In Temptation and Damnation with the Earl: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Violet Hamers

In her dream, she had seen her father again, as she had often since his passing. She clasped a hand to her forehead where beads of sweat had collected. She sobbed, mourning her father in the darkness, as reality finally came crashing down on her.

  She looked down at the work table. The lamp, broken down into its various parts lay on the table. She had pulled it apart, trying to fix the design, and had probably fallen asleep tinkering with it. It didn’t have a name yet. Pa had made a point to name all of his inventions after they were done, but this one had remained unnamed after he passed away. Ariadne couldn’t bring herself to give it a name yet so it remained a nameless project. But it was also the one that had brought her terribly close to success. Just a little while longer—

  She almost heard her father speaking at her ears. “Patience, dearie.” Ariadne looked around herself and then back at the table as determination filled her. Patience.

  Her hands were covered with grease which had smudged all over her dress and probably her hair too. She cleaned her hands on the handkerchief next to her but her fingers still felt sticky.

  Even though it was completely dark inside the room, it was only by design. Dawn had probably broken outside and if Ariadne had managed to sleep in, it was probably far into the morning. George Davy had built this small space himself on an abandoned lot to accommodate the rectangular, darkroom. It was the sanctum of his inventions.

  She walked out of the space where she had been spending most of her waking hours. Ariadne shielded her eyes against the sudden brightness. It was in stark contrast to the darkness she had just emerged from and she didn’t think she would ever get used to it. She put on her bonnet even though her hair was a mess and locked the studio door. She then crossed the street and walked a few paces ahead to the building where she lived. The few people out and about on the streets threw her weird glances as she passed, but Ariadne ignored them. She knew what they thought of her, Mad Davy’s daughter.

  The smell of eggs cooking greeted her as soon as she stepped into her own flat. It was a two-room space, with a small kitchen attached, but also it was her entire world.

  “And finally we see her face,” Leda said, rushing to her with worry on her face. “You’re going to make yourself ill if you push yourself too hard.”

  “Were you there all night?” This was Emma. She was at the small stove, cooking. She looked up as Ariadne entered the kitchen.

  Ariadne rubbed her eyes and yawned in answer. “I got caught up.”

  “You’ve been saying the same thing every day for the last couple of weeks,” Leda pointed out. Leda was Ariadne’s younger sister. At eighteen, she was five years younger than Ariadne and while Ariadne was plain in looks, Leda had grown up to be a beauty.

  Ariadne washed her hands in the basin and took a seat next to her on the kitchen table. It was rickety and shook slightly as she sat down even though she had just fixed the legs last week.

  “We’re out of eggs,” Emma said as she placed their breakfast in front of them. She took the one next to Leda. The last one remained empty. It was her father’s chair, whenever he actually remembered to come to the table to eat. “Can you buy some from the market?”

  “Sure,” Ariadne said. Her stomach churned. Her repository of coins was all but empty.

  “Even last month’s rent is due,” Emma sighed. “And you know how Mrs. Tula can get about it.”

  “I know,” Ariadne said. Neither Emma nor Leda complained but after her father’s death, as his eldest daughter, it had fallen upon her to provide for them.

  Guilt began to gnaw at her. Ariadne cast her eyes to her plate knowing that she couldn’t dwindle anymore. She had to act fast.

  Emma shot her a sympathetic look. “It's all right, dear. We’ll figure out something soon.” Emma had come to live with them a few years after her mother had passed away. She was a lodger in their small home so that it was easier for them to divide the rent between them.

  Leda sighed. “I just wish Pa had left a little more for us.” They had all but used up their father’s small savings. He was the second son of the Earl of Jenson and while he hadn’t lived with his family for a long time, their grandmother had, until her death sent a small amount of money for them to get by. With that they had managed to live a comfortable life so far, even having the privilege to stay in a home that hadn’t fallen to rot yet. But ever since their grandmother died, the funds had stopped coming in.

  “Maybe we can ask our uncle?” Leda asked suddenly. “He could help us.”

  She meant the current Earl of Jenson, their uncle Matthew. Ariadne shook her head. “They don’t consider us family. We don’t exist to them. Not after—” It was an understatement. They hated the very existence of the two sisters and refused to acknowledge them.

  “There’s no harm in asking,” Leda said reluctantly.

  Ariadne shook her head. She wasn’t going to sacrifice everything Pa had built by going to beg from the brother who had been a part of casting his own brother out of High Society. It would be nothing but disrespect to her father’s spirit.

  “Papa wouldn’t want us to go against our principles. Everything else was taken away from him, so pride was all he had left!” Ariadne exclaimed.

  “Papa wouldn’t want us to starve either,” Leda said. Her younger sister was right. She looked up at Ariadne, carefully watching her face. When had she grown up so fast? She was of marriageable age and if things between her father and his family hadn’t fallen apart, she would have made her debut this year. The thought made Ariadne’s heart pang. Her sister deserved better things.

  Ariadne, of course, had no intention of marrying ever. They already thought her queer for following her father’s footsteps. The last thing she needed was for a man to control her life. Her father was the only one who could see through her anyway. No, she would lead her life by her own terms just fine.

