Earl of Darby: (Once Upon a Widow #4) (Wicked Earls’ Club Round 2)

by Aubrey Wynne

  “Nathaniel informed me before he left that your mother has taken her share of responsibility for the tragedy. You should know what has been said, and what is the truth, before you hear any exaggerations.”

  “The truth?” A disquiet settled over the room as Hannah studied her aunt’s face.

  “Yes, and the beginning is the best place to start.” She pushed back from the table, resettled the cap on her head, and placed her hands in her lap. “Did you know your mother was first pursued by your uncle? My oldest brother?”

  Hannah shook her head.

  “It never reached a formal betrothal before his accident, so many did not know. My oldest brother was not as handsome as your father. He was a rigid man and good with figures. The estate prospered under his care.” She paused.

  “He would have made a good husband for your mother. She had certain expectations, and he would have fulfilled them. It may not have been a love match, but the marriage would have been successful in many other ways. They were…compatible.”

  “And my mother and father were not?”

  Aunt Bertie pursed her lips then let out a heavy sigh. “No, I’m afraid not. Your father was never raised to take on the title, and he had no head for accounts or the running of an estate. He was a generous soul, to be sure, and tended to give away money to help the tenants rather than make the estate prosperous to benefit everyone.

  “Your mother was captivated by his looks and easy charm at first. She thought herself the luckiest of women, winning the most handsome man of the season along with a prosperous estate and other holdings. But it didn’t last long.”

  “Nathaniel remembered them getting along before I was born,” added Hannah. “She was beautiful back then, he said, smiling often and even laughing.”

  Aunt Bertie nodded. “Yes, but then one bad investment after another emptied the coffers. Lady Pendleton would rant and rave at him, sending him from the house. He stayed away for longer and longer intervals to escape her constant criticism. As he was seen more in town, the gossip began. Your mother was cast as a sharp tongue, driving her husband away, pushing him into the arms of others. It wasn’t true of course. Your father was a social creature and a natural flirt. But tongues wagged.”

  “My poor mother,” exclaimed Hannah. “No wonder she avoids the Town.”

  “One of the loudest voices was Lady Darby. She had always carried a torch for your father and had never let go of her jealousy toward your mother.”

  “Mattie’s mother?” Hannah gasped. “She and my mother are enemies?”

  “I wouldn’t go to that extreme, but they are certainly not friends.”

  “The last time my brother went home to Pendleton Place, there was a terrible argument. Your mother said things she didn’t mean, and he was finally worn down. Escaping to London, he found comfort in the arms of a countess. A wicked woman who had been trying to seduce your father for a year. They were caught, and…”

  “Challenged to a duel,” finished Hannah. “Oh, my. That’s quite a tale.”

  “Yes, and in your mother’s defense, she wished with all her heart she could have taken back her words. Your father was a disappointment to her but she did care for him. I believe that with all my heart. He just could never be the man she needed, so both of them were miserable together.”

  “How tragic. It explains so much, though.” She looked at Aunt Bertie. “But Nathaniel has done what Father could not. I’m sure he’s smiling down on us now.”

  Aunt Bertie shrugged. “He had help. Without your estate manager, Maxwell, he may well have floundered too. Your brother was only twelve when he inherited the title.”

  Hannah shook her head. “He was born to be Viscount. He inherited the best of both our parents.

  “Both of you have. My brother would be so proud of his children.”

  Hannah wiped at her eyes and accepted the hug from her aunt. “Thank you for telling me. If I hear any whispers, I will keep my head high and ignore them. But what of Lady Darby? Why would she agree to assist with my coming out?”

  “Guilt, perhaps, hoping to make amends. I’ve accepted that olive branch, so don’t give it another thought.” She smiled and tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “Now, tell me of Lord Darby and your waltz last night.”

  Hannah studied her cuff, picking at a thread. “There’s nothing to tell. We danced, it was lovely, and then it was over.”

