Earl of Darling (Wicked Earls' Club)

by Maggie Dallen

  Earl of Darling

  Wicked Earls’ Club

  Maggie Dallen

  Katherine Ann Madison

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  About the Authors

  Chapter One

  Everyone in fashionable society would agree that Miss Evelyn Rathmore was every inch the lady. Which was to say, she had no experience with climbing out of windows.

  “Are you certain you know what you’re doing, miss?” Cora asked.

  Evelyn drew back from where she’d been leaning out over the sill, a cold gust of winter wind following her in.

  She turned to face the new maid with her rosy cheeks and furrowed brow. “Of course!” Evelyn said with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than was necessary. Her smile also felt far too bright. “Remember what I told you. If anyone asks, you have not seen me all evening.”

  Cora nodded, but concern still clouded her eyes. “Yes, miss.”

  Evelyn gave a sharp nod, clutching her reticule tightly—it was all she would be able to bring with her, but it contained enough money that she ought to be able to reach her aunt’s home, and from there…

  Well, that was as far as she’d gotten with her plan. She had not seen her aunt in several years, but she’d always been kind to Evelyn, and she hoped that with her help they might figure out where she could go next.

  Once her reputation was thoroughly ruined.

  She squeezed her eyes tight against the pain, the frustration, the overwhelming anger at the injustice of it all.

  Cora misunderstood. “If ye’re having a change of heart, miss, it’s not too late to reconsider—”

  “I am not having a change of heart.” Her eyes snapped open with a glare.

  Cora eyed the second-floor window warily. “That’s an awfully big drop—”

  “It’s not that far.” Evelyn’s tone lacked the right amount of conviction as that last glance outside the window had indeed shaken her nerve.

  The drop to the ground had not seemed so very great two days ago when she’d first hatched this plan. She moved toward the window now and stuck her head out, eyeing the garden beneath. Her head spun at the distance to the ground, but she turned back to Cora with a determined grin. “See that? There’s snow on the ground. Surely that will help to cushion the fall, no?”

  Cora’s wince was far from heartening. She wrung her hands together before her as she glanced from the window to the bedroom door. “Are you certain you cannot slip out through the kitchen, miss?”

  Evelyn just barely held back a sigh. “I cannot do that, Cora, and you know the reason why.” She attempted to soften her tone with a smile. “You are the only servant I trust.”

  And to be honest, she didn’t trust her all that much. Cora was a new addition to the household staff, and it was only her newness that made her Evelyn’s best option for an ally. The rest of her father’s staff had been here since before she’d been born and were loyal to him to a fault.

  But Evelyn would need someone to close the window after she was gone, not to mention a messenger who could explain her decision to leave to her brother when he returned from his travels.

  “Remember, Cora,” she said. “When my brother returns, you must tell him that I was of a clear mind when I ran away, and that it was of my own free will.”

  Cora nodded, her brow still furrowed and her fingers fidgeting with the lace of her apron.

  Evelyn held back another sigh of impatience. She was glad to have found one servant who she was fairly certain would not run to her father the moment she was out of sight. But it would have been slightly more reassuring if her ally were not quite so nervous all the time.

  She squared her shoulders and straightened her spine, hoping some of her own resolve might rub off on the older woman. “Tell Jacob that I will send word just as soon as I am able. And that…” She bit her lip, not sure how many intimate details she wished to entrust with Cora, who could very well cave the moment Evelyn’s father fixed her with one of his cold, hard stares. She wet her lips. “Just tell him that I know he has done all that he could. That...that this is not his fault.”

  Cora’s eyes crinkled at the corners with emotion. “Yes, miss,” she murmured gently.

  She supposed even a new maid had heard enough gossip in this house to have at least some idea of why she was leaving.

  Of whom she was fleeing.

  Cora nibbled on her lip as her gaze flickered toward the open window, where sounds from the party below were drifting in.

  Tonight’s dinner party marked the perfect opportunity for her escape. With this winter weather, none of the guests would venture outside, and her father and his loyal servants would be too distracted with entertaining to notice that she had slipped away. Plus, there was the fact that this was the one and only occasion since their return to England that her fiancé was unable to attend, holding her hostage at his side as she introduced him to her family and friends.

  She doubted any of them truly believed his tale of love at first sight when they’d come across each other during her tour of the continent with Jacob, but no one was rude enough to say so aloud.

  And besides, it hardly mattered if anyone believed the ludicrous fairy tale that Mr. Stallworth wove about their first meeting. All that truly mattered was the story he’d told her father.

  The tall tale about how she’d been compromised.

  Her brother had believed her, but when it was her word versus Mr. Stallworth’s, her father had chosen the family’s good reputation over her future happiness.

  Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so shocked at her father’s opinion on the matter. He’d raised her and Jacob to believe that appearances were what mattered most.

  Evelyn had just never understood that her father had meant appearances mattered more than anything...including her.

