Winning the Merchant Earl: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 8)

by Arietta Richmond

  “Oh! I am so sorry that I have asked you to speak of such painful things. I must explain my reasons – for I did not ask simply to dig into gossip.”

  Charlton was startled at her response – she could see it in his face. He had not expected her to understand.

  “I fear, my Lord Pendholm, that your life and mine are intertwined, although neither of us truly knew that until now. For my story is, in its way, as painful as yours. My brother took his own life, not quite two years ago now. He did so, because he had been ruined, gambling with your brother, who had led him ever deeper into hells of the worst sort. When he had lost everything we owned, beyond the entailed properties, except one small house which was my mother’s, outright, he could not bear it, and in his despair, he killed himself. The ton cared nothing for how we might feel, my mother and I – they gave us the cut direct, they shunned our company utterly, for the sin of having a suicide in the family. Were it not for the business partnership I have forged with the Mortons, we would have starved last winter. In a most unladylike way, I chose to sully my hands with trade, that my mother and I might live. A year of fearing, every time I met someone, that they would remember, that they would turn away in disgust, led me to choose a different life. I apologise for invoking that feeling in you, just now – I did not know that you were not the man who ruined my brother.”

  Charlton came to her, and took her hands, deep emotion in his eyes.

  “Raphael was right about your courage, although he did not tell me how he knew. You have my deepest apologies for what my brother did to your family. I know that nothing can restore your brother, or undo the damage done, but I hope that, over time, in some way, I can do something to help, to set things right where I can.”

  “You are gracious – more than I deserve.”

  “You deserve, my dear Lady, a better treatment from the world than you have had. This may sound strange, but I believe that I would like you to meet my mother. She is the strongest woman that I know, and the most practical. She also will wish to do something to redress Michael’s wrongs. And I suspect that you will like each other – a lot.”

  “But… surely for her to meet me, would bring my family’s taint of scandal to yours – I would not do that to anyone, willingly.” Charlton laughed, a sharp, bitter laugh.

  “Believe me, we are already quite thoroughly tainted with scandal – not just from the gossip about all of the terrible things that my brother did, but by the fact that his death came at the hands of an unknown assailant, who knifed him in the back, multiple times, in a dark alley in the most disreputable part of London. Another touch of it will make no difference at all. I would value your friendship over people’s opinions.”

  Sera was hard pressed to prevent herself from bursting into tears. This was the first time that a member of the aristocracy had treated her with kindness since before. And to think that it should be this man, from this family. A man that she now knew herself to have unfairly reviled!

  “I would… value your friendship greatly, also, my Lord, if you can forgive me my foolish assumptions and attitudes.”

  “Of course I forgive you, for it is completely understandable, especially as you did not know of my brother’s death. Let us start things anew from this moment, and allow that both of our brothers acted in destructive ways – for which neither of us carry blame.”

  “Let us do so, indeed. I must ask you, my Lord to do one more thing, which may cause you pain. My mother needs to meet you, and to hear your story. To understand the truth of the things that led to her son’s death, and to know that you are not like your brother. Will you agree to meet her, in the next few days, as dealing with the Police allows?”

  “Most certainly I will – perhaps, we should do two things at once – perhaps I should bring my mother to visit you also?”

  “I would be delighted, my Lord. My thanks for being the person that you are.”

  The sound of clapping brought them both back to the awareness of there being others in the room. Sera flushed, a little embarrassed at having carried out such an emotional conversation with an audience, but what was done was done. They turned towards the source of the sound. Gabriel stood, looking, in that moment, remarkably like Raphael, and applauded.

  “May I commend you both on your great good sense? I was not at all looking forward to a life where my brother’s best friend, and the woman he cares for, were at daggers drawn.”

  “Really Gabriel! That is a little overdone! But… I must agree with your sentiment. Perhaps Raphael will be happier when he returns to discover this turn of events.”

  Sophia looked at Sera, whose face had flushed red at the words, and whose feelings of guilt and regret must have shown on her face. Sophia smiled, shaking her head gently.

  “My dear, do not fret. He will understand.”

  Bella, with the resilience of the young, recovered rapidly from her ordeal, even feeling much better the following morning, especially as there was no requirement for her to speak to the Police again. She was bruised, and uninterested in going out of the house, but otherwise unharmed. Sophia suspected that it would be a long while before she trusted another young man with her company.

  The Police Officer came to Morton House and spoke to Sophia, Jenkins and the message boy, taking down each of their descriptions of the previous day’s events, in detail. Jenkins raised the question of what they should do about the horse and carriage of Porter’s, which they had retrieved from the Inn where he had left it, and the Police officer agreed to go with them to deliver it to Mr Arbuthnot senior, as he had intended to visit the Arbuthnot home next, to inform them of their son’s situation.

  Jenkins was keen to get the equipage out of the Morton’s mews, and went immediately to arrange it.

  When he returned to Morton House an hour later, in a hackney, he described Mr Arbuthnot’s reaction to the news as ‘resigned – almost as if he had expected such a day to come, and soon.’ Arbuthnot senior had immediately left to accompany the officer, to see his son. Sophia shuddered – for any parent, that was the kind of moment that they desperately wished they would never have to face.

