The Redemption of Lord Rawlings

by Rachel Van Dyken

  The man paled and then looked as if he would be sick. Taking off his spectacles, he rubbed his eyes and cursed under his breath. “My lord, forgive me, but I’ve already been through this earlier today with your mother. Regardless of her feelings on your marriage, all properties and monies are in your name and—”

  “What in the blazes was my mother doing here?”

  Littman sighed. “Every month your mother makes her appearance for the allowance allotted to her by the late Lord Rawlings, bless his soul. And to be frank, Rawlings, I tire of her constantly asking for more. Today she claimed to have your blessing. But law is law, and I am not able to release any of your money into her care regardless of how much she may need it.”

  Phillip’s cravat seemed to tighten around his neck. “My apologies for never visiting before now, but can we get along with the contract my father left?”

  Littman cleared his throat. “I do not pretend to know what your mother may have said to you, my lord, but there is no contract.”

  “My apologies, a will perhaps?”

  Rubbing his jaw, Littman suddenly looked as if he might be very ill indeed. “My lord, let us make it easier on one another. What is it that you are actually here for?”

  Rawlings, still perplexed, shifted on the wooden chair before letting out an exasperated sigh. “I’m here to see to my inheritance, the inheritance I was told would come to me once I married. Though as you know, my father made it so I needed to be married before my next birthday. I am in fact getting married soon, therefore I would like to release everything into my own name and hurry along with it, if you don’t mind.”

  Littman rose from his chair and walked over to the door, pushing it closed. He pulled a cheroot from his pocket and lit it. “My lord, who read your father’s will to you?”

  “I received my father’s dying wishes in a letter sent from the country estate. He hadn’t even said goodbye or that parting would be such sorrow for him. Merely that he tired of my rakish ways and was withholding all properties and money until I married. He also said that I was officially cut off until the terms of the contract were met. I wrote back to my stepmother immediately and she confirmed it in truth.”

  “Well…” Littman chuckled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “It seems someone has been trying very hard to deceive you. Allow me to read to you, the terms of the inheritance as per your father’s death.”

  “The title of the Earl of Rawlings will officially be relinquished to my son, Phillip Crawford. Upon my death, he shall receive all the money from the lands owned in the Rawlings’ good name, as well as the four separate estates located throughout England. He will be allotted a generous monthly allowance until his thirtieth birthday, upon that day he will receive the sum of all his inheritance in full.”

  Rather stunned, Phillip could only sit slack-jawed at what had just been said to him. “I never needed to marry?”

  “No, my lord, it appears, you’ve been quite wealthy this entire time. Though, I’m curious as to why your stepmother never told you. You see, each monthly visit she is to bring your family ring to show to me that she has your permission to withdraw on her funds. Your father was very specific about you being in charge of her allowance.”

  “My stepmother,” Phillip choked. “She has known of this since his death?”

  Littman laughed. “My dear boy, she was with me when I read the will. Of course she knows. It appears however, that you did not. Tell me, why didn’t you visit to see for yourself, my lord? I did, after all, inquire as to your location only to receive nothing from you in response. I had something of a personal matter to discuss with you regarding your father.”

  Bitterness, anger, and hurt over his father's commands, and finally a grief over the loss of the man he never cared to know in his later years washed over him like a dense fog. Gripping the chair, he found words would not flow from his mouth. But to admit that, out loud, in front of his solicitor was not the place to visit the horrendous memories of his past. How had he been so blind? His stepmother cared nothing for him; he had almost made it too easy for the woman to control him the way she had.

  “Proceed, then.” Phillip said.

  “A letter, from your father.”

  A letter? What could he possibly have written? “May I see it?”

  “Of course.” Littman pulled a worn envelope from his desk and handed it to Phillip. “I’ll just give you a moment.” He left the room.

