Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
About the Author
Discover more Amara titles… How to Train Your Baron
A Rake’s Redemption
How to Fall for the Wrong Man
Six Weeks with a Lord
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Kimberly Nee. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
2614 South Timberline Road
Suite 105, PMB 159
Fort Collins, CO 80525
[email protected]
Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Alethea Spiridon
Cover design by Fiona Jayde
Cover photography by
Period Images
Khrizmo/iStock
Andrey Danilovich/iStock
ISBN 978-1-64063-597-5
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition July 2018
This is for anyone who ever felt they didn’t fit in, only to find out they were perfect exactly the way they were.
Chapter One
Dunning Court, Berkshire, England
Late Spring, 1713
The single flickering candle was little more a stump of wax than an actual candle. Still, it was the trouper of the bunch. The other candles in the holder had long ago cried quarter and gone out.
Bennett Markham, the sixth Earl of Dunning, stared at that dancing flame, admired the way it fought to survive against the odds. In some ways, he was that flame. And like that flame, he, too, would eventually fade into darkness
A cheerful thought.
Time was so fleeting, a human lifetime little more than a blink of the eye in the greater scheme. He was running out of time with each passing moment.
Out of time.
“My lord?”
Bennett twisted in his chair to see his butler, Matthews, standing in the doorway to the dining room. He was ramrod straight, hands clasped behind his back, eyes almost black in the dying light. “What is it, Matthews?”
“The first of the wedding guests have arrived.”
“Are there as many as I think?”
“Oh yes, my lord. But they are the only ones who will be staying here. The rest will be put up in the village.”
“I hope they aren’t too disappointed, seeing as how they all thought this was to be my wedding to Claudia. How does one explain he’s been jilted for another, and yet is still willing to host the bloody thing? People are going to wonder about my sanity, you know.” His gaze went back to the flame. “But at least Claudia and Galen will have guests. They won’t know any of them, but it’s still got to be better than to be married in an empty chapel.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Bennett pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Very well, make certain they’re all settled in and have anything they need. If we don’t have it, get it.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And Matthews?”
“Yes, my lord?” Matthews paused in the doorway.
“Please fetch Miss Sebastiano for me. I’d like a word with her.”
“Miss Sebastiano?”
“Yes. Don’t look at me that way, I know what I’m doing.”
“Of course, my lord. But wouldn’t you be better off speaking with Miss Santa Cruz?”
Bennett offered up a long look. This wasn’t the first time Matthews attempted to get him and Claudia together, thinking if he did, she would realize what a mistake she’d be making if she married Captain Sebastiano. “No, Matthews. And I know what you’re up to, so you can stop. She is going to marry Galen Sebastiano and there is bloody little I can do about it if I was so inclined. And I’m not. I’m happy for her. Besides, she’s a bit preoccupied, this being her wedding and all.” Bennett didn’t trouble to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Although he was truly happy for his cousin, he couldn’t help but be a little bitter over the fact that instead of him standing before the vicar, taking vows alongside her, it would be Galen Sebastiano speaking those words.
“Of course, my lord.”
Bennett’s chair creaked as he leaned back and reached up to rub his forehead. Nothing was going the way he’d hoped. First, Claudia had changed her mind about accepting his proposal, which he could understand. She loved Galen. Any fool could see that. It wasn’t as if she’d broken Bennett’s heart, either. He wasn’t in love with her any more than she was with him.
However, Claudia marrying another man threw a wrench into the works for him. Fortunately, he was resourceful and had come up with another approach, one that should work well, considering there would be a houseful of ladies in attendance. The only remaining hurdle was to get help in whittling down which lady.
His list would be short—four, maybe five, names in all. Six if he considered Miss Sebastiano. At first, he most certainly did consider her. Trouble was, she seemed to be the romantic sort. She certainly was happy enough for her brother and Claudia. She believed in love and most likely loved easily. So, if he considered her, he ran that risk—of her loving him—and that just wouldn’t do. Not one bit.
“That’ll be all, Matthews. Thank you.” He reached for his half-empty wine goblet and drained it completely. He was just refilling it when the door opened and Elena Sebastiano fairly glided in.
“You sent for me, my lord?”
He smiled, gesturing to the empty chair beside him. “Please, I do wish you’d stop calling me ‘my lord.’ It’s perfectly all right for you to address me as Dunning, or even Bennett, if you wish. Sometimes never having a name is tiring.”
“Tell me something, why are you called Dunning when your name is Markham?”
