How to Catch an Earl with Ten Lies: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Patricia Haverton

  “Have some tea,” Benjamin said, pouring for her before she could ask if she should do the honors. “Do you take it with cream and sugar?”

  “Two spoons of sugar, no cream,” Miss Chapman said.

  Benjamin spooned in the sugar, handed her the cup, then added cream and sugar to his own drink. “Have some scones,” he said. “By the look of you, I would lay bets that you have not had breakfast.”

  “Well, I did. But I’ll own I was much too upset to eat much of it. These do look very good.”

  “Please, have as many as you like,” Benjamin said. “I’ll order more if we run out.”

  Miss Chapman took one scone, split it, and carefully added a little of the clotted cream.

  Benjamin was relieved to see that as she chewed, her face began to lose some of its intense distress. He took up a scone of his own, and for a few minutes, they focused on eating.

  At length, Miss Chapman ate the last bite of her scone, then took a second one. She nibbled at it thoughtfully, then took a sip of tea. “You must think me very foolish, indeed, but I could truly wish to have been born a boy.”

  Benjamin’s cup paused half-way to his lips. “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Because if I had been a boy, then I would have inherited instead of my uncle and I would be able to take care of my sister.”

  “Ah. Like that, is it?”

  “Yes. Not that you are not a perfectly fine gentleman, but it is not comfortable to be marketed to the highest bidder.”

  “No, it is not, Miss Chapman. And I am sorry to be one of the people participating in putting you in such a position. Would it comfort you at all if I said that I am beginning to enjoy your company a great deal? I think that in good time, I shall come to hold you in high regard.”

  “I am glad you noted the part about ‘in good time.’ It is very tiring to have a gentleman dance with you twice, then try to corner you, and ask for your hand.”

  “Did this happen to you?”

  “Twice. Callow youths both times, I will grant you, and completely unsuitable.”

  “Did you tell your uncle?”

  “No, it would only have caused a great stir. I simply extricated myself as quickly as I could and placed myself in the company of the oldest and stodgiest lady guest at the affair.”

  “Oh my. Very adroit of you, Miss Chapman. I am beginning to think that the shyness that the world sees is simply sensible reserve.”

  Miss Chapman blushed, sipped her tea to cover her confusion, then said, “Thank you, Lord Newhorn. That is very perceptive of you.”

  “But you have not told me what put you in such a taking this morning?”

  “I breakfasted with my uncle. He reminded me that upon his death, neither my sister nor I will inherit. Because of the entail, the estate and title will both go to my cousin, Lonnie.”

  “Your cousin would not provide for you?”

  “I rather doubt it. He would be far more likely to turn us out with nothing. He was a selfish boy, inclined to hide treats and never to share. I have seen no signs that he is improving as a man.”

  “Your parents did not make provision for you and your sister?”

  “Sadly, no. If you are thinking that I might bring you wealth, you will be disappointed. It is best that you know that now.”

  “Yet your sister, Penelope Chapman, turned down several suitors.”

  “Penny has no greater desire to be married than I,” Miss Chapman sighed.

  “If you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?”

  Miss Chapman’s face noticeably brightened. “I would have a place in the country where I could raise horses, hunting dogs, and cats. I would write about them, and devote myself to studying the natural sciences of the area.”

  “Do you draw, then, Miss Chapman?”

  “Quite well, actually. I design some of my own embroidery patterns and I have a sketchbook of flowers. While Pinehaven Park might not look like much right now, during the summer it has a profusion of blooms.”

  “Do you not retire to the country for the summer?” Benjamin asked with some surprise.

  Miss Chapman shook her head. “Not for the last two years. To pay for our seasons at court, my uncle has let a great deal of the estate.”

  “Even the manor house?”

  “Even the manor house. There are many people who like to escape London’s summer heat and the chance of illness, but who do not have a place of their own.”

  “Did you not have a London season, Miss Chapman?”

  “Of a sort. I was presented this spring, so I could if I wanted, but Penny told me how hard it was and how very careful one must be of behavior.”

  “But you were at enough parties to encounter unwanted attention.” Benjamin watched her face.

  Miss Chapman colored up. “Small, private parties suitable for a school room miss such as myself.”

  “I see. But now your uncle tells you that for the sake of your future, one or the other of you must wed.”

  “Yes. You see how it is. Penelope was ever so popular, but the sticking point for the truly desirable ‘catches’ has always been our lack of dowry. The gentlemen who did offer . . . I really cannot blame Penny for turning them down.”

  “I see.” Benjamin took a meditative sip of his tea. “Fortunately, I do not require my bride to have a dowry at all, let alone a large one. I’ll own that I would like a lady of some address, and one who felt that I would be a suitable companion in years to come.”

