The Earl’s Dangerous Passion (Historical Regency Romance)

by Ella Edon

  "Grace! Come upstairs," commanded Aunt Betsey. "We have much to discuss and little time for it. The customers will be coming in soon. Boys! Come here!"

  Glancing at each other with wary expressions, John and Noah each took a cautious step forward as Aunt Betsey reached into her apron pocket. "There, now. There is a half-penny for each of you. Go and see what is here in the rest of the town. Buy yourselves some candy. Your sister will find you when it is time to return home."

  "Thank you, Aunt Betsey!"

  "Thank you!"

  Each of them made an awkward bow as they had been taught to do, and then threw the door open and dashed outside. The door fell shut behind them as the harness bells jingled wildly.

  "Oh, Aunt Betsey, there was no need for that," said Grace. "It was so generous of you to give them each a coin! I will pay you back, I promise – "

  "I won't hear of such things," Aunt Betsey said firmly. "They’re my nephews, after all."

  "Then I'll at least thank you for your kindness." She glanced out of the shop windows, and spotted her two brothers racing down the street. "I just – I just hope they don't become too accustomed to such a life. There will still be much hard work expected of them out here, and very little in the way of sweets and leisure."

  "If you are successful, Grace, there may be plenty of both for all of us," said Uncle Leonard. "Come upstairs, now, before our customers arrive, and we will plan our plans and scheme our schemes."

  Grace followed her aunt and uncle up the narrow wooden steps, very much hoping that he was right.

  * * *

  Once the girl in green and the two boys disappeared into the shop, Thomas began a slow walk along the boardwalk on the east side of the street. He had dropped a few pebbles into his left boot, so that he wouldn’t forget to limp on it, and reminded himself to stay a little bent as he walked. His voice, too, would be a little rough when he spoke, as though he was somewhat older.

  It was not as difficult as he'd thought to become someone else for a little while. Thomas simply thought of the many tradesmen and servants who had worked at the estate over the years and tried to give his best impression of the way they spoke, behaved, and even walked.

  It was actually rather exciting to see how long he could keep this up without being found out.

  He looked across the street again and remembered why he was doing this in the first place. He did know that the shop where the girl had gone inside belonged to Leonard Vane and his wife, and that they had been there for many years. Like most of the other merchants in Birdwell, they might recognize him – at least in passing – and so he had no intention of going in.

  Instead, he kept an eye on the door as he moved slowly along the boardwalk. It wasn't long before the two boys came bursting out of the shop again and ran down the street, exclaiming about the shops they wanted to see and the things they wanted to buy.

  Smiling, Thomas began to walk in the same direction as the boys. If he was lucky, he might hear them mention a word or two about the pretty young lady who had brought them into town this morning.

  He thought again of what a chance he was taking – and then something else occurred to him. Yes, he was doing this in an effort to uncover any possible deception on the part of any woman who might seem to feel affection for him. But wasn't he doing the same thing? Deliberately deceiving the women by pretending to be someone he was not?

  It was an interesting moral quandary, and he almost laughed as he moved down the walkway. He told himself that a little deception was worth the price of avoiding many years of living with a woman who cared nothing about him . . . and that if the woman he chose did not understand that, then he had better choose again.

  Thomas could only hope that he was right, for he knew he was about to be tested . . . both by shopkeepers he'd known for many years and by a pretty girl he had never met at all.

  Chapter Five

  Outfitted For Finding A Husband

  Grace stepped inside the small, close room where Uncle Leonard and Aunt Betsey lived, over the shop. For light, there were two small windows facing the street. For warmth, there was a little grate, sitting under a chimney, and nearby, a small supply of coal.

  Two very old and threadbare chairs sat before the grate. A little table with a lamp on it had been placed between the chairs. Quickly, Grace moved to the little footstool in front of one chair and sat down on it, leaving the chairs for her aunt and uncle. In the back of the room, there were a couple of narrow beds with an old and battered trunk at the foot of one of them.

  Compared to the richness of the shop downstairs, this was barren and old. It was the kind of room where a couple might live if they were near penniless, and not the sort of home for the owners of a successful fabric and dressmaker's shop.

  Uncle Leonard saw her looking around the room. "It costs a great deal to buy bolts of silk and velvet to sell," he explained, sitting down in his chair.

  "That is where most of our money is bound up: in the inventory for the shop," said Aunt Betsey, from her own chair.

  Grace nodded. "I see that now," she said. "And not only do you have this shop and your own lives to manage, you suddenly have an entire family hanging from your neck like a millstone and being a further burden on you."

  Her aunt and uncle sat in silence.

  "We are all very grateful to you," Grace whispered. "Please . . . tell me exactly what you want me to do."

  "Yes. It starts with the assembly ball in a fortnight," Uncle Leonard began, clearing his throat. "Now, your aunt has already presented you with two muslin gowns and a bonnet. A decent pair of half-boots, a pair of slippers, and some kid gloves will follow when we are able."

