Love Regency Style

by Samantha Holt

  Jane took a deep breath and let it out, quite happy Gar­rett was still trapped inside her. “Maybe for a few hours,” Jane murmured in amusement, “But I rather think he will need reminding quite often.” In mere moments, sleep and sweet dreams overcame them both.

  “Tell me your good news,” Joshua urged before he took another fork full of beef to his lips. He closed his eyes and savored the rich gravy, briefly wondering if the innkeeper’s wife would share her recipe. The generous meal had been brought to their private parlor on the second floor of an inn outside of Southall, the aroma from the covered platter so enticing the duke hurried his wife into a chair at the small dining table before she’d had a chance to turn from where she stood star­ing at the fire. He barely had her properly seated before he was pulling his own chair under him so he could begin eating as soon as the food was placed on the table.

  “Good news?” Charlotte repeated, her own forkful of potatoes held in midair as she regarded her husband. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she stated with a shake of her head.

  Joshua swallowed before cocking his head to one side. Despite the long day of travel, he thought Charlotte looked as fresh and lovely as she had when they’d left Mayfair that morning. Having spent the past few days as guests of Char­lotte’s mother and father at Ellsworth House and knowing the next week would be spent in the company of the Earl of Gisborn and his new wife in Oxfordshire, Joshua was relieved to be alone with his duchess for this part of the trip. He gave Charlotte a look of disbelief and set his utensils on his plate. “You’ve been … smiling. All day. I watched you in the coach …”

  “You were sleeping!” Charlotte accused with a grin, her own fork landing with a clatter onto her plate.

  “Was not,” Joshua replied with a shake of his head. “Well, except for when you slept on my shoulder, and then I allowed myself a bit of a cat nap, but only for a moment,” he amended, the part of his face not covered by his leather mask showing an expression of mock seriousness.

  Charlotte took a deep breath and allowed the air to leave her slowly. Perhaps now would be an appropriate time to share her news with Joshua, she considered. She only wished she knew how he would react. “I do have news,” she finally admit­ted. “But I must implore you to answer a few questions before I can share it.”

  Joshua frowned. “All right,” he reluctantly agreed, his one eyebrow cocked in uncertainty.

  “Hypothetically, let’s say …”

  “Hypothetically?” Joshua repeated, his eyebrow still arched up.

  “Yes,” Charlotte said with a nod. “Say you’re a nobleman …”

  “I am a nobleman.”

  “Yes, well then, this shouldn’t be too difficult for you to imagine,” she countered, her tone teasing. “You’ve recently taken a wife …”

  “I have indeed.”

  Charlotte bit her lower lip and gave her husband a low­ering glance. “And she’s discovered, or realized, rather, that she’s …” Charlotte allowed the sentence to trail off as she stared at Joshua, uncertainty crossing her features. Her shoulders slumped as she shook her head.

  “She’s ..?” Joshua repeated, leaning forward in anticipa­tion. At the sight of her sudden sadness, hurt filled his eyes. “She’s … She’s made an awful mistake. She … she cannot abide the sight of her husband. And wonders now if her new hus­band will grant her permission to seek a divorce …”

  “No!” Charlotte retorted, wondering briefly if his com­ments were meant in jest or if he was serious. “That’s not it at all!” she countered, wondering how he could have come to that conclusion.

  Joshua stood up from the table, one hand gripping the edge in an effort to steady himself. “Christ, Lottie. Now? You had me convinced you loved me. In spite of …” He used his other hand to wave over the side of his face covered by the leather mask. “In spite of everything,” he managed to get out.

  He wasn’t jesting. “I do love you,” Charlotte insisted, ris­ing from the table a bit too quickly, alarmed by his curse and stunned by his accusation. How could he think otherwise? How could he ..? Suddenly lightheaded, she swayed and tried to catch herself on the edge of the table. “Oh!” she managed to get out before a blanket of gray covered her vision.

