Lady of a Recluse Earl

by Mirella Tinley

  Just then, Ambrose knocked on the door of the drawing room and entered, his eyes glancing around in bewilderment. The poor young man had no idea what was happening, having been absent for all of the juiciest drama. Emmy just looked at him apologetically, though it was not her gaze he sought, his eyes finding those of Nora’s.

  “Now may we begin, Mr Smith?” Lord Nightingale barked, evidently displeased by the whole debacle.

  Francis and Jasper looked just as stunned by the revelations that had been brought to the table, seeing their sister in a whole new light. It was not a comfortable thing to sit beneath the disapproving stare of so many, but Emmy knew she had to endure it. In doing what she had done, she had saved Mr Smith from an uncertain fate. She just hoped it was worth it.

  Mr Smith nodded, folding his arms behind his back as he opened his mouth to speak. “As I said earlier, I realise I have no right to ask any sort of mercy from any of you, but even so, I wish to make amends for what you have heard today. Miss Emmeline has protected my honour, and I wish to protect hers before any gossip can despoil her,” he began anxiously.

  “Though there were no truly wrongful actions between us, I know how rumours can ruin a woman, and I would not wish that upon Miss Emmeline. In truth, I love her, though it may be uncouth of me to say so.”

  “You are treading an extremely fine line, Mr Smith,” Lord Nightingale snapped. “You have already done untold harm, so tell us what you have to say, and then you can be on your way.”

  Mr Smith looked as though he was about to lose his nerve. “I understand, Lord Nightingale. I apologise. I shall make an attempt at brevity, though my story is a lengthy one,” he continued.

  “You see, I am not the man you think me to be. I am not a peasant or a lifelong religious man. In fact, I am a former soldier. My name is Gilbert Langley, my father is Earl of Penryn, and I served in the same battalion as Albion Wyndham. We were at Waterloo together.”

  As he told the remainder of the tale, his mind flickered back to the memory of the battle that had separated him from his friend, forever. In his nostrils, he could still smell the scent of blood and fear, with the boom of cannons going off all around him, and the cry of wounded men.

  He pictured the battlefield of Waterloo, feeling the ache in his muscles from a long day of fighting, his ears still ringing.

  In the memory, he saw the familiar figure of Albion, lying in his arms, sputtering out his last breath, the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he struggled through the crimson liquid that was filling his lungs. He had been shot, though Mr Smith—now revealed as Gilbert Langley—had not seen where the shot came from. All he knew was, Albion was fatally wounded, and there were only moments left between the two comrades.

  Even now, he could feel the tears prickling his eyes, when he thought of the last seconds they shared. Gilbert had begged Albion to hold on, reminding him of his beautiful fiancée at home, but it was clear the light was going from Albion’s eyes, never to return.

  In his dying breath, his words spluttering out, he had made Gilbert swear that he would watch over his family and the welfare of his fiancée, Emmeline Nightingale. Gilbert could still hear the echo of the words, tumbling tight and tangled from Albion’s mouth.

  And so, Gilbert had returned to England. He had made a promise, and he knew he had to see it through.

  Seeking out the Wyndham family, he had gone to Whitecroft Abbey on the day of Albion’s funeral, with every intention of telling them who he was, but when he saw the grief of Lady Wyndham, he knew he couldn’t say what he wanted to. It hadn’t seemed right and it hadn’t seemed fair, that he should intrude upon such agony, his presence no doubt adding a daily reminder to the family’s suffering, if he had told them who he was.

  With his heart seeking penance for what had happened to Albion, he came up with the perfect ruse. From the lowly position of a hermit, he could watch the Wyndham family from a distance, where nobody would notice him, without breaking the promise he’d made to Albion. But for how long a time he would remain so, Gilbert had no answer. It would be until he can find peace with himself, before he will return to his family and pick up his title and place in society once more.

  Even now, Gilbert blamed himself for what had happened to Albion. The truth was, the recollection stinging Gilbert’s heart as he pictured it—an image he had replayed over and over in his nightmares—Albion had stepped in the way of a bullet intended for him.

  Gilbert had heard the gunshot but, over the roar of so many other guns, he had thought nothing of it. It was only when Albion pushed him out of the way, that he had realised something terrible had taken place.

  Had Albion not sacrificed himself for Gilbert, he would have been able to go home to his beautiful fiancée and his wondrous family, and there would not have been a morsel of grief to go around. But, Albion had stepped in, and it had signalled the end of his life. Gilbert knew that, no matter how much time passed, he would never truly forgive himself for that.

  Taking a breath, Gilbert continued his story, letting the raw images fade from his mind. “I kept my identity under wraps, because I did not wish to share my guilt nor the pain of what happened. I felt I could not be around any of you if you knew who I was because I would always be aware of the price that was paid so I could be here instead of Albion. I wanted to stay in solitude and pay my penance for not being able to save his life.” He paused, lifting his head to gaze at Emmy, who was open-mouthed in shock.

