An Earl for the Broken-Hearted Duchess

by Lucinda Nelson

  “Such a shame.”

  “Didn’t your husband win quite the sum from him?”

  It didn’t take him long to put the pieces together.

  Gambling.

  He was broke. And when Nathaniel finally found him, he could see why. He was sat playing cards with a large group of men.

  They’d all taken their jackets off and had dire expressions. None so dire as the Duke’s. He was losing, as Nathaniel was sure he often did.

  He didn’t have any money to invest. And even if he had, could Nathaniel trust such a man?

  Nathaniel excused himself without speaking to the Duke.

  London was his last hope.

  With a bleak, heavy feeling in his chest, he rode for London.

  ***

  “You mean to say that it was struck by lightning… and burnt down… just as it was established?”

  The Marquis of Trimble looked almost amused by the notion. Half amused, half aghast.

  Nathaniel confirmed the information with a nod.

  “Now that is quite the story, isn’t it? What awful luck!”

  “Yes, so you see we need investors to-”

  “My darling!” The Marquis interjected, calling for his wife. “Do come hear this story. It’s quite remarkable.”

  “Do tell,” she replied and sauntered over to take a seat beside her husband.

  “I am sure you won’t believe it. This gentleman has just told me that the schoolhouse he has just built in Comptonshire-”

  “Comptonshire!” She interrupted. “Oh, I do love Comptonshire. Dear Olivia lives there.”

  “Yes,” the Marquis said. “And the schoolhouse that was just built – barely in its infancy – has been burnt to the ground.”

  “No! How terrible!”

  “Now guess how it was burnt.”

  “Oh my dear, I don’t know. Arson?”

  Her answer thrilled her husband, who shook his head, beaming. “Try again.”

  She thought for a moment. “The schoolbooks too close to the fire?”

  Nathaniel felt his temples start to throb. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take of this.

  “Try again.”

  “A forest fire?”

  “It is Comptonshire, my love.”

  She nodded, with a thoughtful expression. “I give up.”

  “Lightning!” The Marquis exclaimed.

  “Oh, what poor luck!”

  “Awful luck!”

  “Yes, terrible luck,” Nathaniel interjected, in a rushed and tight voice. If he had to hear them say it was poor luck once more, he’d throw himself out the window. “But with some investment-”

  The Marquis cut him off with a surprised face. “Investment? Good sir, don’t you think it’s about time you gave up? God is trying to tell you something. This schoolhouse was never meant to be.”

  Beside him, his wife was nodding vigorously. “Yes, yes. You mustn’t ignore the signs, my Lord.”

  Nathaniel’s lips were parted… his jaw slack. And he just stared at them. When he spoke, his words tumbled out like a stutter. He sounded almost like a child. “But I-”

  “Oh my love, he seems terribly upset. We know that you must have put a great deal of yourself into this venture, but it was not to be, my Lord,” The Marquis’ wife said.

  “Yes, dear chap, why don’t you settle down and get married? Focus your attention somewhere more useful.”

  Nathaniel’s features started to twist. He was barely containing an onslaught of emotion. “More useful?”

  “Why yes! You are an earl, are you not? And very much in need of an heir, if you do not already have one.”

  They sounded like his parents.

  Nathaniel found himself standing. The pair of them blinked up at him dumbly. “Then you will not invest?”

  The Marquis was shocked by his abrupt tone. “Certainly not,” he said, with less cheerfulness. “And believe me, son, it is for your own good.”

  Nathaniel almost bit their heads off. But instead, he gave a curt nod. “Then I will take my leave. Good day.”

  He did not wait for their answers.

  When he stepped out into the courtyard, the air was crisp and cold on his cheeks, but it couldn’t cool the icy feeling swallowing up his heart.

  For a moment, just a single moment, he thought of Margaret. He hadn’t allowed himself to think of her in so long. But right now, he needed someone. Someone to tell him it was going to be okay.

  When his horse was brought for him, he realized what was ahead of him at the end of the ride. A village full of children, mothers, and fathers. A village full of people stricken with poverty… who he’d disappointed.

  He mounted his horse. And rode.

  When he arrived, it was so late and he was so tired that he could barely stand. He went to bed, but couldn’t sleep despite the bone-deep exhaustion.

  It was dread that kept him awake. That kept him from feeling any semblance of peace. Dread and shame.

  He didn’t know how he’d show his face the next day. He’d been gone for three days and he knew that everyone had been waiting on his return. Waiting on the answer to all their problems.

  The truth was thick in his mouth when he approached the town hall the next morning. He was meant to be meeting with the town officials, to make an announcement to the villagers.