  Miss Chapman sipped her tea, set down her cup and poured a little more into it. “Now I have put you off. Well, it was to be expected.”

  “Actually, not at all. I find your forthrightness refreshing. You are far from the only young lady I have ever met who was being pressured by her relatives to obtain an advantageous marriage.”

  “Tell me, then, Lord Newhorn, why have you not wed?” Miss Chapman gave him direct look.

  Benjamin sighed, poured another cup of tea, added sugar and cream and stirred. “There was a young woman, when I was a callow youth. She was a dancer, quite a taking little thing, and very intelligent.”

  “Do tell on,” Miss Chapman said, “I hear a story coming.”

  “A sad tale, actually, and a far too common one. I used much of my school allowance to set her up in rooms. I used to buy flowers for her and candies.”

  Benjamin paused, sipped his tea, and Miss Chapman looked at him expectantly.

  “Are you sure you want to hear this?” he asked.

  “Yes, do please continue. I have come out only recently, but I am aware of many things that happen in the world.”

  “It was far less scandalous than you might think. I was quite young, and the favors she bestowed upon me never went beyond a kiss on the cheek or a walk in the gardens. But my attentions drew others to her.”

  “Then what happened?” Miss Chapman leaned forward, giving him all her attention.

  “A…rival for her affections came upon her as she waited for me one night, and he tried to force his attentions upon her. I objected, punched him in the face, and invited him to pistols at dawn.” Benjamin did not mention the other complications that led to the duel.

  “Oh, dear! That could not have been good!”

  “It was not. I won the duel by putting a bullet in his shoulder. I missed. I was aiming for his black heart. It was fortunate that I did miss, because I was only exiled rather than executed.”

  “Does this fellow still live?”

  “Sadly, yes, he does. But I am no longer a youth who can get away with such behavior.”

  “And the girl?”

  “She and I had already begun to tire of each other, but I insisted upon settling a sum of cash upon her before I was forced to flee for the coast. My father helped her, as well. She used the money to set up a school for young ladies.”

  “How enterprising of her. Did she do well?”

  “She does. She married after I left England, and is now a widow. She says that it gives her a bit of freed
om.”

  “Oh, so it would,” Miss Chapman said. “I can almost envy her.”

  “I believe that it is very hard work, Miss Chapman. Not only that, she had to overcome the stigma of having been a dancer and the impetus for a duel.”

  “Yes, that would have been hard. But how proud you must be that she succeeded and did not squander your investment.”

  “You know, I had not thought of it quite that way,” Benjamin said thoughtfully. “But you are right. Many dancers would have spent the money on costumes or fripperies. I believe I should be proud of her.”

  “And I am jealous. How I do envy her freedom. I had thought once of becoming a governess.”

  “It is a hard life,” Benjamin said.

  “How would you know that?” Miss Chapman inquired.

  “Observation. Visiting other houses. A governess or a tutor is trapped between two worlds. They are not quite of the same station as the family, but neither are they considered servants. It is a lonely sort of life.”

  “I had not thought of that. But there is a sort of freedom in loneliness, would you not agree?”

  “Perhaps you are right.”

  Benjamin watched as Miss Chapman sipped her tea. She seemed deep in thought.

  “I suppose I should not think so badly of my Uncle Horace,” she conceded. “It would seem that there are many difficult things in the world.”

  “That there are, Miss Chapman. Would you allow me to walk you back to your house? I am concerned for your safety, since you have not even your footman with you.”

  “I think I would be perfectly fine, Lord Newhorn, but if it pleases you, you may walk me home.”

  “That would please me very much,” Benjamin said, finding to his surprise, that the statement was true.

  “Then I will be glad of your company,” Miss Chapman said. “And perhaps it will lessen the scolding that Marpole, Stella, James, and my sister will give me when I return.”

  “We can hope. But who are all these people?”

  “Marpole is the butler. He has been with us forever. He will say, ‘Miss Chapman, may I take your coat? Here is a mat to wipe your slippers.’ All the while, he will be looking at me with that stiff, so very proper butler face, and I will know that I have done something of which he disapproves.”

  Benjamin laughed. “That sounds very much like an old family retainer. James I have met. But Stella?”

  “The maid my sister and I share. She has been with us forever, and is the closest thing we have to a mother. She will simply look at me and say, ‘I am very disappointed in you, Miss.’ Then she will ask for my boots, and scold because I went out without my hat.”

  “I see. Well, we had best get you home then, before all of them become any angrier.”

  Benjamin paid for their tea, and left a few coins for the waiter.

  Somehow, as he walked along with Miss Chapman on his arm, the day became a little brighter and the burden of the last few weeks a little lighter.

  When they arrived at her door he said, “This was very enjoyable. Perhaps we could do it again?”

  “Perhaps we could,” she replied, and ran lightly up the steps and into the house without asking him in.