  Hands trembling, Phillip ran his fingers over the rough paper. Taking a breath, he opened the envelope and pulled the letter out. His father’s handwriting was scratchy and shaky, revealing to Phillip yet again the state of his father’s health when he had been away soiling the family name.

  Son, there wasn’t enough time. Words cannot express the regrets I have in the way I raised you and John. I ask you forgive me for my rashness and firm hand in your upbringing, for I fear it has made you believe I haven’t a care for you as a person. Yet my heart is heavy with sadness as I write this. For you, Phillip, are my flesh and blood. I am truly very proud of you and know without a doubt that you will soon discover the strength within yourself to be the man I’ve always known you could become.

  I know you’ve a mind for numbers. I pray that the inheritance I leave you grows to astonishing sums. And please be kind to your many tenants. They rely on you for everything. It is a large job, which is why I ask that you visit each of the estates as much as you are able.

  Phillip, I know you might think me cruel for not saying all of these things until now. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive this old man his many sins. I do hope you will remember me for my more redeeming qualities.

  Signed,

  George S Crawford,

  Seventh Earl of Rawlings

  Phillip wasn’t aware that his eyes were filled with tears until one splashed onto the yellowed parchment. Gathering himself, he folded the letter into his pocket and sat for a few minutes in silence.

  How many years since his father’s death? At least five. Five years that the estates have gone without a lord. He hadn’t seen any reason to attend any of them since he didn’t legally own them, or at least he hadn’t thought he did.

  So many musings jumbled his brain. First, he needed to put a stop to his stepmother, and second it was imperative that he visit the estates. He prayed they were still in good condition. Not to be found with starving tenants and angry servants.

  The door clicked open.

  “Littman, from here on out would you please cease to give my mother her allowance unless I am with her? Have the money transferred immediately into my possession, and if it isn’t too much to ask, please keep this meeting to yourself.”

  “Of course, my lord, very good.”

  With a curse, Phillip left the room, slamming the door behind him. All those years, wasted. Good years, times he could have been actively making something of his life rather than complaining over his bad luck.

  Had bitterness really made him that blind?

  As he made his way down the street to his carriage, the only thought in his head was not of his wealth or his mother’s betrayal, but of Abby’s face.

  He didn’t need to get married after all.

  And so it was that Phillip was faced with a similar situation as to the one before with Emma. Break the marriage contract and ruin the girl because of selfish ambition, or marry her, for the woman she was, not for what she would have given him.

  The thought haunted him the entire way home.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Quick! Did you hear it? Yes, it does appear that the world is ending. From this author’s quill to your ears. Remember where you heard this first. It appears that the rake of the century is not as impoverished as once believed. In fact, he could support half the ton and still live quite comfortably in one of his four estates. Something devious this way comes, for the earl himself was not aware of his situation until today. It seems the devil has been a pawn in a much larger game than any of us c
ould have imagined. But never fear, dear readers! This author will get to the bottom of this scandal. Or my name isn’t Mrs. Peabody. But then again, it never was…

  —Mrs. Peabody’s Society Papers

  Abby hadn’t slept a wink that night. Betrothed to Rawlings, not because of her manipulative skills. No. But because her dress had been caught under a blasted table and he thought her trying to flaunt her better—assets.

  Ridiculous notion, as if tugging on her dress would lure him away from the debutantes fluttering about.

  With a very unlady-like squeal, she jumped from her bed to ready herself for the day. Rawlings would be arriving after his talk with her father. Lord Gates would die before letting such an opportunity pass him by. Imagine. One daughter is a duchess and the next a countess. What more could the man want? Other than for his daughters to be blindingly happy. Unfortunately, she knew her father too well for that to be a reason. A title and wealth were all he required.

  She put on an afternoon dress for visiting because she hated to come back to her room to change out of her morning dress. And it appeared she had overslept by a few hours. Could anyone blame her? They hadn’t returned from the ball until an hour after midnight, and it had taken her even longer to fall asleep, for the memory of Rawlings’ lips burned in her mind. Tossing and turning, she nearly had her entire wedding planned by the time sleep claimed her.

