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

by Bridget Barton

  “Sir? We have arrived,” said the imposter.

  Prescott’s eyes focused. “And so we have.”

  He looked around, but he could not find Nielsen. Perhaps he is tending to the grounds.

  “It appears that Nielsen is not here, but I am sure that you are well experienced enough to deal with a few horses?”

  The imposter nodded. “Yes, sir. I am able to groom them, ensure that they have plenty of food and water, as well as exercise them. You needn’t worry about Lord Scarborough’s horses – they will be well taken care of.”

  Prescott lifted his head slightly and regarded the imposter. There was earnestness in the words spoken, but could that merely be a ploy to fool them all?

  “Very well, I shall leave you to it. Nielsen will inspect your workmanship once he is able to. Furthermore, he will discuss any other duties that you may be required to do.”

  “Yes, thank you, sir. I am indeed grateful to have been given this position, as are my parents.”

  Prescott frowned slightly. “As you should be. The Earl is a good man, but neither is he one who allows the wool to be pulled over his eyes.”

  Prescott watched as several emotions passed over the imposter’s face.

  “I would never dream of doing so, sir. I believe that I have work to do.”

  The imposter scurried away, entering the stable, and disappearing from sight. Prescott had always considered himself to be a good judge of character; however, he had to admit that he was thoroughly befuddled at this point. George, or whoever he indeed was, seemed genuine. His concern for Lord Scarborough had not seemed put on. In fact, it had been George who had volunteered to spend his time at the Master’s bedside, wanting to ensure that he would not take a sudden turn for the worse. It was any wonder how George managed to remain alert this morning. Prescott turned away, no better than when he had made his way to the stables. He needed to speak with his Master, and soon. It is time that we discuss what is to be done about these imposters.

  *****

  It was sometime later that Madelene chose to lift her head from her task and noticed that the sun had travelled. It was no longer high in the sky, rather, it had moved to the west, signalling the afternoon. Her belly gave a loud grumble; she had hardly consumed a morsel of food this morning, perhaps it was time for a break.

  “Mighty big grumble you have there, lad,” a man said from behind her.

  A thin, tall man stood by the doorway of the stable, surveying her with an interested gaze. He was chewing on a piece of hay, his teeth lazily grinding together. She judged him to be in his mid-forties. Madelene stood up from her stool and moved away from the snow white horse she had been tending to.

  “Yes, quite. Good day, sir. I’m afraid that we have not yet been introduced. I am the new stable hand – George.”

  Madelene stretched out her hand to him, and he clasped it firmly in his own, shaking it once before letting go.

  “Pleasure to meet you, George. The name’s Nielsen – no need to address me as sir, you hear?”

  So this is the man whom I have taken over from.

  “Mr Prescott informed me that you would inspect my work for me. Perhaps you would like to take a look at this present moment?”

  Madelene knew that she needed this man’s approval for Prescott to remove the doubt that she had seen in his eyes earlier on. For a second, she had believed that he had discovered her truth, but he had not accused her of anything as of yet. Not even when he had thought to mention that Hugh did not appreciate being lied to. It had been an intense moment, standing beneath his stern gaze, expecting to hear the words ‘imposter’ shouted from the rooftops. I surely thought that I was done for!

  “No need, George. I’ve been watching you tend to these horses, and you seem to know what you are doing. If anything, it will be Gavin who will complain should there be a problem.”

  “Gavin?” she asked.

  “Lord Scarborough’s driver, among other things. Loves these horses, he does. Would take care of them himself if he could, but he is needed elsewhere.”

  Where would a carriage driver be needed if not driving his Master around? Her belly rumbled again, prompting a chuckle from Nielsen.

  “Perhaps it is time for you to have some grub, lad. Run along, and I’ll carry on with Snow White.”

  She smiled. “Snow White? An apt name. Does Lord Scarborough have a love for fairytales?”

  Nielsen laughed, a great big guffaw that startled Snow White. She gave a whinny of protest, moving her head around. Madelene patted the horse’s neck.

  “Easy girl,” she soothed.

  “Sorry about that – forgot that she is the nervous sort. Took a while to calm her down when she first came. Master James did a good job of that, young as he is.”

  That surprised her. Was Nielsen talking about the same six-year-old she had put to bed the previous night?

  “James? The little boy?”

  “Aye, he’s a smart one, he is. He named that there horse – Snow White, he said, on account of her snowy whiteness. I remember when he used to sleep in the stables just to be near to her until Lord Scarborough caught on. Of course, by then, Snow White was calmer. Never seen such a skittish horse until she came along. I see you’ve got the touch with her.”

