Loving a Forsaken Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Aria Norton

  She rolled over and yawned. "What time is it?"

  "Nigh on five o'clock, I expect. Best get up now so we can light the fires."

  Abigail got out of bed and dressed quickly. She had brought her black linen dress and an extra white cap and apron from Mazzie. A tiny mirror hung by the door, and she looked at her reflection before joining her roommate in the hall. "By the way, I did not catch your name last night at dinner."

  "It's Fanny." The girl stuck her hand out, and Abigail shook it. Her grip was firm for a woman.

  "My goodness; that is quite the handshake you have there. My brother would be jealous," she smiled.

  Fanny returned her smile. "My father owned a farm outside London. Five girls and no sons, so you can imagine we had our share of work. Never been the gentile type."

  Abigail nodded and followed her downstairs to help light the fires. The morning passed uneventfully. When Sir Filmore came downstairs for breakfast, the maids had already headed downstairs to have their own breakfasts. The footmen served the meals. Maids were expected to be out of sight unless they were summoned.

  By nine o’clock, Abigail was cleaning the parlor windows when Mrs. Filmore suddenly appeared. "Oh, you must be the new maid."

  Abigail jumped, turning on her heels so quickly that she almost fell over. She clasped her hands behind her back, hiding the rag she had been using to clean the windows. "Ahh... Yes, My Lady. I am Abigail. I mean, Abby," she stuttered, making a complete fool of herself. She bit her lip and decided to keep her mouth shut.

  Mrs. Filmore came into the room, lifting an eyebrow at her. "You don't look much like a maid." Mrs. Filmore looked her up and down. She was even more beautiful than Abigail could have imagined. Her blonde hair was done up in the latest fashion. Her sparkling blue eyes flashed with fire. Why, Abigail could not begin to understand. "I apologise, My Lady. I will finish the parlor when you have no more need of it this afternoon."

  "No, stay. I want to talk to you," Mrs. Filmore replied. She went and closed the door and then turned on her. "Did you think I would not see through your little ruse, uhh... What is your name again?"

  "Abby Smith, My Lady," Abigail lied. What had given her away?

  "How dare you come into my house and try to deceive me!" Mrs. Filmore screeched.

  Abigail backed away. "I don't understand..."

  "My husband hired you, I presume? I know you are not a maid, Abby Smith. If that is even your real name. You are one of my husband's many mistresses, are you not?"

  Abigail was too shocked to answer right away. She stuttered helplessly for a moment, "No, madam. I assure you, I..."

  Abigail did not expect the swift slap that Mrs. Filmore dealt across her cheek. She held her hand to her cheek, glowing red with Mrs. Filmore's handprint. Stumbling back in shock, Abigail felt tears spring to her eyes.

  "I swear, My Lady, I am not involved with your husband. I have never even seen him..."

  "Get out of my house this instant, you little tramp. And I assure you, if I ever see your face you will never work in this city again - am I clear?"

  "Yes, My Lady," Abigail replied, too surprised by Mrs. Filmore's vehemence to defend herself further. Mrs. Filmore followed her downstairs to alert the housekeeper that Abigail had been sacked. The housekeeper watched her pack her things and then herded her out of the servants’ entrance. Abigail looked back at the house as she walked away. "Well, that was a disaster," she whispered. "I didn't even last twenty-four hours."

  Chapter 22

  Thomas had received Abigail's note about having found a job at the Filmores’ house and he instantly felt ill. Why would she go through with the plan if she was so angry with him? Her plan was foolish and dangerous. She knew what kind of man Filmore was, and yet she persisted in her course of action. He vacillated between worry and exasperation. Abigail was as strong-willed as her brother was indecisive.

  The next morning, Thomas dressed quickly and headed out of the door without having any breakfast. He would go to the Staton house and try to find out more information from Abigail's servants.

  He knocked on the door, and a few moments later, Mazzie appeared. "Lord Brampton!" she exclaimed.

  "Hello, Mazzie. I have come to call after Miss Abigail. Have you any word from her?"

  "No, My Lord. She only left last night. I assume she will write when she has some news." Mazzie stood behind the door as if she were afraid of him.

  "Why did you let her leave? Did she say how long she was to keep up this ruse?" Thomas took a step closer to the girl, who shrank back and closed the door slightly.

  "No, sir. Only that she will be there for as long as it takes." She looked around at the passersby. "I really should get back to my chores."

  "What chores can you possibly have to perform? Your mistress is gone, as well as your master. I assume Mr. Staton has no idea of what his sister is up to?"

  Mazzie bit her lower lip, tears coming to her eyes. He knew he was frightening the girl, but he was so worried he could not think straight. What would Filmore do to Abigail if he found out she was a spy?

  "I'm sorry, sir. I only know what my mistress has told me."

