by Joan Wolf
“Then do your best for Charlie as his big brother. Let him know you love him and will always be there for him.”
“The way you always did for me,” Simon said.
Liam smiled. “Yes, the way I did for you.”
“I want to see Tom’s grave too.”
“So do I, son. We’ll go tomorrow morning to your mother’s and then drive into Limerick city and pay our respects to your father.”
# # #
The following day was as lovely as the previous day had been miserable. The three men drove in their hired coach to the small church on the River Shannon where the housekeeper had told them Annabelle Jarvis Radley was buried. Richard Jarvis put his arm around Simon’s shoulder as they stood looking at the granite stone with her name and the dates of her birth and death chiseled into the stark stone. “She was such a beautiful, loving girl,” he said in a choking voice.
“I wish I had known her better,” Simon whispered.
Richard’s arm tightened. “She knew you, lad. She had you for five years, and I know you were the joy of her life.”
Simon felt tears sting his eyes; two drops slid onto his cheeks and rolled downward. He ignored them. “I hope so,” he said.
Lieutenant Tom Cookson was buried in the cemetery attached to St. John’s Castle, the English bastion on the River Shannon in Limerick city. His marker was small and had been hard to find.
As Simon stood looking at his father’s name and dates, he was swept by such a wave of sorrow it threatened to engulf him. These young parents of his …what a tragic end their love had come to... And he had been so lucky. It wasn’t fair.
Liam spoke next to his ear, “The two of them are looking down on you from heaven, my boy, and they’re very proud. Never doubt that.”
Simon turned to his father-in-law. “I hope that’s true.”
“It is, son. It is,” Liam said with certitude.
Suddenly all Simon wanted was to see Claire. The revelation of the last two days had torn him apart, and only she could heal the wounds. Only she could give him the peace of mind he so desperately needed.
“I want to go home,” he said, and even to his own ears he sounded like a child.
“We’ll leave tomorrow,” Liam said.
“That’s fine with me,” Jarvis agreed.
Simon closed his eyes, wishing an angel could fly him home to Claire now. He took a deep breath, gathered himself together, opened his eyes, attempted a smile, and said, “Good.”
EPILOGUE
Ten Years Later
It had been raining all week, but the day of Welbourne’s annual lawn party for tenants and friends dawned sunny and warm. “Thank heavens,” Claire said to Simon over the breakfast table. “We’ve always been fortunate with the weather. I don’t know where we would have put all those people if it continued to rain.”
“You could have postponed it,” Liam said, looking up from his plate of eggs and kippers.
“No, I’m afraid we couldn’t,” Elise said in her gentle voice. “All the food has been bought and it would go bad if we canceled.”
Simon said, “Well, the sun is shining and the grass should be dry by this afternoon, so there’s nothing to worry about.” He smiled at Claire. “You won’t have to have all those muddy feet tramping around your house.”
“Thank heaven,” she returned seriously. “The poor maids would have been scrubbing floors for a week!”
Liam patted his mouth with his napkin. “If you will excuse me, I promised to take the boys down to the stables to help braid the ponies’ manes and tails.”
In previous years the pony rides had proved to be a huge success with their younger guests. This year was the first time nine-year-old William and seven-year-old Richard were being allowed to lead their ponies around the paddock that had been set aside for the event. They were both very puffed up at being given such an important task.
Charlie said, “I suppose I’m in charge of the boats again?”
Simon looked at his younger brother, who had arrived at Welbourne only yesterday. “You’re the one who knows how to swim. Just keep in mind last year, when you let too many get in a boat and one of them fell out. You don’t want to have to dive into the lake to rescue someone again, Charlie.”
“Don’t worry Simon,” Charlie replied with a grin. “That was not an experience I want to repeat.”
“No more than four, Charlie,” Simon said.
“No more than four,” Charlie returned solemnly, as he made his way to the breakfast table to refill his plate.
Simon looked at his brother’s long, slim back and reflected once again how fortunate it was that Charlie had been allowed to grow up at Welbourne. His mother had married a marquis two years after her first husband’s death, and he had never been keen on sharing his wife with ‘another man’s brat.’ So Charlie had lived with Simon and Claire, taking lessons with a tutor until he was thirteen and had to go away to school.