  Grace looked down, embarrassed by such generosity on her behalf.

  "But these are not simply gifts," Aunt Betsey warned. "We do this in an effort to help not only you and your family, but ourselves, too."

  "I understand," she said quietly. "But again, I’m entirely willing to find a position, work hard, and earn money. None of my family expects only charity."

  Uncle Leonard glanced at Aunt Betsey. "As we said to you yesterday, Miss Miller," he said, "you have a new assignment. Your 'work' is solely to make yourself into the most elegant young lady that you can. You are to be a respectable and very marriageable daughter of a tradesman, who helps her widowed mother care for her two younger brothers."

  "Yes," agreed Aunt Betsey. "Your responsibility now is to find the best man you can and make an excellent match. We will help you all we can, but much depends on you. And you will start with the assembly ball in less than two weeks."

  "The assembly ball," sighed Grace. "There were balls at Northcliff, but of course, I never expected to go. And anyway, that family was so clannish that they only invited a very few guests to their own parties. They loved the isolation of the mountains. Their whole estate was twenty miles from nowhere, as the saying goes. There was no town at all anywhere near it."

  "But that does not sound like an assembly ball," said Aunt Betsey, frowning. "Was it open to anyone who bought a ticket?"

  "Oh, no, no. They were not. There was hardly anyone living near enough to Northcliff to buy a ticket, even if they had had the money or the inclination to go to a ball."

  "Exactly. Those were simply private parties with guests attending by invitation only. But it is far different here in Birdwell," said Uncle Leonard. "We have a sizeable town that is growing all the time. And the estate of Worthington, up on the northern hill, is far larger than Northcliff ever thought of being."

  "Indeed it is," said Aunt Betsey. "And between Worthington and Birdwell, there are so many tradesman and farmers with marriageable daughters – and wives in want of amusement – that Mrs. Robbins worked with Lady Worthington to start up the subscription balls again."

  "So, if this is a subscription ball," said Grace, "then this is only the first of – how many?"

  "Three, I believe. Once each month, as near as possible to the full moon. Those who can afford the tickets wi
ll subscribe to all three, so as not to be shut out if the list should fill up."

  "Three," said Grace with a sigh. "If they are once a month, that will take into July!"

  "Let's hope you have found someone by then, Miss Miller," said Aunt Betsey.

  "Yes. Yes. All I can think of is how wonderful it is of both of you to try to find me a husband." Then Grace was struck by a new thought and looked up at the two of them. "Yet – suppose I do not?"

  Aunt Betsey's face suddenly wore a severe frown. "What are you talking about? What do you mean, 'suppose I do not?'"

  "Well – I mean – I just thought – " Flustered, Grace tried to gather her thoughts. "Perhaps no man will offer to marry me."

  "What?" said Aunt Betsey, apparently shocked. "What do you mean by that?"

  Grace spoke quickly. "I mean – if that should happen – couldn't I simply return to work? Perhaps even go to Worthington itself and seek a position there! Such places are always in need. And my mother is not yet past work. She and I could both – "

  "Grace!" Uncle Leonard said, very sternly. "I will hear no more about it. You cannot work any more than your mother can. That would ruin our plan of introducing you as the daughter of a tradesman. I will hear no more!"

  "Tell me," said Aunt Betsey, her narrowing. "Did you get a letter of reference when you left Northcliff?"

  "I – no. No, Aunt Betsey. I have no letter of reference."

  "Does your mother have one? Or your brothers?"

  Grace clenched her jaw, feeling like she’d been backed into a corner. "None of us has a letter of reference. The master at Northcliff refused to recommend any of us for employment, even though we all had good records of work there."

  "What you mean," said Uncle Leonard, "is that your father's drinking ruined both his own chances of gaining another position, and your family's chances, too."

  "It did. The drinking, and – " She stopped quickly.

  "And? And what? You may as well spill your secrets, girl. It's too late to hide anything now."

  "And because he stole some whiskey from the house." Her Uncle Leonard was right, Grace knew. They would find out anyway. And if they were footing the bill for all of her new clothes and for the cottage where her family lived, she at least owed them the truth.

  "I’m not a betting man. But if I were, I should say it happened more than once."

  "It did."

  "And," continued Aunt Betsey, "not only do none of you have letters of reference, your mother claims to be a widow, doesn't she?"

  "She does," whispered Grace, looking away.

  "She does," repeated Aunt Betsey, "because that’s less of an embarrassment than being the wife of a drunkard."

  Uncle Leonard sighed. "We don't mean to humiliate you, niece. We merely hope to make you understand how very serious your situation is. All four of you, right now, have no chance of finding other employment."

