by Joyce Alec
Table of Contents
An Earl’s Agreement
Bonus Content
Regency Duke Romances
Heroes and Ladies Regency Romances
An Earl’s Agreement
Hearts and Ever Afters
Text Copyright © 2017 by Joyce Alec
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
First printing, 2017
Publisher
Love Light Faith, LLC
400 NW 7th Avenue, Unit 825
Fort Lauderdale, FL 33311
www.LoveLightFaith.com
An Earl’s Agreement
Hearts and Ever Afters
By: Joyce Alec
An Earl’s Agreement
Chapter One
London 1836
Miss Lucy Donoghue sighed happily to herself and settled back a little more against the cushions of the window seat in the library. Looking out of the window at the beautiful gardens below for a brief moment, she let her mind drift to thoughts about life and love, picturing herself as the heroine in the book she held in her hands.
Her parents would be horrified if they knew she was reading such a book, considering these novels to be both unorthodox and entirely unhelpful to a young woman of quality.
Lucy could not agree.
The books opened up a world far beyond the trappings of society, where one could find someone of worth who sought love over expectation. They told her that matrimony could happen between two individuals who held a deep and long-lasting love for each other.
It was certainly not what she saw in her own parents’ marriage. There might be affection of sorts, but nothing akin to love existed between them. Her father, the Earl of Withington, held a great deal of power within society. For whatever reason, he had a shrewd mind and could accomplish wonders within his business dealings, which garnered him a great deal of respect from the gentlemen within his acquaintance. His wife—Lucy’s mother—had the ability to look down her nose at almost anyone, even those above her own title, to the point that a great many ladies sought her favor. Lucy had heard it said on more than one occasion that to have Lady Withington’s favor meant that you were accepted within society.
Lucy, for herself, had very little interest in the subject. She attended balls and other events with her parents with good grace, but much preferred to spend her time in quiet pursuits, such as reading or discussing what she had read with anyone willing to engage with her. She had heard her mother exclaim that she had never wished for a bluestocking for a daughter, yet Lucy had not found herself caring one whit.
She was the second child, with the first, her brother Jonathan, already married and settled. Of course, he was the apple of her parents’ eyes, especially because he had done as he was expected and married well. Their father had sent him to the country with his wife, giving them one of his many holdings as a wedding present. In due course, Jonathan would inherit the earl’s title and take on all of his responsibilities.
Lucy had never been close to him. He had always been willing to do what he was asked, whereas she wished for more. She still remembered the day their mother had pressed a certain young lady’s suit onto Jonathan. On that day, she had known in her heart that her brother would marry within the year—and so it had come to pass. Jonathan had married Lady Victoria Bentson within a few months, and now, after a year, had already produced the heir to the earl’s title.
Jonathan was everything she was not: proper, compliant, and entirely respectable. She was not particularly good at the pianoforte, she shunned needlework, and she attempted to further her own knowledge through reading and discussion.
No one wants a bluestocking for a wife, she thought to herself, recalling her mother’s words and ignoring the sharp twist in her heart at the memory.
Sighing to herself, Lucy picked up her book from her lap and snuggled back against the cushions, propping the novel up on her knees. Here, hidden away in the window seat, she was able to enjoy her love of prose without anyone interrupting her. Her parents had, on many occasions, sought her out, though they had never been able to find her hidden amongst the curtains in the library. Thankfully the housekeeper had something of a soft spot for Lucy, and so never once told her parents where she might be, even if she was fully aware of it.
“This cannot go on much longer, Charles!”
Her mother’s shrill voice reached Lucy’s ears, making her jump with surprise. Slowly closing the book, she wondered whether to pull open the curtains and announce her presence, but then her parents would know one of her favorite hiding places and all would be undone.
Instead, Lucy remained entirely still, thinking that she might stop up her ears with her fingers. She did not want to eavesdrop, did not want to hear her parents’ private business, which was not hers to know.
“Whatever shall we do with her, Charles? Did you see her at the ball last evening?”
Lucy swallowed, nerves beginning to flurry through her stomach. They were discussing her. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of the last ball she had attended with her parents. Her mother had caught her deep in discussion with two other gentlemen, talking about the merits of the Scottish Poor Law in relation to the English law. What had made it worse was that both gentlemen, while titled, had been of a lower standing than her father, and Lucy knew she was expected to marry either within a similar rank or, preferably, higher.
“She is becoming wild!” her mother screeched as Lucy heard her father slam the door with his usual lack of consideration. “Discussing the Poor Law, discussing poverty, and the workhouse! That is not the kind of subject a young lady needs to talk about. She should be fluttering her fan and seeking to ensure her dance card is full.”
“Did she not dance at all?” her father asked, his voice grave. “I can scarcely believe that. Lucy is one of the most beautiful and most eligible young women at such events.”
