My Charming Earl

by Regina James

  MY CHARMING EARL

  Copyright © 2019 Regina James All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Chapter One

  England, 1817

  Caramel leaves tumbled to life by brisk autumnal notes that roused them from slumber, requesting a last wistful dance before a wintry embrace would claim them.

  Autumn's hand was lying heavy on the hillsides. Bracken was yellowing, heather passing from bloom, and the clumps of wild-wood taking the soft russet and purple of decline. Faint odours of wood smoke seemed to flit over the moor, and the sharp lines of the hill fastnesses were drawn as with a graving-tool against the sky.

  The lake mirrored the sky above. Sophia closed her eyes. The breeze that ran unchecked over the rippled surface blew her long bangs from her eyes and brought colour to her usually pale cheeks.

  Without the distraction of the view she could detect the scent. The moist air was fragranced with the pine trees that circled the lake, growing so close that some had toppled in and others dangles cobra-thick roots into the water.

  The sunset threatening to dip behind the horizon, firstly cascading a prim bombardment of colours that were flung over the sky with terrible alacrity. The receding blue and oranges battled the blackness pushing it away with arms. It shone on the lake below shining its deep depths. The radiant glow scintillated and beamed.

  The view was wondrous to behold, for the lake teemed with life. To the chorus of birdsong from the surrounding green bushes, and the sound of carp sucking amongst the flowering lily-pads, mother duck, watchful for the predatory pike, scooped the surface for food, with her young trailing behind like a row of bobbing corks.

  Dab chicks and coots fed in the safe haven of the reed-beds, whilst flashing green and blue dragonflies hovered above. A deep sense of serenity overcame her as she stared in rapture at the expanse of blue that lay before her.

  The autumn breeze tousled Sophia's hair and pinked her cheeks. The warmth that had been in the wind just last week had either evaporated into the sky or leached into the earth. It gave life to the long grass at the side of the road, still yellowing from the high August sun.

  Red, orange and yellow, in various different shades. All of them floating gracefully on the soft breeze. It was as if a friendly hand was gently lowering them to the ground.

  Whispers between these leaves filled the air, whispers and mutters. The air was cool and crisp, like a refreshing drink of cool water after hours in a desert. The breeze fluttered around, gently caressing everything it touched with fingers that had been a comfort to so many over their long, lonely years.

  The tree was ablaze, or at least appeared to be. Leaves of brilliant yellow, bright orange and subtle red tainted slightly by the brown crispness of late autumn.

  The leaves swaying gently dancing in the breeze as they took the last steps of there lives to their bitter but inevitable death. The breeze lifting and spinning the leaves allowing them to gracefully tumble and float.

  Before they finally end their dance finishing heaped upon the ground leaving the tree exposed to the cold harshness winter promises.

  A single golden leaf pirouetted down an invisible spiral of breeze, spinning through the air as it let itself be carried down. It shook slightly, as if it could have been whisked away any second by the grip of an icy wind, but it kept floating down the twirling course.

  It blew past her face and landed lightly on the ground, the shiny, vibrant colour standing out against the ambers and bronzes beneath it. It was so delicate, she wanted to reach down and pick it up and hold it close to her heart, smoothing out any creases, but something told her that it belonged there, this corpse of what was once summer.

  As the leaf made its final journey to the earth it fell in a graceful tumbling motion, seeking the least resistance from the autumnal air. Already dead, yet its color and its dance were so alive. Its descent was utterly silent until it joined its brethren below, and even then the noise was barely audible. Then a new leaf is plucked by unseen hands from the boughs above and takes over the stage as if choreographed.

  Sophia Astor was of pale complexion, long wisps of umber streaked with highlights of ginger that always seemed to gleam when they captured the light just right.

  Her hair was a lovely whisky, the color of fallen leaves browned and sleek with the first rain of autumn. How such a tint could play with the light, like peering at the sun through a jar of pine honey.

  She had the kindest pair of coffee brown eyes trimmed by long gorgeous lashes. Eyes the colour of rich soil flecked with black, eyes the colour of dark chocolate with flecks of hazel nut, sable eyes, the colour of hot chocolate, the deep brown of the winter trees at twilight, the lightened brown of parched summer soil, glossy chestnut brown, the colour of unvarnished oak with deep mahogany flecks, the colour of apple pips, mottled like varnished cork, the colour of a dessert palm tree with flecks of acorn shell. Lovely eyes, yet somehow gentle, that always held a tiny warmth within them.

  Florid cheeks and flawlessly sculpted lips, as if crafted by angels themselves. All these features set together on a delicate almost, angelic face.

  Sophia was unlike the other women. She wanted to be independent. She had thoughts and ideas of her own and she wanted to make them heard. She was going to choose her own husband one day.

  Sophia began to cry. How could she possibly be happy when her love was taken from her?

  She remembered that day when Henry, her fiancé, had arrived. There was a gathering at the house for a hunt and she rode out on her horse with Henry by her side. All she thought that day was how in another few weeks, they would be married. Life was perfect that morning.

