The Dark Earl and His Runaway (The Friendship Series Book 5)

by Julia Donner

  The sound of masculine voices and laughter floated into the courtyard, prompting Leticia to quickly say, “They’ve returned. Thank you, thank you for coming to stay, giving me advice, and most of all, becoming the best of friends!”

  Cass leaned down to press her cheek to Leticia’s. When she straightened up, Leticia noticed her taut features, the glimmer in her eyes. “Cass, what is it?”

  The countess swallowed and looked away, replying in a gruff voice, “Tis nothing.”

  Leticia glanced at Elizabeth, who lowered her voice and explained with pretend gravity, “She’s just now come to the realization that she has women friends.”

  Cass put her nose in the air. “Two of them. I had you, and now, little Cia.”

  Deciding that their farewell had sunk to the maudlin, Leticia quipped, “Does this mean you’ll plant a facer on Geoff’s light-skirt?”

  Cass stared, then hooted an unladylike laugh. She made a fist to punch an imaginary foe, then threw up her hands and squeaked a girlish squeal of horror. Leticia and Elizabeth dissolved into a giggling fit that never let up when they joined the spouses at the carriages. Asterly gave his wife a perplexed look. Ravenswold’s expression remained impassive as he handed his laughing wife into their coach.

  Bainbridge stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Her merriment calmed as she understood the significance of the embrace. He no longer needed to hide his difficulty reading with her, trusted her, and no longer worried she would think less of him.

  He couldn’t see her blinking back tears when he propped his chin on the top of her head. “What has all of you laughing? I can still hear Cass from here. Was it some ridiculous thing that only a foolish fellow like myself would do?”

  Cass thrust her head out of a window to madly wave. Leticia waved back to what she hoped was the beginning of many guests in future. Then she remembered what she had done and hoped that Bainbridge would agree with her decision when their next guest arrived. She couldn’t bear the idea of anything spoiling the companionship they’d found.

  Chapter 26

  Weeks passed and the sultry weather began to wane. Autumn and the Season loomed. The idea of setting up house in London no longer caused the anxiety she initially suffered from the social role she was expected to fulfill. Elizabeth would guide her safely through the treacherous waters of society, and if anyone brought her grief, Cass would knock them down. Or run over them in one of her carriages. The horrible and yet comical image made her smile and preserved a light spirit.

  Then she heard the bell clang at the gatehouse. Her heart stuttered and began to pound. She hurried from the study and ran directly into her husband’s chest.

  Amused by her flustered haste, he held her by the arms to stop her. “Where are you heading at a run? I’ve come to tell you they’ve found Holcombe.”

  Distracted from him showing up when he was supposed to be elsewhere at this time of day, she didn’t know how to answer. She had hoped to spring the surprise in a more restful setting. Perhaps after she’d poured a bottle of wine down his throat to dull the shock.

  “Cia, I can’t believe you’re not interested.”

  “I am. Have you put him in the dungeon?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps the magistrate will allow it.”

  She smiled but couldn’t suppress the squirming urge to be let free. “Where is he now?”

  “London. They caught up with him trying buy passage to India. He carried a great deal of ready cash, which I expect they’ll return to me. You’re fidgeting. What is it?”

  “Geoffrey, we have a guest. Come with me.”

  He took her hand, threading his fingers through hers, and matched his stride to hers. “I heard the bell. That was a very good idea, by the way. It saves someone from the house running down to fetch me.” He paused to give her a meaningful smirk, “but as of late, I’ve been spending more time here than at the stable.”

  She answered, not knowing what. Her mind was focused on arriving outside before the guest stepped down from the carriage. On the doorstep, a breeze carried the bite of colder weather to come. She hadn’t thought to bring a shawl, too intent for this moment. She told herself not to shift and jiggle, a combination of anxiety and excitement, as the coach rolled to a stop.