  He knew what he looked like. Purple rings under his eyes. Stubble on his jaw. His face looked sallow and defeated.

  What could he say to them?

  I have no money left. No patron. No chance.

  I am sorry.

  It was the best he could do, but it wasn’t nearly enough. As he stepped into town hall, he saw a woman wiping dark soot from underneath her young son’s eyes.

  The boy’s clothes were covered in it. He couldn’t have been older than Ezra. Nathaniel wondered what work he’d been doing to get himself so covered in soot.

  He’d imagined this kind of boy inhabiting his schoolhouse. Getting an education. Getting prospects. The school was going to a hub for families like that. A place of comfort, where they could have food and provisions.

  The town hall was full, though it felt empty to him. There was a hustle and bustle of noise, but he didn’t hear any words.

  He stepped up to the stand, but the officials weren’t there. It was just him. Had they abandoned him to deliver this message alone? He supposed that was rather like them.

  “Nathaniel.” It was Clark. Nathaniel turned his head to look at him. “God, you look awful.”

  “I thank you for that,” Nathaniel replied, tiredly and sarcastically.

  “Wipe that sullen look off your face. What more do you have to be sad about?” He clapped his hands over Nathaniel’s shoulders and gave him a light shake. “Wake up and listen. Look around you.”

  He tried to. He opened his eyes and looked at the villagers. None of them were waiting. They appeared to be leaving. “Where are they going?” He wondered.

  “To the schoolhouse!”

  Then he noticed something else.

  They were smiling.

  Nathaniel looked confused. Dazed. He looked at his friend again. “What’s going on?”

  “What?” Clark frowned at him. “You should know. You’re responsible. You found the patron.”

  Everything felt a little unreal. Like he was in a dream. “No… no, Clark, I didn’t. That’s what I’ve come to say.”

  “Have you gone mad? Of course you have. They’ve already started rebuilding.”

  This felt like a slap across the face. At first, he couldn’t process it. But when it sank in, his countenance sharpened. When he spoke again, his voice had more power behind it. “What did you say?”

  “I said your patron is having the schoolhouse rebuilt. They started this morning.”

  In one swift move, Nathaniel pushed past his friend and walked – no, ran – out of the town hall. By the time he hit the village courtyard, he was sprinting.

  So hard and fast that it was just a matte
r of moments before he skidded to a halt outside the remains of the schoolhouse.

  The ash had been cleared away… and in its wake there were men, laying the foundations anew.

  His heart was in his throat. He knew how he must look. Standing with eyes full of tears, gawping at the men as they went about their work. He felt someone clap him on the back and congratulate him. And another. And another.

  He looked around himself for answers, feeling dizzy with shock. Everything was spinning. Spinning. Spinning.

  And then he saw her.

  Miss Wilde was standing with her back to him. He recognized her by the fall of her strawberry blonde hair. And over her delicate shoulder, he saw a face he thought he’d never see again.

  Her brows were a little furrowed, but she was smiling. A sympathetic, kind smile. She was holding Miss Wilde’s hand and Nathaniel could see her lips – those perfect rosy lips he’d missed so much – moving.

  She was saying something, but he could hear nothing. Not the sound of the men working. Not the chatter of happy voices.

  She swallowed up his every sense.

  Margaret.

  Chapter 35

  Lady Margaret Abigail Baxter, Duchess of Lowe

  She thought she heard her name, but it was muffled by the sound of Miss Wilde’s frantic chattering.

  “Thank you so much. Oh God, we’ll never be able to repay you for this. Never.”

  “Margaret.” She heard it again, but this time she looked up.

  Her heart stopped beating for an instant. Because there he was. Nathaniel Sterling.

  She’d thought about this. About what it would feel like to see him again after the time they’d spent apart. It had felt like forever. He hadn’t approached her. He was just standing there, a few steps behind Miss Wilde. Staring, as if she was a ghost.

  But he was the one who looked ghostly. Sick even and so very, very tired.

  Her heart pounded back to life. She squeezed Miss Wilde’s hand one last time and smiled at her. “I see Mr. Bennet over there,” Margaret interjected.

  The girl seemed fond of Clark Bennet, and perhaps he could keep her distracted while Margaret spoke to Nathaniel. The man Miss Wilde was likely to marry one day.

  “Nathaniel,” she said and closed the distance between them in a few short strides. Her hand lifted. An instinct to cup his face.

  To feel that he was here, truly real, in front of her. But she didn’t. Her hand dropped back to her side as she remembered that this man wasn’t hers.

  “Why have you come?” He breathed, barely above a whisper.

  Margaret looked down at her hands, then at the schoolhouse. “I heard about the school. I am so sorry, Nathaniel.”

