The Legend of the Earl

by Eleanor Meyers

  Alicia said, “I believe I saw Chris, but I’m not sure. He stood amongst the people in the back.”

  “That sounds like Chris,” Nash said. “I’m sure he wouldn’t miss it.”

  “As am I,” a deep voice said as he emerged from the dark hall.

  The room went silent, and Alex fought back the tears that threatened to slip down her cheeks.

  Mary Francis got up her on her cane and took a deep breath. “Come here and let me look at you.”

  Reuben’s steps made the floors creak as he made his way to Mary Francis. When he approached, he took her face and kissed her cheek before pulling away.

  Alex let her tears fall and then stood with Alicia and Rose to get their own kiss and hugs. The only person who didn’t approach Reuben was Nash.

  Alex turned to him and glared. “You knew he was here?”

  Nash stood with the women before resuming his seat and grinned. “I believe you suggested we bring the Smiths together, did you not?”

  She turned back to the newest person in the room.

  Reuben had always been a handsome young boy with dark hair and green eyes, but at the age of thirty and one, he looked even grander in his red coat and high boots. He’d come dressed in his uniform, as though he were eating with the king. Alex hadn’t known he’d made it home at all. After the war with France, he’d been stationed there so long it had seemed unlikely he’d ever return home.

  Rose made a quick sobbing sound, and Reuben wrapped his arms around her, not caring that she was likely wetting his red coat. Reuben touched Rose’s blond head and said, “I wouldn't have missed this for the world.”

  Rose looked up and smiled at him. She was the youngest and the last chosen to join the small family they’d made in the orphanage. She was only eighteen but had been twelve when Reuben paid the commission to join the army. Six years had come and gone, and they all showed on Reuben’s face. He wore the expression of a man who’d seen the world as well as the pain men could cause, yet he smiled at Rose.

  “Am I late?” asked another voice.

  Alex gasped then ran around the table to embrace Chris. “I thought you would never come.”

  Chris murmured, “Alex, you see me every day.”

  She pulled away and noted his mouth was flat, but she saw the warmth in his hazel eyes.

  And his words were true. Of everyone in the room, Alex saw Chris the most. She not only managed his store in town but lived with him as well, though she'd never seen him under these circumstances… to celebrate, eat, and laugh. She rather doubted that Chris recalled how to laugh, but she was glad he’d come.

  Rose came over next. Chris wrapped his arm around her and then patted her head with the other as though she were still a child. Rose didn’t seem to mind and watched him with eyes full of worship as he walked over to Mary Francis.

  Chris kissed her cheek. “How are you?”

  “Why don’t you ever come visit me?” she snapped before stomping her cane into the well-worn floor.

  Chris’ eyes grew warm. If there was anyone he loved in the world, it was Mary Francis. She’d taken over her sister’s business once Mary Elizabeth died, a business she’d known nothing about before that, and though she’d not been as warm a woman as her sister, Francis had managed to allow those who’d gathered at the table close to her.

  And that was all because of Chris, for there was no one Francis loved better than Alicia and Chris.

  “I’m very busy,” Chris told her with more patience than he ever gave Alex. It almost made her envious, but then again, she was simply happy that there was someone who Chris was patient with.

  Francis pursed her lips. “You own a toy store, Christmas. It’s hardly reason to stay away for so long.”

  Chris’ eyes flickered at being called by his full name. No one called him Christmas. “I’m very busy,” he repeated before taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “But it’s very good to see you, Francis.” He was the only one who called her anything but 'Ms. Best.'

  Francis opened her mouth to chasten him for not visiting, but Alex cut in before she could.

  “You knew Reuben was here?” She noticed that Chris had hardly acknowledged either man in the room.

  Chris rounded the table where Reuben and Rose were busy setting another place for him. “I picked him up from the docks this morning. He’s staying with us.”

  Alex gasped, feeling more than slightly betrayed. She’d have loved to accompany him to the docks, but Chris was forever elusive about his comings and goings.

  Reuben took his chair and said, “That’s not an invitation for you to come calling every day.” His dark gray eyes were smiling when he said it.

  Alex's lips split wide, for they both knew she would come calling. If not every day then very frequently.

  Nash cut into all conversation just as Chris settled in between Alex and Rose. “Can we eat now?”

  “Do say grace first, Nash.” Alex bowed her head, as did everyone else around the table, except for Chris.

  Once the blessing was said, the food was served and conversation went on.

  “Does this mean you’re staying, Reuben?” Alicia asked. Alex had always liked her voice. It was soothing. Since caring for children was a large part of her life, that was a boon. She’d heard many say that Alicia was very much like Mary Elizabeth—humble and kind, never allowing her fatigue to rule her actions. Alicia also had a grace in the way she moved. She’d turn her head just so when listening to someone speak and rose and sat with a decorum that few butcher’s daughters had. With her beauty, blond hair, and small features, Alex was sure Alicia could be the belle of a ball.

  Alex had always tried to emulate her but failed miserably. Her features were much larger than Alicia’s. Her eyes were a startling gray that she’d been told became unsettling if she stared into someone’s eyes for too long. Her hair was the color of ink, a black so pure that against her pale skin she looked like a ghost.

