The Reluctant Earl

by C. J. Chase

  “I was. Phoebe seems to especially enjoy the sunshine—not surprising after so many years confined to a single room—but I tired. I left her with Molly and returned to the house.”

  “Forgive me, my dear. I left you standing. How thoughtless.” He nudged her into the chair he’d vacated moments before. “I can’t believe the maid let you return by yourself.”

  “Stop fretting, Julian. It’s a child, not some dreadful disease.”

  A child. Their child. His mind sketched a little girl with bows in her hair, a dimple on her cheek and her mother’s compassion in her heart. “I bought you a gift.” He retrieved a paper from the desk and offered it to her.

  “A deed?”

  “You once told me that if you ever suffered an excess of funds, you would use them to help others.”

  Her brows drew together. “But land? What am I to do with a piece of property?”

  “Put a building on it and hire staff.”

  Understanding kindled in the wide hazel eyes. “An asylum! Oh, Julian.” She launched herself from the seat straight into his arms.

  “An asylum that treats the patients humanely and accepts even those who cannot pay.” He rested his cheek against her hair and breathed the soft fragrance of lavender. “I thought perhaps you’d like to go with me tomorrow to look at the property.”

  “Anywhere, Julian. I will go anywhere with you. God has blessed us beyond measure. It’s only right that we should share our bounty and joy.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of A Royal Marriage by Rachelle McCalla!

  Dear Reader,

  I love history, so when I decided to write Julian’s book, I researched the major events of the late Regency to see what real events would have had an impact on the characters.

  Historians identify 1816 as the Year Without a Summer. A convergence of unusual solar activity and a massive ash cloud from the eruption of Indonesia’s Mount Tambora created a “volcanic winter” throughout much of the northern hemisphere. The unusually cold, wet summer caused poor harvests and scarcity by the winter of 1816–1817. Famine engulfed much of Europe and North America. With Europe still reeling from the devastation of the Napoleonic Wars, civil unrest soon followed.

  It was against this turbulent backdrop that I set a story about two lonely people caught up in the events of the time. Of course, I took a few liberties. No one knows the identity of the person who fired on the Prince of Wales’s carriage in January of 1817, but since conspiracy theories do make for fun stories, I let my imagination loose.

  I love to hear from readers and can be reached through my website at www.cjchasebooks.com.

  C.J. Chase

  Questions for Discussion

  Leah felt her secret was too shameful to share, so she wouldn’t confide in anyone beyond her cousin. If she’d trusted friends, would she have been as susceptible to despair and bad choices? What are some steps we can take to alleviate the loneliness of the people in our sphere of influence?

  Julian was a younger son until his brother died, several years before the beginning of the story. He felt unprepared to inherit his father’s properties and responsibilities. Has God given you an assignment you never expected? Looking back, can you now see how God prepared you for that role?

  Leah believed God didn’t hear her prayers because her sister never got better. She saw no purpose to her sister’s suffering. Does any suffering have a purpose?

  Leah’s sister, Phoebe, suffered from a traumatic brain injury during a time when resources to treat such injuries (speech therapy, physical therapy, etc.) were limited. Consequently she ended up in an asylum with people suffering from other injuries and mental illnesses such as schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. Today, we know chemical imbalances in the brain cause many of these disorders and they can frequently be treated with medications, yet the stigma against mental illness remains. What are some things your faith community can implement to support families touched by mental illness?

  For many years, Leah refused to consider God might have a plan for her life. When she at last opened her mind to the possibility, she could see how God had been working. When have you been surprised by God’s plan for your life?

  Leah finds Psalm 37:3 marked in her father’s Bible, and it comes to have special meaning for her: “Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.” What specific verses or passages have been especially encouraging to your during difficult times in your life?

  Today Caroline’s disability would be labeled as Down Syndrome. Matthew 25:40 tells us “whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers [and sisters] of mine, you did for me.” And yet upwards of 90 percent of those with special needs do not attend church. What are some things you and your church can do to reach the special-needs community?

  Julian and Elizabeth had been close as children until his sister’s estrangement from their parents. Even after his retirement from the navy, he waited two years to visit her, during which time their father died. Could—and should—he have attempted anything sooner to bring about reconciliation? What should be our response to discord between people we love? How can we be instruments in reconciliation?

  Both Julian and Leah found themselves in difficult situations where they tried to take charge of things on their own. How might their lives have been changed had they put their trust in God and sought His guidance? How hard do you find it to cede control of your life to God?

  The winter of 1816–1817 was a time of unemployment and scarcity. People responded in different ways. Rioting was all too common and led Parliament to pass the Gag Acts, which cracked down on dissent. What would you do if your family and friends couldn’t get adequate food? What response should we have to hard economic times?

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.

  You find illumination in days gone by. Love Inspired Historical stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

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  Chapter One

  Castlehead, Lydia, A.D. 801

  “A ship approaches, Your Majesty. Her sail is spread with the Carolingian cross.” Renwick, chief messenger among the Lydian guard, bowed low before the king.