  Wind whipping through his hair, Sophia leaned forward, urging his horse to greater speed.

  “Henry!”

  Her voice travelled over the distance and the thundering of their horses’ hooves as though she was right beside him.

  “Will you forfeit?”

  “Never!”

  A sparkle came to Sophia’s eyes as her lips curved upward.

  “I shall be lenient if you surrender now.”

  “Never!” Henry repeated, pulling his stallion around another thickly growing monster barring his path.

  Sophia’s delightful laughter, like a brook babbling in the early morning air, reached his ears, almost making him reconsider. As much as he loved her, he had never granted her an easy victory.

  So he urged his horse on and soon pulled up alongside her. Seeing him next to her, she too spurred her horse onward.

  “Dear Henry, for sure you will not make me lose face.”

  He laughed. “It is only us. And I swear I will not breathe a word should you lose this once, Sophia.”

  Biting her lower lip, she leaned forward as the wind whipped through her hair and caught in her long skirts.

  “Sophia Astor does not lose!” Her eyes twinkled as she glanced at him. “Never! Not even once!”

  Although he knew how furious she would be with him if he allowed her to gain ground, his heart just wasn’t set on winning this race, but on seeing her win instead.

  As the distance between them grew once more, Sophia called to him over her shoulder. “Do not disappoint me, Henry. Have you no honour?”

  Her playful insult burned in his heart, and he once again urged his horse on. The path soon levelled out, leaving behind bordering trees and opening up to green pastures, glowing in the early sun.

  Henry felt his horse’s flanks move as he pursued her. Soon, she was almost with
in his reach, and he playfully swatted her horse’s behind.

  Laughing, Sophia looked at him. “Not bad, dear Henry! But will it be enough?”

  As they flew across a sea of grass, swaying softly in the breeze, Henry’s gaze softened, seeing her slender figure clinging to her mare’s back, moulded together as though one. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned to look at him.

  For a moment, a long moment, they flew onward, side by side, eyes fixed on the other. A perfect moment. A moment that would stay with her until the end of her days. A moment that she would curse all the same. A moment so dear that it hurt to think of it. A moment she would see in her dreams. Again and again, hoping for a different outcome.

  As they dashed across the fields, Sophia was laughing as she was ahead of Henry. She jumped over a difficult hedgerow that was decidedly deceptive in its width. She turned around to smile at her beloved only to see him flung from his horse who hadn't taken kindly to the jump.

  She jumped off her horse and ran towards Henry, but she knew by the way his neck was twisted and his eyes wide open that he was severely injured. It all happened in slow motion.

  Others gathered around him, and Sophia made her way through. She remembered calling his name as though willing him to jump up and come back to her. But he was dead.

  She cried for Henry but also for the loss of the life she was going to have. Sophia was lucky that she had loved him. She hadn't wanted to marry just for life security. She was a romantic at heart.

  She knew her parents wanted her to get past her sadness, but how could she ever love again? She couldn't open her heart to that kind of heartbreak again. The mourning period was over, and it was time for Sophia to return to normal. She reckoned it was probably easier if there was no love between people. Time hadn't healed anything for her.

  Chapter Two

  Sophia sighed happily to herself and settled back a little more against the cushions of the window seat in the library. Looking out of the window at the beautiful gardens below for a brief moment, she let her mind drift to thoughts about life and love, picturing herself as the heroine in the book she held in her hands.

  Her parents would be horrified if they knew she was reading such a book, considering these novels to be entirely unhelpful to a young woman of quality.

  Sophia could not agree. The books opened up a world far beyond the trappings of society, where one could find someone of worth who sought love over expectation. They told her that matrimony could happen between two individuals who held a deep and long-lasting love for each other.

  It was certainly not what she saw in her own parents’ marriage. There might be affection of sorts, but nothing akin to love existed between them.

  Her father, Lord Astor, held a great deal of power within society. For whatever reason, he had a shrewd mind and could accomplish wonders within his business dealings, which garnered him a great deal of respect from the gentlemen within his acquaintance.

  Sophia’s mother had the ability to look down her nose at almost anyone, even those above her own title, to the point that a great many ladies sought her favor.

  Sighing to herself, Sophia picked up her book from her lap and snuggled back against the cushions, propping the novel up on her knees. Here, hidden away in the window seat, she was able to enjoy her love of prose without anyone interrupting her.

  Her parents had, on many occasions, sought her out, though they had never been able to find her hidden amongst the curtains in the library. Thankfully the housekeeper had something of a soft spot for Sophia, and so never once told her parents where she might be, even if she was fully aware of it.

  “This cannot go on much longer, Richard!”

  Her mother’s shrill voice reached Sophia’s ears, making her jump with surprise. Slowly closing the book, she wondered whether to pull open the curtains and announce her presence, but then her parents would know one of her favorite hiding places and all would be undone.

  Instead, Sophia remained entirely still, thinking that she might stop up her ears with her fingers. She did not want to eavesdrop, did not want to hear her parents’ private business, which was not hers to know.

  “Whatever shall we do with her, Richard? Did you see her at the ball last evening?”

