The Earl’s Wicked Seduction (Historical Regency Romance)

by Ella Edon

  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."

  "Oh. Of course. I see." Grace looked down again, wishing there were not constant reminders at every turn of how much all this was costing. "Then – who?"

  Aunt Betsey glanced at Uncle Leonard, and she looked very pleased with herself. "Now, it wasn’t easy, but I succeeded in having Mrs. Ezra Robbins sign your ticket for you."

  "Agnes Robbins owns the inn across the street," said Uncle Leonard. "She’s quite an important personage in Birdwell. She and her late husband practically founded the whole town some twenty-five years ago."

  "She’s been widowed for nearly twenty of those years, but it has never slowed her down," said Aunt Betsey. "Her daughter, Merope, will certainly be attending every one of the balls. If Agnes Robbins is willing to introduce you there, you will be accepted by everyone in attendance."

  "And she’s willing to do this? When she has never even met me?"

  "Well, now! Mrs. Robbins has been a good friend of ours for the many years that we have had our shop here. She was quite willing to sponsor our niece."

  "Out of friendship, then."

  Uncle Leonard laughed. "Friendship and five yards of our best purple velvet for a new cloak."

  Grace tried to smile, but only found herself trembling. "I – I’m sure that is meant to make me feel better, but I'm afraid it only adds to my nervousness," she whispered, and then began pacing the floor again.

  "Aunt Betsey, are you sure I can do this? I’m only a servant. I’ve never attended anything like this except to scrub the floors after it was over." She felt like breaking down and weeping from nerves and fright.

  "Grace Margaret Miller!" Aunt Betsey scolded. "Both your uncle and I are confident that you can do this, else we would not be putting so much at risk for you. Just remember your story. That’s the most important thing you can take with you as you walk through this town and through the doors to the ball."

  "That’s right," said Uncle Leonard. "Never forget: Your father has been dead, for many years, now. Your mother's brother, Uncle Leonard Vane, lives modestly as a merchant and quietly provides for the Miller family as best he can."

  "You are Miss Grace Miller, from a modest, but respectable trades family," said Aunt Betsey. "All of you lived far to the north in a small village called Maybranch. There were few opportunities in Maybranch, and so, at the first chance, your mother brought you to Birdwell to be near your aunt and uncle, and meet new people."

  "But – Aunt Betsey – I've never heard of any town called Maybranch."

  "No one has ever heard of Maybranch, dear. That's why it's an excellent town for you to have come from."

  "Oh," murmured Grace, as understanding dawned, and she sat down again on the footstool.

  Uncle Leonard stood up from his chair. "You have never been a servant. Your father was never a drunkard. He was a tradesman, a wheelwright, before his unfortunate death some five years ago."

  Aunt Betsey stood up, as well. "You live in the cottage at Applewood. You help your widowed mother care for your two younger brothers. And
you will stop at nothing to make the best match you possibly can, both for yourself and for all of us who got you here."

  Grace, too, rose to her feet, and managed to get her chin up and smile just a little. "Thank you, Aunt Betsey. Uncle Leonard."

  Aunt Betsey managed to smile in return. "We have thirteen days, Grace. And in those thirteen days, we will transform you into a lovely young lady who is proficient in dancing and whose manners are as good as anyone else's at this ball. You will catch the eye of every man there. We will see to that!"

  Chapter Six

  Meeting The Most Perfectly Wrong Man

  Thomas walked slowly along the boardwalk, keeping an eye on the two boys to see where they would go. At first, they just ran up and down both sides of the street, trying to see everything at once. At one point, he had to step out of their way as they nearly ran him down.

  I suppose I should be pleased to see I'm not being recognized. I feel sure they would not have trampled Lord Worthington in such a way!

  Eventually, the two boys discovered the Dove & Daisy Tea Room and Apothecary. Thomas surmised that they didn’t know the word "apothecary" and didn't realize that Mrs. Branch, who ran the tea room, also had a few shelves of sweets and confections for sale to go with the cups of tea she served each day in the front of the shop, while her husband took care of medicines and remedies in the apothecary section in the back.

  Thomas followed them inside, pretending to wander about the shop, while listening to the two boys try to decide what to buy. He hadn’t been in here often and did not think there was much chance of Mrs. Branch recognizing him, but he still kept his cap pulled down and his coat collar up.

  "John! Look at those!" cried the younger boy. "I think they're almonds, inside of candy!"

  They were looking at the French dragees, Thomas saw, which were indeed candied almonds.

  "Far too much," said the older boy, shaking his head. "You've only got a half-penny."

  "But you have a half-penny, too!"

  "I told you, Noah – I want to buy a chapbook with it. If we can find them."

  John. Noah. Now if I could only learn –

  "Grace can ask Aunt Betsey where the chapbooks are. Or Uncle Leonard. They'll know."

  "Actually, boys, I can tell you that," said Mrs. Branch in a stern voice. "But first, you’ll have to either make a purchase or wait outside my shop."

  The two boys looked shocked, but the older one – John – had the presence of mind to ask a question. "What can we get for a half-penny? How many of these?"

  He was pointing to the dragees. Mrs. Branch frowned fiercely. "None of those. I can give you a paper of brown sugar bits for a half-penny."

  "But – "

  "Nothing more! Now, do you wish to buy the sugar bits?"

