Once Upon an Earl_Heirs of High Society_A Regency Romance Book

by Eleanor Meyers

  “We’re going,” Lady Brandell stood. “Come along.”

  Nash narrowed his eyes at the remark. “Moth… Lady Brandell, please.” He went over to the dowager and reached out to touch her arm, but stopped at the final second and dropped it away. “I just want you all safe.”

  She touched his arm instead. “I understand, but we’re going.”

  Nash crossed his arms and said, “Very well, but you obey my every order. If I tell you to get down on the ground, you do so without dignity or flourish, and do so, immediately. Also, if I tell you to run, you run. If you’re instructed to leave me behind, you do it without question. Do we have an understanding?”

  Lady Brandell didn’t back down. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I need more than your best, my lady. You must agree to my terms.”

  She straightened her spine. “I… don’t think I can.”

  “What can’t you do?” Nash asked. “Run? Duck? I saw you move quite briskly that first night we met.”

  Hands clasped before her, Lady Brandell said, “No, I am more than capable of doing all that. I simply… I don’t think it wise to leave you behind.”

  Nash tried to remain unaffected, but even Sam could see that his eyes softened.

  Her eyes moved to the bouquet of roses that sat on the table by the sun. Nash had given those to Lady Brandell that morning, presenting them to her before breakfast. He’d not given a reason, but both Sam and Lady Selby believed it to be because of Lady Brandell’s weeping the previous night.

  She’d glowed at the gift and had whispered with trembling lips, “I’ve not received flowers in years…”

  “Well,” Nash had said, “We’ll have to make sure that never happens again.”

  She smiled now, surer than ever that she’d chosen well, no matter his background. Though she wondered if Lady Brandell’s need to protect Nash still stemmed from her belief that he was her son, or if she had simply grown to care for Nash, himself.

  He touched her then, placing his hands on her arms. “I can handle myself, but I’m better when I’m undistracted. If I sense you in any danger, I’ll not be at my best.”

  Lady Brandell swallowed, and then nodded. Then she turned to Lady Selby. “Come on, dear. Let us go meet your son’s friend.”

  Lady Selby took her arm and gave Nash a shy smile, as she skirted around him toward the door.

  Samantha followed the pack out of the door, with Nash at her side.

  “Swear to me you’ll get them, and you, out of harm’s way, if danger approaches.” He stared into her eyes. “I’m counting on you, Samantha.”

  She stopped and grabbed his arm. “I’m not at all pleased at the thought of leaving you behind, either.”

  His arms went around her, and he pulled her back into the drawing room, before sealing his mouth over her own, and stroking his tongue against hers, making her lips part with a sigh. It was hard and quick… far too quick for Samantha’s liking.

  He touched her cheek. “I’m glad that you care for me, but swear you’ll not let harm come to Lady Brandell. Promise me this, Samantha. Even if she fights, you get her out.”

  Lady Brandell. He didn’t beg for the same treatment for Lady Selby, but perhaps that was simply because Lady Selby hadn’t threatened to disobey his orders. Or perhaps, he simply cared for Lady Brandell more.

  Deeply, it would seem.

  She stared into his eyes, and for the first time, truly took into account how very similar he was to the dowager. Perhaps, somewhere down their lines, he was connected to the Wolfgang family, just the way Lady Brandell thought.

  “I swear it,” she promised.

  He nodded and led her out of the house.

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  22

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

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  Nash quickly realized that Mrs. Weston had not been understating her claim that Miss Sticklander would be happy to have company. She’d greeted everyone with so much warmth, that his distrust began to quiet as he looked around her house. It was small, but very nice with pastel artwork and oak floors. It was at the edge of a forest, tucked away from the village, and by the time the only staff member, a small maid, brought tea into the sitting room, Nash had begun to wonder if Miss Strickland needed protecting, herself.

  Grace Sticklander was a very pretty brunette, with large pale blue eyes that seemed to be made of glass. She looked made of glass herself, like something fine that should never be touched. Her skin, hair, and face were flawless and surreal. He’d readily assumed she was married, but at the discovery that she lived alone and had never married, he’d been surprised.

  “They both changed their minds,” Miss Sticklander said. There was clear pain in her glassy gaze. “They proposed and then…” She shrugged. Then she turned to Mrs. Weston and smiled. “I’m so glad you brought friends. No one ever comes.”

  “Why is that?” Nash asked. Once again, his distrust rose.

  She turned to him with the grace of a lady. Had she been trained or was it natural? “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “They simply don’t.”

  “It’s all very strange,” Mrs. Weston said from Miss Sticklander’s side, as she sipped her tea. “There are plenty of people her age in the village, and though she invites them, no one comes.”

  Nash stood and walked the room, as he thought. “How did you meet Lord Selby?” He’d already shared their reason for coming. Selby was missing. She may know something about it, and if not, perhaps information about Lord Brandell.

