A Lady for the Forsaken Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  Maria had heard that stagecoach drivers tended to be rough men, but perhaps it was an over-generalisation. Regardless, she did not want Madelene interacting with such men, haggling over prices as she loved to do, and possibly getting into a heated argument. Her young mistress seemed to attract trouble wherever she went, but it was never truly out of ill-intent. Maria had noted that there were some families in attendance, but the majority had been men. What if one of the men was to find out that there was a woman beneath the men’s clothing? It was highly unlikely, but still possible. It was best that Madelene stay away from crowds where necessary.

  “You are not going to deal with any men, ma cherie. The whole point of your disguise is to remain hidden. I will go.”

  “Maria, what if those stagecoach drivers cheat you?” Madelene argued. “I know the art of bargaining better than you. Remember that man at the souk? He charged you double for the jasmine oil that you love so much.”

  Maria vividly remembered that blisteringly hot day in Turkey. Had she not been so warm, she might have bargained better. She opened her mouth to argue, but her husband beat her to it.

  “There is no need for either of you to go looking for the stagecoach drivers,” Giles said. “Simply pull that chain, and it should bring someone to this room. We will have them communicate with the drivers.”

  Her husband was always one to point out the obvious. How could they have missed that little detail?

  Maria hoped that they would be gone by sunrise, and far away from the men that would seek to hurt Madelene. But what of the Earl? Maria had sensed that Madelene held an interest in the man, and while he seemed generous and kind, what man would accept a woman’s hand during a game of chance? Hardly the sort of man who she had envisioned her Madelene falling in love with. Perhaps America would bring about the type of man that Maria would find suitable? Time would only tell. She watched as Madelene pulled the chain, unlocking the door moments later when a robust woman knocked at the door.

  “What can I do for ye, Missus?”

  *****

  Madelene could not rest until they were far from this place. The housekeeper had managed to secure three spaces for them in the stagecoach, but the price had been dear. The sooner we leave the better. Somehow she had just known that someone had been watching them. Madelene was watching the window from the corner, hoping to see something that would justify her discomfort. A little grunt had her looking behind, but it was just Giles shifting in his seat. Both Giles and Maria had fallen asleep, their night walk catching up on them. Though she was in a hurry to leave the countryside, it also meant that she would never see the Earl again.

  “Why does it bother me so?” she muttered under her breath.

  By now he would have realised that his bride was no longer at Grosvenor House and should be on his way. It was late noon, and dinner would be soon. Why should I feel some type of way about this man? Is he not as much to blame as my foolish uncle? Surely that would put him in the same class as him? They were both gamblers, and both unscrupulous enough to force a young woman into marriage. Hardly the type of man that should hold her interest, but he did. The man was a walking contradiction. One the one hand, he appeared to be a generous man who was kind and just, but on the other, he was positively loathsome. I do not believe that I would have minded terribly to be married to him. Madelene slowly blinked. Where on earth did that notion come from?

  “I have no desire to be married to a man like him!”

  Maria woke up with a start. “Ma cherie, did you say something? Has something happened?”

  “No, no, I thought I saw a cockroach; that is all. Go back to sleep; I’m quite alright.”

  Maria nodded and soon dozed off to sleep again, her light snore more of a comfort than an irritation. Madelene was glad that Maria and Giles had been given a room facing part of the woods and the solitary road that led to the lodging house. Her own room that she was to share with Prescott only faced the woods, obscuring her view of the road leading to the lodging house. How else would she see the Earl’s carriage approaching? And why was the Earl so concerned about them that he needed to ask questions? Was he merely being polite, or did he suspect something? Perhaps it was better that she developed a fabricated life for them. But why should I answer any of his questions? Do I not have the right to abstain from replying to him?

  “Perhaps he thinks he is owed our life story due to his kindness.”

  Maria should have taken umbrage at his questioning, but her abigail was far too polite. However, Madelene found that she also wanted to question the Earl, to find out the kind of man that he indeed was. I doubt that I will obtain the opportunity to speak to him, let alone ask my own questions. It did not enter her mind that it would be a faux pas to question someone of a higher rank. Her sharp ears picked up the sound of horses hooves, and she narrowed her eyes, waiting for the carriage to come into view.

  “It may not even be the Earl, but I nevertheless seem to find myself on tenterhooks.”

  Madelene sucked in a breath when she recognised the coat of arms on the Earl’s carriage.

  “He is here,” she whispered.

