Slightly Noble

by Lilly Gayle

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Praise for Lilly Gayle

  Slightly Noble

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Epilogue

  If you enjoyed SLIGHTLY NOBLE, you might also like to meet Jack before he was a viscount, in Lilly Gayle’s SLIGHTLY TARNISHED, a historical romance that features the Earl of Gilchrest (Chad) and his American wife (Nicole).

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  She raised her chin. “I am a commoner, but as you have guessed, my father was accepted in certain social circles. Accepted, but not always welcomed.”

  “Well, you will be welcomed now, Abby. You are a viscountess.” His voice softened, but his eyes shone with disappointment. Was it because he had hoped she would confide in him? Or because she had confessed her humble origins?

  Pride stiffened her spine. “I am more than just a viscountess. I am a wife and mother, and if I am to be a good wife, at some point, I must act like a wife.” This meant running a household, not living on a ship. She did not want to argue or have him ask more questions about her past, but she could not bear living aboard ship indefinitely.

  He started, his expression surprised. Then a slow smile spread over his face, and his eyes burned as if he had a fever. He leaned over the table, his face mere inches from hers. “A real wife sleeps in her husband’s bed.”

  Abby’s breath hitched. Her pulse jumped. Oh dear! He had taken her meaning all wrong. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and her flesh tingled. “What I meant…That is, I should be running your household.”

  “We live on a ship.” He leaned back in his chair. He still smiled, but it was now more humorous than…amorous?

  She shivered, unable to suppress a brief surge of longing. What would it be like to kiss that hard mouth? To feel his lips pressed against hers?

  Dear Lord! What is wrong with me?

  Praise for Lilly Gayle

  “I read this well-researched and engaged novel at one sitting. Just had to find out how the various puzzling strands tied together. Brava, Ms. Gayle.”

  ~Vonnie Hughes,

  author of Lethal Refuge and other titles

  *

  “Lilly Gayle does it again with a tender yet sexy historical about two lonely people faced with insurmountable problems that can only be resolved with love, trust, and a bit of understanding. If you liked SLIGHTLY TARNISHED, you’ll love SLIGHTLY NOBLE’s charming romantic duel between two strong characters.”

  ~Amy Corwin,

  author of The Bricklayer’s Helper,

  Outrageous Behavior, and other titles

  *

  “Lilly Gayle writes a sweet and sexy tale full of secrets, treachery, and the promise of love. From an honorable hero and his charming sidekick to his sassy heroine, Lilly pulls you into her world with ease, and you won’t want to leave!”

  ~Andris Bear, author

  Slightly Noble

  by

  Lilly Gayle

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Slightly Noble

  COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Gayle Glass

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Angela Anderson

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Tea Rose Edition, 2015

  Print ISBN 978-1-62830-778-8

  Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-779-5

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  I lovingly dedicate this book

  to my first grandchild, Caroline.

  Papa John and Grandma GG

  love you to pieces and miss you bunches.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my critique partners

  Andris Bear and Amy Corwin

  and to beta reader, Vonnie Hughes.

  I couldn’t have done it without you ladies.

  Thanks also to JM Stewart

  for reading the first few chapters of the first draft and pushing me to dig deeper

  into Abby and Jack’s emotions.

  *

  Thanks also to my friends and co-workers

  at GHS for their support

  and to Selena N. and Jennifer K. especially,

  for giving me a better title for this story.

  Last but not least, I’d like to thank my editor,

  Allison Byers, for all she does. You’re the best.

  Prologue

  England

  Late July 1865

  Abigail Halsey sat on a bench in the convent garden, head bowed, trying to find forgiveness in a heart grown cold. Her hands drifted to the taut swell of her belly, fingers twisting together as anger warred with fear. She wore the somber garb of a postulant, but she was neither pious nor forgiving. She hated the man who had done this to her, the man who had forced her loving father to send her to The Sisters of Mercy in disgrace.

  But where else did a widowed gentleman send his only daughter when the earl who had gotten her with child was betrothed to a woman of his own class?

  “Are you praying?” Sister Mary Daphne asked, her steps so light, Abby had not heard her approach.

  Sunlight filtered through the trees, piercing the shadows with shafts of light. Abby held a hand to her brow, shading her eyes to meet the young novice’s curious gaze. “No.”

  “You should be. The reverend mother says you need to learn discipline and humility, and prayer is the only way.”

  “I pray only for this child.” Bitterness welled up inside Abby like venom, slowly poisoning her soul. “My life is ruined.”

