The Earl That Overruled My Destiny

by Hanna Hamilton

  “I do believe that it was something in that vein, My Lord.”

  “Well,” Lord Caspian said. “I feel as though I’m expected to be like my father, and perhaps, I was raised with that intention. So even if I do my best to follow my own path, I’m still a product of my father.”

  “And are you very much like your father?”

  Lord Caspian pressed his lips together in a thin line, looking thoughtful. “That remains to be seen.”

  Gwendoline laughed. “Come, now. Aren’t you nearly thirty, My Lord? Surely, you know enough about your character by now to know whether or not you are like your father.”

  “And I would say that as a young woman, who is five-and-twenty—”

  “One-and-twenty,” Gwendoline said.

  “One-and-twenty. I would imagine that you would, nevertheless, know how strongly you do or do not resemble your parents.”

  “That’s completely illogical. After all, you have eight years on me, and if you have not yet been able to determine how like your father you are, I don’t see why I should know if I am like my parents.”

  “Ladies mature more quickly than men do; everyone knows that, My Lady. We have nearly the same years if you’re considering the matter that way.”

  Gwendoline tilted her head to the side and silently watched him for a long moment. The sunlight streaming inside the tea shop caught his face at an especially fetching angle, tracing his high cheekbones, his strong jaw, and his thin, slightly upturned nose. And in that same light, the dappling of freckles across the bridge of his nose glimmered like tiny specks of gold, and his green eyes shined like peridot.

  I really do look at him too much. Even if he is handsome, I still do not know enough of his character to think of him or look at him as I do.

  “Then, you believe that you have the maturity of a lady of one-and-twenty. I’m sure your father would be very proud of that admission,” Gwendoline said.

  “He might agree with it, if I catch him at the wrong time,” Lord Caspian replied. “You never can tell with my father.”

  Gwendoline pursed her lips together. “I have…” she trailed off. “I have heard that he’s an…”

  “A distant sort of man?”

  “It is not my place to say such things about your father. I only wanted to know something of the man’s character. I have never spoken to him. My father would be very displeased if I spoke to him.”

  “Of course, you haven’t.” Lord Caspian paused and gazed into his tea for a long moment, as though it held whatever answers he desired. “I suppose my father is like any other man, though. He has his good traits and his bad traits. While it is true that my father is neither a patient nor an affectionate man, he manages the estate and the earldom well.”

  “I know he’s an accomplished businessman.”

  Admittedly, Gwendoline’s knowledge of business was embarrassingly dismal as she’d never cared much for it. She knew only that Florence’s family had a long history of doing business with Lord Elderdale.

  “He is, which is why my father is often away.”

  “In Spain?”

  “And other places. We have some holdings in France and Germany, also. It is a great deal to manage and spread over a large area. I hope that I manage it half as well as my father does when I eventually take the title and properties.”

  Gwendoline smiled to herself. “I feel suddenly as though my own family lives in a small world. All our business is in Britain.”

  “Britain is interesting enough. And sometimes, I imagine it’s nice not to be traveling all the time. I like adventure, but I imagine some of the appeal is lost when you must journey only for business.”

  Gwendoline had reached the bottom of her cup, and when she glanced outside, she realized that it was nearly sunset. “Florence and I should probably be going,” she said. “Thank you for the meeting. It was pleasant enough.”

  “Only that?”

  Gwendoline chuckled. “A little more than that.”

  “Then, I’ll bid you a fond farewell until next we meet, on one condition.”

  “Are there conditions for being allowed to leave?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “Only one. Which bedroom window is yours?”

  “And why would you need to know that information?”

  At his roguish grin, Gwendoline felt a delightful shiver sweep up her spine. She felt as though she was doing something terribly, wonderfully rebellious by indulging him.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Lord Caspian asked.

  Gwendoline pretended to consider the proposal. “Do you trust me so greatly, then? I could give you directions to my father’s bedroom, and then, you might be in trouble, My Lord.”

  “I daresay I would be.” Lord Caspian grinned. “But I’m willing to risk being betrayed. Most men would. We’re terribly susceptible to beautiful women, you know.”

  “You think I’m beautiful?”

  Lord Caspian leaned forward, his eyes glinting. “That false modesty doesn’t suit you, My Lady. I’d warrant that you know you are beautiful, and I also think you know that only a blind man would not see that. And even a blind man would hear it in your voice.”

  Gwendoline’s toes curled within her slippers. She forced her face into a collected mask, trying desperately to hide the delight coursing through her body. Lord Caspian was good with words. Too good with them. And while that should have alarmed her, it didn’t. His wit excited her.

  “Well,” she said, “I seldom tell strange men where I rest my head at night, but since that is a condition for ending the evening, I’ll tell you that it’s the westernmost bedroom. There is a willow tree near it. You can’t miss it.”