  She swallowed down another wave of emotions. These days she was hard-pressed to say whether the choking sensation in her throat was caused by tears of hurt or anger. They were so closely intertwined it was impossible to separate them.

  “Perhaps if you were to wait until Mr. Jacob returns,” Cora started.

  “I cannot wait, Cora,” she said. Perhaps it was the resignation in her voice that had the maid clamping her lips shut to cut off any further protest.

  Evelyn was glad for the silence. If she were being honest, she desperately wished that there was some other way out of this mess that was her engagement. Running away wasn’t exactly her favorite option. But Jacob had tried for weeks to change her father’s mind, to no avail. Even their new acquaintance the Earl of Everly and his friends had attempted to reason with him, but it seemed the harder they tried, the more obstinate he became.

  She turned back to the window.

  And so it had come to this. Running away. Her reputation would be ruined, but at least she would have her life back. She would not have to face a future beside a cruel, power-hungry knave like Stallworth.

  No, she would just be alone.

  Her eyes grew alarmingly wet and she blinked away the tears of self-pity as she turned her back on Cora. She leaned over the windowsill just as shrill female laughter pierced the air. She’d left the ladies in the drawing room when the men had gone off with her father to his smoking room.

  A smile tugged at Evelyn’s lips. This was the moment she’d been waiting for.

&nb
sp; The women were entertaining themselves, no doubt they’d already forgotten that she’d excused herself to use the washroom. They were likely relishing this opportunity to talk about her and her scandal-ridden engagement. Or no…

  Her smile grew rueful. Perhaps for once she would not be the subject of gossip this evening. Not when the new Earl of Darling was in attendance with his sister.

  Men’s laughter came from another section of the house, closer to her room, joined by the foul scent of cigars. Darling would be there with her father and his cronies if he hadn’t fled yet after all the backhanded comments and whispers that had transpired over dinner.

  She said a silent thank you to the newcomer for having taken some of the attention off of her for one night, at least. Though it wasn’t as though he’d set out to help her. On the contrary, she couldn’t imagine any man would actually wish to have words like beast and murderer whispered along with his name.

  A pang of sympathy gave her pause as she reached the windowsill. It seemed almost churlish for a hostess to leave her own dinner party when newcomers were there and most likely in need of a welcoming smile and a polite word.

  It wasn’t as though her father would extend that kindness. Her father had been horrified to discover that the earldom had been inherited by an “uncouth boor” like Darius Haven, the new Earl of Darling.

  What is this country coming to if a military brute like him can become an earl?

  From the way her father had spoken of the man, she’d half expected a fur-covered beast with claws to enter their dining room this evening, but that was not the case.

  Darling was not beastly in appearance, just...broad. Broad shoulders, broad chest...even broad features, with a square jaw and a flat nose that looked as though it had been broken more than once in this lifetime. His sandy-colored hair was shorn neatly, and his clothes were clearly fitted by the best tailor. His eyes were the only feature that made her think perhaps there was some credit to those rumors about his cruel nature. Not that he was unkind to her, but his eyes did seem rather cold. They held flecks of ice in their startlingly blue depths.

  The moment those icy eyes had connected with hers… That was the unsettling moment as she’d greeted him and his pretty blonde sister. The sister had responded cordially, while Darling’s responses were more like grunts than words.

  But aside from his lack of elocution, he was hardly the terrifying creature he’d been made out to be. True, those whispers of “murderer” and “monster” were unsettling, but if her mother had taught her anything it was that even the most scandal-ridden guests deserved a young lady’s hospitality.

  Charity begins at home, her mother would say.

  She sighed heavily as she realized that if her mother were watching her from heaven, she would have been disappointed in the way she’d left Darling and his sister to fend for themselves.

  Evelyn smothered a nervous laugh as she risked another peek over the edge of the window. No, there were many things her mother would not have approved of this evening. Leaving a new earl and his sister to fend for themselves among the snide gossips of the ton was hardly her worst fault.

  She bit her lip. Her mother would have been horrified to find she’d run away.

  She shook off the thought. But her mother was no longer here, she’d died years ago, and her mother wouldn’t have wanted to marry a cruel manipulative monster like Stallworth either so...needs must, and all that.

  Besides… She braced herself against the edge of the window as she sat on the sill. She’d already made up her mind. She’d spent days racking her brain for any other option and had decided that this was the best course forward. There was no use dithering over the decision now.

  It was a good plan, she told herself as she braced herself against the cold night air.

  Well, it was a plan.

  In truth, it was the only plan she could think of now that her wedding was looming mere weeks away.

  She straightened the edges of her cloak and pulled up her hood, as she flashed Cora one last brave smile and lifted a leg to straddle the windowsill.

  She might not have much left to her, but she had her pride and a lifetime of decorum and good breeding ingrained in her. As such she managed to keep her ankles covered as Cora assisted her out the window and onto the ledge.

  “Don’t forget to shut the window, Cora, so my father does not know how I slipped away.”

  She nodded. “Good luck to you, Miss Evelyn.”