  “I am sure that once the babe is born—”

  “The reverend mother will take it from me, and I will still be tainted goods, unfit to wed.” She ignored the twisting pain in her chest and the flutter beneath her hands. How could she bear giving her child to strangers? Yet, how could she keep it, knowing it would be an outcast in society?

  Her fingers stilled over the tight mound beneath her ribs. I will do what is best for my child.

  The nun wrinkled her
brow, dappled sunlight casting her face in ever-changing shadows. “There are worse things than having to give up a child, greater losses from which the soul cannot recover. Count yourself blessed that you will have a second chance at life.”

  “Yes. Blessed.” She had thought herself blessed when she caught Lord Drury’s eye. The handsome viscount did not seem to care that she was just a commoner despite her father’s wealth and social standing. He had flirted and danced with her, and she had reveled in the attention, hoping to prove to her friends that she could marry as well as them. Too late, she learned the viscount already had a betrothed, and all Abby’s flirting and scheming had led to this.

  She rubbed her stomach again and met the nun’s intense stare. “Perhaps I will stay here once the babe is born.” Though she had no wish to become a nun, perhaps if she remained at the convent, she could continue designing jewelry for her father. If she no longer went about in society, no one should care if she worked at a trade.

  “Perhaps you can discuss that with the reverend mother,” Sister Mary Daphne said with a soft smile. “She wants to see you in her office. There is a letter from your father.”

  Abby rose slowly to her feet. Despite her father’s disappointment, he had always done what was best for his only child. Still, not knowing the contents of his letter set Abby’s pulse to pounding as she trailed after the novice’s rustling brown habit to a small office.

  Hope stirred in her bosom. Had her father found a family for her child? Would she get to meet them to assure herself they were kind, loving people, and not baby farmers interested only in the money her father paid them?

  The reverend mother waved Abby inside the office and dismissed Sister Mary Daphne. Abby sank slowly onto a hard chair and met the reverend mother’s kind eyes. A bittersweet sorrow threated her composure. Doing what was best for her child would surely break her heart.

  “Do you wish to keep this child?”

  The unexpected question set Abby’s pulse to pounding even harder. Of course, she wanted to keep her child, but she could not. She tried to respond, but tears clogged her throat.

  “Well?” Pinched lines formed around the reverend mother’s lips as silence filled the air between them.

  Abby blinked back tears. Her plans to marry above her humble origins and raise a family had fallen by the wayside the moment she learned Lord Drury was engaged to another. What decent man would have her now?

  She swallowed her dreams and forced herself to speak without emotion. “I am unwed. It would not be fair to the child.”

  “And if you could wed? Would you hold the child accountable for the father’s sins?”

  “I hold myself responsible.” Her current condition was not the child’s fault. Nor could she continue to blame Lord Drury, lest the hatred eat her alive. If only she had made better choices…

  The reverend mother smiled, and the lines in her face smoothed, taking years off her forty-plus age. “Then I believe your father has found the perfect solution, though he may have waited too late. The baby is due within the month, is it not?”

  Abby nodded, anticipation freezing her hands. Her father’s solution was to send her to the convent for her confinement so she could have the child in secret and then return home as if she had been away visiting relatives. Hope fluttered in her chest. Had Papa come up with a better plan? Or had he finally found a family for her child, a couple who would keep her secret?

  Pain lanced her and all hope died. How could she give her child to strangers and then return to London and the round of endless parties as if nothing had changed? She would never wed now. And she would never be a mother.

  “Your father has arranged a marriage for you,” the reverend mother said, and Abby nearly came out of her chair.

  “What!” The thought of marriage terrified her. She knew what men did to women in bed—terrible, painful things. “But I am no longer chaste!” How could her father even suggest such perfidy? “Who would have me?”

  “A man in need of an heir.”

  “An heir not of his blood!”

  The lines around the reverend mother’s mouth returned. She leaned forward, folding her small hands on her desk, her eyes compassionate and gentle. “Your father wants what is best for you, child, and Lord Ruston has agreed to keep your secret.”

  Revulsion made Abby shiver. Papa could not possibly know what a horrid little man Lord Ruston was with his grasping hands and greedy eyes. What kind of husband would such a man make? What kind of father?

  “I would rather my child have no father than that odious man!”

  Her hysterical outburst brought another frown to the reverend mother’s face. “Lord Ruston will give you a home and your child a name.”

  Wally Crumpler, Viscount Ruston, had buried three wives, none of whom had given him his coveted heir. Now at fifty-one, he was growing desperate. Abby was desperate, too, but not so desperate she would marry a man she had previously turned down. It was unthinkable! She could not tolerate his foul breath or roaming hands. “I would rather loving strangers give my child a name.”