  “Noted,” Caspian said, grinning. “Have a wonderful evening, Lady Gwendoline.”

  She narrowed her eyes, a delightful thrill spreading through her. “And you, also,” she said. “But I do hope you won’t use such information against me. It would be most uncharitable of you if I acquiesced with your request, and you chose to use my trust against me.”

  “I’m far too honorable for that.”

  And despite the history of mutual disdain between their families, she believed him.

  Chapter 10

  Upon occasion, Caspian Farraday proved himself to be a remarkably impulsive man. It was a flaw he acknowledged and despite making infrequent attempts to quench his impulsivity, Caspian never quite managed to confront his greatest flaw. And so, he stood pacing in his room, trying to decide whether he wanted to quell his growing desire for adventure.

  Two days had passed since Caspian met Lady Gwendoline at the market, and during that time, Caspian kept turning his plan over and over in his mind. Lady Helena’s love letter to Lord Charles was tucked away and locked in the drawer of his desk, but Caspian had read it so many times that he felt as though the words were burned into his memory.

  Lady Gwendoline is quite a lovely woman.

  And he ought not to think that. Caspian’s other flaw, second only to his impulsivity, was his romantic imagination. He’d thought fleetingly of meeting Lady Gwendoline beneath her window and sweeping her away on his mare, the moonlight as their sole companion. It was like something from an old play. Or a love poem.

  And it’s a terrible fantasy; one which I should not indulge.

  It would be highly improper for him to sneak onto any estate grounds, hoping to whisk a lady away for a moonlit adventure, and yet the idea was so mesmerizing, so seductive, that Caspian could not bring himself to abandon it.

  Seeking counsel from his friends was likewise impossible, for Caspian knew already what they would say. Alexander would believe that visiting Lady Gwendoline by night was a delightful opportunity for mischief. Noah would be mortified and reasonable, and James wouldn’t care, unless there was a chance that Lady Florence’s reputation might be marred during the endeavor.

  But I would be careful. And it isn’t as if she wouldn’t enjoy it.

  He remembered how brightly Lady Gwendoline’s ey
es had shown when she spoke of the love she’d discovered between Lord Charles and Lady Helena. She seemed like a lady with a romantic imagination.

  Something we share.

  Caspian flung himself into a chair and tipped his head back, gazing at the pale, lilac curtains. They were nearly the same color as Lady Gwendoline’s dress had been.

  I wonder what she thinks I mean to do. Why does she think I asked about her bedroom window? She must expect me to arrive outside her window one night.

  And he’d kept her waiting.

  Creak.

  Caspian raised his head, a frown pulling at his face. Already, it was late at night. Moonlight swept through the curtains and spilled onto the floor, and for hours, all had been quiet.

  Creak.

  There it was again.

  Caspian quietly rose from the chair and crossed the floor, taking care not to make a sound. He gingerly grasped the edge of the door with the pads of his fingers and carefully peered into the corridor. It was dark, save for the moonlight and a lit candle, carried by a woman in a pale, white chemise. Caspian’s narrowed his eyes, adjusting to the dim light. When he recognized the woman, his breath caught in his throat.

  It was his mother, wandering the halls of the estate by candlelight. As he watched, she went to the nearby staircase and slowly climbed them. Steeling himself, Caspian slipped from his room. He ducked down, slumping into the shadow of the staircase, and watched as Lady Elderdale climbed higher and higher.

  Lady Helena’s room is at the top of those stairs, Caspian thought. What if my mother is going there?

  He followed, slowly and silently. Once his mother reached the top of the stairs, she would need to turn to either the left or the right. Lady Helena’s room was left, and when Caspian’s mother turned, that would be when he could slip away. Hopefully, without being noticed.

  If my poor mother turns around and sees me, I might frighten her half to death!

  Caspian winced, a jolt of guilt shooting through him. But he had to know what this was. He owed it to himself, to his family, and to Lady Gwendoline to learn the truth of what happened between their families.

  His aunt, Lady Helena, who he’d never known, deserved to have her name cleared as a foul seductress. Or as the woman who’d been abducted by a foul man. She deserved to have the true story told.

  Caspian went carefully up the steps, following at a distance. His mother moved quickly and purposefully, and when she reached the top of the stairs, she turned left.

  She must be going to Lady Helena’s room!

  Caspian cleared the last few steps, and although he could not see his mother, he heard a door creak open. Footsteps followed.

  Now what? I could dart into a nearby room and hide until she passes. It can’t be a coincidence that she’s up here. There must be something in Lady Helena’s room. Perhaps, it’s a secret like Lady Gwendoline found in Lord Charles’s room.

  Caspian drew in a steadying breath and turned left. Just before Lady Helena’s room, there was a small room meant for guests. He opened the door, wincing when it creaked, and slipped inside. For a long, tense moment, Caspian stood with his back against the wall, waiting to see if he’d been caught. But silence stretched, and slowly, he felt himself relax.

