How to Train Your Earl

by Amelia Grey

  Movement from one of the players brought his attention back to the cards in his hands. He blinked his dry eyes several times to clear his vision. It had been a while since he’d spent all night playing cards and appreciating a bottle of fine brandy and female companionship. For his overindulgence, he now had a pounding throb at his temples.

  He’d already decided he was on his last shot of the morning when he sensed someone standing not too far behind him, watching his back. None of the players at the table had given whomever it was a bother of a glance, letting Zane know the person wasn’t a stranger to the small private club. He had a fairly good idea who it was—dear old Uncle Syl. Someone must have told the old bachelor Zane had made it to London.

  Sylvester Browning, his father’s next to the youngest brother, had taken it upon himself not only to be Zane’s conscience but an unsolicited advisor after his mother passed. Uncle Syl had taken up Zane’s mother’s mantra and urged him to mend his roguish ways and settle down to the quiet, respectable life of a gentleman and start a family. As if there weren’t enough well-thought-of Brownings populating England already.

  It wasn’t that Sylvester was an unlikable fellow. He wasn’t, and there had never been any harsh words between them. Zane got along reasonably well with him, except when his uncle’s hovering was irritating—like a bee that wouldn’t be swished away. The two of them had often matched words, but they were always civil. His straight-as-an-arrow uncle wouldn’t know any other way to be.

  When the last card hit the table, Zane scooped up his considerable winnings from the night, pushed back his chair, and rose while bidding his fellow gamesters a good day. He dropped the coins into his small leather pouch and cinched the opening tightly. Only then did he turn to confirm his suspicions. Not only did Sylvester wait there for him, his father’s youngest brother, Hector was there too. Zane muttered a curse to himself. Both were staring stone-faced at him, their collars and neckcloths pulled tight as their expressions.

  Uncle Hector was something of an oddity in his father’s family. Unlike the rest of the tall, powerfully fit-looking Browning men who sported thick black hair and clean-shaven faces, Hector was of average height, portly, with thinning gray hair and a bushy beard. He used a cane to help him walk and to nervously tap the floor when he was flummoxed. Sylvester, on the other hand, had all the Brownings’ handsome physical traits but wore the same stern expression whether he was happy, ill-tempered, or hungry as a goat.

  It had been a long time since more than one of Zane’s family had deemed it necessary to seek him out at the same time. He was fairly certain the last occasion was when he was set to duel a stranger who’d had the poor judgment to call him a card cheat. That early frosty morning Uncle Syl had tried desperately to intervene and convince the young blade of Zane’s expert aim and beg him to offer a public apology for the slander. There was no reasoning to be had between the two swill-headed rounders, but out of deference for his uncle’s well-intentioned pleas, Zane had only grazed the man’s shoulder with a clean shot.

  “Uncles,” Zane said with a nod, swallowing his dissatisfaction as he swung his coat off the back of the chair and dropped his coin purse into one of the side pockets.

  They bowed and said, “My lord.”

  Zane gave a near silent chuckle of derision and shrugged uncomfortably into his coat. Being addressed as a title was going to take a bit of getting used to. Especially when it was coming from family.

  Shaking off the drum of buzzing in his head, he cleared his thoughts and made eye contact with first Hector and then Sylvester. “I’ve already spoken to the dowager. My condolences to each of you and the entire family.”

  “Enough time has passed now and most everyone is getting back to normal,” Uncle Syl remarked. “We’ve been worried about you and Robert.”

  It was no wonder. Until Zane had an heir, Robert was next in line for the title.

  “We made the journey as fast as we could after hearing the news.”

  “Robert told me when he managed to get home last night,” Hector added. “I appreciate that you returned with my son. Last I’d heard, he’d joined you in Paris to attend the winter balls.”

