The Earl of Ice

by Helen A. Grant

  “Is Lady Granger joining us for dinner, my lord?” Even to her own ears her voice sounded weak and childishly high pitched.

  “Yes. I am expecting her. She is late as is often her wont these days.” He glanced at her sideways, his lips firming. “Please do not think that this entitles you to be tardy with timekeeping. It is my opinion that being on time for appointments, whether formal or informal shows respect and illustrates good manners.” Edward frowned. God, he sounded like a bloody martinet. Where was his mother? He had no idea what to say to this young waif of a ward who looked like a strong wind would blow her away.

  Marianne bristled. She realized Viscount Granger was obviously displeased to have been kept waiting but that was no reason to subtly chastise her. “At the Academy we were severely admonished if we were late for lessons or other engagements,” she replied coolly, “so I always try very hard to be punctual.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” was the equally cool response. “Then we will get along famously, will we not?” Edward cast her another glance. Marianne’s blue eyes flashed as she nodded at him.

  Good Lord. She had some spirit, after all, Edward thought with some surprise.

  They then sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity to Marianne who was used to the lively chatter of other girls during mealtimes at the Academy. Eventually the door opened and her Aunt entered the room apparently oblivious to the harsh expression on her son’s face. She looked older than Marianne remembered but that was to be expected. She still cut a majestic figure in a black crepe, high neckline, mourning dress with a heavy jet pendant necklace resting on her bosom. Like her son she was tall, perhaps about five foot, eight inches, but her once plump figure was now even larger making her an extremely substantial lady. Her grey, powdered hair peeked out from under an old-fashioned ornate black lace cap.

  A footman pulled out a chair for Aunt Mary to be seated to Edward’s right.

  “Ah! You must be Marianne. My! You have grown so since I last saw you. We are pleased to welcome you to our home, are we not Edward?” Her broad smile that encompassed both her son and his ward, caused her eyes to almost disappear behind the top of her rosy cheeks.

  Edward grunted a reply and Marianne, glancing across at his stony expression was not sure he shared his mother’s opinion. To make matters worse, her aunt was glaring at him. Marianne thought it best to try and smooth the way.

  “I am happy to be here, Lady Granger,” she interjected hurriedly. “My room is delightful and I have a lovely view over the gardens. Thank you.” Marianne was unsure if she had made the right response, but her Aunt seemed mollified.

  “You must call me Aunt Mary, my dear, and, although Edward is your guardian, I think you may call him Cousin Edward in private. Far less formal I think than Lord and Lady Granger now we are living together as family.”

  “In that case, and with your permission, I will call you Cousin Marianne,” Edward responded, and for the first time she saw a slight smile of amusement lighten his features.

  Marianne reddened under his gaze. “Please just call me Marianne.”

  Edward noticed her unease and couldn’t help but tease her a little. “Oh, no, Coz. Mama would not think that proper. Cousin Marianne it shall be.”

  Once again Marianne found herself blushing deeply and lowered her face to try and hide this. Her heart had made a little flip when Edward had smiled at her; he really was the most handsome man she had ever seen and, although he must be in his late twenties and many years older than her, he was a lot younger than she had expected a guardian to be.

  She was lost in her thoughts when a discreet cough alerted her that the servant was about to serve her soup.

  The four-course meal progressed in virtual silence. When Marianne looked up she observed her aunt and guardian concentrating on their food. The meal was delicious and much richer than the plain fare served at the Academy but she found that she could eat little because she was so nervous.

  “Are you unwell, Marianne?” Aunt Mary inquired at the end of the meal. “You have hardly touched your food.”

  “I am in good health; I think I am just tired from the journey,” Marianne hastened to reply. “The food was delicious and I do usually have a good appetite.” She did not want to seem ungrateful.

  “Good, good, we do want you to be happy and feel at home here; don’t we Edward?”

  “Of course we do, Mother, but a child as small as Marianne cannot possibly be expected to eat a great amount of food.” Edward smiled benignly at Marianne. “Do not chide her about it.”

  Marianne was mortified, not only did her cousin think of her as a child—and she was going to be sixteen next month—he obviously also thought she was skinny! She was very upset by this. It didn’t matter that he was coming to her defence. It was humiliating to be thought of as a skinny child when she was approaching womanhood. It was only later when going over this in her mind that she realized that he had in fact been defending her from his mother’s comments. She then decided that rather than be upset with him she should feel grateful. After the meal Edward left the ladies and Aunt Mary took Marianne through to the drawing room for coffee.

  “I had thought you were sixteen?” Aunt Mary queried, frowning a little. “You look very young.”

  “I am sixteen next month, Aunt. I know I am a little small for my age but I am quite strong and healthy.”

  “Well, then. It was I who suggested to Edward that you came here when your time at the school finished. I am hoping you will keep me company and help me with the running of the household. I am not too well these days and find it a burden doing all the tasks myself.”

  “I will be happy to help you, Aunt,” Marianne hastened to agree. So Edward had not wanted her here at Granger Hall. Once again Marianne was made aware of just how untenable her situation was. Did her parents leave enough money for her upkeep? Were there no other closer relatives than her guardian and his mother? With somewhat of a shock, Marianne realized she knew little or nothing about her parents’ families. There were so many things she wanted to know. Perhaps she could start with a few, not-so-probing questions. “Cousin Mary, can I ask – were you close to my parents?”

  “I met your father when the Viscount was courting me and brought me here to meet his parents, she replied. “Your father, George, grew up here. George and my late husband, Bernard, were very close friends when they were young. They were more like brothers than cousins.”