  “I believe I’ll be in the city for a while, yes,” Reuben answered as he dug into his stew. After a bite, his eyes became hot with excitement. “This is excellent.” He looked around the table. “Tell me if I’m wrong. It could simply be that I’ve partaken of the military's offerings for far too long.”

  Nash was nearly done with his first bowl when he responded. “No, brother. Alex is the best cook in London.”

  Reuben lifted a dark brow, and his gaze fell on Alex. “You made this?” He used his spoon to point to his bowl.

  Alex nodded with an immodest grin. She knew she cooked just as well as she ran Chris’ shop.

  Reuben turned back to his meal and said, “I’ve changed my mind. You’re allowed to call whenever you please.”

  “Excellent.” Alex took a sip of her stew then reached for bread as everyone else gave their own compliments to her. Chris’ was not verbal, but when he gazed at her there was no annoyance. That was good.

  “Were you at the service?” Francis asked Chris.

  “I was.” Chris was on his second bowl as well but paused before his next bite. “The commemoration was well deserved.”

  “Indeed,” Alicia said. “I’m surprised it took this long to recognize her.”

  The heads at the table nodded.

  Reuben asked, “Do you supposed this will have any effect on the ton?”

  Francis grunted. “It’s not likely. Our halls will still be overrun with their brood, perhaps even more so now that everyone knows Best Homes' reputation for ensuring their children become working citizens and not just beggars who’d pick their pockets in the blink of an eye.”

  This was true. There had been a part of the ceremony that spoke highly of Best Homes. Though Alicia had grown to love the people at the table, her stomach turned at the thought of more children being dumped at the orphanage’s doors.

  She glanced around and noticed the somber looks on everyone’s faces. Chris looked disgusted. Alicia looked thoughtful before she straightened in her chair. “Well, whatever happens,
I will always welcome any child who comes our way.” She smiled. “And you’ll never believe how many donations have come in since the commemoration was announced! I’ll be able to hire more teachers for the children and pay for better sponsorships for the girls who wish to learn how to cook or become maids.”

  “I didn’t know the home was lacking teachers.” Chris’ expression was blank, but Alex saw the glimmer in his eyes. He was upset.

  Alicia beamed at him. “I didn’t want you to worry. You already give more than I think you should. You’ve paid for the boys to have new shoes and chemises for the girls.”

  Mary Francis grunted, interrupting whatever Chris had planned to say. “The new donors are probably parents, for all we know, giving to their own out of guilt.”

  “They never cared that much about us,” Nash said as he started on yet another bowl. He was a large man, fit with muscular arms. Alex knew he was a hearty eater and had prepared for it.

  Nash went on, “And let us be honest. No one at this table has an ounce of nobility in them, no matter what Ms. Best used to say.”

  Reuben chuckled, and his eyes took on a far-off look. “Lords and ladies, she’d call us.” He glanced around the table.

  Mary Elizabeth Best hadn’t called everyone ladies and lords, just a certain few. A few had been called sirs and misses, while others were princes and princesses, which always made the children laugh. Alex remembered laughing and practicing her curtsey in one of the handed-down dresses.

  Reuben shook his head. “I’m sure my parents were nothing more than a pair of paupers who created me in the heat of an alley one night.”

  “Reuben.” Alicia pulled in a tight breath. “Not in front of the women.”

  Reuben looked surprised. “Oh, I thought I was being polite. That was as chaste as I could make that statement.”

  Alex laughed, and the others did the same. All except Chris, of course.

  “She called us lords and ladies to make us feel better,” Chris said as he leaned back in his chair, properly stuffed. “She never actually meant it.”

  “Oh, well, I don’t know,” Alicia said with a small smile. “You always had the tendency to walk around as though you were a little lord.”

  There was more laughter at the memory. Chris had indeed roamed the orphanage as though it were his domain. Alex recalled watching him as a young child and wanting nothing more than to be recognized by him. It had taken her a while, but eventually he’d given in to her demands. He’d allowed her to stand in his shadow, following where he went. She still did it now.

  “Well, I don’t know who sired me, and I don’t care to know.” Nash lifted his tin cup. “I’m a Smith.”

  Alex lifted her cup as well. “Smith.”

  “Smith,” Reuben said with a smile, cup in hand.

  Rose glanced around with a small grin and lifted her cup in the air.

  Alicia and Mary Francis possessed a true last name, yet they lifted their cups as well, knowing they were part of the family.

  Chris wiped his hands and picked up his own cup, his expression closed. “To Smith.”

  “To Smith,” the table said.

  “And to Mary Elizabeth Best,” Alicia said.

  They returned the chant before taking sips of their wine.

  There were flickers of surprise in some of their eyes, but not Chris’.

  He narrowed his eyes at Alex and asked, “Exactly where did you find this wine?”

  She made her expression innocent. “Chris, it’s a special occasion.”

  He sat back in his chair and murmured, “I should tell Gibson to stop letting you have full reign of my home,” before he took a sip, his hazel eyes distant.

  Alex simply smiled because she knew he never would.

