The Legend of the Earl

by Eleanor Meyers

  “Oh, but I do have to marry you,” she whispered. “Because living without you is not a life I could bear.”

  He leaned away from her and covered his face with his free hand. The shame wouldn’t leave him. “I should never have touched you.”

  It was far too late for that. She’d felt his touch and was in love with it.

  “I believe I touched you first,” she said as he continued to grope his hair.

  He looked at her through his fingers. “I still don’t understand why.”

  “Perhaps I knew you were the one from the very beginning.” She smiled. “And because you’re quite irresistible when you look confused.”

  He made the expression at that very moment and, even with grief-reddened eyes, there was not another man on earth who was this handsome.

  He looked away, and his lips twitched as though he knew her thoughts. Then he looked at her again and leaned toward her, his arms going around her once more. “I was so unprepared for you, Alex. I fell for you that first day, and after that kiss I knew I’d never love again if I couldn’t love you. Will you marry me?”

  “I believe I've already said yes,” she informed him, though her heart still leapt with joy as though it were his first time asking her. And in a way, without the secrets between them and with a new understanding of who Justin was, she did feel as though it was the first time he’d asked.

  “Say yes again,” he said, feeling as she did. This was a new beginning for them, and with all her trust, Alex was willing to jump in.

  “Yes,” she said again and vowed to continue saying it whenever his doubts made him second-guess his worthiness or the shadows in his mind began to consume him. “Yes.” She was his, and she would love him.

  Without reason.

  Without condition.

  Without end.

  * * *

  EPILOGUE

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  Her heels clapped across the silent room as she made her way towards her wardrobe. Opening the doors, she slipped her hands inside, shuffling her dresses to each end, and felt for the latch that not even the most clever of maids could ever find. A clip sounded and a secret compartment opened.

  A panel slid away and what was revealed looked like a small library.

  Except only one author had written the series of journals that lined the back wall.

  Some of the books were smaller than others. Some were nearly ancient, while others had been written only twenty years prior.

  The greatest fiction novels could never outdo the tales that Mary Elizabeth Best had crafted all those years ago. Stories about her fondlings flowed from one page to another in a form of writing that made it clear it was never to see the light of day.

  She paused as she heard a noise.

  Footsteps outside the room passed, their shadow dancing in the light that spilled underneath the door. Once they were gone, she grabbed the volume she’d been looking for and closed the wardrobe.

  She flipped through it easily enough and found the entry about Alexandra Smith—or as of that very morning— Lady Alexandra Paddon the Countess of Chantenny.

  Marriage hadn’t been the outcome she’d been going for.

  What she’d wanted was justice!

  She’d sent the article months ago when Lord Wint had been alive and well.

  It had been publishers who’d decided to wait to release it after Mrs. Best’s commemoration.

  If only Lord Wint had been alive when the article had flooded London.

  Still, she counted what had happened next as a win.

  No, actually, a very entertaining win.

  So entertaining, in fact, that she just couldn’t resist the temptation to release yet another scandal out into the world.

  She flipped to another page and found the other name she’d been looking for.

  Rose Smith.

  A pretty name for a pretty girl.

  And no one deserved the truth more than she...

  * * *

  THANK YOU

  for reading my book and

  i hope you have enjoyed the story.

  The Legend of The Earl is Book 1 in the series.

  The next book in the new series targeted release date will be 04th Apr.

  In the meantime . . .

  If you have enjoyed reading The Legend of The Earl, I believe you will enjoy reading the Wardington Park series where many events from history were mixed into the tale.

  I have enclosed a sneak preview of the previous book in the series.

  Check it out below . . .

  It is currently priced at $0.99 (around 330 pages)

  * * *

  PROLOGUE

  September 1835

  Williamsburg, Virginia

  Lord Morgan Platt remained silent as the wagon traveled down the dirt road. He tried to ignore the ungodly smell of his transport and the fact he was sitting on a bed a hay and who knew what else, losing himself in the beauty of the foreign land as they left the city and started toward a more rural area of Virginia.

  Despite the travails of the first settlers, who had died of sickness and warred with the natives, Morgan could see why people had chosen to stay.

  He admired the trees and the abundance of color that overtook his senses. Reds, golds, and greens mixed with forest and sun-kissed open fields, drawing him in as little did most days. Even the air seemed different, untouched. But after being on a ship for over a month without any of the fineries he was used to, he’d truly just been glad to see land again, yet while he’d found nothing appealing about the cities compared to London, he did admire the country space.

  And in less than a year, he’d have country space of his own back in England. His eldest brother had gone missing nearly seven years ago and Morgan, who’d always enjoyed being a second son, was now to be the Marquess of Durham. With the title would come all the land his father had planned to pass on to his brother and if that were the only thing Morgan was set to inherit, he’d have not minded at all, but with his brother’s title also came the oaths made upon the next Marquess of Durham. Morgan was set to marry a woman he’d never met, a woman of his mother’s choosing, and Morgan didn’t even know her name.

