A Wicked Earl she can't Resist: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Olivia Bennet

His eyes told her that this was far from the happy news he was trying to pass it off as. That only increased her sense of trepidation.

  “Who is it?” she tried to smile back to reassure him.

  “Mr. Blackmore. He is a well-to-do merchant from the city. You will be going to London at last, my dear.” His voice rose at the end as if to fool her and disguise his distress as excitement.

  She had not cared for the manner in which the man had looked at her, even less for how he spoke. He was no gentleman.

  “What if I have no interest in marrying Mr. Blackmore, Father?”

  He just looked away. That was when she knew that he had even less choice in this than she did.

  Chapter 2

  The Earl of Sulby took a deep breath before walking into his London townhouse. Duncan Kingsley was a man of many talents. He had managed to grow the fortune his late father had left him by making shrewd business decisions without getting his hands dirty in the daily miasma that was commerce. He dealt with the big picture and left the details to his highly intuitive steward, Stephen Julius.

  Negotiating international treaties was a lot easier than wrangling his three children who seemed to grow ever wilder as each day passed. He did not know if it was a consequence of age or simply the absence of their late mother.

  He sighed, his heart sinking with despair. Children needed a mother to nurture them, he knew that. But he was not ready to entrust his heart or his life to another woman. Marrying for convenience was not something he would consider because he knew himself too well. He could not live with a woman, have her warm and soft in his bed, and not become mawkish about her. It was an unfortunate side effect of having grown up under the influence of his dear mother who filled his head with the joys of love.

  As a child the words of Charles Perrault’s Cendrillon ou la petite pantoufle de verre in its original French had lulled him to sleep. He dreamed of being the prince that would find the glass slipper and sweep Cinderella off her feet. His distant father could not hope to compete with his mother’s influence; nor her sentimental nature or head for business.

  “Papa!”

  He braced himself for impact and a moment later was hit in the stomach by a mass of blonde hair and sticky hands. He put his hands around his twins, smiling indulgently. He had only been away overnight and so there really was no need for his children to be throwing themselves at him as if he had come back from war.

  He was not complaining though.

  Looking up, he saw his first born, Nancy, standing by the stairs, her mouth pursed, arms crossed. The smile fell from his face as they regarded each other. Of all three of his children, Nancy was the one that was changed the most by their mother’s death. She was angry and resentful and Duncan missed her smile. He did not think he’d seen her smile in years. It saddened his heart immeasurably.

  “Nancy, how are you?”

  She huffed. “You need to speak with the governess. She lets them run amok all the time,” she indicated her brother and sister. “She has no idea how to control them.”

  Nancy’s complaints about a governess were not new to him. Every single one he’d brought was found lacking by his elder daughter although the twins were a bit more accepting.

  “Papa, did you bring us anything?” Anne piped up from within the circle of his arms.

  He looked down at her and smiled. “I’m sorry, pumpkin. I did not have time to–”

  The twins didn’t let him finish before erupting in moans of protest.

  “You never have time for us!” Harry complained, tugging at his shirt.

  Duncan quirked an eyebrow. “I have time for you now.”

  The twins immediately let go of him and ran off. He looked after them with a sigh and a shake of his head before his eyes met Nancy’s again and he smiled ruefully. Her brow furrowed in response and she put her leg on the stairs.

  Talk to her now before you lose her forever.

  The voice seemed to come out of nowhere and startled him slightly. “Wait,” he said with urgency.

  Nancy paused, one foot on the bottom step and looked toward him.

  “I…would like to have a discussion about the governess if you have some time.”

  His meek tone seemed to do the trick because she removed her leg from the bottom step and turned to face him, taking a deep breath. He forestalled her no doubt comprehensive tirade by lifting his hand. “I am exhausted from my journey. Can we retire to my study and have a drink together?”

  She hesitated a moment before nodding. He sighed inwardly as he led the way to his study, wondering what the key was that would unlock her unhappiness and enable her to smile again. Whatever it was, he suspected that he did not have it.

  He held the door open for her and she stepped in, still frowning. Crossing to the tray that held his bottles of brandy, whisky, and wine, he poured her a glass of wine before filling his snifter with brandy. He handed her the glass of wine before attempting to toast. She ignored his toast as she took a sip.

  “Well then, Nancy. Tell me what the matter is with the new governess.”

  “Well, for one thing, she treats me like a child!”

  Duncan suppressed a smile. “I suppose, to her, five-and-ten is barely out of the schoolroom.”

  Nancy scoffed, “I shall be coming out in two years! Furthermore, I’m the only mother Anne and Harry have known since they were four.”

