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

by Patricia Haverton

  “I’ll think of something,” she said. “For now, if you can shelter Edith while I learn more about this man, I would so very much appreciate it. In fact, Stella, dear, dear Stella, what can you tell us about him?”

  “Me? Why should I know anything about a gentleman who has spent the last ten years on the continent?”

  “Well, there, for starters, why was he on the continent? Is not that unusual?”

  Stella thought about it for a moment. “You know Miss Penelope, you might have a point at that. But the person who will have better luck finding things out is James.”

  “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” Penelope brightened at the thought. “Will you ask him, please, dearest Stella?”

  “Don’t you go trying your wheedling ways with me, Miss Penelope,” Stella said with some asperity. “I know all about how that works! But for all that, I will ask him. I now find myself somewhat curious as to this fellow’s credentials.”

  “Thank you, Stella. I love Uncle Horace dearly, but he is sometimes far too trusting, especially with peers who outrank him. Meanwhile, I will continue the ruse we have begun and see what I can learn about the fellow.”

  With their plans laid for the morrow, the sisters set about their usual activities for the day. Edith played with the kitten for a time, then sent Stella to bring up her embroidery frame from the parlor. When the kitten went to sleep, Edith settled to her handwork for it was to be a footstool cover for Uncle Horace’s birthday.

  Penelope went through the several newspapers the house received, taking notes, and adding them to a grid she had made detailing political maneuverings. She had some vague idea of writing a book, but had not quite found a focus for it.

  She found a number of interesting current events, including an obituary for the late Earl of Newhorn and his wife. “Death by misadventure,” the article read. The couple had been riding in a sleigh along a well-known river road, enjoying the unseasonable snow and ice just as the spring freshets had begun. The horse had stumbled or something, and the sleigh had slid into the swollen waters.

  “What a ghastly death!” Penelope remarked.

  “What? Who?” Edith inquired.

  “Lord Newhorn’s parents. Drowned just a week or so ago. Remember when we had snow, then sleet, and it was followed up by rain?”

  “Indeed I do!” Edith replied. “That was when you had that awful head cold, and Uncle told us both not to stir outside under any circumstances. We missed the last cotillion at Lady Laudry’s house because of it.”

  “Were you so very disappointed?” Penelope asked.

  “Not really. In fact, I was rather glad of the excuse not to go. Lady Laudry’s daughter snubbed us both at the presentation ball, even though I complemented her on her younger sister’s coming out gown.”

  “Oh, Edie! You didn’t!”

  “What? The girl looked lovely. The puffed sleeves and pannier of her court dress made the best of the skinny little thing. She always looks like a plucked chicken in Grecian style evening gowns. Do you remember the ball where she damped her petticoats?”

  “You mean the country ball at the Laudry’s estate?”

  “Yes, I do. The girl is so thin she could almost have passed for a child of twelve or so.”

  “Poor little mite.” Penelope set aside her notebook. “I thought she looked terrified.”

  “Well she should! Had her father been home that night it would have been bed without supper at the very least of it.” Edith snipped off a thread with her scissors.

  “You knew her sister was terribly jealous of her, did you not?”

  Edith sighed. “The eldest Miss Laudry is such a prudish piggie person. And always stuffing her face. Any party we went to, you could find her at the refreshment table loading her plate with cake and jam. A little restraint, and she would not need to envy her sister.”

  Penelope just looked at Edith.

  “Oh, very well!” Edith jerked a thread through her embroidery. “I shouldn’t have said it. But the girl did look lovely, and it wouldn’t have hurt the older sister to let the younger shine.”

  Penelope looked sober at this. Could I be standing in her way? “Edie . . . I don’t want to rob you of this chance if you want it.”

  “Oh, Penny, you are not. The man terrifies me. The more we learn about him, the more frightened I am of even being alone in a room with him. You are not anything like the oldest Laudry daughter.”

  Penelope laughed a little, nervously. “I am glad to hear you say it. Nor have you ever in your life looked like a plucked chicken, and I would have sent you straight to our rooms if you had shown up even at a country dance with your petticoats dampened!”

  “Oh, Penny,” Edith said, “You take such good care of me. Be careful meeting this gentleman. I would simply die if something were to happen to you.”

  “You are sure you are not jealous?”

  “Not even a little bit,” Edith said stoutly. “You asked me if I wanted to go, remember?”

  “Oh, right. I did, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you goose, you did. You be sure and take James with you, and don’t get out of his sight.”

  “I will, and I promise,” Penelope said. She hugged her little sister and kissed her on the top of her head.

  I only hope that I have not made a total mull of this and that I am not destroying your chance for an advantageous marriage. But how can I let you do this without learning more about Lord Newhorn?

  Chapter 6

  Benjamin readied himself to exercise his horse in Pinehaven Park. It was not a fashionable or well-known park, but it was close to the Castlemount townhouse. No doubt, that made it a pleasant place for the sisters to take the air.

