The Sinful Secret 0f A Broken Earl (Historical Regency Romance)

by Lucinda Nelson

  That would be disastrous for the family. Georgette has taken her time to understand how most ladies of the ton have always managed to fall under the charm of her brother.

  Because for some time, she was beginning to think that perhaps, the ladies were just too stupid, or his brother was just good. Later, she came to realize he was a smart handsome devil.

  He had inherited the tallness from their father, but his attractive look and dark hair was gotten from their mother. The dark hair was they both shared.

  Georgette has also realized that he gave off a boyish charm which aided him when seducing women. Even though Georgette has always supported him when seducing women, the only reason was because she had always hoped that one of these ladies would be the one but so far, she was wrong.

  A knock sounded on the door, distracting Georgette from her exhaustion.

  “Oh! I think the servants are back,” said Gilbert, now fully dressed. “Do come on in, Peter.”

  The door opened and Peter came in. He was a young lad who had always accompanied his lord on several of what Georgette termed as “unholy escapades.”

  “Where are you going, Gilbert? I do hope you are not thinking of leaving the house?”

  Gilbert picked up his hat and went back to the mirror. “Sister, I cannot stay in this house all day, a man needs some time to himself.”

  “But we are having a conversation,” said Georgette, trying not to lose her temper. “Are you really going to leave me here?”

  Gilbert smiled and walked to his sister; he pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead.

  “This conversation is not new, sister. We have had this talk a billion times.”

  “You are going to corrupt another poor innocent girl, are you not?” asked Georgette.

  “Poor and innocent are not the words that I would use for those women of the ton, dearest sister. They are all gold diggers and I am only trying to teach them all a lesson.”

  “But not everyone is after your wealth or properties, Gilbert. How can you be so insecure? You need to fall in love with someone and settle down.”

  “And so do you, my darling sister. You also need to fall in love and settle down or might I remind you of your age?”

  **

  Lord Gilbert Rowland, the Earl of Harlenshire

  At this, Gilbert knew he had touched a nerve as Georgette pushed him away, turning her back towards him. “You know I was in love once.”

  He hadn’t meant to bring back past memories but that was the only way to get his sister from speaking about marriage any further. He sighed and faced Peter.

  “You may go; I shall be with you shortly.”

  The lad nodded with a bow before leaving. Then he faced his sister.

  “I do apologize for saying that.”

  “You do not have to apologize, Gilbert,” replied his sister who was now turning around to face him. “We had both fallen in love with the wrong people in the past and we need to move on. You do not have to worry about me as you are the man of the house. You are the Earl and you have to pass the title to your children when you are dead. This is my utmost concern.”

  “I am still far too young, sister. I have enough time in my hands to get married. Besides, all these women are only after one thing as we both know.”

  “Who was the lady I just saw some minutes ago?” asked Georgette.

  “Oh, she is a nobody. I do not remember her name.”

  “So what about Miss. Ots? You swore to me that you were going to propose to her? What became of her?”

  “Well, sister, I had to break her heart as she turned out to be just like every other women out there.”

  His sister sighed. “You keep breaking women’s hearts, brother. One day women will grow wiser and then you will have no one left to marry because by then, I daresay you would have gained enough reputation.”

  Gilbert sighed and took her hand in his. “Spare yourself of any headache beautiful sister, marriage will come in due time. As for now, I am on my way to the city.

  The day is still too young for you to start subjecting yourself to a needless worry. You are far too young to get a gray hair on your head,” he said, kissed her hands and then left the chamber.

  **

  While he entered into his carriage, the only thing in his mind was to go to the famous gambling hell where he mostly had all the drinks he needed to enjoy his day.

  Afterwards, he planned to enjoy some games and probably get another woman to fall under his charm. He smiled as he remembered what his sister had said.

  “They are all the same, sister. Not a single one is different,” he said to himself as he was being driven away.

  This Book will be Live Soon!

  His Devilish Grace-A Preview

  Chapter 1

  Miss Teresa Wolcott

  “Oh, my. The Devil Duke is at it again.”

  The morning sunlight glimmered through the windows as the two women sat in the reading room, sipping their tea and reading.

  Teresa Wolcott avidly read the most recent news of the war in France, and barely registered what her sister-in-law just said. “What, dear?”

  Amelia laughed over the top of the scandal sheets she currently perused. “It says here that His Devilish Grace was the last person to see the Baroness Elize Beaulieu alive. Rumors have it that he was her lover and that he pushed her down the stairs when he wanted to break off the affair and she did not.”

  Teresa eyed Amelia sardonically. “Why are you so fascinated with rumors of scandal? If he truly murdered a woman, then he should face justice in the courts, not people’s opinion.”

