The Beauty and the Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hamilton, Hanna

  His last word cracked like a whip. The women all but jostled into one another trying to get out the door the fastest. The footmen half carried, half dragged their groaning fellow on the women’s heels. Even the servants at the tables who took no part in trying to run Cornelia off fled the room, leaving her with the man. When his icy eyes met hers, she thought it best to pay him his respects.

  “Sir.” Cornelia curtsied, and kept her face downward.

  “Miss Hill,” he said, his voice still angry, “I am Latham North, His Lordship’s steward. He asked me to find you, as you are to answer directly to me in your new duties.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He sighed. “Please look at me.”

  Unflinching, Cornelia gazed up at his face. He tried to smile, but as his fury had not dimmed by much, it was a rather lopsided affair. “I apologize for their behavior, Miss Hill. I would guess that was not your first time being confronted by a hostile mob.”

  “No, Mr. North.”

  “I saw everything, so have no fear that Lord Rochester will lay any blame on you. They will face punishment, I assure you.”

  “That will only make things worse, Mr. North.”

  He made an unpleasant noise with his lips, and nodded. “You’re quite right. It will. But Lord Rochester’s desires are clear – anyone who treats you badly must face punishment. Not doing so will encourage them to attack you again. In making them face their wrongs, they will blame you.”

  “That cannot be helped, sir. However, whatever comes of it, I will be ready.”

  Mr. North suddenly smiled. “Just where did a little girl like you learn to fight?”

  “I was beaten by a mob, sir, similar to that one,” she said slowly, not liking to remember their fists, their boots in her ribs, her belly. The pain, the humiliation, the terror. “There was a man in Baron Barrett’s circus who showed me how to fight, to show no mercy, for they will show me none. Even though I would stand all day in that case, I would practice at night, keep my muscles strong. I swore I would never be beaten again.”

  “You are a remarkable young woman, Miss Hill. Come with me, please. I must show you His Lordship’s library and how to find the books you need. If you have any difficulties, my office is right down the hall from the library.”

  “Thank you, Mr. North.”

  Rubbing her sore knuckles and wrist, Cornelia followed him out of the servant’s quarters in the east wing of the vast house and to the library, passing servants who bowed or curtsied to the Lord’s steward. Naturally, she received curious stares as to why the newest servant would accompany him thus, and felt their eyes on her back like hideous, crawling insects. Holding her head high, she ignored them as she had others all her life.

  * * *

  Archie groaned and put his head in his hands. “They sure didn’t waste any time,” he muttered, feeling sick at the pit of his stomach.

  “My Lord?”

  He lifted his face and peered blearily at Latham. “The servants. They wasted no time in letting Miss Hill know she was not welcome among them.”

  “If I may, My Lord?”

  Archie gestured a weary permission, wondering how in the hell he was supposed to punish these miscreants without it splashing muck all over Cornelia. They would never forgive her their punishment, and may try something else much sneakier or more harmful the next time.

  “Grant them a mild punishment,” Latham suggested. “Let them know you are displeased. Then let Miss Hill earn their respect.”

  Archie snorted. “How? By letting them beat her into a pulp?”

  Latham grinned. “By letting them try, My Lord. Believe me, that little woman can hold her own. By your leave, I will take her aside and teach her some very nasty tricks they will never see coming.”

  “And what will that prove, Latham? That she can fight? Then they will throw their meanest at her, and she will get hurt.”

  “No, they will not. And she will not. I have seen this before, and I can predict the outcome. They know she can fight, she dropped Benjamin Anders as easily as a professional boxer. She has already earned some respect, and she has won some admiration among the staff. They will throw their meanest at her, and that’s where my teachings come in.”

  “So you will teach this lady dirty fighting?”

  “Yes, indeed. And once she puts him on the ground, she will have no more trouble from anyone here.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Archie drummed his fingers on the table top. “I cannot say that I like it. Nor can I say that you’re wrong, either. I like her, Latham. I don’t want her hurt.”

  “After what I saw this morning, the hurt will be on their meanest.”

  “Just who might their meanest be? Anyone I know?”

  “I believe you do. Shelton Hamden. Your brother hired him as an assistant to the coachman, but he is ex-Army. He fought in France.”

  “No.” Archie stood up and paced to the window of his study. “That cannot be permitted to happen, Latham. He will hurt her and badly.”

  “My Lord.”

  Archie turned to face him, his gut clenched.

  “If you do not permit her this, she will forever be hounded by the staff. As long as she is here, she will have no peace, and neither will you.”

  “How can I forgive myself if she gets hurt?” Archie snapped. “How could I look myself in the mirror? Latham, there must be another way.”

  “Yes, of course. Send Miss Hill away.”

  “Dammit, no. I swore to protect her. Now you tell me the best way to protect her is to throw her to the wolves.”