  “Charlemagne.” His Royal Highness, King John of Lydia, lowered the sword with which he’d been sparring with his younger brother, Prince Luke. Why would the Holy Roman Emperor send a ship to Lydia unannounced? Charlemagne’s realm had expanded vastly under his leadership, but John had assumed the renowned ruler would have no interest in the tiny kingdom of Lydia. Was he wrong?

  King John turned to face the messenger. “She approaches directly?”

  “Making for the wharf at high speed, sire,” Renwick panted as though he, too, had run to reach the king quickly.

  “Then we shall make haste, as well.” Sheathing his sword, John headed for the courtyard gate, the fastest route to the Mediterranean shore.

  “To the lookout tower, Your Majesty?” Renwick appeared confused by the king’s choice of direction.

  “No, Renwick.” John led the way. “To the wharf.”

  Prince Luke ran beside him. “Why would Charlemagne visit Lydia? We are not his vassals.”

  “I doubt it is Charlemagne himself,” King John acknowledged. “The emperor regularly sends emissaries throughout his empire to report back to him.” He prayed that was true this time, irregular though it might seem.

  “But Lydia is not part of his empire.” Luke chafed visibly at the idea.

  “We are p
art of Christendom. As such, we ought to ally ourselves closely with the Holy Roman Empire. Such a position could prove to be advantageous.” John reached the end of the wharf and shielded his eyes from the sun, examining the quickly approaching vessel, her sails emblazoned with the distinctive Carolingian cross, four triquetras joined at the center to form the distinctive symbol of Emperor Charlemagne’s reign.

  “Three masts!” The sight filled John with awe. Lydia had no ship to match it. And yet, “She looks to be wounded.”

  “Aye, brother.” Luke clapped one hand on John’s shoulder and pointed with the other. “Her foresail has been rent and hastily mended. Do you think she has weathered a storm?”

  “Or an attack.” John met his brother’s eyes.

  “Saracens?” Prince Luke spoke the word softly, as though saying it aloud might draw the vicious pirates closer.

  “They raid the Mediterranean waters regularly.”

  “Never so close to Lydia.”

  “We don’t know how far this ship has come,” King John acknowledged. “Or whether the Saracens may have taken her.”

  “Taken her?” Fear sparked in his brother’s blue eyes as he looked out to the ship and back at the ramparts of their castle. If the pirates had taken the ship, they could approach under Charlemagne’s cross and dock before the Lydians realized trouble had reached their shores. The castle’s defenses might be breached before they could even prepare for battle. “Why would Saracens approach so boldly?”

  “For no good reason.” John shook his head. He didn’t want to believe that Saracen pirates had taken the emperor’s ship, but given her condition, it was a distinct possibility. “Let us pray for Lydia’s safety.”

  While the brothers murmured hasty yet heartfelt prayers, King John heard the rumble of boot steps on the wharf. He turned to find Eliab and Urias, two courtiers who’d been his father’s close advisors, panting as they trotted down the wharf.

  “Your Majesty,” Urias called out. “You should not be out here!”

  “This does not look good.” Eliab gestured to the ship as he bent to catch his breath.

  “His Majesty should hide until we’ve determined the motives of the approaching vessel.”

  John dismissed their concerns. The pair often treated him as though he was still a child, though he’d weathered twenty-eight winters and had ruled Lydia capably since his father’s death four years before. “I may determine their motives much faster if I stay here.”

  “They’ve put down a boat!” Renwick had hardly taken his eyes from the ship.

  “They’re worthy seamen, then.” John approved of the ship’s rapid loss of speed. They’d obviously put down an anchor. It was wise. He’d never docked such a large vessel alongside the wharf, and though he couldn’t be sure the depth of the ship’s rudder, he doubted they’d have made it to the dock without scraping against the submerged rocks that hid not so far below the water at low tide.

  “What are they loading?” Luke studied the men as they carried a large fabric-draped bundle onto the boat. From the care they took in handling it, the cargo must have been delicate. The dark green cloth glistened in the sunlight like silk. Whatever was wrapped inside must be quite valuable.

  A plump, wimpled figure was loaded next, with no shortage of howling admonitions. Then six burly men boarded and took to the oars with vigor, slicing through the water as though Charlemagne himself was watching.

  “I believe that bundle is a person.” John observed the way they’d propped the bundle in the stern with the wimpled woman fussing over it. “A slender figure, perhaps a youth or a child.”

  “Or a woman,” Prince Luke offered.

  “On a ship?” Urias scoffed.

  “It is possible,” Luke pointed out as the boat drew nearer and its contents easier to see. “The cut of the silk clothing is certainly suggestive of a female. And it would explain the lady in waiting.”

  “Bah. A nurse to the child,” Urias insisted.

  “Whatever it is, I hardly think myself to be in immediate danger from it.” John felt glad that he hadn’t run and hidden as his father’s advisors had suggested. Granted, he had an obligation to protect the throne. Urias and Eliab were understandably skittish about the issue of safety, having been with his father, King Theodoric, when he’d died defending one of Lydia’s villages on the Illyrian border.

