by Dawn Brower
What she hated to admit…he was right. If they were at the same school, or even one within a reasonable distance from each other, they’d have run away. Chris was still tempted to daily. If not for her frequent letters from Carly, she might have. Her twin was the more sensible one and had convinced Chris to stay at finishing school until the end.
The end had not come soon enough…
She had to suffer through another sennight, and then she could return home. Not that she considered the duke’s residence home. For her, home would always be at Seville. The ancestral estate belonged to Damon once he was old enough to take control of his inheritance. Until then, Chris had to suffer through the duke’s generosity. That was the lot a woman had to undergo in life. She had little choices, and the ones she did have, she hated. Marriage was the last thing she wanted. Chris wanted to be free. Unfortunately, freedom wasn’t one of those choices she had before her.
Perhaps it was time to redefine what a lady could or could not do. Finishing school had taught her a lot. All of it nonsense in her opinion, but it had done one important thing. It had showed her what she didn’t want from life. Though she probably could have learned those lessons anywhere. Finishing school had been her punishment, and she had stayed and endured it. Chris wasn’t certain she could remain at Miss Agatha’s for one more day, or through one more night of seclusion. The headmistress hated her, and had hated her from the moment she’d stepped foot on the school grounds. So much so, Chris had to wonder exactly what the duke had told Miss Agatha about her.
She frowned.
Chris doubted her new brother by marriage would have said anything negative. At least not intentionally… So why did Lady Agatha hate her? She smiled. Not one of those serene tilts of her lips, but one of the wicked ones. She had a sennight left. Why not cause a stir on her way out the door…or more precisely…in the next hour or two? She would not stay in her chambers one second longer. There really was no reason to continue following the rules. Not that she ever really did, but that was beside the point.
She turned away from the window and surveyed her room. The personal items inside had been limited…one of Miss Agatha’s rules. Chris had exactly three gowns. All serviceable without any frills. That part didn’t particularly bother Chris. She didn’t need fancy gowns, but because she could be contrary, she…disliked being told she couldn’t have a pretty dress.
Packing wouldn’t take long. She retrieved her valise and stuffed her two clean dresses inside followed by the stack of letters she’d received from her sisters. Carly wrote her the most, but Billie and Teddy sent letters too…even if the two of them were enamored with their husbands and expanding families. Billie was expecting her first child soon, and Teddy probably wouldn’t be far behind her in that endeavor. It sickened Chris a little when she thought about it. She adored her family, but she had no desire to have one of her own. Somehow, she doubted that would ever change.
Once everything was gathered, she slipped out of her chambers and tiptoed down the stairs, then exited through the back entrance. The sun had already started to set. She would use the darkness to hide her escape. The pin money Graystone had sent her over the several months she’d been at school would help her on this adventure. She had everything she would possibly need.
The sound of voices echoed back to her…a male and a female were talking in hushed tones. They were up ahead and that made them directly in the middle of her route. Drat… She’d have to circle back and go the long way around. When she heard her name, she stopped to listen.
“How has the fair Christiana been?” a man asked.
Chris wrinkled her nose. Who was that? She froze and leaned against the wall when she realized who was there…the Marquess of Foxworth. What was he doing at Miss Agatha’s school? Part of her wanted to march up to him and smack him on principle alone. She loathed that man, and it couldn’t be good he was at her school. She may not know what he was up to, but she was certain it couldn’t be good. Her heart beat heavily inside her chest and heat flooded her cheeks. Chris clenched her fists, but somehow managed to refrain from acting on her worst impulses.
“Lady Christiana is doing well,” Miss Agatha said. “I’ve done as you asked and kept an eye on her. You were right. She’s trouble.”
She rolled her eyes. That woman wouldn’t know true trouble if it landed at her feet. Clearly, she was an imbecile. Did she not know that the marquess was the worst sort of rake? Even she’d heard the tales, and she hadn’t been launched in society yet. Though, to be fair, Chris had done a little sleuthing to discover every little bit of information available about him. After that fateful meeting in the stables, she’d been determined to see him brought low…somehow. The bloody bastard didn’t even have the wherewithal to recognize her when he’d met them at Graystone’s estate.
“I did warn you.” He sighed. “It’s too bad she cannot stay here longer. I fear the ruin she’ll bring upon her family when she returns to the fold.”
Was he the reason she’d been exiled at the school this long? Originally, she’d been set to leave three months earlier. Something had changed though, and she’d been informed she’d remain under Miss Agatha’s care longer than planned.
“I’m afraid I have stalled as long as I can. Her sister is insisting she go home. I wish I could be of more assistance.”
“Don’t agonize over it,” he said in a smooth tone. The cur could be charming when he chose to be. Not that Chris had ever experienced it personally… “You’ve taught her all you can. The rest must be left to her, I’m afraid.”
Pain seized her heart as she listened to their conversation. She had known he didn’t like her, but she hadn’t realized his hatred had run that deep.