  Duncan did not want to demur although he liked to think that he had not placed that burden on his oldest daughter. When Jane had tragically died, he had tried his best to shield his children not only from the effects of losing a mother but also the reason why they had. There was nobody to blame really, but he had tried to introduce a bill in parliament to regulate the sale and use of opium although he did not get very far. It was the only thing he could do to mitigate the sense of helplessness that permeated his being when Jane had become an opium eater and it subsequently killed her.

  The guilt was crippling.

  He felt as if he was answerable for the fact that his children were motherless. Sometimes, he was quite sure that Nancy held him responsible too. If she did, he could not blame her, but he just wanted her to be happy again. He remembered the early days when she was a babe. He and Jane had been so happy together, young and carefree. They had met at her coming out ball–it was love at first sight–two years later, they were married.

  They had been so filled with the certainty of youth with just a year separating them in age. Jane had fallen pregnant within three months and on his one-and-twentieth year of life, he had become a father.

  It had been the greatest joy of his life and he had felt as if he could not be more in love with his family. Unfortunately, time and commitments drove a rift between them that just seemed to get wider with every overseas trip Duncan had to take, every time he missed an anniversary in favor of securing a new business agreement…he had thought that they had plenty of time. That once the children’s futures were well secured, he would stay home more and they would recapture the magic of the early days of their marriage.

  Unfortunately, life had other plans.

  “Nancy dear, would you like us to speak to the governess together? I am sure if we expressed our concerns in a polite manner she would be amenable to making adjustments.”

  “No! She has to go, Father. The twins are ten years old now. They can go away to school. They spend too much time together in any case. Harry can go to Eton and Anne can attend charm school in Switzerland. She is running amok and needs to be reined in. Somebody has to teach her to be a lady and she does not listen to me.”

  This wasn’t the first time Nancy had come to him with this argument. Every time they lost a governess, she tried to get him to send the twins away. She did not understand that he could not stand to have his children far from him. He had very little time with them as it was; he was not about to make it even more impossible for himself to do that.

  “No, Nancy. I do not believe that is the right course of action.”
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br />   She huffed in annoyance, crossing her arms. “Well then…” she stamped her foot and stormed toward the door.

  “Nancy!”

  She hesitated but did not turn around to face him. Instead she flung the door open and stormed out. Duncan collapsed in his chair and closed his eyes in despair.

  Even without waiting to be told to do so, Mrs. Climes had packed her bags. The twins had informed him that they had seen the governess walk into her chambers and find the broken vase. Her shoulders had slumped in defeat as if she knew her time was up.

  The vase had pride of place in the children’s nursery. When their mother was alive, she used to pick flowers every single day and fill the vase so that her children had something beautiful to look at as they learned their letters and languages.

  They did treasure that vase. It was one of the last remaining relics of their mother they had.

  Duncan did not blame her at all if it was an accident. But he knew from her mien that she had not done it.

  He had seen for himself the myriad of pieces in which the vase lay on her floor. The helpless look in her eye. She knew there was no way that she could prove that she had not broken it. Duncan knew that Mrs. Climes was a very careful person. That was not the issue, he knew.

  She had left the pieces as she found them, picked up her bags and walked down the stairs. It was early evening which meant that they were sitting down to their supper. Mrs. Climes put her bags down at the foot of the stairs, they heard her request that a footman call her a hackney carriage.

  Then she walked to the dining room and knocked softly on the open door. Having been expecting her since the twins had rushed in–late–to the dining hall and explained why, Duncan sighed with resignation. How was he to reassure the governess that she was welcome when someone was clearly out to subvert her?

  “Yes, Mrs. Climes, can I help you with something?”

  She shook her head. “No, My Lord. I simply wanted to inform you that I have placed my letter of resignation on your desk.”

  “May I ask why?”

  Her gaze traveled over all three children before she met his eyes. “I am unable to work where I am not wanted.”

  The Earl sighed. “Will you not reconsider Mrs. Climes?”

  She shook her head sadly, “I wish I could My Lord. But I fear that it is just a matter of time before things come to a head. The only way to avoid that is to leave now.”

  The Earl got to his feet. “At least let me give you your last wages.”

  Mrs. Climes nodded with evident relief.

  Duncan sat in his chair and took the drink his valet handed him. He relaxed into the wing chair, and closed his eyes as Roberts began to rub his jawline with soap in preparation for shaving his stubble. As soon as Roberts began to apply the razor, Duncan made sure to stay absolutely still. He trusted his valet but he did not want to risk being accidentally decapitated by moving at the wrong moment.

  The room was silent aside from Roberts’ quiet humming. He liked to do so as he worked, said it helped him focus. Duncan also suspected that the humming was meant to soothe him into a sense of security so that he did not feel the need to move. If so, it definitely worked.

