“Where is he?” She cried.
Then she saw that in front of the cottage were five bodies.
“Four men dead!” Carruthers exclaimed, drawing out his sword. “This last one is barely alive.”
“These are the men who attacked us.” Ludlow nodded. “But where is the earl?”
They looked around. Charlotte had already rushed into the cottage.
Inside was more evidence of a serene domestic household that had seen a terrifying altercation. Plates lay shattered on the floor, and furniture was upended. Ugly splatters of blood were on the walls. In one corner, in stark contrast to all this, a warm fire was roaring. A man sat on a chair with ropes binding him tight.
“The marquis!” Charlotte exclaimed. Just as she did, the earl emerged from an adjacent room, his eyes wide with surprise.
Charlotte felt her heart twist. What had happened to him! Her dear earl, always so fashionably dressed; his shirt had been reduced to shreds after all the fighting. Worse yet, bruises marked his face, and blood seeped from cuts that he had unsuccessfully attempted to bandage.
“What are you doing here!” He exclaimed. “I told you to stay back!”
“I had to come,” Charlotte said with tears in her eyes. “Oh, Morgan!”
“That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” He said, with some interest. His lips curved into a smile. “I suppose that you’re happy now that Ludlow is back?”
“I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if you had been killed,” Charlotte said. “How could you put yourself in such danger! I thought you took men with you.”
“My men have gone to call the authorities.” He smiled. “Though, Oh here you are, Carruthers. I gather you have called the vicomte?”
“Not that we needed to.” Carruthers smiled. “You handled it brilliantly, Morgan.”
“Well, forgive me for not coming back to the Villa. I guessed correctly that Ludlow would bring you along. I felt a little too exhausted to do more riding myself. Besides, the marquis is quite under control for now.”
“He’ll be tied up for quite some time.” Carruthers nodded. “He should be hung, really!”
“A dungeon’s far worse than a hanging for a man like the marquis.” The earl said. “Which is why I let him live.”
Carruthers escorted the marquis outside at swordpoint, while the earl watched with a smile. Outside, they could hear more men arriving, and soon, the matter would be sorted.
Charlotte shuddered as she thought of how close the earl had come to dying, and Ludlow put a comforting hand on her shoulder, thinking that the gory scene had affected her delicate sensibilities. Her brother didn’t miss the way the earl stepped forward to comfort her, however, nor did he miss the engagement ring on her finger.
“What’s this!” Ludlow exclaimed. “I was a little too busy to notice until now! Who’s the fortunate man, Charlotte?”
“The unfortunate man,” Charlotte said, slowly taking the ring off her finger. She stretched out her palm to the earl, with the ring held in its center. A shadow crossed over the earl’s face. His relaxed smile vanished.
“So our engagement is officially broken, then?” He asked.
“Yes.” She said, keeping her voice steady though her heart felt as though it might shatter like the glass around her.
He bit his lip, and his eyes were cold. “Very well.” He said, “But do not insult me by returning that ring. Please keep it. On days when you wish to remember, it will aid your memories.”
“I won’t need it to aid my memories,” Charlotte said. “Take it back, Morgan. It is your family’s ring.”
“I will not.” He said, his mouth drawing into a firm line. “I have no need of it, and if I choose another, you can be sure that she will not have to wear a ring that you have already worn.”
“When you choose another woman, I hope you are very happy with her,” Charlotte said, a sudden rush of tears coming to her eyes.
“Don’t mouth words you don’t mean.” The earl said angrily. “You never wished to be engaged to me, very well. We shall consider the engagement broken! But spare me your polite lies about hoping the best for me!”
She bit her lip and looked away. How could she tell him that she had fallen in love with him? That it took every ounce of willpower within her to break this engagement? She did not care what other people spoke about her, but the very thought of any further harm coming to the earl filled her with more pain than she had ever known. The moments today, when she had thought that he might be dead, were the very worst of her life.
“Perhaps it would have been better for you if I had died.” The earl said coldly. “After all, your reputation would have escaped unharmed, in that case. As for me, I wouldn’t much care one way or the other.”
“Don’t you dare say that!” She exclaimed, looking up at him with horror-struck eyes. The tears that had been holding back now poured out. “Don’t you dare say that I would be happier! I could not live with myself; I can barely live with myself even now, knowing that I set you in harm’s way. Morgan, you were forced to make a proposal to me that day at the ball, and now I’m setting you free. Please be happy that our arrangement has concluded.”
The earl stepped forward and drew her into his arms. Gently, he kissed away every single one of her tears and rested his forehead against her. “Do you mean that?” He asked, in a voice full of emotion. “Are you determined that I must be happy?”
“Of course I mean it!” she said. “I love you, Morgan, and I can’t bear to think…” Her words choked off, at the thought of the danger he had passed through.
“Make me deliriously happy then.” He said, his voice brimming with passion. “Make me the happiest man in the world by agreeing to marry me.”
She looked up at him, at the devastating perfectness of his face, and wondered if she had heard him right.
