Once Upon an Earl_Heirs of High Society_A Regency Romance Book

by Eleanor Meyers

  The butterflies returned. She smiled. “Lord Selby.”

  “Mark,” he told her. “I… don’t wish to be so formal with you.”

  Her smile grew. Had she had to guess what sort of man he’d be, she’d have believed Selby to be the sort of man that required his wife to address him by his title. There were couples who remained as strangers throughout their life. “Mark, that’s a very kind thing to say. However, I believe friendship would be—”

  “Your past doesn’t matter,” he went on. “You’re the most courageous woman I’ve ever known. My mother likes you and I’m starting to enjoy you as well. Please, don’t deny me again. Let us get to know one another better and then make a decision.”

  She tried to pry her fingers from his hands, but he wouldn’t relent.

  Her refusal was only a breath away. Even if she wasn’t already in love with Nash, she could never marry a man who thought the very worst of her, and though Selby thought her courageous now, he’d likely never trust her, and she refused to have a husband she had to tread lightly around.

  What could she say?

  “Am I interrupting?”

  Samantha turned and saw Nash standing by the terrace door. His expression was livid and his body rigid. She took Mark’s stunned moment to snatch her hands away. Then she started for Nash but stopped. He wasn’t in prison, it seemed, and from how well he looked, she guessed he’d never been.

  “Did you receive my reply?” Mark asked him.

  “Reply?” Samantha asked. It implied that Nash had written first, since it meant he could have written to her as well.

  Nash nodded at the viscount. “We need to speak.” Then his eyes moved to Samantha.

  She lowered her gaze so that neither man could see her pain. When she spoke, her voice was strange to her ears. “I’m sure you gentlemen have plenty to discuss.” Samantha took a step toward the garden and cleared her throat. “Don’t allow me to interrupt.”

  She all but ran down the cobblestone path.

  * * *

  28

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-EIGHT

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  Nash allowed Samantha to gain just enough distance for him to excuse himself from Lord Selby, before he chased her down and caught her. He spun her and had to pull in a breath at the tears in her eyes. He’d known his absence would hurt her. It had hurt him just as much.

  She’d never know how much it hurt.

  She tried to pull away, but he grabbed her again and started down the path toward the high foxgloves and pulled her down to the stone bench after he’d seated himself.

  “Samantha, let me explain.”

  “You wrote Mark.” Her face was set into a grimace, but the tears still fell. “I need no explanation.”

  “I wanted to write you, but I… decided against it.”

  She pulled a series of deep breaths. The last shaky. “Why?” she asked.

  “Because, I’m a criminal and now all of London knows it. It was in every paper.”

  “But you did nothing wrong!” she shouted.

  His heart began to thunder. “And neither did you. You’re innocent of the charges Society has brought against you, but they won’t care. Nothing we do will be enough.”

  “I thought I was enough,” she whispered.

  He grabbed her head and placed his against hers. “You would be, if you didn’t wish for your father’s approval. I… understand what it is to want someone’s love, Samantha, and while it pains me to say it…” It was as though nails were raking against his heart. “Lord Selby would be a better match for you.”

  She held his eyes and then pulled away. “You don’t mean that. You said I was yours.”

  She was, a wild part of his mind shouted. He’d been seconds from ripping off Selby’s head moments ago, but he’d fought the rage. He’d always have to fight it, he believed. It was another reason Sam would be better off with another man.

  But as he’d sat in Christmas’s home and recalled the way Lady Brandell had touched him before she’d walked out of the court building, he’d immediately understood Samantha’s plight with her father. He wanted Lady Brandell’s kindness; and feared losing it enough to give up any chance he had at gaining the earldom that was rightfully his. Let her think him a reformed thug. It was better that then telling her the truth.

  He touched her arms, touching her because he didn’t know if he’d have the chance to do it again, once he left today. He wanted his fingers to remember the softness of her skin, her eyes etched in the far planes of his mind. It would be enough. It would have to be enough.

  “I’d do anything for you, Samantha,” he whispered through the pain that tightened his lungs. “I want you to be happy.”

  “You make me happy.” She touched his cheeks.

  He leaned into her hand even as he held her eyes. “But I’m not enough, am I?”

  She swallowed, the answer clear. Then panic set into her face. “We’ve not tried. We’ve not spoken to my father. The papers also claimed you a hero. He’s on his way here. He wrote me the other day. If you give it a chance—”

  “I love you,” he told her. Parts of his soul left him with the confession.

  She moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Nash.” Her eyes were watering again. “You’re the only man I know who ignored the rumors and treated me like the woman I truly was. There was never judgement in your eyes.”