  Her hands immediately went to her hair; however, upon finding the short curls, she grimaced.

  “How ridiculous of me! He believes me to be a boy – why should I care about my appearance?”

  She couldn’t resist smelling her clothing, satisfied when she detected the scent of an English garden, at least, that is what the soap had boasted.

  “The man may not even wish to see us again.”

  That did not stop her from hoping that he would. She wanted to see him one last time before they left the countryside. Madelene had the oddest sensation of being pulled towards him, almost as though an invisible string tugged at her person. She had experienced it ever since the moment their hands had touched. He had felt it too, for his reaction had said it all. Perhaps that is why he helped us. Madelene wanted to know if it would happen again, and if it did, how the Earl would react for the second time. She had been the one to draw away first, but had she not pulled away, would he have responded differently?

  “What am I saying?! The Earl thinks of me as a boy, for goodness sake! What would he want with a boy?”

  Unless he prefers his own gender? Madelene had heard of such things, but she did not imagine the Earl to be a part of that affiliation.

  “It would be a damned shame for women, I suspect.”

  Madelene uttered a sharp cry of alarm when a hand settled upon her shoulder. She turned sharply to find Maria’s own startled face.

  “My apologies, ma cherie, I did not mean to startle you.”

  “Do not be concerned, Maria. I simply was not expecting you to be awake and did not hear your footsteps.”

  Maria frowned. “Perhaps you were too concerned with the man that has just arrived.”

  Madelene’s cheeks readily turned pink, and she looked away.

  “I do not know what you could possibly mean.”

  Maria reached for her chin and looked into her eyes.

  “Be careful, ma cherie. You are a wise woman in many ways, but you are naïve where men are concerned.”

  Her abigail could read her like a book. It was no use denying her minuscule interest in the Earl.

  “He is simply interesting, Maria. A conundrum of sorts, that’s all. Once we leave this place, I will never see him again, so you need not worry yourself.”

  Maria gave her a look that spoke volumes but said nothing further. Her hand went briefly to Madelene’s short curls before leaving her to wake her husband up. Even Maria realised the importance of being fresh and awake should the Earl wish to see them. If her uncle had dared to tell the Earl that she had run away, then it was only a matter of time before they would find out whether or not the Earl would see through her disguise or be none the wiser as to whom he had helped. What will happen if the Earl realises that I am his unwilling bride? Will he force me to return with him to his house, or will he reject me on account of my
scandalous manner? Madelene found that she really wanted to know, but neither was she willing to give up her freedom due to the interest she harboured for him. A knock sounded on the door, and, thinking that it was the housekeeper, she answered it. The Earl’s steward stood behind the door.

  “My apologies if I have disturbed you,” he said. “But my master requires your presence at dinner.”

  Madelene’s eyes widened briefly and settled to a slightly interested gaze.

  “Let me ask my parents if they are able to make it to his lordship’s dinner – they are quite fatigued from the day’s events.”

  “I apologise. I have not made myself clear enough,” he said. “The Earl would like to see you alone in his room, but he has made provision for your parents to have dinner brought to their room.”

  The Earl wanted to see her alone? Even though she had imagined speaking with him, it had always been within Maria and Giles’ hearing. But she would be alone. What would the Earl want with me?

  “I, uh, that is to say ...”

  What was she trying to say? Is it yes or no, Madelene? It would be ungrateful of her to refuse such a small request on his part, added to that was the mention of food, paid for with his own money. They will be able to save even more money. Her pragmatic side won.

  “Thank you, I will be there shortly.”

  Prescott inclined his head in her direction before neatly turning away. What am I going to do now?

  *****

  Hugh watched his steward enter the room, his face not giving away anything.

  “Will the young man be joining me for dinner?”

  “Yes, My Lord,” said Prescott. “You were quite correct. He was not in our shared room but in his parents’ room. What made you so sure about his location?”

  “I cannot say for sure, Prescott, other than that I believed that to be the most likely place. I fear that our travellers are not quite who they say they are, and I would like to uncover any hidden truths.”

  His steward frowned. “If I may ask, My Lord, why the interest in these people? They seem like humble working people.”

  Hugh forgave his steward for not being as sharp as he was. After all, he had spent years as a spy, while Prescott had served his uncle, the previous Earl of Scarborough. Hugh could not believe that the old man had named him the next in line to the title, despite having his own son. However, due to the fact that his son, Trevor, enjoyed the attentions of his own gender, the Earl believed it necessary to look elsewhere to continue his lineage. Had Edward still been alive, Hugh had no doubt that he would have been named Earl at the old man’s death.