  The only positive part of the whole escapade, from Sophia’s point of view, was that Sera had discovered that Charlton was not the man she had thought him. Now, she thought, they only needed to find a way for both Sera and Raphael to overcome their pride, and be willing to speak to each other again, once he returned.

  Considering how she might bring them to do that, with unashamed intent to matchmake, Sophia went more cheerfully about her day.

  ~~~~~

  Sera had finally returned to her home well after the turn of midnight, and, once she had assured her worried mother that all was well, had fallen into bed. Detailed explanations could wait for the morning. The morning which seemed to come far too soon. Sera felt as if she had barely laid her head down before Polly came to build up the fire and assist her to ready for the day.

  Today might be rather challenging, thought Sera, as she went down to the breakfast room. She would need to tell her mother of her discoveries with respect to the Pendholms.

  It was not a conversation she looked forward to. To begin with, she would have to admit to her own foolishness and unthinking assumptions. And then, she would need to deal with her mother’s reaction. Which might, quite reasonably, be as violent as her own had been, at mention of that name.

  The breakfast room was warm, the fire in the grate adding to the paltry warmth that came with the late Autumn sunlight through the large windows.

  “Good morning mother.”

  “My dear, you look rather ragged – did you not sleep well? Or is your anxious and worn appearance the result of something else?”

  “I slept very well thank you, although perhaps not for as long as I would have liked, but you are correct, my anxiousness comes from another cause entirely.”

  Sera served herself from the ample food on the sideboard, yet again reminded of how different her life was, than it had been, ju
st a year before. She had no idea where to begin with what she needed to tell her mother, so, in the end, she simply began with her arrival at Morton House the following evening.

  “Mother, I have much to tell you. Yesterday evening was rather trying – and rather dramatic. For when I arrived at Morton House after closing up the manufactory for the day, I found Mrs Morton pacing and worried, because Isabella had not returned from an afternoon drive with young Porter Arbuthnot.” Sera continued, telling her mother all that had happened. When she reached the point of the rescued Bella’s return, she paused.

  Lady Galwood looked at her, expectant.

  “Go on Sera – for I can see that there is more to tell.”

  “Mother… I… find this somewhat difficult to speak of. I was sitting there, in the Morton’s parlour, feeling terribly guilty about the fact that my business idea, and my family scandal, had put Bella in danger. I was wondering if the effects of James’ actions, in taking his own life, would ever really be done with, when Sophia thanked Bella’s rescuer, by name. Those few words tumbled me into an abyss of confusion and uncertainty. I must ask that, as I tell you the rest, you hold yourself calm, and do not ask me anything, until you have heard the whole of it.”

  Lady Galwood looked rather confused herself, at Sera’s words, but nodded her agreement. She knew her daughter. Sera would not ask such a thing for no reason.

  “Her rescuer was Viscount Pendholm.”

  The words were stark, bare and simple in the quiet room, underlain only by the slight crackle of the fire. Lady Galwood gasped, then controlled her reaction, waiting.

  “But… he is not the man who ruined James.”

  “How can that be? We know it was Pendholm. James spoke of him so often, in those last dark days.”

  “The man who ruined James was the current Viscount’s brother – a man who, apparently, died a violent death not long after James died. Perhaps God is just after all. Nevertheless, I was foolish enough to assume that all of that family would be as bad as the man who ruined James. I was wrong. I… have asked him to come here as soon as he is able to, to meet you, to tell you his story, in his own words, and to answer your questions.”

  “I am not certain that I shall be able to do that, with any facsimile of graciousness or forbearance.”

  “I believe that he is a man well able to deal with your reactions, whatever they may be. His family have also suffered by the actions of his brother. You will see.”

  “If you wish it, Sera, I will try to listen, and to maintain my composure. But I do not promise to succeed.”

  “That is all I can ask, mother.”

  For the remainder of breakfast, they were both silent, caught up in their thoughts and memories. Then, as Sera readied herself to go to the manufactory, a message arrived, delivered by a footman in livery. Viscount Pendholm requested the pleasure of calling upon her, at one of the clock that afternoon. So soon! For a moment fear assailed her, then she took a deep breath, and composed a note agreeing to his suggestion, sending it back with his footman before she could change her mind.

  Sera sent a note to Jenkins, asking that he deal with affairs at the manufactory that day. Then, taking Polly with her, she went out for a walk, walking the streets that had become so familiar, greeting the merchants’ wives, looking into the window of Mr Tanner’s shop, buying some late harvest apples from the fruit vendor at the corner. It grounded her in this place that was now hers, away from the life of the ton, with all of their judgement and nastiness.

  By the time she returned to the house, she felt sure of her place in the world again (except, of course, for the gaping ache where Raphael belonged, that she forced herself to ignore).

  She settled herself in her parlour to wait, with tea and biscuits, whilst she entertained her mother with tales of the lives of the girls who worked at the manufactory. At precisely one, there came a knock at the door. Moments later Briggs opened the door, and announced, “Viscount Pendholm, Lady Pendholm, and Lady Harriet Edgeworth.”

