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

by Patricia Haverton

  Edith’s next statement mirrored her sister’s thought almost perfectly. “Except that I have given my heart to another.”

  “I am not at all sure,” Penelope said slowly, “that where our hearts are given is of great importance to anyone except the two of us.”

  “Oh, Penelope,” Edith whimpered, “I do not think that I can bear it.”

  “We must have courage, my Edith,” Penelope comforted her. “Something might yet happen that will prove to be a solution.”

  “I do hope so. For I have no desire at all to be wed to Lord Newhorn.”

  Penelope said nothing at all, merely looking at her hands.

  Edith considered her shrewdly. “Penny! You’ve fallen in love with him!”

  Penelope felt the tears begin to slide down her face, as she nodded. “Aren’t we in a pitiful mess, Edie? And I see no real way out of it. Because when I tell Lord Newhorn that we have deceived him, he is sure to be so angry that he will completely cry off. Worse yet, I think he has some business deals with Uncle Horace and we may have jinxed them completely.”

  “Oh, no!” Edith whispered. “And these ships have gone down…oh, Penelope, whatever shall we do?” Edith went to her sister where she sat on the small sofa and put her arms around her.

  For a few minutes, the sisters clung to each other, tears running down their faces. Then Penelope sat up and said, “So you see why it is important that I tell Lord Newhorn as soon as possible.”

  “Oh, no, Penelope,” Edith said. “I think you should hold off as long as you can. Uncle Horace’s ships might come in.”

  “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps not. I don’t know, Edith. I plan to enjoy the riding tomorrow. If the time is right, toward the end of the day I will tell him. However much it might help Uncle Horace, this deception cannot go on much longer. Think how much worse it will be if we are found out before I tell.”

  Chapter 31

  Cynthia Albright welcomed her students into the classroom. The boarding students were neatly clad in trim uniforms of dun colored linen, both charity and paid boarders. The day students were variously gowned in whatever clothing their parents felt appropriate. Their garments ranged from a simple cotton dimity on a young lady who could easily have afforded silk, to an overly elaborate gown in velvet, silk, and satin that graced an up-and-coming merchant’s daughter.

  “Good morning, students,” she greeted them.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Albright,” they chorused back.

  “This morning, in preparation for conversation, we shall read the newspapers. Older girls will pick younger girls, and you will read in pairs. Line up now, in order of height.”

  Although this was not a perfect method, it allowed Cynthia Albright to quickly take role and to assess the young ladies who were attending her school. Some of them would one day be presented at court, while others would become shopkeepers and servants. Melding them in this fashion was quite progressive and egalitarian, and had caused more than one member of the Ton to withdraw their daughter. On the whole, however, Cynthia felt that the experiment was a success.

  In a very few minutes, because this was a familiar exercise, the girls were paired up, for the most part, older with younger, and better readers with those less able. Cynthia set a half-hourglass on her desk, and turned it so that the sands began running through it, and for that brief time the classroom was filled with the chatter of young feminine voices reading the daily news.

  Cynthia circulated among them, correcting a word here, reminding another pair to take turns, and generally keeping an eye on the group efforts. When the sands had run out, she rang a little silver bell.

  “Everyone return to your seats. Now then, Miss Emily,” she indicated the merchant’s daughter, “And Lady Elorie,” she motioned to the girl in the simple dimity, “Please come have a seat at the tea table. Miss Smith and Miss Jones, you will be the maids. You will find the tea trays ready on the classroom credenza.”

  Indeed, on the credenza sat two tea trays, one with a cozy covered tea pot, and the other with a domed dish. Enticing smells exuded from the dish. Cynthia knew just how hard this exercise would be for some of the girls. The boarding students had been served a simple breakfast of oatmeal porridge and tea, but some of the day students were from working families who might be sacrificing a great deal for their daughters to attend this prestigious school. Even the young ladies whose parents were paying for their classes did not always make sure their daughters had breakfast before school.

  Miss Emily and Lady Elorie seated themselves at the tea table. Smith picked up the tray with the tea pot, while Jones followed with the domed dish. For a few minutes, nothing at all was said while the girls presented the foods, poured the tea, and retreated to stand a discrete distance from the table.

  Lady Elorie smiled and picked up her cup. As the higher ranked of the two, it was her duty to take the lead. “Thank you for coming to visit, Miss Emily.”

  “Thank you for inviting me, Lady Elorie.”

  Lady Elorie sipped her tea, and nibbled at a biscuit. For a few minutes, as was polite and correct, the discussion was about the flavors of the food, compliments to the chef, and so on.

  From there, Lady Elorie complimented Miss Emily on her choice of gown, and asked for the name of her dressmaker. Since Miss Emily had selected the gown from a table of similar gowns from the used clothing market, this caused her to dissolve into giggles, and there had to be a short recess while the class discussed what she could have said, whether the gown was appropriate for day wear, and similar topics.