He smiled as she settled in the chair to which he gestured. Unlike most of the English women he knew, she wasn’t pale and refined, but far more exotic, with her olive skin and thick black hair. Although she dressed in the current English fashion, she couldn’t possibly be comfortable in the stays and tapes, the skirts and flounces, when she was most likely used to the less restrictive fabrics and fashions of her West Indies home.
Her eyes were the most captivating he’d ever seen—they were amber, but amber that glinted from gold to golden brown depending on the light. When she smiled, which was often, her teeth flashed white against her sun-kissed skin. A lively spirit, one who seemed to bring a bit of much-needed light to the dark corridors of Dunning Court.
; “I have no idea why, it’s just how it’s done.”
“So your name is actually Bennett Markham, but no one ever calls you that? They call you Dunning or Lord Dunning?” She plunked her elbow on the table, propping her chin on her fist. “But not Lord Bennett? And never Lord Markham.”
“Exactly.” He smiled as he reclined in his chair. “You’ve got it, I think.”
“I don’t know how. It makes no sense to me.”
“Nor to me.” He gestured to the tray in the center of the table. On it sat a cluster of crystal goblets and several decanters. “Care for a drink?”
“I would love one. But don’t tell either of my brothers. They’d have kittens.”
“I won’t breathe a word.” He plucked the stopper from a decanter and reached for a goblet to fill. “How is Claudia holding up? I’ve heard brides tend to grow nervous as their wedding day approaches.”
“She hasn’t gone completely to pieces. Not yet, anyhow.” Elena’s smile held more than a hint of mischief in it as she accepted the goblet he set before her. “And you should certainly know why brides are so jumpy. It’s what comes after the wedding, from what I hear.”
He’d poured himself wine as well, and had been mid-swallow when she let that little tidbit fly, and promptly choked. Setting down his glass, he thumped his fist against his chest to clear his windpipe, then croaked, “Please warn me the next time you’re going to say something like that.”
“Have I offended you, my lord?” Her eyes widened innocently. “If so, I beg your pardon.”
“No.” He coughed again, clearing the last of the wine from his throat. “It’s fine. I’m not so easily offended.”
“But you are easily shocked,” she replied pertly.
When it came to his visitors from the West Indies, he certainly seemed to be. They were a loud bunch, raucous and wild—at least they were to him, accustomed as he was to the heavy silences that usually flowed through Dunning Court. It had been a long time since his home had been opened to so many people, and he was certain he’d never hosted a gathering of people who seemed the very embodiment of a good time.
“Only some of the time.” He refilled his glass. “It’s been a nice change, having people here. Usually it’s only me and the staff.”
Slowly, Elena traced the stem of her goblet with her fingertip. “Why? I thought it odd when you first wrote to Claudia about coming here to marry you. I thought you’d have to be hideously ugly or deformed or something to not be married by now and having to resort to asking your cousin. But then, when we arrived, I was shocked that you—well…you’re a good-looking man. I mean—”
He laughed as color flooded her cheeks, color visible even in the dying candlelight. “I’ve never met anyone as blunt as you, Miss Sebastiano. You have been like a cold breeze on a hot summer’s day.”
“I mangled that something awful, didn’t I? Papi is always telling me I have to think before I speak.”
“Worry not about it. I don’t mind at all.” He sipped his wine. “There is something I wished to ask.”
“Go right ahead.”
“With this wedding, and so many people in residence, I was wondering if you might help me with something.”
“Help you? With what?”
“Finding me a wife.”
Chapter Two
Elena almost choked on her mouthful of wine when Bennett Markham oh-so-offhandedly asked her to play matchmaker for him. However, she still croaked, “I—I beg your pardon?”
Unperturbed, the earl clasped his hands, letting them come to rest on the table. “I thought it would be easier than this. Which it would have been if Claudia had not chosen love over practicality.”
He said it without accusation or anger, but she still felt the need to defend her brother and her friend. “There is nothing impractical about love, my lord. One can’t help whom they fall in love with.”
“There is little that is practical about love, but that is neither here nor there. I’m not blaming her, Miss Sebastiano.” Dunning’s eyes met hers directly. They were intriguing eyes, a beautiful shade of blue that was a striking contrast to eyelashes every bit as thick and black as his hair. How it was that this man was still in search of a wife baffled her. True, he did have that—as she’d come to think of it—sickly English pallor about him, but even so, he was handsome and wealthy and an earl, although she’d readily admit she didn’t know the difference between an earl and a duke or even a king. Still, he had a title, which must make him important. So why wasn’t he married yet?
“It sounded like you were.”
“On the contrary.” She almost smiled at his formal speech and the stiff, rather pompous lilt of his accent. A far cry from what her ears were accustomed to hearing. “I think it’s wonderful they found one another, but I also have to admit it’s left me in a bit of a bind.”
