An Earl To Remember (The Yorkshire Downs Series - Love, Hearts and Challenges) (A Regency Romance Story)

by Jasmine Ashford

  “I will go out to the terrace,” she said quickly. “Just for a moment. Excuse me, my lord.” She spoke with tightness, as if she choked. She couldn't breathe...

  Lord Oscar looked at her oddly. His dark blue eyes had a shuttered look, as if he was upset by her sudden escape. “Of course, my lady.”

  “Thank you...” she trailed off, already heading to the terrace.

  Out in the fresh crisp evening, she drew in deep shuddering gasps of cool air. She could hear the sounds of a gigue drifting from the hall and knew that the first dance had already started. The music was light and happy and mixed with laughter, voices, and applause. Everything sounded genial and diverting. However, she did not want to go back in. She did not want to see anyone. At that moment, she felt as if she wanted to take the carriage to the cliffs and live out the rest of her days in holy retreat. At least a simple, isolated life seemed less complicated than this.

  “I do not understand this,” she said to herself. She leaned on the stone balustrade, looking out at the park across the street. She could smell the scents of lilacs and honeysuckle and hear somewhere the passage of coaches, muffled and distant on the road beyond the building.

  “Why is he here?” she asked herself. “He was in Yorkshire! He must have come to meet them...” she trailed off.

  Them. Her captors and interrogators. She was certain he was one of them. That explained everything! Why the young man who spoke up for her had seemed so familiar. His height, his walk. Why his voice was the same voice she had heard now.

  I know he was one of them.

  Emilia knew herself. She was not fanciful. She was not given to wild, unlikely tales. She also had a good ear and she had heard that voice before.

  If he was with them, why was he so friendly at the ball in Yorkshire? If he was with them, why did he stop their leader from harming me? Why does he seek to protect me, if he is in league with my faceless foe?

  None of it made sense. Emilia could not see how it could. All she knew was that she could not stay at this gathering, in this hall, when he was among the guests.

  Walking quickly inside, she paused in the marble arch of the doorway, scanning the bright candlelit space for Bronson or her cousin.

  She spotted Emilia talking to a tall, broad-shouldered man in military uniform. They seemed to be having a wonderful joke, because they both laughed uproariously at something Evelyn said. Evelyn turned, flushed and smiling, toward her. Her face fell.

  “Emilia! My dear! What is it? You look pale...come, sit and have a drink. Giles? Fetch something...”

  She was calling to the military officer, already walking with Emilia to a chair, but Emilia stopped mid-stride. She clung to her cousin's wrist with tight fingers.

  “Emilia?” her cousin asked, raising pale brows in a frown. “What is it? You look worried!”

  “Evelyn, my cousin?” Emilia cleared her throat. “I don't wish to be ungracious or throw away your kindness, but...” she wet her lips. “But can I please go home?”

  Evelyn did not even hesitate. “Of course, my dear. I understand. Of course.”

  Propelling her to the door with a gentle grip on her wrist, Evelyn walked out of the vast entrance and into the cool night air. She had a discreet discussion with the doorman, who sent a torch-boy into the street to hail a Hackney coach to take Emilia back to the townhouse.

  “Take care, dear,” Evelyn said, helping her up into the carriage when the driver halted before the step. “Ask Wallace if you need the doctor,” she added, frowning up at her concerned.

  “I will, cousin,” Emilia said. Her voice was a whisper, her face white and drawn. “Thank you for your kindness,” she added automatically. “I will.”

  “Don't mention it,” Evelyn said firmly, and the driver closed the door.

  Emilia waved through the window, feeling each movement a task. Then she leaned back and closed her eyes, exhausted.

  Who is Lord Oscar, and why has he come, so suddenly and indelibly, into my life?

  CHAPTER TEN

  BROTHERLY REGARD

  BROTHERLY REGARD

  Emilia woke early the next morning. She rolled over in bed, still weary but too worried to sleep.

  Who is Oscar? And why is he haunting me?

