An Earl's Wager: Regency Romance (Gentlemen and Brides)

by Joyce Alec

  An Earl’s Wager

  Gentlemen and Brides

  Joyce Alec

  Contents

  An Earl’s Wager

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  An Earl’s Wager

  Gentlemen and Brides

  Text Copyright © 2018 by Joyce Alec

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First printing, 2018

  Publisher

  Love Light Faith, LLC

  400 NW 7th Avenue, Unit 825

  Fort Lauderdale, FL 33311

  An Earl’s Wager

  By Joyce Alec

  Prologue

  “My dear Hartley!”

  George, the Earl of Hartley, laughed aloud and slapped his friend, Viscount Morton, on the back.

  “Morton, how good to see you!” he exclaimed, his eyes bright. “I have been looking forward to making your acquaintance again.”

  Viscount Morton chuckled, a gleam in his eye. “I know full well why you have been looking forward to returning to London, and it is not my company that has drawn you.”

  George attempted to look both shocked and upset, aware that he was failing miserably. “What are you talking about, Morton? I am more than delighted to see you again.”

  Lord Morton snorted, rolling his eyes. “You need not pretend, Hartley. You have come to see how many young ladies you can pursue, is that not the case?”

  George grinned, unable to hide the truth from his long-time acquaintance. “Indeed, I confess it has been a long, cold winter, and I have been very much looking forward to dancing with some warm bodies again.”

  Morton laughed aloud and gestured for the footman to bring them over a drink. “White’s has not been this loud in some time,” he replied with a grin, as the footman offered them both a glass of whisky.

  “You have been here over the winter?”

  His friend shook his head. “I came for the little Season, but it was rather dull compared to this. Not half as many pretty young ladies and a lot more grimacing mothers and companions.”

  George chuckled, sitting back in his seat and letting his heart fill with contentment. “I have missed it, I confess. Of course, there have been the usual responsibilities back at the estate, but they will wait for the time being. I have a very good steward who can take care of most things whilst I am away.”

  “And no intention of marrying this time?”

  Snorting in derision, George shook his head. “None at all. I still find the idea as repulsive as I did last year. Of course, at some point, I shall need to find a suitable wife, but I am in no particular rush.”

  “Your father would not agree,” Morton replied, with a slight smile.

  “My father is, most likely, turning in his grave over my behavior,” George replied, with a slight sniff. “Not that I ever really cared.”

  He and his father had never been particularly close, not even when George grew to be a young man. There had been all the duties of the estate to learn about, of course, but George had grown to hate spending time with his father, finding him to be a hard and somewhat cruel man. Oftentimes, he had mocked George’s lack of understanding, unable to understand why something he thought to be so simple was so difficult for George to understand. It had been something of a relief when the old man had passed away, leaving only George behind. His mother had died some years ago, in an attempt to produce the ‘spare’, and so, being entirely alone in the world had brought George a measure of freedom he had come to cherish.

  He had spent the last few Seasons enjoying himself entirely. There had been many stolen kisses and a great deal of liquor and cards to go with it all. Yes, indeed, the Season was a time when George could simply forget all about his duties to the title and the estate and throw himself into all that society had to offer him. He was more than aware that he had something of a roguish reputation, but found that it did not concern him. He had no intention of marrying any time soon, not when there was so much fun to be had. Mayhap when he was older, then he would choose a younger wife to produce his required children before living their own entirely separate lives.

  George was of the opinion that marriage was nothing more than a contract, one which bound two lives together for the rest of their days – although, with more than one property of his own, he was quite sure he would not have to spend a great deal of time with his wife once the children had been born. He relished his freedom, and even when it came time for him to wed, he was certainly not going to let his wife curb that in any way. He would continue to do as he pleased and to live as he pleased, regardless of what his wife thought.

  “Well, I have heard that there are quite a few new young ladies due to make their come out this year,” Lord Morton began, interrupting George’s train of thought. “One, in particular.”

  “Oh?”

  Lord Morton grinned, his eyes darkening just a little. “Indeed. Lady Ellen Newton, daughter to the Earl of Fancot.”

  “The Earl of Fancot?” George repeated, a slight frown on his face. “I had thought that the man had been terribly ill.”

  “Appears he has recovered,” Lord Morton replied, with a slight shrug. “His daughter is a little late to be making an appearance, of course, but I doubt it will affect her chances of finding a husband if she is as pretty as they say.”

  George’s frown slowly faded, replaced with a small smile. “Indeed,” he murmured thoughtfully, looking over at his friend. “A challenge, mayhap?”

  Lord Morton snorted, shaking his head. “I doubt she will come anywhere near you, Hartley. She will be well warned to stay away from the likes of you. On top of which, her father is a ruthless man. I have heard that he has taken away the fortune of those who cross him, although I am not quite sure how he has done it. You would be best to stay well away from the lady, Hartley. She is not worth your time.”