  Cynthia then directed the girls back to the exercise. “My goodness,” said Lady Elorie, “The newspaper says that two ships went down, and are sunk without a single trace.”

  “I saw that article, too,” said Miss Emily. “But my father says that ships don’t sink without trace. He is of the opinion that pirates took them, and that we will soon see the cargo on the market.”

  “Goodness!” commented Lady Elorie. “That sounds simply dreadful. What would happen to the crew in such a case?”

  “Probably sent down to Davy Jones Locker,” Miss Emily’s tone dripped with relish. “That’s what usually happens to crews on ships that are taken by pirates. Unless, of course, they become pirates, too.”

  Lady Elorie looked puzzled. “Davy Jones Locker? Who is Davy Jones?”

  Miss Emily rolled her eyes.

  Cynthia made some notes on a slate, but let the girls continue.

  “It’s an expression,” Miss Emily explained. “It means the bottom of the ocean.”

  “Oh. Oh!” Comprehension dawned on Lady Elorie’s face. “That is simply dreadful. I can quite understand why the crew might become pirates, at least long enough to survive.”

  A couple of taps of the chalk on Cynthia’s slate was enough to remind Miss Emily that the topic was not quite drawing room appropriate.

  “Yes, well, that’s what my father said too. No blame to them, poor…uh...souls. But do you know what else I heard?”

  “What?” Lady Elorie did not quite lean forward, but it was clear that Miss Emily had her attention.

  “Well, I heard that these two ships belong to Lord Castlemount, and that he is already so desperate that he is trying to get his nieces married off as quick as he can. He even made a contract with that murderer, Lord Newhorn, for the youngest one.”

  “Dear me!” said Lady Elorie, who was a highly protected child who rarely saw the outside of her classroom, at home or at Cynthia’s school.

  “And that’s not all,” Miss Emily did lean forward this time, with a shocking want of decorum. “My cousin was at the market, having some sport with a black cat, when Lola Harrington started whacking him and his buddies with her parasol. Her cousin, Alfred Harrington, broke it all up. And he’s been seeing Miss Edith Chapman ever since. Can you imagine what her uncle is going to say when he finds out?”

  Cynthia felt her stomach clench. Whatever could the child be talking about? The man she had known as Benjamin Gray,
who was now Lord Newhorn, would never countenance playing second fiddle to a green law clerk. Could there be any truth to this matter? And had not two of the young ladies with the ill-fated kitten, who were now dancing attendance on Lady Agatha, been named Chapman?

  She carefully kept her school mistress mask in place. “That is enough. You may now return to your seats. Smith, Jones, excellent job on not reacting to anything being said at the tea table. Will everyone now please take out your slates and write a draft of your reaction to Lady Elorie and Miss Emily’s conversation?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Albright,” the young ladies chorused.

  As the students returned to their seats, Cynthia considered what she had just heard. It did all fit together. The kitten, the two young ladies who only introduced themselves as “Miss Chapman,” Lola Harrington, and, yes, young Mr. Harrington. Had Benjamin applied to Lord Castlemount for the hand of one of his nieces? The whole idea was somewhat bizarre, but not outside the realm of possibility. The question was, which Miss Chapman had he preferred? The one who seemed to be in charge, or the shyer, quieter one?

  Whichever it was, Cynthia was sure that she needed to speak with Benjamin. It would not be possible to take time away from her business until much later in the day, and tomorrow there was that important meeting with a new friend of Lady Jersey, followed up by an interview with a young gentleman who was just establishing a household and needed servants.

  Cynthia opened her appointment book. It would be Saturday before she would have free time to speak with Benjamin Gray, Lord Newhorn. She would send her card around at once, and see if she could gain an audience. Perhaps he would be having an “at home” and she could simply drop by.

  Likely she would discover that it was all a banbury tale the girls had concocted between them. But in all events, she needed to make it clear to the pair of them that they had strayed from polite conversation right on over into gossip.

  If only . . . She gave herself a shake. She was far past the age of giving in to “if only.” Mr. Albright had been kind and had provided generously for her, as had Benjamin and his father. However, the late Lord Newhorn had made it plain that he expected his assistance to buy her silence and her relinquishment of his son. Still, if only I had the rank, or the beauty and the figure I once had, I would give this Miss Chapman a run for her money, as it were. Nor shall I allow her to make a fool of my friend, if only for old times’ sake.

  Chapter 32

  Timothy Wilde looked over the document that Robert Bastion laid before him. “This is a very nice beginning,” he said. “With his two ships at the bottom of the sea, and his fortunes coming apart, I believe that Castlemount will be more than willing to see things my way.”

  Young Mr. Bastion nodded. “He has been a client at Bastion, Bastion, and Harrington for a long while, so he is not likely to suspect anything until long after the documents are signed. With duns coming in from all directions and no money to pay them, he should be more than amenable to our suggestions.”

  “Quite so. You are becoming very astute, young Mr. Bastion. I am sure that your father and uncle will find you a credit to them.”

