“Nonsense. To hear of this provides a sense of closure.” And good riddance, she thought to herself. She hated to feel uncharitable toward anyone, but she felt only hatred for her uncle and all he had cost her. Her hand subconsciously touched her stomach.
“That is all the news I have, so I will take my leave. I wanted to make sure you heard it as soon as they announced it. I realize with your lordship’s connections you could already know, but selfishly, I wanted to tell you. It gives me closure too.” Nizal washed down the rest of his scone with his tea and stood to leave.
“Thank you very much. We appreciate the work you did for our family. I insist that you send your bill to me.” Max walked Nizal to the front door.
While he waited for Max to return, Harlow poured himself a glass of brandy and considered her, a smile on his face.
“You have this glow about you, Lady Worsley.” He grinned.
Oh goodness! He knows too. She struggled for a reply. “It is the weather. I enjoy the new birth of spring each year.”
Harlow held his smug expression. “Yes. The new birth.” He sipped, giving a look of nonchalance.
The two men acted more like brothers than friends. She was growing accustomed to Harlow’s teasing and refused to spill the beans to him. She would not spoil this news for Max, who returned not a moment too soon.
“We have news too, my dear.” He moved to his wife and kissed her on the cheek. “Your cousin, Slade—I am sorry, Nash—has accepted Harlow’s offer.” Max nodded to his friend. “And ours. He will live on your family’s estate and run it as its man of business under the tutelage of Harlow’s man, Dean. I expect Nash to be a fast learner. He has already exhibited a great eye for horseflesh and asked if he could expand the stables there. What do you think?”
“I think yes!” She clapped enthusiastically. “I do not agree with the way the ton treats children born on the wrong side of the blanket. Their burden is not of their making. Slade—Nash…” She sputtered. It would be difficult calling him by his given name, especially since she had lived in fear of him in her prior life—but not through his making, as she had gradually realized. “Nash needs an opportunity to prove himself, and he needs and wants a family. I believe he has earned it. Father tried to support him, and I feel we honor my family in helping him. And Nash is trying to be our friend.” A sense of peace fell over her as she said that aloud.
“There is more.” He grinned and went to his desk, digging out the ring of keys. He held up a small brass key. “Harlow and I went through the house and tried the keys on everything we found, and this one belongs to a small safe your father kept in the floor of his library.”
Maggie was astonished. “I never knew he had one.”
“He did. I wondered where he kept his other important papers and the family jewelry. I thought either it had all disappeared with Silas, or that your father had a place that was very sacred. It was under his desk.” He reached into his waistcoat and brought out a string of pearls and small diamonds. “Your mother’s.”
“Those were my mother’s favorite. They were a gift from Father when he found he would be a father for the first time.” Excitement stirred in her stomach as she comprehended the uncanny timing.
“They suit you.” Max smiled.
Maggie held up her hair, and he gingerly placed the string around her neck.
“It looks lovely. I am sure your mother would want you to have it. I secured the rest in my safe. We can look through it together whenever you would like. Silas may have taken what he found in the open, but your parents kept what looks like most of the jewelry and estate information under lock and key. Remember the birth certificate we found? I had it authenticated. Of course, it was Nash’s. I hope you do not mind, but we returned it to the hidden wall safe for Nash’s use. However, it is without your father’s lockbox. Nash never knew his actual birthday. He was quite pleased to know it.”
“That was thoughtful of you. My father left a bounty of surprises, it seems. I remember Mother wearing these often. She told me it would be mine one day.” Her voice cracked with emotion as she touched the delicate necklace.
“We believe the third key unlocks a lockbox and will check with your father’s man of business. It looks much like a key I have for that purpose.”
