Capturing the Earl

by A. S. Fenichel

  Geb was a friend of Nick’s first. He sold information as well as artifacts from the east. He might have many secrets, but he smiled as if he hadn’t anything to hide. “Ah, yes. I am a curiosity to the English gentry.”

  A shot of worry sliced through Mercy and she opened her mouth to defend her aunt.

  Aurora said, “Lady Phyllis Mattock is not like the other socialites you have met, Mr. Arafa. You will find her genuine. If she dislikes you, there will be no doubt in your mind about it.”

  The Wallflowers and Rhys laughed.

  “My aunt is very frank, Mr. Arafa, but as Aurora said, she is not like most of our contemporaries. She will judge you on your own merits and nothing else.” Mercy was sure Aunt Phyllis would like their host. He was charming and quick witted as well as loyal. They were all attributes her aunt admired.

  Mr. Arafa smiled. “I’m glad that when she wrote asking if she could bring an additional guest, I said it would me my pleasure to host whomever she wished. I would not want to get on the bad side of a woman who all of you ladies admire so.”

  “What?” Mercy blurted before she could contain her shock.

  Poppy rushed in with her usual candor. “Who on earth could she be bringing and why? I thought it was just to be Wallflowers and family.”

  Geb raised both hands helplessly. “I had the same thoughts but when Nicholas invited Lord Castlewick, I assumed it would be permissible for Lady Mattock to bring Mr. Colby.”

  Aurora’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Lord Castlewick,” she groaned.

  Eying her husband, Faith crossed her arms over her chest. “Nick, you didn’t?”

  With a shrug, Nick said, “He’s all the four of you talk about. I assumed having him here would expedite whatever scheme you’re about. Besides, I quite like Wes. He’s been a good friend to me and I see nothing wrong with balancing out the abundance of women I’m constantly surrounded by.”

  “Here, here,” said Rhys.

  Poppy turn on him. “Don’t tell me you had anything to do with this, husband.”

  Hands up in defeat, Rhys said, “No. However, Nick does make a valid point about the lack of men in our immediate circle.”

  Mercy couldn’t stop the wave of amused hysteria that washed through her. It began as a grin that she couldn’t push away and morphed into a giggle that shook her entire body. “It’s just all too ridiculous.”

  “Miss Heath, are you all right?” Geb sat across from her and leaned his elbows on his knees.

  “Please don’t tell me Lincoln Baker will be here as well.” The thought of another of her admirers with whom she had no interests had amused tears streaming from her eyes.

  Poppy began to laugh heartily with Mercy. “Or perhaps Decklan Garrott will be joining us.”

  “I say we invite every man who has ever taken an interest in a Wallflower to stay the fortnight.” Faith sat next to Mercy and wrapped an arm around her while they waited for their amusement to be spent.

  Aurora covered her mouth to hide her growing delight. “Indeed. That would be a relaxing time away from town.”

  Rhys stood. “We may as well leave them alone. They will not say a single reasonable thing while we’re in the room until this episode has passed.”

  Geb rose and followed the two married men from the salon, leaving the Wallflowers of West Lane alone.

  It was a few minutes before any of them could draw enough breath to speak. Finally, Poppy took a long gulp of air. “What shall we do?”

  Shaking her head, Mercy shrugged. “Nothing has changed. We shall convince Lord Castlewick he cannot marry Aurora, and I will avoid poor Mr. Colby despite my aunt’s continued attempts to find me a husband.”

  “You really can’t like him?” Faith took Mercy’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

  It would make her life easier if she could like Mr. Colby. He was smart, moderately wealthy, and a gentleman. He loved music and he was not bad looking. However…“I don’t love him and never could,” Mercy said. “Believe me, I wish he thrilled me in some way.”

  Aurora sat next to Poppy and sighed. “Perhaps it is not so important to love them as to tolerate, Mercy. You might even admire Mr. Colby. Would that not be worth having your own home and the opportunity for children?”

