The Sinful Secret 0f A Broken Earl (Historical Regency Romance)

by Lucinda Nelson

  Neither of them answered, and Henry was starting to grow impatient. He sighed audibly. “I would prefer not to be kept waiting.”

  “We’re not common folk,” Joseph said, abruptly.

  “Joseph,” Maggie said, warningly.

  “What harm could him knowing do?” Her brother replied, sounding almost desperate.

  Maggie fell silent again.

  “We’re from Brambleheath.”

  “Brambleheath,” Henry echoed. “Yes, I know of it. The Baron and Baroness passed away last year, did they not?”

  Joseph didn’t answer, but shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and it finally dawned on Henry. “You’re the son and daughter,” Henry said. “But what misfortune brings you here? The Rileys were a wealthy family.”

  “We were,” Maggie said, lifting her chin a little higher. “But father had debts none of us knew about. And since their deaths, we’ve been chased by those debts.”

  “We were told this afternoon that the collectors are going to claim the house. That’s why we’re here,” Joseph added. “It’s our last resort.”

  “You must have a hefty debt to pay.”

  “I’m new to this, so my odds are low,” Joseph replied. “When I win, the reward is substantial”

  “But you’d need a colossal streak of wins to pay off the debt, no doubt. And as you said, your odds aren’t favorable.”

  “I won that fight, didn’t I?” Joseph replied, sharply.

  “You did,” Henry acknowledged, with a nod. “And you fought very well. I admired your form. But I have been coming to this place for a long time. And I can assure you that your winning streak won’t last long. This isn’t the place to pay off your debts.”

  “Then where is?” Joseph snapped. It was clear that he was at his wit’s end, and Henry couldn’t blame him. One man left responsible for a debt that wasn’t of his making, with a sister to look after. It was no wonder that Joseph’s nerves were shot.

  “I was thinking the Radingley Estate.”

  Joseph’s momentary anger deflated into confusion. “Radingley?”

  “Yes. It’s my estate.”

  “I don’t understand,” Joseph answered.

  “I think he wants you to come work on his estate,” Maggie breathed. Henry looked at her. She was staring at him, with her brows faintly furrowed, as though she didn’t understand.

  “That’s right,” Henry answered. “I need a valet, and I pay well. You may not be able to pay off the entirety of your debts immediately, but with the guarantee of lucrative employment and my word on the matter, you could certainly placate the debt collectors.”

  A heavy silence followed.

  Henry looked between Joseph and Maggie, waiting for something to be said. But their faces were blank canvases. Henry smiled slightly at the sight of their shock. He stood and put on his jacket. “I might even have something for the lady,” he added. “Come to Radingley in the morning, and we can discuss it further.”

  “You’re leaving?” Maggie blurted.

  Henry inclined his head as he buttoned his jacket. “As I said, we will discuss it tomorrow.”

  “But why?” She said, as she stood. “Why do this for us?”

  Joseph still hadn’t spoken. He didn’t seem capable of speech.

  Henry shrugged. “I need staff. You need work. And I would rather see your brother put to better use than bleeding out in Carlisle’s ring.” He finished the last of his drink. As he put the glass down, he met her stare and said, “Don’t mistake this for a kindness. I expect hard work. And, from what I have seen of the pair of you tonight, I believe that you might be well-suited to it.”

  Henry’s expression turned expectant, as he waited for an answer. After a moment, Joseph nodded quickly and rose to take his hand.

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you,” he said.

  “Very good,” Henry replied, giving Joseph a firm handshake. “I will see you at eight. Do not be late.”

  With those final words, Henry took his leave.

  Chapter 4

  Miss Magdalene Riley, Daughter of the Baron of Brambleheath

  “I don’t trust him.” Maggie had said this several times, but Joseph wouldn’t hear it. She was pressing a cold flannel to his cheek as she spoke, cooling a bruise that was just beginning to purple.

  “We don’t have a choice but to trust him,” Joseph reminded her. “What’s your problem with him?”

  “Men who go to those places to be entertained are not good men, Joseph.”

  Joseph shook his head and pushed her hand away, flinching a little. She knew that he was sore, even if he was trying to pretend he wasn’t. He’d taken a real beating in the fight, and his body wasn’t especially accustomed to pain.

  “You’re naïve,” he said.

  Maggie sighed irritably and put the flannel aside.

  “And you’re stubborn,” she retorted.

  “Most men aren’t what you think they are, Maggie. They aren’t kind and chivalrous gentlemen.”

  Maggie knew what this was about. Their father had seemed kind and chivalrous. He’d been charming. He’d respected their mother, or so it had seemed.

  They hadn’t had any idea that he was gambling their money and their safety away every night. They’d just thought that he had a heavy workload. That he was a busy man. They hadn’t ever imagined that he was a liar.

  Maggie didn’t think Joseph would ever let go of his bitterness, now that he knew the truth. He stood and walked past her, out of the drawing room. She watched him leave and gnawed at the inside of her lip, thinking about the man they’d met. She realized that he hadn’t given them his name.

  Maggie stood and paced the room. There had been something about that man that had unnerved her, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She wasn’t accustomed to feeling out of her depth, but the moment she’d seen his velvet smile, she’d felt like he’d cast a spell on her. A spell that had made her forget, momentarily, that her brother was in danger.

