Escaping The Scurrilous Earl

by Lydia Pembroke

  Escaping the Scurrilous Earl

  The Nettlefold Chronicles

  Clean Regency Romance

  Lydia Pembroke

  ©Copyright 2018 Lydia Pembroke

  All Rights Reserved

  License Notes

  This Book is licensed for personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author.

  Disclaimer

  This story is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales or actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Escaping the Scurrilous Earl

  Disclaimer

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books by Lydia Pembroke

  Here is Your Preview of The Reclusive Duke’s Second Chance

  Chapter One: Isabelle

  Chapter Two: Charles

  Prologue

  The sun had not yet risen when Miss Lily Althrop staggered from the terraced house on the edge of Southwark, where she had spent the entirety of her life surrounded by the family she loved dearly: a sweet mother, loving father, and a dear younger brother. A mist drifted across the River Thames, the chill of dawn casting a dampness across Lily’s ivory skin, tingling down her spine. Her dark brown eyes were scratchy from endlessly spilled tears, her heart heavy.

  In her carpet-bag, she carried everything she owned, her dresses and garments stuffed inside. She had been in haste when she had sought to pack the previous evening, knowing that she had to get as far from her home as possible, as soon as possible. Now, upon the dawn, she made her escape, though it was not a happy one. There was no sense of freedom or relief in her running, only a troublesome weight upon her slender, petite shoulders.

  She seemed a small, sad figure as she hurried along the banks of the Thames, heading toward the spot where the stagecoach picked up morning travellers.

  Her flowing, raven hair had been wrestled beneath a straw bonnet with a purple ribbon — her favourite. Her curling strands had broken free, tickling her tear-streaked face, and her body felt as though it belonged to another being; a person she did not know or recognise.

  Though she hadn’t eaten in days, her stomach churned. She knew that her parents would worry, upon discovering her absence, but she could not allow her shame to be wrought upon them, too. She refused to bring them grief and scandal, not when her father’s business relied on good reputation. Who would want to purchase their snuff, knowing that their family was disgraced? Then, there was the Earl to worry about. He was the one who had caused all of this.

  Sobbing into her handkerchief, hating the very thought of that so-called gentleman, she arrived to find the stagecoach already waiting. Pushing thoughts of him aside, just for the time being, she purchased her ticket with what little money she had and clambered aboard, holding her carpet-bag close to her chest.

  It brought her some comfort to hold the bag tight, trying to picture it as a person who might hold her in this time of need.

  It was true that she was not thinking clearly, her mind distraught.

  She had almost sought passage aboard a merchant vessel, leaving London for good. Thankfully, she had not been bold enough to do so.

  And yet, she knew that she had to travel as far from home as possible, putting enough distance between herself and the Earl that he would not pursue her, that he could do no more to her.

  She prayed that he might forget all about her… and all about the debt he held over her and the Althrop family. After all, had she not paid the price of it with everything she had to give? Surely, the balance had been settled now? He could not ask for more, she hoped, not when he had already taken everything from her.

  “Where are you headed, Miss?” a rheumy-eyed old lady asked, as Lily settled on the rough bench inside.

  “I shall know my destination once I reach it,” she replied quietly. She did not wish to impart too much knowledge, in case someone might trace her by her words. Already, she longed to jump from the carriage and return to her loving family.

  If only she could explain everything. One suggestion of her return and she knew she might crumble.

  “Right you are, Miss. Would you care for a morsel? You look famished.”

  The old lady offered out a tart filled with glistening jam, but the sight of it turned Lily’s stomach all the more.

  Indeed, her nauseated appetite had been the first inkling that something was amiss, several weeks earlier. As the days passed, it was only getting worse.

  “No, thank you. I may rest awhile.”

  The old lady nodded.

  “Right you are.”

  There were only four passengers on that dawn stagecoach, jostled around in the stuffy interior as the carriage set off, leaving London, and everything Lily knew, behind. The wheels rattled across the uneven terrain, the familiar township giving way to open countryside as the stagecoach moved further west. Although Lily had purchased a ticket all the way to Bath, she did not wish to exit at Bath itself. She hoped that she would know the right place when she came across it — a quiet place where she might hide her state from the world, at least until she started to show and could no longer conceal it. A story could always be invented, in such an occurrence.

  Truly, she longed for a town or a village where nobody would ask questions and where Fabian Woodham, the Earl of Felmingham, would never find her.

  The further from home the stagecoach trundled, the more frightened Lily became. Fleeing had felt like the only option, but now she was not so sure. Perhaps, her family might have understood?

  Perhaps, they might not have judged her too harshly upon hearing her reasoning? She was not an unseemly girl by any means, and had not entered into relations with Lord Felmingham lightly.

  Indeed, she had been coerced and forced into such antics, otherwise she would never have entertained them. You did it for your family, she told herself. If you had not, Lord Felmingham would have ruined your father. He told you so himself.

