by Aria Norton
Loving a Forsaken Earl
A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
ARIA NORTON
Copyright © 2020 by Aria Norton
All Rights Reserved.
This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Loving a Forsaken Earl
Table of Contents
Loving a Forsaken Earl
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
The Secret Plan of Dazzling Ladies
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
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Loving a Forsaken Earl
Introduction
Miss Abigail Staton leaves a quiet country life behind and travels to London to live with her brother after their father’s tragic death. As an inexperienced politician, her brother has struggled in running for a seat in the Commons. Abigail, however, is exceptionally astute and has a particular knack for politics. When a stranger shows up on their doorstep asking for assistance with an unusual scheme of revenge, Abigail’s life is turned upside down. Despite her misgivings, she is unable to resist the opportunity to work with this handsome stranger and possibly save her brother’s career and livelihood. With powerful feelings overwhelming her, will she manage to navigate this precarious situation without ending up with a broken heart?
With a wedding to his childhood sweetheart just a few weeks away, Lord Thomas Brampton feels he has found love and is on his way to having the family he has always dreamed of. When his fiancée suddenly leaves him for another man, Thomas’ world falls apart and he decides to make this man pay. Setting out to accomplish his plan, he finds himself working alongside a hopeful politician and a captivating young woman who surprises him every step of the way. Will Thomas choose to stay focused on his goal or will his heart unwittingly open up to entirely new, wonderful possibilities?
As Abigail and Thomas are thrown together by fate, she starts to see what a caring and kind man he really is, and he can’t help but be drawn to this extraordinary young woman. Feeling they are in an impossible situation, neither of them dares to hope for a chance at something unimaginable... With all their plans gradually taking shape, will this risky plot succeed, or will it turn out to be the ruin of them all? Will Thomas and Abigail ever allow themselves to see each other in a new light and go after what their hearts truly want?
Prologue
Abigail Staton stood beside her weeping mother as her father's coffin was lowered into the grave. She sniffed back tears, lifting her chin to try and maintain a brave front. Her brother, Joshua, stood on their mother's right, holding her elbow should she faint.
Abigail glanced over at him, seeing his face set in a somber frown. Joshua and her father had never been particularly close. His demands over her brother's life had been too constricting to allow any warm feelings to blossom between them.
It had been the same for her and her father. As a doctor who treated the county's high-class citizens, Doctor Elias Staton had rarely been home. Even when he was, Abigail and Joshua found that they could never live up to their father's exacting expectations.
He had always pushed Joshua to better himself, and the family’s standing, by distinguishing himself in the political arena. For Abigail, he had had plans of a triumphant marriage to an earl, or maybe even a viscount.
Abigail turned away from the grave, steering her mother down the stone path leading back to the church. Joshua followed a few paces behind, his head hung low. Neither of them had accomplished their father's visions for their lives before he passed away. The memory of his last words to her haunted her dreams and dogged her every waking hour.
"You should have married when you had the chance. And now you and your mother will live in squalor for the rest of your days…"
The disappointment in his eyes was worse than his cruel words. Fear for an uncertain future, combined with her mother's grief, had made the last few weeks of her father's life nearly unbearable. If not for Joshua, she would have distended into madness by now.
"Don't worry about us, Father." She had tried to comfort him during his last hours, "Joshua will look after us."
He had given a derisive laugh. "I can't trust that boy to put one foot in front of the other, let alone make a name for himself in politics. No. It will be up to you, Abigail. You must marry well and save the family from ruin. Promise me…"
She had promised to help put his mind at ease as he drifted from their world and into the next. However, she doubted a man of means would be tempted to take her as a bride: untitled, a modest dowry, the sister of a lowly politician.
"Come, Mother. We should get out of this weather. I believe it is going to rain." Abigail turned her towards the coach, and Joshua helped her in. Their mother seemed hardly able to walk on her own, drifting through the days like an apparition. Despite all their father's shortcomings and coldness towards his children, their parents had loved each other.