Chris had heard enough. She’d wondered why Miss Agatha had hated her. Now she had her answer. The blasted marquess had poisoned the headmistress against her. She’d wanted to make him pay for his actions against her before—well, now her efforts must be doubled. First, though, she was going to return home.
She turned away from them and headed toward the path that ran through the woods. Walking in the dark could be cumbersome, but there was no other choice. Not if she hoped to leave Miss Agatha’s school that night anyway.
It didn’t take her long to reach the forest nearby the school. She went to the path and followed it until she was deep inside. It would be hours before anyone noticed her missing. By then, she’d have reached the town and secured a seat in the mail carriage. It would take days to reach home, but she was determined. She didn’t need the comfort of the duke’s carriage. All she needed was a way to get there, and she could certainly find that on her own.
Chris kept moving through the woods until she heard the crack of a branch. She froze. Never once had she considered someone else might be in the forest. It could be an animal of some sort…
“Please be an animal,” she muttered under her breath. “A small one preferably…”
“No jist haud on,” a man said. His Scottish brogue was thick, and Chris could barely understand him. She cursed Graystone for sending her to the highlands. It had probably been the Marquess of Foxworth’s idea. The man began speaking again, “That fancy school isn’t fae from here. We hae tae wait fae a wee bit before we go inside.”
“Dae ye think the lass will put up a fight?” his friend asked.
“Depends on the lass,” the man said. “But I expect she’ll be tae feared tae dae much fighting. The sassenach lasses are nae strong.” He whistled. “Mon, no. We need tae be back at Tior by morning.”
What girl were they there for? There were a few Scottish girls at the school, but the majority of them were English. Where was Tior, and what was it? Chris had so many questions. She slid behind a tree to hide from them, but stepped on a branch. Chris held her breath hoping they wouldn’t hear it.
“Whit was that?”
Drat. She wasn’t in luck. Still, she slid farther behind the tree and prayed they’d think she was an animal as she’d hoped they were. Chris
closed her eyes and took several slow, even breaths to still her rapidly beating heartbeat. I am not here…move along, strange Scottish men…
“Go and look,” the one man ordered.
Chris couldn’t see them, but one seemed to be in charge…older by the gruffness of his tone. His companion sounded much younger. Probably closer to her age. She couldn’t be certain without looking at them.
“Dae I have tae?” the younger one complained a little as he asked the question. If she had any doubts about his age, that pretty much told her all she needed to know about him. “It’s probably an animal.”
“We have tae be certain,” the older one replied. “Now go and dae as I told ye.”
The crunch of branches under the man’s feet was the only indication that he followed orders. He’d find her soon, but she had nowhere to go. They’d find her soon, and then what would she do? She didn’t know them and had no way of discerning their intentions. They may or may not have planned to abduct a girl from the school. Though she couldn’t ascertain any reason they would do such a thing.
“What dae we have here?” His voice was full of wonder. His face was smudged with dirt and she couldn’t tell what color his hair was. The man was younger than the other male with him, and he apparently didn’t believe in bathing. “Da, there’s a lass hiding here.” Ah…the older man was this one’s father.
“Is that so?” He chuckled. “Bring her out here.”
He reached over and snatched her wrist, then pulled her out from behind the tree. She tried to wrestle her arm free but was unsuccessful. “Let me go,” she demanded.
“Naw, I dinnae think I will,” he told her. He forced her out and nearly dragged her over to his father. She wiggled in his grasp and when that didn’t work she tried dropping to the ground with a thud.
The old man stared at her and then perused her from head to toe, then back up again. “What’s a bonnie lass like ye doing out here in the woods?” He lifted a brown. “Are ye meeting a lover?”
She snorted. As if she’d do such a thing. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“That be true,” he agreed. “But I still have tae insist. You are a hindrance in our plans.” He sounded as if he had no problem hurting her if need be. She had to find a way to convince him she wouldn’t cause any trouble. Not that she would keep to that promise, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I promise that my current situation will not cause you any difficulties. Let me go and I’ll be on my way, and not long afterward, you’ll forget you saw me.” She took a fortifying breath. “And I’ll do the same in return.”
“Is that so?” He scratched his chin. “There’s one problem with yer solution.”
“Oh?” She tilted her head. “What’s that?”
“I do believe yer the lass we’re sent to retrieve.” He grinned. The moonlight did not do him any favors. His face was smeared with dark smudges…she assumed dirt. His hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in days, maybe weeks. Chris didn’t want to get close enough to find out. “Nice of ye to make our task easier.”
Oh, hell… This plan had gone bad and fast. How was she going to escape now, and why the blazes did they wish to abduct her? She blamed the Marquess of Foxworth. Somehow this was all his fault…
* * *
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Excerpt: When an Earl Turns Wicked
Bluestockings Defying Rogues Book One
Dawn Brower
Prologue
Southington Castle, England, 1808
The day was like any other one in England. Rainfall had become a normal enough occurrence that Jonas didn’t notice it—even as it dripped down his face, drenching him completely. He stared at the chiseled stones in the cemetery near Southington’s chapel. Only members of his family were buried there—many he never met personally. Pictures of them filled the great hall, but they were history to him, and he’d been able to distance himself from their stories. This, however, was far different.