“She did dance some,” her mother replied slowly. “But her beauty and eligibility mean nothing, Charles, not when she is so lacking in other ways.”
Lucy’s grip tightened on her book, her fingers growing white as she forced her anger back under control. She had no need to simper and smile, since none of the young men her parents favored was of any interest to her. In fact, she considered them all quite dull! They looked at her as though she were simply some kind of adornment, one they could wear on their arm, but care very little about.
No, she did not want that kind of man for a husband. Instead, she sought someone who actually had some semblance of character, someone who appreciated her desire for knowledge and wish to better herself. She needed a husband with whom she could talk, a husband who enjoyed spending time in her company instead of simply expecting her to turn up to societal events with him.
Love? She smiled softly, her parents’ voices fading into the background. Perhaps love, and if not love, then certainly affection, for she was sure that affection could, and would, grow to love.
Lucy was determined not to ever allow herself to marry someone who had utterly no regard for her, nor she for him. That kind of marriage would only turn out to be similar to the bond her parents had, a bond that was brittle and liable to snap at any moment. Her lip curled with distaste.
She was more than aware that her father had a few mistresses throughout their marriage, for he often shouted it at her m
other when he drank too much whiskey. No, her parent’s marriage was a decidedly unhappy one, and certainly not one Lucy sought for herself.
“I do have a friend that would be a fine match for Lucy,” her father said slowly, his voice suddenly capturing her attention again. “I know he is keen to wed once more, but no one has caught his eye as yet.”
Her mother snorted. “And you really think Lucy might be the one to do so?”
“As it happens, the gentleman is interested in some kind of partnership with me.”
Lucy gripped her book tighter and tighter as the seconds ticked on. Surely he was not about to suggest that she be pushed into another man’s arms as some kind of business agreement.
“Then you think Lucy might wed him, and secure your partnership?” her mother asked quietly. “Who is this man? That does not make sense, Charles.”
“Of course it does,” her father blustered, sounding both irritated and angry that his wife had questioned him. “Have you not just finished telling me that Lucy is struggling to find a suitor? Lord Hutton is quite desperate to be in partnership with me, I believe, and will do exactly as I ask, I am sure of it. He will take Lucy off our hands, make her more than respectable, and my holdings will be more than secure with his additional funding. What issues can you foresee, my dear?”
There was silence as Lucy held back her shriek of refusal and despair. She clenched her fists and pressed one to her mouth; tears began to roll unchecked down her cheeks.
“And if she does not agree?” her mother asked, a worried ring to her voice. “What then?”
Her father chuckled. “She will have no choice but to agree. Our stubborn, rebellious daughter is about to realize that she will do as she is told, or she will be out in the cold. She will lose all respectability and, without funds, what exactly is she to do?”
Clapping her hands together, her mother let out a squeal of glee. “Wonderful! It is about time that girl learns her place.”
“I shall speak to Hutton as soon as possible,” her father finished, his footsteps carrying him across the floor. “Shall we, my dear?”
Lucy kept silent until the sounds of their footsteps died away, leaving her entirely alone once more. Putting her head in her hands, she allowed the pain and hurt she felt bubble to the surface as fresh tears began to fall. Her parents had, unwittingly, alerted her to their intentions, but she had never expected them to be so cruel. Was she really so much of a burden that they would push her onto Lord Hutton, a man almost the same age as her father?
No.
Lucy dried her eyes and lifted her chin, staring out of the window. She would not allow this to happen. She could not. Now that she knew exactly what her parents intended, she would have time to try and find a way out.
Unfortunately, her mind was so cluttered and her emotions so fraught that she could do nothing more than stare out into the gardens, the book slowly falling from her fingers and landing with a bump on the floor.
Chapter Two
Lucy hugged the wall, keeping as much to the shadows as possible. She had not wanted to attend the ball, given what she had heard only this very afternoon, but she could not allow her parents to guess that she was privy to their conversation.
Pretending that all was well had been difficult, but not entirely unmanageable, although she had hated the sudden gleam in her mother’s eye as she discussed the upcoming ball and the various gentlemen that Lucy might meet.
She had managed to escape her parents’ attention almost immediately and had rushed to where she would be least likely spotted. It was not her usual behavior, of course, but she had to discover whether or not Lord Hutton was there—and if her parents were intending to speak to him that very night.
Her stomach rolled with distaste as the man himself came into her line of view, mopping his red, sweating face with a large, yellow handkerchief. His balding head gleamed in the candlelight, his rotund figure adorned in swathes of bright yellow and green fabric. It was an almost comically grotesque sight. Lord Hutton, of course, was known to be wealthy, and it was only because of his status that he was given so much leeway by society. However, Lucy found him utterly detestable. Shivering, she imagined his pudgy hand taking hers, his large fingers sealing her to him. Shaking her head, she diverted her gaze. She could not allow this to happen. She would not allow her parents to even introduce him to her.
