A Seductive Lady For The Scarred Earl (Steamy Regency Romance)

by Olivia Bennet

  * * *

  Harry spent the entire dinner shooting puzzled glances at Dorothea. She had seemed so different when he met her in the street. It was as if she was a different person. Harry could not find the sense in it.

  “Do you enjoy walking, Lady Cornhill?” he asked, studying her intently.

  “Well…it depends on the company,” she preened at him, blushing becomingly. He could see how contrived it all was.

  “Would you care to walk with me in the morning?” he persisted.

  Her eyes showed surprise, delight, but nothing else. “I would love that.”

  He nodded jerkily. “I look forward to it.” He had to be sure. He did not even know why he was so concerned about her bizarre behavior. It was nothing to do with him if she liked to pretend to be a maid at an orphanage. If asked what his greatest weakness was, Harry would readily admit that it was his curiosity.

  Once he became interested in a question, he was like a dog with a bone, just gnawing at it until he got to the marrow. It was his nature. Once he had the answer to this riddle, he could let it go. For now, he could see the happiness in Dorothea’s face, and that of her mother. He knew what they were thinking. That he had asked for the walk in order to make an offer.

  Who wouldn’t think that?

  It was the logical thing to think. But even knowing that, he could not let it go.

  After dinner, there was brandy and cigars in the library with the Earl while Dorothea and her mother retired to the music room. He and the Earl smoked in silence for a while.

  “Are you sure about this?” Cornhill asked.

  Harry lifted an eyebrow. “What is it I’m supposed to be sure of?”

  “Walking out with my daughter.”

  Harry shook his head. “I merely wish to get to know your daughter better…to see if we are truly a good match. I have made no decisions to be sure of.”

  Cornhill blew smoke into the air. “I see.” He did not sound pleased.

  “I can withdraw my suit if—” Harry offered.

  “No, no. My daughter is interested in you. She wants this, and so I want it for her.”

  “Duly noted,” Harry said as noncommittally as he could.

  The Earl simply looked at him, as if waiting for something; a confirmation that Harry would make an offer for his child. All Harry could do was look at him.

  “I can withdraw my invitation for that walk if it does not suit you,” Harry said. There were other ways he could find out the truth, after all.

  “No. By all means…feel free to court her.”

  Harry nodded. “Thank you, My Lord.”

  “Well…” The Earl got to his feet, “Shall we join the ladies?”

  Harry stood up as well. “Yes. Let us do that.”

  They walked in silence to the music room where the ladies welcomed them with warm smiles and hot toddies.

  “Won’t you play for us, Dorothea?” Lady Cornhill asked.

  “Of course.” Lady Dorothea smoothed down her gown as she got to her feet and then sashayed to the piano, casting occasional glances at Harry to be sure he was watching her. Harry bit back a smile.

  Dorothea’s singing voice was quite good and Harry sat back to listen, putting an attentive expression on his face as he studied her features. The luxuriant mop of tawny hair was piled elegantly upon her head, with wispy tendrils framing her face.

  She played with minimal skill but maximum flair. Harry was bored out of his mind. Whatever energy she exuded, it was very different from the girl he had met on the street in London.

  Could there be two of them?

  The thought was intriguing if only because it implied a secret in the past that might do with exposing. He also very much wanted to meet the other Lady Dorothea, just for comparison purposes. He felt as if he was elevating her memory in his mind—in comparison with this other iteration of her.

  He made sure to leave as quickly as he could. He had a lot to think about.

  As soon as he stepped back in his townhouse, retiring to his chambers at once, Michel was there to take his coat. “Did you have a nice dinner, Your Grace?” he asked, as he relieved him of his hat and cane as well.

  “It was…satisfactory.”

  “Indeed, Your Grace.” He followed Harry as the Duke made his way to his bedchamber.

  “Michel? May I ask you something?” Harry asked as Michel laid out his bedclothes.

  “Of course.”

  “Well…the thing is that I…met a young lady.”

  “Indeed, Your Grace?”

  “Yes. She was the spitting image of Lady Dorothea Harrington except that she claimed to be a maid in an orphanage in London.”

  Michel actually stopped what he was doing in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

  Harry huffed a laugh. “Yes, I know, it sounds bizarre. However, with the evidence I have, it is the only conclusion I can come to.”