  Lily’s father had been in the business of snuff for as long as she could remember. He was a man of weak heart and big dreams, whom Lily adored. Truly, she would have done anything for him. In the last year, he had come up with the idea of expanding his small business, though such a progression required an investor with excellent capital.

  Such a gentleman had appeared in the form of Lord Felmingham, who had long been a customer of Lily’s father.

  Remembering how innocently it had all begun, Lily started to cry again, snuffling into her bag. It smelled of tobacco and peppermint, reminding her of home.

  Her father had been so excited, bursting through the door of their small terrace with the happy news.

  An investor had been found, and his snuff empire was to develop without delay. Indeed, he had proudly told them that Lord Felmingham had put his name forward, the two of them always enjoying a respectful rapport. Once or twice, whilst assisting her father, Lily had seen him come into the shop.

  He had always been polite and considerate towards her, and though he was not a terribly handsome man, Lily had not thought him e
ntirely devoid of charm.

  And then, his visits to the house had begun. At first, he had only arrived to meet with her father but, soon enough, he had appeared to find reason to turn up unannounced, often making Lily feel uncomfortable as she invited him in to wait, or explained that her father was at the shop.

  In those stolen moments of privacy, he had made the most lewd suggestions at her expense.

  His words disgraced her, making her blush furiously. Knowing how much her father needed Lord Felmingham’s assistance in expanding the business, she had not breathed a word to anyone, harbouring her resentment for the man in secret. Truly, she had sought to evade him, but he was often one step ahead of her.

  Lily tried to rationalise and then berated herself ceaselessly.

  Your father needed you to do what you did. You would not have obeyed if you had not feared for the future of your family. What you were made to do was deeply wrong, but you executed those actions for the right reasons. All the same…. you are a disgrace to your family.

  The same thoughts had been going around in her head for months, ever since the sordid liaisons began. Even though she had not sought the liaisons out, nor had she wanted them when they were presented to her, necessity had forced her hand.

  She grimaced, remembering the way that Lord Felmingham had sauntered into their house that day, four months ago, and demanded to speak with Lily in private. Nobody had been around to protect her, for her mother had ventured to the butcher, whilst her brother was out playing, and her father was at the bank.

  He had told her, quite plainly, that he was tired of her coy behaviour. However, he explained that that was not why he had come to meet with her.

  “If it is not impertinent, my Lord, might I ask why you are here?” she had asked.

  Oh, how she wished, now, that she had stayed silent. Perhaps, that might have defended her from what had followed.

  “Your father is indebted to me, Miss Althrop, and I am about to call in that debt. You see, there are alternative investments that have caught my eye, and I should like to transfer my funds elsewhere, as I do not appear to be making a return on this snuff expansion, at anything like the rate that it was intimated I might,” he had replied.

  She could remember it as if it were yesterday. He had named a figure, and Lily had understood immediately — her father would never be able to pay back such a sum, to make good on the agreed loan. In that moment, she had feared for her entire family, who would have been cast out on the street, losing the business on top of it all.

  “You must speak with my father,” she had urged, panicked. “You must come to an agreement.”

  She remembered the way he had smiled at her. An unsettling leer.

  “Perhaps, you and I may come to an agreement instead?” She had not understood, at first. “I shall not bring down the debt upon your father’s head if you agree to certain… favours, shall we say? If you wish to help your family, that is. Tomorrow afternoon, should you decide you are eager to alleviate their potential struggles, I will expect your arrival at my house. I ask that you be discreet, for your sake more than mine.”

  With that, he had swept from the house.

  She could remember the sinking feeling that settled into her, upon his departure; the sensation of being trapped in a net which she could not escape.

  What else could I have done? she wondered miserably, staring out of the stagecoach window with bleary eyes. Lord Felmingham would have cast us out, forced us into destitution. Surely, as a daughter, able to prevent such a tragedy, it was my only option? She was not entirely convinced of the fact, though Lord Felmingham had spent enough time telling her it was true.

  For months, these liaisons had occurred and continued. She had been helpless to argue, though each visit had left her with an internal sense of loathing. Each time she had begged him to release her from their ‘agreement’, he had threatened the debt.

  That was, until two weeks ago, when the sickness had taken hold and Lily had realised, beyond reasonable doubt, that Lord Felmingham had got her with child.

  You were foolish to go to him, she reasoned, recalling how she had run to him in a panic, explaining her dire situation. He had merely laughed, telling her that a smarter girl would never have conceived. Only, Lily had known very little of the world, only hearing snippets of truth from the bawdy women who lived nearby in Southwark, and hurled lewd comments at one another in the market.

  How could she have known how to prevent such a thing? Prior to Lord Felmingham’s forced visits, she had been an innocent through-and-through.