Climbing in and sitting down alongside her mother, she grasped her mother's icy hand. Her mother glanced over at her after several seconds, as if seeing her for the first time that day. "Your father loved you," she whispered, barely audibly. Abigail met her brother's gaze, who wore the same pained expression. Why could her father have not said it when he was alive? Why had he been so cold towards them, if what her mother said was true?
"I know, Mama." Abigail gave her a weak smile. Now was not the time to voice her questions, not with her mother so frail. Why did people always wait until it was too late to tell those closest to them how much they loved them?
***
The next few days were a whirlwind for Abigail. She oversaw preparations for their moderately large home to be rented out. With the stipend her father had set aside for her mother, the larger house was no lon
ger within her means.
"We shall be perfectly comfortable living with my sister at her seaside cottage," her mother had explained. Her nose and eyes were still red from the constant onslaught of tears.
Abigail had rebelled against the idea, though. A quiet country life was not to her liking.
"You may come and stay with me, sister, if ever you have need of some excitement." Joshua had raised an eyebrow at the idea of her living in the country. He knew her temperament, knew that she would go mad twiddling her thumbs while their aunt prattled on endlessly about her 'dear, departed Francis'. Their uncle had died nearly fifteen years before. Their aunt had yet to stop talking about the funeral or relay what 'dear, departed Francis' would have said. Oh, no. A country cottage was the last place she wanted to be.
"You would not mind me going to live with Joshua, would you, Mother? I could help him run his home and play hostess for his parties." Her brother was as yet still unmarried. At three and twenty, he had plenty of time to find a bride. However, Abigail did not. At one and twenty, her father had made her out to be an old maid, a veritable spinster in the making.
Her mother had looked up at her surprise. "I would not mind at all, my dear. Joshua could benefit from a woman's touch around his house.” It had become immediately apparent in their few visits to his London home that he was not the best at hiring servants or ordering meals. "He will need to make a good impression on his guests if he is to gain any clout as a politician."
Abigail let out a sigh of relief at the memory. Thankfully, her mother and aunt got along well. Her mother listened to her aunt's endless reveries about Francis without complaint. And her aunt coddled her mother in her 'nervous complaints' and random crying spells.
It would be a pity to see the old house go to renters. She had grown up in this house and had shared some wonderful childhood memories with Joshua. They had practically raised themselves since the luxury of a governess had not been something their parents could afford.
She now walked the halls, ensuring that every room was cleaned to perfection and the essential family heirlooms were packed away. All her father's paintings and books would stay with the house. Sighing, she sat down heavily in one of the chairs in the library, relishing the smell of the musty books and the memories of the many happy hours she and Joshua had spent there. She stood and went to a poorly lit shelf near the back of the small library, dug behind a few large volumes, and brought out her secreted copy of ‘The Rights of Man’ by Thomas Paine. Had her father known she had been reading such a book, he would have burned it immediately and forbade her from ever reading such 'rubbish' again.
She clutched the book to her chest. Her father had tried for years to make a politician out of his son. However, it was his daughter who had been given the passion for government and its many intricacies. "You should be the one running for office," her brother had stated on several occasions.
Abigail exited the library, holding the precious volume at her side. If only women were allowed to compete in the political arena.
A few days later, the house had been closed up and readied for the tenants that would arrive the following Saturday. Abigail took one last look at the home before climbing into the public coach. Her mother wept as they pulled away, their trunks weighing down the carriage.
They traveled nearly non-stop until they reached their aunt's cottage near the Devonshire coast. The cliffs were breathtaking, and for a moment, Abigail felt at peace. Exhausted from having to oversee all the preparations for leaving the house, she fell into fitful snatches of sleep throughout the journey.
"Oh, my dears! How good to see you all have arrived in one piece! My nerves have not given me a moment's peace since learning of your departure. As my dear, departed Francis used to say, one should avoid travel in the winter at all costs! I was afraid for your lives every minute!"
Abigail's aunt met them at the coach's door and did not stop to take a breath until they had all reached the door of her cottage.