  “Lottie!” Joshua moved around the table and caught his wife before she fell to the floor. “Charlotte, darling, wake up!” he shouted, lifting her into his arms. He thought about shout­ing for a doctor but realized Charlotte had merely fainted. What have I done? he wondered before chastising himself for thinking the worst upon hearing her words.

  Joshua moved Charlotte towards the parlor’s settee, keep­ing his attention on her fluttering eyelashes as he lowered her to the cushions. Following her down, he pressed one hand against the side of her cheek. “Charlotte, my sweet,” he whis­pered. “Please be all right.”

  “Oh, Joshua,” she whispered in response, a tear escap­ing the corner of her eye. It left a moist trail as it slid down her temple. Placing her hand over his, she held onto it as she guided it down the front of her gown until it rested on her belly. “She hasn’t made a mistake,” she continued in a whisper. “Well, that is, unless her nobleman thinks having a child so soon after marriage is a mistake, in which case, I really have made a cake of this. Hypothetically, of course,” she added, her eyes suddenly opening wide with alarm.

  “Hypothetically?” Joshua repeated, his attention on the place where her hand held his.

  “Well, unless you agree that it’s good news she’s having a baby. If so, then it’s not so hypothetical.”

  “It’s not?”

  Charlotte shook her head, her eyes searching Joshua’s for some hint of his reaction. “We haven’t exactly talked about your heirs since before the wedding, but I take my duties as your duchess very seriously and …”

  “You’re expecting a child,” Joshua stated, his hand absently caressing her belly as he regarded her. Dumbfounded, his gaze drifted to his hand.

  Charlotte nodded. “In December.”

  Joshua’s eyes widened in awe. “You’re going to give me a child? For Christmas?”

  Relaxing into the pillow behind her head, Charlotte finally allowed herself to smile. “Hypothetically,” she teased, rather pleased Joshua seemed impressed by the news.

  The Duke of Chichester regarded his wife with a mischie­vous grin. “You wicked woman.”

  Her own smile widening, Charlotte nodded. “You wouldn’t have me any other way, Your Grace.”

  Joshua shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t,” he agreed. “Not a bit.”

  The Seduction of an Earl

  Linda Rae Sande

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

  The Seduction of an Earl

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2013 Linda Rae Sande

  V2.2

  Cover photograph © RomanceNovelCovers.com Back cover photographs © iStockphoto Cover art by KGee Designs. All rights reserved - used with permission.

  http://www.lindaraesande.com

  This ebook may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  ISBN: 978-0-9893973-1-5

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013912069

  To Jaylene – thanks for being such a great sister

  Chapter 1

  There Be Pirates

  March 1815, near Bampton, Oxfordshire

  Nathaniel Forster regarded his best friend, Andrew Barnaby, with a quirked eyebrow. The expression was famil­i
ar to anyone who knew Nathan’s father, Henry Forster. The man’s eyebrow made a similar arch whenever he was puzzled by something, such as a problem that needed solving. At the moment, Nathan was considering Andrew’s assertion that they needed something to use as booty if their foray into play­ing pirates was to be the least bit believable.

  “A treasure?” he asked his best friend. “You mean, like gold?”

  Andrew nodded enthusiastically, causing his crudely made eye patch to slide down his face. He quickly pushed it back over his right eye. “Aye. Or jewels. Or coins,” he added, this time holding the eye patch in place while he nodded.

  Nathan considered what he might find in Gisborn Hall that could be used for booty. “And what would we do with the treasure?” he wondered then, not being particularly familiar with pirate stories. His mother, Sarah Inglenook, didn’t have any pirate stories in the library at the dowager house where they had taken up residence earlier that year. Since he had never been in the library at Gisborn Hall, Nathan didn’t know if there were any pirate books on the shelves there, either. He would have to ask his father the next time the earl paid his mother and him a visit.

