To Be Loved By The Earl: A Regency Novella

by Kasey Stockton

  He stood abruptly, startling Nieves.

  “I apologize, my lord,” the butler said. “I was only bringing in some refreshment.”

  “I have no appetite,” Adam grumbled.

  “Very good, sir. Only…”

  Adam waited for the stately butler to continue, but he did not. He sighed. “Yes, Nieves?”

  “The neighbor sent over this pie specifically for your lordship and since it is still warm, I assumed you’d appreciate a fresh piece.”

  He perked up. “A pie?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Very well,” he conceded. The butler placed a plate on the table beside him with a fresh slice of blackberry pie and a fork. Nieves took himself off and Adam pulled the plate onto his lap before digging in.

  The pie was heaven. A knock interrupted his enjoyment and he called entrance. Nieves approached him with a small note. “This was delivered with the pie, my lord. I forgot it on the tray.”

  Adam took the note and gestured that he did not need anything else. As soon as the door closed he shoved another bite into his mouth and tore open the seal.

  Lord Arnett-

  As it turns out, there were plenty of berries for multiple pies. Do not fret yourself, for I have made enough to serve not only my household and yours, but another neighbor as well.

  -C

  Adam smiled around his final bite. Then he choked slightly when he reread the note. Cori made the pie? That was as ludicrous as it was believable. His gaze lingered where she had signed the card. The simple “C” was elegant and effortless. And cunning, since she truly should not be caught sending a man clandestine notes to whom she was not engaged. He chuckled at her forthrightness, and then more so when he realized she was just being herself: a thoughtful neighbor.

  He was out the door and ordering his stallion saddled before he knew what came over him. His mother and Rosemary were on their way to trap him.

  Well, not if he had anything to say about it.

  * * *

  Cori rebraided her hair and twisted it into a bun at the nape of her neck. She knew the hairstyle was quite severe, but it was low enough that her riding hat would not have to be pushed to the side. She picked up the skirts of her habit and threw them over her arm before leaving her room, nearly running into Harvey on the landing.

  “My apologies, Miss Cori. I only wanted to inform you that you have a caller.”

  “Thank you, Harvey.” Cori wondered who it could be. She made it to the door of the morning room before recalling that she was dressed in her riding habit. She could go change, but it was most likely the Vicar’s wife, and Mrs. Neeson did not stand on ceremony with her.

  Entering the morning room, she immediately wished she had indeed changed.

  Lord Arnett turned from where he paced near the window. He bowed to her slightly; she curtsied back.

  An awkward beat of silence consumed the room before she moved to the stuffed chairs beside the unlit fireplace. “Would you care to be seated, my lord?” She had left the door open for propriety's sake and she noticed the earl looking at it for a moment as if he wanted to cross the room and close it—or run through it. Instead he took the chair opposite her. The very one his mother had inhabited nearly a month prior.

  “I should like to thank you for the pie, but more than that I need my curiosity satisfied.”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you truly make it yourself?”

  She felt the blush warm her cheeks. Had she written that? She tried to recall what she put in the inappropriate note but it was not coming to her. It had been a moment of whimsy to write it, but her pride had her wanting him to know exactly where the pie came from.

  “I can see that you did. My compliments to the cook. It was delicious.”

  “Well, Cook did oversee the entire process. I never did know before what went into making a pie and I shall never eat one again without immense gratitude.”

  His smile was small and comfortable, and she found herself getting quite lost in it. His next words, however, pulled her abruptly from her dreamland in one brash swoop.

  “Cori, will you marry me?”

  Stunned, Cori was unaware of the man sitting beside her, chafing her hand in two of his own. He had apparently dragged his chair beside hers, for he had been much farther away moments earlier. She stood, pulling her hand from his, hastily putting space between them.

  “You cannot be serious, sir, for you mean to offer for my sister.”

  “I mean to offer for the woman who I have offered for, and I believe it is you.” There was an unmistakable edge to his voice, but Cori shoved it away. Surely he was confused. This could not be a marriage proposal.

  “But you do not wish to marry me!” How could he not see that? What sort of game was he playing?

  There was a firm set to his jaw as he rose, his hands clasped securely behind his back. “Should I beg approval from your father first, ma’am? Then shall you believe me?”

  “Lord Arnett, I do not understand you.” She knew she spoke quietly, but he must have heard her. His face softened and he approached her slowly as if she was a wild animal.

  “Simply say yes,” he said, “and do not try to understand me. I myself have long given up on trying to comprehend the female mind.”

  She took in his earnest expression. Had the man of her dreams truly proposed marriage? Of course, he never once said he loved her, but that was of little consequence.

  Wasn’t it?

  Lord Arnett slowly took one of her hands in his own and squeezed her fingers softly. “It would make me the happiest of men if you would accept my suit.”

  She read his eyes for an ulterior motive, but came up short. He seemed so genuine, so honest, that she could not help but nod slowly. An answering grin spread across his face and her stomach did a bit of a tumble.

  “I shall call on your father tomorrow and sort out the details. Should three weeks be enough time?”

