An Unwilling Earl

by Sharon Cullen

  “I can’t marry someone who is unwilling.”

  Armbruster paused, and a grin spread across his face. “So you asked her?”

  “No! Good God, please stop this. You’re acting like a gossiping hen.”

  “The answer is just so obvious to everyone but you. She needs someone to save her. You need someone in your life before you rot away all alone in that townhouse of yours. And now that you’re an earl you need an heir and protection against the dragon mothers who will sink their claws into you.”

  “I’m not alone.” That was the argument he grabbed onto? I’m not alone? Out of everything Armbruster said there was more truth in that than anything else. He didn’t realize until Charlotte came into his life how alone he really was. He had Armbruster. He had his barrister friends, and that was it. How pathetic he was.

  Armbruster and the barristers were good companions at times, but those times were sporadic and unreliable.

  They weren’t with him in the evenings when he was finished with work and rattled around his townhouse.

  “Mrs. Smith doesn’t count,” Armbruster said.

  Jacob ignored that remark. “Charlotte is determined to go to America.”

  “Maybe because she thinks she doesn’t have any other options.”

  “I’m not marrying her, so please stop pestering me.”

  But the thought was there, always, at the back of his mind. He tried to think of Cora in those moments, but the memories of her were dimming. He’d noticed a few years ago that he couldn’t recall the sound of her voice or the exact color of her hair or the perfect pitch of her laugh.

  He hated that her memory was no longer sharp and fresh but dulled and warm with the patina of time.

  …

  “His Lordship is in meetings all day,” Mrs. Smith told Charlotte when she came down for breakfast. It was the same thing Mrs. Smith had told her every other morning, and Charlotte wondered what it was that Jacob did all day.

  She knew he was a solicitor, but she wasn’t certain what, exactly, that meant.

  As usual, she took breakfast alone, eating a piece of buttered toast and drinking a cup of tea. Mrs. Smith tsk-tsked as she did every morning. Mrs. Smith thought Charlotte should eat more, fatten herself up.

  Today she would visit Cotton and make firm plans to get to America. She wished she had the clothes that she had come here in. Wearing a gown like this would make her conspicuous. Dressed as a woman of better means meant that she would be a target for all of the thieves and pickpockets, but there wasn’t much she could do about it now.

  “There is someone here to see you,” Mrs. Smith said, appearing in the dining room, her eyes round and the dust cloth fluttering in her hand.

  “Me?” Who was here to see her? Unless it was… Was her aunt here? Had she discovered that Charlotte was living with Jacob? “Who is it?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Said his name was Chadley.”

  “Chadley? I don’t know a…”

  And then it occurred to her who Chadley was. Her uncle.

  “The Marquess of Chadley?”

  Mrs. Smith sniffed. “He didn’t say nothing about being a marquess.”

  Charlotte took a deep breath to tell Mrs. Smith she didn’t want to see Lord Chadley. Send him away.

  Her entire life she’d avoided even thinking of her mother’s family, and now her uncle was in the next room. He’d come to see her.

  There was a small part of her that wanted to see him. In her mind the Marquess of Chadley had been an ogre—an ugly man with green skin and horns. Of course, with age she’d realized that he was just a man—ugly on the inside but probably not on the outside.

  “Where is he?” she asked. After all, one didn’t just send a marquess away. She was in Jacob’s home. She couldn’t be rude on his behalf—even though this was his fault and she certainly was not happy about the situation.

  “In his lordship’s front room.”

  Of course. Jacob desperately needed a formal sitting room. It just didn’t do to put a marquess in a home office.

  Nervously, she smoothed down her gown, a white, fluffy creation with sprigged flowers with still too many ribbons, even though most had been removed. Absently she tugged on the short ends of her hair then tucked them behind her ear.

  She was far more nervous to meet her uncle than she should be. After all, it was his family that had abandoned her mother. Nevertheless, her legs were trembling as she made her way down the hall and opened the door to Jacob’s office.

  He was standing at the window, twisting his hat in his hand. He turned when she entered, and she was startled to find that he was young. Far younger than she had expected him to be. He had blond hair nearly the same color as hers, swept straight back off his forehead, and darker blond expressive brows. His nose was thin, but his smile wide yet guarded.

  She looked for similarities, but other than the stories her papa had told her, she had no memories of her mother.

  “Miss Morris.” He seemed hesitant, unsure, and she was pleased to see she had the upper hand in this meeting. It gave her a small boost in confidence.

  She curtsied. “Lord Chadley.”

  He took a step toward her, halted, and stood there, awkwardly clutching his hat.

  “You look like her,” he said softly.

  Charlotte swallowed, not expecting him to say that. Unexpected tears clogged her throat. She looked like her mother.

  I look like my mother.

  He looked down at the hat in his hand and turned the brim. “It’s uncanny.”

  And her aunt had called her mother a whore. That had always made Charlotte so angry.

  “Why are you here?” she asked. Why now? was what she really wanted to say. Why not when we needed you the most? Why not when I needed you the most?