  Unable to keep her composure much longer without bursting, she ran down the stairs in search of Sebastian or at least her sister. She had so much good news she thought she might burst from the joy of it.

  “Abby?” Emma’s voice sounded odd, thickened by emotion perhaps? Or maybe sleep? “Abby, would you come here please?”

  She followed her sister’s voice to Sebastian’s study. She often spent time with the duke reading, while he sent out letters to various important people. It seemed they could not stand being apart for more than a few moments.

  “Yes?” Nearly slamming into the wall because she lost her footing, Abigail’s answer came out more as a yell than the soft-spoken speech women of gentle breeding were told to use.

  “Have a seat, dearest,” Emma patted next to her and sniffled. Was she crying?

  Slowly, Abigail walked to where Emma sat and plopped down next to her. Emma fumbled with her dress until Abigail thought she might go insane.

  “Has something happened? Is Sebastian well?”

  “Oh.” Emma looked flustered. “Yes, yes of course he is well. All is well, how are you?” She leaned in, looking Abigail up and down. She half expected her sister to ask her to get up and twirl so she could inspect her.

  “Perfectly fine. Why shouldn’t I be?” Abigail giggled.

  “Oh dear.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It is not nothing! For the love of all that is holy, stop twittering with your dress and staring at me as if I have three heads. Spit it out, Emma.”

  Laughter echoed off the streets, drifting through the nearby window, which was open to the goings on of the bustling world. Abigail waited, for Emma was always one to calculate her thoughts before speaking them aloud, making anyone within her vicinity ready to go mad with rage after a few silent moments. It seemed Sebastian’s training had helped. Abigail looked helplessly at her sister, who squeezed her eyes shut and, with a curse, punched the pillow next to her.

  “Should I get Sebastian? You do not seem well.” Abigail moved toward the door.

  “No, wait!” Emma grabbed her. “Have you heard from Rawlings at all today?”

  Abigail shrugged. “I imagine he’s still with Father.”

  “He isn’t.”

  “How do you know? After all, calling hours won’t be for a while, and I can’t imagine him showing up so early just to gain my hand.”

  “But he did.”

  Abigail smiled. “But that’s fantastic news! And has Father accepted?”

  “Sister, how much do you know of Phillip’s situation?”

  It was Abigail’s turn to play with the ribbon on her dress. “As much as anyone else, I supposed. He needs to marry for money, his debt is unimaginable, and his stepmother is a complete monster.”

  “Oh, I cannot do this. I really cannot do this. I told Sebastian earlier that there was no way I could have this type of conversation with my sister and what does he do? He runs off to chase after Rawlings!”

  “Chase?” Abigail laughed. “Whatever do you mean chase? Rawlings lives only a few doors down.”

  “He’s gone, Abby. I’m so sorry but he’s left.”

  “Sebastian?”

  Emma’s eyes pooled with tears, her lower lip quivered as she bit down on it. “No, it appears Phillip has left town. Nobody knows why but his mother. Oh, Abby, I don’t know what to believe. His mother is spreading the most terrible news. She is saying that he only needed to be betrothed to release the money to his care. And when she went to the solicitor there was nothing left. He only needed a betrothal to obtain the money, Abby. It’s gone, and so is he.”

  Abigail’s stomach heaved. He wouldn’t, no he couldn’t. He loved her. Hadn’t he said as much last night? Last night when he was seducing her out of her mind? When he was gaining her hand in marriage?

  “I don’t believe you.” Abigail pushed away from her sister. Arms trembling, she wrapped them around her stomach offering little comfort to her thumping heart. “If it was true, he would have married anyone. A girl off the street. He wouldn’t have been as desperate as he was. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Then you need to hear the worst part of the news. I’m afraid that Lady Rawlings is also saying that it was an act to get back at our family.”