  “Three weeks?” she asked faintly.

  He squeezed her hand and released it before leaning down and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. Her body burned at the contact but he was halfway to the door before she registered his retreat. She hardly recalled herself saying farewell before he was gone. Moving to the windows, Cori watched him swing onto his horse and take off at a great speed and she found herself craving the same thing. She scoffed silently at herself before removing to the stables and Chance and the opportunity to sort out what had just happened while flying across the countryside.

  If her mind settled on one indisputable fact, it was this: Rosemary was not going to be pleased.

  Chapter 8

  The following month flew by in a mess of appointments, preparations, and avoidances. Her family had returned from London the day following the proposal and Lord Arnett arrived, as promised, to work out the marriage agreement with Mr. Featherbottom. Cori avoided announcing it to her family due to the very real possibility that she had dreamed up the scenario, but before she knew it, she was being whisked off to London to be fitted for a quick trousseau.

  Rosemary scarce said one word to her since the fated day and she did not blame her. Mama had seemed confused and unsure, as if Lord Arnett was jesting and would call it off at any minute, but Papa continually reminded everyone he had the marriage agreement to prove it. There was no illusion. Lord Arnett intended to wed Cori.

  Cori wondered what had taken place to inspire such confidence, but whatever it was, Papa was the only one who seemed confident in Lord Arnett’s choice.

  She saw Lord Arnett on two occasions following the proposal. Once when he came to dinner before she left for London; an awkward affair where Rosemary glared daggers at Lord Arnett the entire time, intermixed with moments of scowling at Cori. Then once more at a betrothal dinner thrown for them by his mother in their London townhouse. He had ridden in for the occasion and then left the following morning, citing estate business.

  After it all, Cori felt positive he was going to marry her, but less
sure about whether or not he regretted his impulsive decision. At least, she assumed it was impulse. The man had come out of the blue with his desire to wed her and she had given into his demand with little consideration. Not that she would change her mind.

  The wedding day dawned cloudy and gray. Cori was not one given to superstition, for they were in England after all and a cloudy day was quite normal, but she had hoped for a clear sky. The ceremony was a quick, small affair in Town. It was as she stood beside Lord Arnett that she realized what she had committed to: she was about to become a countess, a marchioness in the future. Swallowing past the lump of fear that formed, she pushed her way through the ceremony in a daze and the wedding breakfast shortly after.

  Lord Arnett had not quite ignored her at the wedding breakfast, but neither was he overly attentive. Cori found herself standing beside a window looking onto the grassy square in front of Berwind House nursing a glass of lemonade. Her mother stood in the center of a flock of women, proudly describing the opulence of the estate, Windfall, which was to become Cori’s home.

  She startled when a silky voice spoke just above her ear. “A bit dazed, Lady Arnett?”

  Turning to find Lord Travis beside her, she shot him a dry smile. “Yes, I am. How very strange to be called by that name.”

  He was surprised momentarily but recovered quickly. “I should be used to your candor by now, but I am afraid you quite catch me off guard at times.”

  “Probably about as startled as I was to being referred to as Lady Arnett.”

  “You should get used to it,” he said with a warm smile.

  “I think I should like having another brother, Lord Travis,” she said, returning his smile.

  “Come now, you are my sister. You may drop the ‘lord,’ don’t you think?”

  “Likewise, you know.”

  “But I should never call you ‘lord!’” Travis feigned shock.

  Cori laughed, handing him her empty glass. “You could be a gentleman and dispose of my cup.”

  “I can and I will,” he said, taking the cup and bowing away from her with a flourish. The man was positively delightful and she was glad he had been around the previous weeks to make her transition easier. If only the same could be said for her own family.

  Rosemary stood a few paces away, her face a picture of calm reserve. She caught Cori’s eye and the look of pure hatred displayed on her face was strong enough to send shivers down her spine.

  Cori left the reception and found her way to the retiring room, needing a moment to catch her breath. Why she feared her sister was a mystery, for she was Lady Arnett now and nothing Rosemary did would alter that fact. She paced the room, forcing herself to take deep breaths until her calm was restored sufficiently to return to the reception. It was in her honor, after all.

  “I would not envy her position,” a voice said from around the corner.

  “Nor I. How would you like to be married to a man who loves your own sister?”

  Cori pulled up short, jumping into an alcove and pulling the drapes around her. She knew eavesdropping was unwise, but at present she could not help herself. She did not recognize the voices, but she had yet to join high society, so that was not surprising. One voice was thin and reedy, no doubt an older woman, but the other sounded youthful and full of spite.

  “It is a done deal now, for in the eyes of the church Miss Featherbottom and his lordship are seen as brother and sister. Even if he divorced his new bride, he could never marry her sister.”

  “Whatever was he thinking in choosing the plain one? He could have had any bride he wished!”

  The voices trailed away, accompanied by stifled giggles and guffaws, leaving Cori in an empty alcove void of more than just noise. She sat softly on the window seat behind her and considered what she had just heard. Her husband—husband—in love with Rosemary? She could not dispute their history. Indeed, she should have inquired about it further, perhaps, before accepting him.