  “And yet, I am quite sure I will be able to steal one little kiss,” George replied, with a wide smile, a sense of anticipation beginning to swirl through him. “And I do believe I have never been unable to get exactly what I want.”

  Lord Morton lifted one eyebrow, a look of surprise etched across his face. “Truly? You truly mean to chase after this lady, even though I have warned you about her father?”

  George shrugged, picking up his glass and throwing back the rest of his whisky. “Why not? I have never stood down from a challenge, and should I succeed, then you will pay my White’s tab for me. If I fail to do so by the end of the Season, then I shall pay yours.”

  There was a short pause as Lord Morton considered his suggestion. “On your head be it then,” Lord Morton replied darkly, shaking his head. “I would not do such a thing, no matter how beautiful she might be.”

  Grinning, George called for another whisky, settling back in his chair. “Ah, but just think of the satisfaction of it!” he exclaimed, as the footman poured them both another measure. “I can hardly wait to see the lady, whatever her name is.”

  “Lady Ellen,” Lord Morton replied, a little brusquely. “Do not expect me to stand by you when the earl comes for your head, Hartley. You will find yourself quite alone there.” />
  George laughed, not put off in the least. “I look forward to standing victorious, Morton,” he said, still chuckling. “And Lady Ellen shall give me her kisses willingly, have no doubt about it. I intend to conquer the lady, regardless of her parentage.”

  Lord Morton shook his head, his eyes filled with suspicion. “We shall see, Hartley,” he replied, with a small shake of his head. “We shall see.”

  1

  Lady Ellen Newton stood by her mother and greeted their hosts with as much warmth as she could manage. She was truly delighted to have been invited to such a wonderful ball as this—for she had heard that Lord Marchington’s ball was one of the best of the Season.

  “I must thank you for your invitation,” she said with a smile, as she curtsied. “I am so delighted to be here this evening.”

  Lady Marchington smiled back at her. “It is very good to have you here, especially since this is your first Season.”

  “Oh, but she has been dreaming of this for so long,” Ellen’s mother, the Countess of Fancot, replied. “Her father was rather ill, as I am sure you know, but is quite recovered now.”

  “And glad we are to hear it,” Lord Marchington replied, with a slight incline of his head. “Now do enjoy yourself, Lady Ellen. There will be gentlemen eager to make your acquaintance, I am quite sure.”

  Ellen sighed happily, as she walked toward the staircase that led to the ballroom, overcome with delight. She had been forced to remain at home for two years until her father’s condition improved – although, at the time, she had been filled with thoughts only of him and not of what she was missing. Her father had been weak and tired for these two years, often spending days in his study entirely alone, without wishing to see anyone at all – not even his wife. There had been very little the doctor could do, proclaiming it to be a deep melancholy with no external symptoms, and so Ellen and her mother had wept and prayed and hoped that one day, the melancholy would leave him.

  And, for whatever reason, as the flowers came into bloom and the sun began to shine, her father had emerged from his study like a hibernating animal slowly creeping from its den. It had taken some time – weeks even, but he was soon back to full health. At times, however, Ellen still caught the look of sadness in her father’s expression, and being entirely unable to comprehend it, she had found herself entirely at a loss as to how to help him. At least, however, she was able to come to London with her mother, even if he did not attend balls and the like.

  “Now, my dear,” her mother said quietly, as they descended the staircase together. “I know I have warned you of this before, but no more than two dances with any one gentleman, and certainly do not allow any of them to hold you too close, particularly with the waltz.”

  “You are giving me permission to waltz?” Ellen asked in surprise. “I had thought you—”

  “It is two years since you should have been out, so yes, I am quite happy for you to waltz,” her mother interrupted. “But do ensure propriety at all times.”

  Abuzz with happiness, Ellen smiled over at her mother, taking in her softened expression. Clearly, her mother was delighted that she was able to give Ellen a Season, and Ellen loved her for it. “Thank you, Mama.”

  Her mother pressed her hand for a moment. “Not at all. I well remember my own Season, and I am thrilled that you are able to have one of your own. It will be wonderful, I am quite sure of it – so long as you make sure to stay away from all the rakes.”

  Ellen frowned slightly, her mouth pulling just a little. “But how am I to know who they are?”

  The Countess of Fancot laughed softly, pointing to Ellen’s left. “I believe that Lady Charlotte will be able to help you there.”

  Ellen turned at once, her face brightening as she saw her dear friend, Lady Charlotte, coming toward her with her own mother in tow. Lady Charlotte was the daughter of the Marquess of Thurston, and given that their mothers had been very close friends, it seemed inevitable that the girls would become bosom friends. Lady Charlotte had already had one Season and had brightened Ellen’s loneliness by coming for an extended visit with her mother when Ellen’s father had been at his worst.

  “My dear Charlotte!” Ellen exclaimed, embracing her friend. “How good to see you!”