  “Bury it!” Andrew answered, as if everyone knew that’s what pirates did with their treasure. “To hide it from other pirates. And anyone else who might want the treasure.” This last was said as Andrew crossed his arms, challenging his friend to counter his claim.

  “Oh, I understand,” Nathan replied, nodding as he consid­ered where they could find gold or jewels or coins. He had a few sovereigns his father had given him on the occasions of his birthday. And he knew there were some jewels in a box in his father’s bedchamber. He had seen a ring his father was trying on one day, a gold ring in which a ruby was mounted. A signet ring, he remembered his mother explaining to him later that night when he asked her about the ring.

  “He’s an earl, now, Nathan,” she had said. “The ring is something passed down from one earl to the next. It will go to his heir when he dies.” And then she had suddenly looked away, her hand going to her mouth as if she had to stop her words, her usually happy demeanor replaced with sadness.

  Seeing his mother’s reaction whenever she spoke of his father, especially since Henry had become an earl, made Nathan realize he had to change the subject or risk seeing his mother sad again. For, despite the fact that Nathan was the earl’s son, he was not the heir to the Gisborn estate. And his mother, Sarah, was not the countess.

  “I have some money we could use,” Nathan offered finally, deciding they could use his coins as the treasure, “And I think I can find a ring.”

  Andrew’s eyes widened in delight. “That’s perfect! Now we just need a box we can use as a treasure chest, and we’ll put the money and ring in it and bury it!”

  Grinning broadly, the boys hurried off toward Gisborn Hall to gather their treasures and plan their next adventure.

  The two lived about a mile south of Bampton in Oxford­shire and had been standing in the middle of Henry Forster’s farmland as they plotted their pirate story.

  Actually, the farmlands belonged to the Gisborn earldom. At the age of nine-and-twenty, Henry had just inherited the title of Earl of Gisborn from his late uncle. Within a month, Sarah Inglenook and her son, Nathaniel Forster, were moved from their small cottage near Bampton to the dowager house on the Gisborn lands. Henry, who had lived with them in the cottage, moved into Gisborn Hall and took up his duties as earl. Given the Gisborn earldom was primarily made up of farmland just north of the River Isis, Henry’s duties revolved around maintaining the farm, planning crop rotations, solving irrigation problems and overseeing the tenants who farmed the lands.

  Since he had been farming for his uncle almost his entire life, Henry found he couldn’t leave the life of a farmer to take up the life of a member of the ton, a life for some gentlemen that included too much leisure, too much gambling, too much drinking and too many women. Henry opted to remain on his estate, working to modernize the farm and restore Gisborn Hall to its former glory.

  “What are you two up to today?” Parkerhouse wondered as he answered the knock at the front door of Gisborn Hall. The ancient butler stared down at Nathan and Andrew, sup­pressing a grin at the sight of the two dressed as pirates.

  “We’re going to bury our treasure!” Nathan announced, passing Parkerhouse on his way to the stairs leading to the sec­ond floor where his room was located. Although he didn’t live in Gisborn Hall, he occasionally spent the night at his father’s request. “I have to get a box.”

  Parkerhouse sighed and watched the boys disappear into Nathan’s bedchamber. Deciding they couldn’t get into too much trouble, he continued with his duties on the main floor. He was unaware of their entry into his master’s bedchamber, of them retrieving the gold signet ring from Henry Forster’s jewelry box, of Nathan emptying his coin collection into a pasteboard cheroot box. He was only aware of their retreat­ing steps when he spotted Nathan outside with the box under one arm and a shovel from the stables hoisted over Andrew’s shoulder. He watched with a small smile as the two boys made their way toward the farmlands to the south.

  The following day, after Nathan had finished his studies with a tutor, and Andrew had finished his chores, the two met at Gisborn Hall. There they planned their expedition to retrieve the buried treasure from the place in the field where they had buried it the day before. Decked out in pirate regalia, or in borrowed clothes that at least made them look somewhat like pirates, and each sporting black felt patches over their eyes, they stood at the edge of the field in which they’d buried the pasteboard box.