  The horse, a placid bay who would be happy to crop grass or munch hay in the area of the park reserved for horses, whuffled at him, and poked his nose toward Benjamin’s shoulder. No doubt the big gelding was hoping for a treat.

  Benjamin did not disappoint the importunate fellow. He pulled some chopped up carrot bits he had procured from the kitchen, and held them out on his palm. The horse lipped them up delicately, and crunched with clear satisfaction.

  “You big mooch, Ranger,” Benjamin told him fondly. “Does no one give you exercise or feed you?”

  “I does, Guv’nor,” one of the stable boys volunteered pertly. “He do love them carrots!”

  The stable master walked up behind the boy and gave him a light rap on the noggin with his knuckles. “This is Lord Newhorn, me boy. You address him as ‘My Lord’ or Lord Newhorn, after he has spoken to you.”

  Benjamin laughed. Then he said, “How are you, Tucker? I don’t believe you’ve changed a bit.”

  “Well enough, My Lord. Please forgive the lad. He’s my grandson, come to train up in the business as it were. But he’s not been here more’n a day or two.”

  “He’s a likely lad, Tucker. Looks to be a chip off the old block. So he’s been exercising Ranger.”

  “Yes, Lord Newhorn. Ranger’s a patient sort of horse. Good for the lad to learn on. Will you be bringing your high-steppers from the estates?”

  “Probably not. The season is over. Indeed, I might need to replenish my cattle, since it has been nearly ten years since I have seen any of them.”

  “Eh, I keep forgetting. Don’t seem like it’s been but yesterday you were this fellow’s size and I was teaching you to ride on a leading string. But don’t you fret, m’lord. They’s all been tuck good care of. The late Earl kep’ hopin’ each year that you’d be home.”

  “I know. I had hoped for it, too. Little did I know that losing them was the price for my return.”

  “It’s a turrible strange world, eh, wot, Lord Newhorn?”

  “It is all of that, Tucker. Thank you and all of the staff for the excellent care of the horses. Ranger here is a little gray around the muzzle, but it is a pleasure to be back with this old friend.”

  “It is good to hear you say so, My Lord. And it is very good to have you home, although
we are all sorry for the circumstance that made it possible.”

  Benjamin blinked once or twice. The old stableman’s sympathy bid fair to start up the tears that he thought he was through shedding. He nodded his acknowledgement, shook the faithful retainer’s hand, and led Ranger out into the sunshine.

  As he left, Benjamin heard the old fellow say, “Now, Grandson, that’s how a peer should be.”

  Benjamin swung up on his horse and let the big bay take up the smooth, fast-walking pace for which his line was famed. He was too far away to hear the boy reply, “Yes, Gran’ther. He seems nice.”

  Chapter 7

  Penelope surveyed herself in the mirror. She could not say why she was taking extra care with her appearance before walking in the park today.

  Her pale-yellow walking gown set off her lightly tanned complexion perfectly. The pale green trim kept it from being too monochrome. She had carefully brushed her old straw hat and pinned a spray of daisies and ferns to the brown ribbon band that went around the crown. The hat tied beneath her chin with a brown ribbon to keep it from flying off in the breeze.

  Since she was going out where others could see her, she braided her dark brown hair, and pinned it up in a knot at the back of her neck. Her walking boots were a little worn because she was dreadfully hard on boots, but they were comfortable and James had seen to it that they had a nice polish.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Penelope asked Edith.

  “Absolutely certain,” Edith replied. “I’ve picked up a nasty cold, so even if I wanted to see this fellow, I would prefer staying home today. Learn all you can about him, Penny, and remember to stay within sight of James at all times.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Penelope teased. “I will take care to be perfectly proper. After all, when we confess to the subterfuge, we do not want to have besmirched your reputation.”

  “It is not my reputation I am worried about,” Edith retorted. “It is my sister’s safety. Do please be careful, Penny dearest.”

  “I shall be perfectly fine,” Penelope reassured her. “We will be in a family park, not one of those dreadfully frightening places frequented by all sorts of strange people. Even if it was that sort of park, James will take very good care of me.”

  With that, Penelope put on her gloves, picked up her parasol and went out to meet with the redoubtable James.

  The day was beautiful as only spring in England can be. Penelope regretted that she had not been able to persuade Edith to come walking with her.

  James walked two paces behind and to her right, carrying a basket on his arm. The basket contained a package of biscuits, three bottles of freshly made lemonade, napkins, and a picnic blanket.

  Since Penelope had no idea where she might see Lord Newhorn, she chose to walk around the exercise circuit for horses. There were only a few people out. Many members of the Ton had already departed for the country, getting ahead of potential summer heat.

  If Uncle Horace had only departed last week, as he considered doing, Edith and I would not be in this quandary. I do hope I shall not regret this mad venture.