  Latham slowly shook his head, an odd smile on his rugged face. “It is the wolves who should fear her.”

  An hour later, on numb feet, Archie strode slowly and thoughtfully, down the hall to the library. Mrs. Cates curtsied to him outside the door, her expression tight and grim. “I would hear your recommendations as a fitting punishment, My Lord,” she grated, hardly able to keep her anger reined in.

  “Yes. I will certainly let you know, Mrs. Cates. Where are the offenders?”

  “Confined to quarters. I’m making them stew for a bit.”

  Archie grinned. “You are a right devil, Mrs. Cates. Please, will you chaperone again?”

  “I would be proud to.”

  Opening the door, he found Cornelia ensconced at a desk, perusing a book. Leaping to her feet, she swept low in a curtsy. “My Lord. I was not expecting you.”

  He offered her a wry smile. “With me, Miss Hill, expect me when you least expect me. Now about this morning.”

  “I apologize. Knowing how people feel about my – difference, I should perhaps not eat or mingle with the servants.”

  “This is my home, Miss Hill,” he snapped, growing angry that she should blame herself. “No one defies my rule under my roof, and that includes the staff and you. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  “It is my fault for placing you in this position,” he went on, still angry. “I trusted them to behave and I am deeply disappointed. You acted with courage in defending yourself, and thus I will not hold you accountable. However, they will be docked a month’s salary. Mrs. Cates? See to it. A month’s salary. When it hits their pocketbooks, they might just see the error of their ways.”

  Cornelia’s lavender eyes met his. “They will try again. Their resentment will feed them, burn hotter.”

  “They might. That is why you will begin hand to hand combat lessons under Latham North.”

  For the first time, Archie witnessed Cornelia’s outer protective shell shatter. Her eyes sparkled with tears, but none tracked down her cheeks. Yet, he could not tell if she was overjoyed or frightened silly. “If that is your wish, I will endeavor to learn.”

  For a moment, Archie wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and hold her close, to apologize, and beg her forgiveness for his inability to protect her from his own staff, much less the people she ran from. “It is my wish, Miss Hill. While I am – forced to stand aside in this, I
would not see you harmed. Mr. North feels that by gaining their respect, they will not annoy you further.”

  A tiny smile creased her pale features. “Mr. North is quite correct. I have been in this situation before, and while I abhor violence, sometimes it is the only means to peace.”

  Archie laughed. “You are very wise, Miss Hill. Pray tell, how are your studies going?”

  Cornelia gestured to the stacks of books on the desk. “As you see here, I have much learning to do. Some I already know of, such as suturing wounds and setting broken bones, but there is much that is new to me. Much herb lore, poisons, how to counter them.”

  “I will send for the apothecary today,” Archie said. “I will ask her to stay as long as possible to teach you, but I know she also has a shop to run.”

  “I will welcome her tutoring, My Lord.”

  “Then I will leave you. Oh, by the way, you will no longer be staying in the servants’ quarters.”

  Cornelia gazed at him, her brow puckered in confusion.

  “Mrs. Cates, see to it she is moved into the guest suite.” Archie smirked at Cornelia. “And she will need more suitable clothing. Send for a seamstress to create more appropriate gowns for her.”

  “Right away, My Lord.”

  “You do realize this move will provoke the servants further,” Cornelia said slowly. “This will enrage them.”

  “If anyone has an issue with where you reside, Miss Hill, they can come see me. Now, I will leave you to your work.”

  With Mrs. Cates on his heels, he strode out of the library, realizing fully that he had indeed just thrown Cornelia to the wolves with his own hands. I’m making it obvious she is my favorite, and that will not go over well at all. He refused to regret it, however. He wanted her out of the servants’ quarters for both her own safety as well as her new status as the household physician. “Physicians don’t reside in the servants’ quarters,” he muttered under his breath.

  “My Lord?”

  He had forgotten Mrs. Cates still tagged behind him. “Just talking to myself. Was there something?”

  “I am going to the east wing to inform those women what their punishment is and set them to work.”

  “Ah, very good. Please also inform Mr. Sanders of it. Oh, and make certain Mr. Anders is on duty and clearly visible. He will not be permitted to skulk in hideaway places where he might hide the damage Miss Hill inflicted.”

  Mrs. Cates grinned broadly, startling Archie. He had never seen her grin before. “Very good, My Lord. Between you and me, I heard he has a right problem walking.”

  “If I were a cruel master, I should send him running to London with an urgent message,” Archie grumbled, but returned her grin. “Making him walk and stand for long hours today might make him reflect upon his lack of wisdom. Carry on.”