  Michel dropped the Duke’s bedclothes and came up to him with wide eyes. “Tell me everything.”

  Harry indulged him, telling him everything that had happened since he’d met Lady Dorothea Harrington and her doppelgänger.

  “Did you find out from your coachman if she did indeed go to this orphanage? Did they know her there?”

  Harry lifted his head, eyes brightening. “You have a point. I did not ask Richard that.”

  Michel went to the door, opened it and spoke to the footman waiting outside. He closed the door behind him and returned to Harry’s side. “I have summoned him.”

  Harry nodded and they waited in silence as Michel brought a steaming pitcher of water and a washbasin so that he could wash up. They were just finishing when the coachman arrived.

  “Richard. I have some questions for you regarding the little assignment I had you undertake the other day.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “I want to know exactly what happened when you followed the girl. Where did she go and how did she enter, did she speak to anyone? I want every detail you can remember.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” The coachman launched into an account of every detail of his surveillance. According to him, the people at the Daughters of St. Francis orphanage were familiar with the girl and treated her very much like one of them.

  “So it is unlikely she’s the daughter of an Earl masquerading as a maid?” Harry asked.

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Thank you, Richard, you may leave.”

  They watched the coachman walk out of the chamber and then Michel turned to the Duke. “Did you not put in an offer for a winery that was part of an orphanage recently?”

  Harry nodded slowly.

  “What a coincidence.”

  “Indeed.”

  * * *

  “The Mother Superior has called for a meetin’,” Mrs. Daniels announced to the kitchens at large.

  There was a short silence.

  “What is happening?” Clifton, the messenger boy asked.

  “If’n we knew, I expect there would be no need for a meetin’, now would there?” Mrs. Daniels snorted derisively.

  There was an outbreak of murmuring before the kitchen slowly started emptying as everybody made their way to the meeting hall. Mother Superior was standing on the dais, waiting for the room to quiet down.

  “Thank you all for coming today. I have some news.”

  The murmuring in the hall grew.

  “We have finally found a buyer for the orphanage. They will be taking over by month’s end. So I suggest you all get packing your belongings.”

  A hand shot into the air and Adelia was not surprised that it was Mary Sue’s. She was one of the older orphans and always full of questions. “Where shall we be going, ma’am?” she asked.

  Mother Superior’s chin rose and her nostrils flared as she drew in a deep breath. “You shall be distributed among orphanages in the country that have agreed to take you in.”

  Mary Sue’s hand was back in the air even before the Mother Superior had finished speaking. “You
shall be separating us?” the horror she felt was apparent.

  “Yes, unfortunately we have no choice but to do that.” For just a moment she looked regretful but then she straightened her shoulders and looked out at her audience. “This will be a difficult time of readjustment for many of us, I know. We must just do the best we can and trust in the Lord.”

  There was a general murmur of “Yes’m” but the hall was full of discontented faces. Adelia turned away, tears pricking her eyes. Even more than herself, she felt bad for the children whose fate was completely out of their own hands. They had to go where they were sent. Sure, Adelia might be out on the street but she still had some control over what came next. The children didn’t.

  She covered her face with her hands, and let the angry tears fall. It would be easier if she had a target for her grief, somebody to blame. But it was nobody’s fault that the money was insufficient to keep them. That’s just how it turned out.

  The other members of staff were filing out of the meeting hall and she followed them disconsolately.

  “Mayhap the new owner will require a cook and a footman,” Mrs. Daniels said to Clifton. “There might still be work for us here yet.”

  Adelia thought about that. Maybe if the new owner wanted to work the winery, she could ask for a job. After all, she knew quite well how to crush grapes and mix up the juice properly.

  I’m going to stay until they come and ask.

  Having some sort of plan made the knot in her stomach loosen slightly. Perhaps she could get the addresses for the orphanages the children went to. She could write to them and make sure they were all right. Adelia was so glad that the sisters made sure that not only every child but also every adult in the convent could read and write. She could keep in touch with the children, especially Freya and Fin. It was what she could do to mitigate the effects of this nightmare.

  “Oh, don’t cry, Adelia. I’m sure you’ll find something.” She was shocked out of her musings by Mrs. Daniels putting an arm around her shoulders and petting her. It was then that she realized her cheeks were wet and her breath was hitching.

  “I-I-I’m no-not cr-crying,” she protested.