  She quickly finished her meal and got up from her seat. “Leda, please fetch my bonnet from my room.”

  “Where are you going?” Leda asked. But she did as Ariadne asked and disappeared into the room the two girls shared.

  Ariadne looked toward the hearth. The dying fireplace barely cast out any heat and Adriane found herself shivering despite the fact that the sun was out outside. It would be worse at night.

  “I’m going to out to earn some coin,” Ariadne said decidedly. She knew it was easier said than done but she had never cowed in front of adversity. She wouldn’t bow to her fate now. She would start small, a few coins at first. Her invention would have to take a backseat for now, to be worked on only at night.

  Emma stood up from her chair. “You’re educated and are well groomed even if you lack the sponsorship and the disposition the society requires. You can easily take up the position of a governess if you so wish.”

  The thought of going to work for a rich Lord had occurred to her several times. But her father had taught her to be self-sufficient, and it was only the thought of him that stopped her from doing so.

  “Lord Brexley is more than generous enough to overlook your mother’s background and place you in a suitable and respectable position in his staff. You should reconsider his offer,” Emma continued.

  Ariadne had known the Earl of Brexley for the last few years. And while the man was just as Emma said, generous and willing enough to employ her under his care, it didn’t matter to Ariadne. She had already said no and she rarely changed her mind.

  He had been to their home just last week, leaving behind a small sack of rice and lentils and promising more if she took him up on his offer.

  “He just sees us as one of his charity cases. Someone who will make him look and feel good,” Ariadne said. “While I do not doubt his good intentions, I simply do not wish to work for him.”

  Emma shook her head. “Maybe it’s time to stop playing inventor.” Her tone was sterner than Ariadne expected and she was almost taken aback by it. “People have begun to talk.”

  “People’s words never mattered to me. They’ve ca
lled me worse, since I was a kid.” Ariadne preferred the company of her father’s tools instead of dresses and dolls. Kids her age laughed at her and this mockery continued well into adulthood. It was both a good thing and a bad. Ariadne had hardened herself to these jibes.

  “Look at yourself. You’re barely a girl anymore. You’re turning more and more into your father every day.”

  “And is it such an awful thing?” she asked. Her voice was soft but Ariadne heard the disappointment loud and clear in her voice.

  “It is when you start forgetting about yourself and others around you.” Even though Emma remained calm, her words hurt Ariadne. “Think about your sister.”

  Ariadne was silent. She was always thinking about Leda. But this thing she had to do for herself. She had expected support from Emma at the least. She had grown to see the woman as a second mother. She had all but brought them up and was always around to help around the house since her mother passed away.

  She started for the door when Emma called out to her. “What are your plans?”

  “I’ll decide on the way,” she replied. That was exactly like her to do this. Jump into an adventure before pondering on it. But more often than not, she succeeded in her endeavors. Maybe that’s why neither Emma nor Leda protested as she left.

  As she was on her way out, she ran into Mrs. Tula. “Are you goin’ somewhere, Ariadne?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Ariadne said warily. She didn’t trust the woman’s thin lips or the way she assessed her shrewdly.

  “I hope it’s to make coins because if you don’t give me the rent within the next two days, I’m afraid I’ll have to throw you and your family out to the streets.”

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Two

  Edward Remington, the Marquess of Whitely and recently nominated MP to the House of Lords stood at the roaring fireplace of his dear friend Charles’ home.

  “Care for whisky?” Charles called behind him as he poured himself the amber liquid in a small glass.

  “Certainly,” Edward replied. He was also his first cousin by birth as their mothers were sisters. The boys had grown up together and had become steadfast friends over the years. Today he was there advising him on the upcoming election for a ticket to the new seat in the House of Commons. His cousin had developed a sudden interest in politics and since he didn’t have an official title bequeathed upon him yet, he would have to fight for his place.

  It was different for Edward. His family had produced outstanding MPs for as long as society could remember. So when Edward’s father had decided to retire, Edward was nominated to replace him by the writ of acceleration.

  “Invited to take the seat by the King himself,” Charles murmured as he took a sip of the amber-colored liquid. Edward didn’t care much for spirits but he partook it in just for his company’s sake. The liquid fogged his mind as he settled back on his plush chair.

  “Is that envy I trace in your voice?”

  “A tad,” Charles said.

  Edward chuckled. While politics was a new whimsy for his cousin, he had been brought up for this his entire life. His father had told him about the members of parliaments in the previous generations, all of who had brought great honor to the family while being part of the changing socio-political landscape of Britain.

  “It’s a great responsibility to be able to mold the very face of our country,” his father, the Duke of Bromswell, always told him. It was his way of reminding Edward that not only was he an heir-apparent to one of the most important dukedoms in the country, but he also had his ancestor’s expectations resting square on his shoulders. And while so far Edward hadn’t brought in any exciting reforms or ideas to the Parliament, he was confident he would soon enough.

  “How’s your betrothed?” Charles asked. He was speaking about Jane, the lady with whom Edward was engaged to be married the following year.