  * * *

  2

  CHAPTER

  TWO

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  Justin Padmore, Earl of Chantenny, jerked his head up, opened his eyes, and blinked to adjust his vision. He’d been kicked in the boot and as his eyes focused, he smiled to find his old friend staring down at him. He became aware of the noise of the club, the rattling of newspapers, and the warmth of the cup in his hand. He’d been drinking coffee before he’d fallen asleep.

  “Thank you. I’d have likely burned myself had you not come along when you did.” He lifted his cup in a toast and then took a hasty sip. The coffee had cooled, but Justin didn’t mind. He needed whatever energy the liquid could give him after a night like the one he’d had.

  “You missed session,” Gerard de Gray, Earl of Obenshire, said. He’d remained in his position in front of Justin’s feet.

  They were in a corner of the room, where others could not hear their conversation, in a spot that Justin had all but dubbed as his own. Other men didn’t venture to bother him here. Only Gerard.

  Justin crossed his legs and glanced back up at Gerard, noting his friend’s unhappiness. “You look grim. Anything important occur?” He glanced around at the men who sat at tables a few paces away and noticed how everyone was bent over their papers. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and yet...

  Gerard rounded Justin’s feet and came closer. He bent down, and his light brown eyes came into perfect view. The anger was gone and in its stead was something far worse. Fear. “You missed session,” Gerard whispered.

  Justin’s mind was cloudy, but he tried his best to understand what his friend was saying, “All right. I’ll pay whatever fine the party wishes.”

  Gerard shook his head and his gaze roamed Justin’s before he asked, “How much did you drink last night? Where did you go?”

  Justin’s eyes widened and he took a deep breath. Gerard was asking a hard question. He never remembered anything when he was drunk. That was the point of being drunk, after all. Forgetting. “Well, let’s see. My evening started at Mrs. Shaw’s.”

  Shaw was a beautiful, wealthy widow of a merchant and the two had found the attraction mutual, so he’d begun to seek her out at night. Their arrangement had been going on for years and was pleasant enough, though in more recent months he’d begun to visit and fall promptly asleep on her bed, too drunk to do much else. Mrs. Shaw didn’t mind, and Justin would more often than not find a blanket thrown over his body when he arose in the morning.

  “I had a few cups at her house before venturing here and then...“ He tried to think, but when that became painful, he shrugged. “I don’t recall. It’s likely I’ve been in this chair for hours, which, when you think about it, you shouldn’t be mad at me for. Anyone in the room could have woken me before session.” He narrowed his eyes at the men in the room, though he knew they couldn’t see him.

  “You missed session, Justin,” Gerard said.

  He grew irritated instantly. “Yes, I know—”

  “You missed the vote.”

  Justin would have preferred any other words but those. The vote. He’d missed the vote. Immediately, his mind cleared. Fear seeped into his blood and choked him as though a hand had wrapped around his throat, seizing him in an iron grasp.

  He’d missed the vote.

  He cursed and looked at Gerard. “Please tell me you’re lying.”

  Gerard slowly shook his head.

  Justin cursed again before putting his cup down. “This is not happening.” He placed both his palms against his face and gave each cheek a few quick slaps in an effort to wake himself. Then he ran a hand down his face and glanced around the gentlemen’s club. Bellamy’s was full of lords. Lords who had likely finished session hours ago and had come here.

  He cursed again and stood. “I forgot.”

  “He’ll not accept that answer,” Gerard told him. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

  Justin looked at Gerard and suspected he knew exactly what he’d done. Justin’s vote had been vital for his party to win. Most days, Justin didn’t even know what party he belonged to, and he most certainly didn’t know wha
t the vote had been about. He never read the bills and never listened during a session.

  The only reason he’d gone was that the Duke of Avon had demanded it, and Avon was not a man you let down. He was more 'Lord of Darkness' than anything else, having more power than most imagined and more than any one man ever should.

  Justin wondered what would happen if he simply ran away.

  “Don’t,” Gerard said, as though he could read his mind. “You’ll have to face him eventually.”

  Justin frowned and turned to Gerard. “Can’t I do it when I’m sober?”

  “Sober? When do you plan for that to happen?” Gerard asked without any mocking in his tone. He truly wished to know.

  Justin honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been completely sober. He was sure he was killing himself slowly and didn’t mind the thought at all. Death, he was sure, was a more pleasant experience than dealing with the anger of the duke.

  Justin couldn’t focus on his surroundings. “I missed the vote.”

  “Yes,” Gerard said. “Our party lost.”

  Justin’s head fell as though his neck could no longer stand the weight of it.

  “And it gets worse,” Gerard whispered.

  Justin didn’t want to know how much worse it could get. He covered his face.

  Gerard stepped closer and whispered in his ear, “The duke swore to the party that we would win. He let them all down and now there are many who believe it best they no longer follow him. They knew it was your vote that ruined things. They thought the duke had you under control, but that has been proven wrong, and you know how the duke gets when he’s wrong.”

  Justin ran his hands through his dark hair and met Gerard’s eyes. “So it’s likely I’ll not get out of this unscathed.”

  His friend nodded. “That’s a likely conclusion, yes.”