Loving a Forsaken Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Aria Norton

  As soon as they were alone, she turned into his chest and wrapped her arms around him. He immediately felt uneasy. This was another man's wife, and he had no right to be here speaking alone with her, much less embracing her. He gently pressed her away from him, putting a few feet in between them.

  "I'm sorry, Sarah. You know that I cared for you once, but it cannot be like it was."

  Her face fell, tears immediately springing to her eyes. "I know. I know," she whispered, tears trickling down her face. "I apologise. I've made a mess of everything. Oh, Thomas! I'm so sorry..." She dissolved into uncontrolled sobs and he looked around, uncomfortable with her show of emotion.

  He gently touched her shoulder and tried to comfort her. "There, there."

  Sniffing, she dabbed her eyes and nose with a handkerchief. Thomas noted how beautiful she still was, even with the weight she had lost. She turned her face towards his, the moonlight illuminating her tear-streaked face. And then he saw it; a deep purple bruise under her right eye. The makeup that she had used to try and cover it had been washed away by her tears.

  He touched her cheek tenderly. "What has he done to you?" She leaned her cheek into the warmth of his palm. Realising what he was doing, he jerked his hand away, walking a few paces away.

  "He is a cruel man, Thomas. I don't know what I ever saw in him. He beats me and screams at me. He calls me the vilest names... It's all my fault, though. I have no one to blame but myself."

  She was right, of course. She had traded a man who would have treated her like a queen for a man who treated her no better than a stray dog. "You have to leave him, Sarah," he said vehemently.

  "I can't." She gave a sardonic laugh, "I'm legally his wife. If I leave him, I'll be subject to a life of impecunious disgrace."

  "Is not that better than being abused?"

  She searched his face for a moment and nodded slowly. "But I can't go back to my parents. They have made it quite clear that they want nothing to do with me." She sucked in a breath as the tears began to flow again. "I have no one else I can turn to."

  Thomas turned his back on her, afraid of what he would do if he looked her in the eyes. Her beauty camouflaged her shallow heart. Abigail's face came to his mind, and he shook his head. He had to help Sarah, but it was Abigail he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

  "I will do what I can for you, Sarah. You will not be doomed to spend your existence in a poorhouse, although your life may look quite different from the one you are used to."

  "Anything is better than staying with that monster," Sarah sniffed.

  Thomas walked towards the library door, peeking out to make sure no one would see them exit together. "Be careful, Sarah. I'll send word once I've come up with a plan to get you away from him."

  He sent her down the hall ahead of him, staying hidden in the shadows until she reentered the ballroom. Waiting a few minutes so that people would not be suspicious that they had been together, he went back into the ballroom to find Mary. She was standing with a young man near the refreshment table. She gave him a cold glare when he approached.

  "Mary, I don't know what Abigail told you, but there has been a huge misunderstanding. Would you mind leaving the party early? She's walked home and I need to talk to her."

  She thought for a moment, no doubt deciding whether or not she would trust his side of the story or stick with her friend. "Very well. Excuse me, Sir Phillip. I had a lovely time," she said and curtsied. She took Thomas' offered arm, and they hurried out of the ballroom.

  "I wish she had waited for us. It is most inappropriate for me to ride alone with you in your carriage."

  "I'll take you home straight away. I am sorry; I did try to stop her."

  He helped her into the carriage, and they discussed his predicament on the way. Mary gave him a sideways glance. "What happened then? Abigail seems to think you were trying to talk to Sarah."

  He immediately coloured. He had tried to be discreet, but Abigail rarely missed a thing. She was very quick that way. "Yes, I was. But not for the reason you or she supposes. Mrs. Filmore is in trouble."

  "What kind of trouble? And is not that her husband's affair now?"

  "Her husband is the one she is being endangered by," Thomas shot back defensively.

  "What do you mean? That her husband is beating her?"

  "Precisely."

  "The law allows for husbands to discipline their wives."

  "Yes, but not with violence. Mrs. Filmore has visible bruising under her eye, and I assume many more elsewhere on her person."

  "It is not your concern, Lord Brampton. You cannot help her. She has made her decision."

  The carriage stopped in front of Mary's home, and he escorted her to the door.

  "Will you allow me to give you some advice, Lord Brampton?"

  "Of course," he replied.

  "Abigail is an intelligent, stubborn, and somewhat proud woman. She is not the kind to wait about pining for a man. She is independent and will forge her own way in life, no matter how unpopular it is for a woman to do so. Give her some time to cool off and then go and speak to her. Give her time to see the error of her own thinking."