  Striding out onto the veranda, Archie paused to breathe in deep and flush his annoyances away. He gazed out over the rolling moors, the sheep and cattle in their pastures, to search for an inner peace his life had lacked for so long. Deep down, he knew the source of that newly discovered sensation – Cornelia. She had come into his life only a few days ago, and already gave him new purpose.

  Norris showed him the newly devised latch on Bucephalus’s stall door. “He’ll need more than lips to unfasten that, m’lord,” Norris said with a satisfied grin. “Combination of chain and snaps. Needs opposable thumbs, he will.”

  Bucephalus himself, eyes bright with curiosity, examined Archie’s hands as he took a look at the contraption, his head hanging over his door. Archie rubbed his sleek face and played with the stallion’s ears. “No more venturing about for you, lad,” he said. “Especially at night over the hills.”

  “He’s a clever one, that’s for certain,” Norris commented dryly. “I’ve never seen a horse open latches the way he has.”

  “Nor I.”

  William, Bucephalus’s groom, trotted toward them, knuckling his still swollen brow. “My Lord,” he said, “there are men approaching the house from across the fields. They don’t appear like ordinary visitors. I think you should come quick.”

  Chapter 8

  Baron Barrett stared at his workmen, sweat sliding down his ribs and spine under his colorful robes. He wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand. “What do you mean, she’s not anywhere to be found?”

  “We searched every house in the village, boss,” Harold, his crew leader, informed him. “We checked the inn, asked everyone we saw. No one has seen her. No one in the village is sheltering her.”

  “That’s impossible,” Barrett stated firmly, turning away to pace restlessly. “She can’t have gone far. She has no people, no skills at surviving in the wild.” He spun suddenly. “Can she have found sanctuary in a church or monastery?”

  Harold shook his head. “Not at the village church, boss. We looked. The nearest monastery is more than a hundred miles away.”

  Cursing, Barrett resumed his sweating and pacing. “Maybe she got killed,” he muttered. “Something out there got her, perhaps. A roaming criminal murdered her.”

  “We’d have found her body, boss.”

  “There is one other place, boss,” the other workman, Frank, spoke up. “The manor of the Earl of Rochester is not far away.”

  Barrett froze. “He gave me permission to set up on his lands. These are his fields we’re on. If we make him angry, he might demand us to leave. I can’t find Cornelia if I am forced to move.”

  “Ask him nicely then.”

  Eyeing Mortimer, sitting quietly on a stool in a corner, Barrett glowered at the hunchback. “Just knock on his door and ask him if he has seen a freakishly white woman with strange eyes wandering about his estates?”

  “That might work.” Mortimer returned Barrett’s glare with a smirk. “She might have taken refuge there.”

  “Hardly,” Barrett snorted, pacing again. “No self-respecting peer of the realm would want Cornelia on his property. Except me, of course.”

  “Of course.” The sarcasm in Mortimer’s tone made Barrett clench his teeth together. “And her buyer is not a noble?”

  “I have no idea who her buyer is, and you know that,” Barrett snapped. “He might be a wealthy merchant for all I know. He may want her to entertain his business associates while he robs them blind.”

  “She might be hiding in His Lordship’s barns or stables, boss,” Harold suggested. “She can only be out at night, so they may not see her at all. They may not know she’s there.”

  “Good thought,” Barrett nodded, savagely chewing his lower lip. “The buyer’s man will return in the morning, demanding her. But we can’t just march into Rochester’s stables and search them. We’ll have to set a watch on the place.”

  “So what will you tell Thomas, boss?” Mortimer asked, his eyes sly. “That she’s still sick?”

  “I have little choice,” Barrett snapped, his fears growing. The buyer was no man to be messing about with. The chap was a cold one, he recalled, cold and dangerous, and had few qualms about killing. If Cornelia was not turned over to him soon – Barrett shuddered at the thought. “Send Felix and Maurice to Rochester. Perhaps they might persuade the good Earl to permit them to search his barns.”

  Mortimer picked his nails with a small knife. “Smart move, boss. Intimidating a man of power like Rochester will naturally get you what you want.”

  “Shut up, you little rat,” Barrett screamed. “We will search his property whether he wants us there or not.

  * * *

  Making himself inconspicuous, Thomas watched as the workmen from Barrett’s little circus knocked on doors in the village, entered them whether the resident wished them to or not, and did not find any trace of the pale girl his master bought and paid for. While he wanted to revel in Barrett’s deadly predicament, he himself was in that same situation. It mattered not that it was hardly his fault Barrett Hill permitted the wench to escape.

  To his master, it only mattered that Thomas failed to bring her.

  H
e would arrive at Hill’s tent in the morning, and he already knew the girl would not be presented to him. It crossed his mind to flee, to run, perhaps to Ireland, and start a new life, well away from his dangerous master. He knew, however, that he would fail in that as well. He would be found, and the consequences for running would be far worse than admitting his failure and begging for mercy.