  It appeared that she did because Snow White had calmed down and was quietly chewing on the bale of hay before her.

  “Well,” Nielsen said. “I know that my Diana has a good meal waiting for me. Lord bless her – she’s been out feeding the poor today. My wife is a good woman, she is. How she manages to take care of the poor and still tend our little house and kids, the good Lord only knows.”

  Word of the poor grabbed her attention, but she did not speak of it.

  “You do not live on this land?”

  “I do, but Lord Scarborough has been good enough to provide me family and I with a little house on this land – it’s further behind the stables. Perhaps you would like to come along? I know that Diana always has a little extra for unexpected company.”

  Madelene would not have minded doing so, but she had many things to discuss with Maria.

  “That is kind of you, Nielsen, but my mother is expecting me. Perhaps another time.”

  He nodded. “Our door is always open. I am not likely to see you after my meal, as I have some ground to attend to, but perhaps I will see you on the morrow.”

  Nielsen left her, heading home to his wife. Madelene picked up the brush and continued to groom Snow White. The man had given her a lot to think about, and at this moment, her hunger came second. She had no doubt in her mind that she was going to stay longer, if but to see Hugh well again. However, why not utilise her time wisely? Nielsen’s mention of the poor had given her just the thing to do so. She would help the poor as well! Just how she was going to go about doing it was a different story altogether. Somehow, going as George did not seem as though it would be as effective as going as herself, but how would she manage that without being caught? And what of that man, Mr Facet? Is he who he claims to be? Her instincts told her no.

  “No use in remaining here, I need to speak with Maria immediately.”

  Madelene knew that her abigail would protest, but her compassion would ultimately win in the end. And what of little James? Maria had warned her to stay away from him, but Madelene could not. Such a lonely boy, and Hugh does not seem mindful of him. He provides for him, yes, but he is somewhat neglectful. Where are his parents? James had not spoken of them, which was a puzzling matter. Perhaps I am not the only one plagued by troubles.

  Chapter 8

  Madelene couldn’t understand why Hugh’s situation had not yet improved. A month had passed, and yet his amnesia persisted.

  “I suppose it suits me just fine, Snow White. Hugh does not remember ever having met us, and neither does he remember going to Grosvenor House.”

  The horse whinnied, and Madelene took it as her way of agreeing with her.

  “It is kind of him to allow us to remain at
his residence despite not knowing who we are. A lesser man would have had us thrown out onto the street. Although I do believe that Maria would prefer it that way. She has not ceased to fret since arriving at Scarborough House.”

  Maria was worried that the chances of being discovered increased the longer they remained at the house, and yet she had seen the merit in extending their stay.

  “Maria could never be so heartless as to abandon the Earl in his hour of need.”

  Her abigail was managing the house wonderfully, and it showed. The level of cleanliness had improved immensely, the day to day routines ran like clockwork, and the meals were more varied and much more refined. Maria had given the cook some lessons in French cuisine, and now Hugh had come to prefer it. Even Giles had adapted to his role as butler quite well. One would never be able to tell that neither of them had filled such work positions in their lives. Well, perhaps Giles has in a sense, but not conventionally so. And what of her?

  “I would say that I am doing exceptionally well, do you not think so, Snow White?”

  “And you would be right, George.”

  Madelene jumped at the sound of the familiar male voice, turning around to see the Earl smiling at her.

  “My Lord! Forgive me, I did not hear you approach the stables. Do you wish me to prepare a horse for you?”

  Her heart was racing. How much had he heard? Madelene silently prayed that her words had not betrayed her.

  “No, there is no need. I was simply taking a walk and heard you talking to the horse. Is this a favourite past time of yours?”

  Madelene was at odds within herself. If she said yes, perhaps he would think her slightly touched in her upper works, but should she say no, he may believe her to be a liar. Honesty is always best. Well, in most cases.

  “Snow White is a good listener, My Lord. The other horses tend to ignore me, but Snow White has shown a great aptitude for it.”

  “Perhaps some company of the human sort would be better. You certainly will receive an intelligent response!”

  Was the Earl laughing at her? His countenance remained serious, but his eyes appeared playful.

  “Do you jest with me, My Lord?”

  He shrugged, his eyes still twinkling with mirth.

  “Perhaps. Nielsen informs me that you have taken to this work rather well. Gavin has informed me of the improved performance of the horses. Have you worked with horses in the past? Forgive me if I do not remember should you have already told me. This amnesia has hidden much of what has happened in these last few weeks.”