  “For what?”

  “For my disgrace.”

  “How would she know about you? How would anyone know?” Her voice rose and her chest was heavy with fear. She wanted to run but didn’t know in what direction. “Emma, does everyone know about the broken marriage contract between you and Rawlings?”

  It was then that Emma burst into tears. “It was time. We kept it quiet for so long. It was time, Abby. I have Sebastian. Who cares about the stupid marriage contract?”

  Rawlings had at one point been betrothed to Emma but ripped up the marriage contract upon finding her in a compromising situation with his half-brother. Never mind that the half-brother’s intent was to rape her sister. The entire thing had been a cover-up so that the Gates’ family name would stay away from ruin, so that Rawlings could be free to live the life he’d always wanted. A life free of contracts, marriages, and obligations.

  But hadn’t he changed? He wasn’t the same man? Was everything some giant scheme to get Abigail too?

  “Forgive me, but, Abby, has he…” Emma looked away, tears rolling down her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “Has he ruined you, fully, in the way that—”

  “Stop!” Abigail’s voice sounded foreign, broken. “No, he would never—we would never.” Could a heart stop beating? Was it possible to be so overjoyed in one minute and nearing death’s door the next? Abigail tried to still her breath, but she found the harder she tried, the harder it was to breathe. Bending over, she grasped the back of the chair. As the last part of her breath hitched in her chest, black boots came into view. Was she falling? And then she was lifted, as if floating on a cloud. Was she dying? Was this how her short life would end? Without ever knowing a man, but knowing the pain of loving something so much it killed a person? Had she not learned her lesson?

  Warm hands cupped her face. A voice man’s voice echoed in the distance. And then as her eyes closed she saw Rawlings’ face. She wanted to hate him, to spit at him, but she could do nothing but cry. Warm salty tears plastered her cheeks and blurred her vision when she tried to open her eyes again until she thought she would wish for death. The man she loved, the only man she had loved—was gone. And he had her bleeding heart with him. Why did she hear voices? Why couldn’t she open her eyes? And then a sharp pain struck her head. Everything went black.

&nbs
p; In her dreams he kissed her, made love to her, as much as she could imagine considering she was still a virgin, and then he would kiss her face and laugh. She was always too slow to catch up to him, her legs weren’t fast enough. And then she was back home again, he was helping her onto his horse. But the next minute he was mocking her while he kissed and grabbed at another woman.

  “No!” Abigail’s screams were real, they were coming out of her mouth, but she could only see darkness. And then a hand braced her.

  Abigail shot up from her bed in a panic and looked around the room. Darkness had descended into her bedroom. Her eyes adjusted to the black slowly. The fire crackled across the room. Lifting a shaky hand to her head she realized it was bandaged.

  “What?” Abigail felt around the bandages. Heavens, why was her head bandaged? The last thing she remembered before the nightmare was fainting. Had she hit something?

  “Oh goodness, you’re awake!” Emma rushed into the room. “I’ve been so worried. You’ve been sleeping all day, dearest.”

  “I don’t understand?”

  “You fainted. I wasn’t fast enough to catch you. The table broke your fall. You hit your head so hard, there was blood everywhere. I didn’t…” Emma began softly crying into her hands. “Sebastian arrived just in time. The doctor, of course, said you would recover, but oh I just– I cannot imagine anything happening to you.”

  Abigail nodded. “And Rawlings?”

  Emma froze. Abigail watched her sister's breath hitch. “Still missing it seems. Though Sebastian said one of the servants mentioned he had arrived at the house to pack a few things before taking off. He was in a true rush, Abigail. I’m sorry. It also appears that the rumors are getting worse. We’ve had our fair share of afternoon callers in hopes to gain information about your betrothal. Father isn’t aware of the situation just yet, and I don’t know what to say. I cannot keep turning people away. It makes everything look worse. And poor Sebastian wants to murder him.”