  “So that is my secret. I am sorry for not being honest sooner, but I did not feel as though I could. And now, if you would humour me a moment longer, I should like to request Miss Emmeline’s hand in marriage. I love her, and I would do anything to keep her from harm. I will not see her ridiculed in society when I can wed her and keep her from any sort of scandal. Not that that is why I wish to wed her—I wish to wed her because her sweet nature and kind heart has healed me in a way nothing else could, and I wish to spend the rest of my life repaying her. Please, Lord and Lady Nightingale, allow me to do this for you and your daughter,” he pleaded solemnly, though his eyes did not leave Emmy’s face.

  For a very long time, nobody said anything. Emmy was speechless, unable to process what she had just heard.

  After all this time, Mr Smith was someone else entirely. Even so, she did not feel as if she had been lied to. Instead, she felt as if she had unlocked a door to a vault she had never thought herself capable of opening. Now she knew who he truly was.

  Now there were no more secrets between them, keeping them from knowing each other in their entirety.

  “You will have to allow me some time, Lord Langley,” said Lord Nightingale darkly, the words lacking hope. “I would ask that you excuse us all.”

  With a tense nod, Gilbert departed, casting only a brief glance at Emmy before he did so. It wrenched at his heart to leave her on such uncertain terms, but he knew he had no choice. He could not stay and demand an answer from Lord Nightingale, there and then, as much as he would have liked to.

  As he left, she gave him such a loving gaze, that he had to steel himself, to put one foot in front of the other.

  Now, it was up to the family. He could say no more.

  The two days that passed, since Gilbert was sent away, were truly tortuous. He did not know if he was still welcome to stay at the hermitage, but nobody tried to remove him, when he returned to the familiar surroundings.

  And so, he waited, sending up as many prayers as he could, to anyone who might be listening. All he wanted was Emmy. If they did not agree to the proposal, he knew Emmy would undoubtedly be ruined in society, but he had seen families punish their children far worse for their mistakes.

  Nothing was certain here.

  And then, as if by some miracle, one of the valets appeared at his door, calling Gilbert into the house. Apparently, Lord Nightingale had something he wished to say, though Gilbert couldn’t gauge if it was good or bad, from the stern expression on the valet’s face.

  It was t
he longest walk Gilbert had ever taken, feeling like he was heading towards his executioner. In a way, he supposed he was. Life would no longer be worth much, without Emmy by his side, and he wasn’t exactly hopeful of Lord Nightingale agreeing to the match.

  Taking a deep breath, he convinced himself that, whichever way this discussion went, everything was about to change.

  As he took the final step into the drawing room, where the family were gathered, he was stunned by the welcome of Lady Nightingale, who rushed forward and embraced him, taking him quite by surprise.

  “It looks like I am to get my summer wedding after all!” Lady Nightingale cried, her shrill voice shattering any remaining tension he felt.

  It seemed the discussion had, remarkably, gone well, though he was fairly certain Lady Nightingale had had a large part to play in the way things appeared to be turning out. She was a persuasive woman, especially where her husband was concerned—that much was clear, from the still-displeased expression on Lord Nightingale’s features. The man of the house wasn’t happy about this, by the looks of him, but his wife had seemingly won over the dispute.

  Gilbert realised that he was going to have to win over Lord Nightingale, one way or the other, once the marriage was sealed—the bond unbreakable between himself and Emmy.

  Looking to her, he thought his heart might burst out of his chest. Even if Lord Nightingale wasn’t too happy about the situation, Gilbert could not have been more thrilled. He had been expecting a stern ‘no’, and had been gifted the surprise of a ‘yes’ instead.

  Emmy smiled at him broadly, as he felt a wave of relief wash over him. Nora was smiling too, clutching her sister to her.

  “It looks like you are to be one of the family, Lord Langley,” Lord Nightingale said icily, moving across the room to extend his hand to Gilbert, his voice still carrying a note of disapproval. Gilbert took the hand and shook it firmly, struggling to hide the delight on his face, even as Lord Nightingale’s fingers threatened to crush his own.

  As soon as he had exchanged a moment of pleasantry with Lord Nightingale, though it did not yet seem appropriate, he made a beeline for Emmy, who grasped his hands in hers, remembering to keep things chaste until they could be alone together once more.

  From the look on her face, he saw that she could hardly bring herself to believe that everything had worked out for the best, when a few days before, things had looked bleak. Now that he had her back, he was determined to never let her go.

  “Did Miss Fitzroy not stay?” Gilbert asked, looking around the room, trying to find the stern face in the small crowd, but Maria was no longer there.

  Emmy shook her head. “She slipped out when nobody was looking, no doubt riled by the less than satisfactory conclusion to her brother’s murder investigation. She was pleased by my father’s words to you, but when the discussion began to turn in your favour, she departed swiftly, not even bothering with a goodbye,” she explained. “I wrote to her yesterday, to attempt to make things right with her, but I am yet to receive a reply. Anyway, let us not speak of foul things, when there is such happiness to discuss,” she enthused, squeezing his hands tightly, her gaze fixed upon him.