  “Of course you’re not,” Mrs. Daniels continued petting her absently, steering her toward the kitchen. “Come and have some soup. It’ll make you feel better.”

  Adelia did not want to feel better, but she recognized Mrs. Daniel’s words for the kindness they were and followed her meekly.

  * * *

  Harry alighted from his carriage and straightened his pristine white breeches as he looked around at the orphanage he was purchasing. He knew that the occupants were vacating the premises that day and something had told him to arrive for that. He had dealt solely with the diocesan priest when negotiating the transaction who had been understandably reticent about the fate of the orphans he was evicting.

  He could see the children arranged in neat queues, according to height, climbing into a line of carriages awaiting them. One of the sisters caught sight of him and walked over, back straight, chin held high. Harry could only conclude that she was the Mother Superior.

  “Good morning, er, Lord…?”

  Harry bowed. “Apologies, allow me to introduce myself. I am Harry Abberton, The Duke of Rosemond and new proprietor of this property.”

  The Mother Superior raised an eyebrow, undoubtedly in surprise. She curtsied, bowing her head briefly, “Sr. Mary Catherine, Mother Superior, at your service.”

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sr. Mary Catherine. I am here to ensure that your move to your new residence goes smoothly and that you are experiencing no trouble?”

  The Mother Superior glanced at him. “It is going well, Your Grace. The provision of the carriages was a generous gesture.”

  “Yes. I assumed that with so many children it would be easier than using a stage coach. May I ask where you shall all be going?”

  She floundered for a minute, a slight pink staining her cheeks. “We do not have one particular place to go, Your Grace. We merely have letters from various orphanages informing us of the number of children they are able to accommodate.”

  Harry frowned. “Well…that won’t do.”

  “I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”

  “I cannot have you scattering these children about the countryside like chickens.”

  Sr. Mary Catherine lifted an incredulous eyebrow, “What would you suggest as an alternative?”

  Harry opened his mouth and then closed it. He had no alternatives to suggest. He could not even offer them accommodation at this residence as they did not have sufficient funds to run it. Harry knew well that any monies he had paid for the property went directly to the church’s coffers.

  Then he remembered his Brighton property.

  “How many children do you have and how many of them are able to work?”

  Sr. Mary Catherine blanched. “Work? I suppose all of those above the age of eight can do some form of labor. I have with me, five-and-twenty orphans.”

  “I have a property in Brighton left to me by a great uncle. I have been at a loss for what to do with it. The children can collect shells for the shops for payment, while the older ones can act as groomsmen for the horses that are stabled there. You may keep any profits you make to feed and clothe and educate your children.”

  Sr. Mary Catherine simply stared at him in stupefaction. “Are you in earnest, Your Grace?”

  Harry swallowed his embarrassment—he had not meant to make such a gesture. “Of course I am. I never say things I don’t mean.”

  Want to know how the story ends? Tap on the link below to read the rest of the story!

  https://amzn.to/2sCSO4J

  Thank you very much!

  Also by Olivia Bennet

  Thank you for reading A Seductive Lady for the Scarred Earl!

  I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, may I ask you to please write a review HERE? It would mean very much to me. Reviews are very important and allow me to keep writing the books that you love to read!

  Some other stories of mine:

  A Vixen for the Devilish Duke

  Guilty Pleasures of a Bluestocking

  Tempting the Ruined Duke

  The Devious Seduction of a Wayward Duke

  An Immoral Dilemma for the Scandalous Lady

  The Marquess in Her Bed

  * * *

  Also, if you liked this book, you can also check out my full Amazon Book Catalogue HERE.

  Thank you for allowing me to keep doing what I love!

  Olivia Bennet

  About the Author

  Having obtained a degree in Journalism, but with an affinity for literature and creative writing, Olivia Bennet knew from a young age that her future lay in the romantic ideals of the past. With a fascination for the Regency era and a good romance, she started her career as a historical romance author the old-fashioned way: with pen and paper.

  Born in rural Devon, Olivia draws inspiration from the vast farmlands of the British countryside and the people living in the surrounding villages. An avid artist, she takes her sketchbook everywhere with her and captures the beauty of nature, which she then incorporates into her books.

  Allow your conscious to be carried away on a wind made of letters and words, of love, mystery and the magic of the Regency era. Start your journey and allow Olivia’s pen to guide you!