  Thank the heavens for little mercies. Madelene hoped that when his memory began to return, she was long gone.

  “We have not discussed this topic before, My Lord. I do have experience working with horses, but not as a stable hand. However, it has not been difficult to care for your horses as Nielsen has done a fine job with them before I took over. I simply continued in the same strain.”

  A small smile played around the Earl’s lips as he regarded her with warm eyes.

  “Humility and modesty are traits seldom found in young men. I commend you for your good character, George. You will make a fine husband some day.”

  Madelene stifled a little squeal of denial behind a sudden bout of coughing. A husband?

  “Are you alright, George? Do you need some water?”

  No, she needed to laugh, but that would hardly seem appropriate. Madelene drew in a deep breath and quickly composed herself.

  “No, My Lord. I fear that I had a sudden tickle in my throat that caught me unawares. It is gone now.”

  The Earl nodded and quickly narrowed his eyes when his gaze rested upon something beside her. Cold dread filled her when she realised what it was he was looking at. Madelene had borrowed a book from his extensive book collection, and she had failed to inform him of it. Would he consider it stolen?

  “Uh, My Lord, I, uh,” she stammered.

  What do I say? How do I excuse my actions?

  “I was not aware that you liked to read, George. May I see the book you are reading?”

  Tentacles of fear travelled from her core and throughout her body. What am I going to do when he sees that the book is not even in English, but in French? Working class boys simply do not read French. But what could she do? The Master of the house had asked to see the book, and she must obey. Madelene nodded and slowly reached for the green, leather covered book. She had only just placed it on her stool when she started to talk to Snow White. I should have hidden it in the hay! How foolish of me! If her disguise were discovered due to a simple book, then all would have been for nought. And what of Maria and Giles? What would happen to them? Madelene would never forgive herself should any harm come to them. She handed the book to Hugh, and bowed her head, waiting to hear the words that would be akin to a guillotine ending one’s life. But they never came.

  “Contes Philosophiques by Voltaire,” he read.

  Silence. Madelene could hear her own breathing as she struggled to maintain her composure. Why does he not speak?

  “You certainly surprise me, George. You are able to read French as well. I expect that your mother taught you?”

  Madelene wanted to cry, and she almost very well did. Those were not the words she had been expecting, but they were most welcome. He is clearly not concerned with the knowledge of my French reading abilities, but why has he not scolded me for entering his library without his permission? Madelene had still yet to answer him, so she nodded, choosing not to speak as her throat still felt closed.

  “And are you interested in philosophy? I find the subject rather boring, perhaps because I do not find the time to read. My uncle, however, he was a philosophical man. Rather long-winded at times. This was his house, complete with the vast book collection.”

  Madelene swallowed hard and opened her mouth, hoping that her voice held no tremors.

  “I find it interesting at best, My Lord. I do not necessarily agree with Voltaire, but he certainly gives food for thought.”

  Oh, thank heavens! I sounded like my usual self. Well, almost. Having to deepen my voice is a bit of a bother at times. The Earl seemed to be considering her answer, for he remained silent as he briefly leafed through the book. Finally, he looked up.

  “I have many other books, as you would have seen. Perhaps after dinner, you can join me in the library? I should like to hear your thoughts on this subject further.”

  Madelene’s eyes were wide. “My Lord? Join you in the library?”

  He smiled, and she suddenly felt a weakening in her knees. Madelene frowned and applied a little more of her weight against Snow White’s leg, wrapping her arm around the thick and warm flesh. The horse protested slightly, but she continued to nibble on the hay before her.

  “Yes. It is not often that I meet someone who enjoys reading. I did as well before ... well, never mind that now. I expect you in the library at nine – that should give you ample time to eat and complete what duties you have left for the evening.”

  I cannot say no, can I? It would be rude of me. But how long would he wish to speak with me? The thoughts turned in her head, but she had to give an answer.

  “Yes, My Lord. Nine is perfect.”

  “Wonderful. There is much to discuss, I believe. I must return to the house now – Prescott has some pressing news for me.”

  Madelene gave a short bow and watched the Earl walk away, his limp barely showing. She hardly noticed his scar now, but she did notice that he favoured his left side when speaking to people. Madelene could not blame him; people tended to gawk at anything less than perfect. She found that his scar merely added to his character. There was a kindness in him that she imagined most people missed, or was it because he hid it well? Knowing his generosity was not enough to feel wholly comfortable in his presence, there was still something strangely exciting about the man.