A Midnight Clear (The Lost Lords Book 7)

by Chasity Bowlin

  A Midnight Clear

  The Lost Lords

  A Novella

  Chasity Bowlin

  Copyright © 2019 by Chasity Bowlin

  Kindle Edition

  Published by Dragonblade Publishing, an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Books from Dragonblade Publishing

  Dangerous Lords Series by Maggi Andersen

  The Baron’s Betrothal

  Seducing the Earl

  The Viscount’s Widowed Lady

  Governess to the Duke’s Heir

  Eleanor Fitzherbert’s Christmas Miracle (A Novella)

  Once a Wallflower Series by Maggi Andersen

  Presenting Miss Letitia

  Also from Maggi Andersen

  The Marquess Meets His Match

  The St. Clairs Series by Alexa Aston

  Devoted to the Duke

  Midnight with the Marquess

  Embracing the Earl

  Knights of Honor Series by Alexa Aston

  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

  Season of Honor (A Novella)

  The King’s Cousins Series by Alexa Aston

  The Pawn

  The Heir

  The Bastard

  Beastly Lords Series by Sydney Jane Baily

  Lord Despair

  Lord Anguish

  Lord Vile

  Lord Corsair

  Dukes of Destiny Series by Whitney Blake

  Duke of Havoc

  Duke of Sorrow

  Legends of Love Series by Avril Borthiry

  The Wishing Well

  Isolated Hearts

  Sentinel

  A Sprig of White Heather (A Novella)

  The Lost Lords Series by Chasity Bowlin

  The Lost Lord of Castle Black

  The Vanishing of Lord Vale

  The Missing Marquess of Althorn

  The Resurrection of Lady Ramsleigh

  The Mystery of Miss Mason

  The Awakening of Lord Ambrose

  A Midnight Clear (A Novella)

  By Elizabeth Ellen Carter

  Captive of the Corsairs, Heart of the Corsairs Series

  Revenge of the Corsairs, Heart of the Corsairs Series

  Shadow of the Corsairs, Heart of the Corsairs Series

  Dark Heart

  Live and Let Spy, King’s Rogues Series

  Father’s Day (A Novella), King’s Rogues Series

  Knight Everlasting Series by Cassidy Cayman

  Endearing

  Enchanted

  Evermore

  Midnight Meetings Series by Gina Conkle

  Meet a Rogue at Midnight, book 4

  Second Chance Series by Jessica Jefferson

  Second Chance Marquess

  Imperial Season Series by Mary Lancaster

  Vienna Waltz

  Vienna Woods

  Vienna Dawn

  Blackhaven Brides Series by Mary Lancaster

  The Wicked Baron

  The Wicked Lady

  The Wicked Rebel

  The Wicked Husband

  The Wicked Marquis

  The Wicked Governess

  The Wicked Spy

  The Wicked Gypsy

  The Wicked Wife

  Wicked Christmas (A Novella)

  Unmarriageable Series by Mary Lancaster

  The Deserted Heart

  The Sinister Heart

  The Vulgar Heart

  The Sinclair Jewels Series by Caroline Lee

  The Sinclair Hound

  The Mackenzie Regent

  The Sutherland Devil

  The MacLeod Pirate

  Highland Loves Series by Melissa Limoges

  My Reckless Love

  My Steadfast Love

  My Passionate Love

  Clash of the Tartans Series by Anna Markland

  Kilty Secrets

  Kilted at the Altar

  Kilty Pleasures

  The Viking’s Gift (A Novella) by Anna Markland

  Queen of Thieves Series by Andy Peloquin

  Child of the Night Guild

  Thief of the Night Guild

  Queen of the Night Guild

  The Book of Love Series by Meara Platt

  The Look of Love

  The Touch of Love

  The Taste of Love

  Dark Gardens Series by Meara Platt

  Garden of Shadows

  Garden of Light

  Garden of Dragons

  Garden of Destiny

  The Farthingale Series by Meara Platt

  If You Wished For Me (A Novella)

  Rulers of the Sky Series by Paula Quinn

  Scorched

  Ember

  White Hot

  Hearts of the Highlands Series by Paula Quinn

  Heart of Ashes

  Heart of Shadows

  Heart of Stone

  Highlands Forever Series by Violetta Rand

  Unbreakable

  Undeniable

  Unyielding

  Viking’s Fury Series by Violetta Rand

  Love’s Fury

  Desire’s Fury

  Passion’s Fury

  Also from Violetta Rand

  Viking Hearts

  The Sins and Scoundrels Series by Scarlett Scott

  Duke of Depravity

  Prince of Persuasion

  Marquess of Mayhem

  The Unconventional Ladies Series by Ellie St. Clair

  Lady of Mystery

  Lady of Fortune

  Lady of Providence

  Lady of Charade

  The Sons of Scotland Series by Victoria Vane

  Virtue

  Valor

  Men of Blood Series by Rosamund Winchester

  The Blood & the Bloom

  The Fire & the Sword

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Books from Dragonblade Publishing

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The carriage lurched roughly, the wheels sliding on the muddy road. Lady Sarah Middlethorp, Dowager Viscountess of Vale, gripped the edge of the seat as she struggled to avoid being dislodged from it entirely.