  After so much suffering, he had finally found peace.

  For now, there was happiness to look forward to. They had love, and that was more than either of them ever could have hoped for.

  Epilogue

  A beautiful bride

  Epilogue

  Nora had never seen a more beautiful bride. Emmy looked a vision in her white muslin gown with its cream silk underdress and tiny daisies embroidered all along the bodice and down the train.

  She had never been more radiant, with her cheeks flushed a delicate pink and her dark eyes glittering with pure joy.

  “You shall be the envy of all of Cheshire, darling sister,” said Nora softly, pinning an errant curl back into place.

  Emmy beamed with excitement. “I am so happy I feel I should burst, my dearest Nora,” she whispered gleefully, though she stopped short, her gaze resting upon the reflection of Nora in the looking glass. “I am eternally sorry for my ridiculous, boastful ways. I forgot myself. Please forgive me,” she begged, taking Nora’s hand in hers.

  Nora smiled. “There is nothing to forgive, Emmy. I wished for this, and it has come true. I wished for your lifelong happiness, and here you are, about to wed the man of your dreams,” she assured, planting a delicate kiss on her sister’s forehead. “And I must say, he looks extraordinarily dashing. Who knew there was such a handsome creature beneath all of that hermit attire!”

  “I did,” Emmy winked, causing the two sisters to collapse in a fit of giggles.

  After the dramatic events of James Fitzroy’s death had subsided somewhat, Emmy had come clean about what had taken place inside the hermitage, going into great detail, to the utter delight of Nora. It was strange to hear it spoken about with such passion and fire, but she could not help feeling intrigued by the prospect of such a thing.

  Nora knew of just such a man with whom she knew she could find passion and fire in abundance. Alas, he was an impossible wish.

  Realising that, she knew she would have to make do with the miracle of her younger sister’s happiness coming true. That would have to be enough for her. Soon enough, children would come along, and she would be able to forget the torment of her marriage, focussing on them instead.

  For now, however, she allowed herself to live half in fantasy, half in reality. It was the only thing that kept her sane.

  “I believe your carriage has arrived, sister,” Nora said, hearing the crunch of wheels on the driveway.

  With excitement bristling in the air, Nora slipped her arm through Emmy’s and helped the beautiful bride out of her chambers, across the landing, and down the stairs into the entrance hall, where the rest of the family were waiting with genuine smiles upon their faces.

  In the time that had gone by since those traumatic events, the Nightingale family had grown to adore the Earl of Penryn, forgiving him for his former sins. Even Lord Nightingale’s eye was a little less stern when it fell upon him.

  After getting into their respective carriages, the wedding party set off for the chapel, with Emmy pausing for a brief while beside the cemetery.

  Nora helped her sister down, walking her toward the familiar headstone, which still bore the remains of Emmy’s latest bouquet. Ambrose and Gilbert were already standing there.

  “We miss you, Albion. We shall always miss you,” Emmy began, speaking softly. “I swear, we shall never forget you but have you always in our thoughts.”

  Tenderly, she leant forward and kissed the top of the headstone before laying a single flower from her wedding bouquet on the grave.

  “I hope you’re smiling down upon us, Albion,” added Gilbert with a wry grin. “Until we meet again, brother.”

  With that, the small group dispersed, with the two gentlemen heading for the chapel whilst Nora and Emmy returned to the waiting carriages. It was the perfect gesture to precede the perfect day.

  There were no two people more deserving of one another than Emmy and Gilbert, and for that sweet union, Nora was eternally grateful.

  Reaching the chapel and re-entering through the same doorway she had walked through on the day she had become Lady Hodge, Nora felt a sudden shiver of déjà vu.

  However, there was something not quite right in the sensation.

  Although everything felt as though it had come full circle, Nora still felt as though something was missing.

  Shyly, she glanced up at the handsome face of Ambrose, who was sitting near the front. Instantly, she felt her pulse quicken.

  He was looking straight at her.

  Calming herself, she wrenched her gaze away, pushing the image of Ambrose’s face away from the forefront of her mind.

  It could never be. A pleasant fantasy, nothing more.

  No, her sister’s happiness would have to be enough. There was nothing else to be done.

  Returning her gaze
to the sight of Emmy and Gilbert, she felt a smile spread across her face. She had never seen a purer joy than the joy those two brought to one another.

  Whenever they entered a room together they lit it up. That was true love.

  And indeed that was enough for her.

  Preview of next book…

  Lady of a Rogue Lord

  Chapter 1

  Cheshire, England, August 1816

  “Are you happy, dear sister?” Nora asked as she and Emmy sat on the bench in the walled gardens, watching the summer sun go down.

  Davenham Park was always at its most beautiful in the summertime. The flowers were in bloom, the roses sending out their fragrant aroma, their perfume wafting through the balmy atmosphere.