Capturing the Earl

by A. S. Fenichel

  He felt responsible. How odd. Mercy hadn’t met many men of his ilk who were so solicitous of their dance partner’s feelings. He likely wanted to steal a kiss or more and had followed her to get her alone. Mercy feigned patting her hair, but pulled a long hatpin she kept tucked in her elaborate bun. “My lord, I appreciate your attention.” It was difficult to not sound sarcastic. If necessary, she would jab him and run. “You may rest assured, I am in no immediate danger. I just wanted some air.”

  The way his laugh rolled around the garden and caught on the breeze brought nothing but delight. “I think the weapon is a fine idea, Miss Heath. I shall instruct my two sisters to have exactly such an item placed in their hair for balls, trips to the theater, and the like.”

  Mercy raised her brow and smiled, but didn’t sheath her weapon against overly amorous admirers. “You might tell them picnics and walks in the park are better suited to several pins in one’s stays or actual hats. One never knows when man of means will try to take advantage of a woman below his station. Of course, your sisters have your title to protect them.”

  She had no need for spectacles or better lighting to see that her words had angered him. His fists clenched at his sides and his shoulders went rigid. “I have no intention of taking anything from any woman, regardless of her station, that is not offered freely.”

  “Then you had better go back to the house, my lord, before someone sees you and me in the garden alone and I am ruined. Or do you intend to marry me, should we be discovered?” She made a scoffing sound that was not very ladylike.

  The moon shone on him like a god of old as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I have no intention of marrying you, Miss Heath. Though I have to say your candor is refreshing after so many inane hours of debutantes who connive to have my attentions.”

  “Conniving is not really in my nature. And in any event, I am not of your station. I am only Miss Heath, an orphan whose father had no title and whose lands were entailed elsewhere. If not for my aunt’s kindness, I would be someone’s governess or worse. You may be sure that I have no designs on a man like you.” She carefully and deliberately put her hatpin back into her hair without poking herself.

  “I’m not sure I like the way you say, ‘a man like me.’ In fact, I didn’t like any of what you just said.” He scowled.

  “And yet it was all true.”

  Giving her a nod, he said, “Good evening, Miss Heath.”

  She made a quick curtsy and rushed back toward the house.

  * * * *

  Mercy played the pianoforte in the West Lane music room. She knew the piece from memory and would have to endure it played by her student later in the day. Playing it herself beforehand was a small indulgence.

  Ignoring the bang of the doors and the scratching on the music room’s door, she played on.

  Tipton stood several feet away with a package in his hand and a bland expression.

  Stopping play, Mercy sighed. “Yes, Tipton?”

  He approached. “Miss Heath, this just arrived by special messenger for you.” Tipton placed the package, wrapped in thick brown paper, on the pianoforte. With a bow, he turned and left.

  She wanted to continue playing, but too curious about the package, she reached for it. Who would send her anything?

  Removing the note from beneath the package, she opened it.

  Miss Heath,

  Consider this a small apology for my lack of attentiveness.

  Regards,

  Castlewick.

  Heart pounding, Mercy opened the box without tearing the thick paper. Inside lay a case covered in the finest kid. The soft leather was usually used for expensive gloves. However, in the case lay a pair of wire-framed spectacles.

  Mercy gasped and stared at them.

  “What is it?” Aurora said from the doorway. “I heard the music stop and came to check on you. Have you an admirer?”

  “No,” Mercy said too quickly.

  Aurora’s golden hair caught the light and her pale blue dress flowed around her as she approached the pianoforte. She studied the spectacles. “Who would send such an unusual and thoughtful gift?”

  The Wallflowers of West Lane did not lie to one another. Since she had nothing to hide, Mercy handed the note to Aurora.

  One perfectly curved brow rose above her clear blue eyes. Aurora said, “Why would the Earl of Castlewick send you replacement spectacles?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea. Perhaps he truly felt responsible for the ruination of my other pair.” Mercy took them from the case and put them on. The sheet music before her came into view with perfect clarity. Her heart soared. “Better than my old ones, but I can’t accept them.”

