Once Upon an Earl_Heirs of High Society_A Regency Romance Book

by Eleanor Meyers

  It was fortunate that Nash had quit dinner early.

  “Thank you.” Giving the man another coin, he turned toward the private dining room and planned to sit at a chair with his head down until the man came out.

  That plan was cut off when the doors opened, and Mr. Ogden spotted him instantly.

  “Mr. Smith? Whatever are you doing here?”

  “I’m on business for Lord Iverstone.”

  Ogden narrowed his eyes and then slowly grinned. “Mr. Smith, have you eaten?” He extended a hand to the dining room. “I could have a meal brought to you.”

  Nash kept his face clear as he stared at the man, wanting to know why Ogden was giving him a smile, and if perhaps the dining room held a trap. “Why would you be willing to feed me?”

  “Because, Mr. Smith, I’ve a business proposition for you.” Then he lowered his voice and said, “I know why you went to prison. You’re just the sort of man I need.” His smile grew. “Come, Mr. Smith. I swear it will be worth your time.”

  He was in need of a criminal, and more likely than not, a killer. Could it be that Lord Selby was still alive? Nash thought it impossible, but if he was...

  Nash hesitated, and then followed Ogden into the dining room, ready to attack anyone who stepped out of the shadows.

  But nothing moved except for the footman who brought in the meal that Ogden had promised.

  He didn’t bother to touch the food. “Tell me about this business.”

  Mr. Ogden did.

  * * *

  19

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  .

  .

  .

  * * *

  * * *

  .

  Samantha stood, as heavy footsteps came down the hall. Her heart raced as a figure moved in the shadows, only his boots shining in the lamplight. Then she lifted the light higher and Nash’s face came into view. He paused. She knew he was surprised, even though he refused to let it show. And perhaps he was still hurt by what she’d said. She would be, if she were him.

  “What are you doing here?” Nash asked, as he moved closer. “Do you know what hour it is?” He stopped at his door. “How did you know these were my rooms?”

  She licked her lips. “Mrs. Weston mentioned it at dinner. My room is right next to yours. I suppose you were not truly listening during the meal.”

  His lips thin and he turned to his door. “No, I wasn’t.”

  Her heart raced. “Wait. I... We need to speak. I don’t like the way things ended earlier.”

  He frowned at her again, his hand on the handle. “There’s nothing to say.” He pushed through.

  Samantha barely stopped the door from closing in her face. Humiliation and anger bit at her, sparking her temper. “I’ve come to apologize.”

  Cold blue eyes held hers. “Fine, but I won’t. I meant every word I said.”

  She cringed from him even as she kept her hand on the door. Part of her thought she was foolish for coming to him, waiting for him for endless hours in the hall, wondering if he’d return. And now he was like this, a creature she hardly knew, but admitted she’d thought he should be. Hard. Mean. A brute. He was built for it. He looked menacing whenever he wasn’t smiling… like now.

  “You don’t mean it,” she told him.

  He narrowed his gaze. “You know nothing about me.”

  “I know you’ve had to fight for everything you have,” she whispered. “You told me that much, and right now I know you’re angry and hurt at me, so you’re fighting with me the only way you can. Verbally. You’d never hurt me physically. I know that about you.”

  The only thing that changed on the hard plane of his face was a lifted brow. “Are you sure of that?” He looked her over, allowing his eyes to trail over her night rail before lifting to her face again. “You should retreat while you still can.”

  “Nash, you’re a protector, or was Lady Brandell wrong about you?” she dared.

  “She was wrong,” he said, surprising her. “I’m not a protector. I’m nothing but a street urchin who happens to fancy silk.”

  Her shoulders fell as she took him in. He sounded so defeated. “I hurt you terribly, didn’t I?”

  His hand tightened around the door. “I’d have to care for you, in order to be hurt. I care for no one.”

  They stared at one another for a long time. He was no longer trying to close the door on her. In fact, she knew what he truly wanted. He wanted her to run away from him. He wanted her to see him as the beast he’d claimed himself to be outside when they’d fought, but she saw past it all.

  She’d had hours to think about it, remember his face, and how his insults had not only been directed at her, but himself. He was out to prove his words true, but they were a lie.

  He spoke again. “I’m likely to start remembering the rumors, if you continue to walk around like this.”

  The slap she delivered across his face rang loud in her own ears. She was mortified, even as her hand stung, but before she could apologize, he grinned.

  His body relaxed, sagging against the doorframe. The hand was still on the door, prepared to shut it the moment she was gone. “Are you certain no invitation had been extended, when Mr. Green slipped into your room?”