“Hasn’t it been obvious, since the very beginning, that I am in love with you?” He asked. “I was in love with you as a child, and now I am in love with you as a man. Seeing you on that stairwell, I didn’t know who you were, and yet I knew I must have you. Afterward, when I found out who you were, I could scarcely believe my good fortune. After all those years, I’d found you again! I proposed to spite the marquis, but I didn’t propose lightly. I sincerely meant to give you a long and happy life as my wife. I truly thought that even if you didn’t love me then, you’d eventually come learn to.”
“But… why didn’t you tell me this?”
“I tried to.” He said. “I tried to tell you when I was giving my toast, and telling people that I had loved you as a child. But you didn’t believe me.”
“I… I thought…” She shook her head in disbelief. “I thought it was your honor that made you act that way.”
“It was love.” He said. “I was broken hearted when you told me that you’d break off the engagement once Ludlow was found. Yet I tried my best to woo you. I sent your aunt money for the new wardrobe…”
“That was you!” She gasped. “I thought Aunt Agatha was a magician, suddenly producing these new dresses!”
He gave a rueful smile. “I told her not to tell you it was me. I thought you may not accept.”
“Indeed, I would not have,” Charlotte said.
“But I tried to entice you, and yet on every occasion, I found myself falling even more in love with you. You were the same girl I’d once loved, now marked by the maturity and wit of a woman. But I despaired that you didn’t love me at all and that all you wanted was to find Ludlow.”
“Oh, darling!” Charlotte said. “Oh Morgan, I was such a fool. I thought you loved Alexandria, and that I was a burden.”
“Alexandria?” He looked genuinely confused. “Why she is not the kind of woman I’d ever consider marrying. My uncle had some absurd plan, but I was not willing to go along.” A magnificent smile lit up his face. “So I was right? She made you jealous?”
“Hush!” Charlotte blushed, looking away.
“Charlo
tte, my darling, my dearest, don’t look away another minute. Please marry me and be mine for the rest of my life. I will give you every happiness I can conjure.”
“Being with you is happiness enough,” Charlotte said.
“Then…” He got on one knee, and took the ring from her, “For the second time, Charlotte, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” She exclaimed. “I most certainly will!”
*** The End ***
The earl’s
christmas blessing
Regency Romance
Grace Fletcher
Chapter 1
A Clothing Disaster
“Oh, Miss Barnes!” The Duchess of Carlisle squealed when Elizabeth brought the gown out for her perusal. “This is absolutely beautiful!”
Inwardly, Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief. She had had to improvise when the color the duchess had wanted wasn’t available, and she went for the color that was the absolute closest she could get. Clearly, it was looking like a success.
“I’m glad you like it, Your Grace,” Elizabeth draped the gown over the table. “Even if it’s not in the color you requested.”
The duchess ran a hand over the satin skirts in wonder.
“I think I like this even better. You’ve got a good eye for this, Miss Barnes. I swear you’ve got magic in that mind of yours.”
Elizabeth burst out laughing.
“Don’t say that out too loud, Your Grace. I might get burned at the stake.”
“Do they still burn witches nowadays?”
“I don’t want to find out.”
The duchess laughed. It was a full belly-laugh, one that caught people by surprise. The Duchess of Carlisle wasn’t exactly a conventional woman, but she was very much loved and respected. Her husband of thirty years absolutely adored her, and their five children were thriving. All of them were clients of Elizabeth’s, as were their extended families, and even if she never had anyone else coming in wanting her services with the needle, Elizabeth could easily secure her future.
“Would you have this delivered to my house by tomorrow evening at five?” the duchess asked. “This social engagement I need the dress for is very important. I must look my best.”
“Of course I can.” Elizabeth indicated her assistant, a bespectacled woman barely twenty, sitting at the desk by the door to the store. “Miss Daniels has your address, so if you let her know what you want, we’ll get that sorted for you.”
“Oh, thank you, darling.” The duchess kissed Elizabeth’s cheek, still beaming. “You’re an absolute wonder to behold.”
“I’m sure I’m not the only seamstress who could have given you what you want, Your Grace.”
The duchess grinned, digging into her purse.
“You’re not the only seamstress, yes, but you’re the only one who can give me a dream gown.” She withdrew her hand and took Elizabeth’s, pressing a note into the younger woman’s hands. “This is a little extra for you…”
“There’s no need…”
“I insist.” The older woman’s hand tightened around Elizabeth’s. “Services rendered. You deserve it.”
Elizabeth knew arguing would be pointless. The duchess always gave her a little extra which made her uncomfortable. But there was no protesting with the woman. She was very insistent. Giving the duchess a smile, Elizabeth tucked the note into her pocket.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
A little wouldn’t go amiss. It was the start of December. Christmas was three weeks away and while Elizabeth only had her parents and her younger sister to buy for, she wanted to make sure there was more than enough for them to have a good Christmas dinner. And then have some money left over for themselves.
Elizabeth loved Christmas. Everyone wanted a Christmas gown or suit for almost every occasion, sometimes several in a week. It did mean Elizabeth’s fingers ended up raw and virtually no sleep, but it was worth it. As long as she got to see her parents and her sister smile on Christmas Day.
