How to Catch an Earl with Ten Lies: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Patricia Haverton

  “Pluck, but not always wit, dear boy. There is one more thing that you should know.”

  “What might that be?”

  “There is a good chance that Lord Steelfrost is in some way connected to your parents’ death.”

  “So I have heard. But what do you know? I thought you had decided that passing information was too risky a business.”

  “I hear things from time to time, and I would sometimes pass what I knew to your father. Children do chatter. But I have never sold information, not in the way that I was accused.”

  “I am glad to hear that,” Benjamin said with some asperity, “Considering that defending your virtue cost me nine years in exile.”

  “I am so sorry, Benjamin,” she said. “But there was Florence to consider. How could I leave her to his mercies?”

  Benjamin took a quick step towards Cynthia, his hands clenched by his side, his body rigid with the effort to keep himself under control. “You know . . . you knew, why she was angry?”

  Cynthia took an involuntary step back. “Yes, I knew. Steelfrost claimed that you were part of my ‘spy ring’. He was using idle chatter, things she had told him in confidence, to frame you. I think she believed him.”

  “And you are just now telling me?”

  “It could only have caused harm, after you had dueled with him, Benjamin. I was so sorry, so very sorry to learn of Florence’s death. And it is too late now to examine her riding gear.”

  “What are you saying, Cynthia? That her death was not an accident?”

  “I am saying that you need to be careful, Lord Newhorn. Your position is fraught with danger, and there is danger to anyone near to you.”

  “You think I should not wed?”

  “I have not said that, dear boy. I know the conditions that are in your father’s will. It is all over town. The gossip vine cannot spread the word fast enough that you must wed.”

  Benjamin shut down his emotions, shuttered himself against what he was hearing. “Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Albright. I appreciate that you have thought of me.”

  Cynthia Albright assessed her audience. Her face was likewise politely withdrawn. “Well, I have told you what needed to be said. I need to be back before my girls discover a way to put salt in the sugar bowls or frogs in the chamber pots. Do be careful, Benjamin. I would not like to read in the paper that Steelfrost had prevailed against you.”

  “I shall keep it in mind. But pray do not concern yourself for me, Cynthia. Do you need a carriage back to the school?”

  “No, no. I had my driver pull my carriage around the block. He should be coming around for the second time about now.”

  “Very well. I shall see you out. I appreciate the notice that Steelfrost is up to his old tricks again, as well as letting me know that I was an uninformed ass.”

  “Watch your back, Benjamin. I do not want to read in the paper that you were fished up out of the Thames or admitted to Bedlam on some spurious charge.”

  “I do not think I would enjoy either of those fates, so I will do my best to avoid them.”

  Cynthia Linguere Albright accepted her umbrella from Grantham and stepped out into the steady downpour. A footman, whose hair was quickly becoming plastered to his head, let down the steps to the carriage and opened the door for her. Once it was closed behind her, he swung up into the sheltered alcove on the back of the carriage. The driver whipped up the horses and drove away down the flooded cobblestone street.

  Benjamin looked after her thoughtfully. “Grantham, I think I shall call on my man of business and my solicitor today. Will you please send a note around to Castlemount house to say that I will not be able to wait on them as planned?”

  “Of course, My Lord. Any particular wording?”

  “No. Wait. In fact, I will pen it myself. Do have the footman who delivers it take care that it does not get wet.”

  “I shall send it in an oiled mail bag, My Lord. Will there be anything else?”

  “Send for a hack. I do not want any of my cattle standing about in this wet. I’ll take dinner at my club, and am not likely to be in until late.”

  “Very good, My Lord. It shall be as you say.”

  Chapter 13

  The next day dawned bright and sunny. Penelope rose, full of hope and determination. Today, she would confront Lord Newhorn and learn more about him. She would investigate this insouciant cousin of the indubitable Lola, and she would have a long, long talk with her uncle.

  As it happened, it was her uncle who was first available for he met her at the breakfast table. “Good morning, Penelope. Is your sister up and about?”

  “No, Uncle. She is still abed. Shall I send for her?”

  “No, no. I ran into Lord Newhorn yesterday. He was full of praise for her. It gives me hope that we can make a good match for her.”

  Penelope felt a cold shiver run down her back. “Uncle, are you sure this is a good match? Rumor has it that Lord Newhorn was forced to flee to the continent nine years ago because he wounded an important man during a duel.”

  “Well, Penny, that is true. It was a matter of honor, and he rose to it.”

  “Over a married woman?”

  “No, I don’t believe so. I think she was a dancer, actually. I am uncertain of the full particulars, but it seems that this other peer was poaching Newhorn’s territory and he objected.”

  “What a dreadful thing to say, Uncle Horace. Surely no lady of any social standing wishes to be thought of as ‘territory.’”