  Hector’s son was doing a bit more than that. Robert almost married a most unsuitable woman, if Zane hadn’t stopped him—with the aid of an intriguing young lady he hadn’t yet forgotten. And oddly, he hadn’t wanted to. It was pleasing to remember the warmth of her in his arms and the taste of her on his lips. He hadn’t been able to forget the strength she’d showed in questioning and studying him before making up her mind to help him. She was sagacious and beautiful. Usually when she crossed his mind, he wondered if she were still in Paris or if she’d returned to England.

  “He’d never been to Vienna,” Zane answered, seeing no reason to elaborate on what had happened with the French woman. “That’s where your letters caught up with us. We left straightaway.”

  “Now that you’re here, there’s no time to waste. We thought it best if we joined you for your first meeting with your solicitor as Earl Blacknight,” Uncle Sylvester informed him, and then quickly added, “That is, if you don’t mind?”

  Zane would have rather waited until later in the day or even perhaps a few days before settling into his new role, but the unsmiling expressions on his uncles’ faces kept him from saying that.

  “Not at all. I have much to get caught up on. I might as well get started.” He motioned for them to precede him out the door and down the stairs.

  “After your meeting with him,” Uncle Syl said, and started down the steps first, “you’ll need to do something to calm the family.”

  “Everyone has been in a state of shock,” Hector added before following his brother out the door, but at a much slower pace. Because of his hip injury years ago, Hector was always slow descending the stairs. “There’s been no small amount of hand wringing.”

  That was understandable. Losing three family members was a terrible blow that Zane wasn’t even sure time could heal. But, he had no idea what to say to them to ease their minds, and he doubted they wanted to hear from the family rogue anyway.

  Few, if any, in Zane’s family would be happy that he was now the earl. Since his mother passed a few years ago, he was more apt to have a long stay in Paris or Vienna than to gallivant around the English countryside in summer or attend the London Season. However, he always made it home for Christmastide.

  Much to the chagrin of his family.

  Now, for the first time in several years, he was in London during the full bloom of spring.

  Zane had no memory of his father, and his fondest remembrance of his mother was how much she revered Christmas Day. She made sure everyone in her household shared her devotion as well. Church in the morning, family and neighbors around the table for a feast in the afternoon, and games of chess or cards by the fire in the evening. Some argued his paltry involvement once a year with their large and extended family should count for nothing, but Zane paid their grumblings no mind. Christmas Day with family was a code of gentlemanly honor and conduct he wouldn’t forego.

  Besides, returning home for the holiday gave his well-married sister, numerous aunts, uncles, and more cousins from both sides of the family than the King had horses, a reason to whisper and roll their eyes when he came walking into the manor as if he’d only left the day before. It also gave members of the ton an opportunity to trot their eligible daughters out for him to make their acquaintance. Which he always did. No man should ever pass on a chance to meet a young lady. It mattered not to the elite of Society that he was the black sheep of the family. He was from the house and lineage of Blacknight and all the privilege and prosperity that went with it.

  Sylvester stopped at the first landing and waited for his younger brother.

  “We’d like to suggest a dinner at your house tomorrow evening,” Uncle Syl called up to Zane. “We talked to your butler this morning, and he assured us the staff is quite capable and there will be no problem getting everything
prepared.”

  Zane grimaced. “I don’t have a butler.”

  “Of course you do,” Hector said irritably. “You have a complete household staff waiting for you at your new home; the Earl of Blacknight’s house is now yours. You need to move in immediately. It’s the proper thing to do. The dowager is moving out today.”

  “Wait a hellfire minute,” Zane said, his jaw hardening with conviction. He knew being the earl was going to involve situations he wasn’t prepared to deal with. “I don’t want her to move out of the house. Especially not at this time. She has lost her husband, son, and nephew. It’s too soon to disrupt her life.”

  “Nonsense. She knows propriety, expects this, and understands,” Uncle Syl said calmly. “She’s been planning for it. It’s your house now. She’s ready to leave and has only been waiting for you to return. I’ve made arrangements to have your personal items moved from your town house today.”

