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

by Jasmine Ashford

  She rolled her eyes and stifled another yawn. At this rate, there was no way she would be able to remain awake for that long!

  Settling back on the pillows, she closed her eyes and found that, very soon, she was feeling her thoughts blur and calm into sleep.

  When Emilia next awoke, she could hear low voices in the corridor. The sound disturbed her until she realized it was the maid and the retainer, talking about something or other. She sat up and stretched. The clock showed eight-thirty.

  “Not bad,” Emilia said to herself. She felt refreshed. She also felt her heart thumping with a strange anticipation. Did she really dare to meet Oscar in the park? She had to if she wanted to find out more.

  She slipped out of bed and pulled the bell. Janet appeared, bright and lively but surprised to see her up.

  “Milady! It's early! You're not poorly?”

  “No,” Emilia said. “I simply woke and could not fall asleep again. If you could help me dress? I think I shall take tea and then a turn in the street?”

  Janet blinked. Clearly she had never known a lady to rise early and take a brisk walk, but Emilia often did so when she could not fall back to sleep.

  “Good, my lady. Can I fetch you a tray?”

  “Yes, please,” Emilia nodded. “That would be nice.”

  As Janet fussed about the room and then went to the wardrobe room to find the gown Emilia wished to wear, Emilia sat in the chair opposite the window and thought about what her real feelings were about meeting Oscar.

  If I am truly indifferent, why did I choose my most becoming promenade dress?

  She shook her head at herself. She had selected the muslin decorated with little sprigs of lavender – one of the new dresses her mother had ordered for her before she left for London. It had a becoming neckline and the lavender blue brought out her blue eyes.

  Emilia smiled at herself in the mirror. She knew she was far from indifferent to Oscar. She just was not sure if she was terribly shocking to feel this way.

  “Here we are, madam,” Janet said, panting as she returned with an armful of lacy clothes and petticoats. “As you asked for.”

  Emilia thanked her and stood, arms out, while Janet drew on the various garments, tightening the hooks of her corset and buttoning on her gown.

  When she was dressed and had broken her fast on a scone or two, she headed downstairs to the hallway.

  Wallace opened the door for her and she went briskly out into the street on the pretext of breathing some fresh air. The instant her feet were on the stone pavement she turned right, heading to the main road with the intent of hailing a hackney carriage to take her to St. James'.

  In the coach, she felt her heart pounding. What she was doing was dangerous, foolish, and mad. It also made her feel happy in a way nothing did since Lucian passed away.

  I am really, truly alive.

  The park was almost empty and, as Emilia stepped through the railings, she felt her heart filled with a sudden fear. What if she was accosted by some brigands? This part of London was not completely free of such things. What if she had misplaced her trust? If Oscar had lured her here on the pretext of extorting the debt by force?

  She shuddered.

  I have to trust. To believe him.

  She stepped along the path, heading for where she had last seen Oscar. She was surprised when she did not spot his tall, slender form at once. She glanced about wildly.

  The sun had risen, bathing the tall conifer and poplars with golden light. She glanced at the foot of the largest, where stood a wrought iron bench. There she noticed a man, dressed in a black suit and top-hat, reading a newspaper.

  She smiled. The air of nonchalance made her guess immediately who it was. She walked across the path.

  “Good morning?”

  He looked up. His blue eyes were not surprised, as if he expected to meet her at nine of the clock in the morning. As if this were entirely normal, not ridiculously dangerous.

  “My lady.” He stood and bowed. He smiled. “You honor me with your presence.”

  She felt herself blush as she curtsied, and bowed her head to hide it. Emilia Sumpter, you are acting like a little girl. She tried to chide herself out of it, but she could not help the fact that her heart was soaring at the sight of him.

  “I needed to talk to you,” she said slowly.

  He nodded. “Shall we walk?”

