversation.”

  Ash ran his fingers through his already ruffled hair before looking back at the earl. His heart thumped hard inside his chest. An inheritance of any kind was most unexpected. His father certainly hadn’t mentioned the possibility before he died, but after deliberating the distance in the relationship, perhaps he assumed that a male heir would be born in the interim and not have considered the succession at all. Claiborne! It sounded almost exotic as the name rolled off his tongue. Could it be true? Was he really the heir to an estate? Ash’s own home was but a small apartment above his office near the docks. All his wealth was invested in his three ships and whatever cargo they happened to be carrying. But an estate! Land! Possibilities leapt at him though he kept them and his excitement in check.

  “So what do you expect me to do?” Not wishing an early death upon the man in front of him, he hesitated to celebrate his possible good fortune until he had heard everything.

  The earl glanced at his wife before continuing.

  “You must marry our daughter. She is beautiful both inside and out. You would not regret your decision.”

  Ash pressed his lips together for a moment. The earl’s words were not entirely surprising, but with the thought of Jane’s betrayal still leaving its scar on his heart, they were not welcome either.

  “How do you know that my heart is not already engaged elsewhere, or that I might be about to be married.” He recalled the widespread news of the Duke of Kent’s betrothal and subsequent marriage to Miss Jane Fairbanks. Did Richard Derwent know of Ash’s previous involvement with the bride? Would it affect his current position?

  The old earl’s mouth had twitched at the corner.

  “Do you think I haven’t checked? I am scarcely likely to marry off my beloved daughter to someone with a less than sterling reputation, or who already has a fiancée. My man has been following you for weeks and researching your past. You have been single since your fiancée spurned you for Kirkdale six months ago. You are solvent. You neither gamble recklessly, drink to excess, or womanize. You appear to work hard, keep sensible hours and you never thrash your horse. I can think of many a worse fate for my daughter than to marry you.”

  Ash hadn’t known whether to be furious at being followed unknowingly for weeks, or to feel stupid for not having noticed anyone prying into his private affairs. He had been about to voice his disapproval of the earl’s actions when the man’s wife reached out a trembling hand and touched the tips of her fingers to the miniature once again. She smiled lovingly at the picture before raising her eyes to his.

  “Mr. Derwent, please listen before you refuse us. We were blessed when we eventually had our daughter. Madeleine is a truly lovely young woman. She has her own mind and interests galore. She is a little unconventional I’ll grant you and some would call her spoiled, but she is our only child and she has a good heart. I know that you will not be unhappy with her.”

  “Unconventional?” Alarm shot through him as he glanced at the miniature once again. What was hidden behind that hint of a smile and those jewel like eyes? Was there something wrong with the woman? Did she have three legs, a pea for a brain, perhaps a penchant for pickled eggs and beetroot for supper? He suppressed the shudder that rippled through him at the thought of pickled eggs being served to him every evening for the rest of his life, and breathed a sigh of relief when the Countess shook her head quickly.

  “I don’t mean to make her sound anything less than you would expect from the daughter of an earl and his countess, but she is a lot more than a simple ornament to society. She is not one for balls or musicales. She loves riding, being out in the countryside. And she cannot stop herself from helping others. People and animals. Her thoughtfulness knows no bounds; from rescuing abandoned kittens to teaching the staff to read and write. While she dresses well, she barely cares about the fashions, or the latest bland en dit. She prefers being practical and learning of the interesting subjects the library has to offer. She speaks several languages and enjoys discovering new places and things. If letting her pursue these interests makes her unconventional and spoiled then blame us, not her. I cannot bear the thought of such a free spirit being stifled by convention, by a man only interested in himself. Please, Mr. Derwent. There is no one as eligible or as well placed as yourself. She loves her home. Would you see her thrown out of it? Many a marriage has been built on less. I want to know she will be safe and happy. There is not much time left for me, for us.” The woman’s chest heaved with the exertion of her long statement and she leaned against her husband.

  For the first time Ash noticed the pain re
gistering in the creases about the woman’s eyes, the way the earl rubbed his temples as though his head ached more than he could stand. This couple were ill. How long they had, he did not know, but still he hesitated to give a promise he might be unable to keep.

  “But you say that she is still at finishing school. I can hardly marry a school girl.” She certainly doesn’t look like a school girl in that picture. He snapped the miniature in the locket shut, damped down his desire once again and regarded his guests.

  The earl drew in a long, sorrowful breath. He clasped his wife’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

  “Madeleine is almost seventeen and while of an age to marry, we are not ready to see her wed quite yet. My wife might not have long left on this world, but my health is not quite as fragile. There are a few years in me still. We would simply like your agreement to consider the arrangement. It would ease my wife’s mind greatly.”

  Ash nodded slowly in understanding.

  “But what does your daughter have to say about this bargain? Surely she has her own opinions if she is as independent as you say.” The girl would probably want to marry for love and Ash was having none of that. Love was firmly off his agenda.

  Richard Derwent’s jaw wobbled.

  “I confess that we have not discussed it with her, but though she appears headstrong she is a good and sensible girl. She will understand the reasoning behind our choice for her and be happy with anything we arrange.”

  Ash wasn’t so sure this girl was as independent as her parents would have him believe. He didn’t like the thought of a woman with no mind of her own however much her appearance affected him. He tried to dissuade them once more.