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

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A Lady for the Forsaken Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 13

by Bridget Barton


  “That Earl is going to be a problem. Who knew that he would be uncharacteristically generous?”

  But once they reached London, all sorts of things could happen. Pringle was confident that the three travellers would separate from the Earl once they entered the busy city.

  “And then I’ll get my chance.”

  He was looking forward to it, and if he had to do away with the woman and man, then so be it.

  *****

  The second leg of the journey seemed shorter; however, Hugh was not ready to part with his companions just yet. The previous day had given him the answers he had sought: the young man was indeed a woman, which led him to believe that there were other lies hidden amongst his three companions. As they neared the city, he could sense the woman’s excitement.

  “Are we close, My Lord? I can almost smell the change of scent in the air.”

  “Yes, we will be in London in a short while.”

  She smiled, the first genuine smile that he had seen since their first meeting two days back. Hugh was no closer to discovering who these people were or where they had come from, as the big man had made sure to keep him from asking intrusive questions. George had mentioned the need to look for work and had spoke of looking for positions in London. Only she isn’t a George, is she? Perhaps George is a shortening of Georgette? Maybe he had a solution to that. He had recently removed many of the servants from his house, finding them to be untrustworthy and cunning. Something told him that these people, despite their obvious lies, were good people. The type that would not accept a bribe at his expense. Hugh hoped that his opinion of these people was correct, if not, then he was in for some trouble.

  “I have been thinking,” he began. “George mentioned that you were looking for work, and I find myself in the position of needing trustworthy servants.”

  His companions looked at each other, silently communicating. They are going to decline.

  “I will pay you handsomely. I treat my servants well, as Prescott will vouch for me. A warm bed, good food, a handsome salary, and a day off once a week. What do you say?”

  He posed the question to Giles, but his thoughts were firmly on the young woman.

  “And what positions would these be?” Mr Wickham asked.

  “I have need of a butler, a housekeeper, and a stable hand.”

  “You keep horses in Town?” the young woman asked. “I did not think that many people would do so.”

  Hugh smiled. “I am not many people, George. I keep several horses as my residence in Town is considerably larger than most. I have ample land to keep them well looked after. Do you ride, George?”

  “I love to ride, My Lord,” she said. “I find it rather exhilarating.”

  “Good. You will be a perfect stable hand, I believe.”

  Mr Wickham objected. “My Lord, we have not agreed to work for you.”

  Hugh frowned. “Am I incorrect to believe that you have come to London to find work? Do you have an objection to working for me? I assure you that you will not be in want should you choose to work for me, Mr Wickham.”

  “I believe that what my husband is trying to say is that we do not wish to impose on you any longer, My Lord,” Mrs Wickham said. “You have been quite generous, and for that, we are most grateful.”

  Hugh waved his hand. “Nonsense, Mrs Wickham. You would be doing me a great favour of removing this burden from my hands. I have been looking for servants for quite some time, but none possess the calibre of honesty that I expect from my servants.”

  He watched as a look of mild embarrassment passed between his companions.

  “Perhaps you can take these positions on a temporary basis. You can make an informed decision after one month. I believe that is reasonable, wouldn’t you think?”

  The young woman laid a hand on the man’s larger one, and he nodded.

  “Your terms are reasonable, My Lord,” he said. “We accept.”

  “Wonderful! You have done me a great service, Mr Wickham.”

  The young woman studied him for a moment as if looking for any deceit within him. However, Hugh was well learned in the art of schooling his features to reveal nothing. She frowned and lowered her gaze, apparently deep in thought. It is only a matter of time until I find out your real identity, but until then, I will treat you like a young man. Hugh was interested to see how she would fare as a stable hand, but more so, he was curious to know what had to be so terrible in her life that she felt the need to don a disguise.

  *****

  The Earl’s townhouse was more than Madelene had been expecting. In fact, it was not a townhouse at all, as it was not attached to any other row-house. The vast size of what she could only describe as a mansion was a grand brickwork of arches, pillars, and many windows. It sat on its own, and from what she could see as the gates were opened, it had a vast expanse of land surrounding it. While it was nothing like the rolling parks and sculpted gardens of the countryside estates, it possessed its own charm of well-manicured lawns, perfectly kept ferns and shrubs, and its own water feature that spouted water from a stone maiden holding what Madelene imagined would have been a clay pot had she been flesh and bones. The Earl’s Town residence greatly overshadowed the row-houses she had seen as they had driven up the street, making her wonder at his wealth.

