Sam undressed, put on her night rail, and went to bed, trying to think of a way to make Lady Brandell feel better. She was always trying to make the woman feel better. That was the reason she’d suggested the park… and maybe for the woman to try a brighter gown, one that would bring out her eyes. Lady Brandell hadn’t bought a dress in years, she’d been told.
Lady Brandell was so downhearted that Sam wasn’t sure she was the best fit for her. Oh, why had Karl pushed her onto the woman? Had he thought Sam a scandalous woman, and thus thought she’d pull Lady Brandell out of her shell?
Likely so, even though twenty-three-year-old Samantha had never done anything to gain her reputation. She’d never slept with a man. Well, she’d technically slept next to a man, but he’d not touched her. She hadn’t even known who he was, until the next morning. Her father had thrown a party, and one of his guests had managed to find her room. He’d tried nothing during the night, but in the morning, a maid had found him nude and screamed.
Then Sam had woken and screamed, and that had been the end of her flawless reputation.
There were times she wondered why she still clung to her virtue, especially since she’d never had issue with finding a suitor. It had always been her father who’d held her back. He’d travel during the seasons without leaving another male in his place, someone the gentleman could ask for her hand in courtship. He promised repeatedly that the next year would be different.
Samantha had been fine with this, even when her friends had called her a spinster. Even though she’d never traveled to London for a season, she’d still had a very large pool of gentlemen to choose from in Oakmont.
But in one night, all that was taken from her. Or rather, the offers had changed. Though the gentlemen no longer thought her a suitable wife, they were more than ready to take on a mistress.
A slew of men came to mind, and while she’d thought to give in to one or two, it would only be trading one trap for another.
Her father had made a deal with her, and if she failed to uphold her side of the bargain by season’s end, if she failed to do the task he’d set, she’d be left without two pennies to rub together, and would be all but disowned.
Mr. Smith came to mind, as she knew he would. Never had someone caught her so utterly off guard. For a man with such a brutish body, she’d assumed his face would be the same, hard and unyielding, but instead she’d seen nothing but the face of an angel. Yet angelic looks or not, she was sure he could be wicked if he wished to be. A man as captivating as he, likely already had two or three bed partners.
What was one more? She’d never seen herself seducing a man.
She frowned. What was she thinking? She didn’t even know his full name, or what he did for a living. His clothes were lovely, however. Maybe Mr. Smith was a solicitor. That was a very acceptable position to have if one needed to work for a living. Acceptable? Was she thinking to marry a man? From just a look?
No, it was more than his face. It was his kindness. He’d been just like an angel, appearing out of nowhere. She wondered if he were even real. Would she ever see him again? Likely not, though she wished she had someone to discuss this sort of matter with… someone who wasn’t Lord Karl.
Most of her friends had quickly abandoned her, mostly prompted by mothers and fathers who wished to keep their sweet darlings unmarred by scandal.
Karl hadn’t abandoned her, however. They’d known one another for some years. She’d frequented the country dances in Oakmont, which was where his family’s country seat rested. If scandal were a man, he was its sire. He’d thrown Samantha onto his aunt without much thought.
He’d given her that powerful pale brown gaze of his and had said, “Aunt Cili needs a friend, and so do you. A better puzzle has yet to be completed.” And with a wink, that was that.
Perhaps Samantha should do as Mr. Smith offered, and help Lady Brandell with whatever mission she was on. She nodded, and decided she’d do that very thing in the morning, reminding the woman that it was safe to take Sam into her confidence, and not give up until she got her way.
What Sam was sure she wouldn’t do, was fulfill Lady Brandell’s request to be left alone. She was a companion, after all.
Turning out the light, she settled into the sheets… stretching her legs out to make sure she was alone, and then curled into herself and slept.
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2
CHAPTER
TWO
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Nash felt the depression on the bed and tried to recall the events of the last evening and wondered if he’d brought a woman back to his rooms.
His brother Reuben’s fiancée, Lady Rachel Lush, had held a grand affair that had included most of the members of the ton. His sister, Rose, had also been there with her husband, the Earl of Obenshire. Rose’s father had been discovered to be the Marquess of Stonewhire, a scandalous gentleman who’d also happened to have fathered another woman from St. Giles. But last night had been the first time Rose had met the woman who’d given birth to her. Jessamine Bryce, a very famous actress from a decade ago.
That had brought the party to a comfortable end, and then Nash’s brothers had pulled him into the parlor and revealed Nash’s own lineage.
He’d gone to hunt his Uncle Rez, the Duke of Brandell, and had run into his own mother.
