Loving a Forsaken Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Aria Norton

  "Thank you," she replied. Her cheeks grew flushed with the warmth of the room and he suspected, because of his hand on her waist.

  All was going well until Thomas spotted Sir Filmore entering the ballroom, Sarah hanging on his arm. He halted in the middle of the dance floor for a moment, causing Abigail to trip. He tightened his grip on her waist, catching her before she could fall. "I apologise." He kept on with the dance, glancing at Filmore and Sarah as they made the last few turns around the room.

  "Is everything alright?" Abigail asked, looking around the room in confusion. He forced himself to meet her gaze again, feeling guilty for getting distracted.

  "Yes, perfectly alright. I'm sorry. Shall we stand out for this next dance?"

  "Yes, thank you. I'm quite parched."

  He took Abigail's hand after the dance ended, and they applauded the musicians. "Here, why don't you sit here and I'll go get us some champagne?"

  "Lovely," she answered, taking the seat he offered. He turned and headed toward the banquet table, which was laden with rich delicacies and drinks. All the while, he searched for Filmore and Sarah. He found her again, although devoid of her husband. She stood in the corner, looking drawn and worn. No one would talk to her, no doubt thinking her beneath them after having run away and eloped.

  As he neared Sarah, he became even more alarmed. She had lost considerable weight in the month since he had seen her. There were dark circles under her eyes. She looked to be a mere ghost of the woman he had grown up knowing, a mirage of her former self. What was Filmore doing to her? A protectiveness rose up inside him.

  Despite his feelings for Abigail, he could not leave Sarah to fend for herself. She looked to be in torment. He had to know that she was alright.

  He quickly hatched a plan to get her alone so they could talk. He ducked out into the hall and called over one of the footmen serving drinks on a silver tray. He motioned the young man over and lowered his voice.

  "My good man, I wonder if you might help me with something. Will you deliver a note for me?" He took him to the archway leading into the ballroom. "To that young woman over there?"

  The footman hesitated. "What for, sir?"

  "It's nothing that will get you into trouble, I assure you. Carry the note in your pocket and pretend to serve her a glass of champagne. You can slip the note to her discreetly as she takes the glass."

  "But what if she doesn't want..."

  "Please, man. This is important. Will you help me or not?"

  The footman glanced around. "Very well, sir." He showed him to the library, where he supplied Thomas with a sheet of paper and a quill. Thomas wrote a hasty note to Sarah, folding it and placing it in the footman's hands.

  "Discretion is your highest priority. Understand? I will make it worth your while," Thomas said, pulling out a five-pound note. The footman tried to grab the bill, but Thomas pulled it away and replaced it in his jacket pocket. "Deliver the note first, then I shall give you your reward."

  "Yes, sir." The footman set off with his tray and made his way over to Sarah. She shook her head at first when he offered her champagne. However, after the footman whispered to her, she nodded slowly, taking the glass. Thomas watched the footman press the small piece of paper into her hand and then walk away. Sarah turned her back on the ballroom and read the note.

  Sarah turned back around, hiding the note in her fist. She searched the room as if looking for him. He stepped out from the archway, and their eyes met. She gave a subtle nod and went back to people-watching. Before going back into the ballroom, he peeked around the corner to see if Abigail was watching. She was not, seemingly enthralled by the dancing. He took a deep breath and stepped back into the bright ballroom, pasting a smile on his face.

  Chapter 25

  Abigail watched Thomas disappear into the hall, wondering what he was doing. He had bypassed the punch table, gawking at Sarah Filmore with open curiosity. Abigail glanced at Sarah Filmore, watching as a footman approached her. He whispered something to her quickly and passed a note to her.

  If she had not been so perceptive, she would have barely noticed the exchange. However, with her keen eye and Thomas’ strange behavior putting her on alert, she had thought it wise to watch Sarah as well.

  It had not escaped her notice how Thomas had looked at her, although she had pretended not to see. What scheme was he now working on? And why was he acting so secretively if he were not doing something shameful?

  When he did not return for several minutes, Abigail started to feel like she had been duped. She stood up and went in search of Mary, feeling that she could not stay for another minute. Thomas has betrayed her again, and she would not endure it this time.

  She found Mary dancing with a gentleman on the far side of the ballroom. She wove her way through the crowd and waved Mary over. When the dance ended, Mary came to her side, a smile on her face.

  "Where is Lord Brampton?" she asked, her face falling.

  "I don't know." She took Mary's arm, separating her from her dance partner, and nearly broke into sobs. "I saw him walk out of the ballroom. There is a young lady here whom he used to be engaged to. I fear he is meeting with her in secret. Oh, Mary, what do I do?"