  Benjamin stood staring after her for a few moments. The idea of being married had just become a little more appealing. What a funny little thing she is, and how independent. Whoever thought she was shy and retiring was gravely mistaken. I do hope I can persuade her to walk with me again. Why, I feel almost lighthearted.

  Chapter 15

  Horace strode down the hall away from the dining room. Why couldn’t his brother have had a brace of sons? By all that’s holy, if I had a brace of nephews I’m sure I could find brides for them without all this fuss and bother. And, by now, they would be old enough to start taking over the estate. Might as well look in on Edith before I go, and see how she is coming along.

  Horace climbed the stairs toward the suite where his nieces had their rooms. He tapped lightly at their parlor door and called out, “Edith? Are you within?”

  “Just a minute, Uncle Horace!” Edith’s voice called out. “I’ll be right there.”

  There was a sort of scuffling sound, and a sort of squeak. A door opened and closed within the suite, then quick, light steps approached the door. Edith opened it, a polite smile on her face. “Come in, Uncle. Can I offer you some tea?”

  “No, no. I just came from breakfast. I must leave on business, and I just came to see how you and Lord Newhorn were getting on. Is he acceptable to you?”

  “Why, Uncle, I hardly know. I’ve only spoken with him a couple of times. I am hard pressed to express my feelings. He … he seems like a perfectly fine gentleman, but he is scarcely more than a stranger.”

  “But you do not find him abhorrent?”

  “Neither abhorrent nor any other thing, Uncle Horace. Truly, I scarcely know what to say.”

  Horace stared at his sweet, biddable Edith in disbelief. “Not you too!” he exclaimed. “I just spoke with Penelope, and left her in high dudgeon. Can you not see that an advantageous marriage will do you nothing but good?”

  “Penelope is making sure that he is truly a gentleman,” Edith said firmly. “I am waiting to learn from her whether he is the man you believe him to be.”

  “Penelope is checking…of all the starts. How can Penelope possibly learn anything about him?” Horace sneezed, then pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes and nose. What was that smell? He sneezed again.

  Edith’s eyes got big, and she began to look panicky.

  Horace took a big sniff and wiped his nose again. The room smelled of fish, yes, and something else as well. He sneezed again. “Edith!” he wheezed, “Do you have a cat in here?”

  Edith twisted her fingers together nervously. “Not exactly, Uncle Horace.”

  “How can you ‘not exactly’ have a cat? Do you have a cat or don’t you? I thought we spoke about this before. I have nothing against the creatures, but I,” he sneezed again, “simply cannot breathe around them!”

  Edith simply looked up at him, tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s not exactly a cat, Uncle. It’s only a kitten. A little tiny black kitten that some mean boys were hurting. I couldn’t leave it there, Uncle. I just couldn’t.”

  Horace held his handkerchief over his nose, and began to back from the room. “We are not finished with this, Niece. Talk to the servants and get rid of that cat at once. Kindness is one thing, but I would like to be able to breathe in my own house!”

  Horace withdrew from the room and hurried to the lower floor. He went quickly to one of the windows, opened it, and stood there breathing in the outdoor air. London in spring was not pleasantly aromatic, but the chill, damp air soothed his irritated sinuses. He wiped his streaming eyes and blew his nose again.

  Now I must look like a monster to her. She rescued this poor, little creature and I want her to put it out in the cold. His throat felt raw, and phlegm still streamed down the back of his throat. What a poor sort of man I am to be brought low by something as innocuous as a kitten. And I can’t even find a husband for either of my nieces. What will become of them when I pass on and Lionel inherits? The beastly child enjoyed pulling wings off butterflies. If he keeps them on at all it will be as unpaid help.

  It was here that Marpole found Horace. “Are you well, My Lord?” he asked.

  “It is nothing, Marpole. Edith has hidden a cat in her room again, that is all.”

  “I have your vinaigrette right here, My Lord. It is the mint flavored one.”

  “Thank you, Marpole.” Horace held the bottle beneath his nose, inhaling the strong mint scent. For a moment his eyes watered even more than they had before, but then his nostrils began to clear, and the dreadful tickling went out of his throat. “Ah. That is much better. What a horrible thing, to be affected by a small, furry creature in this way.”

  “It is a pity, My Lord. I believe the girls have taken quite a fancy to the little creature.”

  “You knew?�
�

  “Of course, My Lord. But it wasn’t my place to reveal their secrets. Nor did I want to cause a difficulty with the help that is attached to them. The girl’s maid, and that very odd footman your brother caused to be hired on are both quite devoted to them.”

  “Well, well. That cannot be an entirely bad thing, I suppose. I would guess that is how they have been managing to keep the creature fed and clean?”

  “I believe so, My Lord. Although I have been careful not to know too much, if you take my meaning.”