The Dowager Countess of Brandell.
But then, there had also been Lady Samantha… he’d never caught her surname, and though he’d have liked to very much, he was sure he’d not brought the beautiful woman home with him. He could simply close his eyes and envision those alluring golden blue eyes.
A shove of his shoulders shook the memory from his mind.
“Nash, get up. We need to speak.” Reuben was the very last person he wished to see.
No, this was Chris, who was the very last man he ever wished to see again. Reuben was a close second.
“Get out,” Nash said, without turning over. He buried himself further into his soft bedding, to restrain himself from lashing out. Even after all the many years he and Reuben had known one another, Nash felt ready to do something that would finish their relationship entirely, though in his own mind, Reuben and Chris had already done so, by keeping such a secret from him.
Chris’ voice broke the silence next. “We’re not leaving until we’ve said everything that needs to be said and made sure that you’ve listened to us.”
Nash straightened in the bed, turned, and glared at his brother who stood by the door. Christmas’ calm demeanor only served to anger him further. His brother was poised against the wall, arms crossed, with a boot resting on the wall behind him. He was a tall man, taller than Nash by a few inches, and handsome, with dark hair and golden eyes.
But Nash was stronger. He trained daily, and had toned his body into a weapon as lethal as a blade. He could take Christmas down if he wished, ruin his pretty face like he’d ruined their friendship. While Reuben had been off at war, it had been Chris who Nash confided in, told his every thought and feeling. Reuben had been gone for nearly a decade, which didn’t in the least excuse what he’d done, but made it more forgivable.
Christmas, he’d never forgive, and he’d never trust, again.
“You can leave on your own, or I can throw you out,” Nash whispered, holding tightly to his fury.
Christmas didn’t blink. “Where did you go last night?”
Nash was out of his bed at once and started toward Chris—
Only he was grabbed, and quickly subdued, by Reuben. His brother delivered a swift kick to the back of his knees, and Nash went down with his arms pinned behind him in a position that promised a dislocated shoulder and great amounts of pain if Nash tried to move. He let out a roar that he knew sounded as savage as he looked, but Reuben’s hold was unyielding. The former colonel was proving once again, how he’d gained not only his rank, but his title as the Viscount of Eastridge.
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Nash cursed them both, using the foulest language he could find, wanting to break their ears, if he couldn’t break their bodies.
“Calm down,” Reuben said at Nash’s ear, a slight strain in his voice. “No wonder they call you a Viking. You’re acting barbaric. Will you listen to what we have to say?”
Nash cursed again. “I don’t want to hear a word you have to say. It should have been said years ago.”
“And then where would you have been?” Chris asked from his position at the door. “In prison? Dead?”
“You lied to me!” Nash shouted, his heart racing with as much pain, as anger. His eyes burned with contained violence and betrayal. He’d had nothing all his life. They’d grown up in an orphanage surrounded by nearly twenty other children, but Chris had selected Nash to be part of his circle. A family. The only one he’d ever had, and now that was ruined. “Every time I came to you! Every time I shared anything with you was a lie!” In a lower voice, he said, “I hate you.”
Chris flinched then, but it gave Nash little satisfaction. The only thing that would please him would be if his brothers just left, and never sought him out again.
Chris moved from the wall and bent down to Nash’s face, his golden gaze expressionless. “The way you’re acting right now, tells me I made the right choice. You’re unstable.”
Nash launched at for him but groaned at the pull on his arms. He turned around to glare at Reuben.
Unwavering green eyes caught his. The determination was cut into the planes of his face, but unlike Chris, who’d all but lost his humanity years ago, Reuben’s face showed remorse. “I thought it the right time,” he began. “Having my father finally know who I am has taught me the value of truth, and I hope, like myself, you can learn to accept yours, as well.” Reuben’s father, the Duke of Yall, had only just discovered who Reuben was, yet while Reuben had known their connection for years he’d never acted upon it, never embarrassed Yall with the information.
Never lashed out.
But Nash was not Reuben, and never would be.
Nash turned away from him. “I want you both to leave.”
“What would you have done, if I’d told you all those years ago?” Chris asked.
He lifted his chin to meet Chris’s eyes. “The same thing I plan to do someday soon. Kill the earl.”
Chris blinked. “Then I’m beyond disappointed in you.”
Nash reeled back as far as Reuben’s grip would allow, angered further that Chris’s words would affect him so much. Chris hadn’t ever taken the role as Nash’s father. He was only four years older, yet Nash had always looked up to him, and admitted he’d been ashamed when he’d been taken to prison. It had been a year before he’d been able to look Chris in the eye again, but his brother had never judged him.
