Once Upon an Earl_Heirs of High Society_A Regency Romance Book

by Eleanor Meyers

  “No, you can’t ask me now!” She tried to wiggle away, but his hands gripped her close. “You have to wait. Surprise me.”

  He laughed then. “I knew what I was getting my hands into the moment I saw you. You are every bit a lady. So demanding.”

  She scoffed. “Well, it will be good practice for when you’re officially made a gentleman.”

  He lifted her head and said, “According to the world, I will be an earl, but you will always know the truth.”

  She smiled. “Yes. I will always know it was a ruffian who captured my heart.”

  “And he loves every part of you.” And with that, he kissed her.

  And less than an hour later, he proposed again, surprising Samantha who in turn laughed and readily accepted.

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  EPILOGUE

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  July 1817

  “I liked the first property,” Alexandra said. “The house was quite charming.”

  “Yes,” Rose agreed. “And there was plenty of land and a lovely stable.”

  “And the possibilities for the interior were endless,” Rachel added before looking between Nash and Samantha. “What do you think?”

  What did Nash think? He believed the journey would have been better had he and his wife made it alone, but Samantha had shared their plans with her new sisters the other evening, and the women had decided to join them for the trip, whether Nash wish for it or not.

  Samantha grabbed his hand, as though knowing he needed her comfort at the moment. They’d been married for a fortnight, and in that time he’d learned his how courageous and strong his wife could be. He hadn’t known he could love a woman as deeply as he did now, but every day, he felt that feeling was renewed, strengthened.

  “I thought you didn’t like the first property,” Samantha said.

  “Well, compared to the last property…” Rachel turned her blue eyes to the other women. Her red hair a fiery contrast to the black interior of Nash’s new carriage. “The three we’ve seen since then were terrible.”

  “Terrible,” Rose agreed as she waved a thin hand at her face. “I’m glad you asked us to come along to guide you.”

  Nash held back from rolling his eyes. No one had asked any of them to come. He glanced over and saw Sam bite her lip to hold back a laugh. Alexandra asked him, “How many more are there to see?”

  “One.” Yet even if there had been a dozen more, he was too tired to go on. Nash had taken them to the property he’d thought the best, first, and in his own mind he’d imagined that visit to be the first and the last.

  But then Alexandra had taken hold of his list and declared they had to see every property in the area, strategically mapping their way around the south country, close to her father’s own seat in Oakmont and Strickland. The area was close enough to the city for Nash and Samantha to frequent whenever they wished, while allowing him to continue working.

  The carriage turned down the road that headed west towards the setting sun. They would be resting at Mrs. Weston’s for the evening since she was closer than the city.

  The final property came into view and the woman gasped in horror.

  Even Samantha.

  Alexandra turned to Nash. “Well, there’s truly no point in going in, is there?”

  Nash turned to the window and started at the house. It was larger than the others, but needed great amounts of work, to be sure. “We’ll have a look.”

  “Maybe you should look at properties further from the city,” Rachel suggested as the carriage came to a stop.

  Sam rubbed her hand over Nash, soothing him just as his blood began to simmer in his veins. “Let’s… have a look.” She looked at Nash warily and then stepped out of the carriage.

  Closer to the house, the disrepair became more visible. The wide steps that led up to the front door were broken. The white pillars were stained with dirt, as was most of the house. One of the windows was broken.

  “No.” Alexandra said. “Let’s return to the carriage.”

  “You return,” Nash hissed and grabbed his wife’s hand. “We’re going inside.” He propelled Sam forward, helped her up the stairs, and didn’t bother to knock. The owner had already told him he’d find the home open. The interior reeked of something that had died likely a week ago.

  Samantha didn’t complain. Pulling out her handkerchief she covered her nose and turned to him. “Lead the way, husband.”

  He did. The wallpaper was coming down in nearly every room, but as promised the walls were solid, as were the floors. He took her upstairs and showed her the rooms. There was a room that would make the perfect nursery and another that would likely suit his mother.

  Lady Brandell was currently at the family estate in the far north, preparing for Nash and Samantha’s arrival in another fortnight. There was so much for Nash to learn about being an earl and much more to learn about his father. His mother would help, as would his brothers and even his irritating sisters, who were all married to earls.

  “We could always take my father’s other property,” Samantha said. “He did offer it to us and it’s close to the city.” Just as he’d offered to walk with Samantha for her wedding, to the new Earl of Brandell. Nash still didn’t like him, but for Samantha’s sake, he’d deal with him. That didn’t mean he’d take property from a man who’d despised him, when he thought him worth less than the average commoner.

