Suddenly a St. Clair (The St. Clairs Book 5)
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Suddenly a St. Clair
The St. Clairs
Book 5
Alexa Aston
© Copyright 2019 by Alexa Aston
Text by Alexa Aston
Cover by Wicked Smart Designs
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 7968
La Verne CA 91750
ceo@dragonbladepublishing.com
Produced in the United States of America
First Edition November 2019
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notes:
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Alexa Aston
King’s Cousins Series
The Pawn
The Heir
The Bastard
Knights of Honor Series
Word of Honor
Marked by Honor
Code of Honor
Journey to Honor
Heart of Honor
Bold in Honor
Love and Honor
Gift of Honor
Path to Honor
Return to Honor
The St. Clairs Series
Devoted to the Duke
Midnight with the Marquess
Embracing the Earl
Defending the Duke
Suddenly a St. Clair
*** Please visit Dragonblade’s website for a full list of books and authors. Sign up for Dragonblade’s blog for sneak peeks, interviews, and more: ***
www.dragonbladepublishing.com
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Alexa Aston
Prologue
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
Epilogue
About the Author
Prologue
London—February 1816
“I need a new whipper! Now!”
Hudson Wright answered the foreman’s call, returning from the wagon where he’d just dumped a heavy sack filled to the brim with coal. He quickly tossed the empty sack at a boy who was no older than five and hurried down the dock.
“I can be your coal whipper,” he told the burly man in charge as three men carried an injured whipper from the docks. The man groaned loudly as he passed Hudson.
He didn’t know how the worker had been injured. Only that it created a vacancy that he wanted. Hudson worked as a coal backer, a porter who carried loads of coal on his back to waiting wagons, dumping his load and returning for a new one, over and over, for fourteen hours a day. At eighteen, he was young and strong—but his dreams went far beyond the backbreaking work of transporting coal from the dock to a delivery wagon. As a whipper, he would unload pieces of coal from the arriving ships, placing them in a basket attached to a simple form of crane. It would save his back from the burdensome loads carried long distances since the wagons were parked a good distance from the docks.
Being a crane operator would have been better but, at this point, he’d do anything to save his back, which remained aching and sore since it never got proper rest. After he left the docks, he went to his second job as a waterman, working at a cab stand to water horses. He arrived home shortly before midnight each night, falling into bed for a few hours sleep before he repeated the same day, over and over.
Only on Sundays did he have time to himself after he worked at the cab stand for eight hours since the coal wagons didn’t run on Sundays. Every precious moment left in the day was devoted to studying for the upcoming university exams. His hopes of winning a scholarship and changing his life was the only thing helping him to hang on to his sanity. If he failed to score high enough marks to gain the scholarship, he’d be lost. He didn’t want to disappoint himself—but he especially didn’t want to disappoint Laurel. Not after all the sacrifices she’d made.
“Wright? Is that you?”
Hudson couldn’t blame the foreman for not recognizing him. As usual, he was covered in coal dust, which obscured his face. He thought the day would never come when he would get the scent of the dust out of his nose and have clean fingernails, the sign of a gentleman. He pushed aside that thought. Survival was key now. Laurel had pressed their last apple on him this morning. They’d spent every farthing they had to bury Mama and now his sister couldn’t find work, thanks to being blackballed by Julius Farmon, who wanted to make Laurel his mistress.
“It’s me,” he assured the man in charge. “I’ll be your new whipper.”
Whippers made two sixpence more a week. He and Laurel needed that sixpence.
“Go on then,” the foreman barked.
Hudson hurried to the nearest crane and shouted up to the operator, “I’m your new man.”
Immediately, he got to work, scooping up coal with a shovel and dumping it into the basket. The operator would then lift the basket and swing it a good distance, lowering it and releasing a lever that opened the basket’s bottom. From there, the coal backers would stuff it into their sacks.
He enjoyed the slight break he received each time the basket was put into motion.
He might have to bend to use his shovel to load the coal but now he stood upright and breathed deeply. Backers never had a moment’s respite.
A rhythm developed between him and the crane operator. At one point, the passing supervisor grunted, “Good work,” which was the first compliment Hudson had received since he’d been working the docks.