  “But why have you come?” He pressed, in a harder voice.

  She looked at him. Did he not want her here? Why did he look so terrified, as if she was about to bite him? “I… I had hoped to help. To… to-”

  “To offer patronage, Nathaniel,” Clark said, from beside her. Miss Wilde stood next to him, silent at last. “I thought you had asked her.”

  Margaret’s cheeks began to grow pinker.

  “He did not ask me,” Margaret said, when Nathaniel said nothing. He was still just staring at her for such a long time that Clark put his hand on his shoulder.

  “My friend… are you alright?”

  Epilogue

  Lord Nathaniel Sterling, Earl of Comptonshire

  Something seemed to happen to Nathaniel then. The breath rushed out of him in a huge gust. His shoulders deflated and his arms reached out.

  He took sudden hold of her. Right there. Outside the schoolhouse, in front of everyone.

  He gripped her tight. So tight that it knocked the air out of her. She could feel his breaths like little shivers against her cheek. “You have come. Truly, you have,” he whispered beside her ear.

  At that, Clark and Miss Wilde stepped away quietly.

  And Margaret lifted her hands. She cupped the back of his head and held him to her carefully. “Of course I have come,” she murmured. “My dear, dear friend.” And truly, he was her friend.

  Friendship had always been the foundation of what they’d had. And even if she never fell out of love with him, she would always treat him as her friend.

  His torso was quivering, but he was holding tears at bay. Margaret slid a look around them and gently pulled free. “Come this way,” she said, and ushered him towards the little forest path to the left of the schoolhouse.

  It was the path they’d walked down many a time, to get to and from the estate.

  It gave them a little more privacy. Once they were sheltered by the trees, she took hold of his hands and tried to catch his eye with hers. “Look at me, Nathaniel.”

  He did. And his eyes were so bright and bloodshot.

  “You look so unwell.”

  “I have needed you so,” he croaked.

  Margaret blinked and her heart gave a loud kick in her chest. It was… difficult to hear. Because it undid months of time spent trying to get over him.

  She looked down at their hands and knew she should let go of him, but she couldn’t. “It is my honor to be a patron for this school.”

  He started shaking his head. “No. I didn’t need your money. I needed you, Margaret. You and you alone.”

  What was happening?

  She forced herself to let go of his hands. They felt burnt by him. “You mustn’t say these things, Nathaniel. Miss Wilde-” She couldn’t finish her sentence.

  It hurt too much to say it. To remind him and herself that he belonged to someone else.

  “Miss Wilde?” He blurted. “What of her?”

  “Please don’t toy with me, Nathaniel,” she said, as she shook her head and closed her eyes. If she could just shut out his face. His tenderness. His need. If she could just do that, it would all be okay.

  But he took hold of her hands again and gripped them. He was so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. “Is that why you left?” His eyes were wider. “Because you… you think that Miss Wilde and I-”

  “I have seen you together Nathaniel.”

  “What?” He looked truly taken aback. Then it seemed to dawn on him. “Was it Tessa that told you this?”

  Margaret did not answer and that was answer enough.

  Suddenly, he clutched at her. He moved his hands up her arms and held her close by her shoulders, as if he meant to squeeze her into his chest, to live inside his heart forever. “Oh my darling, please do not tell me you believed her. Do not tell me that.”

  Margaret’s eyes started to pour out tears.

  He put his forehead against hers. “You believed her. But why? Why, when she lied about all else would that have been the truth? Why did you not ask me?”

  A soft sob rose in her throat. It was a question she hadn’t wanted to address. But as he spoke, it rushed out of her. The truth she hadn’t wanted to face. “Because I was afraid,” she stuttered through crying. “That it was true. I didn’t want to hear you say it was true.”

  Nathaniel tipped his head back against his shoulders and looked up at the sky. She saw that his jaw was trembling.

  He looked back down at her and said, “Is that why you left, Margaret? Please, be truthful with me. For once, let us be truly open. No more secrets.”

  She was shaking her head, over and over. It was too hard to put herself on the line. Too hard. He didn’t understand.

  “Have you nothing to say? Will you not give me honesty, Margaret?”

  “I can’t,” she cried. “It is too much.”

  “Then let me. Let me speak my truth so that you might speak yours. I don’t care anymore. I have protected myself at the cost of you and I for too long. I have held my tongue when I should have asked you about the Marquis. I have assumed the worst of you when I should have hunted the truth down. Margaret,” he squeezed her, so that she would look up at him.

  And when she did, his eyes were so deep and real that she felt real hers
elf, for the first time in months. “Margaret, I love you. You and only you.”

  I love you.

  I love you.

  I love you.