  He leaned against the doorframe and stared at the face of the woman he hoped would someday bear his children. “I’ll not accept his charity, especially when I can afford to get my wife whatever she desires.”

  A second passed between them, and he asked, “Do you want me to accept his offer?” He would hate doing it, but if it would make her happy...

  She touched his cheek. “No. I’ll not have it come between us.”

  He smiled. “You’re quite charming when you readily agree with me.”

  She laughed and turned away. “Well, there’s so many other things we will fight about. I’d rather save my energy for later.”

  He chuckled.

  “Your mother will like this,” Samantha said, as she glanced over the room. “Once it’s… restored to order she’d enjoy it. The windows. She still likes to sit by them and think of your father.”

  He knew, because he’d joined her often over the last two months whenever he wasn’t occupied with Samantha, or matters that pertained to the responsibility of his title. When she started to move across the room towards the windows that faced north, he pulled her away just as he’d done downstairs, not yet ready for her to see the garden.

  He took into the mistress’ bed chamber next. “Will we share a room?” Samantha asked at the door. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her shoulder. It was the first private moment he’d had with her since breakfast. His wife shivered in his grip and he kissed her again. “You may put whatever you wish into this room, but we’ll have no need for two beds.”

  She turned in his arms and kissed him fully on the lips. Her arms went around his neck. “I’ve missed you.”

  It didn’t matter that they’d been at one another’s side all day. They were greedy for one another.

  “I’ve missed you more,” he growled as he locked his hands at her hips and pulled her closer.

  He heard when his sisters came in downstairs. They began to fuss about the smell. Loudly.

  Nash pulled away. “I’m going to abandon them on the side of the road. They can find their own way back to London.”

  Samantha laughed, her hazel eyes still darkened by passion. “You’ll do no such thing. They love you.” Her fingers played through his hair. “Now, may I see the garden? I know you’re keeping it away from me.”

  He grinned. The gardens were the reason Nash had selected the properties he had. His sisters, while their points of the house were valid, hadn’t seen Samantha’s vision for a garden that was close to paradi
se.

  “Just a few more rooms, and then I’ll let you see it.” He took her to the bedchamber they would share, and a few of the other guest rooms before taking her down the sweeping staircase and towards the foyer.

  He could hear his sisters in the kitchen. Screaming. They’d likely found the dead animal.

  He tightened his hold on Samantha and nearly rushed her to the back terrace. He opened the doors.

  She gasped louder than before, and when Nash turned he was dismayed at the sight. The entire yard seemed to be in disarray. Bushes sprouted where they pleased. There was the promised pond, and the creek that led into the woods beyond. A few strategic rocks rested here and there, but everything had vines overgrowing upon them. In all, it seemed just as abandoned as the rest of the house.

  He looked at Samantha again and saw tears in her eyes. “You loathe it that much?” He cursed carelessly, which was something else he was working to correct. “Never mind it, then. We’ll leave and—”

  Samantha’s arms went around his neck and she kissed him again before shouting, “Oh, I love it! Thank you! You’re the very best husband, in all of England.”

  He smiled. “I don’t think I could be the best. All I know, is I wish to make you happy.”

  Her tears fell. “I love it.”

  “You love it?” Alexandra asked from the doorway. She looked around, and then looked at Samantha and Nash before smiling. “Well, the kitchen is spacious...”

  “And you’ll be able to make the walls to anything you wish,” Rachel grinned. “Just imagine what we could do with so many rooms.”

  “And did you see the library?” Rose asked. “You could hold over a dozen collections on the walls.”

  “Lovely choice,” Alex said, and then she left, as did Rose and Rachel who gave them soft smiles.

  Nash turned back to Samantha. “Are you sure you wish to be a Smith?”

  “I’m more sure, every day.”

  As was he.

  * * *

  While you are waiting for the next book …

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  PROLOGUE

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  The spring morning dawned cool and lovely, a pearly light blessing everything it touched with a soft gleam. The only discordant note in the symphony of the morning was the scent of gunpowder on the air and, of course, the bleeding, swearing man on the ground.

  Lucas Tolland, Marquis of Campion, cleaned his pearl-handled pistol with calm and unshaking hands before returning it to the case held by Marcus Flyte, his second. He glanced down at the man on the ground, whose own second was trying to bandage with little success.

  "I shall want the pistol returned to me cleaned. At your convenience, of course, Wentworth."

  The Earl of Wentworth spat on the ground between them. From the furious gleam in his eye, he would have liked to do more.

