How To Catch An Earl With Ten Lies (Historical Regency Romance)

by Patricia Haverton

  “Not if it is with the right lady, Miss Chapman. Which is the point of asking if we might go walking together. Walking frequently includes talking. Talking is an excellent way to get to know each other.”

  “Pardon my bluntness,” Penelope said, “but why me? Why apply to my uncle?”

  “In truth, I did but mention to Lord Castlemount that I might be obliged to post about the countryside in search of a wife, since the season is over. He was most sympathetic to my plight and noted that he had two marriageable nieces who were still in the city and on whom I might call before going to such a great deal of trouble. One of them, he said, seemed not to be terribly interested in marriage, but that the other was fresh out of the school room and of an age to seek a desirable union.”

  Edith made a harsh, choking sound. Placing a handkerchief over her mouth and nose, she murmured something that sounded like “Pray, excuse me,” and precipitously left the room.

  “Is your sister all right?” Lord Newhorn asked. “She seems . . . agitated.”

  “As my uncle mentioned, she is not in favor of either of us getting married. I believe that Penelope would like to see us become spinsters together in our own establishment.”

  “Will your fortune sustain such an arrangement?”

  “Sadly, no. If my uncle does not marry, the title, the lands, and the income all go to a distant cousin. We will not inherit.”

  “That is harsh,” Lord Newhorn said with sympathy. “And I thought my conditions of inheritance rather bleak. At least I do have some control over the situation. It would seem that you have none at all.”

  “This is too frequently the case, Lord Newhorn. Ladies are given little choice as to their disposition. We are, as you probably well know, unable to legally manage our own monetary affairs, to own land or do business in our own name.”

  “I am aware that this is the sad case, Miss Chapman. My own sister, rest her sweet soul, was often wont to remark upon it.”

  “Your sister has passed away?”

  “A hunting accident. Her horse refused a fence and she was killed instantly.”

  “I am sorry to hear that. She sounds like someone I would enjoy meeting.”

  Lord Newhorn chuckled. “You know, I believe you would have hit it off very well. She was a neck or nothing rider and delighted in hunting. She was newly betrothed at the time of the accident.”

  “My sincere condolences,” Penelope said.

  Lord Newhorn shrugged. “It was more than nine years ago. I remember her fondly, but the immediate grief has long worn thin. But that is enough about me. Tell me a little about yourself.”

  Penelope focused on her fingers. What would Edith have said of herself in this situation? Frankly, she would have fled the room, as she had already done. “Truly, there is very little to tell. My eighteenth birthday was a little over a month ago. My uncle did not want to send us to boarding school, so my sister and I had a governess and tutors. English is my native language. I speak a little French, enough to get by on in a pinch. I can read Latin and some Greek. I embroider, but cannot abide knitting or crocheting.”

  “Tell me,” Lord Newhorn said, leaning forward, “Why is embroidery more interesting than knitting?”

  “Oh, a combination of factors. Embroidery silks are much more pleasant to touch than woolen yarn, and it is enjoyable to watch the pictures take shape. My sister does it very well, as you can see from the work she is doing over there.”

  “I do see. Yet it looks to me as if you were reading the paper when I came in?”

  Oops! Totally out of character for Edith. Well, he does not know that.

  “Indeed I was. A newspaper also has interesting stories. I like keeping up on things.”

  James tapped lightly on the door frame. Penelope turned her head, acknowledging him.

  “Miss Chapman, your sister requests you,” he said.

  Since this was the signal they had arranged for when Marpole was no longer able to be distracted, Penelope nodded to James.

  Rising, she said, “My sister is somewhat unwell this morning. Perhaps we could continue our conversation at a later time? I like to go walking out at the local park in the afternoons. I would not take it amiss for you to join me there.”

  “Of course,” said Lord Newhorn. “I would be delighted.”

  Penelope fled the room before Marpole could appear and give the show away.

  Oh, dear, oh, dear! Whatever have I done? I’ve just agreed to pretend to be my sister and walk in the park with the gentleman my uncle wishes her to marry!

  Chapter 4

  Benjamin rose, and bowed to Miss Chapman as she quickly left the room. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to see me out?” he asked the footman who stood beside the door.

  “As you wish, My Lord,” the wizened footman said. “Right this way.”

  What an odd fellow to have as a footman. He must have been in service with the family for some time.

  “Thank you for your assistance,” Benjamin said, and pressed a penny upon him by way of thanks. “Do please assure the young ladies that I will call upon them again.”

  “O’course, Lord Newhorn. I’ll be very sure to tell them. Is there any other message you would like to convey?”

  “Please let Miss Edith Chapman know that tomorrow afternoon I will be exercising my horse along the track that goes around Pinehaven Park, and that it is just the next street over.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that, m’lord. Miss Chapman is not a great horse rider, but she goes walking there often. I’ll be sure to let her know.”

