Before I Was Yours, My Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hanna Hamilton

  Before I Was Yours, My Earl

  A Historical Regency Romance Novel

  Hanna Hamilton

  Edited by

  Robin Spencer

  Contents

  A Thank You Gift

  Before You Start Reading…

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Preview: Everything a Marquess Should Never Do

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Also by Hanna Hamilton

  About the Author

  A Thank You Gift

  Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.

  As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called A True Lady. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.

  Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.

  Hanna Hamilton

  Before You Start Reading…

  Did you know that there’s a special place where you can chat with me and with thousands of like-minded bookworms all over the globe?!

  Join Cobalt Fairy’s facebook group of voracious readers and I guarantee you, you’d wish you had joined us sooner!

  Let’s connect, right NOW!

  Just click on the image above! ⇧

  About the Book

  “I would rather have today with you than forever with anyone else...”

  Navigating an unforgiving society and still mourning her husband’s untimely death, Miss Evelyn Swinton must fend for herself. To pay off the debts in her name, she is forced to accept a position as a companion to the elderly Dowager Duchess of Tolware.

  There is nothing talented cook Mayson Rudge enjoys more than spending his time in the Tolware Estate kitchens. With his troubled past a memory he’d rather die than relive, he keeps his head low and his dishes impeccable. Until the day Evelyn sets foot in the manor.

  Struggling to come to terms with their budding romance, Evelyn must fight the feelings of guilt that well up inside her at the thought of her deceased husband. However, their already fragile happiness shatters when Mayson nearly perishes at the hands of a distant memory. For the key to their life and their death is in the shape of a crescent moon.

  Chapter 1

  “Mrs. Swinton, oh, Mrs. Swinton!” called Adelaide Sculthorpe, the Duchess of Tolware. The Duchess’ beautiful round vowels and perfectly enunciated consonants could easily be heard throughout the Dower House of Tolware Estate.

  “Yes, Your Grace?” Evelyn Swinton replied. “I will be right there.”

  Evelyn hurried in, carrying a stack of books and papers. Her fair skin was flushed with effort, a strand of brown hair had escaped her becoming black lace cap. A smudge of dust adorned one side of her small, well-shaped nose.

  “Did you find it?” the Duchess asked.

  “I did,” Evelyn replied. “It was with a stack of old school papers and copybooks. I found these books, as well. His Grace must have been very fond of travelogues.”

  “Oh, he was, poor man,” the Duchess agreed. “He always became terribly ill when traveling, however. We often rode horseback because he found the swaying of a carriage unendurable. And boats... Oh, boats were right out. Poor George would be hanging over the railing heaving up his toenails before we had even left the dock.”

  “Dear me,” Evelyn commented, using a napkin from the tea table to dust off a worn copy book. The legend on the front read, George Sculthorpe, His Book. “That must have made life terribly difficult for both of you.”

  “Oh, not so much as you might think,” the Duchess replied. “We both liked staying at home and reading, so it was not so very terrible that he truly had a difficult time traveling. When little Darrius came along, we spent hours doting on him. We were both sad when we learned that we would not be able to give him a little brother or sister.”

  “I am so sorry,” Evelyn replied comfortingly. “That must have been difficult.”

  “Perhaps not as difficult as actually having another child,” the Duchess winked one eye at Evelyn, roguishly. “Or raising a second one, for that matter. Darrius kept us fully occupied, sometimes from daylight till dark. He was quite the apple of his father’s eye.”

  “No doubt that is how it should be,” Evelyn commented. “It is quite tragic when parents do not love their children. It is perfectly clear that you still dote on His Grace.”

  “Oh, my, I suppose I do. It seems strange to hear you call Darrius ‘His Grace’. I always look about for his father. How I do miss him.”

  “I understand,” Evelyn said, soothingly. “Even after time has passed it is difficult to be parted from a loved one.” Evelyn could not prevent a little sigh from escaping her lips.

  “Oh, my dear, I did not mean to remind you,” the Duchess instantly looked contrite. “How are you holding up?”

  “Well enough,” Evelyn replied. “Much better since I have been here. Everyone is so kind, you most of all.”