  “Did they fall out?” Marianne asked. After all she had never even heard of the Viscount before her parents’ death.

  The older lady hesitated. “Not really. When your father insisted on marrying Elizabeth, your mother, it was against his father’s and grandfather’s wishes and he was asked to leave Granger Hall and not return. My husband, however, did secretly keep in touch with him and even helped him get the living in the parish of Oakham. When you were born we hoped that he would be welcomed back into the family but that was not the case. Your father approached your grandfather again when he knew he was going abroad to do missionary work and asked if you could come to live here, but again this was refused. That is why you were enrolled at the Academy. We thought of bringing you here when your grandfather died but you seemed settled and happy at the Academy so we let things rest. Perhaps it was wrong of us.”

  So all the time she had had a grandfather she knew nothing about! “I was very happy at the Academy and I remember that you did visit me and sent me birthday presents.” Marianne did not want her Aunt to feel guilty.

  Aunt Mary smiled and patted her hand. “When Edward got notice from the Academy that you were of an age to leave I immediately suggested you come to live with us here.”

  “That is very kind of you, Aunt Mary, and of Cousin Edward. I hope that I can be useful to you.”

  “I am sure you will, my dear. Off you go to your room now. You must be feeling tired.”

  Marianne was grateful to escape to her room. Her Aunt had given her a lot to think about. Her parents
had never spoken of their past and to find that they had married against the wishes of their family meant they must have loved each other very much. To Marianne this was the most romantic thing she had ever heard.

  * * *

  Edward sat in the library enjoying a glass of port with a Cuban cigar and wondered what effect this newcomer to the household would have on his life. He hoped that she would keep his mother company as he had found her to be quite demanding of his time since his father’s death. Although he tried to be patient with his mother, he had little time for the numerous ailments from which she fancied herself to be suffering. He had enough to think about with the real issues of the estate and its finances without his mother’s imaginary health problems making demands on him. Frustratingly, he could not make head nor tail of the accounts his father had kept, and the steward, although keeping the running of the estate ticking over, did not have the answers to his many questions. If that was not enough, he now had the additional financial responsibilities of a young female who would no doubt be demanding finery and fripperies and some sort of dowry if she was to wed. And there was nothing among the accounts to indicate that her father had made any settlement for her guardianship. Though his obligations legally ended when she was twenty-three or married, she was no beauty, and he probably would end up supporting her indefinitely. Unless he could find the money to dower her well and marry her off. But for now…she was just a child. Maybe he was being unfair to the chit. After all, if she kept his mother occupied and lifted her spirits, she would be worth her weight in gold.

  His friends had been making jest with him since he had told them that he had inherited the guardianship of a sixteen year-old girl. They—and he—had imagined Marianne would be as some of his friends’ younger sisters—fully rounded, flirtatious young ladies who liked nothing better than to tease him and demonstrate their many accomplishments. Instead he found Marianne looked no more than a skinny twelve-year old. Her clothes were school-girlish and she appeared to have not yet developed many social graces. His friends who had been looking forward to meeting her would be sorely disappointed. And the poor thing with her boyish figure and unsophisticated ways would be like a lamb to the slaughter if left alone with some of his more boisterous companions. He had to take care to protect her from any embarrassment.

  Edward suddenly smiled as he remembered how prickly she got with him when he all but accused her of harbouring thoughts of tardiness. She had certainly set him straight! And he had to admit that she had fine blue eyes. He was being too harsh on the poor girl. It was not her fault that she was less forward than other girls her age or that her body was late to develop. She was well mannered and not unpleasant to look at. Her dress was dowdy and old fashioned and he made a mental note to speak to his mother about purchasing her some suitable clothes.

  In Pursuit of Miriam

  “...A sweet romance saturated with Regency charm,”

  —Lucy Monroe, USA Today best-selling

  and award-winning author.

  Dragged by her aunt for a season in Bath, the Honourable Miss Miriam Knightly promises to make herself agreeable to any unmarried man she meets. All in the hope that one of them will overlook her lameness and offer marriage.

  Vincent, the Earl of Chantry, needs a wife in order to inherit the funds he needs to prolong his merry London lifestyle. What better candidate for a marriage of convenience than an unfortunate lady with little prospects of gaining a husband? Miss Knightly. He happily foresees planting her at his country estate while he returns to London.

  However, Miriam, a lady of independent character and means, secretly refuses to fall at the feet of the gentlemen who do propose—including the handsome Earl of Chantry. His proposal couched in cold business terms, distresses her. For already, his very touch makes her pulse race. Can she accept his proposal and live in hope that one day he will come to care for her?

  978-1-934675-57-1 (eBook)

  978-1-934675-61-8 (paperback)

  Look for In Pursuit of Miriam at MyRomanceStory.com, Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble.com and wherever e-books are sold.

  Paperback version is available from CreateSpace.com and Amazon.com.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Helen A. Grant lives in the county of South Yorkshire, England. Having been introduced to Jane Austen novels while in high school she developed a life-long passion for history and historical novels.

  With two grown children who have now left home and a lots of storyline ideas Helen has now found the time to pursue her dream of writing historical novels. Helen is now retired from her work as a community nurse with people with learning disabilities.

  Visit her website at https://sites.google.com/site/helenannettegrant/home.

  Follow her on Facebook and twitter@helen_a_grant.

  Readers can contact Helen via e-mail at helenannettegrant@gmail.com.