  With that, the odd little footman held up Benjamin’s great coat, stretching on tiptoe to get it over his shoulders, offered him his hat, and asked, “Is there any other way that I might be of service?”

  “Not at all,” Benjamin said, a little bemused by the fellow’s forwardness. “Just be sure she knows.”

  With that, he went out the door and down the steps of the Castlemount townhouse.

  The day was beginning to be well advanced. Since this was a fashionable quarter of the town, smart buggies, curricles, and the occasional coach went up and down the street.

  It was my good fortune that Castlemount has two nieces. With the season at an end, I should have otherwise found myself traveling about the countryside in search of suitable females.

  Benjamin shook himself, scarcely believing that such a thought had run through his mind. Egad! What a callous fellow I am. What if the chit and I do not suit? What shall I do then?

  With Parliament closed for the season, and his only business a meeting later in the day, Benjamin found himself at a loss for what he should do next.

  After a moment’s reflection, he decided to take himself to his club to see if there was anyone he could challenge to a round of billiards.

  As he entered the door of his club he saw a face he had hoped not to see at his club or at any other place.

  Timothy Wilde, Earl of Steelfrost was just turning away from the registration desk.

  “Hullo, Steelfrost. You are looking well.”

  “Newhorn! I had not expected to see you here. When did you return to England?”

  “Just a week ago. My presence was required.”

  “Ah, yes, your parents’ funeral. What a sad circumstance. How are you holding up?”

  “As well as I may. Might I offer you a drink? I came to see if I could find an opponent for billiards. Time hangs heavy on my hands just now.”

  “Afraid I can’t oblige you, old man. I’m off to my tailor. Must see to this coat. Dashed fellow set the sleeves all wrong. I can scarcely move in it.”

  Benjamin could see that the coat did, indeed, seem to bind across the shoulders, as well as strain the buttons around the waist. Time had not been kind to the Earl of Steelfrost. Although still muscular, he had grown more than a little portly. Apparently, he had been living well these last nine years.

  “Ah, well, perhaps another time. You play a good game, as I recall.”

  “Well enough.
Some other afternoon, I’ll be glad to oblige you.”

  Benjamin watched as Steelfrost donned his hat, and strode on out into the street where a well-appointed carriage awaited him. He then turned and went on into his club.

  No one was in the billiards room, so he desultorily knocked the balls about. He soon tired of it, and decided to make his way back to the Newhorn townhouse.

  Once there, he retired to his chambers, the same set of rooms he had occupied as a boy. Rightfully, he supposed, he should take up residence in his parents’ rooms, but he could not bear to even enter them.

  How much I miss them! And I miss Florence. It seems as if life has passed me by, and now I am forced to take it up again.

  Benjamin opened the casement window that looked out over the street that ran by the back of the house. It was a familiar scene, one that he had found entrancing as a boy.

  Delivery carts trundled along, bringing milk, water, and other items to the houses. Servants hurried back and forth. Some carried bundles of laundry that they hung on lines strung along the back lots, while others carried covered baskets.

  They are so busy. They all have purpose. What is mine? I cannot make any changes to the processes my father set in motion until I fully inherit. Even when I do, I might not want to make things different. No point in fixing something that is working.

  What a strange, strange world it is, that so much should depend upon a woman willing to marry. I have lands, I have fortune, but my soul is so deeply and strangely impoverished. How I miss them all! Even though Florence was gone, I somehow hoped that I would return home to my parents. I thought we would have time.

  Benjamin leaned his palms on the windowsill and watched the panorama of life going on beneath him for a few minutes.

  “My Lord?” Simmons called softly from the door.

  “Yes, Simmons?” Benjamin turned to face his valet.

  “A person to see you, My Lord. He is downstairs in the little parlor. Would you like to change coats?”

  “Not just now, I think. But you can ask the cook to ferret out that Arabique coffee I was wont to send to my parents now and again.”

  “Very good, sir. I will alert the butler at once.”

  Benjamin went downstairs to the little parlor. There, a very interesting party of three waited for him.

  “Sir Bertram Johnson, Captain Able Laskar, and Mr. Adom Nour, all to see you, My Lord,” Grantham announced.

  “I’ve been expecting them, Grantham. Will you confer with Simmons about refreshments?”

  “Of course, My Lord, but I believe that the cook already has them in hand.”

  “Thank you, Grantham.”

  Benjamin settled himself on one of the spindly French chairs that were the predominant seating in the room. It was a style his mother had favored. One of the first things I shall change is to get some substantial seating in here. But that doesn’t matter right now.

  “So, gentlemen, how can I help you?”

  “It is more a matter of helping you, My Lord,” Sir Bertram said. “I’ll come right to the point. We have reason to believe that your parents’ death was a matter of foul play.”