  Robert Bastion looked pleased at the praise. “I’ll see to drawing up the papers. You want them set up so that should anything happen to Newhorn, Edith will inherit. And at her demise, Penelope will inherit, is that correct?”

  “Yes, you have apprehended my meaning completely. It will take a little finesse to get around the entails, but I have had Prinny’s ear this last six months or so. Just a few more appeals to his appetites, and I believe I can get him to see things my way and be willing to override any fossilized inheritance rulings.”

  “I will leave that in your hands, My Lord,” Robert said. “That is far beyond my capability. But I will get the papers for this loan written up, along with all the conditions you have set. And I will make it so convoluted and full of Latin that only the most astute legal advisor could puzzle it out.”

  “Excellent!” Steelfrost clapped the young man on the shoulder, an intimacy that nearly drove Robert’s nose into the desk. “I can quite assure you that I am looking forward to my future nuptials.”

  “Would it not be prudent to ask the lady in question before celebrating?” suggested Robert.

  “Oh, with the right incentive, she will have no choice but to say yes.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, My Lord, why exactly is it that you are doing this? You will be out the loan to Castlemount. What will you gain?”

  “Let me explain it to you but once,” Steelfrost said. “Long ago I was betrothed to Newhorn’s sister. He, poor foolish schoolboy that he was in those days, allowed her to become acquainted with his lover. When I wanted to sip the nectar from that flower, the wretched little barque of frailty let slip some very sensitive information having to do with a charity. Before I could intervene and explain, my dear, sweet love had words with her foolish brother, then went out riding on a half-broke colt. It did not end well.”

  “That is tragic, My Lord. But I’m still not sure that I understand. Why are you doing this?”

  Steelfrost glowered at the young law clerk. “Revenge. He took from me what was mine, so now I shall take from him.”

  Chapter 33

  The next day dawned clear and bright. Penelope and Edith assisted each other with getting ready.

  “Do you think my riding habit is too out of fashion?” Penelope asked, surveying the worn garment.

  “From what you have said, I don’t think Lord Newhorn is going to be looking at your habit, Penny. And anyway, you haven’t another. Mine won’t fit you, and anything you would drag out of the attic would be even more outmoded, to say nothing of the moths probably having been at it.”

  “You look lovely,” Penelope praised her sister. “Is that the gown you remade?”

  “Yes. A couple of tucks, trimming away the worn lace and replacing it with ribbon, and it will do well enough, I think.”

  “Do you expect to see Alfred today?”

  “Perhaps. Sometimes he comes by to call on Lady Agatha, and sometimes he does not. In all events, I shall have a lovely time of it. Lady Agatha’s cook is excellent, and we always have a very pleasant tea. I am almost ashamed to be taking advantage of her.”

  “But you are not,” Penelope reassured her. “Remember, you have made a pact with Mrs. Albright to be a companion to her in exchange for her taking in the cat.”

  “Oh, as to that,” Edith gave a little laugh, “I have been quite abandoned. I do not think I could get Indigo back even if I had a place to live where I could have him. He gives her so much pleasure, I am sure that I would be quite heartless to even try.”

  “I am glad that Lady Agatha is giving Indigo a good home. But Edith, remember that you also promised Mrs. Albright that you would not use the circumstances for courtship.”

  Edith sighed. “I know. And we don’t, not really. But Penny, if I am there, and he is there, it would be churlish to treat him with less than civility. Truly, I am being very good.”

  “And I have no room to talk, for I have fallen in love with the man who should have been my sister’s bridegroom.”

  “Oh, Penny. I do not think it will matter to Uncle Horace which of us were to marry Lord Newhorn, as long as one of us does.”

  “Which now isn’t likely to happen. Edith, I have made such a mull of things.”

  “Don’t fret, Penny. Go enjoy your day. Perhaps if Lord Newhorn truly has a good time, he will be indifferent as to which Miss Chapman he ends up with.”

  “It would be lovely if you were right, Edith.” Penelope embraced her sister briefly. Then the two of them inspected each other’s costumes one last time before they started out on their day’s adventures.

  Downstairs, James handed each of the sisters up into the shabby old carriage, then climbed up on the box and eased the team into action.

  At Lady Agatha’s house, they were met by the aged butler who gladly showed the young ladies through to the sitting room. Lady Aga
tha greeted both of them warmly, and they chatted a few moments about the characters in Sense and Sensibility before Penelope took her leave.

  “Are you quite sure it is all right with you to leave my sister here while I am on my errands, Lady Agatha?” Penelope asked.

  “Of course, my dear. I have not been so well entertained since . . . oh, ever, I think. She is such a sweet child. Are you sure you cannot stay, as well?”

  “I am sorry, Lady Agatha. I have another engagement. But I could take my sister with me, if you wish.”

  “Oh, no, no, my dear. She is very welcome here. Indeed, I would be devastated if she did not stay and read with me. She keeps Indigo entertained and out of mischief while I nap, and no one else seems to have acquired the knack of it.”