  Evelyn smiled. “And you, Cora.”

  She kept her spine straight and her chin lifted high as she navigated the awkward and unfamiliar task of lowering herself over the edge.

  After all. She might not have much left to her name...but she was still every inch the lady.

  Chapter Two

  Darius Rutland, Earl of Darling, gave a grunt of annoyance as he shoved the thick red curtain away from his face so he could take a swig of his drink. The curtain seemed to have a mind of its own as it clung to his arm and partially hid him from view from the rest of the room.

  It wasn’t as though he were intentionally hiding when he’d found this spot where he could bide his time before he made excuses for himself and his sister and got them far away from this pit of vipers as quickly as his coach could carry them.

  True men did not hide. Former lieutenants in the king’s army? They wouldn’t dream of it. And as for newly named earls…?

  Well, Darius supposed it was an earl’s prerogative to study his peers from the sidelines.

  Peers. He just barely held back a scoff at the thought as he eyed the roomful of titled dandies who were smoking their cigars and drinking their brandies, and talking about people he did not know and politics he cared little about.

  Soft. That’s how he’d describe them. In their bodies, their practices, and in their minds. No discipline and even less honor.

  He still couldn’t grasp what he was doing here amongst this crowd. Him. An earl. It felt like some cruel trick.

  A dream come true, his sister Tabetha had said.

  He eyed the men around him who’d been snubbing him all night long.

  More like a nightmare come to life.

  A small handful of gentlemen grouped together to his left burst out in a laugh that made him tense. A few of these men had been tossing back drinks like his youngest sister devoured the sweets he brought home for her.

  Which was to say, with zero restraint.

  When the group to his right shifted, their smoke swirling in their wake, he moved away to avoid the noxious odor that was making his head throb. As he shifted, the blasted curtain tried to swallow him whole again and he batted it away when it brushed his nose.

  “But honestly,” one of the men to his left was saying. His voice rose and carried over the sound of the others. “Where did he come from?”

  Darius tensed, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tightening as something dark and dangerous coiled inside him, always at the ready for a fight.

  Beast. Monster. Those whispers weren’t wrong.

  “What of those rumors that he’s a murderer?” One of the other men asked, his voice was a stage whisper. The sort one might hear all the way at the back of a music hall.

  Murderer. Now there was one name that wasn’t accurate.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched at the familiar surge of pain. Regret.

  Not entirely accurate, at least.

  That first man, the one who didn’t even pretend to whisper, laughed too loudly, forgetting entirely, no doubt, that the man they were discussing was here with them tonight. Even if he was hidden.

  “All I want to know is, how on earth did a man like him inherit an earldom?” The man’s tone was filled with mockery as his friends laughed. “Honestly. How many men had to die for that man to become earl?”

  Darius’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his glass of brandy and tried for control. “Keep your mouth shut and everything will be just fine,” Tabetha had said with a pat on his shoulder when they’d firs
t arrived.

  Mouth shut.

  He arched his neck to the side to ease the tension as the men beside him brayed like donkeys, their laughter jabbing like a sharp, glowing fire iron to his temper.

  He should keep his mouth shut. Mouth shut. Keep your mouth shut—

  “Six.” His voice boomed louder than intended and he watched with some amusement as the men to his left who’d been laughing at his expense stiffened and paled as he strode out from where he’d been...biding his time.

  Not hiding.

  In two long strides he was standing before the fool who’d opened his big, loud mouth, his friends scattering like weeds as they stammered excuses and apologies. The toad before him was so pale he looked like he might faint.

  The thought made Darius smile and, in turn, the man before him turned a ghostly shade of white.

  “I-I b-beg your pardon?” the man said.

  “Six.” Darius cracked his knuckles, enjoying himself now, probably more than he ought. Tabetha would definitely not approve.

  “We’re trying to fit in,” she’d say when she gave him an inevitable lecture on the way home.

  Fitting in. That was all Tabetha had ever wanted. As for him…?

  Well, he had no illusions about the type of man he was. The type of man they thought him to be. But it was the thought of Tabetha—of all three of his sisters—that had him taking a deep, calming breath, and stopping short before he could make the other man cry from fear.

  “S-six what, my lord?” the man asked.

  Darius relaxed his posture, forcing his muscles to unclench as he let his cruel smile fade to something far more civilized. “You asked how many men had to die for someone like me to become earl,” he reminded him. “The answer is six.”

  It was the truth and it sounded no less ludicrous saying it aloud now than it had the first time he’d done the math. All six heirs had died in rapid succession, leading to Darius inheriting the title. Now he spelled it out for the nameless coward who was all but sniveling before him. He started with the very natural and expected death of the penultimate earl, who’d been wrinkled, and grey, and hovering at death’s door for years. More tragically, his grown son followed suit not two months later in a hunting accident. Then there was the very sad tragedy of the sickness that had killed off another two in rapid succession, brothers, followed by a shipwreck that no one could have foreseen.