Restoring the Earl's Honour: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 17)

by Arietta Richmond

  Sin went to his mother, and dropped to sit beside her, taking her hands in his. She seemed far older than he might have expected, even had he thought about it – her once dark hair was greying to an elegant steely shade, and her face was lined with the evidence of worry. But her eyes were bright still, and glittered with unshed tears.

  Ever so gently, he drew her into his arms, and held her, trying to say with his actions everything for which he had, as yet, no words. She stiffened a moment, then sighed, and relaxed. They stayed that way for minutes, and Faith had the sense to say nothing. Eventually, Lady Hungerwood lifted her head, and sat back from him. Sin released her, and watched as silent tears slipped down her cheeks. He drew forth his handkerchief, and offered it to her. She took it with a grateful nod.

  “Oh my! I did not intend to be such a watering pot!” She wiped the tears away, and smiled. “Faith, do ring for some tea – and perhaps some brandy.”

  “Yes Mama.”

  He found that he did not know what to say. For nigh on seven years, he had thought of his family, regretting that he would most likely never see his mother and sister again, and now that he was here, he found himself struck silent, the tumble of years’ worth of tales to tell making it near impossible to start. Faith, having spoken to the footman who had answered the bell, returned to them, and settled into a nearby chair. He cleared his throat, and forced words to come.

  “I… I don’t know where to start. When I left England, I expected to never return, yet here I am. I expected never to bear the title, yet now I do – and I suspect that there is much work to do, to overcome my brother’s actions, and his rather scandalous death – am I correct?”

  His mother glanced at Faith, then met his eyes. He inferred from that glance that there were likely some things that Faith was unaware of.

  “You are correct. We are… less well-off… than we used to be, I am afraid – not disastrously so, I believe, but still… I am glad that you are here, for I have not found it easy to deal with any of it. Two deaths in three years takes a heavy toll. But at least we are near done with mourning – for your brother died at the end of January, so but weeks remain in which we must wear mourning colours. Whilst I would honour my dead, I cannot but admit that I am heartily sick of black, and grey, and dark depressing colours. And your sister is long overdue for a Season – she is nearing twenty, and will soon start to be looked at as a spinster!”

  Sin looked at Faith – he could not imagine anything less spinster-like in appearance than his sister. She smiled at him, a mischievous smile that was still exactly as it had been when she was a child. Her voice was light and melodious when she spoke.

  “Mother! I do not think my circumstance quite so dire. But I will admit to looking forward to the Season, and to wearing colours again. Drummond, I am so glad that you are here – I have missed you terribly. You seem… so very… serious? Imposing? I am not sure – but far more grown up and important than you seemed before.”

  Sin laughed, shaking his head.

  “Seven years will change a person, as will privateering. You, my dear sister, have also grown up – rather a lot! You are, I must say, a beauty, and very different from the awkward child I said goodbye to. But… how have the ton treated you, given the manner of my brother’s death?”

  Both women frowned, and hesitated before speaking. That was all the confirmation that Sin needed.

  Bitter regret twisted through him – that his brother’s actions, be it the dishonour that Sin had shouldered for him, or the further dishonour that he had created in the manner of his death, should taint Faith’s chances for a good Season, for a good match. And now that he was the Earl, would that be made worse, simply because he was himself – a dishonoured man? His mother spoke, softly, slowly.

  “They are… less welcoming… shall we say, than they once were. But they have not turned aside from us entirely. I think that most are eager to see you return, if only to see what manner of man you are, and if the rumours of your adventures are true.”

  “Rumours?”

  “Yes, rumours. When various of His Majesty’s ships have come into port, there have been tales of the doings of many of the privateers, and your name has been mentioned. You have, by rumour, the type of dashing and dangerous reputation that makes foolish young women swoon.”

  Sin winced at his mother’s words. That was something he had never considered – he had hoped to be quietly almost anonymous. “Oh.” He could hear the shock in his own voice. “I expect that will complicate my life even further. I will just have to weather it.”

  His mother laughed.

  “It will, at least, make it easier for you to find a wife – for, now that you are the Earl, you will need an heir – soon.”

  He winced again – there it was, the conversation that he had dreaded.

  She went on, “But I will not press you on that matter so soon – there will be time enough, once mourning is done, and you have come to grips with the condition of our estates, and your new status.”

  “Thank you! I cannot say that the idea of finding a wife is appealing – I am sure that, in time…”

  His mother nodded, and Faith did not speak, but her lips twisted with amusement.