  “There are details that are unclear. They are hiding something, Prescott; I am sure of it. I believe that the key is the young man. We have a short time left to us for we must return home tomorrow, but I know that I would not have rested had I not spoken to George.”

  The need to speak with him had almost been desperate, surprising Hugh himself. George was not an ordinary young man, of that he was sure. There was an air about him that belied the person that he was trying to portray to him, and Hugh wanted to know why. The young man’s bearing did not provide him with the picture of a simple country boy, and his parents seemed to defer to him, as though the young man carried authority. Hugh stroked his chin as he drummed his fingers on the tabletop. He was looking forward to speaking with George, excited about unearthing some hidden secrets. It was nearing the hour for dinner, and soon the young man would be knocking at his door. Hugh had made sure that an abundant amount of good food was to be sent to his room. He looked around the room, nodding his approval. It was a reasonable accommodation, he had to admit, and the room was a good size, fitting in a king sized bed, a round table and chairs, and storage space. Wealth meant that you received the best of everything, and Hugh could tell that this was probably one of their best rooms. A brief knock on the door had Prescott opening it to admit the housekeeper with their meal. Moments later a second knock sounded. This time it was George, looking out of place and uncertain.

  “Please, come in,” Prescott said.

  George entered the room, his striking blue eyes widening. As he looked around the room, Hugh studied the young man. Average height, slender build, perfect rosy skin, not a facial hair in sight, rosebud lips, wide sapphire blue eyes, fine blonde eyebrows, and a slightly upturned small nose. Hugh listed George’s physical features, trying to reconcile them with what he believed an average boy should look like. The young man’s features were simply too feminine, from the high brow to his pointed chin, and even the slender hands with the clean oval fingernails.

  “Good evening, George. I trust that you are well-rested this evening?”

  The young man’s eyes seemed to focus on him reluctantly. There was a great wariness in his eyes, and Hugh sought to make him feel welcomed.

  “Yes, thank you, My Lord,” he said.

  He immediately looked away again, clasping his hands in front of him.

  “Please, take a seat. Our dinner has just arrived, and I’m positively famished.”

  George took a seat closest to the door, a little stool that Hugh might have used as a footstool. He’s making a point of not sitting at the table. Hugh was amused, but he did not make it visibly so.

  “George, please sit at the table. I hardly think that you’ll be comfortable at the stool.”

  Two red spots appeared on his cheeks as he stood up, head bowed, and slowly drew out a chair for himself. Hugh glanced to his left and encountered Prescott’s frown. His steward’s gaze was firmly on George.

  “You may leave, Prescott. I will serve George and myself. I am sure that you would enjoy some solitude this evening. I will summon you once we are done.”

  Prescott frowned at him but nodded.

  “Very well, My Lord.”

  He bowed and exited the room, his parting glance centred on George. Hugh sensed that his steward was somewhat interested in the young man and likely wanted to be present as he posed several questions to him, but Hugh wanted George to be as comfortable as possible, and that meant removing extra people from the room. Prescott often gave off the notion of being judgemental, but if Hugh came across as friendly, the young man might drop his guard. George had not lifted his head yet. This will not do. I need to look into his eyes when he answers me, in that way, I can tell when he is lying. Hugh stood up and lifted the lids off of the steaming dishes before him.

  “It all looks good, does it not? Of course, I am used to finer cuisine, but this suits me perfectly as well.”

  George glanced up, nodded, and then looked down again. If things continue like this, I will never engage him in conversation. A notion entered Hugh’s head.

  “Would you mind serving us both? My steward usually does so, but the poor man needed a rest. He is not as young as he used to be. He served my uncle before me, you know.”

  Wide eyes flew to him before he stood and picked up a serving spoon.

  “How much would you like, My Lord?”

  “Not too much. Some vegetables, particularly the potatoes, and a leg of the roast fowl. I am a light eater, I’m afraid.”

  George nodded as he prepared the first plate, putting it before Hugh, and then prepared his own plate. Hugh noted that he dished up sparingly. Is he trying to be polite or is he a natural bird picker of food?

  “Surely that is too little for you? Come, let me help you.”

  Hugh took George’s plate from him and doubled his portion before setting it before him. The boy’s eyes were round as he stared at the mountain of food before him.

  “Uh, th-thank you, My Lord. You are too kind.”