  Aurora waved a hand. “You did nothing wrong and if it makes his lordship feel better, I see no harm in keeping the glasses, which you need and would not be able to buy for yourself for many months. Unless you have changed your mind about either letting me buy you a pair or asking your aunt?”

  Shaking her head, Mercy said. “I have not changed my mind, but to accept such a gift from a man…What will he want in return?”

  Aurora tapped her lip with her index finger. “I suggest you consider it a loan. You can write back to his lordship and tell him you appreciate his gesture but must pay him back in full within some set time frame of your choosing.”

  It made sense. Mercy did need the spectacles. After several distracted hours of wondering why he had done it, she finished with her last student of the day and sat down to write Wesley a note of thanks and terms for the loan.

  Once she’d handed her mail off to Tipton, Mercy pushed her new spectacles up on her nose and settled into the ladies’ parlor with a book.

  Chapter 1

  Two Months Later

  The West Lane Townhouse

  Mercy sipped her tea and listened to Faith’s tale of finding a mouse in the grand parlor of her new home at the Breckenridge townhouse. Faith had only been a duchess for a few months, but from the sound of it, she was making a singular impression.

  “Several priceless items were broken, but really it couldn’t be helped.” Faith put down her cup, took a biscuit from the platter on the low table, and nibbled a bite. One wild curl escaped her bun and hung in her eyes. She blew a puff of hair to try to move it out of view.

  Poppy, who had also married less than a year before, ate her fourth sweet and giggled. “Why didn’t you just call for a footman to handle the mouse?”

  With a sigh, Faith put her biscuit on the edge of her saucer. “I panicked. Besides, plenty of footmen, maids, and the butler, Dumford, all rushed in. Lady Hatfield was up on her chair screaming as if a murderer was brandishing a sword. I didn’t know what to do. I took off my slipper and chased the poor horrified rodent.”

  “How did the vase and statue get broken?” Aurora’s blue eyes sparkled with mirth, but she sat calmly with her hands folded in her lap.

  “That silly mouse ran right under Lady Hatfield’s chair. It was really quite remarkable. She is a woman of some girth, but she leaped over the Queen Anne and landed on the settee. It would have been a move worthy of applause had not her size and forward motion caused the settee to slide across the rug and smash into the table holding those items.

  “Poor Dumford tried to save the statue as it was of Nick, but alas, his haste toppled the harp in the corner and that went right through the window.” Faith shook her head and more disobedient curls escaped.

  Mercy gave up trying not to laugh. Her eyes teared and her stomach ached with the image Faith painted. “Good lord, where was the mouse with all this going on?”

  With a shrug, Faith picked her tea up. “We lost him in the commotion.”

  Poppy, who had never pretended to take the entire story seriously, laughed openly and had to catch her breath to speak. “And what of Lady Hatfield?”

  Faith narrowed her eyes a
nd frowned. “I will not be inviting her back. Not that I believe she would ever return, but the silly screaming caused such a scene and all over a tiny mouse.”

  “What do you mean? Once the mouse disappeared, surely she calmed.” Aurora sat straight as a proper lady despite the fact that it was only the four of them having their Tuesday tea. She never let her guard down, at least not in years.

  “She didn’t stop,” Faith continued. “She screamed and fussed, bringing half the neighborhood out. You would have thought the world was coming to an end. Word reached Nick at his meeting in Parliament and he rushed home, thinking I was in some danger. I really have no tolerance for such histrionics.”

  “That does seem a bit much,” Aurora agreed.

  Poppy made her best effort to calm herself and catch her breath. “How did you get her to stop?”

  “Dumford called Doctor Milne, who gave her a sedative. It was quite a mess.”

  Mercy regained control of her laughter, took a sip of tea, and said, “I’m glad becoming a duchess has not left you bored, Faith.”