Unfortunately for Lucy, that was exactly what unfolded in front of her. To her horror, she saw her father shaking Lord Hutton’s hand, his eyes searching the crowd. Lucy knew exactly who he was searching for, her stomach rolling with alarm and anxiety.
Her feet moved before she even thought about where she was going. Practically clinging to the wall, Lucy walked slowly, ducking behind tall gentlemen so that she remained hidden from view.
A blast of cool air hit her, making her heart beat a little faster. Cool air meant a door.
Moving as carefully as she could, she caught sight of the open French doors. The orchestra began to play and couples took to the floor, leaving her a little more exposed. Her breath hitched as she scrabbled for the door leading to the gardens, keeping herself low as she hurried outside.
The darkness welcomed her like an old friend, wrapping itself around her and hiding her from the prying eyes of Lord Hutton. Lucy drew in a long breath and scurried further into the gardens, wishing she had brought her shawl. The path was lit by only a few stray lanterns, bathing her steps in shadow. Lucy did not know what to do or where to go, realizing that she was only delaying the inevitable.
Her slippers grew cold and damp as she left the path and crossed the grass in search of a quiet place where she could be alone. If she remained on the path, she might very well come across courting couples, which would bring her only embarrassment.
Stumbling further into the gloom, she managed to find a small, enclosed arbor, encircled by a thick hedge and revealing a small bench within. A single lantern lit the way, and, to Lucy’s surprise, she found it slightly warmer inside, hidden from view.
The arbor was exactly the place she needed, somewhat sheltered from the cool night air and giving her the privacy to gather her scrambling thoughts. Sitting down heavily on the bench, Lucy put her face in her hands and tried desperately not to cry. She struggled to see any way out of her predicament while Lord Hutton’s leering face swam into her mind.
She had no doubt that her father would do exactly as he said, for he had always been a hard-hearted man. That was why he had been so prosperous in his business dealings: a man with a tender and compassionate heart would not be willing to make some of the callous decisions he had.
If Lucy refused to marry Lord Hutton, she would find herself without a home and without funds—and then what was she to do? Find employment somehow, even without references, without the proper attire? She would be cleaning the homes of her counterparts, easy pickings for any gentlemen who had his eye on her. Could she run to the country? Stay with her brother?
Lucy sighed to herself, knowing that Jonathan would not come to her aid so easily. He was too straight-laced and would most likely return her to her parents’ home, instructing her to do as she was told. No, he would not be any kind of help.
For the first time, Lucy wished she had some kind of close friend to whom she could turn. Of course, she had acquaintances, but none of the other young ladies had ever seemed remotely interested in what she considered her passions. They were too interested in discussing their latest achievements, whether it was on the pianoforte or just how many gentlemen callers they had. Lucy had never formed a particular bond with them, nor with anyone else.
This left her entirely alone, she realized. Her heart sank and moisture began to cling to her lashes. Her shoulders began to shake as she finally understood how desperate her situation truly was. So lost was she in her sorrow that she did not hear footsteps, followed by a sudden gasp of shock.
“I do beg your pardon, miss.”
The voice caught her attention at once, and, hasti
ly wiping her eyes, Lucy glanced up at the tall figure in the doorway of the arbor.
“Oh, no, it is quite all right,” she murmured, hating that her privacy had been intruded upon. She said nothing else, hoping that the intruder would leave her in peace. In the gloom, she could not make out his face, and as her heart began to pick up its pace, she hoped desperately that he was not about to attempt anything discourteous.
Her face warmed with embarrassment. Perhaps he had been planning a liaison in this very place and she had put his plans awry. She would not leave, however, for that would mean returning to the ball where she was sure Lord Hutton would be waiting for her. No, that simply would not do.
“I do apologize for the intrusion,” the man said, not making any sign of leaving. “But I have noticed that you seem to be in some distress. Can I assist you in any way?”
“Not unless you can prevent my father’s dictates from being enforced, no,” Lucy replied before she could stop herself. “Please, do not let me bother you.”
“It is of no trouble,” he responded, gesturing to another bench to her left. “May I?”
She hesitated, still unable to see his face in the darkness. Her nerves jangled as a loud warning sounded in her mind that she absolutely should not be ensconced with a gentleman in a garden arbor, no matter how kind he appeared.
“You are reticent, of course,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “How rude of me not to introduce myself. I am Lord Caldwell.
Lucy’s eyebrows lifted with surprise. “Why are you not enjoying the ball? Won’t your parents be searching for you?”
Lord Caldwell sat down carefully, and the bench groaned loudly. “I needed some fresh air. My mother is currently enjoying the ball, but my father, the Marquess of Blackinstore, has gone to Paris on business of some sort. first son of.”