  The horses snorted and coughed, breathing hard. The team’s dark coats looked rough, and they held their tired heads as low as the checkreins allowed, telling many things. They hadn’t been recently changed out to save on traveling expenses, and layers of fresh and dried mud spoke of having come a long distance. These indications confirmed Leticia’s belief that the invitation she had sent to the far north weeks ago had been accepted. At the time, she’d worried about possible financial strain but could think of no polite way to offer to cover the journey’s cost.

  An outrider let down the steps. A gloved hand reached out to grasp the groom’s assistance. The lady stepped down and folded back a capacious hood. Beside her, Bainbridge stiffened. His hand released hers and he was gone from her side in an instant.

  Leticia watched from the steps as Bainbridge swept the woman up into his arms, holding her high to look at her. He said nothing, his features stark, as if carved from stone. As if she needed to confirm and cast off disbelief, the woman held his face between her hands, studying and assessing, then pressed her forehead to his.

  On a sob, she whispered, “Son.”

  Word sped through the manor, and servants from the time Bainbridge was a child came hurrying out to greet his mother. Leticia stayed on the doorstep, while the excitement was at its peak. She heard the butler making arrangements for the weary coachman and outrider and sent for the headgroom to care for the exhausted horses. There was little to do in the house. The dowager’s rooms and arrangements for her staff had been readied long ago.

  When the furor ebbed, Leticia went down the steps to greet Bainbridge’s mother and recognized the smile, so like her son’s. Leticia curtsied. “Lady Bainbridge.”

  “Now-now, none of that, my girl. I am Sylvia, and you are little Cia. You cannot know how delighted I was to receive your letter. You see, I’ve been waiting all these years for this day. And how marvelous, Geoffrey, you’ve given her the pearls! Did I not always say all good things will come to pass with her under your wing?”

  Beneath the cheer and joy, Leticia saw the damage of years of grief and exile. She constantly returned her attention to her son, as if famished, and he, a glorious feast. They needed time alone, prompting Leticia to loop her arm through the dowager’s and draw her toward the house.

  “Please, come inside. You will want to rest, and I know Bainbridge will have difficulty allowing you out of his sight for even a second, but it’s been a long journey.”

  “It’s been a very long way.” She paused to look around. Her love for Stokebrook glowed in her eyes and the gentle curve of her lips. “How I’ve missed being here.”

  Bainbridge’s voice sounded rusty when he asked, “How far have you come, Mother?”

  She looked up at him, her smile widening. “Cumberland. I’ve been living with your Aunt Phoebe. She and her husband kindly took me in.”

  Leticia glanced away from Bainbridge’s grimace. She’d deal with his guilt later. For now, his mother’s welfare was her concern. She again tried to draw the dowager up the steps. “After you’ve rested, we’ll have tea. Then I shall leave you and your son alone to learn of what has passed since you left Stokebrook.”

  The dowager tugged her hand free and turned to the open coach door. “Come along, Caroline.”

  Leticia turned to peer into the carriage. A cloaked female sat in shadow. “I’ve arranged for your maid to have a room situated closer to yours. I’m sure you remember how the women’s dormitory was so far away. They’re now on the fourth floor, but if you wish, we could have a cot set up in the dressing room.”

  “Oh, I haven’t a maid. Geoffrey, take my hand.” She drew him back to the carriage. “Caroline, no more dawd
ling. Geoffrey, this is your sister.”

  A tall, young woman descended. Scorning hat, gloves and the company, she ignored the offer of her brother’s extended hand. Glossy black waves and curls tumbled around her shoulders. Arrogance and anger, the intimidating flash of shocking blue eyes clashed with her tanned, olive complexion. Other than her height, she looked nothing like her brother.

  Leticia concealed her surprise, not that she had a sister-in-law, but that Caroline appeared so much younger in age to her brother, who looked too stunned to recognize this significant detail. Before Lady Caroline could stride away, he grasped her arm and turned her to face him. When Lady Caroline jerked her arm free, Leticia sent the butler a speaking glance. He immediately herded the staff indoors.

  When his sister attempted to move away, Bainbridge took hold of both of her arms to hold her in place. “Please. I understand your resentment. Allow me to explain.”

