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

by Bridget Barton

  “Heaven help me if I should say that to Maria! She would whisk me away in the dead of night in a blink of an eye.”

  Madelene started to laugh, a rich sound that carried with the soft breeze that rustled through the trees.

  “Time to get back to work, I think, or Gavin may just be the one to scold me. I have yet to meet a taskmaster like him, but he means well. Nielsen always seems quite mellow – he hardly lifts his voice to anyone.”

  Madelene continued in this strain of conversation, moving onto the other horses as the day progressed. The meeting with the Earl remained in her uppermost thoughts. Should she tell Maria? Her abigail would most likely find out about it soon enough. A part of her felt excited about it, and she failed to understand why. Perhaps, on some level, I enjoy Hugh’s company? She laughed.

  “Whenever I am afraid of him, I call him the Earl; however, as soon as I feel the slightest bit comfortable around him, he becomes Hugh.”

  She mused on this a good while, thinking about the enigma that was Lord Scarborough. If she was to meet him, then she could not slip away from the house to meet Eva, a friend of Diana, near Bolten Street. Ever since hearing about the poor of London, Madelene could not have lived with her conscience if she did not help them. Maria was unhappy about it, as it posed a greater threat to her, but Madelene would not hear anything of it. Perhaps it had not been a good idea to go in her natural form, but experience had taught her that women were more comfortable with other women. Of course, she could have had Diana and Eva speak on her behalf, but Madelene was not one to sit on the side while others did work that she was more than capable of doing. Besides, who would know that it was her? She borrowed Catherine’s clothes and made sure to carry both a shawl and bonnet with her – she was nearly unrecognisable, especially as most of her outings happened under the cover of darkness. Nielsen and Diana were trustworthy people, as were the other servants of the household. They had found out about her disguise through no fault of hers. However, truthfully speaking, what can remain hidden amongst servants? Did they not know everything that took place in the household where they served? The only ones who did not know of her true form were Prescott, Hugh, and Gavin. And that Mr Facet. The man continued to plague her thoughts, bringing her a feeling of unease whenever he was around her. She had caught him looking at her in the strangest manner, not once or twice, but several times. Madelene had not been able to figure out just who he was and why he seemed so familiar, but she did keep her distance from him.

  “The further, the better.”

  *****

  Hugh heard the tinkling of laughter as he passed the vegetable patch. That sound just added to his belief that his stable hand was no George, but a Georgette, or perhaps a Georgia? It did not truly matter what her name was, but he did wish to know who she was and where she came from. What would force a young woman to don a man’s garments? Was she in hiding? From who? Hugh found that he was more than interested in his little imposter; he was invested in finding out what she was clearly hiding. Both he and Prescott had agreed that pretending that he still had amnesia would serve him well. They were of the same mind: George was no man, but a woman. He entered the house, running into Prescott.

  “My Lord, I trust that your walk was good?”

  “Yes, I would say so. I have a guest later this evening.”

  Prescott frowned. “But we have not sent out any invitations, My Lord. Who can be joining you?”

  “Our very own George. I found one of my books beside her in the stables. So it seems that not only is our imposter a woman, but also well-educated.”

  His steward’s eyes widened. “Could she be ...?”

  Hugh brought a finger to his lips and pointed at his study. Prescott nodded and followed, looking around the hallway before closing the door.

  “My Lord,” he continued. “Could she be the woman that ran away? Huntington’s niece.”

  Hugh had considered that, but there were some glaring facts that he had to take into account.

  “If it is her, then surely she would have eventually realised that I am the Earl that she was to marry? She has no notion that I did not wish to marry her, and yet she has put herself at risk by remaining in this house. And what of her servants? How can we be sure that they are in fact her servants and not her parents? She is close to them, closer than a mistress is to her servants. And they dote on her as if she were their own child. It is plain to see that they love each other. What was it that they told you back at Grosvenor House?”

  Prescott stroked his chin. “Only that the young woman ran away with two servants. But Mrs Huntington told you something different, did she not?”

  “Yes. She informed me that she had run away with the stable hand; there was no mention of servants.”

  Hugh leaned in his armchair, his mind working to sort out the puzzle. What high-bred woman would willingly work in a dirty environment such as a stable? Cleaning out the muck, tending to horses – this was all manual work, and yet Georgie had managed the job well.