  Mr. Nour, a gentleman with skin so dark that in his impeccable black and gray suit he seemed to disappear into the shadows, gave a derisive snort. “Reason to believe? The harness on the left side of the sleigh was sawn nearly all the way through, and the road had been deliberately dug out in an undercut on the river’s side. More than that, the dreadful event came to pass just after I had brought word to the late Lord Newhorn that a certain peer was engaging in both piracy and slavery.”

  “Was not slavery outlawed in 1807?” Benjamin asked in surprise.

  “Here is England, yes,” Captain Laskar spoke up. “But not in the American colonies. The cotton and sugar cane grown in the southern part of that upstart little country require a lot of labor.”

  “What are you saying?” Benjamin frowned.

  “That if an unscrupulous ship-owner were to sail from the out-lying islands, he could take a human cargo to Charleston or New Orleans and make a sizable profit.” Captain Laskar said.

  “Barbaric!” Benjamin exclaimed.

  “Very true,” Mr. Nour remarked, “But often done, as I know to my sorrow.” He had a deep, mellow voice, and spoke cultured English with only the faintest trace of a Spanish accent.

  “My father spoke of you,” Benjamin said. “Do you ever think of going home?”

  “What home?” Mr. Nour shrugged. “My mother, my father, my wife, and my three little ones were all killed. I was captured. It is my good fortune that I was sold in England before the passage of the new law.”

  “Why do you say, ‘good fortune’?” Benjamin asked.

  “Because I was spared a long sea voyage in the hold of a ship. You have no idea of the misery of such a journey. And because I was purchased by a man who was astute enough, and trusting enough, to put faith in my medical training.”

  Benjamin looked down at his hands where they were clasped on his knee, and thought about this for a moment. “That was, indeed, good fortune.”

  “Yes, it was. And I have been a free man for nearly eight years. Despite my best efforts, the gentleman passed away shortly after being wed. Both his young wife and I were terrified that one or the other of us would be held accountable. Once we were both free, she gave me my freedom and a job. It has been of great benefit to us both.”

  “I see,” said Benjamin, thinking that he might see more than one thing. “You could not practice medicine here?”

  Mr. Nour gave him a sour, down-turned smile. “In England? Hardly. I do not believe that the University of Salamonca and Harvard are on speaking terms. Nor do I wish to run afoul of the local guilds for practicing without a license. The witch hunts are scarcely more than fifty years in the past. I might not be burned at the stake, but I could easily find myself in gaol. All it would take is one fatality and a mass of disgruntled relatives. I have already come close enough to that.”

  “So what do you do?” Benjamin asked.

  “I’m a butler, of sorts,” Mr. Nour said. “And a collector of information.”

  “Which is why we are here,” Sir Bertram said, “Your late father was adamantly against the slave trade. We believe that his support of the Slave Trade Act was responsible for his death.”

  “But that was years ago,” Benjamin said in bewilderment. “Not long before I left England. Why now?”

  “Because some people persisted in spite of everything,” Captain Laskar explained. “Ships have been disappearing, and good men becoming bankrupt as a consequence. Remember the Molly B. Good?”

  “Yes. My father was trying to find out what happened to her not long before his death. He had made a substantial investment in trade goods that were in her holds.”

  “Those goods and other like them have started surfacing in places such as Nova Scotia,” Sir Bertram explained.

  “How very interesting,” Benjamin drawled.

  Chapter 5

  “So what do you think?” Penelope asked Edith. “Do you want to go walking with me tomorrow?”

  “I’m not at all sure. No, no I don’t think I do, Penny. I’d much rather stay at home and play with the kitten. You go. Find out more about what he is like.”

  Penelope sighed. While she, herself, had little or no desire to wed, Edith was woefully unsuited to care for herself.

  What shall I do for her? She is so painfully shy that she must have someone to look after her. Perhaps I should think about developing a skill or a way to earn a living. If only I were a boy! I would be halfway through studies at Oxford by now, or perhaps Cambridge.

  “What will you do if Uncle Horace comes in? You know that he will expect you to be making yourself available.”

  “I’ll go hide in Stella’s rooms. You will let me, won’t you, Stella?”

  Stella made a rude grumpy noise in her throat. “I suppose. But don’t you let that cat get hairs on my uniforms.”

  “Oh, I
won’t, Stella. I promise.”

  Stella just shook her head at the two of them. “What a pair. One of you turns down half of London. Now, the other one can’t bear to set eyes on the man who has made an offer for her hand. Whatever will become of the two of you when your uncle passes on? You know your cousin Lonnie isn’t going to spare a single thought for either one of you.”

  Penelope sighed. She knew that Stella was right. Their cousin had been a selfish, disagreeable little boy and had grown into a selfish, disagreeable man.