Once Upon an Earl_Heirs of High Society_A Regency Romance Book

by Eleanor Meyers

  "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please, I did not want it, I swear to you!"

  "Liar! Otherwise, you would have married me! If you were not a cold and calculating whore like your mother, you would have fallen in love with me and then I would not have had to resort to all of this!"

  Clarine knew that she had to keep him talking. She knew that when he stopped, it would all be over for her.

  "I'm so sorry! I was wrong, please. I was mistaken. Give me another chance, I will love you, I will..."

  He scowled at her, but at least he did not kick her again. "You give me your word?"

  "Yes... yes, I will marry you. We will go back to Hartford Hall, and you will be the master there, the way that you should have been..."

  For a moment, she thought she might have convinced him, but then he shrugged.

  "It seems easier to convince the constables that you went mad with grief after killing that man here and hanged yourself, cousin."

  "What?"

  "That's what I told the constables, you know. That your attack and then your murder sent you mad. I've been telling all who would listen, and now, when they find you dead here, well, no great surprise. And no great loss, either."

  He went to the saddlebags on the horse, pulling forth a great hank of rope, and Clarine took her chance. She was on the ground, so she bent her legs almost all the way to her chest and then she kicked out as powerfully as she could.

  All your strength is in your legs, so if you need to, aim between a man's legs and kick hard.

  Her mother's words echoed in her ears, and though she didn't get Mason between the legs, she managed a hard blow to his thigh that sent him to the ground.

  Then she was up and scrambling away, going back toward the road, away from him. She heard him roaring behind her, reaching for her, snatching at the back of her dress, but panic gave her an extra burst of speed, and she bounded ahead.

  I need to get to the road. I need to get to people.

  Deep in her heart, she knew how unlikely it was that she would find people, but the other option was to lie down and let Mason kill her, and that she would not allow.

  Everything narrowed to getting another foot in front of Mason, of putting as much distance between them as possible. She could hear his snarling breaths, the birdsong underneath as if there was nothing wrong in the world, the hoof beats from ahead...

  Hoofbeats?

  She looked up just in time to see an enormous roan come storming up to her, cutting right just in time to miss her. The rider, a gentleman in fine clothes, clubbed Mason to the ground with the butt of a dueling pistol, and then he turned to her.

  "Help me, please, he was going to—"

  She yelped as the stranger pulled her up onto his mount, and for a moment, she was afraid she had escaped a murderer to be accosted by some gentleman bandit.

  "There, no one's going to hurt you, Clarine, I swear. Thank God you're safe..."

  She stared because now that she had recognized his voice, there was no mistaking it.

  "Lucas?"

  "The one and only, I am afraid. Marcus will take care of this piece of trash. I want to get you home."

  * * *

  The constables had taken Mason, and they said that they would send Quentin and Sarah back to Hartford Hall as soon as they arrived at the gaol. They had asked if Clarine was sure, if they might have had a place in the plot as well, but Clarine was adamant.

  "Let them go. I cannot bear them being held for only the sin of being related to Mason."

  Now she was alone in the library with Lucas, who was and wasn't the man she had fallen in love with. She sat at the desk, and he paced next to the banked hearth, restless and strange in his fine clothes.

  "It is strange to see you like this."

  "Is it so much of a strangeness?"

  "It tells me that you are not who I thought you were, at least."

  He looked startled at that.

  "I am still myself."

  "Tell me who that is."

  "Lucas Aaron Tolland, twelfth Marquis of Campion and Baron Aldering."

  She stared at him. "My god, you're a marquis?"

  A small smile twitched at the corner of Lucas's lips. "Would you have preferred a duke?"

  "Don't be ridiculous! And this whole time... you have been acting as a stable hand? Why in the world would you ever do that?"

  Lucas took a deep breath. She sensed a kind of reluctance in him, but finally, he squared his shoulders and looked her in the eye.

  "Because I was in a state of scandal in London. I'd dueled a man over his wife, and London disapproved. I came out to the country to get away from it all for a while, and then... well, I met you."

  She shook away what she thought he might have meant, focusing instead on the words that came before it. "Did... did you love the married woman?"

  Lucas looked surprised and then shook his head. "She was an entertainment. An amusement. No, I didn't know what love was, Clarine, until I met you. I love you, and I know that you love me."

  She felt her heart leap at that, at the idea that he loved her just as she loved him, but love had always been such pain for her. Her mother loved her father and lived apart from him all their days. Her father must have loved her, but he was unable to show it until after he died, giving her Hartford Hall.

  "Who do I love? I do not even know who you are!"

  Instead of being angry with her, Lucas grinned and came to kneel in front of her. Yes, she knew this man, or at least her heart did. She knew him so well.

