The Secret Pleasures of an Earl: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

  He was only twenty-three, Milly reminded herself. He was a year older than her and in far over his head.

  Though Walter oversaw the land— and was very good at doing so— it currently didn’t belong to their family. He’d sold it and would only earn it back after twenty years of service to the Marquess of Fawley.

  Lord Fawley had saved them. Walter would have lost it forever if he’d given it to anyone else. Instead, Fawley had bought it and then given it to Walter to control. It was a kindness that could not be repaid, and a secret Milly was not allowed to share with anyone, including Catherine. Walter wanted everyone to think he still owned it. Pride was a terrible thing.

  Milly gave Catherine every spare shilling she could, mostly out of guilt. Neither of them had anything really.

  Suddenly, the tea Milly had loved seconds ago felt sour in her belly.

  “Give me the day to think of something,” Milly sighed. She could barely help herself, but the need of her neighbors pressed upon her. “Please, don’t send Peter away tonight.”

  Catherine tilted her head. “Are you sure Walter wouldn’t give you a piece of land if you married Harlan? It could be your dowry.”

  Milly scoffed. “I asked.” She had to look away as she lied. “Walter will not part with the land. He plans to give it all to his sons, just as his father gave it to him. My father pressed it upon him to never sell and to never break a single acre from it.” It was their father’s final request and before Fawley’s agreement, when times were harder, Milly hadn’t been sure if she’d adored her brother for keeping his promise or if she’d loathed him for all the time he’d made everyone else suffer for it.

  There was money in the land, Milly knew, but there were moments it felt like unspent gold. There was no better view of England at sunrise than from the drawing room window at Parker’s Paradise. That was what her father always said and for Milly, he’d yet to be proven wrong.

  “Marry Harlan,” Catherine urged. “Your brother will have no choice but to give you something as a dowry and the land is all he has to give.”

  If only she could tell her friend the truth. “I’m sorry, Catherine. I—”

  Catherine stood and crossed her hands in front of her. Her expression hardened as she stared down at Milly. “I have been very kind to you and your sister since your father’s death. Everyone knows he was a gambler and that your brother is following suit. Still, I looked the other way, because I felt a connection with you, Milly. I thought you were my friend.”

  Milly stood and looked at the young people. They were listening. She turned back to Catherine and couldn’t hide the wound she felt being torn open in her heart. Catherine had never spoken to her this way. “Catherine, please.”

  The older woman shook her head. “It’s Harlan, isn’t it? You simply don’t wish to marry my son because he’s poor. You’re still waiting on a better offer, aren’t you? You think your beauty will secure you a lord, but it won’t. Your family is just as poor as mine. You would soil any blue-blooded man who looked at you. You are no better than me, Miss Milly.”

  Milly shook with outrage and the hurt Catherine’s words caused, yet she told herself that Catherine spoke from a place of great pain herself. She was sending your youngest child away, because she had no choice. “Catherine… I’m sorry.” She wanted to tell Catherine the truth. She also wanted to tell Catherine that she wouldn’t mind marrying Harlan, but that wasn’t true either.

  Milly was a dreamer and life’s terrible circumstances hadn’t been able to change that. She believed in love, and she didn’t love Harlan. If marrying him wouldn’t save either of their families then there was no point. “Sell the house,” Milly urged. “The money from the sale—”

  “It has already been sold,” Catherine said. “We leave for London tomorrow.”

  Milly’s mouth gaped. “I didn’t know.” The two were more alike than she’d thought before.

  Catherine looked down and when she looked back up, her expression was indifferent. “I believe it is time for you and Miss Susanna to leave.”

  Milly had never been dismissed in such a cold manner. It hurt, but again, she reminded herself that the woman was losing a child to the mines. The income he made would hardly be worth it in the end, Milly was certain, but what choice did she have?

  “Goodbye, Catherine.” She wanted to give her friend a hug. This was likely the last time they would see one another, but she knew Catherine would not accept it. She saw it in the woman’s stiff posture. Milly was not only being dismissed from the house but from Catherine’s very life.