  The storm had come up unexpectedly, beginning with heavy rain which quickly gave way to ice and now snow. There were miles still to go before she would reach Midford Abbey, the Middlethorp family seat. It would be the first Christmas since her son had been returned to her. Happily married now to her former companion, Elizabeth, they were expecting their first child in just shy of a month. It was that which had necessitated her leaving Bath and traveling to them for the holidays. She would not miss spending such a special day with her son, even if it meant descending upon them during Elizabeth’s confinement.

  Thinking of all the lonely holidays she’d spent, wondering if Benedict was alive, if he was well and warm and cared for, Sarah shuddered. From that fateful night so many years ago when
he’d been torn from her arms and absconded with by the villains her own husband had brought into their lives with his perfidy and greed, her life had been focused on one thing only. Getting him back, no matter the cost. And finally she had. She would not miss another Christmas with him.

  Even as she thought it, the carriage slowed, the horses’ hooves slipping on the mud and ice. “Why are we stopping? We’re in the middle of nowhere!” she called to the driver.

  “I’m sorry, my lady! There’s a tree fallen across the road. We’ll have to go back and take the other road.”

  It would take all night, assuming they could even go that direction as it was a more narrow and less well-traveled road. “How far are we from Midford, Travers?”

  “We’re still two miles out, my lady!”

  She could walk two miles. Even in the worst of conditions, she should be able to manage that. After all, had she not dressed for travel in a warm, woolen gown and sturdy boots? And if she cut cross country and got off the road, the distance would surely be even less.

  “Help me down, Travers. You’ll turn and go back to the inn in the village. I can walk the remainder of the way.”

  She heard him gasp even from inside the coach. When the door opened, he stood there gaping at her as if she’d lost her mind. “My lady! No. It’s much too dangerous.”

  “It will be fine, Travers. There is a small cart path that cuts through the woods past the dower house and it will reduce the distance by half at least. I have my cloak and my boots,” she insisted. Whether she was trying to convince him or herself remained to be seen. Regardless, she needed to reach Midford and Benedict. It wasn’t just that she wanted to be near her son, for she did, terribly. It was also that she was terribly lonely. There had been no need to replace her companion after Elizabeth had married Benedict because her days of investigating every mystic in all of England had come to an end. She’d found precisely what she wished to, after all.

  “It’s too dangerous, my lady,” the man insisted. “It’s more ice than rain at this point and if you fall, there will be no one to help you.”

  “I am going, Travers. I will make it to Midford even if I have to crawl. Nothing will stop me from spending Christmas with my son,” she said fiercely, even as she dug a few coins from her bag. Extending them toward him, she pressed them into his palm. “Nothing. Now, help me down, then get back to the inn, obtain lodgings for yourself and see to the horses.”

  “I can’t do that, my lady!”

  “Travers, I am still your employer. There is no room for negotiations in this matter,” she snapped. “Now, for the last time, help me down!”

  The man was clearly displeased but, short of restraining her inside the carriage, he had no other option. When he took her hand and helped her from the vehicle, she planted her feet on the road and realized just how truthfully he’d spoken. Everything was coated in a thin sheen of ice. The world glinted with it, as if everything had been draped in diamonds or crystals. A moment of apprehension seized her, but she quickly tamped it down. Her fear did not alter the situation, after all. She still needed to reach Midford. She would reach Midford, she determined.

  Clutching her cloak more firmly about her, she gave Travers a nod that reflected far more confidence than she actually felt, and headed the few yards down the road to the turn off for the small dirt-packed path that the tenant farmers used when taking their crops and livestock to market. It had been ages since she’d been there, but it had always been one of her favorite country walks. Of course, those walks had been taken in much milder conditions.

  Making her way gingerly along the road, holding onto tree branches and the low stone walls that banked it whenever possible, Sarah held fast to her determination and the need to reach her family.

  *

  Branson Middlethorp cursed the abominable weather as he made his way back to the small dower house on the grounds of Midford Abbey. The rain that had fallen was freezing on contact to everything it touched and what continued to fall was quickly giving way to snow. He had exiled himself there so that the servants would not feel divided in their allegiance between himself and his nephew who had only recently taken up the title and the running of the estate. The truth was, he would happily depart Midford Abbey and leave Benedict to it, but the boy was not ready. Man. Benedict was not a boy, but a man fully grown, with a wife at his side and a solid head on his shoulders. Thinking of him as a boy was less a reflection on Benedict than it was a reflection of Branson’s own encroaching dotage. Still, he had not been raised to tend an estate. While his business acumen was sound, he needed guidance on things such as land usage, when to plant, when to leave fallow. Those were not things to be learned overnight, but Branson was no longer certain he was the man to teach him. A restlessness had overtaken him of late. No longer fettered by responsibilities to the Middlethorp estates and a viscountcy that had never been intended for him, the prospect of freedom loomed ahead of him.