  Sophia swallowed, nerves beginning to flurry through her stomach. They were discussing her.

  “She is becoming wild!” her mother screeched as Sophia heard her father slam the door with his usual lack of consideration.

  “Did she not dance at all?” her father asked, his voice grave. “I can scarcely believe that. Sophia is one of the most beautiful and most eligible young women at such events.”

  “She did dance some,” her mother replied slowly. “But her beauty and eligibility mean nothing, Richard, not when she is so lacking in other ways.”

  Sophia’s grip tightened on her book, her fingers growing white as she forced her anger back under control. She needed a husband with whom she could talk, a husband who enjoyed spending time in her company instead of simply expecting her to turn up to societal events with him.

  Love? She smiled softly, her parents’ voices fading into the background. Perhaps love, and if not love, then certainly affection, for she was sure that affection could, and would, grow to love.

  Sophia was determined not to ever allow herself to marry someone who had utterly no regard for her, nor she for him. That kind of marriage would only turn out to be similar to the bond her parents had, a bond that was brittle and liable to snap at any moment.

  “I do have a friend that would be a fine match for Sophia,” her father said slowly, his voice suddenly capturing her attention again. “I know he is keen to wed once more, but no one has caught his eye as yet.”

  Her mother snorted. “And you really think Sophia might be the one to do so?”

  “As it happens, the gentleman is interested in some kind of partnership with me.”

  Sophia gripped her book tighter and tighter as the seconds ticked on. Surely he was not about to suggest that she be pushed into another man’s arms as some kind of business agreement.

  “Then you think Sophia might wed him, and secure your partnership?” her mother asked quietly. “Who is this man? That does not make sense, Richard.”

  “Of course it does,” her father blustered, sounding both irritated and angry that his wife had questioned him. “Have you not just finished telling me that Sophia is struggling to find a suitor? The Duke of Langley is quite desperate to be in partnership with me, I believe, and will do exactly as I ask, I am sure of it. He will take Sophia off our hands, make her more than respectable, and my holdings will be more than secure with his additional funding. What issues can you foresee, my dear?”

  There was silence as Sophia held back her shriek of refusal and despair. She clenched her fists and pressed one to her mouth; tears began to roll unchecked down her cheeks.

  Clapping her hands together, her mother let out a squeal of glee. “Wonderful!”

  “I shall speak to the Duke as soon as possible,” her father finished, his footsteps carrying him across the floor.

  Sophia kept silent until the sounds of their footsteps died away, leaving her entirely alone once more. Putting her head in her hands, she allowed the pain and hurt she felt bubble to the surface as fresh tears began to fall.

  Her parents had, unwittingly, alerted her to their intentions, but she had never expected them to be so cruel. Was she really so much of a burden that they would push her onto the Duke of Langley, a man almost the same age as her father?

  No. Sophia dried her eyes and lifted her chin, staring out of the window. She would not allow this to happen. Now that she knew exactly what her parents intended, she would have time to try and find a way out.

  Chapter Three

  Darkened gray smudges of wool threateningly surrounded the sky; like a predator would encircle its prey. A startling low rumble rang loud in the cool fall air, the sky roaring with satisfaction.

  The freezing fog
wrapped around Sophia like a blanket. She held out her hand in front of her and watched it become partially obscured. She imagined herself chanting spells, conjuring the mist like a deranged witch drunk on her own powers, cackling, eyes twinkling.

  It began sprinkling. Little droplets of water drenched her hair, skin, and dress. The water droplets began growing larger and falling frequently. The light ‘pitter patter’ of rain turned into wet thuds as the icy water raced to meet the ground.

  The sprinkling turned into a torrential downpour. The coldness seeped through her gauzy gown and chilled her skin. Batsheba’s hooves were sloshing through the thick, slushy mud.

  The clouds grew darker and darker. A flash of lightning spooked the horse. Sophia held Batsheba’s neck firmly and whispered words of comfort. The bone-chilling cold seemed unbearable in the howling wind and icy rain. The sound of thunder rolled through the area as another lightning bolt split the sky.

  The back wheels of the carriage slid deeper into the mud. The river was out of its banks, and many of the houses of the nearby village were flooded.

  Sophia had taken the carriage with the sole intention of offering aid and assistance to the villagers. She brought them baskets of food and provisions, but now, she was desperately in need of help herself.

  It was not customary for a lady in her position to be driving a carriage on a public road, but it was for a worthy cause. Her parents would never have allowed her to go without a suitable chaperone. Sophia and her horse were going to die because she had snuck out on a mission of mercy and compassion.

  The dapple mare, Batsheba, panicked and was unable to free herself from the mud. Sophia tried not to join the horse in fear, but it was becoming very clear that their situation was dire. Unless something was done, she and Batsheba would be washed away in the raging water.

  She tried to calm Batsheba down by talking to her, but the mare was too anxious. Sophia knew the only way she was going to save her horse and herself was to free Batsheba from the carriage and try to coax her up the embankment. She was not sure she had the strength or the ability to do that.