  "Or of making any sort of advantageous marriage," said Aunt Betsey severely. "A widow might remarry and find security, but your mother could not – for she is not really what she claims. And neither you, nor your brothers in the future, would be welcomed by marriage into a respectable family if it was known that your father was a drunkard and a thief, who was sacked and turned out of a very good position."

  Grace just nodded. It was all true and there was nothing she could say to refute it. She knew that her aunt and uncle were using every resource they had to help her and her mother and her brothers get out of the predicament they were in.

  Uncle Leonard smiled at her. "Thank you for your honesty, Grace. It’s painful sometimes, I know, but the reward is having the trust of others."

  She wanted to fully cooperate with them. What they said made practical sense when it came to helping the entire family. And there was nothing wrong with a young woman making a good marriage. Grace, too, had her dreams of a wedding day and a family of her own.

  Yet one question still nagged at her – one fear regarding getting married that had been growing over the last few years. Now, being confronted with the reality of her situation, it had come to the forefront of almost everything else.

  "What is it, Grace?" asked her sharp-eyed aunt.

  "Well – Aunt Betsey – you know that I am not a fortune hunter. Not by any means."

  "My dear, there is no shame in wanting a man who can provide well for you and your family. Do you see shame in a man wanting a wife who is young and beautiful and can give him children?"

  "I – I suppose not."

  "I should think not," Aunt Betsey stated. "There’s nothing wrong in either case. You are not a fortune hunter and no one would think so – no more than they do of any woman."

  "I know it is my duty to marry as well as I can and help us all. Yet – what would you say if – if I’m not sure I truly desire marriage at all?"

  The room was silent at that. Finally her aunt spoke. "Why would a girl of nineteen reject the idea of marriage?"

  Grace stood up and paced slowly across the small room. "Because I fear – I fear that I might –”

  "Yes?"

  "What is it, girl?"

  She turned to face them. "I fear that I might become like my mother. With a husband who starts out kind and good, but then later is lost to drink – and to ruin."

  Now it was her aunt and uncle who were at a loss for words. "My father didn’t start out with any sign that he would turn to the bottle," Grace said quietly. "But I suppose most men do not, until, one day, something happens and they start down a path from which there is no return."

  "And you’re afraid you might end up with a man who does the same." Aunt Betsey's voice was a little kinder now. "Do you know what it was that started your father down that path?"

  Grace shook her head. "I don't. I think my mother does, but she won’t speak of it. I think he asked her not to. But even if we did know, would it really matter? Would it help us now?"

  "I suppose not," admitted Aunt Betsey.

  "We can only tell you," said Uncle Leonard, "that no one can know what might happen in a week, or in a month, or in two years, or five years, or even a lifetime from now. You must simply make the best choice you can. If things do go wrong, you will find people to help you, just as we are helping you and your mother now."

  "That's right," said Aunt Betsey. "You must face the fact that none of you will find employment with any good house. You will find nothing respectable that pays anything at all. You, Grace, would only find yourself walking the streets of some waterfront town in search of men who might give you a few coins."

  Grace looked up in shock, but her aunt simply kept talking. "Your beauty is at its peak. You must take advantage of it now. With the work you had to do at Northcliff, and still have to do now, it will only fade more with every season."

  Her aunt was right. She really had but one course in front of her. "I’m in your hands," Grace said quietly. "What must I do?"

  Aunt Betsey took a deep breath – and for the first time that morning, she smiled. It seemed that she was at last feeling satisfied with the way the conversation was going. "The first thing we must do, Miss Grace, is get you to that assembly ball just thirteen nights from now."

  Grace could not help but smile back at her. "At least that will be fun!" she said brightly, trying to see the good side of all of this.

  "Hmmph," Aunt Betsey grunted. "Now, we have put aside some new muslin and a small length of silk ribbon for you, so that you will have a new gown to wear. Next week, I will go with you to Linnet's Leather Shop. You will be fitted for a pair of slippers that are only for the balls and fine parties. They are never to be worn in the street!"

  "Of course," Grace agreed, and again felt her heart sink at how she could never hope to repay the generosity being heaped upon her.

  "Now, the final thing you must have is a sponsor," said Uncle Leonard. "Someone who has paid for a subscription to the entire set of balls. Someone willing to invite you along and make introductions for you, once you’re there."

 
; "Oh," said Grace. "Even though everyone there simply purchased a ticket?"

  "Of course!" said Aunt Betsey. "That merely allows you entry. Once inside, the usual rules of etiquette and courtesy apply, just as they do at a private ball. And that is very well, for you want to be introduced to the finest men in attendance—Not to just anyone who had enough coins in his pocket to get in the door!"

  "No, no, of course not," said Grace faintly. "So – I suppose you will sponsor me, Aunt Betsey?"

  "I cannot. I’m not a subscriber. Money that would have gone to that has gone into gowns and slippers for you – and a subscription for you, too, of course."