The Beauty and the Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hamilton, Hanna

  The sharp crack of Whitstone’s neck snapping resonated through the tent. Staring in shock, Cornel watched as Archie casually let his friend’s lifeless body slide to the floor. In a very un-Archie like gesture, he spat on Whitstone’s corpse. “Think you can take my lady from me?” he snarled, then kicked the body in contempt for good measure.

  “Archie.”

  Crying with relief, with no little triumph, Cornelia dashed into his arms. “I was so afraid he would kill you.”

  Archie’s arms held her tight, his body shaking as he burst into raucous laughter. “Him? Kill me? He’s nothing but a worthless coward.”

  Sniffling back her tears, choking on her own near hysterical laughter, Cornelia pushed him away enough to gaze up at him. “Even a coward can be dangerous.”

  “I told you I am not defenseless.” Archie grinned down at her, stroking her hair back from her face. “All I needed was for you to give me my opening.”

  “You knew I would.”

  “Of course I did. My fierce and fearless angel. I was waiting for you to make your move. And you delivered right on time.”

  Wiping the tears from her face, Cornelia gazed at the two dead men and one unconscious one, then glanced at Mortimer and the footman, still cowering in his corner. “What will happen to them?” she asked.

  Archie eyed the hunchback and the other man. “That man in my livery is Thomas, Richard’s steward. As for their fate, that’s for the courts to decide. Latham, take them into custody.”

  Archie led her from the tent, his arm around her shoulders, obviously not caring about the mercenaries watching them from their horses. One, wearing a huge black beard, stepped forward and bowed. “What are your orders, My Lord?”

  “Help Mr. North with the prisoners. Then you and your men will escort my lady and I home.”

  Epilogue

  Her persistent headache from Thomas’s cudgel finally faded, but Cornelia hardly noticed. She fretted and worried, despite reassurances from Mr. North and Mr. Saxon that Archie would be all right. Every time she knocked on the door to his chambers, she received the same answer from Jonas – Archie did not want to see anyone.

  “He’s grieving, Miss Hill,” Mr. North told her gently. “His best friend betrayed him, was a criminal and tried to not just kill him, but take you from him as well.”

  Cornelia drew a deep breath. “And Archie was forced to kill him. I know this is not easy on him, but I would just like to see him for a moment.”

  “It’s best if you did not. Please. Just give him time.”

  Cornelia nodded, glancing down at Mr. North’s desk. “What did the constables find at the Whitstone manor? Do you know?”

  “Lord Whitstone had been a busy man.” Mr. North sat back in his chair, fiddling with his quill pen. “The dwarves he mentioned had been abducted and tormented. He also had taken prisoner two young people, a man and a woman, who were born with club feet, as well as a young man of – your coloring.”

  Cornelia froze. “No,” she whispered, horrified, her blood icy in her veins.

  “Had you fallen into his hands,” Mr. North said softly, “well, I’d best not say. I know you can imagine it all.”

  “What will happen to them?”

  “They will all be returned to their homes. Whitstone did not treat them well, but, there is little we can do about that. He also had various exotic animals from faraway places, Africa, India, I believe. I’m not sure what will happen to them, but for now they are being cared for.”

  “Who is Whitstone’s heir?”

  Mr. North shrugged. “As there is much evidence in his house that he engaged in murder as well as abduction, it may be up to the crown to decide.”

  Cornelia nodded. “This is all so difficult to imagine,” she murmured.

  “He was a sick and demented individual, and hid it from everyone except Thomas, his steward. And that man is so deathly afraid of Whitstone he did everything he asked. He never dared to even leave Whitstone’s service.”

  “I almost feel sorry for him.”

  “I know I do.”

  Trying to smile, Cornelia said, “Well, Edgar Jones’s arm is healing and I’m told the constables will be here tomorrow to fetch them. I expect that I will be cleaning the cellar afterwards.”

  Mr. North laughed. “If His Lordship hears of you cleaning the cellar, he’ll be out of his rooms in a flash.”

  “Then I suppose I should get started.”

  * * *

  Jonas ambled into Archie’s bedchamber. “Mr. Sanders said to inform you that your guests have arrived.”

  Sitting in his chair by the window, Archie glanced up, and sighed. “I expect that my time for self pity is over then. I had hoped to wallow for another day.”

  “If you wish to wallow longer, My Lord, I am certain your guests will understand.”

  Combing his fingers through his hair, Archie snorted softly. “Here I am grieving over the death of a man who doesn’t deserve it. No, I think it’s time I grew up and faced my demons.”

  Jonas’s brow hiked. “I hardly think of Miss Hill as a demon, My Lord.”

  “Ah, never mind. Inform Mr. Sanders he is to escort the guests to the drawing room and wait upon them. They are very important.”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  Steeling himself for the confrontation to follow, Archie washed and dressed carefully, then strode down the hall to the stairs. He found Peggy Wood in the foyer near the front doors, and waited as she curtsied before speaking. “Miss Wood, have you seen Cornelia?”