  "I'm the man who loves you. I'm the one who knows that sometimes he will be an idiot, but that I will always listen to you when you correct me. I am the one who will love you better every day."

  He handed her a wooden box, and the smile on his face was so tender she wanted to cry.

  "Open it."

  With shaking fingers, Clarine did so, and she gasped. Inside was a beautiful diamond ring, surrounded by a frill of golden leaves. It was almost too beautiful to touch.

  "I love you, Clarine. So much. I do not want to live another day apart. Say you love me, and I will keep you safe forever."

  When Clarine spoke, her voice was just a whisper. "I don't need you to keep me safe. Just stay with me. I love you."

  He pushed the ring on her finger, and the whole time, she couldn't stop telling him how much she loved him. It was as if a dam had broken, and she didn't stop until his mouth slanted over hers, taking her breath away, promising her an eternity of love in their future.

  * * *

  EPILOGUE

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  The warm breeze blowing off of the azure sea made Clarine smile as she stood at the narrow window. San Paolo had been one of her mother's favorite places in the world, one where she remembered her beautiful mother smiling the most. Getting to share it with Lucas was a special kind of paradise, something beautiful and perfect and right.

  Behind her, in the rumpled bed that they had despoiled so very thoroughly last night, she heard Lucas stir. She turned to see his gray eyes focused on her, a sleepy smile on his face.

  “Come back to bed, darling.”

  She did so and curled in his arms again. She thought for a moment, and then leaned up to kiss him gently on the jaw.

  When he would have kissed her more thoroughly, she halted him.

  “I was thinking of returning to England this month or the next.”

  “Oh? Are you feeling homesick, darling?”

  “Never. Not when my home is with you. But...”

  “But?”

  “But I think I would like our son or daughter to be born on English soil, wouldn't you?”

  He froze for a moment, and then he pulled back sharply to look at her face and then down at her still flat belly.

  “Clarine? Is it... are you?”

  She laughed. “Yes!”

  With a cry of delight, he swept her into his arms, ho
lding her so close that they could have been of one flesh.

  “God, woman, but you are a miracle.”

  It felt good, Clarine decided. It was a secret she had been holding on to for weeks until she was very sure. Now it was no longer her secret, but their treasure, and she knew that for all the days moving forward, there would be no more secrets between her and this man she loved so well.

  * * *

  THANK YOU

  for reading my book

  Hope you have enjoyed reading the novella that served as a special treat just for you.

  Once Upon An Earl is Book 4 in the series.

  The next book in the new series targeted release date will be 07th Aug.

  In the meantime . . .

  If you have enjoyed reading Once Upon An Earl, I believe you will enjoy reading the previous book.

  I have enclosed a sneak preview of the previous book in the series.

  Check it out below . . .

  It is currently priced at $0.99 (around 330 pages)

  * * *

  October, 1795

  London, England

  It amazes me how a child can turn out so very similar to their parents without any influence whatsoever. That’s the power of blood. And sadly, while many of my children will inherit the very finest attributes of their parents, some may inherit the darker parts.

  I’ve yet to glimpse a darkness in Reuben.

  He’s ten, and already he’s decided the course for his life. He wishes to be a soldier, and I must admit that he’ll make a very fine protector. I’ve watched the way he stands guard for Alexandra, and takes care of Rose as though she were his very own. Even now, he sits with me in my study, his dark head bent, as he rocks the sickly infant to sleep. Whenever another child comes around, behaving wildly or being boisterous, all Reuben must do is give them a look, and they vanish.

  That look is one I’ve seen the Duke of Yall give to another lord on more than one occasion. Father and son will take separate courses in life, but I’ve no doubt that Reuben will be just as much a leader of men, as the Duke of Yall.

  But what stands out to me most, is the gentleness I glimpse in him. From whence did it come? His mother? How I’d have loved to meet the woman, God rest her soul.

  Either way, I will nurture that gentleness as much as I can, and pray that when he grows up, he will nurture it in others.

  For that is the true duty of my station. To give, and thus, create givers.

  -From the Diary of Mary Elizabeth Best

  * * *

  PROLOGUE

  February, 1817

  “Shall I introduce you to Lord Eastridge, my dear?”

  Rachel Lush looked into the Earl of Woodley’s knowing eyes and groaned. She’d been caught staring once again. The teasing that lit up his face took twenty years from his appearance. At forty-seven, he’d hardly aged in the last decade, both physically and mentally. Charles Lush enjoyed playing the dandy at times. He had the heart of a young man, full of laughter and good cheer, but was as sly as a fox when he wished to be.