  "Thank you, Miss Voss," he said and bounded down the steps to the carriage. A light rain was beginning to fall as he climbed back into the carriage.

  "You are not going to heed my advice, are you?" she called, shaking her head.

  "I'm sorry, Miss Voss, but no, I am not."

  Chapter 27

  He arrived at Abigail's house with the rain coming down in torrents. It was quite late by the time he got there, and so, when he climbed the front steps and saw that there were no lights on in the house, he was not surprised. He knocked and called for Abigail, but no answer came. He looked around for a moment, blinking rapidly as the water ran into his eyes.

  He remembered the servants’ entrance in the alleyway through which Abigail had gone the first night she had appeared in a man's disguise. Thomas bounded down the steps and went around the corner and into the alley. Pounding on the door, he called for someone to let him in and that it was urgent. He continued pounding for several minutes until he heard voices on the other side.

  "What is all this racket?" A woman with a very pronounced Cockney accent answered the door with a fire poker raised above her head should she need to ward off intruders.

  Thomas took a step back. "Please, Miss, I did not mean to alarm you. My name is Lord Brampton and I am here to see Miss Abigail Staton."

  "I don't know you, sir. And besides, why didn't ya knock at the front door, if you're a well-meanin' gen'leman?"

  "I tried but no one heard me."

  "Yeah, well, tha's 'cos it's the middle o' the night!" She was about to close the door on his face when he put his foot in between the door and the jamb. The woman looked as if she were ready to start beating him over the head when a young man of about seventeen appeared behind her.

  "What business have you here, sir? Don't you know what time it is? Move along," he said menacingly. He took the fire poker from the woman and stepped in between her and the stranger.

  "I apologise for showing up like this and causing a ruckus. But I must see Miss Staton. It is a matter of some urgency." Thomas took his foot out of the door jamb, wrapping his arms around his middle as the rain came down in sheets. He could barely see the young man scowling at him through the torrent. "Please, I am Lord Thomas Brampton. Surely you recognise me?"

  "Lord Brampton? I say, do come in, sir!" the hall boy exclaimed.

  The woman looked like she'd seen a ghost, stuttering out an apology. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm Betsy, the cook. We've never had reason to meet, tha's why I di'n't let you in."

  "It's perfectly alright, Betsy. I understand. I wonder if you might let Mazzie know that I am here?"

  "I'm sorry, sir. Miss Staton has left London. Not an hour ago on the last public coach," the hall boy announced. "She's gone to live with her mother on the coast."

  "Which way, please? I must stop her," Thomas pl
eaded.

  "You can' go out in this rain, sir! You'll catch yer death!" Betsy started filling a kettle with water, and he suspected that she would make him sit down by the fire and have a cup of tea. He had not the time to waste, though, even though he did appreciate her kind gesture.

  "I must. There has been a horrible misunderstanding. I have to stop her from leaving London." He let out a resigned sigh, "I love her."

  Betsy let out a yelp and smiled from ear to ear. "Well, what are you standing around here for? Go get her!" She shooed him out of the door while the hall boy gave him directions. He went out to his coachman and directed him to take him home. He would travel faster if he were on horseback. Thus, when he got home, he lost no time having a mount saddled, and set out immediately.

  Thankfully, by that time, the rain had let up. The clouds rolled away and a beautiful pale full moon was revealed, lighting his path. He had to go slowly until he reached the countryside. Abigail had had a good three-hour head start on him. By his calculations, the coach would have made three stops to change horses, which would help him as he tried to catch up. He rode hard for two hours before he finally saw lanterns bobbing up and down on the coach. He spurred his horse on, willing her to run faster.

  "Whoa there! Stop! I say, coachman, stop!" he yelled as he approached. The coachman looked at him as if he had gone mad. Abigail popped her head out of the coach, glaring at him in surprise.

  "Lord Brampton, just what do you think you are doing?"

  "I want to talk to you!" he called over the thundering of the horses' hooves.

  "Ridiculous! I have nothing to say to you!"

  "Please, Abigail. This has all been a terrible mistake. "I'm sorry about what happened back in London!"

  Abigail sucked in a breath, "You are as much to blame for that as I am!"

  Thomas wasn't sure what she was talking about. He spurred his mount on faster, coming near the coachman.

  "Driver!" he yelled, "Pull this coach over at once! The lady is getting off."

  "Is she your wife or something?"

  Thomas glanced at her, "Not yet!"

  Abigail sat back in the seat as the coach slowed and came to a stop. Thomas was not sure if she had heard his remark but decided to leave that for another time. He helped her down from the carriage and took her bag from the driver.