“This is a lot to take in at once, but it is good news. I am happy for Nash.” She looked at both men in front of her, gauging her timing. Should she wait? “I will share some news of my own,” she decided, suddenly challenged by the smirk Harlow cast at her when Max could not see. “Since Harlow is like family…”
“Wait. Let me take my leave. This sounds like it should be private. I feel a sense of déjà vu and do not want to intrude on what should be private.” Harlow moved to her side and kissed the back of her hand before leaving. “Congratulations, I think,” he whispered for her alone and left.
Cheeky devil! She took a calming breath and steadied herself. If Harlow knows, Max knows. Warmth flushed through her. Max was staring at her, grinning like the cat that just swallowed the canary. The man might keep silent, but he could never control his delight. She cleared her throat. “Do you think the name Nathan fits with Worsley?” she ventured nonchalantly.
“Are you saying you are with child?” Max’s voice choked with emotion.
She swatted him. “You know I am. You cannot fool me with that innocent look. I am.” Tears suddenly flooded her eyes. “You will be a father in six months.”
There! That took his breath away. At least there was some surprise, she thought smugly.
“I will be a father!” He swept her off her feet and swung her around. “I love you, Meg Worsley, my sweet, beautiful wife. And I do like the name Nathan. Darling, we will name the child anything you would like. I just want both mother and child to have a safe delivery.”
“You knew. Be honest.”
“I suspected,” he clarified. “I have memorized every loving detail of your body, my dearest.” His seductive smile sent delightful tremors to the core of her body as he slowly backed her to the window seat. “This child will know nothing but love. I promise.”
Maggie reached up and pulled the curtains nearest to her closed. “I love you, Max. I will never tire of telling you that…and I will never tire of this.” She giggled.
Max pulled the other curtain shut and leaned into her, covering her body with his own. “I feel sure that Harlow asked Cabot to keep anyone from the room as he left, so let us pick up where we left off last evening.”
* * *
Thank you so much for reading The Earl She Left Behind! But wait. Can I tempt you with a wicked earl?
Turn the page and read the first chapter of the Earl of Bergen.
IMPORTANT author’s note on Earl of Bergen: British spellings and grammar have been used in this book in an effort to reflect the time period it portrays and in an effort to bring historical accuracy, while maintaining readability. For example: traveling is travelling and favor is favour.
Preview of Earl of Bergen
Chapter One
* * *
Stony Stratford, England
1817
Deuced tired of travelling in the freezing wet weather, Lord Thomas Bergen urged his horse onto High Street in the direction of one of the baiting houses. The journey home had been especially tedious this time, thanks to the nasty weather. He should have expected it, so close to Christmas. It was lucky that it had not started snowing. The skies seemed to threaten that very misfortune.
His horse stopped, prompting him to make a choice. “You know me too well, my girl.” He sniggered and patted her neck. The two inns he patronized stood almost next door to each other—both offered pleasurable entertainment and a hearty meal; he had enjoyed many a good time at both.
Noise accompanied a couple of over-served men as they were tossed through the door of the Bull Inn into the road in front of him, thus making his decision for him.
“Ah…the Bull Inn seems to be lively tonight. ’Tis exceedingly te
mpting, but somewhat more than I am ready to take on tonight.” He laughed out loud, as if conversing with his mare. “It will be the Cock Inn for me this night, Merry.” With that, he patted his horse and nudged her towards a post outside the inn. At his approach, a young ostler straightened from a position against the wall and he handed the reins over. Fishing in his waistcoat pocket, Bergen withdrew a shilling for the groom. “Take good care of Merry, and I will match this in the morning. What is your name, lad?”
“Perry, my lord,” the young man answered, taking the proffered reins. “I’ll do an especially fine job with her—I’ll rub her down, and feed her, and I’ll make sure she gets a warm blanket.”
Bergen chuckled. “I’m sure you will. Is there anyone here who could check her shoes? We stumbled over a rut in the road a few miles ago, and I noticed her gait was uneven for a while afterward. She may need a hind one replaced or tightened.”
“Certainly, my lord. Smitty is still here and will be happy to look her over for you.”