  But what was the difference, since Milly had never been and would likely never go to London?

  Gathering her sister, Milly left.

  Susanna wept most of the walk home and Milly, too busy wiping at her own tears, said nothing. She’d lost her only friend. The other locals stayed far from her family, as though poverty were a disease that one could avoid as intently as the plague.

  There had been only one another. Lady Joan La Barre and her little sister Agnes. They’d been close to her and Susanna before they’d left to live with an aunt in London. It was around the time Agnes left that Susanna had started to change, becoming more secretive about her time and cynical.

  Milly and Susanna cut through the dry fields of the Kemp’s property with their heads down. They had no parasols, only the patched bonnets on their heads. The sun’s heat was blistering, and both needed to find shade soon before their pale skin reddened.

  They soon made it to a line of trees and followed a footpath that would eventually lead to their own property. It would take an hour to get home.

  In the distance, Milly caught sight of a stately coach rolling by. The black coats of the horses shone as much the coach itself.

  Susanna made a longing sound, and Milly grabbed her hand.

  “Let’s go.”

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  CHAPTER 02

  Cassius Hiller watched as Miss Clemence Astella blinked rapidly. Her blue eyes peered at him. He watched, transfixed with the movement. Then he frowned. “Miss Astella, is there something in your eye?” He wondered if dust had blown in from the carriage’s open window, but it was hard to know for sure since the woman didn’t look to be in pain. She was grinning. The actions together seemed illogical.

  Suddenly, the blinking stopped, and Clemence turned a ghastly red.

  “Are you ill?” Cass asked her. “If you are, I would suggest we stop so that you can relieve yourself somewhere other than the coach.”

  Clemence gasped. Her mother, Harriett Astella, gasped even louder.

  The older woman, who had seemed to hate him since they’d been introduced, narrowed her eyes. “Your Grace, are you suggesting you’d put my child out of the coach if she were ill?”

  “Yes,” Cass said honestly. “It is only logical. That way, none of us must ride for the next hour with the scent of illness clinging to the walls. It would leave less of a mess for a footman to clean.”

  Mrs. Harriett pressed her lips together. The structure of her face told him she was upset, though he couldn’t understand why.

  Simon Astella, Clemence’s older brother, who sat next to Cass, laughed. “Oh, I’m sure Clemence is fine. She never gets ill, Your Grace. Never. Not once in her twenty years. Have you, Clemence?”

  Clemence turned to her brother. “No.” She looked at Cass then. “I’m never ill.”

  Her brother nodded. “A healthy girl. She’ll give the man who marries her plenty of children, I’m sure.”

  Cass, believing his own input to be required, looked the girl over and then said, “She looks too thin to carry children.”

  Miss Astella paled once more.

  Cass leaned forward. “Are you sure you’re not ill?”

  “My word,” Mrs. Astella said, horrified. Pulling out her fan, she began a swift motion that caused the wind to beat back her pale curls and send the strong scent of her perfume through the cabin. “Simon…” she said with warning.

&
nbsp; “Your Grace.” Simon cleared his throat. “I understand your meaning.” He wiggled a brow in Cass’s direction before he leaned over and whispered, “I prefer a curvy woman myself.” Then he leaned back and said, “But I can assure you that thin women have no trouble at all bearing children. My wife, Mariella, has given me four.”

  “That’s good,” Cass said. “My cousin, Lady Fawley, is thin. I worry for her.” He knew women were fragile. His own mother had died giving birth to his little brother. Neither had survived.

  Mrs. Astella softened, her fan slowing as her daughter brightened.

  Clemence’s color returned and, with it, a pretty smile. “I find it admirable that you care for your cousin. I only pray I find a husband who cares for me as much.”

  “I pray you find it as well,” Cass said, certain the words had been a good choice.