  Faith, who had remained stoic through the entire telling of her story, cracked a wide grin. “Lord, that’s the last thing it is. Tuesday tea is the only time I’ve had for myself all week.”

  “I’m glad you still make time to come.” Aurora’s voice was soft and a bit wistful.

  Mercy and Aurora were the only Wallflowers still living in the house left to Aurora by her horrid but thankfully dead husband. Leaning around the back of the chaise, Mercy squeezed Aurora’s hand. “We shall always have each other, no matter what else happens in our lives, Aurora. You never have to worry the Wallflowers will abandon you.”

  With a hesitant smile, Aurora nodded. “I know, but you must admit, the house has gotten very quiet this last year.”

  A commotion in the foyer turned all of their heads.

  “I don’t care what her ladyship said, I will see my daughter regardless of what day of the week it is.” Lady Jemima Draper, the Dowager Countess of Marsden, and Aurora’s mother scolded Tipton before pushing through the doors of the ladies’ parlor.

  The Wallflowers all stared.

  Tipton stood just behind Aurora’s mother. “Her ladyship, the Dowager Countess of Marsden, is here to see you, my lady.” He made a hasty retreat, closing the doors as he went.

  Standing, the Wallflowers all turned and curtsied.

  “Hello, Mother. This is a surprise,” Aurora stepped forward and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I don’t recall our having an appointment today.”

  “Aurora, I insist you fire that butler of yours. He meant to turn me away. How dare he think to do such a thing?” Jemima huffed and sat in the chair Aurora had vacated.

  Aurora sighed and sat on the chaise next to Mercy as they all resumed sitting. “On Tuesdays, Tipton is instructed to turn all callers away as it is my special tea with my friends, Mother. I’m sure you can understand.”

  “I most certainly do not. I have rights to enter this house whenever I choose. You and your…friends will not stop me.” Lady Draper had the stiffest posture Mercy had ever seen. It was a wonder her slim back didn’t snap from the rigidity.

  Another sigh from Aurora. “Mother, would you care for some tea? This has gone cold, but I can call for a fresh pot.

  “I would not like tea.” Her tone was still scolding. “I have news and it cannot wait. You may want to send these women away.”

  The corners of Aurora’s eyes narrowed. “Of these women, one is a countess and your daughter-in-law, and another a duchess, Mother. Try to have a little respect for my friends, as you should to all people regardless of title.

  Mercy had to hide her amusement behind a cough and her hand as Aurora had gotten quite good at putting her mother in her place. A scoff pushed from Jemima’s full lips and she waved a dismissive hand. “If you won’t send them away, then they shall have the honor of learning your good fortune firsthand.”

  Mercy’s stomach tightened with warning that whatever Jemima Draper believed was good fortune was likely unpleasant news for Aurora.

  A small tick in Aurora’s jaw indicated she thought the same. “What is it, Mother?”

  “The Earl of Castlewick is going to court you and, I should think, shortly after that, marry you.”

  All the air rushed out of the room. Mercy had no breath and when she scanned her friends, Aurora’s fair skin was sheet white and her hands drew into fists in her lap. “I…” She shook as she drew in a long breath. Her voice was steady, but with the same scolding undertone her mother used. “I have no intentions of ever marrying again nor will I allow any man to court me. I would think you know that, Mother.”

  “Nonsense. You will allow him to court you. You are too young and beautiful never to marry again. It has been a year since Radcliff left us. You have much to offer a man of means like Castlewick.”

  Mercy thought of Wesley Renshaw’s expressive brown eyes and touched the frame of the spectacles he’d sent her to replace her broken pair. She’d paid him back for the gesture, but treasured the thoughtfulness of the gift all the same. What had started as worry for Aurora turned to dismay for herself. Her feelings about a couple of dances and kind looks from an earl amounted to very little. It wasn’t as if an earl would ever return her amorous thoughts. Mercy swallowed it down and focused on her friend.