  "It could be a coincidence, Abigail. Let us wait and see what happens and you can confront him if you feel it necessary." Mary linked her arm through hers, handing her a handkerchief in case it was needed.

  However, Abigail refused to cry, even if her suspicions were proved correct. She and Lord Brampton had spent a lot of time together during the week leading up to the ball. Would he really jeopardise what they were building to speak to his lost love? What if seeing her had caused him to have second thoughts about his relationship with Abigail?

  All the questions swirling in her mind was making her think irrationally, doubting every look and word Lord Brampton had said to her. Finally, Lord Brampton came back into the room, searching the crowd for her. An instant later, Sarah Filmore came back into the room via the door she had left through.

  She threw a glance in Thomas's direction. Seeing that he gazed at Sarah. Abigail was immediately jealous at the exchange. She hung her head, berating herself for getting her hopes up. Of course, if the opportunity presented itself, Thomas would go back to Sarah. She had been so stupid to think Thomas could forget such a beautiful woman.

  "I'm going to walk home, Mary. You stay if you want to," Abigail said simply, going around the other direction so that she would not have to run into Thomas.

  "Wait, Abigail! You can't walk home. This is absurd. Talk to him before you go and get his side of the story," Mary tried to catch hold of her hand, but Abigail jerked it free.

  "You saw, Mary! You were witness to it, too. Sarah came in a split second after Thomas. They were meeting somewhere in private, I know it." Abigail kept on walking, tears blurring her vision.

  "Abigail!" Thomas yelled over the din, but Abigail did not stop. He had seen her, and now she would have to hurry out if she wanted to avoid talking to him. And indeed, she did want to avoid a scene. She did not want to speak to Thomas Brampton again for as long as she lived, even if he was the Earl of Harborough.

  "Abigail, stop," he whispered pleadingly as he caught up to her.

  Abigail tore her arm free, turning on him with all her fury. "Do not touch me so, Lord Brampton." She said it loud enough so that others could hear. Several guests halted their conversations to listen in on what was thought to be a lovers’ quarrel. Abigail kept walking, aware that Thomas was following her at a safer distance this time. She stormed out of the ballroom amidst whispers and openly curious glances.

  When they reached the foyer, Thomas caught back up with her, touching her arm. "I said, don't touch me!" Abigail nearly exploded. Thomas held up his hands and followed her outside.

  "Where are you going? What's happened to make you so angry?" Abigail ignored his questions and brushed past the butler as she breezed out of the front door. Thomas bounded down the steps next to her, pleading for her to sl
ow down.

  "I will not slow down. I saw the way you looked at Sarah. Mrs. Filmore seems to have quite a hold over you, and I will not be a party to your sick game any longer." She then turned and walked down the street, leaving him on the bottom steps of the grand house with a pained expression spreading across his face.

  She heard him call his coachman and instruct him to follow her home. Abigail ignored the young man's entreaties to get into the carriage so he could take her home as his master had asked. She would not be obliged to Lord Brampton any more than she had to be. "You may tell your master that I am not a woman for hire." She glared at the coachman, "Return to your master."

  He would not listen, though, and followed her through the streets of London until she reached home. With an exasperated growl, she stood on the top step of her house and waved the driver away. He did as he was told and returned to the party only after he watched her go inside. "Insufferable man," she grunted, closing the door behind her. Mazzie heard the door open and was soon at her side to take her shawl.

  "You are back early, Miss. Has something happened?"

  Abigail did not want to dissolve into tears in front of the girl, so she lifted her chin and put on a brave face. "I am a fool, that's all. Please send up a tray of anything we have-- fruit, bread, cheese."

  "Yes, Miss," Mazzie replied, hanging up her shawl and heading back down into the kitchens. Abigail went upstairs to her room, dejected and heartbroken.

  There was only one course of action left open to her concerning her relationship with Lord Brampton. She would need to remove herself entirely from the situation. She had made a fool of herself when he had tried to kiss her, and an even bigger fool of herself for accepting his invitation to the ball.

  It was common for a man to take a wife and have a mistress on the side. Had that been his plan for her and Sarah? Mrs. Filmore had been his first love. However, as a man of his station, he would need a 'proper' wife to bear sons for him. She had been such a dolt! Joshua would never let her out of his sight again.

  Mazzie appeared a few moments later with a tray laden with fruit and bread and a steaming pot of tea. "Betsy thought a nice cup of tea might cheer you up a bit," Mazzie said as she set the tray down for her on the small round table in the center of the room. "And a letter came for you from Mr. Staton."

  Abigail's heart started racing, hoping that he would allow her to join him on the campaign trail. Anything would be better than staying in London where Lord Brampton might try to hound her. "Thank you, Mazzie."

  Mazzie helped her change into her nightdress, placing a light shawl around her shoulders. "Thank you. And thank Betsy for me, as well. No need to wait for the tray; you can clear it in the morning."