“Oh, my.” The duchess’ voice broke into Elizabeth’s thoughts. “Looking at him makes me wish I wasn’t happily married.”
Elizabeth looked up.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The gentleman getting out of the carriage outside. The Earl of Lincoln.”
Elizabeth looked, and her heart almost stopped. Stephen Mulliss, the Earl of Lincoln, was a renowned bachelor. At four-and-thirty years, he was still unmarried. From the gossip around London, most eligible women were vying to be his countess, but with no success. Elizabeth had not heard a lot about him, mainly that Lincoln was a recluse. He drove his mother to despair at his refusal to attend as many social gatherings as she wanted. That was what made him one of the most eligible bachelors in Society.
Elizabeth had heard about him but she had never seen him. Until now. Now she could see what the fuss was all about.
Brushing six feet, at least, raven hair that looked like it had barely seen a hairbrush in its life, and a finely cut slim figure in dark blue. His profile was strong and imposing. When he turned towards the shop and Elizabeth saw him full-face, it was even more striking. Startling.
Handsome.
“He’s a fine-looking man.” The duchess sighed. “It’s a pity I’m about to become a grandmother.”
Elizabeth almost choked, clutching onto the table as she tried to get her breath back.
“Your Grace!” she gasped. “I’ve never heard you speak like that.”
“I’m not a crusty old lady.” The duchess winked. “You should have seen me when I was your age.”
Elizabeth’s mind went blank. She swallowed.
“I think you’ve actually made me speechless.”
The duchess laughed and patted Elizabeth on the arm.
“Have a good day, dear. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She headed towards Isabel Daniels, and Elizabeth took the gown into the back room. It wasn’t until she was in the room itself that she could breathe properly again. There had been many handsome men in Society who had come into her shop, who had attempted to charm her, but Elizabeth had always maintained a strong professional attitude. She knew her place despite her good connections; there was no point in wishing for something that would never happen.
However, just one look at the Earl of Lincoln and Elizabeth could feel herself getting warm, her heartbeat quickening. There was something about him that both fascinated and unnerved her.
Elizabeth busied herself with putting the gown back onto the tailor’s dummy, making sure everything was in place. The duchess was an easy-going woman, but woe betide if you had a crease anywhere that it shouldn’t be. And Elizabeth followed her clients’ instructions to the letter.
When she came back out, the duchess was gone. But Lincoln was there, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room looking around him. He was holding a pair of trousers folded over his arm. Elizabeth stopped short when she realized he was there. Her mouth went dry. Up close, he was even easier on the eye. Her palms started feeling clammy, and Elizabeth had to rub them on her skirts.
Lincoln turned to her and his dark eyes landed on her. They momentarily widened before giving her a somewhat skeptical look.
“You’re Miss Barnes, the seamstress?”
He didn’t sound like he believed what he saw. Elizabeth planted her hands on her hips.
“Why does that surprise you, my lord?”
“You…you’re not what I expected.” Then Lincoln’s face went red. “When the Duchess of Carlisle told me about you and your work, I thought you were…well, a little older.”
His face went even redder. Elizabeth wasn’t offended. This wasn’t the first time someone had assumed that. She was still relatively young, but she would be classed as a spinster now. Five-and-twenty was considered old.
“You’re not the only one to think that, my lord. In terms of Society, I am older.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Lincoln said hurriedly. “You look much younger than the debutantes that grace the ballr
ooms.”
Elizabeth stared. That was completely out of nowhere. Many men had tried to use their charm to get her to lessen the price of her work, but never had any of them said this. Lincoln seemed to realize that he had overstepped. With his face bright red, he looked around the shop. Anywhere but at her.
“Forgive me, Miss Barnes,” he mumbled hurriedly. “That was very rude. I should not have said anything.”
It was incredibly sweet. Elizabeth found it endearing. She smiled.
“You’re forgiven, my lord. And that was rather flattering. I like to think being kept busy is my secret to looking younger than I am.”
“It’s certainly working.” Lincoln closed his eyes and groaned. “I’ve done it again, haven’t I? I’m not very good at talking to women.”
Elizabeth could see Isabel hiding her laughter behind her hand. She shot the young girl a sharp look before turning to the earl.
“It’s fine, my lord. I prefer it when people are honest.”
“Even when I’ve put my foot in it?”
Elizabeth laughed.
“Even at your expense.” She approached him. “Now, why are you here, my lord?”
“I was at dinner last night and I was wearing these.” Lincoln held up the pair of trousers. “Things were fine before dinner, but as soon as I sat down for dinner, I felt something rip.”
He held them up and Elizabeth saw the huge tear in the seat of the trousers. It was fraying at the edges. She swallowed back the laughter.
“Oh, dear. That’s quite bad. What did you do?”
Chapter 2
Not a Servant
“Thankfully, it was just my brother, his wife, and their children I was dining with, so we managed to laugh it off.” Lincoln looked uncomfortable. “If it had been anywhere else…let’s just say, I wouldn’t have been able to laugh at the situation. People would be talking about how the Earl of Lincoln doesn’t look after himself if his clothes are falling apart, or that he’s too fat.”
Regency Romances Page 73