  “It seemed a bit more than that. I swear he wasn’t going to let you go!” She beamed at her niece. “Not that I blame him. Who could resist you?”

  Hannah blushed. “You are prejudiced, Aunt, and I thank you for it. But I fear the earl reminds me too much of my own father. We are not suited.” Hannah paused, resuming her attention to the loose thread on her cuff. “I heard some girls talking after the waltz. They spoke of his mistresses. His present one is married, you know.”

  Aunt Bertie nodded. “I see. Many men have mistresses before they are betrothed. It…simplifies things for them. Many men also keep them afterward. It all depends on the man.”

  “I don’t care since I’m not interested. Nathaniel has warned me away from him. I think it’s good advice, though I will continue to enjoy his company.”

  “As you will,” Aunt Bertie said, “but remember, people are not always as they seem. I suspect there is much more to Lord Darby than he allows us to see.”

  The rest of the afternoon was spent making plans for the upcoming holiday. There were mince pies being prepared in the kitchen, a masquerade over the weekend, and countless invitations to go through. Aunt Bertie helped her decide which requests to accept and which to decline.

  As she snuggled under the heavy counterpane that night, watching the snow fall against the window, she replayed the waltz over in her mind. It had been dizzying bliss. It had been shocking. It had been exactly what she’d hoped for when she had dreamed of her first waltz. But it had not been Gideon who sent her heart racing and made her mouth go dry. Lord Darby was quite the opposite in coloring and disposition. Hannah hadn’t wanted the music to end, and it seemed Lord Darby had not wanted it to end either.

  She thought of her time so far in London and what she had discovered about herself and others. Mattie had seemed a timid girl when they’d first met, but her friend had a quiet competence that kept Hannah grounded. Aunt Bertie had revealed that Hannah’s mother had not been the victim she’d been led to believe all her life.

  Her attraction to Gideon had faded quickly in the bright lights of London, and his reserved character had been changed by his love for another. Perhaps Darby was not quite the uncaring rake after all. Perhaps he presented the face he needed to, in order to cope with the horrific hand that he’d been dealt. No, she decided, there would be no quick judgments anymore. People were much more complicated than Hannah had ever realized.

  Chapter Eight

  “Variety's the very spice of life, that gives it all its flavour.”

  “The Timepiece” The Task, II, 1785, lines 606–7

  Pendleton townhouse

  Mid-December 1819

  “Oh, yes! Let’s play Feather Shuttlecock!” cried Mattie. “Who has a feather?”

  They were gathered at the Pendleton townhouse. The faces of the other guests were familiar, and Hannah was beginning to recognize people during their shopping outings or rides in Hyde Park. Tonight, a baronet, his wife, and two daughters were among the added members of their group.

  Lady Roberta pulled one from her turban. “And I have more where that came from,” she said. bobbing her head with a giggle.

  The group stood in the center of the drawing room and formed a circle. The baron’s wife began by placing the peacock feather on her palm and blowing it toward her husband. He blew at it, turning red in the face, but it went toward the center. His daughter ran forward, crouched below as it fell, and blew it toward Hannah. She stepped forward and blew it at Nicholas.

  As Nicholas watched her lips pucker and form an O, his pulse raced. He watched as the feather
went straight up into the air and back toward that delectable mouth. Desire pounded him like a hard beating in the ring. Then the blasted feather hit him in the face and fell to the ground.

  “First one out must pour me a drink,” called out the baron. “I’m happy not to be the first one out for a change.”

  Nicholas obliged and then settled back in the chair, watching the game progress. He decided he preferred being a spectator. From this view, Hannah’s backside was presented to him, and every time she bent or twisted…

  “I see you, Lord Darby,” said Lady Roberta with a titter. “Not that I blame you.”

  She sat down next to him and watched the remaining players with him. It was down to the girls and they were laughing and blowing the poor feather every which way.

  “I beg your pardon,” Nicholas admitted with a grin. “Or her pardon.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were becoming quite fond of our Hannah.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “But of course, we all know Darby has no interest in a wife. He only cares for meaningless flirtations.”