  She lifted her chin and glared up at him. “Mother can forgive what’s been done to her, but I cannot.”

  “Then don’t, but Caroline, do not distress our mother.”

  The staring match ended when Caroline lowered her gaze. “I agree. Truce, then, because Mother has suffered enough. But it isn’t you. It’s this place. I know that sounds unreasonable, but if you had lived my life, you would understand.”

  She stepped back to allow her brother to escort their mother inside. The glare she swept over Stokebrook and her brother’s retreating back had lost some of its fury. Suspicion and curiosity had taken its place.

  Leticia raised her hand, detaining Caroline without touching her and was acknowledged with a grudging curtsey. “Lady Bainbridge, my thanks for your kind letter to Mother.”

  “You read it, then?”

  “Mother’s eyesight is failing,” was her abrupt reply.

  “Lady Caroline, there are aspects regarding the unfortunate estrangement that might allow some insight into this sad episode.”

  “You’ll forgive my difficulty with believing the sincerity of my brother’s belated attentions. The urging of your kinder heart notwithstanding, Mother would still be sitting heartbroken in the Highlands without your more generous spirit.”

  Leticia paused then asked, “Before we go inside, will you walk with me for a while? There is something I should like to tell you. Something that could not be explained in a letter. It is a subject painful for my husband, an impediment I only recently discovered. It didn’t cause the initial estrangement, but it was used it to keep you apart. The perpetrator has been found out and will be punished. Will you listen?”

  “If you wish it. I must be grateful for your discernment. Although my brother seems not to have noticed so glaring a detail, we haven’t the same father. Is that why Mother was cast off?”

  “I prefer to believe it was for another reason. The earl was indeed a violent and jealous man, but I’ve recently learned that he had contracted a disease no one would wish to pass on to another.”

  It took a walk of the breadth of Stokebrook’s exterior for Leticia to relay the circumstances that separated mother and son, brother and sister. When they’d completed the walk of the perimeter, Caroline stopped at the entrance. She studied the stone griffins carved into each side of the wide entrance, then looked out at the gatehouse and remaining barrier of stone, the remainder of what had once been castle walls.

  “Thank you, Lady Bainbridge, for your explanation and patience.”

  “Leticia.”

  “Very well. It will take some time for me to fully forgive.”

  “And that is to be expected.”

  Caroline looked around. “It’s hard to believe that I’m here. Mother talked endlessly about Stokebrook. She said that her side of the family had roots in the place. Marriage within the family lines was repeatedly practiced.”

  “Yes. I am a distant cousin to your brother. And now, you. It is right that you have returned. Stokebrook is your home, once taken from you, now restored.”

  Caroline took time to absorb the idea. “It will take a while to forgive that horrid man and this place. I was reared on Mother’s grief and longing for all that had been taken. Not a day passed when she didn’t mourn the loss of this wretched pile and her son.”

  Relieved that a modicum of Caroline’s antipathy had waned, Leticia said, “Your brother will adore you, no matter what you think of him. He is as loyal, kind and generous as his father was not.”

  Leticia had relied on the sharp intelligence in Caroline’s eyes, who lifted a corner of her mouth in a half smile—silent acknowledgement that Leticia had purposely not included the late earl as her father.

  Leticia returned the smile. “Let’s go in and start new lives. I dreamed of having a sister when I was a girl.”

  “I don’t know if I’m quite ready for that.”

  “No matter. We shall be friends.”

  Leticia went up the steps, where Bainbridge waited. He stepped aside to allow Caroline to pass and stayed in the open doorway. He wrapped an arm around her, hauling her against his side, and whispered in her ear, “Thank you for finding Mother and bringing her home.”

  “I didn’t know about your sister.”

  “That was evident when you supposed she was Mother’s maid.”

  “Geoffrey, your mother. I remember her now. What did she mean earlier, about all good things coming to pass?”

  A crisp wind blew cold air underneath her skirt hem and she shivered. As he embraced her deeper against his warmth, he said, “ Mother has the sight from her grandmother. At your christening, she made me vow to care for and protect you all of your life and mine. She insisted that you had been sent to love and heal me. And Stokebrook.”