  “Oh, Mark?” Miss Sticklander smiled. “He’s such a nice gentleman. It was raining in the village one day, and I had purchases in my hand. My maid, Mead, was holding purchases as well. Lord Selby seemed to come out of nowhere, and held an umbrella over my head, and then he did the same for Mead as she got into our curricle.” She turned to Lady Selby. “He’s a very nice man. You did very well.”

  Lady Selby smiled sheepishly. “Oh, well, thank you, dear.”

  “And after that?” Nash asked. “You became friends.”

  Miss Sticklander nodded. “When he would come to Stickland for fishing, he would usually visit my home at least once during his trips, and we’d have his catch for dinner.”

  Nash didn’t like discussing this in front of the other women, but since they’d insisted on coming he would. “And you never became more than… dinner partners?”

  “Dinner partners?” Miss Sticklander asked innocently.

  Nash cleared his throat and tried to remember the last time he’d been uncomfortable. “He… didn’t try to… woo you?”

  Miss Sticklander laughed. “Lord Selby? Oh, no. I could never marry a lord. I’m illegitimate, even though my father left me enough to live comfortably until I wed.” Her father, the Marquess of Stickland had passed a few years ago, and had settled some money on the child he’d claimed publicly… if not begrudgingly, if one were to take in the fact that Grace lived secluded from the world. The family’s surname was Seton, but Lord Stickland had claimed Grace by giving her a name close to his title. It was more than most parents did for their bastards.

  “How old are you?” Samantha asked her.

  “Twenty-five.”

  Samantha smiled. “We’re close in age, it seems.”

  Miss Stickland smiled at her. “You’re very pretty.” She turned to Nash. “Don’t you think so?” The eyes were truly innocent. The woman would never fit into society. She was far too pure at heart. Nash could sense it, even though he continued to sense something amiss.

  “She’s beautiful,” Nash told her without looking at Samantha or any other woman in the room. “Do you see your brother?”

  She nodded. “Lord Stickland comes to visit me on occasion. Once or twice a year.” She continued to smile. “Sometimes, even on holidays. He has no other family… yet. Only me.”

  “Dear girl,” Lady Brandell sighed and turned to Nas
h. “Must we really leave her here?”

  Nash blinked. “She’s not a pet, my lady.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t leave, either way,” Miss Sticklander said with wide eyes.

  “Why not?” Nash asked.

  She tilted her head in frustration. “Because I was told to stay here.”

  “By who?” Lady Brandell asked.

  “Mr. Reed.”

  Silence fell through the room and Nash felt like a veil was being lifted from his eyes, though he wasn’t quite sure what he’d discovered. “Mr. Reed told you to stay here? Jeb Reed?”

  She nodded and looked around at all the stunned faces in the room. Everyone but Mrs. Weston who had no clue what was going on.

  “Did you talk to Lord Selby about Mr. Reed?” Nash asked.

  She nodded again. “Oh, we talked about him often. He wanted to know what Mr. Reed said on his visits, and if Mr. Reed mentioned any names he may know.”

  Miss Sticklander must have been Lord Selby’s source of information.

  “Was a Lord Brandell ever mentioned?” Lady Brandell asked.

  Miss Sticklander shook her head. “You’re the first Brandell I’ve met. Is anyone hungry? We were taught it wasn’t proper to eat such an hour, with dinner only around the corner, but I find the rules so hard to obey.” She smiled shyly, but if taking extra meals was Miss Sticklander’s only crime, then she was not ready to know who Nash truly was.

  The meal was simple, as was the dinner that followed a few hours later. Bread and peas were all that were served. Miss Sticklander didn’t eat meat. She’d stopped after witnessing a chicken being killed behind the butcher shop in the village, and there was no wine. Miss Sticklander claimed the best meal she had, was when Lord Selby brought fish, her only exception to meat, and Samantha wasn’t sure if she should feel badly for the woman who clearly didn’t know all the delicacies that the world had to offer. There were no cakes at tea, and no pie after the meal. Miss Sticklander had never even had ice cream.

  Yet she was happy, and very much so, with all the people that sat at her table. She read old books. Never anything new from their time or current events. It was as if someone wished to protect her from the truth. She knew none of the gossip of London, yet all the customs. She could dance, sang beautifully, knew her place settings, and addressed the ladies as was their right. She’d been trained well, and from the selection of stories she knew, was well read.

  And Samantha wasn’t sure she’d ever met a more charming girl in her life. She was more twelve than twenty-five and she wondered… was there anything wrong with that?

  Samantha couldn’t imagine being as happy as Miss Sticklander, who’d hardly known her father, and whose brother only visited twice a year, if that. Samantha wanted her father’s approval, while Miss Sticklander was simply happy to have anyone, so long as they were kind.