  Caspian followed along the wall that the guest room shared with Lady Helena’s room. He heard the faint opening and closing of something; it sounded like a wardrobe or maybe a chest of drawers.

  But what would she be looking for in there?

  Caspian pressed himself close against the wall, as if he could force himself to hear more through the wood. There was the faint shuffling of this mother’s feet and a creak. It sounded like the door closing, but Caspian still waited and listened.

  It was a long time before he dared cross the room and open the door. The low creak stretched through the air. Caspian paused and looked down the corridor, ensuring that his mother was truly gone. And she was.

  So Caspian entered Lady Helena’s room. For an instant, he held his breath and stood in the doorway. The room was empty and coated in a thick layer of white dust. Caspian slowly stepped inside.

  I wonder if Lady Gwendoline also felt this way when she first gazed upon the unopened room of Lord Charles.

  It was like stepping back in time. Caspian crossed the old carpet beneath his feet. The furniture was covered with linens to protect it, although it seemed like a waste to keep it all in a room that nobody ever entered.

  Now, what was my mother looking at?

  He drifted through the room, trying to decide precisely where along the wall he’d heard the wardrobe or door opening from, but it was difficult to say. Caspian walked through the attached bedroom. His gaze drifted over the bed and the nearby furniture. One piece of furniture was only partially covered; a bit of the polished wood peeked out from beneath the linen that had been draped over it.

  Scarcely daring to breathe, Caspian lifted the bit of fabric. It was a vanity. Caspian pulled open the drawer of the vanity, noting how the sound resembled one that he’d heard moments earlier. Inside, there was an assortment of objects. There were a couple of letters and pressed flowers, a pen, and a few baubles.

  Was my mother looking for something in here?

  Caspian shifted through hairpins and a brooch. Finally, his gaze settled on a small key. Maybe that was what his mother had wanted, but what did that key unlock? Caspian turned it over in his hand. It couldn’t be very large whatever it was.

  So Caspian went about the room, pulling up linens and unveiling furniture throughout the room. And at last, he found a small, gold-trimmed box. “Please, work,” he muttered.

  Caspian stuck the key into the hole, and when he twisted the key, the box opened without difficulty. He opened the box. Jewelry. Although Caspian had never seen Lady Helena in person, he’d seen portraits of her. And he’d seen the family heirlooms in various portraits. There were the famous emerald earrings that were designed for his great-great grandmother. The sapphire necklace designed as a bridal gift to his three times’ great-aunt.

  And a heavy, gold locket. He lifted the piece of jewelry up and squinted at it in the darkness. The gold was etched with elegant, frost-like curls and set with tiny, white diamonds.

  I have never seen this before, he thought, And surely, I would have heard of something like this.

  He frowned and pressed his nail against the latch, opening the locket. Inside, there were two locks of hair. One was as gold as sunlight; the other was dark.

  Lady Helena’s hair was dark. And Lord Charles’s hair had been sunlight blond.

  “This can’t be a coincidence,” Caspian muttered. “Not after everything that Lady Gwendoline has found.”

  He thought of the letter tucked away in his desk drawer, the one where Lady Helena declared her love for Lord Charles, the family nemesis.

  Caspian closed the box and returned the key to its place. Then, he hurried down the steps, the locket clenched tightly in his hand. He went into his room and retrieved his great coat, pulling it over his shoulders.

  Why wait? Did I not imply that Lady Gwendoline ought to expect me?

  With this new information in hand, now seemed like the most appropriate time to go. Caspian latched the locket around his neck and strode through the corridors. The estate was quiet at the late hour, but he was still careful. It wouldn’t be impossible to explain why he was about so late at night, but it would be something he didn’t wish to deal with if it could be avoided.

  When he stepped outside, he allowed himself the luxury of breathing just a little. Because this was the London estate, there was no cover of forests behind the grand manor, but the night provided enough protection as Caspian strode to the stables.

  He found his white mare, wild and awake, and patted her flank. “I’m sorry about coming at such a late hour, girl,” he murmured.

  Caspian saddled the horse and walked her out past the estate. Then, he mounted and coaxed her into a trot. It was the outskirts of London, in the fashionab
le part of the city, so aside from a few people loitering along the street, all was quiet. He traveled north, heading to Lord Newhost’s primary London residence.

  This will be my first time visiting the property, he thought.

  Because of the feud between their families, Caspian had never visited, but he knew where the place was. Soon, he found the border of the property, which was surrounded by bright, hopeful pink and red blossoms.

  He slowed his pace and sat at a distance for a few moments. This was where Lady Gwendoline lived, and presently, she would be sleeping.

  Perhaps, I ought to return home and call on her at a more acceptable hour.