  “Have faith, Abigail. God tests us in many ways, and I am afraid this will be your test.”

  ****

  Abby pulled the hood up over her head and hurried after Sister Mary Daphne. What must the reverend mother be thinking now? What would her father think? Would he search for her? Or wait patiently for her to contact him again?

  Sister Mary Daphne had promised to deliver the letter she had written, explaining why she could not marry Lord Ruston or return home until much later. Papa was not one of the peerage, but he was accepted in their circle, as was Abby. Still, society would not kindly welcome an unwed mother into their midst. But now, thanks to the kind sister, Abby had a chance to keep her baby and preserve her reputation.

  “How much further?” she asked.

  “Less than a mile. We will meet my brother at the Hog and Heifer in Banbury, and then his driver will take us to Shrivenham in the morning. There, my sister will put you up in her boarding house and see to it that you find employment after the babe is born.”

  “I will repay your kindness,” Abby said past the lump in her throat. She swallowed hard and hurried to keep pace. “Is the bakery where Lydia lives near the boarding house?”

  Sister Mary Daphne had helped Lydia, a serving girl sent to the convent after her lecherous employer, the earl of Westover, impregnated her. According to the good sister, Lydia had delivered a daughter, and both mother and child were happy, living over a bakery where Lydia posed as a widow and worked as an assistant baker.

  Abby hoped to find work as a jewel smith’s assistant though she was used to creating her own designs. Of course, her society friends did not know of her secret talents. Gloves had always hidden the nicked fingers and cut knuckles she got from working with precious metals.

  “You will be Lydia’s neighbor.” The nun turned to smile at Abby as if this were more important than Abby keeping her child. Abby supposed it would be nice to see a friendly face once she reached Shrivenham, but the chance to keep her child was more important than anything.

  Sister Mary Daphne turned back around and continued walking. “I told my sister you were a widow. I tell her all my girls are widows.”

  Abby nodded, though the nun could not see, and struggled to keep pace. Her back ached and come morning, she still had to travel several hours by coach before reaching Shrivenham. But she would not complain. At last, she had a plan in place that would allow her to keep her child and eventually return to society.

  Chapter One

  “Damn the bastard!” Captain Jack Norton pushed to his feet, glaring first at his solicitor, Mr. Lambert, and then at his cousin.

  “You are the bastard,” Morris Flick replied with a sneer. “Your mother may have been married to the viscount, but everyone from Seile to London knows Uncle William is your real father and not his brother.”

  The painful reminder was like a fist to Jack’s gut. Morris’ mother had started the
rumors, accusing her youngest brother, William, of siring Lord Ardmore’s son, and all because she was jealous of Jack’s beautiful mother. Jack’s striking resemblance to Uncle William had not helped his mother’s cause. Neither had the fact she never denied the vile accusations.

  Consumed by jealousy and fueled with suspicion, Jack’s father, Viscount Ardmore, banished his wife and son to America, and Cousin Morris had taken Jack’s place in the viscount’s heart. Jack had lived with that knowledge for years, but he would be damned before he let Morris take his inheritance, too.

  He turned toward the sniveling weasel, fully prepared to pummel him. When Flick leaned back, his face taut with fear, Jack smiled and relaxed his fists.

  “Gentleman, please!” Mr. Lambert raised his voice, drawing Jack’s attention. “If I could finish reading Lord Ardmore’s will…”

  Morris curled his thin upper lip and pointed to Jack. “He is Viscount Ardmore now. A bankrupt viscount.”

  His obnoxious snicker rekindled Jack’s desire to slug the bastard, but Jack would have the last laugh. The viscountcy might be bankrupt, but he was not. Thanks to Uncle William and their adventures on the Lion’s Pride, Jack could buy Ridge Point if he wanted to. But damn it all to hell and back, he should not have to. The estate should rightfully belong to him.

  “I don’t want what’s left of the old man’s money. I want Ridge Point.” His jaw clenched. Ridge Point had been part of his mother’s dowry. His father had no right to bequeath it to anyone but her, and she wanted to be buried there.

  When Jack had returned to South Carolina after his final trip to England for the Confederacy, Charleston had been under siege, and his mother lay dying of consumption in a godforsaken infirmary. He risked his life and freedom to stay by her side, and just before death claimed her, they received word that his father had preceded her into the afterlife. The old bastard must have died soon after Jack’s departure from England.