  There had been the suggestion of a herbalist or a backstreet doctor, Lord Felmingham insisting that she find a way to get rid of the child – but she could not bear to add criminal abortion to her failings. He had even mused upon her performing the act herself, which had left her reeling.

  Truthfully, despite the way they had ended up in this situation, she had presumed that there was some kindness in him somewhere. That last visit had assured her there was not.

  It’s for the best that you run, she thought, hiccoughing through the last of her sobs. You heard what he said to you, Lily. If you did not abort, and revealed your condition to anyone, he would ruin your family in every way possible.

  Lily swallowed a surge of bile, her fingers playing at her burning throat and chest. She could scarce believe the trouble she was in.

  Ruin your family, that’s what he said. You heard him. He was very plain. Yes, it is best that you leave, so that your disgrace may not infect those you love.

  She knew that it would not be appropriate for a man like Lord Felmingham to do business with a scandal tainted family, for he had told her so himself.

  However, it was his final words that continued to haunt her, as she made her journey far from London.

  “And, of course, I will deny everything, should you choose to speak out. Nobody will believe you.”

  She believed him, however.

  Now, travelling down an unfamiliar road, all on her own, she didn’t have any idea what she might do. All she could hope for was that Lord Felmingham would leave her family be, now that he’d ruined her. She truly felt as though the price had been paid; the agreement had been settled, at her own expense.

  Biting back tears, she wondered where she might find lodging once she stepped off the stagecoach at her unknown destination.

  It was another reason she did not wish to go as far as Bath — it was much too crowded and expensive, and she had but a shilling or two left to her name. It would not be enough for food and lodging, no matter where she ended up.

  One day at a time, Lily, one day at a time, she told herself, gazing out at the horizon to see a new dawn breaking.

  Chapter One

  A balmy evening drifted over the countryside, a bronzed sun beating down on the swaying grass, birds chirping in the willows that lined the country road. Lily had struggled to sleep, with her mind racing and the cast of travellers constantly changing around her. Indeed, she had very little idea of how long they had been travelling for, nor was she any closer to deciding where she might end up. Gazing out at the beautiful, verdant scenery and the dusky sky overhead, she could not shake the feeling of raw fear that coursed through her veins. She recognised nothing, nor did the crisp air make her breathe any easier. It simply felt like a reminder of how far from home she was.

  The stagecoach approached a settlement, moving into a cobblestoned town, she saw the signs for a baker, a blacksmith, and a butcher, amongst others that Lily’s tired eyes could not read in time, before the coach pulled to a halt in the busy yard of a large, thatched inn. The sign swinging outside marked it as the Bell and Whistle. Several patrons were already loitering outside, watching the stagecoach arrive. Lily ducked back into the darkness, hoping that it might somehow shield her from these strange folk. Perhaps, if she closed her eyes very tight, she might be transported back to the hustle and bustle of London.

  “Upper Nettlefold,” the driver called in a brusque g
rowl, clambering down from his box. “Those who’re getting off, get off. Those who’re staying on, you’ve got ten minutes to refresh yourselves.”

  It was now or never, and this seemed like as good a place as any. Steeling herself, and clutching the carpet-bag closer, she opened the stagecoach door and stepped out, bile rising up in her throat. Her chest gripped tight like a vice. The men standing by the entrance to the Bell and Whistle seemed curious, their eyes drawn to her in a way that made her skin tingle most unpleasantly, as though small creatures were crawling beneath. Men often looked at her in that manner, with her pretty face and fine features, though she did not welcome their attention.

  “You stopping or getting back on, Miss?” the driver asked, his voice softening.

  “I believe I shall be remaining here,” she replied nervously, looking around. The driver tipped his hat and flashed a smile.

  “Worse places to be. You got folks to stay with?”

  “Yes… an Aunt,” she lied.

  “Right, well you get to your Aunt’s place soon as you can. This town’s as safe as any, but I hate to see a young lady wandering about after dark in any circumstance.”

  “I will. Thank you, sir.”

  Picking a direction — any direction — Lily walked away from the stagecoach, her decision made. Upper Nettlefold was the chosen spot for her hiding place. Truly, it seemed like a quaint, beautiful sort of village which, in any other scenario, would have brought her a sense of peace. There was the rushing river which she had seen in the distance as they approached the town, and which played out a susurrating symphony to the evening sunset, and tidy store-fronts and houses, neatly arranged around clean streets and a square. She just hoped it was obscure enough that Lord Felmingham might never discover her here. With the sun going down, she picked up the pace of her anxious footsteps, the grip of terror refusing to leave her. She did not know this place; anyone could be watching her, wondering if she might make an easy target. Since encountering Lord Felmingham, she had come to distrust the integrity of all men, regardless of their station. They frightened her in a way that they had never done before. And, now that she had a child to worry for, she feared them even more.