  She shuddered. She reached for her silk robe and drew it around her shoulders. She went to the window and looked out. Out in the street, the mist from the Thames still hung thick and hazy, the light of torches or coach lanterns haloed and eerie in the early morning gloom.

  I do not even know his last name.

  That was another odd thing. He had introduced himself as “Lord Oscar”, which, though it was the befitting way to address the eldest son of an earl or duke, still told her nothing about who he was. She had never met him before, and then suddenly he appeared in London, a mere matter of days after she did? No, the same day she arrived. He was there with the brigands – she knew it.

  Emilia shuddered and reached for the bell. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror on the table – she looked pale and worried, her hair loose and tousled and dark circles below her tired eyes.

  “I need to solve this mystery.”

  It was starting to prey on her mind. The worry about the debts was eating at her. She did not know how long she had to solve the mystery, but she had the feeling that it must be soon.

  She waited for Janet to arrive, feeling restless and glanced at the clock, noting it was twenty minutes past eight. She was sure Evelyn and Bronson would not wish to wake early – she had no idea how long they remained at Almacks, but was sure they had stayed many hours.

  I will break my fast alone, she decided. Then I will go to Henry.

  She had come to a decision while she waited and, as Janet fussed around the room and combed out her hair, chattering while Emilia sat at the dressing table below the ivory-handled hair brush, she filled out her ideas.

  Henry, her younger brother, was in London. She had not seen him for almost a year, but he was always close to her and would be able to help. He lived almost permanently in London now, where he looked after the affairs of the estate and acted as an attaché for the navy.

  Henry would know about Lucian's affairs.

  She was sure of it. Her husband and Henry had always been affable company, and if Lucian had not confided in her, perhaps he had done so in Henry. In addition, Henry knew a great deal about the trade in London – he had been here overseeing Papa's investments for more than five years, after all – and so perhaps he would be the one to ask about debts and business.

  As Janet helped her to dress, Emilia ran through some thoughts of what she could ask Henry. She would have to tell him about the incident – perhaps not the particulars. Henry had inherited something of their father's quick reactions and he might charge off on some ill-thought-out vengeance attempt if he knew anyone threatened her.

  “There you go, milady, lovely as always.”

  Janet stepped back, smoothing away a minute wrinkle in the back of Emilia's close-fitting slate-blue gown. Emilia nodded her thanks.

  “Could I take breakfast now, do you think?”

  “Of course, my lady!” Janet chuckled. “Cook gets it all ready at eight of the clock. You can find it in a salver in the breakfast room. Or I could bring some pastries here, if you would prefer to stay within?”

  Emilia smiled her thanks. “No, thank you, Janet. I can venture out into the house, I think. You have certainly prepared me for public view.”

  Janet chuckled. “Oh, aye, milady. Public view, she says! Not heard that one, milady. Very good.”

  She was still chuckling while Emilia walked, light footed, through the silent house.

  As she had predicted, Evelyn and Bronson had not yet risen. She drew up a seat and waited while Wallace fetched the tea.

  When she had finished her breakfast, she tiptoed back to her bedchamber. She wrote a short note to Evelyn. “Have gone to visit Henry. Will be back by luncheon. Greetings.”

  She folded the note and l
eft it on the side-board in the hallway, and then walked briskly out into the cool morning air.

  Wallace stared at her, brows raised.

  “Are you off somewhere so early, milady?”

  “It is half an hour past nine,” Emilia said mildly. “Yes. I shall visit my brother. Lord Henry. If you could perhaps wave down a Hackney coach for me?”

  “Of course, my lady. Benson!” he shouted.

  A puckish youth with a shock of pale hair appeared as if materializing from the stonework. He grinned at Emilia. “Yes sir?”

  “Fetch a cab for her ladyship. And none of your cheek, mind you.”

  “Yes sir. Reserved for you it is, sir.”

  Emilia grinned as the butler blew out his cheeks in affront and the urchin scampered away to hail her cab.