  The tea tray arrived, and Sin allowed the simple ritual of taking tea and biscuits to ground him back in this reality. Before he did anything else, he needed to arrange a suitable wardrobe for himself, and to make a chance to speak with his mother without Faith present, to discover the truth of the situation before he saw the family man of business. He would not speak yet of the funds that he had, of the fortune that he had amassed – he wanted to know how badly off they were, before he said anything of that at all.

  ~~~~~

  Sin had slept deeply, the bed the most luxurious he had rested in since he had left England, all those years before. But the morning brought nothing but a sense of the weight of all that he now had to deal with. He dressed slowly, realising that, if he was to look as he needed to for the ton to accept him, then the first thing that he required was a valet. Rapidly followed by new clothes.

  He went down to breakfast, his mind spinning with the list of things which he needed to do.

  The breakfast room was warm, the fire in the grate burning brightly, but the only person present was his mother – not even a footman or maid. He frowned, and his mother noticed it.

  “Faith is still abed – she would sleep half the day, given the chance! And…” she hesitated, flushing a little, as if embarrassed by what she was about to say, “we have few servants left – the cost, you know – so I am afraid that we serve ourselves at breakfast these days.”

  Sin nodded, unhappy to hear it, but not surprised.

  “Then I will fill myself a plate. Truth to tell, after more than six years as a privateer, I am more used to serving myself anyway.”

  “That may be. But… it should not have to be. I am sorry – your father was never the best of men, when it came to money, but he was not the worst. Your brother, however, had a talent for spending which far outran his ability to ensure that we had income.”

  “I cannot say that I am surprised, Mother. Tell me truly, how bad is it?”

  “I am not completely sure… I have tried to ascertain the depth of it, but Mr Wilton passed away not long after your brother, and we were left without a man of business for a time. A Mr Swithin took on Mr Wilton’s clients, and I have found him to be exemplary in his attention to detail. But he is still sorting it out – he has been most kind, but it seems that, in his later years, Mr Wilton’s… efficiency… suffered. You will need to consult with Mr Swithin. But there is debt, even after we sold off some furniture and paintings – thousands of pounds of debt – but not, I believe, tens of thousands.”

  Sin considered her words, taking the time to set food upon his plate, and coffee into a cup. Once he had settled at the table, the food before him, he spoke again.

  “Am I correct in my assumption that Faith is not aware of any depth of detail abou
t this?”

  “Yes. I could not bear to tell her how fragile our existence might become – I have been waiting for Mr Swithin to untangle the mess – I wanted to give her the truth of it, when I finally told her.”

  He nodded, his mouth full of food at that moment – food that he appreciated, after the simple and mostly unappetising fare that was the standard on a ship. Swallowing, he reached for the coffee. He would need to see this Mr Swithin today, but, before that, he could at least reassure his mother a little.

  “I believe that to be a sensible approach. I will see Mr Swithin today, if you will provide me with his direction. But there is something you must know – the situation is now nowhere near as dire. Because, in my years as a privateer, I have amassed a substantial sum – and, unlike many of the men I sailed with, I did not spend it on pointless indulgence. If the sum required to clear the debts my brother has left us is as you suggest, then I have more than enough to deal with that, and still have funds for some time to come, whilst we ensure that the estates are productive. Some I carry with me, in gems and the like, but much is held on account with my bankers.”

  His mother almost sagged in her seat, the relief evident on her face.

  “I had not dared to hope… I was afraid that we might not be able to afford to give Faith her Season…”

  “She shall have her Season. And we will employ more staff again. Furniture – well, that is up to you – what do we need, and what do you want?”

  “I… I don’t honestly know – it will take time for me to adjust to this – but Drummond, I am so glad… I wondered what sort of man you would be, with all that was in the past, and with your years on the sea… but it seems that my fears were unfounded.”

  Sin smiled at her, although his heart was filled, again, with the bitterness of how futile his own acceptance of dishonour had been, when his brother had wasted that sacrifice. He would, he knew, need to be exemplary in everything he did from now on, if he was to have any hope of restoring his own and his family’s honour in the eyes of the ton.

  “Thank you, Mother. I will try not to disappoint you.”

  The conversation lapsed as he ate, both of them deep in thought. As he finished his food, Faith appeared, still looking rather sleepy. He greeted her fondly, then took his leave, to set about the tasks of his day.

  Chapter Three

  Marion started awake, her heart pounding.

  The stillness of the room surrounded her, moonlit where the curtains had fallen a little open, empty of everything but her – and her memories, transformed into dreams – dreams which had felt so real.

  She shivered, even though the room was quite warm, the banked fire still giving off heat. The closer they came to the day when they would leave for London, the more frequent the dreams became. In those dreams, she relived the terrible days after Martin’s death – the days when that crowd of arrogant young men he had thought friends had pursued her. Young men who did not believe that he had married her, who thought her a fancy piece, and called her that and worse, even while they demanded that she grant them her favours.

  She had been terrified, lost, unable to convince them of the truth. In the end, she had run – had, from their point of view, simply disappeared. But soon, she would see them again, would need to face them, and be polite.

  For Daniel’s sake, she would try, but she was not at all sure that she could do so with equanimity. Part of her was quite certain that, when confronted with one of those men, all of the years in between would fall away, and she would become again, in an instant, that frightened girl.

  Sighing, she forced her mind to more happy thoughts, and snuggled deep in the covers. Sleep was slow to return.

  ~~~~~

  “You look just the ticket, my Lord.”