His life would never be the same. The death of his father had marked an unchangeable truth. The duke now had control over Jonas’s life. His grandfather was a tyrant and had always attempted to browbeat his will into him. His father had been the one person he’d been able to count on. A buffer the duke couldn’t break through, and he’d tried often.
So, no, the cold didn’t matter because he was numb through and through. Rain? Paltry in comparison to what he had yet to face. The Duke of Southington, his grandfather, hadn’t started yet—mainly because he couldn’t. There were people around, and he dared not cause a scene. Once all the mourners departed, things would start to unravel ever further around him. Would his grandfather allow him to return to Eton? What about his mother? Would she have it in her to fight him? Somehow, he doubted everything and yet prayed for anything resembling his life before his father’s death.
“Lord Harrington,” a man said as he rested his hand on Jonas’s shoulder. How could he be the earl now? That was his father’s name, and he doubted he’d ever become accustomed to it. “It’s time to head back.”
He glanced up at the man as the rain continued to drip down his face. His hair was black, but had already started to turn to gray along the sides. Jonas barely knew him, but Lord Coventry had been a friend of his father’s. “I’m not ready,” he told him.
“George was a good man,” Lord Coventry said. “He loved you.”
“I know,” Jonas replied woodenly. He’d long ago stopped feeling and now went through the motions. What else could he do? Lord Coventry was correct—it was long past time to go, yet he couldn’t move. Once he left, it would all become too real for him. His grandfather would start barking orders, and he had years before he could be free of him. Three long years to be exact—once he turned eighteen he could seize control of his inheritance. As long as his grandfather didn’t find a way to break the will. “But that doesn’t change anything.”
“No,” Lord Coventry agreed. “He’s still gone, and nothing will ever bring him back.”
If Jonas were capable of crying, he’d have done so days ago. It was probably a good thing he hadn’t. Any sign of weakness would have set his grandfather off. He had to be brave, and somehow find the strength to move on sooner than he’d like. His father deserved to be mourned, but he’d understand why Jonas couldn’t openly do it. “I’m ready now.” Jonas didn’t look at Lord Coventry. He spun on his heels and began the long trek back to Southington Castle. He hated his grandfather’s home—it was as cold as he was. There wasn’t anything welcoming about it.
“Lord Harrington—”
“Don’t call me that,” Jonas interrupted. The sound of his father’s title shot pain through his already aching heart. He didn’t want to think or feel. Everything reminded him of his father and the loss that he couldn’t escape. The title… That was more than he could bear.
Lord Coventry cleared his throat. “It’s who you are now.”
“That may be.” Jonas swallowed hard. “But filling my father’s shoes is something I’m not yet prepared for. I can’t hear his title without thinking of him and what I’ve lost.”
“I understand,” Coventry said and sighed. “You’re too young to have lost your father already. If I had a son…” He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. You have a long road ahead of you, and there’s probably no one you feel you can trust. You might not know it yet, but you can trust me.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “What would you like me to call you?”
“Nothing,” Jonas said. “I doubt we will see each other again after today.”
The older man laughed. It was a foreign sound, considering their surroundings. Sadness permeated everything around them, yet the earl had found something humorous. Coventry seemed like a likeable sort and in another time, Jonas may have liked him. Somehow, he doubted he’d find anything appealing or even joyous for a long time.
Coventry gestured toward the castle in the distance.
“We shall see. Come, let’s get out of this rain.”
The earl followed behind Jonas as they entered the castle. He didn’t stay long after that. He’d spoken to the duke quietly before his departure, and the duke didn’t argue or order the earl around. That alone made Jonas wonder what they’d discussed.
“Now that everyone is gone we have some things to discuss, boy.” His grandfather stormed across the room and glared down at him. “Starting with your education… I was going to keep you here, but Coventry made a good point. You’ll need to make connections, and those are rooted in school. So, I’ll allow you to return to Eton—at least for the rest of this school year. We’ll revisit that idea before the next term.”
He owed the earl far more than he realized. Never had he truly believed his grandfather would allow him to return to school. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” his grandfather said gruffly. “We have a lot of work ahead of us to prepare you for the dukedom.”
He was barely an earl, and now he had to worry about grandfather’s title? Jonas wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep for days—no, weeks. That was the cowardly way though, and he refused to give in to it. “Where is Mother?”
“She’s gone to live with her sister,” he replied. “Your mother is too delicate for Southington. Don’t worry. Your father made sure she’d be provided for.”
His mother had abandoned him? He’d always been closer to his father, but still… She left him alone with the duke, and she was well aware of his brutish nature. He had no problems using his fists to make a point. The Harrington title was prestigious, but he wouldn’t have control of the estate for many years. They had plenty of funds as long as they did what the duke wanted. His father had decided to cut as many ties as possible with Southington. They lived in a small townhouse in London, and his father had invested in a profitable shipping company with the income he had available. They didn’t live in splendor, but they’d been comfortable.