  He was efficient, if forward, and ten minutes later Emilia was on her way across town to Abermale House, where Henry found his lodging.

  The house was in the gloomy, old-money part of town, near to where, she recalled, Everett lived. She shuddered.

  Of all the people who might be responsible for her kidnapping, he seemed the most likely. Who was Oscar though? Why was he involved?

  Wishing that there was some answer to her questions, and hoping to find it, Emilia alighted as the coach awaited her.

  “Thank you!” she shouted to the driver as he rolled the coach away up the gray, mist-laced streets.

  “Don't mention it!” he shouted back, raising a hand in a wave. Then he was lost in the mist and the door was before Emilia.

  She knocked.

  A gaunt older man with silvery hair opened it. He gazed at her. His eyes widened.

  “My lady Emilia?”

  “Yes, Harrogate. It's me. Is his lordship at home?”

  “Of course, my lady. He's in the drawing room. Come, follow me. He will be so surprised!”

  Emilia swallowed hard as she followed the steward up the stairs to the upper floor. The house was exactly as she recalled it to be. Small, but elegant with its long wooden staircase under a soaring, arched roof. She felt a pang of loss – she and Lucian had visited Henry here together when first he had taken lodging here. She could almost hear her husband's warm laugh as Henry showed them around and he commented on how small it was. Henry had grinned, golden-brown eyes laughing. “It might be small,” he had said, laughingly, “but it is expensive.” They had spent the day together, and had tea and then taken a walk in St. James Park. It had been a lovely day, Emilia thought, full of happy laughter.

  I wish Lucian was here now, she thought sadly. He would know all about this. He would know what to do. He always did.

  Failing Lucian's physical presence, Henry might be able to help her with this. She waited while the steward knocked on the wooden door frame and then stood back to usher her in through the open door to the drawing room.

  “Emilia?”

  “Henry!”

  Emilia rushed into the room, arms wide to embrace her little brother. Henry, named for their maternal great-uncle, was still exactly as she remembered him from almost a year ago: tall, golden-haired and golden-eyed, he was a softer faced, kindly looking version of their flamboyant father.

  She walked into his embrace and the two siblings clung to each other, taking comfort from their deep connection. In this time, when everything was odd and uncertain, his unchanged familiarity was deeply appreciated.

  “Emilia,” Henry said after a moment. He stepped back and looked her over with grave eyes. “You look worried. Have you eaten? Come, tell me what the matter is,” he added, showing her to a comfortable damask wing-back chair by the small fireplace.

  “Henry,” Emilia said quietly, “I need to ask you something.”

  “Anything, dearest sister. What has been troubling you so?”

  “I...” Emilia felt a tear run down her cheek and was surprised to find she had started crying. The kindness and familiarity of her brother moved her deeply. “Oh, Henry! I need your help...”

  “Anything, sister. Is it cash?”

  Emilia shook her head, laughing shakily. “No, brother dear. My husband left me with a generous allowance. Though, cash is close to the subject of my concern.”

  “Yes?” Henry asked, gesturing for the servant to leave the tea and cakes on the low mahogany table between them, and then leave. “You are worried about your future income?”

  Emilia shook her head sadly. “No, dear. I know that is assured, though I wonder about that now...” she paused. “Henry, what did you know of Lucian's affairs?”

  “I know he managed them like a monk,” Henry said frankly. “By which I mean ruthlessly, precisely and with no quarter.” He shook his head, chuckling. “I do not speak ill of your dearly-departed husband and my good friend, my dear – but the man was frugal. And that's the kindest term.”

  Emilia let out a shaky breath. “I know,” she agreed. “Which is why I cannot believe...?”

  “Believe what?”

  “That he had run up vast debts.”

  “What? Lucian?” Henry could not believe it either, clearly, for he laughed. “No, sister. That is very odd. Lucian watched every cent – you know that and so do I.”

  “I know,” she agreed sadly. “Can I tell you something secret?”

  “Of course.”