He’d labored a good six hours in this capacity when the foreman tapped his shoulder. Hudson scooped the last bit onto his shovel and dumped the coal into the basket, giving the operator a signal that it was full.
“Yes, sir?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t being pushed out in favor of someone else.
“You’re to go with that man.” The foreman pointed to a bespectacled gentleman. A true gentleman, one dressed in a beautiful greatcoat of black. Beneath it, Hudson could see a fine coat of blue and dark trousers.
“What for?” Hudson asked suspiciously.
“Because I said so,” growled the foreman.
He set down the shovel and another man quickly picked it up. Disappointment filled him. He’d already been replaced and hadn’t a clue why. He doubted he’d receive the extra pay he’d earned during the time he’d labored in a new capacity. His stomach growled noisily, reminding him that he hadn’t a clue when he would eat again. Guilt filled him, knowing Laurel had already gone hungry a day or two, giving what little they had to him because of the physical work he did.
Warily, he approached the stranger and said, “I was sent to speak to you.”
“You’re Hudson Wright?” the man asked.
“Yes.”
“Very good, Mr. Wright. If you’ll come with me.” The man turned and walked a few steps.
“Wait!” Hudson called. “Who are you? Where are we going?”
The man smiled wryly. “You’ll know soon enough. Come along, Mr. Wright.”
As he followed the tall, thin man, Hudson couldn’t remember ever being addressed so respectfully. At school and work, he was always called Wright. Mama and Laurel were the only ones to call him Hudson. To be Mr. Wright was almost beyond his comprehension.
The man stopped in front of a grand carriage, gleaming black as midnight. Four horses, all white, stood attached to it. A footman opened the vehicle’s door and the man climbed in.
He sat and then leaned to the door’s opening. “We haven’t all day, Mr. Wright.”
Bewildered, Hudson climbed in and stood, hunched over. “I can’t sit in here. I’m filthy.”
Reaching into the corner, the man picked up a blanket. He spread it across the plush velvet seat and returned to the opposite bench.
Reluctantly, Hudson sat. The door closed. The carriage took off.
He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
The man, who looked to be in his early to mid-thirties, said, “I am Matthew Proctor. That’s really all I’m at liberty to say for the moment, Mr. Wright. Be patient. I know it must be difficult but everything will be explained once we arrive.” He smiled kindly.
Hudson couldn’t remember the last time anyone had smiled at him.
A terrible thought struck Hudson. “Laurel? Is she—”
“Miss Wright is fine,” Proctor assured him. “You will see her shortly. Please, Mr. Wright. You need to trust me. Be patient. All will be fine.”
At least his twin was all right. But who could have summoned them both? And why? He wanted to grab Proctor and shake him until the information spilled from his lips but something in his demeanor made Hudson leery of doing so. He remained silent the rest of the ride, gazing out across London at the various neighborhoods, many which he had never seen. They finally arrived in an area where immaculate white townhouses sat on both sides of the street. The carriage slowed and came to a stop.
“We’re here,” Proctor announced.
Hudson only wished he knew where here was.
The footman opened the door again. Hudson couldn’t imagine being employed where all you did was ride on the back of a carriage and open and close a door, all while wearing livery that looked better than anything Hudson had ever worn. Wherever they were going—and whose carriage he’d been brought in—was someone of immense wealth.
Fear closed about his heart again as he thought of Julius Farmon and the threats he’d made against Hudson and Laurel. This couldn’t be Farmon’s residence, though. Although the man owned numerous saloons and brothels, he couldn’t imagine him living in a palace as grand as the residence before them.
He exited the vehicle and Matthew Proctor followed closely behind him. The carriage then pulled away. Proctor led him into the house.
Into a different world.
The large entryway had gleaming marble floors and art hanging on the walls. Scattered pieces of furniture made of rich wood were finer than anything he’d ever seen. The townhouse spoke of wealth and elegance, two things foreign to his experience.
A servant appeared, his dignified air causing Hudson to shrink.
“I am Barton, Mr. Wright. If you’ll follow me.”
His eyes cut to Proctor. “Go ahead. You’re expected.” With that, the man turned and walked down a hallway, disappearing from sight.