  Thomas hung his head and let out a frustrated breath. "Very well." He pulled out a calling card and handed it to Mazzie. "Please have her write to me as soon as she is back."

  "Yes, sir.Of course, sir." AS soon as he turned to leave, Mazzie closed the door. Perhaps he had been too hard on her, but he was so anxious for Abigail's safety. He had not heard from her since telling her about Sarah. How could he tell her that he was falling in love with her? Would she think him a liar if he told her that he had utterly forgotten about Sarah?

  He spent a restless afternoon at home, hoping for word from Abigail to come. Finally, at about three o'clock, a note came saying that she would call on him that evening. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was safe. Calling his housekeeper in, he ordered a lavish dinner and asked that the dining table be set with another place. "Oh, and have fresh white roses brought into the study."

  The housekeeper gave him a sideways glance but said nothing, going to do her master's bidding. He laughed to himself, having never requested flowers of any kind brought into the study before. Indeed, there had not been flowers in the house since his mother had passed away. "They remind me of funerals," he had told the housekeeper.

  The butler came into the study at five o'clock, announcing that a gentleman was here to see him. Thomas cocked an eyebrow. Why would Abigail come to see him in disguise again, especially with her brother out of town?

  Abigail swept into the study with the confidence of a man. She met his gaze, a fiery glare blazing in her beautiful brown eyes. Evidently, she had not forgiven him yet. And why should she? No woman wanted to feel that she was the second choice.

  "Lord Brampton, how good of you to see me on such short notice." She stuck out her hand, and he had to hold back a laugh as he took it. She shook his hand firmly, which surprised him.

  "Thank you, Fulton. Please let me know when dinner is ready," Thomas instructed. Fulton closed the door as he left.

  Abigail relaxed her shoulders and took off her hat when the coast was clear. "My goodness. I didn't know you would come in disguise again." Thomas could not keep the laughter out of his tone. "I've had another place set for you if you'd like to stay for dinner."

  "I told you that I would come in disguise to alleviate any suspicion. Your reputation is paramount, is it not?" The coldness in her voice made him cringe. "And I am not here for dinner. It would not be appropriate for me to stay."

  "Why not? There is nothing wrong with two gentlemen having supper together," he smirked, amused by her interpretation of a man.

  "I am not a gentleman. I am a woman, lowborn as I am. I would thank you not to forget that." Her steely gaze held enough ice to freeze the warmest summer. How he wished he had kept quiet about his prior relationship with Sarah!

  "Abigail, I'm sorry. I only meant..." he tried to reach for her but she took several s
teps away from him, going to the window to look out on the gardens. Clearing his throat, he began again. "I was worried about you. It was foolish of you to go forward with your plan without consulting me."

  "It doesn't matter anymore. Mrs. Filmore sacked me this morning," she replied. "She accused me of being one of Sir Filmore's mistresses."

  All the air left his lungs at this news. "She sacked you?" Had Sarah seen Filmore eyeing up Abigail? He would wring the blackguard's neck himself if he'd laid a hand on her. "Did Filmore touch you? I swear I'll..."

  "No, I didn't even see Sir Filmore. She must be very suspicious, your Sarah."

  "She's not 'my Sarah' anymore. And I'm glad she sacked you. It was too dangerous for you to be there anyway." Thomas immediately regretted saying those words the moment they left his mouth.

  She laughed without mirth, glaring at him. "It's good to know you have such little faith in me. I didn't even last a day, Lord Brampton. I've failed you!" She shook her head, her voice shaking with emotion. He took a tentative step towards her.

  "You didn't fail me. You found out a valuable piece of information. Mrs. Filmore knows about her husband's mistresses. There is trouble between them already."

  "Yes. It did not take him long, did it?" She turned to look up at him. Her eyes were filled with tears, and he could tell she was doing her best not to let them fall. "Are all men so fickle?"

  Her words stung. Blinking, Thomas hung his head. "Abigail..." He closed the distance between them, not caring if it was improper, and took her in his arms. She tensed for a moment until he touched her cheek and wiped away the single tear that had escaped her eyes. "I know I hurt you when I told you about Sarah. I swear, she means nothing to me now."

  She would not meet his gaze, studying the buttons on his jacket instead. Her breath came in short, quick gasps. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted it, willing her to look up at him. She kept her eyes trained on his jacket, her thickly-lashed lids trembling. "You don't believe me?"

  Raising her lids slowly, she finally met his gaze. "I... I saw her, Lord Brampton. She's nothing like me. I'm plain and awkward, while she is beautiful and elegant. I wouldn't blame you for trying to win her back," she admitted.