  “Did you not know we would be here?” Charlotte asked, her eyes bright as she stepped back from their embrace.

  “I knew you were in London, but I did not know that you would be at this particular ball,” Ellen replied, her evening growing all the happier. “I have only just come to London, you see, and it has been something of a whirlwind!”

  Charlotte laughed, her brown eyes glowing. “Of course, I quite understand. May I say just how beautiful you look, Ellen? You are certainly going to make an impression on the gentlemen here!”

  Ellen, who had always been rather self-conscious about her red hair, put one hand up to her coiffure, delicately patting it. “Do you think so?”

  “Of course!” Charlotte exclaimed, smiling. “You have the looks of a siren, with your red hair and green eyes.”

  “A siren!” Ellen cried, rather horrified. “I would not have them think that I—”

  Charlotte laughed, shaking her head. “You need not look so horrified, my dear friend. Come now, let me show you around the ballroom and introduce you to a few people. You will have your dance card filled up almost a once, I am quite sure of it.”

  Ellen glanced over at her mother, who was still in deep conversation with Charlotte’s mother. “Might I go with Charlotte, Mama?” she asked, interrupting their conversation. “It will just be to take a turn around the room.”

  “But of course!” her mother exclaimed, sending a warm look toward Charlotte. “Thank you, dear Charlotte, for being so thoughtful. I am sure Ellen appreciates it.”

  Charlotte inclined her head before looping her arm through Ellen’s and hurrying off through the room, oft times squeezing through a seeming army of guests who were not inclined to get out of anyone’s way.

  “Now, here we are,” Charlotte said happily, as they came to the end of the room that led out to the gardens. “There are quite a few of my acquaintances that I want to introduce you to.”

  Ellen found herself greeting one gentleman after another, followed by a few ladies. Charlotte chattered happily, whilst Ellen found her dance card handed from one gentleman to another, nodding and smiling as each one requested the pleasure of her company. She could not quite remember everyone’s name, but given that she was practically surrounded by new acquaintances, she thought that it was not too much of a failing. Besides, Charlotte would be able to remind her of their names and titles later on.

  “And, of course, we must tell Lady Ellen whom she is to avoid,” Charlotte continued with a laugh. “There are a great many rogues out there, my dear friend, although none of the gentlemen standing here could be called such a thing.”

  “Indeed not!” one of them exclaimed, sounding a little offended. “I should not be particularly pleased if anyone was to think me a dishonorable gentleman.”

  “As would I,” said another, with a small frown. “You will find, Lady Ellen, that the majority of gentlemen are, indeed, trustworthy, but there are a few scoundrels amongst our lot.”

  “Then who are they?” Ellen asked, a little breathlessly. “I would like to know so that I can avoid them. I fear that I am rather in the dark at this present moment.”

  Charlotte grinned and leaned forward, talking almost conspiratorially. “Well, there is Lord Masters, who is known to try and take as many women as he can to his bed, and also Lord Ravenscroft, who is a man with such a dark countenance that it is a wonder he gets as much attention as he does!”

  “Goodness,” Ellen breathed, her cheeks coloring at hearing her friend speak so plainly about these gentlemen.

  “And do not forget Lord Bonar,” one of the gentlemen said with a disdainful sniff. “Quite the rascal, that one.”

  “As is Lord Middlemarch.”

  Ellen nodded slowly, menta
lly trying to remember as many names as she could.

  “But the worst is none other than Lord Hartley,” Charlotte finished with a broad smile. “He is here tonight, no doubt, and is quite the handsomest of gentlemen.”

  “But a rogue nonetheless,” Ellen said, seeing her friend nod. “I do thank you all, I very much appreciate your candor in this matter.”

  One of the gentlemen chuckled and held out his arm toward Ellen. “We are telling you these things plainly, Lady Ellen, so that we honorable folk might have more of your company.”

  Ellen felt herself blush and smiled up at him, aware that the next dance was about to begin. “I will not think ill of you for that, Lord Smyth,” she murmured, putting her hand on his arm.

  “In fact, I would say it is only right,” Charlotte added, as she followed Ellen and Lord Smyth onto the dance floor with her own partner. “After all, good deeds should always be rewarded.”

  Ellen did not quite know what to say, wondering if such a comment said that she thought rather highly of herself, but much to her relief, the gentlemen only laughed.

  “I will always be glad of your company, Lady Ellen,” Lord Smyth murmured, as the dance began. “I do hope I will be able to dance with you again on another occasion.”

  “I am quite sure you will,” Ellen replied quietly, doing her best to ensure that she did not put a foot wrong when it came to her dancing. She did not want to make a mistake.

  Thankfully, the dance went beautifully, and as Lord Smyth took her back to the rest of their company, another gentleman came to claim her almost at once—and back she went for another dance, her smile radiating happiness.