  “I find that surprising coming from you, Aurora.” Mercy held back the jolt of disappointment. Wallflowers never pushed marriage where there was no love. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  Poppy narrowed her gaze on Aurora. “I agree with Mercy. When did you decide that love was unnecessary? I can assure you; I would never have married your brother or anyone else had I not been helplessly in love.”

  Fussing with her lace on her light blue skirt, Aurora kept her gaze down. “You might be happy. There is no rule that says one must love to find contentment.”

  Mercy’s heart pounded against her ribs. “Do you wish for me to leave West Lane, Aurora? Is that why you are advocating I marry where I do not love?”

  Aurora’s golden blond hair quivered around her face as she stared, mouth agape. “No!” Reaching forward, she took Mercy’s hand. “I love having you with me and wish heartily all four of us still lived together.” She released her grip and clutched her fingers together. “It is only that I don’t wish to be selfish. It occurred to me that you might be thwarting interested men because you worry about leaving me alone. I would never wish that. You should have your own house and a family.”

  Relief flooded Mercy and she let her shoulders relax. “I am perfectly content at West Lane. I don’t think Aunt Phyllis would object to my staying with her either. I have options, which is more than most women in my circumstance can say. I will probably marry one day and Mr. Colby is not a bad option.”

  Pressure built behind Mercy’s eyes, but she swallowed down the flood of doubt and disappointment.

  Faith sighed. “I think we should enjoy our fortnight in Parvus and not let the whims of men deter our good time. Let Lord Castlewick do as he might, Aurora will ignore him or cast him off.”

  “Mr. Colby is mild mannered enough to push aside any advances on Mercy’s time.” Poppy crossed her arms over her chest and lifted one hand to force a wayward hair out of her eyes.

  Nodding, Aurora wrapped her arm around Poppy’s shoulders. “You are right. I have no intention of accepting any offer and his lordship will eventually have to come to understand that, as will my mother. We will have a lovely stay here and then make a quick trip up to Cheshire and see what all the fuss is about. After that, I will go back to my life in West Lane and Mercy can decide if any of the men vying for her attention are of interest.”

  Mercy laughed a bit too loud. “All the men…I hardly would make it sound so grand, Aurora.”

  Poppy cocked her head. “There are at least three that we know of, Mercy. You have choices beyond West Lane or being a companion to your aunt.”

  Her three dearest friends stared at her expectantly, but she had no good response. At least not one that made logical sense in her circumstance. “I will think about my options, but I see no need to marry. I’m happy at West Lane and I certainly don’t love Mr. Colby, Mr. Baker, or Mr. Garrott. They are gentlemen, that is true, but none of them do I regard with any particular affection.”

  Faith sighed. “You shouldn’t have to settle.”

  “Everyone settles,” Aurora said.

  Faith’s eyes softened as she made a futile attempt to put her wayward curls back into the chignon. “You are speaking from your own experience, Aurora. You had little choice but to marry where your father ordered. We were very young and had no way of knowing what a monster Radcliff would be. Mercy is not in your situation. Her aunt would never force her to marry and we can protect her if need be. I would like to see all four of us happy rather than married to men we cannot like.”

  “That is easy to say since you have a husband who loves you and is ki
nd.” Aurora’s tone was even, but fire lit her bright blue eyes.

  Reaching across the gap, Faith offered Aurora her hand. “You are right, of course. That doesn’t make it less true though, does it, Aurora?”

  Aurora took Faith’s hand in both of hers. “No. I’m sorry. And, Mercy, I owe you an apology as well. You shouldn’t marry where your heart cannot follow. I think all this interference in my life by Mother and Lord Castlewick has put me in a bad temper.”

  Poppy put her hand on top of Aurora’s. “Not to worry. Wallflowers always protect each other.”

  Mercy topped the pile with her own hand. “That’s right. No one will ever harm one of us again.”

  “Never again,” they all repeated.

  * * * *

  “I’m not angry, Aunt Phyllis. I just don’t know why you brought Mr. Colby to Parvus. It was supposed to be a quiet retreat for friends.” Mercy sat by the writing desk in the room assigned to her aunt.