  Emilia agreed. He crooked his elbow and she placed her hand in it, feeling her heart thump. Linking arms with him meant her body was pressed close to his, her shoulder touching his and her hip bumping him. She had not walked this closely to anyone, besides her sister or Evelyn, since Lucian passed away. Even walking with him had been different -a comfortable sharing, not a wild elation.

  “You wanted to ask me something?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She paused and he turned to face her. “I wanted to ask you what all this is about.”

  Oscar sighed. “I will tell you what I know. But you must promise to tell none of this to anyone?”

  Emilia swallowed hard. “I promise, Oscar. With all my heart.”

  “Good.” He smiled at her with peculiar gentleness. “Then, let us walk across the lawns where we will not be so easily overheard.”

  Emilia nodded and together they headed out across the lawn toward the stand of poplars. The morning was golden, the breeze shivering the leaves of the trees and Emilia's heart flew with the bluebirds that sang there.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SHADOWY CONFESSIONS

  SHADOWY CONFESSIONS

  “I was a young man when I joined the group.”

  Emilia looked up at Oscar as he began his story. He looked guarded, frowning out across the grounds as if lost in the memory of those times.

  “How old were you?”

  “Two and twenty. You understand, I think, the naive optimism of being two and twenty years old.”

  Emilia nodded. She had been that age when she married Lucian. She remembered her free, happy delight. Her trusting approach.

  “Well, then,” Oscar gave her a weary grin. “You can, perhaps, forgive a young man for losing his way?”

  “Of course.”

  “I joined the group because I believed they would make a difference. That they could change things. Raise people from suffering and poverty. Build a better world.”

  “What is the group?”

  “They are...the ones you saw me with first in London.”

  “Oh.” Emilia raised a brow. He meant the masked, cloaked aggressors who had threatened her safety. It was hard to imagine them helping anyone! However, she held her tongue. Whatever had happened, he would tell her in time.

  “Yes.” He nodded once. “I am sure your opinion of them is as low as mine is, now. In any case, I find myself...opposed to them and all they stand for. Not just ideologically, mind. I cannot claim kinship to any group who would threaten or harm you.”

  Emilia swallowed. Her throat was tight. She looked into his eyes.

  “Oscar...”

  “Hush,” he whispered. He leaned forward and his hand rested on her shoulder. She stepped into his arms. His mouth found hers.

  The kiss was chaste, or as close to chaste as they could be – his lips brushing lightly over hers, their breath mixing, noses touching.

  When he drew back, he was breathing as she was – slowly and heavily.

  “Oscar...”

  “Emilia.” He looked into her eyes. “Forgive me?”

  She sighed. “There is nothing to forgive.”

  He smiled. This was a different smile – an innocent, relieved one that made his eyes shine like polished crystals of sapphire. He breathed out raggedly. “Good,” he said.

  “Good?” Emilia raised an eyebrow.

  “That means it would not be too terrible to repeat my crime.”

  Emilia laughed. Her laugh was high and unrestrained, mixing with the morning. Only after she had done so did she realize she had not laughed like that for years.

&nbs
p; “That is so, young sir,” she agreed teasingly. “But first, you have an explanation to deliver.”

  He smiled, and then sighed. He looked down at his hands. “I will tell you what I can.”

  “This...group...my late husband joined too?”

  Oscar sighed. “That, I do not know. We do not all know each other – the masks were not for you alone. All I can tell you is that he was...involved somehow.”

  Emilia sighed explosively. The tension that had been within her since the incident was abruptly released and she felt weak and shaky.

  “Oscar? I would like to sit down.”

  “Of course, my lady.” He put his arm under hers and held her as she walked unsteadily back toward the seat.

  When they were sitting, she turned back to him.

  “Did I mention to you that three men were searching for my husband?”

  Oscar stared. “Three men? Why, no. What manner of men...?”

  Emilia shrugged. “I do not know, Lord Hampton. They were in town three months ago, or thereabouts. They inquired at my brother's lodgings.”

  Oscar went tense. He almost stood, springing into action. Then he sat down again. “Where are your brother's lodgings?”