  She lifted her hand, prepared to slap him again. But then she lowered it and said, “There’d been no invitation. He was the first... nude man... to ever…”

  His expression changed swiftly. Anger turned his eyes dark. “He was naked? You said he didn’t touch you.” His knuckles went white on the door and she noticed his entire body grow tense.

  She didn’t hold back the smile when it came. “I knew you cared.”

  He stared at her, and then cursed before turning away. Then he looked at her again. “Was he naked?”

  She nodded.

  He shook his head. “I’m going to kill him.”

  She went to him then, and wrapped her arms around him. “Nash, I’m sorry for what I said, but you must understand.” She looked up at him, his face remained hard, but his body relaxed somewhat. “My father… I’ve wanted him in my life so long. After my mother died, he could hardly look at me, because I look too much like her for him to bear. Oh, I just… I don’t know how to explain it, but I want his love, Nash. I do.”

  His body relaxed completely, and his eyes softened. “I understand.” His arms went around her and pulled her into the room before he shut the door. “What I said…” He swallowed and started to look away, but it was as though he forced himself to hold her eyes. He sighed. “Samantha, what I said to you… You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have forgiven me.”

  “But that had been your point all along, had it not?” she asked. “To push me away?” She waited for his answer.

  Nash pulled in a breath though his lungs ached as they tried to fill his chest. His heart beat furiously within him. How had this woman undone him so thoroughly? He’d been ready to walk away, ready to bury his feelings for her.

  He’d never known anyone to fight for him before. Only his siblings had ever cared to dig past his angry words of pain, and try to reach the part of him he kept sealed away from the world. The part of him that needed affection just as much as anyone else.

  He understood her need for her father’s love, and wanted her to have it.

  But in the end, it meant that though Samantha seemed unwilling to let him build a wall between them, she was also not his to have. That knowledge hurt more than anything had in a very long time, almost more than his brother’s betrayal. Here she was, and he couldn’t have her.

  He touched her shoulders. “The only point that matters, is the fact that we can’t be together, Samantha. So… you should leave.”

  She shook her head but didn’t let him go. “Nash, I don’t know what to say. My feelings for you… I’ve never felt his way before.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re only making this worse. Just go.” He used his strength to pull away from her and then started toward the pitcher
of water, desperate to cool himself.

  “Perhaps,” her voice was but a whisper. “Perhaps, we could convince him to accept you.”

  Nash grunted as he took off his jacket and began to roll up his sleeves, trying to crush any hope that thought to build itself within him. Hope was for fools.

  Samantha came to stand by him and he was surprised when she took his left arm and stared down at it. At first, he’d been confused, but then he’d quickly understood what she searched for; the mark Mrs. Weston had mentioned.

  He’d covered it with some of Mrs. Weston’s paints before going to dinner. In the dim light of his room, she’d be able to make out nothing.

  He witnessed the flash of despair that went through her eyes. Yes, life would be easier if he were an earl, but he could never be that, he could never expose himself to his mother. That much he was sure of. She thought him dead. She’d perish of apoplexy if she found out just what her boy had lived through. He was better off dead.

  He’d heard the women’s conversation from Lady Brandell’s room, while he’d been in the hall. Lady Selby’s point about his father having verified a dead child before it became official was correct. What the lady didn’t know, was that a male infant had just died at the Home. From what Nash had guess, the man simply switched him out for the dead one. Surely, it would have been easier to kill his father first, but then that would have required killing Nash later, and as Nash understood it, Mr. Reed’s heart softened where children were concerned. Nash wasn’t sure if the man would have killed him as a babe. The dead infant, therefore, was an easier, and far too convenient choice.

  Sam dropped his arm and then looked up at him. “We could try. He might change his mind once he sees how happy I am with you.”

  “And what happens when he doesn’t, and you’re forced to change your mind?” And rip out my heart along the way.

  She placed her hands at her hips. “You’re the one who has but to look at a woman in order to charm her. How do I know you’re truly ready to court a lady?”

  He smiled and leaned against the sideboard that held the pitcher. “I offered courtship as a courtesy, but I’d just as likely steal you away and have us married as soon as possible.”

  She blushed and dipped her head.

  He crossed his arms and waited for her gaze to find his once more. “I don’t trust many people, Samantha.” He was truly sharing his heart with her now. That was something he rarely did, even with his siblings. “Don’t do this if it’s not what you want.”

  “Nash—”

  “I went to Newgate for murder.” The words were out, and he was glad of it. IF she was going to give him a fair chance, it was only right she knew.

  She leaned away, and a horrible expression filled her gaze. “You… Newgate?” She looked at him. “Did you…” She swallowed.