  “A high-bred woman knows nothing of hard work, Prescott. Georgie has proven herself in this area. Perhaps she is not Huntington’s niece.”

  “Georgie, My Lord?”

  Hugh laughed. “My little nickname for our imposter. She certainly is not a George, anything but! I believe that Georgie is an androgynous name, don’t you think?”

  “It certainly sounds androgynous, My Lord. Will you be calling the young woman by that name in her presence?”

  It was a good question. He was not familiar enough with her to give her a nickname, but calling her George seemed odd.

  “Not for the time being,” he decided. “I believe that I will continue to fake my amnesia, if only to find out more about our mysterious imposter.”

  The month was up, and yet they were all still here. What did that mean?

  *****

  The evening came upon her rather quickly, and Madelene found herself at the library door, her heart in her throat. Just knock, Madelene. There is no use in staring at the door as if you are some halfwit! Knock! She raised her hand and nearly uttered a high-pitched scream when the door was opened before her hand had even connected with the door. Hugh stood there, a smile on his face.

  “Oh, I do apologise. Did I startle you?”

  She tried to smile, but she couldn’t stretch her lips far enough.

  “Just a little, My Lord. I was not expecting the door to be opened from the inside.”

  Hugh stepped back. “Please, come in. I have been waiting for you.

  Madelene walked into the room, noting that this was the first time that she had done so with permission. It did not have the sense of danger that usually accompanied her entry, but there was a feeling of anxiety. Madelene did not know what the Earl expected of her, but she was sure she would soon find out. She looked around for an appropriate seat, but they all looked quite posh and plush. Madelene looked at her own clothes and noticed a couple of brown stains on her pants. Please do not tell me that these are horse droppings?! She moved behind a chair, hiding her pants from view. Hugh seemed somewhat puzzled by her actions.

  “Do you not wish to sit down, George? I assure you that these chairs are comfortable.”

  “I do not wish to soil your clean furniture, My Lord. I’m afraid that my pants are none too clean.”

  Why had she not just changed her clothing? Maria had purchased her two sets of pants just this week, with shirts to match. She could have just changed first.

  “Nonsense, George. Furniture can be cleaned. I far prefer good company than clean furniture. I’d sooner sit on the ground if that meant I would be rewarded with interesting conversation. So please, take a seat.”

  Madelene took a seat closest to the fireplace, gingerly perching herself on the edge, which earned the Earl’s laughter.

  “You are a stubborn one. If it were winter, then I would join you, but it is yet autumn, and the fires have not been lit. Must I choose a seat for you?”

  Madelene left her
seat quickly and inched closer to the Earl, choosing a rather stern looking chair.

  “Is this seat more to your liking, My Lord?”

  “Well, it certainly is better. I daresay that your derriere will be uncomfortable before long, but sit there if you must.”

  It seemed that the Earl was laughing at her again, but no sound of mirth escaped his lips. It appears that I am making a fool of myself. Her chair’s twin sat opposite her, but the Earl was not content to sit there. He pushed it away and replaced it with a far more comfortable looking chair. He settled in it, making sounds of pleasure.

  “Nothing like a good chair, do you not think so, George?”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Madelene sat further back into her chair, crossed her legs at the ankle, and placed her hands on her lap. She looked at the Earl and noticed that his stance was far more masculine, so she tried to imitate him. Madelene felt foolish for doing so and sat back in her seat, stiff and straight. The Earl patiently waited for her to settle in, amusement lighting up his eyes.

  “So,” he said. “Tell me about yourself, George. I am trying to remember how we first met. Prescott told me the tale of the bandits, but nothing rings a bell. Perhaps if you were to tell me about yourself, it may just jog my memory.”

  Talk about herself? Madelene was not prepared to do anything of the sort.

  “My Lord, forgive my question, but are we not here to discuss books? You mentioned that you seldom found time to read. We can speak on any manner of topic.”

  Except for my life. The Earl looked as though he was going to argue, but he changed his mind and leaned back into his chair, placing one leg on top of the other.

  “Very well. What interests you, George? Perhaps we can begin there.”

  He is intent upon centring the conversation on me; how am I to steer him to safer waters? Perhaps if I spoke to him of pirates, he would not be interested? Many English men and women find them barbaric and savage. He may change the topic himself.