He was starting Oxford in the autumn. Unlike his older brother, he was eager to attend university. Charlie had proved to be an outstanding student, and Richard Jarvis had promised him an excellent position in the bank when he graduated. Charlie had no aristocratic qualms about becoming a banker. “I can make a lot of money working for Uncle Richard, and I’ll get to use my brain as well,” he had told Simon and Claire when they discussed the offer with him. “That’s far better than lolling around London, gambling and going to dances. What a bore!”
When Simon thought of what might have happened if Charlie had turned out to be like his father, he shuddered. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Richard, Welbourne would have sunk under the weight of the earl’s debts. Simon always felt it was a small miracle that Charlie was so unlike either of his parents.
Simon pushed his chair back now and stood. “I’m going to walk around the grounds to make certain everything is in proper train for this afternoon.”
Claire stood as well. “I’ll go with you.”
“Good. Are you ready to go now or shall I wait for you?”
“I’m ready,” she replied, coming around the table to join him.
“The grass will still be wet,” he warned, looking at her shoes.
“Pooh,” she returned, and he grinned.
# # #
As the two of them stepped out into the sunshine, Claire looked up at her husband and smiled. His perfect profile was calm but she could feel the enthusiasm that was bubbling inside him. He loved this day. He loved seeing all the people who belonged to Welbourne happy, well fed, and enjoying themselves. He loved entertaining his friends. Charlie had told him once that he was becoming quite a paterfamilias. When Claire had asked what that meant, Charlie had grinned and said, “The father of a Roman family. Only in Simon’s case, the family includes every living creature on the estate.”
It was true, Claire thought, as she walked beside Simon in the brilliant sunshine. There wasn’t an adult, child, horse or dog that lived on Welbourne property that Simon didn’t know well. The farms were all in pristine condition, and the income Welbourne’s owner received from them was more than sufficient to sustain his own expenses. Simon went up to London occasionally, when there was a vote in Parliament that interested him, and Claire had been presented at court, but most of the time they lived at Welbourne. They weren’t rich, but they were very comfortable.
Claire’s shoes were getting wet from the grass, but she ignored them. Simon took her hand and said, “I’ve been thinking the weather isn’t the only thing we’ve been lucky with,” he said.
She leaned her head briefly against his shoulder. “I know. I’m so happy that sometimes it scares me.”
He stopped and turned to her. “You’ve had your sorrows too, Claire,” he said in his softest voice.
She knew what he meant. A year ago she had miscarried of a little girl, and she had worried everyone by her profound grief.
She looked up at the sky and said quietly, “I know. But I’ve given her up to God now, Simon. I know
she’s safe with Him.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, and, as his lips touched her palm, she looked up into his beloved face. He was older now, and that morning of the world beauty of his youth had matured. His hair was as fair, and his eyes the same crystalline blue, but the marks of confidence and authority were stamped on his features. Over the last ten years he had grown into his position as Earl of Welbourne, and now it was ingrained in him to the point where he never even thought about it.
She forgot about the people who might be watching, decided not to wait any longer, and stood on tiptoe to say into his ear, “We’re going to have a baby.”
She knew how much he loved being a father, so she wasn’t surprised when a huge smile blazed across his face. His arms closed around her and held her tightly. His mouth was pressed to the top of her head so his words were muffled when he spoke. “I’m so glad, Claire. I know how you grieved for the baby you lost. I’m so glad you’ll have another one to hold in your arms.”
“I am too,” she said. “But I won’t call her Charlotte. Charlotte was the name….” Suddenly she couldn’t go on and he held her even tighter.”
“Charlotte will understand, Claire. She has two babies of her own. She’ll understand.”
“I know she will.”
“Good God,” Simon said, and Claire felt his arms loosen. “We seem to have become the center of interest.”
Claire looked toward the tents and saw her servants hastily turning away and getting back to work.
They stepped apart and as they did a little boy ran up to them, followed by a younger one. The older one, who had inherited his father’s hair and eyes, said breathlessly, “Mama, Grandpapa wants to know what color yarn we should use to braid the ponies.”
“Red, I think, William,” Claire said.