  “What do you think about Scarborough House, George?”

  His question cut into her thoughts, forcing her to look at him. The Earl seemed to make it a point to address her, which somewhat confused her. Giles had made sure to engage him in frequent conversation, asking his opinion on a manner of topics. And yet, the Earl had sought out her own opinion as well. Why would the Earl need the opinion of a boy?

  “It is magnificent, My Lord. Certainly not what I was expecting.”

  He nodded. “My exact sentiments when I first entered its gates this year past. It seems that my uncle had a love for grand architecture and opulence – tastefully done, mind you. He was one of the first to embody Greek detail in the interior decoration.”

  So he came by his title fairly recently. Madelene found this information interesting. Perhaps this is the reason why he is not overly concerned about rank and class. The carriage drew up to the front, and when they stepped down from the carriage, Madelene was able to take in just how magnificent the Earl’s home indeed was. He walked forward, but she hung back with Giles and Maria. Surely they should enter in through the servants’ quarters? The front door was solely for visitors. The Earl noticed this and turned around.

  “Do you not wish to enter inside?” he asked.

  “Our place is in the servants’ quarter, My Lord,” Giles explained. “It is not proper for us to enter through the front.”

  Comprehension dawned. “Do not concern yourselves with such propriety, my good man. I may be an Earl, but I assure you that I am not one to lord my title over others. Besides, you are my visitors this day. There is time enough for work tomorrow. Come, let us enter.”

  The Earl made a point of walking to Maria and placing her hand on his arm.

  “Mrs Wickham, if you would do me the honour of entering my humble abode with me?”

  Maria’s quick smile was genuine. The Earl certainly is charming. He has made Maria smile despite her wariness.

  “Of course, My Lord,” her abigail said.

  Madelene exchanged a surprised look with Giles, who shrugged his shoulders and followed his wife. She hoped that they would soon get time to themselves as there was much to discuss, especially since they had agreed to work for the Earl. Perhaps this is a blessing. We now have accommodation for a month and will earn a month’s wages. This should aid us in securing a space on the next ship to America. Madelene’s mind was so wrapped up in looking ahead into the near future that she did not take any notice of a young boy running in their direction until he had slammed into her, knocking her off her feet.

  “Oof!” she exclaimed as the air was knocked out of her.

  Madelene found herself looking into grey eyes very
much like the Earl’s, except these eyes were mischievous and not in the least bit sorry.

  “James!” the Earl scolded.

  The boy’s eyes changed, becoming wary. Madelene sat up, opening her mouth to reassure the boy that she was okay, but he set off running again, quickly disappearing from view. Is that his son? It hadn’t occurred to her that the Earl had a son. What if he’s married? She set aside that thought, not believing that he would have accepted her hand from her uncle if he was already married. Unless he meant to keep me as his mistress? Madelene had heard of men who had other women besides their wives. Courtesans, that’s what Aunt Cornelia had called them. Had the Earl been planning to subject her to such a distasteful position? He did not seem like a man who would do so, but then again, she hardly knew the man.

  “Are you alright, George?” the Earl asked.

  Giles was already helping her to her feet, which she wished that he would rather not have because it took away from his image as a healthy young boy. I have to keep up this disguise if I am to make it to America. However, she could not blame him, because after all, she was still his Master’s daughter, charged with her safety. Madelene dusted herself off as best as she could, smiling to show that she was not sorely affected by the fall.

  “Yes, My Lord. It was nothing but a minor fall. I was simply surprised, that is all.”

  The Earl nodded, but she noticed his angry countenance. Madelene did not wish for the boy to be scolded on her behalf, despite the fact that he had knocked her over with hardly an apology to follow up on.

  “We would love to see what lies beyond those doors, My Lord,” she said.

  The Earl’s expression changed, but she could see that there was still a storm coming for the young boy. Madelene judged him to be around five or six, a handsome little boy who strikingly resembled the Earl. It has to be his son. How else would he look so much like him? The doors were opened before the Earl reached them, and she found herself walking into a building that took her breath away. Madelene was used to seeing opulence as The Marguerite docked at various harbours throughout the world, and she was lucky enough to enter into many palaces and beautiful homes bedecked with fine silks, gold finishes, and all the priceless ornaments that one could possibly buy. However, Scarborough House was in a league of its own and promised many days of exploring all it had to offer. The Earl addressed the maid who had opened the doors, his manner brisk and tense.