  Apparently, they were, since Clemence’s smile widened. Mrs. Astella’s gaze only became more watchful.

  Cass relaxed. He was used to people hating him, despising him because of his title. He preferred it over fear. Those who feared him were the worst. When he had become the Duke of Van Dero, he’d not only taken on the man’s sins but also his power. There was strength in the title itself, but he’d been aware of the legend of his great cousin long before becoming the duke himself. Gregory Hiller I had made the title what it was.

  “I’m glad you came to me about understanding your land.” Simon seemed unbothered by Cass’s company, which Cass was thankful for. In fact, he thought Simon actually liked him and was trying to impress him. Either that, or the man wanted something from him.

  Since coming into the grand Van Dero wealth, he’d found that many who’d once despised him now all looked at him with love.

  Or fear.

  “As a landowner and the most wealthy gentry in this part of the county, I can assure you that I know everything there is to know about the maintenance of agriculture and tenants. It takes a firm hand, which I’m certain you understand?” Simon lifted a brow.

  Cass didn’t know what the brow meant. He’d never been good at understanding gestures. Therefore, he ignored it. “Mrs. Mugge said you might be able to help,” he said, instead. Though he was certain Mr. Astella’s aid would have been better if his family were not present.

  Cass had wanted to ride his horse over the fields. He’d wanted Simon to be able to survey the property in depth, but Mrs. Astella had claimed the day too bright for riding.

  It was after Cass suggested the woman stay home that the dislike had begun.

  He wasn’t sure why the man had brought his eldest sister and mother along for the journey. Their need to prepare had cost them an hour of daylight. Cass had noticed no significant difference in either of their appearances in between the time they’d gone to their rooms and returned. He might have pointed that out as well, which hadn’t endeared Mrs. Astella to him at all.

  Even now, he wanted to inquire again why the women were present, but Cass thought it a bad idea to ask. Referring to his housekeeper, he said, “Ms. Mugge said only Mr. Walter Parker was better, but Mr. Parker wasn’t home when I went by.” And Cass had no time to wait. He was leaving for London soon.

  Simon frowned. “Walter doesn’t know what he’s doing. That land sees after itself, I can assure you.”

  “It’s blessed land,” Clemence said as she glanced out the window. “An ancient monastery used to sit there. The ruins remain at the top of that hill.”

  Cass looked and had to agree that Mr. Parker’s land did look blessed. The hills and the glimpse of a lake in a valley reminded him of Scotland. He coveted what his eyes beheld.

  Parker’s Paradise bordered Cass’s lands. He thought he’d make an offer to buy, but when he mentioned it to Mrs. Mugge, she’d advised against it. The old duke had also offered the Parkers a great sum for the land, but they would never part with it.

  Homes dotted the fields. The ruins of the old monastery stood like a lighthouse in the center of it all.

  His eyes caught sight of two young women walking down a long path. Their clothes marked them as servants.

  Or at least, he thought they were until Clemence said otherwise. “Oh, look! It’s Milly Parker and her little sister.” There was affection in her tone.

  “Pretty girls,” Harriet said. “But their father was terrible with his coin and so is their brother, Walter. I’m sure he does his best to oversee them, but if the boy knew what he was doing, his family would be in better shape. Clemence was close to the eldest for a time, but I’ve since separated them. My friend, Jane la Barre, had to send her daughter Joan away to her sister in London in order to keep her away from the Parkers. You’d do well to stay clear from the whole lot of them, Your Grace. Everyone else does. My son will be all the help you need.”

  Cass listened, but his eyes stayed on the women until they could not be seen anymore. How could such majestic land be owned by such a poor family? He supposed he’d never know, because if Mrs. Astella’s words were correct and the whole town stayed away from the Parkers, Cass would do so as well. He had no clue what he was doing as a duke. Most days, he still struggled to be less unusual. He’d do best to take the advice of the wealthy men and women around him.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  CHAPTER 03

  Susanna’s voice surprised Milly out of her musing.