“Thank you, lad. Merry will give you no trouble.” He patted his dappled grey mare and grabbed his saddle-bag. He had thought the journey would take only a day, but the weather had considerably mired the road. A good night’s sleep for both of them would be just the ticket.
Loud music, raucous singing and the smell of mutton assailed him upon entering the inn. His stomach reacted quickly, growling loudly. Yes, I will feel better shortly, he thought to himself. A hearty meal and a good night’s sleep would feel wonderful.
The innkeeper and his wife—a short round man and an almost matching woman—greeted him. “Good evening, my lord. How can we serve ye?”
“I need a room and a good meal.” Bergen smiled in anticipation.
“Do ye think ye be staying more than a night?”
“Just tonight, thank you.” Bergen looked towards the tap-room and surveyed the merriment. It would be the wee hours of the morning before that settled down. “Do you have a room available which is not over the main room down here?”
“Certainly, we do, my lord. Would ye like your meal and a hot bath brought up for ye, my lord?” the missus asked. Without giving him a moment to respond, she continued, “We be serving lamb stew and I made fruit cake special for tonight. ’Tis the Christmas season, after all, and we are starting to do some of our cooking. Lamb be my husband’s favourite dish, isn’t that right, William?” She gently nudged him with her elbow.
The innkeeper started. “Yes, yes, dearest wife.” He coughed and stood straighter. “Lord Bergen, it is good to see ye. It has been too long.”
“Thank you. It is good to see you and your wife looking so well.” He smiled at the wife. “And lamb is also my favourite dish, so ’tis a lucky thing for me that I stopped here this night.” The innkeeper’s wife smiled broadly at his remarks.
“Did Lord Weston come with ye?” The innkeeper walked to the door and glanced out.
“No, Lord Weston is not with me on this occasion.” Bergen was not sure where this was going but appreciated that the man seemed to like both Edward and him. Maybe the room would be decent. The last time they had stayed here there had been live female entertainment…all night. A smile tugged at his mouth at the memory. The girl had been a pretty one—he could not recall her name, but he could easily recollect the low cut of her gown.
“Yes, well, Lord Weston is probably just returning from his honeymoon.” He glanced down at his muddy boots and frowned. “I am making a bit of a mess in the entrance, here. A bath would be most welcome, thank you. I will then take my meal in the private dining room, providing there is a table available.”
“Oh, yes, my lord. There is a table available in our private parlour. Ye will not have to suffer the insolence of those in the tap-room. My missus will show ye to your room.”
A tub of hot water was just what he needed, he thought, as he undressed in the quiet room overlooking the coach-house. It was a simple room—single bed, a wooden stand with a sink and a chair. A large single-sash curtained window was on the wall next to the bed. The dark shabby grey curtains did not add much ambiance to the room. There was a full moon out tonight and the light of the moon would be preferable to the darkness of the room, he thought. He wished he had thought to open them before settling into the tub. The innkeeper’s wife had thoughtfully sent him sandalwood soap with the clean towels. He eased further down into the water and closed his eyes, happy to empty his mind of all thoughts. Before many minutes had passed, however, loud female and male laughter, accompanied by raucous singing, drifted in through the window, which he suddenly realized was cracked open behind that set of shabby grey curtains. He sunk further into the warm tub and found himself following a strange conversation. He could smell the smoke from a campfire and imagined that there must be one in a clearing in the wood behind the inn. I will look when I finish my bath. The voices were carrying clearly on the night air, despite the distance.
“I swear, ’tis that cursed donkey. Ever since we picked him up, bad things have happened. He goes no further,” a deep male voice bellowed above the laughter.
“You’re just blaming your shortcomings on the donkey. He isn’t to blame for your inadequacy,” a female responded with a loud cackle.
“Woman, I’m done with you. Leave me. Go mind the children. You know what I am talking about. I have not been able to sell a single horse; and I am not the only one who is noticing the bad luck. That donkey is cursed and he’s spreading it among us.”