  "Try to keep a firmer hand on your wife, will ya? I've got a schedule to keep. Bloody runaways..." the driver grunted under his breath and then clicked the horses into motion again.

  "I hope you're happy. Now I'll have to pay another fare to get to my mother's house," Abigail said, starting to walk down the road in the same direction as the carriage.

  "What were you thinking, getting on a public stage all by yourself?" Thomas asked, walking after her.

  "What were you thinking coming after me? I thought I made it perfectly clear that I did not want to see you again." She continued trudging through the mud until he caught hold of her arm and swung her around.

  "Stop, Abigail. Please, let me explain."

  "Unhand me, sir!"

  He did as she asked, but thankfully she did not try to leave again.

  "Well?"

  Thomas took a breath and tried to explain. "I made a mistake. I'm sorry. But I have to make it right. I need your help to make it right."

  "May I remind you that you tried to kiss me, not the other way around?"

  Thomas was taken aback. "You think I'm upset about the kiss?"

  She stuttered for a moment, looking away. "Aren't you?"

  "No. Of course, not. I'm trying to ask you to come back to London and help me rescue Mrs. Filmore. You should have seen the bruise under her eye. Sir Filmore is beating her, Abigail. We have to help her get away from him."

  She gave a humorless laugh, "You want me to help you get your ex-fiancée away from her husband. Why?"

  "I can't leave her with a monster like that. No one deserves that, no matter what she's done to me."

  Chapter 28

  Abigail hoped that the relative darkness would cover up her blush. She had made a fool of herself again. Why did Lord Brampton make her lose her focus? She was beginning to act like any other emotional, lovesick woman.

  Thomas went on, "Sarah can't get an annulment just because Filmore is beating her. If she leaves him, she'll most likely lose her fortune. But at least she won't have to endure his abuse."

  Abigail shook her head. "Another woman with an end just like Elisa's..."

  "Unfortunately, yes. I can help Sarah a little, even if her parents won't. She won't end up in the workhouse. I would never stand for that. But she may have to work like Lady Elisa."

  Abigail's head was spinning, a headache starting to form behind her eyes. She thought she was escaping this whole drama, but it looked like she was jumping right back into the fire. "Perhaps there is a way to help Sarah get out of her marriage to Filmore and allow her to keep her dowry."

  Thomas perked up at this. “How?"

  "You remember the rumour that Joshua told us about Filmore using an alias? What if fraud was sufficient grounds for divorce? Besides, if Filmore is not his real name, that means he lied on the marriage contract. That alone might be able to render it void."

  Thomas's eyes lit up. "That's true. I had not thought of that. You're brilliant, Abigail!"

  He took a step towards her, but she stepped away. Thomas was happy to have found a way to be with Sarah again. Couldn't he see how this was tearing her up inside?

  "We should head back to London." She started walking back the way Thomas had come. Thomas cleared his throat, motioning for her to climb onto the horse. He helped her sit in the saddle, astride like a man. There was no use in keeping up pretense by sitting side-saddle. They would be able to ride faster that way. He climbed up onto the horse behind her, taking control of the reins.

  Abigail held her bag in front of her, secretly relishing the feel of his arms around her. How differently she wished this night had gone. If not for all the drama with Sarah Filmore, they might have danced the night away. Now she was riding back to London in the chill of the early morning, her heart broken in pieces once again.

  By dawn, they had arrived back at her house. Lord Brampton was sodden and chilled to the bone from his drenching the night before. Abigail had Mazzie light the fires and left Lord Brampton to warm himself while she changed. When she came down, he was snoozing by the fire, his feet stretched out towards the roaring flames.

  "I hope you've had a nice nap," she said, startling him as she came into the room. "You must be exhausted. I'll go and tell Betsy to make some tea and sandwiches for us."

  Thomas stretched as she left, standing to try and wake up. He walked over to the window and looked out at the awakening city. When he turned back around, he caught a glimpse of his name on the envelope of a letter sitting on the tray. He picked it up and peeked out into the hall to make sure Abigail wasn't coming. It wasn't technically opening someone else's mail, since it was addressed to him.

  He opened the seal and read, his heart sinking at her words. He found the pound notes he had given them when they had first agreed to help him. He knew they could not afford to give this money back to him.

  It was then he realised the depth of his feelings for Abigail. He had caused her so much pain through their countless misunderstandings. He threw the letter back down on the tray, rubbing his hand over his neck. He then saw another note sitting there. This one had been opened and looked to be from Joshua to his sister. Thomas moved his message and then skimmed the contents of the other.