  “Pirates, My Lord.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Really? And do you know of any pirates?”

  Do not give him any personal information, Madelene.

  “No, My Lord, but I have heard of them. The Barbary Pirates, I believe they are called.”

  He nodded. “And you would be right. How many languages do you speak and write in, George?”

  French, Portuguese from her time in Brazil, Turkish as she spent much time there, some Hindi, Bengali and Tamil from her adventures in India, Cantonese, Dutch, some German, Spanish, and Greek. Before she had left the ship, Rashid had been teaching her Arabic. But of course, she did not speak any of this to him.

  “English and some French, My Lord.”

  “Creo que estas mintiendo, George.”

  Of all the things to say to her! Yes, she was lying, but he didn’t have to say it. And how would he know anyway?

  “I am not lying, My Lord!”

  The Earl’s surprised look had her grimacing. She had fallen straight into his trap. Madelene tapped her forehead with the palm of her hand.

  “You surprise me, George. Where on earth could you have learned Spanish?”

  Think, Madelene, think! What are you going to say?

  “Books! Books, My Lord. I learnt Spanish by reading books.”

  Surely that explanation is good enough? It does sound believable, and it is not a full lie.

  “And where would you have obtained these Spanish books?”

  This man is far too persistent. Madelene needed to change the topic.

  “That does not truly matter, My Lord. You speak both French and Spanish, My Lord. Are there any other languages?”

  He narrowed his grey eyes. He knows that I have purposefully changed the subject. Oh, please let him not question me any further about this! The Earl’s eyes returned to normal, and he actually smiled.

  “Well, I speak rudimentary Greek, but I fear that I should be quite lost should someone try to include me in rapid conversation.”

  “I can imagine, My Lord. Languages are a beautiful thing, but quite intensive when first learning them. It is good to have native speakers surround you – I find that you learn far quicker than by just reading a book.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “You sound as though you know all about it.”

  Madelene looked down. “Only a little, My Lord.”

  “I have books in several languages, some that I could never hope to speak – but my uncle had a taste for all things different; therefore, he stocked this library with all types of literature. Pemberley Manor’s library is three times the size of this.”

  Madelene looked around the room, trying to imagine such a vast library, but she could not. She had believed her own collection of books to be extensive, but they were nothing compared to this library.

  “Your uncle was a wise man, Your Lordship. Knowledge can only be attained by reading and experience; I believe that your uncle was well aware of that. He must have been a learned man.”

  “Yes, he was. You may visit this library as often as you like George; it needs to be put to good use. I may call on you to join me some evenings, and you can tell me all about what you are reading. Will that be acceptable to you?”

  No, it would not. Spending time in your company is a dangerous thing, indeed. You are far too cunning, Hugh.

  “Yes, of course. Thank you, My Lord. I take it that I am dismissed?”

  Hugh nodded. “Yes, you must be fatigued. Diablo is not the easiest of horses to work with.”

  The Earl spoke of his personal black horse. Diablo was truly majestic, and he fit his name perfectly.

  “I find that once he has been exercised, he calms down. He is no bother to me, My Lord.”

  “I am glad to hear that. Good night, George.”

  Madelene stood up. “Good night, My Lord.”

  She bowed and quickly moved to the door, but rather than go to her own room in the servants’ quarters, she tiptoed upstairs to see the little boy. He may be sleeping, but it was customary for her to go past his room before retiring to her own room. Madelene continued to spend time with James, mainly in the stables. She had started to teach him his letters and numbers, and the names of different animals and insects. Madelene could not understand why James had yet to be taught the basics of literacy and numeracy. At the age of six, she had already started reading slightly more complicated books than those of her age, and she could identify the fauna and flora of several countries. The longer she lived in England, the more she came to realise just how unconventional her upbringing was.

  “I am to be twenty soon, and I believe that I am more knowledgeable of numerous subjects than many people in this country. This is a sorry state of affairs, I am grateful to have lived my life upon a ship.”

  She wondered what James would think of the sea and the many countries that she had visited. Madelene had a gut feeling that he would enjoy it. Perhaps I can take him with me, but that would be kidnapping. Lord Scarborough would be hot on my heels; that is if he genuinely cares about the child. She had yet to see the Earl interact with his nephew, and she could not understand it.