  Nicholas cleared his throat. “So true, ma’am. So true.” He would let this dog lie.

  “And we both know that’s a clanker. You may sham yourself, but I didn’t cut my eye teeth yesterday.” She leaned closer. “If it makes a difference, I think she’s quite taken with you. Of course, she’s also pretending she’s not. Two peas in a pod, both of you.”

  With that, Lady Roberta walked away and left Nicholas with his mouth open. Feather Shuttlecock ended, and Mattie called out for music. Hannah took a seat at the pianoforte, her skill on the keys no longer a secret.

  “Shall we begin practicing for Christmas?” she asked. Everyone murmured agreement and she began with “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.”

  Nicholas watched her fingers lightly stroke the ivories, her head swaying to the rhythm of the song. Dark honey curls fell from a chignon and gently caressed her slender neck. As she played, voices joined in, and without thought, he began to hum. It had been years since he’d sung a holiday melody. It lightened his heart a bit, and his eyes caught Hannah’s. She smiled at him as she continued to play and sing with the group. His stomach knotted.

  She could break your heart.

  The piece of stone in his chest would shatter and never be mended. Or could she patch it up? Save what’s left of it? Miss Pendleton was haunting his dreams now. He would wake in a sweat, hard and aching, with her face before his eyes. He tried to blame it on the fact he’d dismissed his mistress.

  The song ended, and Mattie called out a request. “If you please, ‘God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen’ with Nicholas singing the verses and the rest of us taking the chorus.”

  He jerked at the mention of his name and the urging of the group. “I’ll agree only if my sister accompanies me on the harp.” Nicholas enjoyed her blush, and they both went to the corner room where the harp stood. Hannah left the piano to join the others. Would he remember the lyrics? It had been so long.

  With the first strum of the harp strings, the words came back to him. He had a deep baritone that lent to this particular song well. As he took the air in and sang another verse, he felt her eyes on him.

  She had a faint smile on her face as she watched him, and surprise in her eyes, he thought, at his voice. Her gaze sent heat rushing from his chest to his groin, and he found himself enjoying the moment. The holiday song, a beautiful woman’s lingering gaze, wondering if it were possible to fall in love again. To trust another woman. If it were, it would be Miss Hannah Pendleton.

  Hannah listened to the resonant tones as Darby sang the carol. It was perfect for his deep timbre. He looked so handsome, so golden and perfect as he stood next to Mattie and sang the lyrics. His voice sent a warmth through her that made her knees weak and her heart race.

  She had studied him over the last week since Almack’s. There was so much more beneath that polished exterior. She’d seen pain in his eyes, quickly covered with indifference. Her heart longed to soothe him, her affections growing after each encounter, despite her inner objections. Despite the warnings of her brother and the insensitive gossips.

  “Bravo!” Aunt Bertie clapped enthusiastically. “Another, we beg you for one more.”

  Darby shook his head, and Mattie deferred to Hannah. “Miss Pendleton is much more capable than I.”

  “I will play as long as I have the sheet music.” Hannah moved back to the bench and was pleased when Darby followed her.

  “I’ll be happy to turn the page for you, my lady.” He gave her a bow and a wink, which sent her stomach into a flutter.

  Hannah began the opening notes of “Deck the Halls” and sucked in a breath as the earl leaned over her, ready to flip the page. His breath feathered her hair and sent a shiver down her arms. What would his lips feel like against her skin? His cheek against hers? Stop it! Oh, she was a wanton woman with such thoughts. Her cheeks burned with the indecent thoughts and she was thankful when the song ended.

  “Are you well?” he whispered close to her ear. A masculine scent, leather and musk with a hint of vanilla, lingered on his skin. “You look flushed.”

  Hannah looked up and those eyes, such a soft clear blue, seemed to see right through her. Right through to her heart. He lifted a hand; his knuckles moved toward her cheek and then froze. Their gazes locked. A dull throb began low in her belly, spreading and thudding inside her. Horsefeathers! How she wanted him to kiss her. Had he really almost touched her?