  Horace Chapman brought his breakfast plate to the table that was laid for three. “Do come sit down, Penelope. I can see that you are in high dudgeon over this. But before you go flying off into some sort of rash start, there are some things that you need to know.”

  Penelope brought her own plate to the breakfast table and sat across from her uncle. “What sorts of things, Uncle Horace?”

  “First of all, you might not be aware that when your parents were drowned, the estates were deeply encumbered. I inherited the title, the lands, and a great deal of debt. Your father was a very good man, but he had little head for business.”

  “But you’ve never said anything about any of this.”

  “Why should I? My duty was clear. You were six years of age, and your sister was three. My own sweetheart died of consumption about the time that you were born. The two of you, my goddaughters and nieces, are all the family I have ever had. Indeed, you are all the family I want.”

  “Oh, Uncle Horace! You could still easily find a wife and start a family of your own.”

  Her uncle shook his head. “Priscilla was the love of my life, and I cannot imagine being with another. Besides, who would want such a grizzled old man such as myself?”

  “Oh, Uncle! You are not so old or unattractive as all that. Plus, you have a title, and you know all about managing the lands.”

  “My dear, you still have not thought this through. While I value you and your sister as if you were my own, a wife of mine might not consider you in the same light. Moreover, should I have a boy, then his claims would supersede any that you might have on the estate.”

  “Of course, that is only to be expected.”

  “Penelope, the best solution for both you and your sister is for you both to make good marriages.”

  “I understand that, Uncle Horace. But does it need to happen right away?”

  “There is some urgency. My physician tells me that I am far too stout and should eat fewer eggs, less beef, and more vegetables. He also tells me that he has some sort of wonder elixir that will make a young man of me.”

  “So, do you plan to heed his advice?”

  Viscount Castlemount laughed. “My very dear Penelope, one of my old cronies last year was given exactly the same advice. He changed over to a diet of oatmeal, bean porridge, and some sort of juice concoction. He was dead before the year was out. If it is my time, I would just as soon enjoy such pleasures as are left to me.” With that, he took a hearty bite of beef, chewed, and
washed it down with a draft of burgundy.

  “But Uncle . . .” Penelope began.

  “No, no, my dear,” her uncle waved his fork in admonishment. “I have lived this long on the advice of my old nanny who used to say one should feed a cold, hunger a fever, and place no faith in physicians.”

  “And what happened to her?” Penelope asked.

  “She lived to be ninety and three years of age, hale and hearty as could be—as I am sure you well know. Quite the redoubtable old soul.” The viscount took a large helping of eggs scrambled with bits of bacon.

  Penelope watched her uncle tuck a napkin over his cravat and begin inhaling the mountainous heap of food.

  “Uncle, about Lord Newhorn. . . .”

  “Penny, I will not hear it. You have turned down every eligible bachelor I have introduced to you, and a few more besides. You do not lack for beauty or intelligence, but you have certainly crippled your own future. Please do not repeat the mistake by sinking your sister’s as well.”

  With that, her uncle stood up, placed his dirty dishes in the tub conveniently standing at the end of the sideboard to receive them and left the room. Penelope stared after him in dismay.

  Now what should I do? I’ve upset Uncle, and Edith has been going about with a young man behind my back. We’ve always depended on Uncle Horace. Whatever could we possibly do without him?

  Suddenly, Penelope’s breakfast was far less appealing. She threw down her napkin, and without even stopping to put on her hat or say a word to anyone, she nearly bolted out the front door, and ran down the steps.

  There were a few people on the street, so Penelope slowed her pace to a fast walk, heading directly for the park. Her thoughts were a complete jumble, and she felt as if she could not even catch her breath. She’d had no idea that Uncle Horace was so frustrated with her repeated refusals of the suitors he brought to her attention.

  And Edith. Of all the freakish starts, why had she chosen now to discover this most unsuitable young man? Why, oh, why had she ever agreed to impersonate the little wretch? Perhaps meeting with and speaking to a man of substance would have put the law clerk completely out of her mind!

  But no. Penelope knew better than that. This strange young man would now have a hold on Edith’s affections. Just the idea that he was struggling would be enough, for while her gentle sister had a hard time engaging in drawing room social chatter, there was scarcely a street urchin between the townhouse and market that did not know her for a soft touch. It had reached such a point that their uncle had put her on a strict allowance.

  A law clerk, apprenticing at his father’s firm! How could she! What kind of future would that be for either of them? The clerk would soon come to resent Edith, Penelope was sure. And no doubt Edith, who had never known want in her life, would quickly tire of the frugal life that would be required of her.

  Penelope wanted to lash out at the world. She wanted to scream in frustration. She wanted . . . Oh, she did not know what she wanted. She rounded the corner and entered the park. As soon as she was out of sight of the street and onto the footpath through the park, she picked up her skirts and ran.

  Running was something Penelope had always loved. While not in the least decorous, she had always liked the way the wind rushed by her face, the way her feet pounded on the earth, the way her breath heaved in and out of her chest.