  The truth was that Edward didn’t know her, not truly. His marriage to the daughter of the Viscount of Bynthrope was decided when she was just a babe. It was another clever means to secure a political alliance between the families. It was no different from the marriage of Edward’s parents themselves. Arranged matches like this rarely awakened passion and Edward wasn’t foolish enough to expect or even go looking for love.

  “She’s fine,” Edward replied. He was expected to marry her and he would. He felt nothing for her beyond his obligations to his family. The last time he had seen her was at a family dinner. They had discussed the latest piece of jewelry and a hat that she had bought at the King’s market. The conversation had been exceedingly boring, partly because he had no idea about women’s fashion and she had no apparent interest in politics. And at eighteen, Edward felt she was much too young for him. But he would never voice these thoughts aloud. She was a Viscount’s daughter and would make a fine duchess and an MP’s wife.

  “I met with the King during the last session. Next time I see him, I’ll put in a good word for you,” Edward said, steering the conversation back to things that were of concern to him. He imagined the King had been much impressed with his vocational theories and had even invited him to summarize at the next session of the Parliament. That was a great honor, one that had pleased his father too.

  “Thank you, cousin,” Charles said gracefully. “That means a lot to me.”

  “Meanwhile we put together your political alliance. You’ll have my support, of course, and our friends at the Gentleman’s Club can be counted in as well.”

  “That’s all very well, but I want more than that. I want to appeal to the masses. My ticket is from the House of Commons, not the Lords.”

  Edward brushed away his cousin’s concern. “That wouldn’t matter once you have enough influential backing.”

  Charles still didn’t look convinced.

  “Save what we shall discuss this elaborately tomorrow night at the Gentleman’s Club. You’ll have a clearer perspective once you talk to some of the other members of the House,” Edward said.

  “Men, who spend most of their days away in vice and then show up at the Parliament barely coherent?”

  Edward cleared his throat. While he had his thoughts about such incompetent nincompoops, this was the King’s business. It was, after all, he who decided who would get to sit on the Parliament and who wouldn’t. He didn’t want any conflict with him.

  “What about Mr. Kent? He is a business shop owner who won the ticket from Trentdike to the House of Commons last year. I wish to speak with him too,” Charles said. “He’s a fine fellow.”

  “He’s not a Lord,” Edward objected. “What solution might he have to give for this? If you hope to win the seat at the Commons, you will need the help of house titles, not a common man.”

  “He has worked with people, for people. I have much to learn from him.”

  His popularity is the sole reason why he won the seat. I don’t see any reason why he should even be there.”

  “By your logic, you’re in no position to hold the seat either.”

  Edward maintained his composure and said, “You’re forgetting who I am, where I come from.”

  “On the contrary, I haven’t at all,” Charles said. “You’re the future Duke of Bromswell. You’re expected to be on the Parliament and that is that. What if your grandfather hadn’t held the seat or his father before him?”

  “Someone needs to fight for this country. Someone needs to make the decisions on behalf of the uneducated masses who might do more harm to themselves than good if left to their wits.”

  “And that someone is you?”

  “Why not? I had the finest tutors growing up. I’ve studied mathematics and literature both at Eton that makes me exceedingly qualified over my peers. I know every law practiced in this country by rote.”

  “And do you know of the injustice?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Edward asked, frowning.

  Charles fixed his gaze on him. “You’re a Lord. What you experience is limited. What do you know outside of your peer
age?”

  Edward pulled himself out of the chair and paced the room. “Do you remember the workers’ protest last week? It was abhorrent. Think of the things they might do if left to themselves. They might very well burn this city down.”

  “While I admit the protest itself was of a vile nature, they surely had a few ideas.”

  “Exactly!” Edward said. “And those are precisely the ideas that will destroy them and everything this country stands for.” Edward wasn’t one of those fanatic Catholics who voted for religious supremacy in Parliament. He wanted nothing to do with those zealots. He knew people had the choices but needed to make informed ones. That’s where he and the rest of the Parliament came in. But his thoughts on women and other sensitive issues like class distinctions tended to be more on the conservative side and he didn’t see anything wrong in that.

  “Have you ever been out of London? And no—I don’t mean your country estate. Have you been to the Continent or even just the slums fringing the main streets of London?”

  “No,” Edward admitted.

  “Then what gives you the right or the motive to decide for these people?” Charles asked, making a sweeping motion with his hand.

  “My birthright,” Edward said simply.

  “That is a weak argument,” Charles said. Edward knew it too so he fell silent. He wanted to do well for the masses, but it had never occurred to him to go out there and meet them. He had just assumed that they would be fine with the decisions made in the Parliament. The King had the best interests of his subjects after all.

  “All right, cousin,” Edward said. “I’ll take your leave now.”

  Charles stood up from his chair, looking at his childhood friend. “Did I offend you?”

  “Not at all. It will take more than that to crack through our veneer of friendship. Besides, I enjoy these debates with you. It has given me much to think about.”

  And it had indeed. As he entered his carriage and instructed his footman to drive him home, Edward couldn’t stop thinking about what his cousin had said. Had he really hidden away behind his privilege for so long and that had, in turn, muddied his perspectives? He was a politician and it wouldn’t do to think of his own gains. He was to remain neutral without his upbringing coloring his view of the world.