  They stood, and they stared.

  For at some point in the twenty-four hours since they had buried the treasure, the field had been plowed. Furrows run­ning parallel to one another had replaced the flat land that extended as far as the river. Tenant farmers were following the furrows and using seed drills to plant wheat. The rock the two boys had put into place to mark the location of the box was gone. And, despite their best efforts to locate the treasure, it was nearly dark when the two, disheartened and disappointed, made their way to their respective homes.

  It was two days before Nathan admitted to his mother that his birthday money was somewhere in his father’s wheat field. Stunned that her son would do such a thing, Sarah sent him to bed without supper, weeping as she did so. Although she had threatened to tell his father, Nathan begged her not to, claim­ing he would one day find the money.

  It was another month before Nathan found the courage to tell his father that the Gisborn signet ring was somewhere in the middle of his field. He only did so because his father’s valet had reported the ring missing when he was searching for a pair of cuff links, and when a maid was accused of the crime of thievery, Nathan knew he had to admit his involvement in the ring’s disappearance.

  Henry’s first reaction had to be kept hidden from the boy. Given the small size of its ruby, Henry was rather amused that his son would consider his signet ring suitable as part of a pirate’s treasure.

  Henry’s second reaction was far more severe, however. His son had taken something without asking, and because he had not admitted his involvement from the start, a maid had quit his household in shame. Upset at his son and saddened at the same time, Henry did what his own father had done to him under similar circumstances, back when his father had still been alive to discipline him. The whip, made from a willow branch, left its mark across the boy’s bottom and the back of his legs. Having never suffered such discipline, Nathan cried in fear and pain at the lashing. But it was Henry who wept later that night, wondering if he had done the right thing. He was sure he could find the missing treasure—he knew from the boy’s description its approximate location out in his wheat field.

  But by the time he learned of the missing ring, the field of wheat had grown too tall to allow a search to take place. When the harvest took down the wheat, there was still no sign of the pasteboard box and its treasure.

  Deciding it was a lost cause,
Henry decided he would sim­ply arrange for a jeweler to make another signet ring on his next trip to London.

  And Nathan’s coins had been his to lose.

  Chapter 2

  Lady Bostwick Calls on Lady Hannah

  March, 1816, Mayfair

  At precisely nine o’ clock in the morning, Elizabeth Bennett-Jones, Viscountess Bostwick, stepped as lightly as she could from the pristine black carriage bearing her hus­band’s family crest onto the semi-circular drive of Devonville House. Stepping lightly wasn’t something Elizabeth could do well these days. She was six months into her first pregnancy, and given the size of her expanding belly, her largest carriage gown just barely covered the evidence. At some point, prob­ably within a fortnight, she and her husband George would retire to their country estate in Sussex, and she would go into confinement. If her husband didn’t dote on her as he did, rub­bing her ankles every night after dinner, bestowing various gifts on her for no particular reason, and making love to her every night and sometimes in the morning, she might have been one of those women of the ton who complained about breeding. But George Bennett-Jones did all those things. And he did them well.

  “Good morning, Lady Bostwick,” the butler greeted her as he opened the double doors and let the young matron sweep into the vestibule. Except for Sundays, Elizabeth’s visits to Devonville House occurred every other day of the week. On the opposite days, Lady Hannah Slater, daughter of William Slater, Marquess of Devonville, paid a call upon Lady Bost­wick at Bostwick Place, just a few blocks down in Park Lane. “Lady Hannah is expecting you in the parlor,” the balding man said as he took Elizabeth’s pelisse from her shoulders. He led the way.

  “Of course she is, Hatfield,” Elizabeth replied with a roll of her eyes. “If she were not, I would have to hire a Bow Street Runner to locate her,” she deadpanned, for if Hannah Slater was not where she was supposed to be, Something was Wrong.