  Geb had recently decorated all the rooms at Parvus, giving them a fresh, cozy feel. The curtains in Phyllis’s room were the color of a peach sunrise and went very well with the cream coverlet. The furniture was simple and elegant, with the bed, a nightstand, the writing desk and chair, and one overstuffed chair facing the fireplace.

  “He is a nice man who seeks me out at every opportunity to ask after you. He loves music and I am convinced he loves you quite ardently. This was the perfect opportunity to see if you might gain some affection for him as well.” Aunt Phyllis supervised her maid’s care of her dresses.

  There was little point arguing. Her aunt had her best interest at heart. “I’m sure he does not love me. He loves the music and perhaps loves to listen to me play, but he doesn’t know me well enough to determine if he has those deeper feelings.”

  The wrinkles around Aunt Phyllis’s eyes deepened as she reined in her grin. “Then this will be a fine time for him to get to know you better. And—that means you and the rest of the girls are not to run him off at any opportunity the way you have with poor Lord Castlewick.”

  Mercy’s mouth opened to argue, but Phyllis held up a hand to stop her.

  “I know your game, niece. Don’t deny it. It does you a disservice to fib. Besides, I don’t know why anyone would object to Castlewick and Aurora. They are a fine fit socially.”

  “Aurora does not wish to remarry and that is enough of a reason.” Mercy stood and crossed her arms over her chest. She might let her aunt dictate her behavior, but she would not allow her to bully Aurora.

  A softening of her aunt’s eyes told her the argument was at an end. “Then Aurora should tell him so. If she breaks his heart, then at least she didn’t also waste his time.”

  Mercy’s scoff escaped before she could stop it. “Castlewick does not love Aurora. He just wants that land she owns and she is a convenient means to obtaining it.”

  “How can you know what is in the man’s heart, Mercedes?” Phyllis dismissed her maid, Ann. “Do you know more of him than I am aware?”

  Oh lord, she’d said too much without thinking. “No. I only know what I’ve seen and deduced the rest. Besides, men like Wesley Renshaw think they can have any woman they want. He is on some kind of conquest to win Aurora and has used her mother to get closer than he ever should have. The dowager will be able to tell all her friends that Aurora landed not one but two earls in marriage. She lives for such things.”

  Phyllis sat on the edge of the bed. “Jemima Draper can be a bit shortsighted, but I don’t think she means any harm. She only wants her daughter to be protected, just as I want that for you.”

  It was best to steer away from her own safety. “Aurora is a rich widow. She is perfectly safe. She has land and a house in London. She has no need for a husband and certainly not another one who cares more for his own needs than hers.”

  “You cannot know what his lordships needs are, Mercedes. You might gather more information before you judge the man so harshly.” Standing, Phyllis brushed out her skirt. “In the meantime, give Mr. Colby a chance. He really does dote over you.”

  Mercy stifled the long sigh building in her chest and stood. “I will be polite, Aunt Phyllis. I promise no more than that.”

  “And you won’t avoid him for the entire fortnight?” Phyllis’s brows rose high over her piercing green eyes.

  “Since I hate to disappoint you more than I can say, I will give Mr. Colby some of my time.” Mercy kissed her aunt’s cheek. “But don’t get the idea that I’ll marry him, Aunt. I will just be polite to him as he has come all this way and he does seem sincere in his enjoyment of my music.”

  Ann had placed Phyllis’s jewelry on the table to be put away. Mercy fingered the broach that had been in her father’s family for generations. A round diamond sat in the center with more to create a starburst. Small sapphires punctuated each tip. “This always makes me think of my parents.”

  Next to her, Phyllis sighed. “It makes me think of my parents as well. Mother wore it each year to the country ball they would throw. She gave it to your father when he married and your mother wore it often. She loved it so.”

  “I have never seen you wear it, Aunt.” Mercy scanned her memory of some time when she had seen the bauble on her Aunt.

  “No. I have never worn it. I do so like to have it near though. A reminder of those we have lost.” She gave Mercy’s shoulder a squeeze and crossed to the wardrobe, where Ann had hung three gowns to be examined. “Does one dress for dinner here?”