  She’d been thinking about the rider in the coach. She’d imagined him as being a handsome young lord who would take one look into her eyes and decide it was she who would be his wife.

  “Is Catherine no longer your friend?” Susanna asked.

  Milly often wondered why children asked questions to things they already knew the answer to. “It would seem so.”

  Susanna looked up, tears in her gray eyes. “You can’t let her send Peter to the Lord of Gavellorp’s mine. He’ll die there.”

  Milly braved a smile and tucked back a stray black hair from Susanna’s cheek. “We don’t know that, Susanna. Many boys live and grow old in the mines, but Peter’s family will get him back before long. Once Harlan moves to the city and finds more children to tutor, Catherine will get Peter back.”

  Susanna shook her head. “Not according to my storybook.”

  The storybook. Milly had yet to read for herself, but for the last few months, everything that came out of Susanna’s mouth came from her storybook. The book was full of characters doing terrible things.

  She’d believed it to be Susanna’s imagination. Either Susanna kept the stories all in her head or she was borrowing paper from the house to draft her own book. With so few things to entertain her, Milly had let her be.

  Milly had also been very busy trying to find ways to make money herself. There were people in town who enjoyed her embroidery. She’d done entire drawing rooms for various women. Covers for chairs and tables. She even helped at the seamstress shop in town whenever there was work to be done.

  She’d asked repeatedly to see Susanna’s ‘book’, but her sister made excuses.

  There were so few pleasures for Susanna at home. Milly didn’t wish to upset her sister by telling her to cease playing in her imagination. Perhaps, Susanna was like Milly, a dreamer, a believer of another world. A better world.

  “What does your storybook say?” Milly asked, deciding she could use Susanna’s endless chatter to distract her own thoughts.

  “It said the Gavellorp Mines were a bad place,” Susanna said. “It said the Lord of Gavellorp was a bad person.”

  Milly frowned down at her. Until this moment, Susanna’s people had been named ‘Mary’ and ‘John.’ The characters were aristocrats who made social mistakes. Pickpockets and gossips. It had been easier for Milly to think her sister’s connections between book and reality were of her own making.

  But the Lord of Gavellorp was not a popular name at all. In fact, she was certain it existed nowhere else.

  “Are you certain the Lord of Gavellorp is in your book, Sue?” Milly asked.

  Susanna nodded. “He is. He’s really in th
ere.”

  “What did the book say about the Lord of Gavellorp?” Perhaps the book was real and had been written by someone he knew, someone who wished to make a fiction surrounding him.

  Susanna lowered her voice as though not wishing the forest to overhear her. “It said the Lord of Gavellorp beat boys to death.”

  Milly’s heart faltered. As did her feet. “It said that in your book?” Susanna had never mentioned death in her books before. “That can’t be possible. If someone found out…”

  “The Lord of Gavellorp is all but constable of his city,” Susanna said. “He is free to make up reasons for the boy’s death and no one fights him on it.”

  Milly didn’t find such a tale hard to believe. Often it was said that the worst offenders were those who claimed to be on the side of justice.

  Susanna hung her head then looked up and nodded. Her tears fell faster. “I don’t want you to take the book from me, but I don’t want Peter to die, Milly.”

  Milly placed a hand on her heart. “What is the name of this book?” Maybe it was a private journal of some sort.

  Susanna sniffed. “It doesn’t have a name.” She’d told Milly that before.

  “I want to see it when we get home.”

  Susanna’s shoulders fell, and she frowned. “Are you going to take the book away from me?”

  Milly stared at her. “I don’t know.” Most likely. She didn’t want Susanna reading about death. She was only thirteen. Trying to brighten her sister up a little, she said, “I saw a large cloud earlier. If it passes under the sun, perhaps we can play outside a little today.”

  There was no enthusiasm from Susanna. She was losing her friend and possibly her book.

  When they arrived at the house, they went straight to Susanna’s room, and Milly surveyed the area for the book but didn’t see it.