  For a long time, he’d thought about escaping, just as his brother had, and choosing his own destiny, but other obligations kept him in London for the time being, which meant he’d not escape the upcoming courtship and marriage.

  His thoughts on his pending future with his mysterious bride were put aside as the young women across from him giggled. Caroline Goodman was fifteen while the other, Charlotte Goodman. was seventeen. They stared at him with small smiles touching the corners of their mouths.

  They wore matching blue dresses made of cotton, a material that was quite cheap and something a local delivery man like Mr. Goodman could afford.

  “What’s London like?” Caroline asked in her distinctive American accent. She’d asked a version of this question before during their long journey, but Morgan suspected she and her sister simply enjoyed hearing him speak.

  “London is like any other city, I suppose,” he said. “There are theatres, parties, gardens, and other amusements.”

  Caroline laughed and said, “Oh, parties.” She emphasized the word ‘party’ to sound closer to his own pronunciation. She sighed. “I would love to go to a party. Everything about England sounds so wonderful.”

  Charlotte batted her eyes and whispered, “Yes, I wish to go London as well.”

  “Girls, don’t harass our guest,” Mrs. Goodman said.

  The girls laughed.

  He returned their smiles, but put none of his charm behind it, before looking toward the front of the wagon to find the girls’ mother staring at him with a considering expression he recognized. It seemed not even in America could he avoid matchmaking mothers. Mr. Goodman had welcomed Morgan into the wagon once he glimpsed his coin. Morgan had been instructed to dress li
ke a servant for his journey in an effort to hide his identity, and while Morgan had played the part of peasant on more than one occasion, worry had him distracted.

  Morgan was a member of the British spy organization called the Order of the Second Sons, or O.S.S., and though he’d been assigned to more than one dangerous mission, this mission had Morgan’s heart racing. The closer he drew to his target, the more his worries grew.

  “It won’t be long now. I hope your man of business is home. If not, you’re more than welcome to join me and my family for the night.”

  There were muffled giggles from the girls, and Morgan didn’t have to look over to know that Mrs. Goodman was staring at him again.

  “Thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Goodman. If I find myself stranded, I will gladly depend on your kindness.” Though ‘gladly’ was nowhere near the truth. He could think of nothing worse than having to attend dinner with the Goodman girls. He didn’t wish to lead the women on to think he’d be taking either of them home with him. Both were far too young for his taste Besides, he would be taking a wife and while he didn’t know her, he planned to be faithful to her for as long as that arrangement suited them both.

  “That’s it,” Mr. Goodman said.

  The wagon made another turn, and Morgan looked through the trees until a house came into view. The small one-story wooden home sat in the middle of a grass field in the distance. A thin dirt road made of wagon tracks led to its door. The sun had begun to make its descent a few hours ago, and with its position behind the house, it was hard to make out what sort of condition the house was in.

  Goodman stopped the wagon at the end of the dirt path. “I would travel with you, Mr. Tift, but I’ve a crate to deliver before dark.”

  “This is fine.” Morgan made his way off the wagon and grabbed his bag. He’d not brought much since he’d known he’d be unable to take servants with him. Where he was going, no one could ever know he’d gone. The Goodman family didn’t even know his real name.

  When he was on the ground once more, he turned to Mr. Goodman and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Remember the offer I made you.” With a nod of his head, Mr. Goodman started the wagon again. In the back, the man’s daughters waved their goodbyes and Morgan lifted a hand before starting down the dirt road.

  With every step, he could feel his blood rushing, propelling him forward just as much as it tried to keep him back. This mission had not been given to him by the government. This was to pay a debt to one of London’s most powerful men: The Duke of Wardington.

  He remembered the day he’d all but sold his soul to that devil. It had only been months ago that Morgan and sworn to do anything the duke asked for in exchange for what eventually helped the O.S.S. unfold an evil plot. One would assume that a duke of the realm would freely give aid to men who were fighting to save the Crown but then that person obviously didn’t know Wardington. Nothing was free. Everything came at a price, and Morgan was about to meet his.

  He’d given his will to his friend Simon St. Clair, who was the leader of the O.S.S. and would make sure his earnings found their way to the charities Morgan most supported. Morgan also owned half of Atlantic Imports, a shipping company that had made him and Sir Lucas Seton very wealthy men. The only country the company didn’t do much business with was America because of their insistence on keeping slaves. Morgan had plans for his money to help many of the improvised families in London and if he died, he knew Lucas and Simon would see to it.

  As he neared the house, he heard the distinctive sound of an ax breaking wood and followed the noise around the front and toward the back of the house. Once he cleared the building, he stopped.

  The man holding the ax had always been a large man, both intimidating and imposing, while his heart was full of kindness. Hiram’s hair had grown. The dark locks were tied at the base of his neck. He looked nothing like the young lord he’d once been. A beard covered the lower part of his face, but Morgan would recognize his own brother anywhere. How Wardington had managed to find him while the Marchioness of Durham and her army of servants and hired men hadn’t, Morgan would never know. Morgan probably could have found Hiram himself, since he was well trained in finding people and knew his brother well. However, Morgan had understood the reasons Hiram had left and let his brother go, wishing him luck and happiness.