“The donkey is a baby.”
“Oh, for God’s sake! We got him and we lost the horses we were going to trade. His braying and…singing scared them off.” A loud mimic of a donkey braying to ‘Rock-a-bye baby’ followed. Loud laughter erupted.
“I ’ave never seen a singing donkey before,” a loud husky voice added with a hoot. “The women love him.”
“The amulet around his neck is evil. I tell you, the donkey is cursed,” the deep male voice thundered.
“Well, the horses did disappear, but that was because the gate was left open. Donkey had nothing to do with…”
“What are you talking about? We never leave the gates open. Never. I do not care…that thing around his neck…has magic. He is cursed. We leave him. That is the end of this discussion.”
Bergen could hear female voices speaking in a soothing and sing-song fashion yet could not make out anything else beyond their laughter. His bath water had grown cold, so he rinsed his face and stood up. The stream of cold night air that had offered him so much entertainment moments ago, now created almost quaking shivers. Quickly, Bergen dried himself on a towel and dressed. He needed his dinner. A singing donkey? A cursed singing donkey? What do these people drink? He needed some of that, he mused, as the foolish questions formed in his head, and then…a good night’s sleep. He went to shut the window when a soft singing captured his attention. Instead, he pulled a frayed cane chair from beside the door to the window and doused his light, and instantly found himself drawn to the fire-lit images of eight women dancing provocatively around a camp-fire. Damn it! I wish I had ordered my meal up here, after all.
The moon gave just enough light to make out the details of their lithe bodies. The gypsies were obviously enjoying themselves. No one seemed to care that they were camping so close to a building, which gave him more time to observe. With a laugh, he slouched to a comfortable sitting position. By George, I never thought I would be a Peeping Tom, but I cannot ignore the allure of their exotic…dance. In spite of the distraction, though, before long he was losing the battle with his eyelids.
A bright, rising sun woke him, and he found himself slumped in the chair. The room was freezing cold, owed to the window still open. Laughing to himself at his predicament, he tried to stand, pushing through the aches and pains of an acquired stiff back, so he stood and stretched. When was the last time I slept in a chair? He surveyed his clothing and decided to do his best to freshen before breakfast. As quickly as he could, he poured water in a bowl and cleaned up. He laughed
out loud thinking of what his valet would say if he could see him trying to tie a fashionable knot with his cravat, until he gave up and made some sort of tied bow. His stomach was rumbling loudly as he hurried down to the dining room to break his fast.
An hour later, Perry was brushing Merry when Bergen arrived at the stables ready to leave. Merry looked rested enough.
“Thank you, lad.” Bergen nodded and when his mare was saddled, passed the ostler two more shillings before riding away in the direction of London. He needed to be there by tomorrow for he had promised Aunt Faith he would be there. Otherwise, he would have stayed here an extra day. Stony Stratford always held a good time. Besides, the Season would be long and dreary without his friends. They had all fallen into parson’s mousetrap. He still could not believe Edward was married. It had been an inn like this where they had first seen the young woman who would become his friend’s wife—Miss Hattie. Her cursing parrot had certainly been refreshing. Yet once the popinjay had set his sights on Edward, there had been nothing else for it. The very thought filled Bergen with mirth. Bound and determined, the bird had been, to have them both.
A loud braying caught his attention as he rounded the bend out of town. Merry jerked in distaste.
“Steady, girl. What have we here?” A small grey donkey was braying loudly and kicking up his heels, unable to free himself from ropes tying him to a large mulberry bush. His thrashing had torn off limbs, but not the core of the bush, where the ropes were secured.
Bergen slid from his horse. “Just a minute, little fellow.” He tried to sort out the muddle of rope and branch that the donkey had created. “You must be the little donkey I heard about last night. I recall they said you were cursed.”
The Earl She Left Behind (The Noble Hearts Series; Common Elements #1) Page 12