  “What?” Zane asked, biting back another oath as he started down the narrow stairs, mumbling to himself, “I’m quite capable of handling my own belongings and all of my affairs.”

  Uncle Hector stopped and tapped his cane on the stair. “You’re an earl now. You don’t need to be distracted by insignificant tasks when you have more important things to do, and there are plenty of people to handle such things for you.”

  “And it’s good you’ve made it here as the Season is beginning as well,” Sylvester added, completely ignoring any reference to Zane’s comment. “You can use my tailor. He has excellent style and will have you dressed up with all you need for the parties and balls in no time.”

  Zane had no desire to be trussed up like a preening dandy. “I’m quite set with all the clothing I need.”

  “Good. We’ve been thinking on all this while we waited for you to return. The best thing you can do to settle everyone’s frayed nerves is to show that you’re ready to settle down and take your new responsibilities seriously. We hope you will avail yourself to every moment of the Season and choose a bride. There are three young belles making their debut who should be of special interest to you. One of us will make sure you’re introduced to them at the first ball you attend.”

  Zane grunted. What did he need a bride for? He had no problems when it came to women willing to share his bed. For that reason, he stayed away from respectable young ladies of the ton. He learned early in adulthood that they were raised to assume a kiss meant a wedding would follow. It had always suited him to find his pleasure elsewhere. Doing that kept everyone safe.

  He knew nothing about being a proper earl and even less about being a husband. It was best he deal with one before considering the other.

  “Scouring the parties in search of a bride is not on the list of things I need to attend,” he stated flatly.

  “You’ll learn to manage both,” Uncle Syl said and trotted on down to the bottom of the stairs. “Men always do. Choose wisely and she will be a blessing not a curse.”

  That sounded odd coming from a man who’d never married.

  “It’s your duty now,” Uncle Hector explained. “It will prove to everyone you intend to not only be a responsible earl, but a good caretaker of the family by producing a legitimate heir.”

  “I’m quite sure I have no heirs of any kind.”

  “All the better,” Hector agreed. “After the shock we’ve all had, you must protect and preserve the title. The best way to do that is to marry a proper young miss who can give you as many sons as your grandfather had.”

  The buzzing in Zane’s head and roar in his ears returned with a vengeance. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, determined not to let his well-meaning uncles frustrate him. He couldn’t comprehend the responsibility of one son, much less five. What normal man could?

  “Blast it, Uncle, I think I should get used to the idea of being an earl before I take on such an ominous role of being a husband or a father of five.”

  “There is no time for you to dawdle about this,” Sylvester added in a decisive tone, obviously wanting to have his say in the matter as well. “The Season is upon us. Why not take advantage of it and go ahead and choose a bride?”

  “I think my time will be best spent at Blacknight. I can skip the Season and go straight there and learn what I need to know about the earldom since I’m not familiar with it.”

  Hector stopped again. His eyes narrowed, his shoulders rolled forward a little, and his chin bobbed before he started speaking. “You spent the first ten years of your life living at the estate. How can you say you aren’t familiar with it? Besides, you don’t have to be. That’s what you have solicitors, accountants, managers, and a host of other people for. You’re an earl now, and you have more than yourself to think about. You’ll best serve the family being right here in London for the greater portion of the year. This is where most of the business is conducted that concerns the title and its holdings.”

  “What Hector is also trying to tell you is that the Blacknight property and holdings are considerable. You now control the purse. The magnitude of the estate isn’t something you can learn overnight. Your cousins are afraid to spend a penny—we all are, not knowing when the next allowance will come or if it will. Your aunt Beatrice is so distraught, she’s having fainting spells. Your aunt Lorraine has developed a rash of red welts all over her face, and you didn’t even bother to let your sister know you arrived back in Town yesterday.”

  Zane grimaced. He wasn’t in the habit of letting family know his whereabouts. “How do you know that?”