  She thought he was trying to win her back? No wonder she had been so cold towards him. "Don't ever say that again." Her eyes shot up at his tone, questioning. "You are the furthest thing from plain, Abigail." He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She looked away again, his lips brushing against her forehead. He lifted her chin, his thumb tracing her jawline. His gaze traveled down to her full, pink lips, and without even thinking, he slowly leaned down to kiss her. Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes, turning her face up to his.

  Before their lips touched, she pushed him away. He let his arms fall to his sides, ashamed. She stood there looking at him, shocked by his behavior - and hers, no doubt. Cursing his indiscretion, he reached out for her. This time she moved away, holding up her hand for him to stay a safe distance from her.

  "Abigail, please. I'm sorry," he pleaded. How could he make her understand that Sarah could never compare to her?

  "No. I will not be just a fleeting distraction for you to assuage your loneliness," she said flatly. "I may not be Lady Sarah, but I have feelings just the same as you." She crossed to the desk, brushing past him. She stuffed her hair back into the hat and fled the room without a backward glance. Thomas ran after her, calling for her to stop.

  She was out of the front door and running down the street before he could catch her. Hurrying out into the street he tried to catch up with her, but she mingled in with a crowd and soon disappeared in the mass of bodies.

  "Abigail!" he called, standing up on a lamppost to try and see over the crowd. He didn't care who saw him, afraid that if he lost sight of her, he would lose her for good. "Abigail!" Several passersby gave him dirty looks as they walked by.

  Thomas let out a breath and walked back to his home, berating himself for allowing his emotions to get the best of him. That was not how a gentleman should behave. He would not blame her if she never wanted to speak to him again. But he could not let that happen. He would die if she were not in his life.

  "May I help, sir?" Fulton asked as he came back inside.

  "No, Fulton. You may tell the cook that I am going to the club for dinner. Make my apologies. You may serve the dinner to the servants, a special treat from you if you wish." Thomas retrieved his hat and walked out of the door without another word.

  How could he have been so foolish? No man would ever kiss a woman that was not his fiancée. Abigail had bewitched him, his emotions taking over before he realised what he was doing. It was not just a physical attraction that drove him, but a need to protect her, to hear what she would say next. She would never trust him now. Are all men so fickle? Her words came rushing back now, slapping him in the face.

  Perhaps he had been using her as a distraction from his despair and loneliness at first. His need to be with her had changed into something much more than a barrier against his depression, though. She was someone who understood him, even more than Sarah ever had. Sure, Sarah had listened to his ideas about politics, just as any young woman had been trained to do at the exclusive finishing schools.

  Abigail was different. She was genuinely interested in what he had to say, spouting ideas of her own, even when she disagreed with him. It was refreshing to have a debate with a woman, to see her unique perspective. She had even told him of her belief that women should be given the vote, that the right to vote should not be reserved only for men with titles. His colleagues would be up in arms if they heard such 'nonsense,' as they called it.

  Women should have a say in politics - not because they are more sensitive or more intelligent than men. We should have a say in how this country is run because we are fellow human beings and deserve a say in our own destinies.

  He had baulked when she'd first told him of her views. The memory brought a smile to his face. He needed her in his life because, without realising what she was doing, she had become a part of him.

  Chapter 23

  Abigail returned home, ashamed and mortified by her behavior at Lord Brampton's home. He had nearly kissed her again. Why would he torment her with the hope that he really did have feelings for her?

  She rushed up to her room, hoping to be alone before dinner was announced. Looking around the empty house on her way to her room, she wondered what she was even doing there. No one needed her now. With Joshua gone on the campaign trail and her mission with Lord Brampton thoroughly demolished, she had no reason to stay. Perhaps she could be of use to Joshua on the trail. Heaven knew he would need every ounce of help to win the upcoming election. It would be a miracle if her brother lasted until the vote in November.

  She changed out of the clothes she had stolen from her brother and stowed them in the corner for Mazzie to take down to the laundry. She never wanted to see the odious articles again - she wanted to forget that she had ever tried to disguise herself as a man. It would be better if she could put the whole ordeal behind her. She must forget the precious few weeks of happiness and freedom she had experienced with Lord Brampton. Love was a cruel mistress, to be sure.

  Sitting down at the writing desk, wrapped in her linen dressing gown, she endeavored to write to her brother.

  Dearest Joshua,

  London is lonely without you. I hope that all is going well with the campaign? With some space between you and Sir Filmore, I pray that your public is welcoming you.

  Speaking of Filmore, I have some rather discouraging news. I have decided to quit my plans with Lord Brampton. His scheme is impossible, I know that now. I must admit that I wish I had listened to you sooner. It is no use. He will be upset, I am sure, but he will come to see my reasoning is sound in time.

  I long to join you on the campaign trail and hope you will give me your blessing to join you at your earliest convenience. I should not have let you go alone, and for that, I am sorry. I want to help you in any way
I can. Please write to me with your answer as soon as possible. I can be ready to leave at a moment's notice.