  “Lord Ashland called on me the other day.”

  “I asked him not to.”

  Chadley winced. “I can understand why.”

  “Can you?”

  “I can understand that you might be angry for the way my family treated your mother.”

  “You abandoned her.”

  “Some would say that she abandoned us.”

  “Who would say that?”

  “My father. Your grandfather.”

  Charlotte had so many things she wanted to say, but none of them were nice, and she was aware that most of what happened had been out of this man’s control, just as it had been out of her control.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “To see you. To apologize for the way we treated your mother.”

  “She died when I was born,” she said brokenly, unnecessarily. She felt it needed to be voiced.

  “I know.”

  “She died knowing her family had turned their back on her. And still you didn’t reach out to my father. You didn’t even come to the funeral.”

  “We were forbidden.”

  “Forgive me, my lord, but why would I ever want to associate myself with your family after what they did to mine?”

  “You have every right to your anger. My father… He was old, set in his ways. In his day, a daughter didn’t disrespect her father. Harriet was supposed to marry another man. Not only did she turn her back on that agreement, but she married beneath her. In his mind, it was unforgivable.”

  “I didn’t know…” She swallowed. Talking about her mother was much more difficult than she had thought it would be. “I didn’t know she had been promised to another man.” Her father had never told her that part.

  Chadley motioned to the two chairs facing Jacob’s desk. “May we sit?”

  She hesitated, not wanting to prolong this visit. Not wanting to get to know this man, but he was telling her things about her mother. Things she didn’t know and she desperately wanted to hear more.

  She rang for tea.

  “My father was devastated by my mother’s death,” she said. “Even fifteen years later his grief was still sharp. I believe he died of a broken heart.”


  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “It was five years ago. There was no word from her family even then.”

  “I know.”

  “I believe your father had passed away by then as well.”

  “He had.”

  She waited for his explanation, braced herself for his excuses, but none were forthcoming.

  “I would ask my father about my mother,” she said. “But there was so much he didn’t know about her younger years.”

  “What would you like to know? I can try to answer any questions you have about Harriet.”

  “I don’t know where to start.” And she was afraid to ask. For twenty years her mother had been an ethereal being, an angel looking down on her from heaven. She’d not really been real to Charlotte, and now she was about to learn what had made her mother a person.

  “She was six years old when I was born,” he said. “We had another sister, but she died of influenza when she was just three years old, right before I was born. Her name was Charlotte, too.”

  “I was named after your sister?” Charlotte’s heart was beating hard, and she was filled with much trepidation and anticipation. She didn’t want to like this man.

  “I like to believe so.”

  “Did you know about me?”

  He hesitated. “Yes. My father kept up on Harriet’s life.”

  “But he didn’t visit her. He didn’t invite her back home.”

  “No.”

  “He hated her that much?”

  “I don’t think hate had anything to do with it. I think it was more about pride. He didn’t want to admit he’d been wrong.”

  “He cut her off from her family, a family that she’d loved. That is unacceptable.”

  “I agree.”

  “Did you know my papa died?”

  “Not until Lord Ashland told me.”

  Would he have reached out if he had known? Would he have tried to save her from her aunt if he had known? Would her life have been completely different?

  “What was she like?” she finally asked through a thick throat.

  “Precocious. Strong-willed. She drove our parents mad because she never followed the rules and she lost many a governess because of it. But she was also kindhearted. Nothing was ever done in a mean-spirited way. Harriet was curious. She liked to ask questions, whether they were appropriate or not. She liked to experiment and test theories, and she never understood why we had so many rules.”

  “When she met my father she didn’t understand why the relationship was frowned upon?”

  “Oh, she knew. By then she knew the rules and understood them, but she didn’t care. She claimed they were in love and that love was more important than anything else.”

  “Even when she knew she would lose her family?”

  “Even then. She was sad about it. I remember lots of tears, lots of yelling, lots of slamming doors. Like you, Harriet didn’t understand our father’s stern disapproval and unbending convictions. She desperately wanted him to change his mind, but he refused. I think he regretted it in the end.”

  “But it was far too late.”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you for filling in the pieces of the puzzle.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” He paused and seemed to consider something. “I would like to get to know you better, Charlotte. I regret what my father did, and I would like to make amends. Lord Ashland said that you ran away from your guardian because she was cruel. I’m so sorry to hear that, and I open my doors to you. You are more than welcome to come live with us. Lady Chadley wanted me to extend the invitation, but please know that it comes from my heart as well.”

  “I appreciate that, and I’m aware that my current living arrangements are…out of the ordinary. Jacob has been more than kind and has been nothing but a gentleman.” She dismissed the memory of their kisses for fear they would show in her expression, and that was none of her uncle’s business. “However, I will not be in London for much longer, so it seems silly to disrupt your household at this point.”

  He frowned. “Where are you going?”

  “To America. I thought to make a living teaching American heiresses the English ways so they can come here to find titled husbands.”

  “But everything you know is here.”