  "Yes, ma'am," said Noah. In a moment, Mrs. Branch had measured out a few spoonfuls of broken pieces of brown sugar and wrapped them in a piece of paper with a twist at each end. "Thank you," the boy said, accepting the paper, and proudly gave her the half-penny.

  Mrs. Branch accepted the coin and managed a small smile. "The bookseller is three doors down on the other side of the street. Run along, now. Mr. Nestor may have a few chapbooks that only cost a half-penny."

  "Thank you!" said both boys, and again, they nearly crashed through the door before getting it open and dashing outside.

  Once they were gone, Thomas limped over to the counter and touched his cap to Mrs. Branch. "G'mornin' to you, Missus," he said. "I'd like a half pound of the almond dragees, if you please."

  She stared at him for a moment and gave him a little scowl, but then picked up a couple of large pieces of the heavy wrapping paper and scooped out the candied almonds. Grace, Thomas thought to himself, as he handed a shilling to Mrs. Branch. Her name is Grace.

  * * *

  Before long, Grace and her aunt and uncle were back downstairs in the shop. "I should collect the boys and return home," said Grace. "Mother will be needing my help with – I mean, I have tasks waiting for me."

  "Not just yet," said Uncle Leonard, walking towards the front of the shop. "Come over here, girl. I'll show you the fabrics we can spare for you. Then Aunt Betsey will get your measure."

  Just as Grace reached the light of the window, Uncle Leonard unrolled a length of fabric with a flourish. It was long piece of soft, pale-yellow muslin, which seemed to glow with the sunlight streaming in through the window behind it.

  "Uncle Leonard, it's beautiful," Grace said, reaching out to touch the gauzy fabric. "It looks just like a piece of sunshine."

  "Well, then, you shall have a dress made of sunshine," he answered, smiling. "I think it will go very well with your coloring – the dark hair, the brown eyes."

  "I told him that," said Aunt Betsey firmly. "He's good with fabrics, but has no idea which women they look best on." Then she draped the soft yellow muslin over Grace's shoulders and let it fall down to her waist. "Oh, yes," she said approvingly. "Goes very well with your coloring."

  Grace could only laugh as she ran her fingers over the light, gauzy fabric. "I'm so glad. It's so beautiful. I cannot wait to see the gown it will make!"

  Aunt Betsey snatched the length of fabric off of Grace and tossed it to Uncle Leonard. "I will find you a pair of kid gloves. It may have to be one of my extras, but you must have them. You'll go to the shoemaker's next week. Then there will be nothing left to do, but practice your dancing and etiquette, both here in the shop and within the walls of the cottage with your younger brothers."

  "Oh, I could dance with them, couldn't I!" Grace exclaimed. "They know a little because I've shown them whatever I managed to learn from watching the balls at Northcliff – though there weren't many. But I would love to practice with Noah and John and teach them about dancing, too!"

  "Good. The more practice, the better," said Uncle Leonard.

  "Just remember what we told you," warned Aunt Betsey. "And be here each morning by nine."

  "I will," said Grace. "I cannot thank you enough for all you have done for me." With that, she opened the jingling door and stepped back out onto the walkway along the street.

  * * *

  Thomas stepped out of the Dove & Daisy confectionary and back onto the wooden walkway. He grinned at the sound of the two boys thundering their way up the walkway towards their sister.

  It looked as though she had just left the Fabrics, Feathers & Fineries shop, for she was walking just past its door and hurrying towards her younger brothers. Thomas followed a few paces after them and stopped as they all made their greetings.

  "So, show me what you bought!" said Grace, "I can see that you have something. Noah, show me! What is that?"

  "Candy, of course!" Noah said proudly, and partly unwrapped the small piece of twisted paper that he carried. "Brown sugar lumps!"

  Now that he could see her face, the woman in the delicate green dress proved to be even more charming than Thomas had thought. That face was young and kind, yet strong, with smooth, warm skin and very large and shining dark eyes.

  Her brown hair was neatly drawn back in a twist at her neck, looking as smooth and as polished as the finest oakwood. Overall, she was tall and slim with square shoulders, her back held very straight.

  "Take one – a small one," said Noah, holding out the paper packet.

  "Why, thank you," said Grace. She reached into the crumpled paper, which was full of broken bits of brown sugar, took out a little piece, and popped it into her mouth. "Oh, my," she murmured. "Sweet as heaven, and the molasses smells so good. Did you give a piece to your brother, as well?"

  "He did," said John. "But there aren't too many and I didn't want to take them all."

  "That was very kind of you, John," Grace said approvingly. "Now what did you buy? I thought you wanted – "

  "Hello, there, young miss," said Thomas, touching his cap like a proper working man and remembering not to bow like the earl he actually was. "I see that you three are new to Birdwell. Allow me to welcome you. My name is – Adam. Adam
Wheeler."

  "Mr. Wheeler," said Grace politely, with a nod. She seemed to study his face for a moment, and then smiled shyly. "I'm Grace. Grace Miller. These are my brothers, John and Noah."

  "Miss Miller." Thomas shook hands with each of the boys, trying not to show how amused he was that their fingers were sticky from the brown sugar. "And John and Noah. Pleased ta make your acquaintance, young gents."

  "And we are pleased to meet you, Mr. Wheeler," said Grace. "Are you from Birdwell, too?"

  "Why – I am and I am not," Thomas answered, beginning to enjoy this. "I am not from it now, for I am only working on the temporary as a coachman for the Worthington estate. But once I leave Birdwell this morning, then I will be from it!"