The second boy, who had his mother’s coloring, arrived. “Hello Mama, Hello Papa,” he said with a beaming smile. “We’re going to braid the ponies. Grandpapa is going to show us how.”
“So I heard,” Claire said.
Simon said, “I want you boys to remember that the children who will be riding have probably never sat on a horse in their lives. You are to walk with them. Do Not Trot The Ponies. Is that clear?”
“But what if some of them do know how to ride?” Richard asked. “It will be boring for them to just walk around.”
“Then they can be bored.” Simon’s voice was final.
“Yes, Papa,” they chorused.
Claire smothered a smile as the boys ran off.
“We don’t need any broken bones today,” Simon muttered.
“They’ll be all right,” Claire said. “The boys won’t disobey you, Simon. Besides, Sid will be watching them.”
“Mmmm,” he said, not sounding entirely convinced.
“I should get back to the house,” Claire said. “Charlotte is coming over early in case I need some help.”
“If the weather holds we can ride tomorrow morning,” he said.
Claire smiled. They had been stuck in all week with the foul weather. “Let’s hope.”
He turned around with her. “Liam has a new horse for me to work with. He’s a stunning-looking black.”
“Will he jump?”
“I think so. Orion is getting too old to take out hunting and if this one’s as good as Liam thinks, perhaps I’ll keep him.”
“Tell me about him,” she said eagerly, and he began to talk as they walked toward the splendid stone front of Welbourne Abbey.
Author’s Note
It’s lovely to be back in the Regency, the period where I began my career. That was longer ago then I care to contemplate. I actually wrote my first twelve books in longhand, at the public library, while a neighbor babysat for my children. The Regency is such a fun period to write about, a time when nobles were nobles and commoners were commoners and never the twain shall meet. Of course, I don’t necessarily hold to that rule in all of my books.
During the course of my career, I must confess I did frequently stray from the Reign of the Regent. I spent time in Dark Ages England, Ice Age Europe, Middle Ages England, Contemporary America, Revolutionary America, the Highlands of Scotland, the Persian Empire, the Biblical World of Jericho, and the World of Mary Magdalene. Now I have come home to the Regency, and I am glad.
The American Earl was my first regency in quite a while, and I loved working on it so much that I started a new book as soon as it was finished. This new book is The Reluctant Earl, which I assume you have just finished reading. If you liked it, do go to my website (joanwolf.com) and take a look at my backlist. It’s pretty extensive and I’m sure you’ll find something there to your liking. You can also sign up to receive my newsletter. And you can always go to my facebook page.
Best wishes to all my readers,
Joan
Acknowledgement
I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to Susie Felber, the daughter of my dear friend, Edith Felber, who wrote regencies under the name of Edith Layton. I miss Edith terribly, but having Susie has been a great blessing. She makes me feel that Edith isn’t that far away - she is very like her mom. And when I was completely baffled about how to get hooked up with social media, Susie came to my rescue.
The reason I have a lovely website; the reason I have an attractive newsletter; the reason I have any means at all of contacting my readers – the reason is Susie. She set everything up for me, told me how to use it, got out my monthly newsletter, and answered all my idiotic questions. She has her mother’s generous and compassionate heart and I want to thank her for everything she has done for me.
About the Author
Joan Wolf is a USA TODAY bestselling author, whose acclaimed Regency romances have earned her national recognition as a master of the genre. Her many historical and contemporary romances have been highly praised by reviewers and authors alike. Publisher's Weekly reviewed one of her novels as "historical fiction at its finest." Joan was born in New York City but has lived most of her life in Connecticut with her husband, two children and numerous pets. An avid rider and horse owner, she enjoys featuring horses in her novels.
“Joan Wolf never fails to deliver the best.”
- Nora Roberts
“Joan Wolf is absolutely wonderful. I’ve loved her work for years.”
- Iris Johansen
“As a writer, she’s an absolute treasure.”
- Linda Howard
“Strong, compelling fiction.”
- Amanda Quick
“Joan Wolf writes with an absolute emotional mastery that goes straight to the heart.”
- Mary Jo Putney.
THE RELUCTANT EARL
Copyright 2016 by Joan Wolf
Table of Contents
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
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EPILOGUE
Author’s Note
Acknowledgement
About the Author
THE RELUCTANT EARL
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