  She smiled thinly. “That is exactly why I am moving to America.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The day’s meeting with Armbruster’s man-of-business had resulted in good news and bad news. The bad news was that the earldom Jacob had inherited was not flush with riches. The good news was that it wasn’t exactly poor, either.

  The other bad news was that Jacob had some things to learn and things to do if he wanted to make the earldom profitable. Huntley, the man-of-business, had been optimistic. There was good land surrounding the estate. The former earls had been lucky and had been able to keep the land, whereas others had been forced to sell off pieces to stay afloat.

  There were opportunities for more farming and to build a factory, if he wanted, although he hated the idea of disrupting the countryside with more factories even while he understood that factories were the way of the future and provided much-needed jobs for the area.

  He had a lot of thinking to do and another meeting scheduled with Armbruster and Huntley in the future.

  When he arrived home he found Charlotte in his office, staring out the window. Usually she was in the upstairs study waiting for him, so he was taken aback to see her here.

  “You’re home early,” she said, her voice oddly detached.

  “I met with Armbruster’s man-of-business. We went over the records of the Ashland estate. It didn’t take as long as I thought.”

  “And is it good news?”

  “Good and bad. Seems I have my work cut out for me.”

  “Are you pleased with that?”

  “Mostly.” He actually was energized by this new opportunity. He’d always liked to learn new things, and this was certainly going to be a learning experience. And the opportunity to help people, to enrich his new tenants’ lives, had excited him.

  This new revelation had surprised him, but he had decided to embrace it and to use his newfound position to do good.

  Maybe Charlotte was his first project.

  “Most people would love to be the earl of something or other.”

  He tossed his hat on the chair by the door. “I am becoming accustomed to the idea.” She didn’t seem herself. There was an emotionless aspect to her that was disconcerting.

  He gave her the time she needed to gather her thoughts by sitting at his desk and eyeing the large pile of mail that had been accumulating. Invitations, Mrs. Smith had said. There were quite a lot of invitations. He wasn’t certain that he would be able to embrace this aspect of being an earl.

  Maybe Armbruster was right. Maybe if he married Charlotte the invitations would go away because he would not be in the market for a wife.

  What a shameful thought that was. Taking a wife for a shield against Society was not a good reason to marry someone.

  “Lord Chadley called on me today.”

  Jacob’s head came up, and he was instantly on edge. “And?”

  She was looking down at her hands folded across her stomach, her thumbs twirling around each other the only indication of her unsettled feelings.

  “And we talked. He’s a nice man, very apologetic.”

  “That’s good.” Right? That was good? Why did he have the feeling that it wasn’t as good as he hoped?

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t erase what they did to my mother. She’s the one he needs to apologize to. No. His father is the one who needs to apologize to her. He’s the one who caused her so much anguish. Not me.”

  “Maybe they have mended their differences in heaven.”

  Her lips twitched in a grin that made him relax somewhat. She wasn’t nearly as cross with him as he had first thought.

  “The former marquess’s actions hurt you, too,” he said. “You deserve an apo
logy as well.”

  “Maybe. But it wouldn’t change anything.”

  “You can forge a future that was heretofore denied you.”

  Her eyes held a defeated quality that he didn’t like to see. “It’s too late for that.”

  “It’s never too late to take a different turn.” He found his hope sliding away, and he hated himself for hoping in the first place. And what in the hell was he hoping for anyway? He’d already determined he wasn’t going to marry her.

  Marry Miss Morris.

  For God’s sake, Armbruster needed to get out of his head.

  “Maybe five years ago, three years ago, or even three months ago, things might have been different,” she said. “But not now.”

  “Why?” He slammed his hand down on his desk, frustration and anger boiling over. Damn it, but she was being so obstinate, refusing to open her eyes and see the possibilities.

  “Because it is!” she shouted back, her face suddenly pink with… Anger? Regret? God, why did he hope it was regret?

  “It’s not. It’s never too late.”

  “You have such a simplistic view of life.”

  He felt as if he’d been slapped. “I watched my wife die and then my son. There was nothing simple about either of those things. But what I do have is optimism and the belief that you can change your own destiny. You have that same optimism, or you wouldn’t have fled your aunt’s house and made plans to go to America.”

  She huffed out a breath, and he felt as if the conversation had derailed.

  “Do you really think I fled because I had this absurd hope for a better future? Because I wanted to change my destiny? I fled to save my life.” She yelled the last word and pounded her chest with her fist. Her color was high and she was breathing deep and she never looked more beautiful to him, but her words made him cold and fearful.

  “Why were you scared for your life, Charlotte?”

  She passed a hand over her eyes and dropped it to her side. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “If you’re in danger I have a right to know. I brought you into my house, and I have people here to protect as well.”

  “No one knows I’m here. You should be safe.”

  “Should be? Should, Charlotte? What the hell does that mean? And you’re wrong. A lot of people know you’re here. Armbruster, Chadley, Mrs. Smith, Sarah, Suzette. So, you had better tell me what kind of danger you are in and, by association, I am in.”