  It did not stop him from thinking though.

  Another governess had left them. Which meant that if he did not want to give in to Nancy’s demands, he would have to find another one soon. It was becoming embarrassing to have to walk into the agency every time and request yet another young lady to tutor his children.

  Maybe next time I should try retaining an old woman. That might make the difference.

  He was willing to try anything if it might result in his retaining a permanent employee.

  Or maybe I should let the children pick.

  He almost perked up at the thought before remembering that he was under a very sharp blade. He subsided, still wondering if that was the solution. Before she…became ill with the opium, Jane used to read to the kids in the school room. She would play with them and take them for long walks in nature, naming all the flowers and leaves and trees. The children had adored her and they had learned almost in spite of themselves.

  When he was home, Duncan would sometimes join them. They would walk in Hyde Park before settling under the trees for a picnic. In those times, he had felt as if nothing could ever touch his family. Nothing could ever destroy the bond they shared. They were invincible.

  He would smile over at Jane and she would smile back and everything would be perfect. After the picnic, the children would nap on the blankets while Duncan and Jane held hands and spoke quietly to each other. It was moments like those that Duncan knew great happiness.

  Knowing full well how rare and special it was for them to have married for love, he wanted to make sure his daughters had that same chance. He thought the way to do that was to ensure that their dowries were substantial enough for them to pick and choose. Everything he did, was with his family in mind.

  So it was doubly a blow when he arrived home early from a business trip to find Jane stumbling in, a flush on her face, her pale pink gown slightly askew. She had looked at him with such guilt as he narrowed his eyes at her. He had not wanted to know, but he had had to. He pressed her, until she gave in and confessed.

  His knees had buckled as she told him of her affair.

  Chapter 3

  Arthur Fletcher carried two buckets of slop to feed the pigs and the horse. His head was pounding even though he had not indulged as much as usual last night. He suspected it had something to do with the stress of feeling as if an anvil hung over his head, suspended by the thinnest string and ready to crush him at any minute.

  He could not stop thinking about Laurence Blackmore and his bizarre proposal. He poured the slop in the pig pens before trudging to the stables to rake some hay for their dray horse. He had long ago sold his couch and four in service of his gambling debts but the dray horse was useful for pulling the wagon when going to market as well as plowing the field.

  Once the horse was fed, he headed back to the house, his head hanging, long hair falling over his eyes. He was startled to see booted feet in front of him and stopped short, lifting his head. Laurence Blackmore stood in front of him, hands on hips and a smarmy smile on his face.

  “Good day to you, Mr. Fletcher. I come with good news.” he said jauntily.

  Arthur’s heart sunk. “Is that so? And pray tell, what news is that?”

  Blackmore’s smile widened. “I have concluded my business in town and so it is time to collect my bride and leave. Did you manage to speak with her?” he announced, arms spread wide and magnanimous.

  Arthur shook his head, avoiding Blackmore’s eyes. He had told Emily of her impending engagement but had not had the heart to say more. “I…”

  Blackmore’s countenance darkened. “I hope that you did because I am here to take her with me.”

  Arthur’s eyes widened in shock. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Your daughter,” Blackmore repeated as if he was deaf, “the one I am to marry? She will come with me to London and we shall be wed before the month is out.”

  Arthur was silent for a long time. Blackmore simply stood there, staring unblinking at him.

  “D-do you mean it?”

  “Of course! I am a man of my word.”

  Arthur thought about his business, practically on its last legs. He thought of his farm, emptied of everything that could be sold. If his debt was cancelled, he would be able to use the profits from his imports to jump start the business again. He could return to respectability. Furthermore, Blackmore was a well-to-do gentleman with many business holdings.

  All I have to do is convince Emily of that.

  “I-I-I must speak with her alone,” he said.

  Blackmore inclined his head in acquiescence. “Go ahead, but make it fast. I mean to take tomorrow’s stagecoach back to London.”

  “Oh! But Emily cannot travel alone with you.”

  Blackmore frowned. “What do you take me for? Of course I h
ave brought a chaperone.”

  “You…brought a chaperone with you? Why? Were you here to search for a wife?”

  Blackmore’s eyes slid away from Arthur as he laughed. “No, no. But it just so happens that I brought my maid with me. She traveled with me as her kin live around here and there was a funeral she wished to attend. As I am a benevolent employer, I let her come with me. She will make an appropriate companion and chaperone for Miss Fletcher until I can secure a marriage license.”

  Arthur opened his mouth to utter further protest, but Blackmore lifted a hand to forestall him. “I know that in the normal course of events, the father settles a dowry upon his daughter at a time like this. I am willing to forego this, in addition to forgiving your debt. I would say those are very generous terms, don’t you?”