  “Abermale house. In Hillhead Street?”

  “I know the place,” Oscar said. He looked down at his hands. “That is odd. Very, very odd.”

  Emilia felt her heart clench. “Why?”

  “Well, approximately three months ago our group...well, never you mind. How may I say this? Declared retribution on a certain man, shall we say?”

  “You mean my husband?”

  “I now think it must have been.”

  Emilia let out an explosive breath. She felt Oscar move his shoulder, reaching for her hand and she took his, drawing comfort from his presence. She had heard something of the underground networks – secret societies, conspiracies, plots...but had dismissed half as fanciful tales and the other half as youths trying to find a sense of purpose in the world. Now here she was, sitting beside a man who actually belonged to one. He was neither a fiction nor a youth, nor were the men who had pledged to hunt her down.

  “Oscar?”

  “Yes, my dear?”

  She swallowed. There was no reason for him to call her so – in fact, as a dowager it was somewhat inappropriate – but she could not find it in her heart to be anything but moved by it.

  “What are these debts? The one that must be paid?”

  Oscar sighed. He looked out over the field a moment, eyes narrowed, clearly in thought. Then he turned back to her. “I do not know.”

  Emilia looked into his intense eyes. Did she believe him? She could see no guile there, no deception.

  She squeezed his hand and he tightened his grip on hers.

  “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

  He shifted so that he looked into her eyes. He raised a hand and put it on her shoulder, making her look at him.

  “I will always tell you the truth, my lady. I swore to.”

  Emilia swallowed. She felt as if those eyes were drawing her in, pulling her as the waves on a lake draw boats into the depths. She could not help it. She was falling into those eyes. Sinking. Drowning.

  She made a sound that was half despair, half wonder. He moved and their lips met.

  As they kissed again, Emilia felt her heart take wing. She closed her eyes. Forgive me, Lucian.

  Later, when they had said their farewells and he had walked out through the side gate, she proceeding through the park to the main gate, and saw a falcon. She stared. He hovered in the morning air, brown wings folded, about to stoop. He fluttered and then circled. Three times. Then he flew away, a harsh cry rending the air, full of savage joy as he swooped down over her and vanished somewhere beyond view.

  Emilia swallowed. She had never seen a falcon in London before.

  They hunted the woodlands and fields around the city, but here? There was no reason for it to be here.

  As she walked through the gate, feeling shaken, she recalled something. The falcon had been Lucian's signet emblem.

  She closed her eyes, face drenched in sudden tears. I think Lucian knows of me and Oscar. And he forgives me. He wishes me joy.

  She cried soundlessly all the way home. Her tears were tears of relief, healing and cleansing. When the carriage arrived outside Chelsea house, she was smiling in a way she had not smiled since she had first met Lucian.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SHARING THE INFORMATION

  SHARING THE INFORMATION

  “Emilia! Oh, good Heavens! I was so, so worried!”

  Evelyn appeared in the hallway on the stairs almost the instant Emilia had entered the house. She ran to embrace her cousin and then looked into her face. Emilia was pale, her face streaked with salt tears. She was also radiant.

  My cousin? Where were you? With whom?

  Evelyn had absolutely no desire to spy on her cousin. It was simply too delightful to see her so joyful. Was that not, after all, her aim in inviting her here? To cheer her up? Help her find joy again?

  Swallowing her momentary confusion, Evelyn linked her arm with her cousin's, walking up the stairs with her.

  “My dear Emilia,” she smiled. “I am so pleased you are safe. When I could not find you, I was so concerned!”

  Emilia smiled fondly. “I did not go far. And I told Janet I would take a turn before the household woke.”

  “Janet did tell me,” Evelyn agreed. “But when you were out for a while, I began to grow concerned. Silly me.”

  Emilia shook her head. “It is not silly to worry about those we care for, Evelyn.”

  “True,” Evelyn agreed. “Thank heavens I have no child! I would not let them leave the house!”