  She turned away. Playing with the high collar of her dress, she answered in a low voice, “That won’t be necessary.” The noise in the dining room drowned out their conversation even from the rest of the guests at their table. Laughter, music, and the clinking of silverware and champagne glasses rang out, as the ladies and gentlemen dined on the extravagant breakfast. “Rose has already promised to do so, herself.” The last thing she wanted was for her father to embarrass her, by introducing her to the man she’d been thinking about more and more, as time went on.

  Besides, introductions weren’t actually necessary, since Rachel had known him before he’d become a lord, but that was long ago.

  Woodley patted his daughter’s hand and bent his gray head toward hers. “Today is Rose’s wedding. Surely, she’d be far too distracted to remember such things as promised introductions.”

  Rachel hoped not, and yet at the same time...

  Was she truly ready to move on? It had been nearly six years since her fiancé, Lord Stacy’s, death. Many forgot she’d ever been engaged, and yet, Rachel hadn’t. She had been fifteen when she’d become engaged to Stacy, and sixteen when he’d died in a riding accident. And though seven years had passed since then, no man had ever interested Rachel.

  Until last year, when Reuben Smith had returned to her life.

  Once a footman in their home, he’d returned from war a colonel and a lord.

  “Lady Rachel,” one of the Anns called to her. Anna and Annie were a pair of sisters who looked like twins, but were in fact, not, though Rachel had no clue who was the eldest. They both had pale brown hair and striking blue eyes.

  Anna, Rachel thought, leaned toward her.

  “Your dress, it’s quite becoming on you. It makes you very darling.” Anna gave a snide smile. “Why, you look all of twelve.”

  Rachel stiffened, as the blow hit her squarely in the heart.

  Annie giggled, lifting a hand to show her diamond bracelet, a gift from her fiancé, who was a duke’s son— a third son— but a blue-blooded man, nonetheless.

  Darling. It was what Stacy had called her. His darling.

  He’d liked her this way, innocent and gentle, and yet over the last year, such endearments had begun to irritate her. For the first time, she realized she didn’t want to be darling. She wanted to be…

  She didn’t know what, but definitely not that. And she was a woman, not a twelve-year-old! She knew Anna was teasing. She knew she didn’t look that young, though on more than one occasion, someone had, in fact, thought her closer to sixteen than twenty-two.

  She thought to mention to Anna how gracefully and well she seemed to be aging, but then decided against it. She would not be pulled into the Ann games.

  Anna asked, “Did Lord Obenshire say where he was taking Lady Rose for their wedding trip?” Her eyes were hopeful, but Rachel knew there to be no kindness in the look. Instead, she hoped that Obenshire would elect to keep his wife home, not wishing him to spend so much time alone with his new bride.

  She glanced up to find the woman in question. Rose stood unashamedly close to her groom, an act that would not serve to ease her way into Society, but Rose didn’t care, for she’d married the man of her dreams, and that was all that mattered.

  Rachel smiled at Ann. “They’re heading to the Continent for two months. They’ll see Italy and Greece. Barely a servant will accompany them, Obenshire wishes to have her all to himself.” And Rachel would miss her friend.

  “Oh.” Anna frowned and leaned away, before turning to whisper to her sister.

  She didn’t have to wonder why such people had been invited to the celebration. The Anns were the daughters of a marquess. But neither Rose nor Obenshire seemed to care what anyone thought.

  The groom, Lord Obenshire, looked just as pleased as his wife, as he stood with his hand on her lower back, introducing Rose as his countess. Everyone who stood to be received offered her smiles, but Rachel took note that more than one woman turned away with obvious disapproval in their eyes.

  Obenshire was an earl only by his father’s courtesy, but was actually set to one day take on a dukedom. Many families had hoped he would choose one of their daughters for wife, but all had been disappointed when he’d married Rose Smith, a woman who’d grown up in an orphanage.

  A bastard, they whispered.

  And it made little difference that her father was, in fact, the Marquess of Stonewhire, or that the marquess doted on the girl and had given her a handsome fortune. She’d been born outside his marriage, and thus, would never be good enough.

  This was not to say all the blue-blooded families thought this way, but there were many who did, and in the last few weeks, a few had become very vocal about it.

  Rose had not been the first illegitimate child to claim one of England’s most powerful titles. Rose’s sister Alexandra— who was not her sister by blood, but by a shared history, and who Rachel counted a friend as well— had also mar
ried well and was now a countess.

  The ton feared a trend was being set. Lords and ladies alike feared what would happen if commoners thought to rise above their station. They’d even given themselves a name. The Blue Blood Coalition. The group stood firmly against the rise of paupers to prosperity.

  Who would iron their clothes, or make their tea, if everyone married wealthy? And more importantly, who would their precious daughters marry if all the Beau Monde men claimed paupers?