  “Are you that naïve, Teresa? Dukes don’t go to prison, they are not tried in courts. When one has a high title and wealth, one can do pretty much as one pleases.”

  “Even murder?”

  “Of course. Unless there is an eyewitness, someone who has a higher title, Thornehill will never face justice.”

  Teresa shook her head. “In truth, that man is in and out of the scandal sheets so often I hardly believe he is truly the monster the sheets say he is.”

  “How can you say that? You can’t have smoke without a fire, and where that man is concerned, he is burning London society down to the ground.”

  At last setting her newspaper down, Teresa stared out the window. “I met him once,” she said quietly.

  “And you survived the scandal?” Amelia tittered. “How extraordinary.”

  “It was last year, at the market,” Teresa went on, smiling. “A boy of about ten years of age was accused of stealing. There was nothing found on his person, but the shopkeeper was going to whip him anyway. I was right there, arguing with the foolish man and demanding he let the boy go. He refused until Thornehill stepped in.”

  “What did he do?’ Amelia’s eyes had gone round.

  “He ordered the shop owner to release the child, then paid him thrice the value of what had allegedly been stolen, gave the boy some coins and kissed my hand.”

  “No!”

  “Oh, yes.” Teresa’s smile widened into a mischievous grin. “He is most devilishly handsome, Amelia. A brooding, sinister look about him, but when he looked into my eyes, I saw nothing but kindness in his.”

  “One act of charity cannot erase years of his terrible deeds, Teresa.”

  “He thanked me for standing up for the boy,” Teresa went on as though Amelia hadn’t spoken. “It was not just a single act, I have also heard rumors of other kind deeds he has performed amid the poorer classes around London.”

  “And you believe them?”

  Teresa scowled. “Just as you are so quick to believe the terrible deeds he has supposed to have committed. I think the world would be a much better place if people ceased talking about one another.”

  Amelia chuckled over the rim of her teacup. “Then where would we get our entertainment?”

  “How about from books of fiction, of walking in the parks, of performing acts of charity, of simply loving one another.”
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  “Your outspoken views will get you into the scandal sheets yourself, my dear,” Amelia commented dryly, picking up her paper again.

  “You know I don’t care about that,” Teresa replied with a snort. “If people practiced more charity and forgiveness, those bloody sheets you read would not exist.”

  Amelia stared at her, shocked. “You cursed.”

  “So I did. Are you going to write that into one of your precious scandals and spread them around town?”

  “I just might.”

  Teresa gazed out the window again, thoughtfully combing her fingers through her long dark locks, recalling that she was already often talked about because she refused to wear her hair up as a proper woman should, and never refrained from speaking her opinions. “Why can’t people just mind their own business?” she asked.

  “It’s against human nature,” Amelia replied absently. “The Baron and Baroness of Whittaker are hosting a ball Friday evening. You should go, Teresa. An invitation arrived in this morning’s post.”

  A quiver of unease etched through Teresa’s nerves. “You know I don’t function well in crowds.”

  Amelia set her scandal sheet down and picked up her tea to sip. “I know, sweetheart. I also know you cannot find a husband by lurking in this house day in and day out.”

  “Father left me enough money to live on for the rest of my life,” Teresa replied hotly. “I don’t need a husband.”

  “Perhaps not to support you,” Amelia agreed, “but surely you don’t want to be a spinster all your life.”

  “I already am. I’m three and twenty, too old for marriage.”

  “Nonsense. I know you don’t want to live here with me and Thomas all your life, and please do not think I am trying to rush you out. You know we are trying to have children. In fact, I think I am already with child.”

  “Truly?” Teresa smiled broadly. “That’s wonderful.”

  Amelia nodded. “I hope I am.”

  . “I know my presence here is putting pressure on you both,” Teresa added. “Believe me, if the opportunity to marry the kind of man I can love were to present itself, I will marry. I just – get anxious at those parties.”

  “As long as you keep your opinions to yourself,” Amelia commented, “you can easily attract a man. Teresa, you are so beautiful. Look at you, your big blue eyes and a figure any woman in London would kill for. I have seen the way men look at you. But no one wants to marry a bluestocking.”

  Blushing, Teresa chuckled. “Yes, well, I can’t seem to help myself. When I have an opinion, I air it.”

  “If you perhaps put a rein on your impulses until after you’re married,” Amelia said with a grin, “then you can turn your tongue on your husband.”

  Laughing, Teresa picked up her tea. “The poor fellow. He’d be in for a surprise.”

  “So will you attend the ball at the Whittaker’s?”

  “Yes, I suppose so. I’ll try the new medicine the doctor gave me. Perhaps that will help the anxiety this time.”