  Sera’s heart beat frantically – he had brought his mother, and his sister! She stood, and stepped forward to greet them. Once the introductions were done, everyone was seated, and more tea and cakes had been called for, Charlton spoke.

  “I hope that you will forgive me, Lady Serafine, for bringing both my mother and my sister. I felt that, as this matter touches so deeply on both of our families, it was perhaps best if we were all present, and all able to share our stories.”

  “Lord Pendholm, there is nothing to forgive. This is a strange situation we find ourselves in, which calls, I feel, for unusual measures.”

  “I am so glad that you feel that way! My now deceased son has left a terrible legacy in pain caused to others. A legacy of wrongs that Charlton and I now strive to put right, to the extent that can ever be possible. When he told me of you, of what Michael did to your family, I knew that I had to meet you, to apologise to you, face to face.”

  Lady Pendholm’s sincerity was clear on her face, and the sadness in her voice left no doubt that she struggled with these issues every day. Sera felt a kinship with her, in that moment, and was glad that she had come. Lady Harriet was a bright young woman, with a marked resemblance to her mother. She fidgeted a little as if stillness were unnatural to her.

  Sera suspected that Lady Harriet and Isabella might have much in common, in their nature. A small awkward silence fell, as if none of them knew quite where to start, on the momentous task of understanding the invisible bonds that tied them together. Then Lady Galwood spoke, tentatively, but in a steady voice.

  “Perhaps it might be best if you tell us about the previous Viscount. And, where appropriate, we can add what we know of things, and tell you what happened to James.”

  “As good a way to go about things as any. I believe that I should start, as Charlton was still in Spain when it all began, more than two years before he returned. There had been, I now realise, many hints of the sort of person that Michael was, even from childhood, but I had ignored them. I think that no mother wishes to think her child bad in any way. I must take full blame for not curtailing those things early. When William died, and Michael became Viscount, it gave him the chance to indulge his worst habits – so he did.”

  Lady Pendholm spoke quietly, but did not hesitate to tell the terrible truths of the things that her son had done. Her emotion was clear, and as she spoke, tears trickled down her cheeks. Her son handed her a handkerchief, and she took it, not slowing in her description of the terrible things they had uncovered, once Charlton had returned from the war, and taken up the responsibilities of Viscount. Sera found herself respecting this woman deeply – for her courage, and her strength, that had dealt with such pain, and managed their estates whilst Charlton was at war, then faced the terrible discoveries when he returned. Lady Galwood simply sat, listening, her own eyes bright with unshed tears.

  “I feel that I must be the most unnatural mother, but I cannot change the fact that I was glad – glad! – when Michael was gone. Oh, not that he died such a terrible death, stabbed in that disgusting alley, but glad that he could no longer hurt anyone else. But it seems that I underestimated the ability of bad deeds to reach beyond the grave, and continue to hurt people for years. For here we are, and each month, sometimes each week, we discover new wrongs to lay at his door. We have only one tiny thing that I would say is a positive. Because the murderer was never discovered, and therefore the reason for his death not made public, and because Michael’s deeds were rumoured, but never openly proven, the ton have not shunned us completely, although they have made our lives very uncomfortable at times.”

  “That is, indeed a positive thing. For they were far less forgiving of us, when James killed himself. Us, they shunned completely. And with everything we had gone, gambled away, except the entailed properties which went to cousin Benjamin, along with the title, and this house, that was mine outright, we would have starved last winter, if Sera had not been strong, and clever, and not too proud to wo
rk.”

  At these words, Lady Pendholm looked stricken.

  “Everything else lost gambling… to Michael? We know that he ruined many a young man, that he enjoyed doing so, in some twisted way. But we have no record, no knowledge, of who those poor young men were. Please, let us help to restore some of those losses. If you can tell us properties, or other identifiable items, we may yet be able to trace their current status, and, perhaps, return some of what was yours to its rightful place.”

  It was Lady Galwood’s turn for tears.

  Lady Harriet reached across and passed her a handkerchief, which she silently accepted. Such a simple gesture between the two families seemed overwhelmingly significant to Sera.

  “I do not dare to hope for most of it. But… we will make a list. You are beyond gracious to offer such recompense.”

  Lady Galwood, like Sera, had grown far beyond the ton’s attitude to charity, after the year that they had spent barely surviving.

  At that point, Charlton took up the story, describing his search through all of Michael’s papers, when he had returned home, and the terrible picture that had emerged.

  He spoke of his time in Spain, and the bond that he had with the other Hounds – the bond which had allowed Raphael to call on him to be available to help, should he be needed.

  He spoke, also, of the things that Lady Pendholm had already done to atone for Michael’s deeds, of the girls she had tracked down, and made a home for – girls who had been abused by Michael when they were maids in her house, and whose illegitimate children she now acknowledged as her grandchildren, no matter what the ton might think.