  The wind howled again and shifted abruptly. The rain had given up altogether and heavy, white flakes were falling from the sky, turning the entire world white. It had turned into a blizzard, coming in sideways and penetrating even the heavy layer of his cloak. He’d take the shortcut, he decided, using the dirt lane that the farmers used. As he neared it, he saw the carriage and cursed again.

  “What the devil are you doing out here?” he shouted.

  “Mr. Middlethorp, sir? Is that you?”

  Even through the wind and rain he recognized that voice. Travers. The Dowager Viscountess’ driver. “Is she in there?” Branson snapped. He could wring her blasted neck for putting herself in danger. She should have arrived already and been safely settled at Midford Abbey.

  “No, sir. She struck out on foot almost a quarter-hour ago, taking the shortcut to the house. I’ve been trying to get the carriage turned so I could get back to the inn in the village but the horses keep sliding.”

  “There’s a farm just a hundred yards behind you. It belongs to a Mr. Pace. Tell him you’re the dowager’s coachman and that you’ve been stuck by bad weather. They’ll give you lodgings for the night. Leave the carriage. Unhitch the horses and walk them in. They’ll be less likely to injure themselves that way. In the morning, he’s to hitch them to his sleigh and come to the dower house. I’m going after Lady Vale. And Travers, it’ll be on your head if she’s managed to do injury to herself!” Branson snapped and then made for the lane. The ice was growing heavier on the branches. As fierce as the wind was, those branches would soon begin to snap. He had to get to her and he had to do it quickly.

  Turning down the lane, urging his horse as fast as it could safely travel on the slippery path, Branson alternately prayed and cursed her hardheadedness. Ever since his brother had passed away, looking after Sarah had been his first priority. But she had never made it easy. During the course of Benedict’s long absence and the uncertainty of his fate, she’d put herself in the path of every charlatan and criminal imaginable, despite his best efforts to curb her recklessness. Contrary to what she believed, it had never been the money or even a need to control her as she had often asserted. He would gladly have sacrificed every bit of the Middlethorp fortune, his own personal funds, and the coffers of the entailed Vale estates if it might have offered her peace. She had despised him for his interference, thinking him as controlling and hateful as his brother had been. That could not have been further from the truth. All he’d wanted then, all he wanted still, was her happiness and for her to be safe.

  Branson had not gone far when he spotted her. She was not quite a quarter of a mile from where the lane began. She was still a good three-quarters of a mile from where the lane ended on the grounds of Midford Abbey. But she’d never make it that far. Even if she did, they’d never make it up the steep incline that awaited her in order to reach the main house.

  “Sarah!” he called out.

  She glanced over her shoulder, but did not halt. Instead, she picked up her pace as if she didn’t know it was him at a
ll. Or perhaps she did, he thought, and her wish to avoid him was greater than her own sense of self-preservation. No sooner had the thought occurred to him than he heard her scream as she slipped in the mud and ice. His heart stopped as he saw how utterly still she was. Heedless of his own safety, Branson raced forward, terror clawing at him.

  Chapter Two

  Sarah’s temper had flared at the mere sound of his voice. Even now, with her son home where he belonged and Branson no longer the trustee over the estate—and her—he dogged her footsteps. But her anger had come on the heels of another feeling. Relief. Despite all her resistance to his managing and highhanded ways, the instant she’d heard him call her name, she’d had but one thought. Branson would know what to do. He always did. There had never been a time in her life, not since her husband’s death, when Branson had not been there to see to things, to manage things, to prevent her from falling in with those who would have exploited her grief for their own gains.

  It had been those complicated and warring feelings that had spurred her on, making her careless in her haste. Lying there in the mud, rain splashing all around her—she was dazed, winded, and uncertain of how injured she might be. Her ankle throbbed and her shoulder ached where it had struck a stone that had fallen from the fence.

  By the time she’d managed to shake off enough of her disorientation and wounded pride from having literally fallen on her backside, he had nearly reached her.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded as he drew nearer. Her tone was sullen and sharp. Despite knowing that, she did not feel it was in her power to correct it. He sparked her temper like no other man ever had.

  “I saw the carriage on the road and set out to find you,” he said, dismounting. “Are you hurt?”

  “Not seriously,” she answered churlishly. Other than having him witness more of her indignity. She felt foolish enough in his presence without being covered head to toe in mud and muck.

  “It’s too dangerous to walk much further and the horse cannot possibly maintain his balance with both of us on his back.”

  “We cannot just stay here!” she snapped.

  “In point of fact, Sarah, we can. The gate to the dower house is only a few yards ahead. It’s where I’ve been staying since Benedict and Elizabeth took up residence at Midford,” he replied. “Come along.”