  “He will be here soon to examine me,” Amelia replied with an approving smile. “Perhaps he can talk to you as well.”

  “Actually, he is here.”

  Teresa and Amelia glanced up to see Thomas framed in the doorway. He grinned at the two of them, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I heard you talking about the upcoming ball. I’m glad you agreed to go, little sister.”

  Teresa ducked her head. “Yes, I suppose it is past time to husband hunt. I may get lucky enough to find a husband at my advanced age.”

  “Of course you will. I do want to see you married, Teresa. You are still young and quite beautiful.”

  “They say that if a woman is over eighteen,” Teresa said, gazing down at her hands. “Her chances of ever marrying are slim.”

  “Let us see first,” Thomas replied. “Amelia, he is waiting to see you.”

  Rising, Amelia paused beside Theresa’s chair, smiling down at her. “We have room enough for you, sweetheart, even if we have children. Please do not fret.”

  Watching the two of them leave, Teresa felt both her guilt and anxiety over the thought of attending the ball rise. “Can I ever overcome this anxiety of being in a crowded room in order to meet the right man?”

  Restless, she stood up to pace to the tall window on the other side of the room that faced the London street outside.

  Carriages and wagons rolled past in the wide avenue below as pedestrians strolled along the sidewalks. Not far away, the tall trees of Regent’s Park rose over the tops of the townhouses that lined the thoroughfare. “Is my husband out there somewhere?” she mused.

  An hour later, Teresa sat in a chair in the drawing room as the doctor examined her, Amelia sitting nearby as a chaperone. Even as the small man asked her questions about her diet, her anxiety levels, her breathing, Teresa had no need to inquire as to Amelia’s state of health. Gazing past the physician’s shoulder, she observed Amelia’s happy smile.

  Even as the man listened to her breathing and her heart, Teresa felt an attack coming on.

  Her throat tightened until she felt she might suffocate, her palms grew damp and her pulse pounded in her head. The doctor frowned.

  “You seem to be having an attack now,” he said, his fingers on her wrist to gauge her heart rate.

  Teresa nodded, unable to speak past the tension in her throat. She struggled to breathe, drawing in only small amounts of air. Spots danced behind her eyes and she closed them, concentrating on the simple act of drawing in one breath after the other. At long last, the tightness in her throat relaxed a fraction.

  “I believe you only had these when you were surrounded by people, Miss Wolcott,” he said, sitting back and watching her closely. “What brought this on?”

  With a faint flutter of her fingers toward Amelia, Teresa tried to smile. “She is with child, is she not?” she whispered. “I’m going to be an aunt.”

  “That news should not alarm you.”

  Teresa shook her head slightly. “But now I have to attend parties and balls until I can find a husband.”

  “Teresa, no,” Amelia said, leaving her chair to crouch beside Amelia’s. “Do not put such pressure on yourself. Yes, I am with child, and I want you to be happy, not filled with dread that you must move out. Thomas and I love you.”

  “I know you do. But I cannot be such a burden on the pair of you. Not now. Not ever.”

  “You are not, and never will be, a burden.”

  “I am. And I will attend this ball if it kills me.”

  Chapter 2

  Solomon Eli Dunn, the Duke of Thornehill

  He stood with his back to the wall, watching the dancers circulate on the floor in time to the music. The vast ball room, under the vaulted roof belonging to the Baron and Baroness of Whittaker, held hundreds of guests this night, and it seemed that the only topic of conversation among them was himself.

  Solomon Dunn, the Duke of Thornehill, smiled inwardly, yet he let nothing of his amusement show in his countenance.

  He stood alone because no one at the ball wanted to be seen talking to him.

  He only received an invitation because of his very high status among the ton. He only accepted the invitation because he desperately needed to talk to the one man who would rather shoot him on sight before speaking a word to him.

  Solomon watched Thomas Wolcott and his wife dance on the floor, their eyes only for one another in the avid way only newlyweds could gaze at each other. Snorting softly at the sight, he wondered how long before their wedded bliss dissolved into dislike and bitter arguments. “There is no such thing as love,” he muttered. “Only making love.”

  “Your Grace?”

  Startled out of his thoughts, he found a liveried footman at his elbow with a silver tray filled with glasses of wine.

  Setting his nearly empty glass on it, he picked up another, and nodded his thanks.

  The footman bowed and moved on, offering the drinks to the Earl of Mowbray and his small circle of
cronies.

  Seeing the Earl’s contemptuous eyes on him, Solomon lifted his glass toward him as though toasting him, then sipped from it.

  “Bloody moron,” he grumbled under his breath. “I know you blackmailed your father-in-law into selling you his lands, yet you dare stare at me with judgmental eyes. Casting the first stone, are you?”