  “Think nothing of it, my dear,” the Dowager Duchess waved one plump hand, well-bejeweled with rings. “It is only fitting that two widows should help each other. My days had become quite dreary. You make them far more interesting. Now, let me see if we have the right notebook.”

  Evelyn handed the notebook to the Duchess. She opened the notebook at once, held up her lorgnette, and began scanning the pages. “Ah, yes, this is the one. We went on a walking tour through the upper meadows and on up into the hills. It was quite educational.”

  “Was it, indeed?” Evelyn asked with interest.

  “Oh, ever so, my dear. It was spring and we got to see the birds with their little chicks. Once we caught a glimpse of a fox, and we saw tracks of a family of deer, although we never saw the creatures themselves.”

  “It sounds wonderful,” Evelyn said.

  “It was glorious,” Her Grace rhapsodized. “Of course, I would find it sadly difficult to take such a walking tour now.”

  “I understand,” Evelyn replied.

  The Dowager Duchess shifted her bulk in her wingback chair. “Oh, you need not mince words, Mrs. Swinton. I am old and fat, barely able to totter from bed to table and back again.”

  “I would never have said so, Your Grace. Besides, I saw you dance at the last cotilli
on.”

  “Oh, yes, you did. After all, what is life without dancing? But you also heard me groan and complain for the next three days. It is a good thing that our country life is relatively uneventful or I should be crippled up like an old spavined mare needing to be put out to pasture.”

  Evelyn laughed. “Oh, never say so, Your Grace. You are young at heart, and lively when it counts. I daresay you shall live to see all the rest of us out to pasture. But you said you had something for me to look at?”

  “Indeed I did. Now let me see if I can find it. Oh, here we are. My eyes are not what they once were, my dear. See if you can read it out.”

  Evelyn took the copybook, seated herself on a hassock that stood near the Duchess’ chair, and obligingly began to read,

  “Today we trod the grounds of Hillsworth Estate, a fine county home, well-appointed with lanes, fields, and vistas.”

  “George did love to write in high style,” the Duchess remarked. “Hearing you read it out is almost like having him at my side again.” The Duchess took out a hanky and dabbed at her eyes.

  “Shall I stop?” Evelyn asked. “I do not wish to make you unhappy.”

  “Oh, no, dear child. We had a wonderful marriage, and many happy days together. These tears are merely water to keep my memories green and growing. I would not want for George to be forgotten.”

  “Very well,” Evelyn said. “I shall read on.”

  “‘My Duchess and I rode over in the high perch phaeton. She looked very fine in a trim habit of gray lambswool, a top hat and veil. Although the long linen duster did rather spoil the general effect, it protected her gown and jacket from the dust of our passage.’”

  Evelyn paused. “I thought the late Duke of Tolware did not care for travel.”

  “Not as a general rule,” the Duchess said judiciously, “But he did not mind riding in an open-air conveyance. I was expecting Darrius at the time, and he did not wish to expose me to the jouncing I would have received on horseback. I rather resented the cosseting, but since Darrius proved to be our one and only child, in retrospect I can scarcely blame George for taking care of me.”

  “Indeed,” Evelyn agreed equably. “Shall I read on?”

  “Oh, do please,” the Duchess encouraged her.

  Evelyn continued,

  “‘The entrance is through a long lane, pleasantly lined with chestnut trees on either side. Between the trees, one can gain glimpses of the cricket field and the bowling green. Drawing up in front of the house we were met by Barnard Rutley, Earl of Hillsworth, his young son, and his stripling younger brother.’”

  Evelyn paused and cleared her throat.

  “Tea?” Her Grace suggested.

  “Yes, please,” Evelyn replied. “I swallowed quite a lot of dust while I was looking.”

  “Pour for both of us, if you don’t mind,” the Duchess directed.

  Evelyn obediently took the tea cozy off the pot that stood on the small table in front of the Duchess and poured a cup for each of them. She then added sugar and cream to the Duchess’ tea, while taking her own tea plain.

  “You do not wish to have any sugar or cream?” the Dowager Duchess asked. “You want fattening up, my dear. You are thin as a rail.”