They ascended a wide staircase to the first floor and walked down a long corridor. Hudson’s gut tightened. He had no idea why he’d been summoned to this palatial place. He’d already been gone from work too long and worried that it had cost him his job. His physical appearance put him at a disadvantage, his clothes filthy and worn. The fear morphed into anger by the time they arrived at a door. Anger was a feeling he knew how to deal with. He stoked it so he didn’t appear as a scared, lost child. The butler opened the door to a room that seemed to go as far as the eye could see. Seated at the far end was a large group of people.
Including Laurel.
Pushing the servant aside, Hudson charged into the room. “What in the bloody hell is going on?” he demanded.
His twin sprang to her feet and hurried the length of the room. Hudson didn’t look at her. Instead, his focus was on the three people who had followed her. Two men and a young woman, all favoring one another so closely that he knew they were related. A numbness descended upon him. His jaw dropped in astonishment. They all had hair black as midnight and dark brows. But what stood out were their eyes. The trio had the same emerald eyes that he and Laurel possessed. Neither twin had ever seen anyone with eyes similar to theirs.
“They look like us, Laurel. They all have our eyes. It’s . . . like looking in a mirror.”
The oldest of the three took a few steps forward. He thrust out a hand.
“That’s because we’re all St. Clairs, Hudson.” With a broad smile, he added, “Welcome to the family.”
He stiffened. “I already have a family. Laurel is my family. I don’t know what kind of trick you’re playing, but we’re not falling for it.” He glanced to his sister. “Come, Laurel. We’re leaving.”
“We are not leaving, Hudson,” she said firmly.
He knew that tone. Once Laurel dug in her heels, no one could change her mind. She was the brightest person he knew—and also the most stubborn.
“I know this is overwhelming, Hudson.” She looked at the man who’d offered his hand, which Hudson had refused to shake. “May we speak in private, Jeremy?”
“Of course, Laurel.” He nodded to the man and woman by his side and the three moved away to the far end of the room, where the rest of the group studied Hudson and Laurel with interest.
“I need to tell you—”
“Not here,” he spit out. “Move into the corridor.” He glanced at the other side of the room. “I don’t want any of them listening to what we say.”
She sighed. “Very well.”
They stepped into the hallway. Thankfully, it was deserted of servants.
“Who are these people, Laurel? Why are we here?”
“They are our brothers and sister, Hudson. They—and we—are St. Clairs.”
“What?” A long string of curses erupted from him. He shook his head. “I don’
t understand.”
“Then quit talking and listen,” she said, giving him that no-nonsense look of hers. “I can explain it if you’ll stop behaving like an idiot.”
He shoved his temper deep inside, locking it away. “I love you, Laurel. I trust you. Tell me,” he urged.
A part of Hudson wanted to know. The other half was afraid of what she would reveal.
“You know Mama never talked about our father. She finally did. Just before she died.”
He saw her eyes mist with tears. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because there wasn’t much to tell,” Laurel admitted. “She told me I looked like him. That she’d read in the newspaper he’d died.” She paused, her mouth trembling. “She said he hurt her, Hudson. Raped her.”
“No wonder she never wanted to talk about him.” Anguish filled him.
“I found a note from him that she had hidden under the mattress.” She swallowed. “Our father was the Duke of Everton.”
Shock filled him. “We’re by-blows of a bloody duke?”
Laurel nodded. “I came to this house today to blackmail the current duke. Our half-brother.”
“You what?” he shouted.
She winced. “Hudson, you know what our situation is. We haven’t two farthings to rub together between us. Farmon is determined to make me his mistress and send you halfway around the world, branded a criminal.” She took his hand. “A duke has scads of money. I only wanted a little. Enough to help us escape from London and go where Farmon couldn’t find us. You could sit for the university exam and become a student. I could find a job elsewhere and keep house for us, the threat of Farmon gone.”
“How did this duke take to being squeezed for money?”
Laurel’s face changed, wonder filling it. “That’s the remarkable thing. I was going to threaten to expose us as bastards to Polite Society, thinking a high and mighty ton family wouldn’t want this kind of scandal to be made known.” She shook her head. “I never had the chance to blackmail him. Jeremy knew instantly who I was. So did Luke. And Rachel. Instead of shunning me, they embraced me, Hudson. They immediately offered for me to come live here.”