  Mercy turned away from the jewels and swallowed the emotions that thoughts of her mother and father always conjured. “Yes. Of course. You will find that Mr. Arafa embraces most English customs, though without all the judgment.”

  Patting her graying hair into place, Aunt Phyllis flashed a smile. “What does that mean?”

  “Only that if you choose to arrive at dinner in your dressing gown, he would still treat you like an honored guest.”

  A deep rumble of laughter reminded Mercy of her youth and all the good days she’d spent with her aunt. “I hope you are not warning me that you will be dining in your nightclothes.”

  Mercy’s face warmed. “I will wear my green gown. I’m not daring enough to shock anyone.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You may not be at the level of the English housekeeper who wears a turban, but you are interesting in your own right.”

  Frowning, Mercy wasn’t sure what her aunt meant. Unwilling to open up some topic she might regret, she focused on the first comment. “Do you mind Mr. Arafa and his unusual household, Aunt Phyllis?”

  Phyllis touched the silky cuff of her russet gown. “On the contrary, my dear. I am intrigued by the way things are done here. The very tall butler is particularly interesting. I have never seen a man so tall or a servant who made one feel as welcomed. Perhaps it is his voice, but I felt sure I would be safe in this home as long as the butler was present.”

  “Kosey is devoted to Mr. Arafa and a very fine musician as well.” Mercy had played a duet with the butler and she liked him too. She could see what her aunt meant. He did give off an air of capability.

  “Indeed. How singular to have a servant who can play. This will be quite a house party I think.” Phyllis sighed. “I must rest for an hour before dressing for dinner. Will you come and collect me when it is time to go down?”

  Giving her aunt another hug, Mercy said, “I’ll collect you at six thirty. We all generally gather in the salon before dinner.”

  “Very good. Send Ann back in, please, my dear. Oh, and you look a bit pale. It’s a fine day. If you will not rest, you might get out in the fresh air.”

  Mercy nodded as she left the room.

  Ann waited in the hall and curtsied to Mercy before going to tend her mistress.

  The mirror on the landing proved that Aunt Phyllis was quite right. She did look wan. Too much time indoors and in carriages over the last few weeks.
Rushing back up to her room, she gathered a light shawl and determined to take her aunt’s advice.

  Chapter 8

  Wesley arrived at the small castle while most of the guests were resting. He’d spoken to Mr. Arafa for half an hour before excusing himself to settle into his room. Once in the well-appointed bedroom, he’d been restless. There were several hours before he’d need to dress for dinner. He’d been cooped up in a carriage for several days and he hated to sit alone in his room. He searched the house for some company, but finding none he opted for a bit of exercise.

  The gardens were managed but wild. Not at all in the style of most English homes.

  A hunched man with a wheeled barrel rounded the corner and stopped to stare at him.

  Wesley wasn’t accustomed to servants staring, so he stared back. “May I help you, good man?”

  “You look like a lord of something to me.” His voice was rough and direct.

  “Castlewick,” Wesley said on a laugh.

  The man bowed. “Well, my lord, what do you think?”

  “About what?”

  “My gardens, of course.”

  “They are not what one would expect of an English home, but I can see while it all looks quite wild there is a specific order to it as well. I’m fond of wild roses and the evergreens are likely a wonderful staple in winter. The mugwort is a nice touch, but the nightshade seems a bit out of place.” In so short an exploration, that was as much as Wesley could report.

  Having abandoned his cart, the man studied the blooming plant and then Wesley. “I thought it would give a bit of color to the area, but you may be right. I’ll think about moving it to the east side of the garden where it might make more sense.”

  “You are the groundskeeper I presume?”

  “MacGruder, my lord. You have a keen eye for gardening.”

  “I enjoy a well-thought-out plan and I see you have a great deal of time invested here. I hope to explore more today with the weather being so fine.” Wesley eyed the path where it disappeared around a wild rose bush that sprawled over a trellis.