  “Yes, My Lord. She is in the library.”

  “Please do me a favor. Ask her if she will attend me in the drawing room.”

  “I will.”

  His heart thudding in his chest, Archie crossed the tiled floor to the drawing room. Before entering, he drew a deep breath, nervous, feeling slightly afraid of what he was about to do. This is going to be so very awkward and humiliating if it all goes wrong. And there is so much to go wrong. Gathering his courage, he opened the doors and strode in.

  The couple seated on the divan stood up as he entered, Noah standing off to one side. He forced a smile onto his lips as he approached. “Welcome, I am Lord Rochester. Thank you for coming all this way to Northumberland.”

  The tall man, still wearing traveling clothes, bowed, then stepped forward with a smile to shake his hand. “My Lord. I am Michael Dunstable, and this is my wife, Catherine.”

  Mrs. Dunstable curtsied. “We came the minute we got your letter, My Lord.”

  “Please, sit down. I trust Mr. Sanders has been looking after you?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Mr. Dunstable replied. “We are so eager to see her, we could not wait to get changed.”

  “She will be here at any moment.”

  As though on cue, Cornelia entered the drawing room, her face glowing with happiness and joy, and for a moment Archie feared his secret had been leaked. Her glanced flicked to his guests, both of whom stood up at her entrance.

  “My Lord,” Cornelia said, offering him a quick curtsy. “I am so happy to see you. I trust you are better?”

  Slightly embarrassed, Archie cleared his throat. “Well, yes, I decided to cease and desist lurking in my chambers feeling sorry for myself. I, um, well, I wanted you to meet someone. Cornelia, please meet Mr. and Mrs. Dunstable.”

  Confusion crossing her face, Cornelia walked toward them with a small smile, and a curtsy. “How do you do?”

  Mrs. Dunstable clutched her husband’s hand, choking, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh, my God, it’s her. Michael, do you not see? It’s her.”

  Taking a step back, Cornelia glanced toward Archie. “What is this?”

  Half afraid she would flee, Archie seized her hand. “Cornelia, these are your parents.”

  Now fearing she would faint, Archie watched her face as she stared from him to the Dunstables. Her mouth opened and closed, but now words emerged. Thinking it best he explain before she asked questions, such as why they would have aband
oned her, he hastily spoke.

  “I paid an investigator to find them, Cornelia,” he said, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. “What he found out was astonishing.”

  Michael stepped forward, a tremulous smile on his face, and tears shone in his eyes. “We have been looking for you for twenty years, my dear, my sweet daughter.”

  “You – you did not abandon me?” Cornelia tried again to step back, but Archie’s hand locked her in place.

  “Never,” Catherine declared, almost angry, not bothering to wipe her tears away. “I put you in your cradle for sleep one night, and when I checked on you later, you were gone.”

  “Someone abducted you, Cornelia,” Michael went on. “After reading His Lordship’s letter and learning about this circus you were in, now we know what happened.”

  Cornelia’s free hand went to her throat. “What?”

  “That circus was in London and near our residence,” Catherine said, still nearly angry. “We went to see it and you were with us.”

  “We believe Barrett saw you in your mother’s arms,” Archie said softly. “He had to have you.”

  Cornelia stared at him, her mouth open. “He took me? All these years he had told me I had been abandoned and that I owed him my life, and he took me?”

  For a moment, Archie felt glad Barrett Hill was already dead, for if Cornelia’s expression was anything to go by, he would not have survived his next encounter with her. “Yes, angel, he did. He’s dead now, and is facing his justice for all the wrongs he did.”

  “This man who kidnapped her is dead?’ Michael asked, his tone hard. “A pity. I would have liked to have seen him hanged.”

  “Believe me, sir,” Archie said dryly. “His death was far worse than hanging.”

  Catherine took several steps toward Cornelia, smiling through her tears. “You have my eyes, my sweet child, and my nose. Please. May I embrace you?”

  Breaking into harsh sobs, Cornelia rushed into her mother’s arms. Michael put his own around them both, bowing his head as both women wept on one another’s shoulders. Archie turned half away to give them privacy, finding Noah at his elbow with a tumbler of whiskey. Archie thanked him with a smile, and was startled to see Noah wink at him. Then the butler made his sedate way back to his place.

  For long moments, the three of them laughed and cried, spoke of how Cornelia inherited her father’s nose and chin, but she far surpassed them in beauty. “You are such a lovely girl, Madeline.”

  Cornelia drew back. “But I am Cornelia.”

  “Madeline is the name we gave you,” Michael said. “But keep Cornelia, as it is what you grew up with. So it shall be your name from now on. However, you will drop that horrid Hill surname. You are a Dunstable, and come from a fine family.”

  “Your father has more money than the Prince Regent,” Archie said dryly. “A merchant who imports fine diamonds, I believe.”

  Michael nodded. “It was my grandfather’s business, and he passed on his knowledge to my father, who passed it down to me. Had you remained with us, you would have been introduced to society properly, and married to a fine gentleman.”