  “I… can’t do this anymore. I have an anger inside of me, Samantha. If another person lets me down, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “Then let’s get married.” She leaned in and touched her mouth to his. “I choose you above all others.”

  Nash’s heart no longer kept to a steady rhythm. Instead, it slowed, stopped, and quickened all at the same time. He was seeing black at the edges of his vision, and he was struggling to breathe through the worst of it. He’d never passed out before, not even after a man struck him in the head. But this slip of a woman was an expert at knocking him off his feet.

  Thankfully, he was seated.

  His arms went around her as he allowed himself this kiss. Her cheeks were cold from tears, but her mouth was warm and sweet. Soft and wet. He’d never enjoyed kissing anyone more. He’d never held himself back from taking more from a woman than he did with her, but she deserved better.

  He pulled himself away before the temptation grew too great. “Samantha, what if you change your mind?”

  “I won’t. Who needs society? I was hardly part of it, anyway. I’ve lived my entire life with spells of loneliness. No more. I finally have someone that is truly mine. I’d be a fool to let that go.” She kissed him lightly again. “You trusted me once,” she whispered, placing her hands against his chest. “Trust me again. I’ll never leave you, and I’ll never regret loving you.”

  He held her eyes and touched her cheek and for the first time, thought they could make it work. His family would support them. His sisters rarely met anyone they disliked, and were anxious for him to fall in love. Samantha would be surrounded by people who cared for her. She’d have a family that seemed to be ever-growing, and a man who loved her more than life.

  He’d come here to end their short-lived courtship. He’d only written Selby to know how his mother and Samantha were faring and if Lord Brandell was still an issue. Now, everything was once again changed.

  “Samantha, I may struggle at times,” he confessed. “As I said before, I don’t trust many people.”

  She smiled. “I know, which is why I keep fighting for us. You’ll learn what it is to be loved.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and wondered what would have happened to him, had he not met her that night in St. James. It was as though God had perfect timing. His anger had driven him to act in hate, but instead, he was given love.

  Samantha bit her lip and asked, “Do you suppose Lady Bran
dell could live with us? I know it may sound strange, but she’s become like a mother to me and I—”

  “If she’s willing, I would like nothing more,” Nash said with deep emotion. “I’ll have to purchase a bigger home.”

  Samantha nodded and then turned and settled her head on his shoulder.

  They were quiet, as a new future began to bloom in Nash’s mind. He was not fool enough to think that every day would be pleasant, but he thought they could make it work, and no more would he leave Samantha as the only one fighting for them. He would fight as well.

  “I suppose we’d better wait to tell your father the good news,” he said after a long moment.

  They didn’t have to wait long.

  A man with Samantha’s blue hazel eyes came into the foyer, just as Nash was leaving to tell his family the good news. There was still the matter of Mr. Reed and Lord Brandell, but Nash thought they deserved a day of happiness, at least. Alexandra, who’d always been a phenomenal chef, was cooking the evening meal tonight, and Nash would invite the Selby family, Lady Brandell, Samantha and her father, if he were willing to join them.

  Selby was at the door, greeting Samantha’s father. “Lord Oakmont. I’m glad you could visit.”

  The Marquess of Oakmont was younger than Nash had imagined him. In fact, he looked only slightly older than Samantha, herself. He was clearly athletic and had likely married early in life.

  He turned when he noticed Samantha, and gave her a soft smile before approaching. As he came closer, Nash could see his age. He had a few lines on his skin and his face had been darkened by obvious years of travel in the sun.

  “Samantha,” her father said.

  “Father.” Samantha wasted no time in introducing him. “This is Mr. Smith. I—”

  “I know who he is.” Oakmont looked him over. “You saved the viscount’s life, it that correct?”

  “Not on my own,” Nash assured him.

  “Yes, I heard.” He glared at Samantha. “I’d had rather you not get involved in this matter, but what’s done is done.”

  Nash felt his body running warmer. The first touches of anger lapping at his skin, stretching it. Oakmont hadn’t asked how Samantha was faring. He hadn’t asked if she’d been hurt in any way, and Nash already knew he rarely saw her to begin with.

  Selby joined the circle. “Well, let us not forget, had she not interfered there is a chance that I’d be dead.”

  Oakmont turned and smiled at Selby. “Yes, that is true. How could I forget, and now here you are returning in kind by protecting my daughter? I hope she’s been agreeable.”

  “Indeed, she has.” Selby smiled down at her.

  “Excellent,” Lord Oakmont said right before he grabbed Samantha’s shoulder and pulled her into an embrace. He smiled at her as he spoke of her finer qualities… as though the man knew her at all. He didn’t mention her gardening skills at all.

  Samantha had seemed surprised by the embrace from her father and, for a moment, despair tried to latch its ugly hand around Nash’s heart. Oakmont saw what Nash saw. Selby was a better fit, as far as Society was concerned.