  “I went to see her this morning, looking for you. She was glad to hear you’d made it back safely, by the way, but Patricia now assumes you’re upset with her.”

  “I’m not upset with anyone.” It was always the same in his family. No peace, no privacy, and no quarter ever given to him, no matter the situation.

  “Everyone’s worried you’ll be making changes,” Sylvester said flatly.

  “Changes?” Zane questioned, still trying to make sense of the fact he wasn’t going to his peaceful home for a few hours of much-needed sleep.

  “You have all the family in a dither about what kind of earl you’ll be. How generous you will be to everyone. Naturally, the whole family—nieces, nephews, cousins—are anxiously waiting to see what you’re going to do about their allowances, their houses, carriages, and what all. And there’s your mother’s family to consider as well. They’ll be wanting to hear from you as to what you plan for their futures. Our older brother was generous to your mother’s family too.”

  Somewhere in his past Zane had heard this. And the previous earl, his father’s oldest brother, had always been more than generous to him. Which was surprising since Zane had tarnished the family name on more than one occasion with his wild ways.

  “I see no reason to make changes to any of that,” he said, finally deciding to sail past Hector and join Sylvester at the bottom.

  “That should please everyone greatly for now, but it’s up to you to tell them. You can’t neglect your duty. But more importantly, you need to show them you’ve changed now that you have the title.”

  “Damnation, Uncle Hector,” Zane said irritably, his head pounding as if a hammer were slamming against both sides of it. “You are acting as if I have to do everything in one day.”

  “It would be a good start to the recovery of your reputation if you did. Spending the whole of your first night back in London at a gaming hell will not reassure the family you have their best interests at heart, or the peerage you will work with them when you need to.”

  Zane had little doubt about that, but still argued, “That’s what bachelors do.”

  “Not for you. Not anymore. Hence the need for a wife to help rein in your raffish ways, settle you down, and facilitate you being respectable and reliable to all who now look to you for protection, sustenance, and guidance.”

  “I didn’t neglect the dowager. After seeing her, was I to pay a visit to everyone in the family?”

 
“That would have been a splendid thing for you to have done.”

  The corners of Uncle Syl’s mouth tightened, and Hector’s chin bobbed as he worked his mouth. Staring at his uncles’ current agitation, Zane could only imagine the shock swirling through his tight-as-a-bow-string family that he was now the earl and in charge of everyone’s allowances, their homes, and their way of life.

  “The devil take it,” he whispered, his head continuing to throb. He hadn’t asked for this responsibility. “Make sure everyone knows I’ll be hosting dinner tomorrow evening, and I’ll listen to everyone’s concerns.”

  “Of course,” Uncle Syl said calmly, making it clear that was exactly what he wanted Zane to say. “I’ll take care of that for you.”

  “You’ll also need to start making amends for all the times you insulted half the members of Parliament,” Hector added, tapping his cane once again.

  Zane had to draw the line somewhere. “If I offended them, it was because they deserved it, and half of them weren’t members at the time.”

  “No, but their fathers were, and you knew they would be one day. It’s never too late to start making friends instead of enemies. It will serve you well.”

  “I have friends.”

  “And they are all rakehells like you.” Sylvester sniffed and pulled on the tail of his coat and lace at his cuffs. “The less you see of them, the better. They have no reason to change. You do.”

  Uncle Hector made it to the bottom and Zane grabbed his cloak off the peg near the front door. His uncles were reminding him why he spent so much time away from London. The more family you had, the more worries you had. Without deliberation, he towered over Hector, who held open the door for him.

  “I will accept my duties as the earl, Uncle, but don’t expect me to fall in line about everything you suggest or to be as pompous as most earls are. I don’t have the stomach for it.”

  “Of course you do,” Hector said without so much as a blink of his eyes. “You just don’t know it yet.”

  “Speaking of your stomach,” Sylvester added quickly, “White’s is on the way to your solicitor’s office. You could probably do with a generous plate of food and tankard of hot ale after being up all night.”