Her back stiffened. Was he going to ask her to marry him?
She certainly hoped not.
“I need an heir. I first need a wife. I also have no desire to marry a shrew, or a fortune-hunter. I should at least like my wife, even if I have no intention of making a love match.”
“Oh, my lord, you really should learn to say what you mean and not sweeten everything so.”
“I beg your pardon?” Dunning stared at her for a long moment, until she realized he thought she was being serious.
“It seems strange to me, marrying not for love. I can’t imagine it.”
“Well, it’s fortunate, then, that you don’t have to worry about it. But for people such as myself, it’s hardly a strange thing. I know very few couples who’ve married for love and even fewer who’ve done so successfully.”
“So this is more like a business arrangement?” She lifted the cool crystal goblet to slowly swirl the red wine. “And how can I help? I know nothing of your customs. I can’t even keep your names straight.”
“I know. But you’re personable, and Claudia made mention that you have a particular talent when it comes to matchmaking. A woman’s perspective is exactly what I need because I can see ladies opening up to you. I need you to weed out the chaff from the wheat.”
She blinked at him. “The what from the what?”
A smile hovered at the corners of his lips. “Choose a lady who is decent, but not in love with either me or my money.”
“And you think that will be difficult?”
“It might be. There are many who are enamored of either one or the other.”
She caught herself before she snorted at his pomposity. No wonder Claudia had chosen Galen over this peacock. Since their arrival in early April, and over the course of the last six weeks, she’d had the opportunity to spend time with the Earl of Dunning, to listen in on his conversations with her brothers, with Claudia and Galen, and his staff and each time, he just always sounded so…stiff. As if he tried to hide behind formality. At least, she thought he was hiding behind it. Perhaps he really was that stiff.
She’d made mention of it to Claudia. However, being that she was his cousin, Claudia was biased in his favor, and since there had been so much distance between them, it was easy to imagine him as a lonely man, sweet and shy, and unaware of just what he had to offer, who therefore shielded himself with formality.
It was too bad that didn’t seem to be the case.
“And you think I can help? You don’t really know me that well.”
“I know the maids like you. I know Claudia speaks highly of you. And I know your family adores you, considering what your brothers have said of you. I think you could be a great help to me.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Especially since your brother is the reason why I’m no longer getting married.”
“And what a gentleman that makes you.” Sarcasm foamed about the edges of her words.
“I need your help, Miss Sebastiano. If I die without an heir, then the Dunning line dies with me. I’m the last one. And as I’m responsible for a lot of people, I’d rather not have my title die and my estates pass into the hands o
f strangers.”
“Is that what will happen? You have no other relatives?” She’d never thought about what happened to something such as an estate or a title once the bearer passed, and it seemed to her everything should simply go to his nearest living kin. But from the sounds of it, things were a bit more complicated than that and she had no idea how it would work here in England. “And what about Gabby—that is, Mrs. Santa Cruz? Isn’t she a relative? Or Chris? He’s a Markham, isn’t he?”
“Not a legitimate one. My heir cannot be from the wrong side of the blanket. Much as I like her, Cousin Gabby is the by-blow of the third earl and his mistress and so her children couldn’t inherit any more than she could.”
Elena’s face grew warm at his words. “You make it sound so terribly wrong.”
“It matters not to me how she came into being, but the fact is she cannot inherit and none of her children can, either.” Dunning slowly twirled the wine goblet by its fragile-looking stem. “So, you see my problem.”
“I see problems with the way a lot of things are done here,” she told him bluntly, reaching for a napkin to dab at her lips. “It doesn’t seem right to me, that Gabby—that is, Mrs. Santa Cruz—should be punished for a circumstance beyond her control.”
“She’s been away from England a long time, Miss Sebastiano, and seems very happy to me. I highly doubt she will care very much.”
“I don’t know…becoming a countess might be a nice change of pace. It would raise eyebrows on St. Phillippe and from the stories I’ve heard, she never minded doing that.”
“Raising eyebrows?”
“Well, she was the captain of her own ship and a successful one at that. And then there are the stories about how she and Captain Santa Cruz were marooned together before they were married. All alone for weeks, on an island.”
The heat in her cheeks deepened as Dunning raised one brow in her direction. The stories of the Santa Cruz family, often entwined with those of her own family, were the stuff of legend on St. Phillippe, and were brought out to regale guests at numerous balls and parties. “Don’t look at me like that. The tales are as romantic as they are scandalous. My own mother was quite a fierce swordswoman in her day, and my father once told us she held a sword tip to his throat in contemplation of killing him.”
The Earl's Perfect Match (Sebastiano series) Page 1