  But if he wanted to marry Rose then he would have asked her. He didn’t.

  A nagging feeling in the back of her mind reminded Cori that he never once pretended to love her. In fact, he had not even said he admired her. She was willing to marry him because of her long time infatuation and, to be honest, the shock of it all. In retrospect, she had quite lost her head. Her usually level, sensible head.

  Oh, dear.

  What had she done?

  * * *

  Adam downed another watery glass of lemonade and searched the room for his wife. His wife. A small smile tipped his lips at the thought. Not once since asking Cori had he regretted the impulse—for that is entirely what it was. He had left his house that morning with the idea of asking for her hand, and then seeing Cori elegant in her riding habit with the remnants of her pie on his taste buds utterly sold him.

  He had spent the last month getting his affairs in order and working with his father’s steward to right the wrongs which had accumulated while he gallivanted around Italy as his father remained laid up in bed. There was a lot of work yet, but he found that keeping himself busy made the time go by quickly, which he needed.

  He regretted not spending much time with Cori prior to the wedding, but he knew she would understand. She was kind in that way. He remembered visiting with his grandmother to impart his news; her glowing approval had warmed his chest. He spent quite a bit of time with her in Italy before convincing her to move back to England and into the dower house, and her approval meant the world to him. It also reminded him he had indeed chosen the right Featherbottom daughter.

  The main purposes of a wife, aside from producing an heir, would be to serve as a companion and help manage their social agenda and the estate. Clearly Cori would excel in that capacity.

  If only he could locate her. Another sweep of the room proved him correct. She was not there. He had followed her with his eyes while doing his duty to speak to each and every guest, and the last place he saw her was near the window with Travis.

  Come to think of it, he had not seen Travis in some time either. With furrowed brow, he begged pardon of the elderly gentleman he was speaking with and went into the hall. He saw two dainty feet swinging absently from a window seat and smiled. He should have known she would be drawn to the whimsical place.

  “Escaping already?” he asked in a low voice.

  She jumped at his approach and then quickly composed herself. She gave him a wan smile and he regretted immediately not being more diligent in remaining by her side during the wedding breakfast.

  “Mind if I take a seat?” he asked, indicating the space beside her on the window seat.

  She did not speak, but moved over to make room for him. Sitting beside her, he drew her hand into his own. She stared at their hands for a moment, her eyebrows pulling together in a semblance of a frown.

  “What is troubling you?” he asked softly.

  “Nothing,” she replied with enthusiasm. She adeptly withdrew her hand from his and smiled brightly. Too brightly. “This whole day has been lovely. Your mother has quite outdone herself.”

  “Mother is not one to do things by half.”

  “Yes, quite so.”

  Adam was determined to get to the bottom of Cori’s mood. “Are you feeling fatigued?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Then we should leave for Windfall at once.”

  “Oh, we are traveling tonight?” She looked disappointed.

  “We don’t have to,” he relented. “I suppose we could get a good night of rest and take off first thing in the morning.”

  She gave him a genuine smile that made his stomach flip. His gaze rested on her lips. It would not be vulgar to close the distance between them now that they were wed.

  Cori coughed, looking away from him and breaking the moment.

  He was disappointed, but it was probably for the better. It would never do to be seen kissing one’s wife at one’s own wedding breakfast.

  He offered his hand instead and she placed her shaky o
ne within it before allowing him to pull her to a stand.

  “On second thought,” she said quietly as he led her toward the reception room. “I wouldn’t mind leaving for the country right this moment.”

  Adam shot his bride a smile and squeezed her hand in his own. “Consider it done.”

  Chapter 9

  The newly married couple bid their farewells and left for their country estate as quickly as a carriage could be summoned. Cori found herself avoiding Rosemary’s blatant glare and wondering if Lord Arnett had ever kissed her. Well, of course he had. They were nearly engaged at one point, weren’t they?

  He had nearly kissed Cori when they sat in the window seat, hadn’t he? If she had not coughed, he probably would have.

  She found herself irritable and cross while the carriage bumped its way out of London; any attempt to pull her into conversation by her husband was for naught. They eventually lapsed into silence and spent the hours gazing out opposite windows. She fell asleep at one point and awoke with her forehead resting on Lord Arnett’s shoulder, but she quickly extracted herself with a muttered apology.

  By the time they arrived at Windfall, the couple was exhausted and went their separate ways gratefully. The housekeeper, Mrs. Banner, showed Cori to her room—pointing out the adjoining door to her husband’s bedchamber—and sent a maid to help her undress and ready for bed. By the time she was tucked under the covers, the sleepless nights leading up to her wedding day culminated and she was quite asleep before her head fully settled into the pillow.

  It was in the back of her mind that she must wait up for something but as quietly and unobtrusively as the thought came, it left her mind with equal stealth. Instead, she slept deep and long and dreamt of riding Chance through the fields, a pastime she had not had opportunity to truly partake in since becoming engaged a month prior.