  Hiram Platt looked up and blinked. “Morgan?” He looked older, his plain cotton shirt and trousers stained and tattered from being well worn. If their mother saw him now, she would cry. Faint even.

  Morgan walked over to Hiram and found himself looking up as he went. It wasn’t that Morgan was a short man. He was much taller than most, but Morgan had yet to meet a man who was taller than his brother. “Hiram.”

  Hiram smiled before wrapping heavy arms around Morgan. He smelled foul, but Morgan didn’t hesitate to hug his older brother back, clinging to him. It had been seven years, seven long years.

  When they pulled away, there were tears in Hiram’s eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again.” He kept a hand on Morgan’s shoulder as though to ensure he wasn’t a vision. Slowly, Hiram’s smile fell. “How did you find me? Did you come alone? Did Mother send you?” He looked worried.

  Morgan shook his head. “No. No one knows I’m here, Hiram. I didn’t even know it was you I was coming to see.”

  Hiram frowned. “If not Mother, then who sent you?”

  “The Duke of Wardington.”

  Hiram’s expression didn’t clear. “Wardington sent you? Why? I knew him. We spoke occasionally, but we were never close.” Hiram paused to think. “What does he want from me? Surely, Mother has not enlisted his help in getting me to return to London.” Hiram’s English accent was all but gone, but the dread that filled his face touched Morgan’s gut.

  Morgan couldn’t offer his brother any assurances. Since Wardington had not told him who he was seeing, Morgan hadn’t been prepared to see his brother. Had he known he was visiting Hiram, he would have brought things for him and perhaps letters from his friends… and maybe that was the reason Wardington had not told him. Perhaps Wardington had no plans to expose Hiram. It made sense, but it was also possible that Wardington had only kept his brother a secret in order to drive Morgan mad. That idea seemed even more plausible.

  “How are you?” Morgan decided to say. “How’s Lila?”

  At the mention of his wife, Hiram smiled again, and Morgan could feel the warmth that touched his eyes. The look his brother was giving him was one that Morgan would have to resign himself to never having. He could never see himself loving any woman of his mother’s choosing.

  “Lila is Lily here,” Hiram told him. “And I’m Henry Pike.”

  Morgan nodded in understanding.

  “We’re not rich, as you can see. Some days are harder than others.” Hiram laughed softly. “Lily is better at everything than I am, since she came from the country. If not for her, we’d have starved last winter.”

  Hearing that nearly broke Morgan’s heart and though he thought it insensitive, he had to ask, “Has it all been worth it?”

  A peaceful expression softened Hiram’s brown eyes. “Yes. I’d choose Lily over life. I’d choose her over anything.” It was exactly what he had done. He’d chosen his wife over a title and a loveless marriage to a woman of his mother’s choosing. That had been the arrangement when their parents married. The Marquess of Durham had been impoverished when he’d begun courting Julie Grace. The Grace family had been wealthy and in order to get their money, Julie had required a few things from her husband and one of those things had been choosing the wife of the next heir. Duty to that oath had held Hiram in a bind, but Hiram had chosen love over title and left Morgan with the burden after their father died a few years ago.

  And before Morgan’s father left this world, he’d made Morgan swear to honor his oath. Morgan had no other choice but to do as his father had asked.

  Hiram squeezed Morgan’s shoulder, bringing him back to the present. “You have a neph
ew. He’s six and very tall.”

  Morgan smiled at the good news and laughed. “I’m not surprised to hear this, considering who his father is.”

  “Lily is pregnant again.” Hiram put on a smile, but the worry was there. They were struggling. Another child would not be good.

  “I can’t let you live like this,” Morgan said. “I’ve money. I’ll send you some.”

  Hiram dropped his hand and shook his head. “If you keep sending us money, eventually Mother will find me, and I’ll be forced back to London.” And once he touched England, his title would be restored.

  “But you’re married. Mother has no control over you,” Morgan said.

  The expression in Hiram’s eyes put fear in Morgan’s blood. “Morgan, you have no idea who that woman truly is and what she’s capable of.” He looked away.

  Morgan frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, I suppose they never told you.” Hiram shook his head. “I’m sorry you’re going through this. It’s my fault.”

  That couldn’t be denied.

  Hiram said, “I’ll tell you what you need to know, but I warn you that you’ll never see that woman the same again. You do plan to stay the night, don’t you?”

  “Of course, and while I’m here, I plan to pay my own way.”

  “Morgan.” Hiram frowned.

  Morgan held up a hand. “I was instructed by Wardington to bring coins. American money. No banknotes. Nothing that our mother can use to find you. You’ve nothing to fear.” Then he remembered the other half of his mission and dug into his breast pocket. He pulled out two notes, looked them over, and handed the correct one to his brother. “Wardington told me that if you replied to the question ‘Was it all worth it?’ with a yes. I was to give you this note.”