  Sin looked at Carlton, his new valet, and took in his words. He considered himself in the large mirror which stood in his dressing room. The stark black and white of his mourning clothes suited him, he thought. Wryly, he concluded that it also made him look all the more dark and brooding – piratical, in fact, in a rather stylish way. His mother was right – young women were like to swoon at the whole effect. Perhaps, once the next week or so was done, and mourning was no longer required, he would continue to dress in this manner anyway, because it was simple, had a certain elegance, and he liked the effect.

  “Thank you, Carlton. You are a deft hand with a cravat.”

  Carlton gave a slight bow, and turned back to tidying away the rest of Sin’s new wardrobe. Sin left the room, and descended to meet his mother and sister in the entrance hall. Outwardly, he presented an appearance of calm. Inwardly, he was quivering with anticipatory nerves – it was the same sensation that he had felt, just before the privateer had closed with a prize – the expectation of battle, and of personal risk.

  “Drummond! I must say, you look very dashing.”

  His mother’s words were warm with approval.

  “I give all credit to my tailor, and to my new valet. It appears that Carlton is talented with hair and cravats.”

  “Nonsense! No amount of good tailoring can disguise a poorly shaped man.”

  Faith’s voice rang with the utter conviction of a young woman sure of her own judgement. He almost laughed – so, she had begun to study the shape of men, had she?

  “Shall we go? The carriage is waiting, and Lady Templeton’s musicale will be beginning soon – we must not be too late through her door!”

  Lady Hungerwood’s words caused Sin to quiver anew with that sense of battle being imminent – he supposed that his first exposure to the ton since his arrival could be considered a battle of sorts. Taking a deep breath, he ignored that thought, and offered his mother his arm, to lead her out to the carriage.

  They passed quickly through the streets, their destination not too distant, and Sin could not help but watch the people and carriages around them as they went. His mind still half expected the raw new cities of the Americas, or the brightly coloured houses of the West Indies – London felt like a thing from his past, not his present. He would, he assumed, adapt in time, but for now, after years away, London was intriguing in its diversity.

  Lady Templeton’s residence was elegant – a tall townhouse with glittering light showing through every window, and a queue of carriages in the street, waiting their turn to let their passengers down at the door.

  When their turn came, Sin stepped down, turned to assist his mother and sister, then squared his shoulders and drew himself up. Now he would see. Would some of them give him the cut direct? Or would the fact that he now held the title be enough to ensure that they simply treated him with frosty disdain? The stairs seemed impossibly tall, and the queue of guests impossibly slow – he wanted this done with, wanted to know where he stood. For he knew, of a certainty, that beneath the veneer of politeness, the ton was a viper pit of gossip and secrets.

  Finally, they reached the top of the steps, moved through the door, and were greeted by their hostess. Lady Templeton welcomed him politely, if rather distantly, but her eyes upon him were curious, and he felt examined, as if he were some insect pinned to a board by a collector.

  “Lord Hungerwood. So good of you to come. I believe that you are only recently returned from the… Americas?”

  The slight hesitation made it quite clear that she well knew he’d been a privateer, and would soak up whatever tales he might tell – but was far too refined to ask. He barely prevented himself from sighing.

  “Indeed, that is the case, Lady Templeton, I have been six years in those parts, and the news of my father’s and brother’s deaths was long in reaching me. I am… adjusting… to going about in society again.”

  “Then this evening is an excellent opportunity for you to reacquaint yourself with everyone of… influence…”

  “Yes, my Lady, that is my intent – to renew my acquaintance with those who matter – like yourself.”

  Lady Templeton blushed slightly, obviously pleased by his words, and they moved on into the
main parlour, as she turned to greet the next guests.

  “That was well done, Drummond. Lady Templeton’s opinion carries weight.”

  His mother’s words were quiet, but reassuring – especially as a number of the people in the room had stilled, then ostentatiously turned away, when the footman at the door had announced them. But as many as there were who turned away, there were equally many who gazed at him with open curiosity – especially the young ladies present. It did, indeed, feel like being in a battle – the uncertainty of whether each person before him was friend or enemy, and the feeling that he might be set upon at any moment, left his senses pitched to high awareness.

  Faith made a little noise beside him, then linked her arm with his.

  “Come, Drummond, you must meet some friends of mine.”

  She led him across the room to where a cluster of young women stood, whispering behind fans, the pale pastel tones of their gowns making them seem like a bouquet of faded flowers. He went, steeling himself to face their reactions.

  “Lady Anne Sheldon, Lady Julia Westcott, Lady Margaret Thompson, Lady Phoebe Aldwood, may I present my brother, Lord Hungerwood.”

  Sin bowed to them, a little exaggeratedly.

  “I am delighted to meet you, ladies.”

  The fans fluttered, and they simpered at him.

  He could find no other word for it. Beside him, Faith stifled a giggle, damn her! One of the young women. Lady Phoebe, he thought, spoke, her voice soft and breathy.

  “My Lord, forgive me for asking, but I simply must know the truth of the matter. It has been said that you were a… privateer… is… is that true?”

  Sin was rather shocked at her forwardness in asking, but he supposed it was best to get this sort of the thing out of the way early – let the rumours be fed by his own words, not someone else’s lurid imaginings. The other young women fluttered their fans, watching him wide-eyed, waiting for his answer.