  "Damn you, you bastard. I'll see you in hell for these offenses."

  Lucas's jade-green eyes traveled to the pistol that lay on the ground next to Wentworth, and his mouth quirked into a sardonic smile.

  "I believe you tried. It was a good attempt, I suppose, though I've seen better."

  "And God willing, you demon, sometime soon, someone will succeed. Then you can shake hands with the devil in hell."

  Lucas laughed. "And if I meet him, then I will surely be giving him your regards. As I understand it, Satan and cuckolds have their horns in common, at least."

  Despite the pain and the blood spewing from his shoulder, Wentworth tried to lunge at Lucas, who only took a disdainful step back.

  He and Marcus made their way to the carriage waiting at the base of the hill.

  Lucas shook his head.

  "My God, what a terrible mess."

  Marcus raised an eyebrow. "I don't think the Countess of Wentworth would care to hear you speak so about her."

  "I doubt she's going to be hearing much in general. Last I heard, Melissa took herself off to the waters in Italy, claiming a need for their restorative powers."

  "Well, her husband and her lover in a duel would make anyone take to their heels, I suppose."

  Lucas leaned back against the carriage seat. A strange sort of exhaustion crept over him, and it had nothing to do with carousing all night and only being reminded three hours before the fact by the diligent Marcus that he had a duel at the crack of dawn.

  No, there was something simply exhausting about everything right this moment—about London, about the sweet-faced women who seemed to flock to his side whether he was at Almack's or down in the stews, about the disgruntled gentlemen who seemed to take exception to this fact.

  "I think I need to get out of London for a while."

  Marcus nodded. "I certainly think that would be wise. The scandal that is going to start up after news of your duel with Wentworth gets out is going to be a bit of a tempest. That's wiser than you usually are though. Is all well?"

  Lucas hesitated. He wanted to say that it was. He was the same man he had been before, the same licentious rake who did mostly as he pleased and typically handled the consequences with aplomb. Right now, however, he wasn't sure he could say that truthfully, and whatever else he was, he was not a liar.

  "I don't know. Hell, perhaps I should go to Italy and take in the waters myself. London seems so dull right now."

  "London is one of the greatest cities in the world, and if you are feeling bored, the answer might, in fact, be to leave. Perhaps I can help you with that."

  Lucas gave his friend a wary look. "Does this have anything to do with my needing to be dragged out of the stews a few hours ago? I had honestly forgotten about the duel, and I am sorry to have made you ride all over London like a madman looking for me."

  Marcus laughed. "I wish I were as sinister as you make me out to be. No. I have a cottage near West Riding in Yorkshire. Humble place, kept with only a housekeeper and a manservant, but pleasant enough. I had been meaning to go up and check on it for ages, but the opportunity never arose. Perhaps you can head up, rusticate for a few weeks, and then return to London after the rumors have died down."

  Lucas opened his mouth to decline Marcus's offer, because West Riding was hardly an entertaining place to spend a few weeks, but then he considered it. Perhaps going to some rustic stop along the mail coach route was exactly what he needed. At the very least, he might return able to look at London with fresh new eyes.

  "All right, count me in. I suppose I must be northward bound."

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  1

  CHAPTER

  ONE

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  The Waverly estates were one of the most ancient in England, and Hartford Hall, the seat of the Waters family sat upon them like a jewel on a queen's breast. That was what Clarine's father had always said, and those were the words that echoed in her ears as she sneaked out of the hall at the first crack of dawn.

  Clarine knew that she was a countess now. She knew that she was the richest woman in the county, and that there were people who would kill to have her new place in the world. Some of them had even...

  Clarine shook her head, refusing to think more about it. She could go back to the gloomy contemplation of her strange situation when she returned to Hartford Hall and all of its attendant problems. Right now, the fair was in town and, clothed in one of her old dresses from the time before her father had died, she was going to have some fun.

  The town of Waverly itself was bright and bustling, and the fair brought in people from all over the countryside, as well as the wandering vendors and merchants that made their living at such places. Dressed in a plain gown of pale blue and with her hair covered in a demure an
d slightly out of fashion mob cap, Clarine didn't warrant a second glance, and she knew she could wander the stalls and vendors as happily and as carefree as she had once done.

  It was an hour or so walk from Hartford Hall to Waverly, and by the time she got there, the fair was in full swing. Clarine walked around until her legs were sore, and then she sat on the green a little way off, nibbling on a sausage on a stick that a red-faced old woman had sold her.