  “Mother, I may have a great deal to offer a man because I have land and money, but I would lose all of that should I marry. Why would I do such a thing?”

  Jemima stood and circled the room. She wore a severe russet day dress that covered her from the top of her neck to her feet. The style was out of date and made her look far older than she was. In fact, at only forty-three, she appeared old and mean. The pretty items strewn around the Wallflowers’ favorite room made her look even more unpleasant.

  Mercy wanted to pull her out of their sanctuary and lock the door. Aurora didn’t want to remarry and even if she had, why did it have to be Wesley who asked? Of all the eligible bachelors in London, why him?

  Standing at the window, the glow of sunlight pushed aside Jemima’s disguise and her beauty came into focus. A few wrinkles around her eyes and a strand or two of gray in her golden hair, but Aurora was the image of her mother and both were classic beauties. “I wish it, Aurora. I want grandchildren and a legacy for your father. It seems your brother and Penelope will not obey me in this area, so you must do your duty by me.”

  Poppy stuttered. “I…I…Your son and I have only been married six months, my lady. We have refused nothing.”

  “By now you should be increasing.” Jemima waved her hand in dismissal of Poppy. “You failed with your first husband, Aurora. Since he is dead, we shall assume it was his failing. A second husband with good breeding is what you need. This family needs another generation. You would have your cousin Templeton inherit when your brother dies?”

  Poppy gasped.

  Faith went to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “No one is dying.”

  “Dear lord, mother. You should really monitor your mouth. Rhys is healthy and his wife is sitting in the room. Have you no care for the feelings of others?” Aurora took a breath. “I will think over your news. Lord Castlewick may pay a call if he likes, but I have no intention of allowing him to court me. That said, his interest is flattering, and I shall let him down myself.”

  A slow smile played on Jemima’s lips.

  Mercy’s gut twisted again.

  “Very well. I’m sure he will call within the week.” Jemima turned and stepped toward the door.

  Tipton opened it, without the need of being called. He held out the dowager’s hat and pelisse.

  She accepted the outerwear, pinned her hat in place, and grinned back at her daughter. “I’m sure you will find his lordship as charming as I do. You need protection, Aurora. No woman as young and solvent as you should be without male
protection.”

  When no one replied, she said, “So sorry I can’t stay to tea. Good afternoon, Aurora, Poppy, Your Grace, Miss Heath.”

  Like the tidal-wave she was, the dowager swept out just as quickly, leaving disaster in her wake.

  Mercy glanced from Poppy to Faith. The three of them avoided looking at Aurora, but the silence couldn’t last. Mercy wanted to scream, anyone but him, but she could see how Wesley might be a good match for Aurora if the lady were interested in such a thing. Of course, Aurora’s aversion to remarrying did not make him any more suitable for Mercy. “What do you want to do, Aurora? Shall we discourage his lordship?”

  Aurora studied her hands in her lap. “I can’t imagine what Mother is thinking.”

  “That it would be an advantageous marriage with property.” Poppy never minced words. It was one of the things Mercy liked best about her fearless friend.

  Rolling her eyes, Aurora finally looked up. “She knows another marriage is the last thing I want. I have funds enough to live well for the rest of my life. I don’t need a man to protect me. What might Lord Castlewick have said to make her think he was worth my time?”

  “I doubt he had to say much more than ‘I’d like to court your daughter,’” Faith said. “We all know she has been crazed to have you married from our school days. It’s why you were the first of us to marry and at such a young age.”

  “She didn’t even mind that your father married you to a monster,” Mercy added.

  The four of them had been sent to Switzerland for finishing school. Spirited youths, they had presented difficulties for their parents. For their crimes, at fifteen they had been shipped off for three years to the Wormbattle School for Young Ladies. It turned out to be a blessing as they had met during the travel to Lucerne and been the closest of friends ever since.