  He shook his head. “No. I fought a young doctor whose grandfather had been a lower lord. I beat him severely, but he was still breathing when I left him. However, I found out the next morning that his body was discovered in the Thames and I was blamed. They claimed I either found him to finish the job or he was so disoriented that he wandered the mile to the water and fell in.”

  Sam shook her head. “It sounds as though they simply needed someone to blame.”

  Nash was surprised she’d come to that conclusion on her own. He’d said nothing about the magistrate’s connection to the family, or Nash’s lack of powerful supporters. And while there had been plenty who’d wanted the doctor dead, it had been Nash who’d taken the fall.

  “Why did you fight him?” Sam asked.

  “He’d been attending one of my friends, and had taken money for medicines he’d sworn would help. In the end, my friend died.”

  Sam’s lips tilted down. “I’m sorry, Nash. It’s terrible when you lose someone you care for, but I don’t understand why you fought the doctor. Surely, he’d done everything he could have.”

  Nash chuckled and even to his own ears, it was cold. He helped her into one of the chairs by the small table in the corner before taking his own. “I’d thought so as well, until I found out what the ingredients for the special medicine were.”

  “What?” She leaned forward to listen.

  “Water from the Thames, and if that was too far, any puddle in the city would suffice. Do you know what manner of things can be found in the Thames, much less on the street? I found the doctor laughing about it one night in a tavern. He had no miracle cure; and didn’t bother to spend his money on anything that actually worked for his patients. He said the poor didn’t know better, and it would be waste of fine medicine to keep them alive. He was killing them, and they never knew it.” Nash still grew enraged whenever he thought of that night, and often he wished he had killed the doctor. Then, at least, Nash wouldn’t have gone to prison for nothing.

  Sam covered her mouth. “How horrible.” She reached out and took his hands. “Nash.” She shook her head. “That such evil lives in the world, I’ll never understand.”

  He tightened his fingers on hers, surprised she’d offer a criminal such pleasure, such mercy. “There were many of his patrons there that night, and he’d been quite drunk and loud. Anyone could have killed him, but it wasn’t me.”

  “I believe you,” she whispered, once again shattering his thoughts of her, proving his first theory about her correct. She was unlike any other woman. “How did you get out?”

  “Iverstone,” he shared. “His youngest son had been thrown into my cell a few months after I arrived. At the time, he’d not given his identity to anyone, so no one knew who he was.”

  She frowned. “Why wouldn’t he say who he was?”

  “He was angry with his father,” Nash said. “We were both young and foolish at the time. His grudge made him hold his peace. We weren’t friends at first, but when a few of the other prisoners noticed the wealth of his coat and thought to take it off Manas’ cold body, I stepped in to defend him. There we were with our fists for weapons, against men with broken glass and metal. We were all a bloody mess in the end. In the morning, Manas was gone, but by mid-afternoon I was released, as well. Manas claims I saved his life, and Iverstone is grateful for it.”

  “You’re a wonderful man, Nash,” she said with a soft smile.

  He lifted a brow. “That is not the usual reaction one gets when they’ve told a woman they’ve been to prison.”

  She shrugged. “Then perhaps my opinion is biased.”

  Nash took his hands from her so that he could run them through his hair. She was undoing him. “But your father won’t be. He’ll see a criminal. He’ll see a bastard.”

  Her gaze softened, and he knew her next words would be devastating. “Yet, I look at you and I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

  He closed his eyes and stood. “You should leave.”

  “Nash...”

  “I want you enough to compromise you right this minute, and make sure the entire countryside is aware of it.”

  Her gasp made him open his eyes and he saw red paint her cheeks. Without another word, she went to the door, but she looked back at him and he felt the affection in her gaze spread out into the room, and touch him all over.

  Then she said, “We didn’t discuss what happened at the inn.”

  “It can wait until morning,” he told her.

  She nodded. “Good night.” When the door closed behind her, it was the first time in a long time that Nash didn’t feel alone. She wanted to try to convince her father. Very well. He’d try.

  * * *

  20

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  .

  .

  .

  * * *

  * * *

  .

  Sam listened as the last words left Nash’s lips the next morning.

  The room was silent as everyone tried to understand what he’d had just said. Sam walked herself through the words and understanding dawned on her quickly.

  They were in the drawing room o
nce more, her, Lady Brandell, and Lady Selby. The dowager had calmed since the previous night, but Sam could sense her reverting back to her former self, a woman who closed herself off from the world because her mind was unsettled. Sam had told Lady Selby that she’d checked Nash’s arm and had seen no mark, then Lady Selby had forced Sam to repeat it to Lady Brandell. With each word, Sam felt as though she were murdering Lady Brandell’s child all over again, the confession, nails in a coffin.