  "Of course, Miss. Good night."

  Abigail bid her goodnight absentmindedly, wishing for some privacy so she could read her brother's letter. She sat down on the edge of her bed, moving the tray to sit atop the soft coverlet so she could rest her tired feet. Taking a bite of bread, she opened the letter and began to read,

  My dearest Abigail,

  I was glad to receive your letter. It does my heart good to know that you still believe in your old, disgraced brother.

  Despite my best efforts, a critical vote has gone against me. I have decided to quit the campaign and give in to my opponent. It is not ideal, and the people will be worse for it, but he has charmed them so thoroughly that there is no way for me to pull ahead.

  There have also been rumours of our dalliance with Lord Brampton, which Sir Filmore has used to poison the voters' minds against me. Please know that I do not blame you. I should have protected you from such a man.

  I shall be back in London in a few days, and we can discuss our next steps. Try not to be too disappointed in me. We shall have to endure living in the country, after all. At least, I will. I plan to look for a parish away from the hustle and bustle of London. However, I know this kind of life will never suit you. I promise that I shall do my best to find a worthy husband for you, perhaps a politician that has made a better life for himself than I have.

  As always, I remain your most affectionate brother,

  Joshua

  Abigail finished reading the letter, her hand clamped over her mouth with silent tears streaming down her face. Everything they had planned for their enemies was coming upon them instead. It was just as the Good Book said in the old Proverbs, "Whoso diggeth a pit shall fall therein: and he that rolleth a stone, it will return upon him." Their 'brilliant' plan had backfired on them. The financial ruin they had planned for Sir Filmore was coming on them instead.

  How could she have let this happen? She had known from the beginning that this scheme with Lord Brampton was dangerous. Even more, she had lost her heart in the process. Now, she would have to move to the coast with her mother and aunt.

  Her brother would have to return the money that Lord Brampton had given them. Perhaps it carried a curse with it since it had been given in order to cause the ruination of another. Returning the ill-gained fortune would undoubtedly cause the permanent breakdown of their family reputation. It was the only way to leave Lord Brampton behind for good.

  She rang for Mazzie, apologising for the lateness of the hour. "I need to pack and be ready to leave for my mother's cottage. I’ll take the last public coach traveling there. You will remain here until Mr. Staton can come and settle his accounts and close up the house. I am so sorry, Mazzie, but we will have to part ways."

  Mazzie's face registered her shock and concern. "Leave you, Miss? No, please. Take me with you!"

  "I cannot possibly take you with me, Mazzie. I'm afraid we are ruined. My brother and I will be leaving London for good."

  It took some time to calm the girl enough so she could focus on packing Abigail's bags. As she did so, Abigail sat down at the writing desk to write a letter to Lord Brampton.

  Dear Sir,

  I am writing to inform you that my brother and I will be leaving the city. Please find enclosed the two thousand pounds you gave us at the beginning of this fool-hardly venture. My brother will be returning to town in defeat. Our plans have backfired on us. Sir Filmore has bested Joshua in the campaign, and he returns in disgrace.

  As for me, I will be returning to the coast to live with my mother and aunt. I wish you the best with Sarah.

  To what might have been,

  Abigail Staton

  Abigail folded and sealed the letter with a heavy heart, not caring that Mazzie could see her tears. Teardrops fell onto the letter, causing the paper to rise in spots as it dried. What if he tried to come and stop her from leaving, she wondered? It would not matter anyway. She would be gone before the letter was delivered to him.

  Chapter 26

  Thomas went back inside after he had watched Abigail turn the corner, his coachman trailing her all the way. Apparently, she was too stubborn to accept a ride home in his carriage, even though he himself was not in it. He silently berated himself as he climbed the steps and went back inside. His rendezvous with Sarah was soon approaching, and he did not want to keep her waiting. Making amends with Abigail would have to wait for a while. First, he needed to speak with Sarah to make sure she was alright.

  He knew it should not matter to him, defending another man's wife. It was not his job to look after Sarah’s wellbeing anymore. How could he walk away when her life might be in danger? He had every reason to surrender her to the consequences of her actions, but a part of him still cared for her.

  The butler nodded to him as he reentered the foyer, pretending that he had not been a party to the exchange between him and Abigail. Instead of going back into the ballroom, he walked down the hall and turned the corner, surprised when he bumped into someone. "I do beg your pardon. Please, forgive me," he said, grasping the person's arm to keep them from falling.

  "Thomas," came a soft voice. It was Sarah. He had barely recognised her in the darkened hallway.

  "Sarah," he breathed, feelings of guilt rising. "Let us talk in here." Keeping his
grasp on her arm, he led her into the dimly-lit library.