  “Catherine, ask Mrs Rosely to prepare a light meal for my companions and I. I will take mine in my study.” He turned to them. “Catherine will show you to your rooms and will call you once the meal is sorted. I will take you on a tour of the house tomorrow and have Prescott explain your duties. I’m afraid that I cannot linger much longer as I have important business that I must take care of.”

  The Earl did not give them much time to answer as he walked away, his strides eating up the floor, and disappearing around the corner.

  “Come, let me show you where you are to sleep,” Catherine said.

  They followed her up the stairs, but Madelene’s mind was still on the Earl. He apparently had not been happy to see the child, and she wanted to know the reason why. It seemed that they were not the only ones hiding things.

  *****

  Hugh poured himself a brandy, before settling into a chair. Moments later, Prescott entered.

  “Where is Miss Tresilian?” Hugh demanded.

  “It seems that the young governess has left, My Lord. Just yesterday morning.”

  Hugh rolled his head back, willing himself to control his emotions. He simply did not want to work himself into a state, let alone do it over the illegitimate son of his brother.

  “What was her reason? Did you find out?”

  Prescott nodded. “The woman complained about the young master, stating that she could not teach a devil child.”

  Hugh groaned. This was the fifth governess in a year, and he was at his wits’ end. His brother had left several loose ends after his untimely death, and now he was having to deal with one of them.

  “Put in another notice, Prescott. Make sure that it goes out by tomorrow morning. I cannot have him running around the house and causing havoc.”

  Prescott nodded. “Very well, sir. But I am afraid that we will have to look elsewhere. Mrs Watier informed us this last time that she would not provide us with a governess after Miss Tresilian. We will have to find another agency.”

  “Then I trust that you will do so. Until then, lock the little nuisance in his room. I cannot abide by rowdiness.”

  Hugh rolled the glass across his forehead, expecting his steward to leave, but the man stood by looking at him.

  “Yes? Is there something that you wish to ask?”

  Prescott looked uncertain, an uncommon occurrence in his steward.

  “Yes, My Lord,” he said. “Perhaps the boy could do with a male influence in his life. A type of father figure, if you will.”

  Hugh’s eyes took on a pained expression, followed by a coldness that could pierce a man’s heart. However, Prescott appeared undisturbed as he was used to his moods.

  “Are you suggesting that I become a father to my brother’s bastard son?”

  The notion was utterly ludicrous. He would have never taken in the child had the damned woman not pushed the squealing babe into his arms. The woman had disappeared into the crowd after that, but she had left a note in the boy’s clothing. All attempts of finding her had failed, and Hugh knew his brother’s widow enough to know that she would never accept the illegitimate child of her husband. In fact, his family believed the child to be his, and Hugh had not cared to correct them. What would have been the use? They already blamed me for Edward’s death. How much more so would they have attacked me had I dared to damage his image of the perfect son, husband, and father? Instead, Hugh had paid a woman to look after the boy, making sure that he was well fed and clothed, but not bothering to see him. It had only been when he had returned from the War that Mrs Roxwell had brought the boy to him, stating that she no longer could look after him. So had begun the task of finding a suitable governess, but no sooner had they found one, than James would drive them away. Perhaps he needed to have a talk with the young boy.

  “Not at all, My Lord, that would be asking for too much.”

  Hugh detected a note of sarcasm and was taken aback by it. Was his steward expressing disapproval?

  “Do you mean to question the way that I see to the boy’s needs?”

  The question was quietly spoken but held a note of danger that his steward immediately picked up on.

  “Perhaps I should leave, My Lord. I need to send that notice about a new governess.”

  Prescott bowed and exited the room, not waiting to be dismissed by his master.

  “It seems that my own servants seek to question me about the boy. They have failed to realise that it is not my duty to see to the illegitimate child of my brother. I could have sent him to the orphanage! But I did not. I took him in, clothed him, and fed him, all the while remembering that he is the son of the man that destroyed my life with his greed.”

  Hugh suddenly pitched his glass, throwing it with such force that it smashed into tiny pieces as it hit the wall, falling like rain onto the carpet. A timid knock sounded, but he did not want to see anyone.

  “Go away!” he bellowed.

  He needed some time alone. Maybe a visit to Madame Lavelle’s establishment would do him some good. Hugh grabbed his coat and stormed out of the room. The hour was too late, but he had no intention of taking the carriage. A horse should suffice. Perhaps I’ll find Jasper there, or maybe I’ll call on him and bring him along. Just for tonight, Hugh wanted to forget all about his problems.

 

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