"It is so good of you to allow Mother to stay with you, Aunt Beatrice," Abigail interjected during a slight pause.
"Oh, my dear, think nothing of it. It will be good to have someone to pass the time of day with. Since dear Francis passed, I have been wanting the companionship of another fellow human being. My sister will be quite comfortable here, I am sure. Just like the old days when we were girls, won't it Caroline? Now, do come in before we all catch our deaths of cold…"
Aunt Beatrice continued talking, rattling on about the improvements she had made to the cottage over the years. Joshua allayed Abigail at the door and rolled his eyes. "Are you sure we need to stay? Aunt Beatrice will make sure Mother settles in." It was no secret that Joshua did not care for their aunt.
"Joshua, we cannot leave her now. We have promised to stay for a few days to see that she is settled. Besides, I am weary from the journey. And so are you. A few days at the coast will help bolster us before we continue on to London."
"Very well," Joshua said tersely and followed her into the cottage.
In time Joshua saw that she was right in breaking their journey to London. They spent most of their time walking along the cliffs just a mile from their aunt's cottage or ambling along the seashore.
"Write to me often, my dears," their mother requested as they said their goodbyes. Three days was more than Joshua could take, and Abigail was eager to be on her way as well.
"We will, Mother," Abigail promised for both of them. She gave her brother a sideways glance, and he stepped forward to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.
"Goodbye Mother. Do let me know if you are in need of anything from London." She hugged him awkwardly and nodded.
"Thank you, my boy." Her mother turned when their aunt came out onto the front stoop.
"Really, Caroline, I cannot believe you are allowing your only daughter to go running off to London. It is improper for an unmarried woman."
"She is going under my care and protection, Aunt. It could not be more proper for her to do so." Joshua turned as the public coach was seen coming down the road. He waved down the coachman, who slowed the carriage and came to a stop in front of the house.
"Goodbye, Mother." Abigail hugged her mother one last time as the trunks were loaded onto the top of the coach. Joshua waited by the open door to help her in. She hugged her aunt, who kissed her on the cheek despite her disapproval.
"Take care, my girl," Aunt Beatrice whispered. "As my dear, poor Francis used to say, where one door closes, God opens another."
Nodding, she took a step back and took both of their hands. "We'll make you proud, Mother. I promise."
She then turned and walked to the coach, tears threatening to stain her cheeks. Perhaps her aunt was right. Maybe this would be a whole new start for her. She imagined what it would be like to find a husband, to start a family of her own. She would not be cold and unfeeling towards her children, as her father had been towards her. All her life she had strived for his approval, to know that he loved her. How differently she would do things with a family of her own.
Waving as the coach lurched forward and started down the road, Abigail wondered if she would ever be happy again.
Chapter 1
One year later
Lord Thomas Brampton, Earl of Harborough, entered one of the private meeting rooms in the gaming house, finding a haze of pipe smoke hanging in the air. This is not how he had envisioned his day going. As one of the members in the House of Lords, he had been called into the hastily gathered meeting by his superiors.
Prime Minister Spencer Perceval had been shot a few hours earlier as he entered the House of Commons. Thomas' political party heads had called an emergency meeting to discuss what was to be done. However, since the authorities had already taken the perpetrator into custody, Thomas did not see what else could be done. A merchant by trade, John Bellingham, had not tried to escape after shooting Perceval in the chest.
"He says he acted alone. I do not think we need fear that a conspiracy i
s afoot. Perceval was not popular with the poor classes, with his unlimited spending to win the war against Napoleon. Even so, Bellingham swears that he acted alone, bringing retribution to the government." Lord Elinger puffed on his pipe nonchalantly, as if they were discussing the horse races' latest outcome rather than a man who had been murdered in the front hall of the House of Commons.
"I agree. John Bellingham is a man redressing a grievance, or at least what he believes is a grievance. He says he was wrongly imprisoned in Russia and that the British government should compensate him. I hardly think him intelligent enough to lead a rebellion, though," another of the older gentlemen chimed in.