Until now.
Nash cursed him again, knowing he was acting like a child, but hardly caring.
Chris continued to speak, as though Nash hadn’t said a word. “Do you remember when Alexandra grew old enough to leave the orphanage, and instead of moving in with me or you, she chose to live with Michael Kimberley?”
Nash stiffened, recalled those years long ago. Reuben had been away at war and had thankfully missed it. Michael had been a boy from the orphanage as well, a charming and selfish lad who’d happened to woo Alexandria into a relationship that had been little more than slavery. She’d worked. He’d spent her money, and when he’d finally found a lady willing to give him more, he’d left her.
Nash had wanted to break his neck.
Chris could tell by Nash’s eyes that he remembered; and spoke again. “Do you remember two years ago, when we thought Lord Obenshire had broken Alexandria’s heart?”
Nash remembered. He’d offered to take Alex away from England. To Scotland even, anything to give her time to heal.
“And last year, when Rose’s uncle tried to kill her with an infectious ailment. Do you recall that?”
“I remember,” Nash finally said, to get this conversation done with. He didn’t want to remember the times he’d been enraged on his sisters’ behalves, though he’d been glad to have been there to help Rose get better. She’d been a sickly child, and more than once Nash had been forced to step in and protect her from those who’d have brought her harm. He’d done the same for Alexandra, when she’d been a little girl.
His brother went on. “Had you even tried to lift a finger to Lord Brandell, you’d never have been there to help me with Rose and Alexandra. All those years you stepped in to fight their demons, what would have happened, had you not been there? You were their brother and you let them down.”
“No, I didn’t.” Nash frowned in confusion. “I was there.”
“Yes,” Chris told him. “Because I lied to you. Because I kept you focused on family, and not yourself. You’ve a deadly rage, Nash. You always have, and I knew you’d do well at defending our sisters, using your rage for good, instead of getting yourself sent to the hangman.”
“But that wasn’t your choice to make, Christmas!” Nash shouted, even though he could understand what his brother was saying. Nash would have missed everything. His life would have been cut short by his own temper. “He likely killed my father.”
“That’s yet to be proven,” Christmas said. “All we know is that he arranged for you to go missing. He stole your birthright. A dead baby was stolen from the Home. A live baby, you were given to the home. You were the live baby. That’s all I know.”
He didn’t wish to argue with them. “You shouldn’t have kept that from me.”
“You’re right,” Chris said. “I was selfish to not tell you, because I care greatly for you.” He glanced up at Reuben then before looking at Nash. “We both do.”
It was Nash’s turn to blink. The anger that had been building in his muscles all but vanished.
Chris sighed, looking weary for the first time since he’d entered the room. “We chose you to be part of our family. That means sometimes family has to make the hard decisions.”
“Then why tell me now?” Nash asked calmly. “You know what I plan to do the moment you let me go.” There was no turning back from his plans. The earl had to go.
“Because Alexandra and Rose no longer need us the way they once did.” Chris nodded at Reuben, and immediately he let Nash loose. Nash felt the tension leave his shoulders; but could barely lift his arms without feeling pain.
Chris stood. “Alexandra and Rose are happily married. They’ve husbands to protect them. You are free to make your own choices from here forward.”
Nash stood and looked at his brothers. The thought crossed his mind to attack them. A hit across their faces would make him feel better, but he refrained from doing so. “So, you don’t need me anymore. Is that it? I’m that disposable?”
Reuben shook his head. “Of course not. In fact, Chris and I would like to help you if you’ll let us.”
“Help how?” Nash asked.
Reuben shared a looked with Chris and then turned to Nash again. “If it’s your title you want, we’ll work to find a way to expose what your uncle did, all those years ago.”
Nash could barely believe what he was hearing. His title? He couldn’t begin to wrap his mind around such a thing, becoming a true gentleman once more. It had never crossed his mind. “Do you think it possible?” The thought was entirely frightening. He shook his head. “No, that’s not what I want.” He enjoyed his life the way it was. The only thing he wanted was Brandell’s death. “Get out.” Though he understood his brothers’ choice, and could tell they truly cared, he still didn’t want to be near them.
Not now.
They’d had no right.
Reuben and Chris stared at him and Nash kept his gaze from wavering.
Reuben nodded. “Let us know if you change your mind. The last thing we want is to lose you.” Then he walked out the door.
Chris did as well, never looking back, and Nash wondered if he’d ever have a good day again.
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CHAPTER
THREE
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Once Upon an Earl_Heirs of High Society_A Regency Romance Book Page 3