  Penelope heard Lord Newhorn before she saw him. There came the distinctive sound of a large horse doing a steady flat walk.

  When the horse drew alongside them, the rider called out, “Good afternoon, Miss Chapman.”

  Penelope turned to face the track. Lord Newhorn swung down from the saddle and walked alongside, leading his horse.

  “Good afternoon, Lord Newhorn,” Penelope greeted him. “Your horse is a walker?”

  “He is. Not the finest of his line, but gentle and sweet tempered. He’s a bit lazy.”

  “Is he?” Penelope eyed the horse. “Not a young horse.”

  “No. He was my favorite mount before I took the tour. I could not take him with me, but my parents kept him all the same.”

  “How fortunate. But will you be looking for a different horse?”

  “Not immediately. I have no need for a horse that likes to gallop, merely one who will get me from one place to another. I’ll take him with me to my estates when the weather grows warmer.”

  They walked along in silence for a few minutes. “Do you hunt, Lord Newhorn?” Penelope asked.

  “Not since I left England,” Lord Newhorn replied. “My interests lay elsewhere while I was on the continent. I frequently acted as my father’s agent.”

  “Did that involve a great deal of travel?”

  “Not as much as one might think. I was left with a great deal of time to visit the museums, art galleries, and cafes.”

  “I enjoy museums and art galleries,” Penelope observed. “Do you have a favorite artist?”

  “I am partial to Boilly’s work. But I am not sure if any of it has made its way across the channel.”

  “The name does not seem familiar. But I cannot say that I have seen a great deal of art. If it has not made its way into a book, I would have little opportunity.”

  “Do you read, then?” Lord Newhorn asked.

  “As much as I possibly can. I adore novels, but also find the newspapers highly enlightening. Especially since I am unlikely to ever hear a debate in Parliament. Reading about them is as close as I can come.”

  “Do you enjoy politics, then, Miss Chapman?”

  “I’m not sure ‘enjoy’ would be the right term. I do find them fascinating. Don’t you?”

  “I’m not sure fascinating is the word I would use. However, understanding what is going on in the political arena can be quite useful.”

  “Precisely. Since there is only so much one can pick up from listening to conversations in drawing rooms, the newspapers provide another avenue of learning.”

  “You amaze me, Miss Chapman. I do wonder, what would you do with all this information?”

  “Why, take care of my affairs, of course. One can never be too careful. I know of at least two unfortunate young married ladies who have found to their sorrow that their husbands have no head for finances at all. Without a firm hand, they would be quite run aground if the gentlemen were not gently guided into better habits.”

  “If you find me to be a wastrel, would you then seek to reform me?” A twitch at the corner of the Earl’s mouth indicated that he found this amusing.

  “Not at all, Lord Newhorn. Instead, I would gently dissuade my uncle from arranging this marriage. He is a very gentle and trusting soul. We are very fortunate in having an excellent man of business, originally hired by my father, who manages the family’s financial affairs.”

  “Do you believe he does so honestly?”

  Penelope remembered the role she was supposed to be playing. “My older sister, Penelope, believes so. She has an excellent head for numbers and has frequently sat down with Uncle Horace, Mr. Bastion, and our solicitor, Mr. Harrington.”

  “You are fond of your sister?”

  “Oh, ever so much! She is quite clever, you know.”

  “Yet retiring.”

  “I’m afraid so. She has often remarked that she dislikes being on display, as if she was a prize riding horse or cow.”

  The Earl gave a shout of laughter. “Oh, dear,” he said wiping his eyes with his handkerchief, “That is a rather apt description of the Season. It is not for nothing that it is often referred to as ‘the marriage mart.’ How do you feel about it?”

  “Honestly, I try very hard to ignore it and have a good time. We are very privileged to have this opportunity. Our uncle has quite taken us under his wing, and is determined to care for us properly.”

  “Why the sudden haste to find a husband for you, Miss Chapman?”

  “Well, it isn’t precisely sudden. My sister, Penelope, has turned down every offer for her hand. Uncle Horace has quite despaired of finding anyone of whom she might approve.”

  “I now begin to understand why he offered his younger niece instead of the elder. Do you think your sister was accurate in her assessment of these gentlemen?”

  “Are you asking me to gossip?” Penelope flashed him a mock seve
re look.

  “Far from it. You need not tell me the gentlemen’s names. I have been so long absent from England that it is unlikely that I should recognize them.”

  “Very well.” Penelope began to count off on her fingers, “The first was a nice enough fellow, but a complete fribble. His primary concern was whether he had selected the right coat or if he had correctly tied his cravat.”

  “Not someone I would want to spend a great deal of time with,” Lord Newhorn observed.

  “Nor did Penny,” Penelope agreed. “The next was an amiable sort of fellow, always ready to laugh at a joke. He might almost have been acceptable, except for his predilection for wine and raspberry tarts. He was already beginning to be stout, and he was not quite thirty.”