  “I never learned to like it that way,” Evelyn replied. “Then, when dear John was at his worst, we discovered that cream and sugar increased the phlegm in his throat. But that drinking his tea straight or with a little lemon could ease his coughing spasms and make them occur less often.”

  “So sad that he should pass away so young, and that you should have such a brief time together,” the Duchess said. “I am glad that George and I had so many rich years.”

  Evelyn sighed just a little. “I could have wished for more years. But toward the end he was so miserable. I was deeply saddened when he slipped away into that final sleep, but truly, I could not have wished for him to suffer more.”

  “Consumption is a difficult disease,” the Duchess agreed.

  The two ladies were silent for a moment then Evelyn said, “Shall I read on?”

  “Oh, please do,” said Her Grace. “I am truly sorry for your loss, but infinitely grateful to have discovered you in your time of need. The Dreadful Creature who previously held your post kept mooning after Darrius, and I simply could not have it.”

  “I can assure you,” Evelyn replied, “that I have no intention of mooning after anyone. John was my true love. One can hardly expect to find another in a single lifetime.”

  “Quite so, quite so. Now, do read on. I love sharing the pleasant memories. We had a grand time that day. Hillsworth Estate has rather fallen to ruin since Lord Barnard’s time, but it was beautiful that spring. I think he must have employed more than one hundred gardeners to manage the grounds.”

  “Oh, my. Is it as large as that?” Evelyn looked up from the page, which was written in an elegant, flowing hand that was somewhat difficult to read.

  “It is. More than one hundred acres, and most of it under cultivation in one way or another. We were privileged to see the mowers at work with their long scythes. They were followed after by a team of giggling young women who used rakes to gather up the grass clippings and put them in baskets.”

  “What were they giggling about?” Evelyn asked, willing to be amused.

  “Oh, silly jokes,” the Duchess smiled at the memory. “Something about the length of each gardener’s pole, and what else might grow in his garden. Or where else he might plant.”

  Evelyn laughed. “Oh, dear. Such naughty lassies.”

  “Village courtship, my dear. No doubt several of them were betrothed to the young men doing the mowing.”

  Just then, the door to the Duchess’ solar opened to admit a handsome young man.

  He was tall, broad-shouldered, with curly black hair cut in a fashionable crop, and just as fashionably tousled. He had bright blue eyes that seemed to take in everything and accept nothing at face value.

  “Mother! Are you making Mrs. Swinton read that raggedy old copybook? What happened to the new novel I purchased for you?”

  “We grew tired of it,” the Duchess said carelessly. “This is one of my favorite memory days. I wanted to share it with Mrs. Swinton.”

  “I had hoped that by burying it in amongst my old copybooks you could be distracted from it.”

  “Never, my darling son,” his mother chided him. “It was not nice of you to hide my favorite book. Naughty boy.” The Duchess shut her fan with a snap, and lightly rapped her son on the cheek with it as he bent to kiss her.

  “Ow! Mama!” he protested.

  “Oh, pish tosh, Darrius. I did not hurt you, and you know it. I would never hurt my dearest son.”

  “I am your only son, Mother,” said the Duke.

  “Which certainly makes you my dearest,” the Dowager Duchess replied, pulling his head down so that she could kiss the place she had tapped with the fan. “There now. All better?”

  “Yes, of course,” Darrius said fondly. “So you would rather bore this lovely young woman with walking around moldy old Hillsworth instead of reading the exciting new novel I brought from London especially for you? I am told that all the ladies are reading it.”

  “We read it already, my darling boy. Finished it up yesterday, did we not, Mrs. Swinton?”

  “Indeed, we did,” Mrs. Swinton corroborated loyally. She did not disclose that less than half-way through, the Duchess had declared the book a dead bore and sent her to find an encyclopedia to read instead.

  “Perhaps you could read it to me, sometime, Mrs. Swinton?” Darrius suggested with a wink.

  “Perhaps. If your mother wishes to listen to it again,” Evelyn replied, carefully keeping her voice even.

  Danger! Danger! her inner voice sounded the alarm. I fear the Duke has an exclusive reading in mind, and the Duchess has already made it clear how she feels about companions who flirt with the master of the house. Besides, Her Grace has already made it equally clear how she feels about that book.

/>   Chapter 2