  She sighed. “I was...approached...by some men. They claimed that Lucian was in debt and I needed to pay or...” she bit her lip, feeling herself start to cry. “Or something would happen to my family.”

  “What?” Henry sprang to his feet. He came to kneel beside her, reaching out to hold her. “No, sister. Whoever they were, they had no claim. I am certain. And how dare they threaten you? No one with any legal case would do so.” He stroked her hair. She hiccupped and the tears slowly stopped.

  “Now,” Henry said, standing to pour her tea. “Did you recognize these men? Had you met before?”

  “I don't know, Henry,” Emilia said and, when he looked at her, surprised, she explained sadly, “they were wearing masks.”

  Henry stared at her. “Sister..?”

  “They were in the woods, in a clearing. There were five of them. I never saw their faces.”

  Henry looked into her eyes, taking her hand in his own across the table. His own eyes were so wide she could see the white around the edges of the iris. “Sister,” he said quietly. “What those men did is abominable and they clearly have no legal claim, or why hide their faces from you? Can you remember anything about them?”

  “No, Henry,” she said, upset. “I cannot remember. There were five of them, they wore masks. I can describe them no other way – I saw nothing that would tell me any hint of who they were beneath them.”

  She wanted to say that she had suspicions about one of them: she was almost sure it was Oscar. However, she did not want to tell anyone, at least not until she better understood his role and her own sentiment. He had saved her life. She did not want her brother to challenge Oscar or anything impulsive – not before she knew more. Besides, she did not even know his last name. Who would she say he was?

  “Five of them...” Henry had stood and was looking out of the window, but now he turned back, a frown on his face.

  “Yes,” Emilia nodded.

  “That's very odd,” he muttered.

  Emilia raised a hand to her throat, feeling suddenly frightened. Had they threatened Henry? “Why, brother? What happened?”

  “Harrogate told me that men came to the house – I think he said there were five of them. They were not clear stating their business. He told them to leave.”

  “What?” Emilia cried. “When?”

  “Months ago, sister. I cannot remember exactly. Shall we ask him?” He was already going to pull the bell.

  Emilia nodded wordlessly.

  The tall, ascetic man arrived a moment later and waited in the doorway.

  “Harrogate?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “You asked me if I was expecting some men to visit and described a story that seemed
peculiar. Can you remember any more about it?”

  Harrogate scratched his head. “I recall the incident, sir. It was three months ago. Then, when I was struggling with that tailor who insisted we pay at once. Yes. It was odd, sir. Oddest thing was that they were looking for Lord Lonsdale and not for you.”

  Emilia stared at the man. Lord Lonsdale? That was Lucian! She felt a sudden unexpected rage well up inside her.

  “Lucian is dead!” she exclaimed. “Did they not know that?”

  She felt herself collapse back in the chair, energy expended. The rage was not so much anger as deep sadness, and she felt tears track their way down her face.

  “I know that, my lady. And I am sorry.” Harrogate said sadly. “Forgive me for my insensitivity.”

  “It is not your fault, Harrogate,” Emilia said, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. “I wish I knew who those men had been.” Her voice was strained.

  “Can you describe them? Were they masked?”

  “No, sir,” Harrogate said slowly. “They were ordinary looking folk, if you see my meaning, sir. Nothing that made them stand out.”

  “There were five of them?”

  “No, milord. There were three, as I recall it.”

  “What manner of man were they, do you think?” Henry asked. “Traders, lawyers, officers?”

  The man looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “They were...just ordinary, sir. Nothing to mark them out as one thing or another.” He lifted a shoulder in a helpless shrug. “They wore no uniform, nothing remarkable. One had a peruke on, as I recall. But nothing else to mark them out and I don't think I would spot them in a crowd of five, sir. I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be,” Henry said. He was already pacing. “You have done well to tell us of this matter. We know much more, now, than we did before.”

  The steward glanced from Henry to Emilia and back again. “You require anything else, milord?” he asked carefully.

  “No, thank you, Harrogate. You may go.”

  “Thank you, milord.” He bowed and left.