  “A game of whist, anyone?” called out Aunt Bertie.

  The moment was broken. When Hannah looked at her aunt, she smiled and raised an eyebrow. Piffle! She saw it.

  The baron and his wife declined as did Darby. Hannah decided she couldn’t concentrate on the game and joined the others by the fireplace. The younger girls and Aunt Bertie sat a table and began the game.

  “Miss Pendleton, would you care to take a turn around the room?” The earl was smiling, the dimple deepening as the smile grew. “I believe a bit of exercise would do us both good.”

  “A splendid idea,” she agreed and took his hand to rise. As they strolled about the long room, he asked about her thoughts on various subjects.

  It seemed they enjoyed some of the same authors, though Darby was not fond of poetry. His favorite color was blue, not fashionable he knew, but one couldn’t help that. He relished a good boxing match, she liked to fish, and they both enjoyed horseback riding. He loved the city, she loved the country, and neither could bring the other to change their opinion.

  “Do you have a favorite vegetable?” Darby asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll tell you I only eat them drowned in butter.”

  “Oh my, what a waste of a good vegetable. I do not have a preference, but I hate cardoons and only tolerate broccoli.” She giggled. “And what is your choice of dessert?”

  “I’m not much for sweetmeats or that sort of thing. I prefer the sweetness of a female to that of a baked good.”

  “Flummery! I’m learning to see through you already.” She laughed. “I saw you sneak a second chocolate tart last week at the Fenley’s.”

  “I have been found out.” He placed his hand over hers as they turned. “Christmas is coming upon us. Will you stay in Town or return to Pendleton Place?”

  “I couldn’t imagine not being home. And now with my sister-in-law Eliza and my young niece Althea, I wouldn’t miss it. The caroling and mistletoe—”

  “Mistletoe?” He stopped and turned to face her. “You have been caught under the ball?”

  Those eyes, pinning her to the spot, shone with…need? Desire? “Why, yes. J-just chaste kisses, of course.”

  “Another first I would have liked to claim.”

  His gaze and words weakened her limbs, and when she thought her knees would give out, he turned and resumed their walk. What was she to think of that? Well, she could do the same.

  “What traditions does your family have for the holiday?” she asked, thankful her voice was steady.<
br />
  “I don’t celebrate the day anymore. It has…” He paused then cleared his throat. “My mother and sister do the usual things, but my parents never enjoyed Christmas as some did.”

  “Oh, you should come to Pendleton Place. We celebrate from Christmas Eve until Twelfth Night. I wager I could change your mind.” She’d seen the anguish in his eyes. Mattie had told her December was a melancholy month for her brother. Perhaps she could change that. If he did something out of the ordinary, come to the country, he would have new memories for the month instead of focusing on the sad events of the past.

  “I couldn’t impose.” He nodded to his sister, who waved from across the room. “I believe the whist game has come to an end.”

  “Do not change the subject,” she insisted. “I believe some time in the country would be good for you. I know Nathaniel would welcome his good friend.”

  * * *

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I must agree with Hannah,” added Aunt Bertie. “You would be a welcome addition, indeed. Or are you afraid you might enjoy yourself?”

  Hannah laughed at the challenge. “The gauntlet has been thrown down.”

  “Well, in that case, I will consider it.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Why has government been instituted at all? Because the passions of man will not conform to the dictates of reason and justice without constraint.”

  Alexander Hamilton

  St. Giles

  Mid-December 1819

  Nicholas stepped from the hackney and gave a slight nod to Walters, waiting across the street. They continued along Oxford at a quick pace toward the Rat’s Nest, past the last of the private residences and public houses, their yellow sandstone structures lit with the soft glimmer of candlelight through the window panes. Gin houses, for the working man or wayward gentleman, and slash houses, frequented by thieves and prostitutes, soon replaced the private homes and respectable public houses.