  “How extraordinary. I wonder, did she say anything about children?”

  “No.”

  She pulled free and grabbed his hand, tugging him inside. “She was right about everything else. Let’s go ask!”

  Dear Reader: If you enjoyed The Dark Earl and His Runaway, please consider writing a review, (they’re so appreciated) and visit me at: https://historyfanforever.wordpress.com/ and www.MLRigdon.com

  Following this excerpt from The Dandy and the Flirt is a brief synopsis of Book 7 of the Friendship Series.

  THE DANDY AND THE FLIRT

  Friendship Series Book 6

  Cavendish Square

  Summer 1820

  “Might I presume to ask for your advice, Lord Dev?”

  “I am your most humble servant, Lady Fortesque.”

  Emily glanced over the man seated by her side. His overuse of cologne made her queasy. The enormous gold buttons on his blue jacket emphasized his gangly frame. Only the direst of conditions coerced her into seeking advice from Lord Deverille, society’s meanest tongue.

  “Thank you, my lord. I rely on your vast knowledge of current events. It regards a bit of news making the rounds.”

  “Gossip, my dear Emily,” Lord Deverille whispered, “there’s so much of it going around.”

  Deverille tittered against his fingertips from the notion that he’d construed a clever remark. The man was tedious and his nasal voice grating, but he knew every vicious tale circulating the ton. He prided himself on being the first cat in on the kill.

  To conceal her disgust, she scanned the guests at Lord and Lady Asterly’s rout. How Deverille got invited to this sort of gathering she couldn’t fathom, but from him, she would pry what bit of muck society might be whispering about her. Other than the usual snippets about her present ciscebo, had they guessed the truth? If so, she was about to become society’s next prey.

  To satisfy Deverille’s quest for veneration, Emily bestowed on the smirking prig her sultriest smile. “One can always rely on your wit, my lord. Ever so titillating.”

  Deverille preened in the glow of her faux admiration and twirled a gem-studded quizzing glass. He wore half-gloves of jade green silk, his too-long fingers poking from the ends. She’d never seen a gentleman wear them for evening dress. Clerks and accounts wore them in the w
inter as they hunched over documents in unheated offices. Deverille hoped to set a fashion, but the look was off-putting, and she didn’t care for men who didn’t pare their nails. Long fingernails invariably left marks.

  A movement from the other side of the room, the entrance of a latecomer, snared her attention. “Ah, Sir Hugh has arrived. He never changes, does he?”

  Deverille sneered in the newcomer’s direction, unable to hide his envy. Dressed entirely in black with the exception of glaring white neckwear, Sir Hugh Exton-Lloyd was worthy of scrutiny. He was perfection from the sun-streaks slashing through light brown waves to his silk stockings and shiny, patent slippers.

  Tonight, Sir Hugh carried a fan, a subtle announcement that he meant to engage in a flirtation. What better way to gain a lady’s appreciation? How innocent, and yet deliciously provocative, that refreshing caress of a fan’s breeze after a heated county dance. Oh, the memories that memory evoked, and with it came an extraordinary idea. Why hadn’t she thought of this solution before?

  Deverille interrupted her thought when he twitched his nose and trained his quizzing glass on Sir Hugh. “There’s a bit of tasty gossip.”

  “Hugh? The source of gossip? I don’t believe it.’

  “Nothing sordid, I’m afraid. Merely that he’s on the hunt for another Lady Exton-Lloyd. The last attempt fizzled, you know”

  Emily couldn’t say her opinion out loud. She couldn’t help thinking that if Hugh hadn’t worn out his first wife having babies every year, perhaps he wouldn’t have to go to the bother of finding another one.

  “Sorry, Lord Dev, but there will be no juicy tales of any sort told about that one. I’ve known the man all my life. He’d have to pull the stick that he is from a prodigious deep mud hole first. Cousin Hugh would sooner allow the starch to seep from his cravat than do anything to incite gossip”

  “I do beg your pardon. I had forgotten that you were related.”