  But then Samantha left her father’s arm and moved closer to Nash. “Father, I didn’t get to properly introduce Mr. Smith.” Then she looked up into Nash’s eyes and the smile she gave him turned his rage to desire. “He has something he wishes to ask of you.”

  Nash understood her meaning and turned to Oakmont.

  The marquess already looked suspicious and cut Nash off before he could speak. “If he is to ask what I believe it to be, then the answer is no.”

  Samantha’s face fell.

  Nash grabbed her hand and spoke to her father. “Then, allow me to inform you of what is to take place. Your daughter and I are to wed. We would enjoy for you to be a part of our family, but if that is not possible, I’ll have you know that it will not change what is to happen.”

  “You, sir, are a criminal and I’ll not let my daughter near you a moment longer. Come, Samantha.” The marquess turned to the door and didn’t look back until he was there.

  Nash looked down at Samantha and found her to be staring at her father.

  He waited to see what she would do.

  She let his hand go.

  * * *

  29

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-NINE

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  Nash and Sam held hands during the entire journey to Lord Obenshire’s home, his grip firm. He’d never it go again. Lady Brandell sat across from them, grinning, as they traveled in the carriage. Samantha stroked his fingers with her other hand and he ached to be closer to her. When she’d walked over to her father, he’d believed he’d lost her forever, but she’d surprised everyone when she’d given her father a smile and told him ‘goodbye’. Then she’d returned, told Nash she would get ready for dinner and then set out to gather Lady Brandell and Lady Selby.

  The Selbys were traveling in the carriage behind him. Lady Brandell was officially Samantha’s chaperone for the next few weeks until they were wed.

  Nash and Selby had spoken, and though it seemed to pain Selby to accept that, he’d missed his chance at having Samantha, he’d conceded defeat, and had accepted the invitation to dinner.

  “So, Lady Obenshire still cooks?” Lady Brandell asked for clarification.

  “Yes,” Nash said. “It seems as though becoming a countess was not enough to pull her away from the kitchen.”

  “Will you be expecting me to cook?” Samantha asked, finding his eyes in the darkness. The only light hung from the exterior of the carriage.

  He locked his fingers with hers further. “Not unless you want to.”

  She grinned just as the carriage lurched. Nash had heard a growing noise from outside, but at the carriage’s halt, he could hear it clearly.

  A crowd was gathered.

  “Give us Mr. Smith and we’ll let the rest of you go,” he heard a voice say.

  Samantha pulled a breath and wrapped her arms around him. “Nash, what is happening?”

  He cursed and knew he’d taken a risk when he’d left Chris’s house that day, but he’d not felt right ending his engagement with Samantha through a missive. She’d deserved better, so he’d gone in person. When he’d met no danger, he’d thought it safe. Perhaps, Lord Brandell wasn’t after him at all. Perhaps, he was also searching for Mr. Reed to make sure the man kept his mouth shut.

  Now he regretted taking the chance, especially now that he’d put everyone in danger.

  His driver, Chambers, came to the door.

  Nash asked. “How many?”

  “At least thirty,” Chambers said. “They look like street thugs. They’ve likely been paid by Lord Brandell. We’ve only three on our side unless Lord Selby’s driver is also carrying.” Chambers was counting himself, the footman, and Nash. They’d all grabbed two pistols before coming out tonight. Six shots. It wasn’t enough.

  He knew what he had to do.

  Lady Brandell grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare.” Even with barely any light he could see the terror in her gaze.

  “I must protect you,” he said. “Once I’m away, you’ll leave with Samantha. Protect one another.” Nash knew Chris would see to their care.

  “Nash, don’t do this.” Samantha’s voice was a squeal. “We’ll just… ride through them.”

  “They’ll take the carriage apart before it can get anywhere,” Nash said. “If they’re armed all they have to do is shoot the horses. We’ll not win, and I’ll not put you in danger.”

  “No.” Lady Brandell’s grip on him was tight, but nonetheless, he managed to leave the carriage, with his driver blocking one door and the footman the other. He could hear Samantha and Lady Brandell shouting for his return but ignored them. Just a few weeks ago he’d been willing to die at the chance of taking down Lord Brandell. Now, that opportunity was gone.

  He turned to Chambers. “Make sur
e—”

  “You don’t have to ask,” Chambers said. “Think it already done.”

  Nash nodded and then turned back toward the group before him. He counted over thirty as well. Maybe fifty. They blocked both sides of the road. Selby’s carriage was blocked in as well. The street seemed unusually quiet. In such a rich neighborhood the beau monde was likely hiding inside their houses. He didn’t bother to look toward the windows on either side of the street.