  I will run until I do not feel, do not think. I will run, and I will leave this all behind me. I can run, I can run, I can run! The words suited the cadence of her feet. Penelope ran until she was quite out of wind and had a stitch in her side, then she slowed and walked.

  Whatever am I going to do? How can I find a way to relieve Uncle Horace and keep my sister safe? And how dare he think that I should marry any of those . . . Penelope could not think of a word strong enough for her erstwhile suitors.

  Penelope splashed through the puddles left from the previous night’s rain, striding along as if she could walk out all her doubts and fears.

  Chapter 14

  Benjamin awoke with a strong sense of uncertainty. His man of business had not had good news for him. The Exchange was undergoing some degree of uncertainty. His solicitor had wanted to know if he had found a wife yet. These things, coupled with the visit from Mrs. Albright, nee Linguere, had left him with a very unsettled feeling.

  Fortunately, the day was bright. Even filtered through the watery old glass that covered the windows of his room, the sunshine lifted his spirits.

  In the name of continuing the good feelings, he ordered up a bath. Standing in the wooden tub before the modest blaze in his bedroom hearth, Benjamin reveled in the feel of the hot water as Simmons poured it over him by the pitcher.

  Refreshed and dressed impeccably in morning walking costume, he partook of a light breakfast of buttered rolls and tea, then picked up his cane from the umbrella stand and strolled out into the sunshine.

  He had no particular plans for the day, so he set off toward the park where he had met with Miss Chapman two days ago. Perhaps a brisk walk would dispel the last of the blue devils conjured up by Mrs. Albright’s visit.

  What at extremely pleasant young woman Miss Chapman was! Could there be just a chance that matrimony with her would not be unpleasant? He thought for a moment of Cynthia Albright’s warning. No, she was just jealous, he decided. Not to be wondered at, for he had been most particular in his attentions before he left England.

  As he tapped his way down the carefully raked path in the park, he twirled his cane in his fingers, before setting it back to the ground. Yes, it was a very fine morning indeed.

  The day took an even better turn when Benjamin spotted the very person he had hoped to see striding toward him with fine disregard for how the hem of her gown dragged in the mud puddles.

  “Miss Chapman!” He called out.

  Miss Chapman’s head came up. She looked a bit disoriented, then, looking around, she spotted him and continued walking in his direction with all the purposeful animation of a determined draft horse.

  “Oh! Lord Newhorn!” she exclaimed as she came up to him. “I had no idea you would be here today.”

  “Nor I, you,” he replied. “Although I will admit that I did hope.” Then he looked around. “Where is your footman? Your maid?”

  “I slipped out without them. I needed some air. Sometimes family can be so...so…infuriating!”

  “They can be,” Benjamin agreed. “But I fear that we seldom value them as we should until they are no longer with us.”

  “Oh! I am so sorry, Lord Newhorn. I did not mean to cause you grief.”

  “No, no. It is quite all right. Family can give one more aggravation than the worse enemy, I do declare. Would it help to share?”

  “Oh, dear. I don’t know. My head is all a-muddle.”

  “You’ve come out without any refreshments, and the ground is far too wet to sit on. But there is a street cafe not far from here. Could I offer you some luncheon?”

  “Why . . . I’m not hungry. I’m too upset to be hungry.”

  “Perhaps some tea, then,” Benjamin coaxed. “Truly, Miss Chapman, I can see that you are quite overset. Let me return the hospitality that you showed to me. There is a secluded nook at the café, and the proprietor’s wife can serve as chaperone. The venue is unexceptional, I promise.”

  “Very well. I could use something to drink. Oh, dear! I fear I am quite a mess.” Miss Chapman surveyed the muddy hem of her gown.

  “Nothing to worry about. The tables are outside, and the servers will come to us.” Benjamin offered Miss Chapman his arm.

  Hesitantly she rested her hand atop his, as if preparing to dance. “Thank you. I will admit that I was not thinking clearly when I left the house.”

  With her other hand, Miss Chapman gathered her skirts, and held them up out of the mud.

  Benjamin was relieved to discover that the little cafe where he had often taken afternoon refreshment with his mother was still there. He ordered refreshments, then turned his
attention to Miss Chapman’s clearly agitated state of mind.

  “Now, please tell me, Miss Chapman, what has you in such a taking on what is clearly a fine day?”

  “Oh, dear.” Miss Chapman removed her damp and somewhat muddy gloves, then rubbed her hands across her face. “It will probably seem very foolish to you.”

  “The things that put us into great distress often seem foolish to others.”

  Just then the waiter brought a tray laden with a pot of tea, two cups, sweet cream for the tea, sugar, scones, and the clotted cream for the scones. It took him a few moments to lay it all out for them. Then, he bowed with a flourish, and went away to leave them to enjoy their repast in the spring sunshine.