  “Which brings me to my question, Mr. Dunstable.” Archie found his mouth dry, his tongue swollen. He gulped as Cornelia left her mother’s arms to stare at him. “Ah, um, will you permit me to marry your daughter, sir?”

  Now or never. If I don’t ask her now, I will lose my nerve forever. Please, God, don’t let her say no.

  Michael grinned broadly. “I would be proud to have you marry my daughter, My Lord.”

  That’s one. Now for the big question. Archie dropped to one knee, gazing up into Cornelia’s stunned face, observing her strangely blank expression. Oh, she’s too afraid, she’ll say no, she can’t marry me. “Cornelia, I love you. Will you marry me?”

  Fearing the worst, Archie braced himself for the flood of excuses – she could never stand at his side in society, he will be ashamed of her, what if their children were born like her – and waited, holding his breath. Finally, when he was sure she would say no, reject him, Cornelia’s tears flowed fresh. Her smile bloomed as she held his face in his hands.

  “Yes, Archie. Yes, I will be happy to marry you.”

  The End?

  Extended Epilogue

  Curious to read how Cornelia and Archibald's relationship evolved? Then enjoy this complimentary short story featuring the beloved couple!

  Simply TAP HERE to read it now for FREE! or use this link: http://hannahamilton.com/jvhr directly in your browser.

  I guarantee you, that you won’t be disappointed ♥

  But before you go, turn the page for an extra sweet treat from me…

  More sweet historical romance

  Turn on to the next page to read the first chapters of A Duke in Her Bonnet, my best-selling Amazon novel.

  A Duke in Her Bonnet

  Chapter 1

  After her coming-out party in March of 1812, Susana Alvin's bosom would be the talk of London society.

  Attired in one of the most splendid, pale blue silk gowns money could buy, with white feathers in her hair and jewels on the toes of her shoes, Susana clutched a cup of ice—shaved ice, flavored with syrup, and colored an appetizing shade of red by hibiscus petals and roses. It was a charming refreshment and one of her favorite things to eat.

  Just a few hours into her coming-out party, people were already gossiping in hushed voices. She had consumed one ice already and was well into her second. It was not proper for a lady of breeding to eat so much, and in public no less, but Susana could not help herself. It was beyond delicious, and such a rare treat.

  “You would think she had been half-starved,” Lady Dillinger murmured to her friend, Lady Grainger. They were older in years than Susana, and thusly thought themselves blessed with a divine right to judge others without hesitation.

  “It is turning her lips an alarming shade of red, would you not say? Why, she looks as though she has smeared rouge upon her mouth. It is most distracting.” Lady Grainger chuckled cruelly, but Susana paid them no heed. This was a party in her honor, after all, and she was determined to enjoy it. Ice and all.

  “I wonder the Duke does not stop her, before the color stains.” Lady Dillinger tutted, both of them casting disapproving looks at the young lady.

  “I should say it is a matter of indulgence, judging by the way she is devouring it,” Lady Grainger interjected.

  “It is such a pity when young ladies are indulged,” Lady Dillinger agreed.

  The Duke had invited seemingly everyone in England to the party, and the club they had hired for the event—Almack's, of course—was full to the brim with revelers. The early spring weather was changeful, mild during the day then cold at night, so the fires had all been lit and stoked, but the temperature that evening stayed comparatively warm. Consequently, the air inside the club was close, and far too hot, with far too many people all pressed in together.

  Susana felt faint already, despite the cooling refreshment of her icy treat. To put the ice down was to eschew her only physical comfort, and though she might have benefited from taking some air, she was obliged to be sociable and could not yet find the time to graciously escape to the balcony for a few moments.

  Everywhere she turned, someone was eager to engage her in conversation, for the Duke of Bainton's ward had, heretofore, been a mysterious creature, oft-sheltered and seldom seen, and all of London society wanted to unearth her mysteries.

  Even rumors about her had been scant, for the Duke was of unimpeachable moral character, and would say but little of his ward in public. Consequently, Susana had become an enigmatic figure, indeed. All that was known of her, was that she had red hair, and the most unfortunate freckled skin, but that she was otherwise, to hear the Duke put it, “lovely to look upon, indeed.”

  From this remark, it had been supposed that the Duke might marry her himself, but the Duke had put all such suppositions to rest by declaring adamantly that he was through with marrying, after the untim
ely death of his beloved wife.

  “I would not say she is anything remarkable,” one of the younger ladies, Lady Bernadette, the daughter of Lady Moleston, remarked to her two companions: Lady Igraine and Lady Lucille. All three had recently enjoyed their own entrances into society and did not like the scent of fresh competition for the eligible gentlemen hereabouts.

  “I was thinking quite the same thing, Lady Bernadette,” Lady Igraine murmured. They were making little endeavor to be discreet, much to Susana’s embarrassment.

  “All of this hullabaloo, over a rather strange creature.” Lady Lucille giggled. “Why, she almost looks as though the Duke had been hiding her beneath a rock, would you not say?”