  And who could help but be kind to her? Whatever the reasons for her fiancé’s’ departures, Samantha was surprised that more men hadn’t asked for her hand. She was gorgeous and poised, and immediately put Samantha at ease. She knew the others felt it, as well. The sense that one shouldn’t worry when Miss Sticklander was around.

  Except for Nash, who seemed to fight it. He looked enraged by the puzzle he couldn’t solve, and his looks had begun to unsettle Miss Sticklander.

  “How long have you known Mr. Reed?” He asked, when they’d all gone to the drawing room. Miss Sticklander had just finished showing her talents on the piano, and her ability to sing in Italian, when Nash asked his question.

  She turned to him. “All my life.”

  “You remember him as a child?” Nash asked.

  She nodded. “He hired all my tutors and oversaw their work. He knew much about such things, since I wasn’t his only charge.”

  Nash lifted a brow. “There were more?”

  She nodded. “Yes, though I’ve never met them.”

  “Was there one named Augustus?” Lady Brandell asked.

  Sam and Lady Selby shared a look.

  Miss Sticklander frowned. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t recognize that name.”

  Lady Brandell leaned back in her chair and nodded.

  Nash stood and began to pace again. Sam watched him.

  “Does Mr. Reed work for your brother?” Nash asked.

  Miss Sticklander shook her head. She didn’t mind answering questions. “Not my brother, but others. Mr. Reed told me he worked for many men.”

  Nash closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “Did he say any names?”

  “I’m sorry,” Miss Sticklander began.

  Mrs. Weston cut her off by standing. “Well, I do believe it’s time to go.”

  Miss Sticklander got to her feet as well. “Already?”

  Mrs. Weston hugged her and then pulled away. “Don’t worry. I’ll return before the week ends.”

  That earned a smile from their hostess and she saw them all to the door. “So lovely to meet you. Please, do come again.”

  It was dark by the time they’d left, and Nash ushered them to the carriage.

  The door to the house opened again, and Miss Sticklander came rushing out. “Oh, I remember a name.”

  Nash spun to her.

  Miss Sticklander smiled. “Avon.”

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  23

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

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  “How could the Duke of Avon have any part of this?” Lady Brandell asked.

  “He likely doesn’t,” Nash told her, as he stretched his legs. “But that doesn’t mean that Mr. Reed hasn’t done something terrible for him in the past.” Avon was disliked amongst the men in Nash’s family. Christmas all but avoided saying his name. Reuben had thought of more than a few ways to see to the man’s end. If his sisters hadn’t stopped him, Nash would have seen Avon put away long ago. He’d threatened not one of his sisters, but both. It irritated him to know the women would not let him rest a finger on the duke, and it angered him even more, that though by all appearances the duke seemed to be dying, he’d been at death’s door since the day Nash had heard about him two years ago. How long did it take an evil man to perish?

  “Do you think is coincidence that both Lord Brandell and His Grace are both members of the BBC?” The question had come from Samantha, who happened to be sitting next to him in the pitch black of the carriage.

  Nash searched for her hand and took it into his known, knowing no one could see, and then thought about what she’d said for a moment. “It’s hard to tell, but it’s a good place to look.” Members of the Blue Blood Coalition had been causing trouble since they’d begun.

  Reuben’s fiancée had been attacked by one of the members just a few weeks ago.

  “When you see my son tonight,” Lady Selby said in a small voice. “Tell him that I love him.”

  “I will, if I can.”

  When they arrived at Mrs. Weston’s, Nash found ten men standing by two carriages. All of them were fit and ready for the night ahead. They frightened the women slightly by their presence, but Nash quickly reassured everyone that they were there to protect. A few would stay behind while the others would come with Nash, staying well-hidden unless they sensed danger.

  “I’ll change my clothing and then we can leave,” Nash said to the men. Then he climbed the stairs after the women. He went to his own room and had barely undone his shirt before a knock came to his door.

  He knew it would be her, but that didn’t make him any less pleased by the sight of Samantha.

  She came into the room as though it were something she did every day, invade his personal chambers. It was only right, he thought. After all, she’d already invaded his mind, grating at the walls around his soul. She possessed his heart. What was his space, in the end?

  “What do you plan to do once you’re there?” she asked.

  He pulled off his jacket and said, “He wants me to convince Lord Sel
by to sign his business interest over to the title. So, I’ll pretend to go along with the mission, until I and my men can find a way inside, and back out.”

  “Will you have to hurt him?” She asked.

  He couldn’t lie to her. “Perhaps.” And he was preparing his mind to do just that, hurt a man who didn’t deserve it. He’d loathed every minute of it, but in the end it would all be for Lord Selby’s benefit. It was better for Nash to draw blood, than for Mr. Ogden to take his life.