  They both laughed fondly. Neither woman had children, though, for Evelyn, Emilia considered, it was not too late. Emilia herself was almost eight years senior to her, which, in her mind, ruled her out. I shall just have to be a good aunt for Lucas, Constance's little boy. And for whatever children Henry's wife might have – when he finds a wife.

  Thinking of Henry brought her thoughts back to the present. She turned to Evelyn, who was saying something, half of which she had missed.

  “...and I was so shocked! It never was so dangerous in London.”

  “Sorry?” Emilia raised a brow. “I did not hear you?”

  “Sorry, dear – I should not have mentioned it.”

  “No, I was not offended,” Emilia smiled. “I simply was distracted. If you could tell me again?”

  Evelyn cleared her throat. “I heard your brother's retainer was killed. In the streets three nights ago.”

  Emilia stared. “Harrogate? But...it's not possible! I saw him just a few days back...” she trailed off, leaning against the wall unsteadily. “How did he die?”

  “Attacked by thugs,” Evelyn said quietly. “As I said, the London streets should not be so dangerous.”

  Emilia's mind whirled. Harrogate had been so full of life, when she last saw him. He had told her and Henry both about...

  “Evelyn?” she whispered.

  “Yes, cousin? What is it? You look afraid.”

  “It was Harrogate who told us about the men. That's why, isn't it? They killed him?”

  Evelyn sighed. Emilia could see that she was not shocked – she, too, must have thought of that, probably before Emilia herself had.

  “I thought that, too,” Evelyn agreed. Her delicate face looked weary. “I want to believe otherwise. But it seems too convenient.”

  Emilia nodded. She felt as if the floor had been pulled out from beneath her. If the men were linked to the masked men Oscar knew of, then that would mean they saw her visit Henry. That meant she was in danger. She was being watched.

  “Evelyn?” She reached out to her cousin, feeling her legs tremble. How much danger had she faced, when she left the house that morning? Had someone seen her leave? Had someone seen her visit Oscar?

  She closed her eyes, feeling faint. She let Evelyn
lead her to the parlor and help her find a seat.

  When she was leaning back in a wing-back chair, her head resting on the high, padded back, she opened her eyes.

  “It was them, wasn't it? The men in the woods. The men who killed Lucian?”

  Evelyn was standing, ready to call a maid. She shook her head wearily. “I do not know, Emilia. I think they were probably the men who threatened you, yes. However, did they kill Lord Sumpter? I do not think they did.”

  Emilia breathed out shakily. “You think not?”

  “No. Let me call for tea and then I shall tell you why.”

  “Thank you.”

  Emilia allowed her cousin to fuss around her, putting a cushion under her shoulders and pouring her fresh, fragrant tea. Then she sat up and turned to face her.

  “Yes?”

  “I do not think it can be one group.”

  “How so?”

  “Because the ones who visited Henry, the ones who asked about Lucian, did not know he had passed away.”

  Emilia sighed explosively. “You are right, cousin. I was wrong.”

  “Well, only half wrong,” Evelyn smiled fondly. “And in any case, that still leaves us with two questions.”

  “Yes?”

  “What was the debt? And why were the men looking for Lucian, three months ago?”

  Emilia swallowed. She knew the answer – or thought she knew – to at least one question. However, she had promised to tell no one what Oscar had divulged. If she did, would he be killed by the group, whoever they were? She wanted so desperately to tell Evelyn, sure that her observant outlook would allow her to see clues Emilia herself missed. However, she dared not risk it.

  Evelyn was looking at her strangely, and Emilia sighed.

  “I am tired, my cousin,” she explained. “I did not sleep much last night.”

  “I too,” Evelyn agreed. “I will take a rest after dinner so I can remain awake at Lady Epsom's recital...” she trailed off, smiling wickedly. “I would hate to offend the lady by falling asleep!”

  Emilia laughed. “I agree. I think that is a good idea.”