  But King John had two younger brothers and a much younger sister, as well. Prince Luke was a worthy leader, and Prince Mark would be, too, if he ever returned from his long journey by sea. God would provide a leader for Lydia. When his wife had died in childbirth three years before, John had resolved that his line would end with his death. He would not ask another woman to risk her life trying to bear an heir for him.

  “You don’t suppose it’s a ruse?” Eliab watched the fast-approaching boat with skepticism. “To lull us into thinking we’ve nothing to fear and take us while our guard is down.”

  “Eliab, you are far too suspicious,” John chided him. As the boat moved closer, the shrieks and groans of the white-faced woman in the wimple grew louder. If she was part of a ruse, she was overplaying her role. Rather than pay the woman much heed, John examined the faces of the other men in the boat. To his relief, none of them had the stature or features of Charlemagne.

  John had met the emperor once, before Charlemagne had been crowned Holy Roman Emperor of all Europe. Then King of the Franks, Charlemagne was an impressive bull of a man who ruled with an iron fist. Despite the power and gusto with which he governed, the man was also an intellectual and a devout Christian of renowned faith. John not only respected and admired him, he also feared him.

  And he feared, too, the reason for this unannounced visit under Charlemagne’s sails. Protocol would have had them send greetings well in advance of their visit so that John would have an opportunity to make preparations to host them. Obviously, there had to be some reason the men hadn’t wanted him to meet them well prepared.

  The wimpled woman howled. She swayed on her feet but refused to sit. Her cries carried ahead of the rowboat through the warm August air. “Must you lurch so? Oh, I fear I shall faint before we make it to the shore!”

  The rowing men grimaced, and John suspected they’d have liked for the woman to faint, if only to still her cries. As the boat drew nearer, the man closest to the prow, the only man without an oar in his hand, called out, “Greetings in the name of Charlemagne, Emperor of all Rome.” The man spoke in impeccable Latin. “What lands are these?”

  John could only hope his own linguistic training was up to the imperial standard. “Friends, this is the Christian Kingdom of Lydia.”

  A relieved smile spread across the man’s face, and John realized his expression had been quite anxious up to that moment. The man tossed a rope. “We seek King John, the healer.”

  “You have found him.” The symbol of cross and crown that decorated John’s habergeon signified his position. He caught the rope and pulled the boat toward the dock with a mighty heave. Behind him, Luke and Renwick grabbed the line, while Eliab and Urias stumbled over themselves.

  The man’s smile grew broader. “Then God has surely been with us. I am sorry to arrive unannounced, but we had no alternative.” As the boat was pulled alongside the length of the dock, the man bounded onto the wharf and bowed low. “I am Boden, a servant of Charlemagne and acting captain of the emperor’s ship.”

  “Acting captain?” John looked the man over. Clearly the youth was a strong and strapping lad, but he hardly seemed old enough to be a captain. Indeed, he was certainly younger than John or Luke.

  “Alas, my beloved father was commissioned captain by Charlemagne himself and vested with a mission of the utmost importance—to carry the emperor’s most precious cargo. But we were attacked at sea by Saracens, and my father died defending his ship.” Boden’s face blanched as he spoke.

  “You have done well to continue on his mission.” John hoped his words would provide some comfort to the youth.

&nbs
p; But Boden only shook his head. “I implore thee, Your Majesty John the healer. You are our only remaining hope that this mission might succeed.” He raised his hand toward the boat.

  The wimpled woman had quit her moaning and now peeled back the silk veil that covered the face of the bundled figure the men had so carefully loaded onto the boat.

  John saw a flushed jawline and rosy lips that could only belong to a woman. So Luke had been right. This was no boy but a female of about twenty years of age. In fact, whoever she was, her features were beautiful, her complexion pale, save for a flush John recognized all too well.

  Fever.

  Her drawn lips confirmed it. The woman was suffering. No wonder Boden had twice referred to him as John, the healer. It was a title he was loath to use, but one which desperate men rushed to give him, especially when they had need of a man to stand between their loved ones and the advancing scythe of death. Yes, he’d been trained by his mother as a healer—a practice her family had observed for generations. When he’d taken to his studies with far greater success than his brothers, some had said he had a gift.

  Now he considered it a curse. He hardly considered himself worthy of the title healer. Not when he’d failed to save his own wife or the mother who’d trained him.

  Boden nodded to the lady in waiting, who peeled back more of the cloth.

  “Ah!” Urias and Eliab recoiled at the sight of the infected gash above the woman’s right eye, which followed the curve of her eyebrow. The angry wound had swollen her eyelid shut, festering across her face in fever-reddened waves.

  John understood immediately. He’d seen injuries that had deteriorated to a similar state before. Rarely had the sufferer survived. Rather than ask the men to lift the young woman, John lowered himself into the boat and approached her. He could smell the rancid scent of the infection and recognized with dismay the golden yellow crust that seeped from the gash.