  Until he’d opened his mouth and implied that she was a whore, Maggie had felt ready to melt into his arms. A stranger’s arms. He hadn’t looked like he belonged in that place. He’d looked like he might be kind and good.

  But with every word he’d spoken, Maggie had realized that he was nothing more than a charlatan. He may look like a gentleman, but he was anything but.

  Maggie didn’t trust him because she couldn’t understand him. He’d made it very clear that his proposition had not been provoked by good feeling. But then why should he want them to work for him? Was he planning on belittling and degrading them? And what did he have in store for her? A scullery maid?

  She’d tried to express these concerns to Joseph on the carriage-ride home, but he’d just clutched at his head and told her to stop speaking. Maggie had fallen silent, because she knew that his head must be aching. His opponent in the ring had delivered a solid punch to his temple, and his ears must surely be ringing.

  Maggie waited an hour or so after Joseph had gone to bed, before going upstairs herself. The inside of her lip felt raw from all her anxious gnawing, but she couldn’t seem to stop. As she passed her brother’s bedroom, she noticed that the door was ajar.

  She stopped and put her hand against it, feeling the grains of the wood with her fingertips. Then she pushed the door open a little further and looked inside. He was sprawled across his bed, on top of his duvet, in the very same way he’d always slept as a child.

  Maggie smiled a little. She remembered what he was like when they were younger. He’d had such a spirit for adventure. A true thrill-chaser. Free of temper, free of pain.

  Since their parents had died, and the responsibility for taking care of her had fallen to Joseph, he’d changed. Their whole relationship had changed. They used to be a team, but now she felt like a prisoner with a keeper. She knew that he didn’t mean to be unkind. That he only wanted to protect her. But she missed what they’d had before.

  Maggie looked away from him and closed the
door softly behind her when she left. She went to her bedroom and lay down, but couldn’t sleep. She stared at the ceiling, wondering what the morning would have in store for them.

  ***

  Lord Henry Rivers, the Earl of Radingley

  Henry arrived home in the early hours of the morning. He’d drunk a fair amount that evening and was just beginning to sober up.

  “Henry?”

  Henry turned when he heard his name, to see Alfred emerging from the servants’ quarters. He looked tired, but it was clear that he hadn’t slept. Alfred was Henry’s head butler, and he had served in the same position ever since Henry had been a child.

  Henry had always had a close relationship with Alfred, who had kept an eye on him when his father hadn’t been around. Which had been more often than not. His father hadn’t taken much interest in Henry, who’d been his only child.

  But Alfred had. Alfred had played with him when he was feeling lonely, taught him how to ride and fish and hunt.

  Alfred was an old man now, but that didn’t stop him from staying awake long into the night just so he could see that Henry was home safely.

  “Alfred,” Henry said, in a soft but reprimanding voice. “I’ve told you before. Don’t wait up for me.”

  Alfred smiled a little, which made the wrinkles in his cheeks even deeper. He had to walk with a cane, because his knees gave him pain when he moved. “I sleep better when I know you’re home.” Alfred squinted down at his pocket watch. “It’s very late,” he observed.

  Henry knew that Alfred wanted an explanation, but Henry wasn’t going to give him one. Nor did he feel obliged too. From time to time, Alfred overstepped the line on account of their close relationship. Henry didn’t have the heart to remind him that they weren’t father and son. Instead, he let his behavior demonstrate the boundaries between them; he did not have to explain himself.

  “Then you ought to be in bed,” Henry replied.

  Alfred did not look happy with this answer, but he wouldn’t deny Henry. He wouldn’t deny Henry anything. “Sleep in tomorrow,” Henry said. “I’ll let Agatha know.”

  Alfred opened his mouth to object, but Henry cut him off with a raised hand. “I insist,” he said. This did not appease Alfred, who huffed out a tired breath and shook his head.

  “Very well,” he conceded. Alfred turned to walk away.

  “Wait,” Henry said. “I meant to tell you that we have two new staff members arriving tomorrow. A valet and perhaps a governess, if the woman is suited to it.”

  Alfred frowned back at him.

  “You secured these individuals tonight?”

  “I did.”

  “What are their credentials?”

  “It’s awfully late to be discussing the finer details,” Henry replied, evasively. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Go to bed, Alfred.”

  Alfred looked dubious and reluctant, but he did concede. “Goodnight, Henry.”

  “Goodnight, Alfred.”

  Henry watched Alfred make his way back to the servants’ quarters, then he made his way upstairs. When he fell into bed, he thought of the brother and sister he’d met tonight. He thought of the sister most of all. She’d been quite unusual, and he couldn’t yet be certain if she’d be well-suited to the position of a governess.

  But there had certainly been something about her that he’d admired. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He mulled this over for a long time, picturing her face in his mind. The high flush in her cheeks, the light hazel hue of her eyes, the way she pursed her lips so tightly.

  When he’d first taken her by the hand and asked her to join him at his table, he’d done so because he’d thought her to be absolutely stunning. Henry didn’t often seek out the company of prostitutes. He preferred women he didn’t have to pay for. But when he’d seen her… it hadn’t mattered that he’d thought her a whore. He’d wanted her.

  Now that he knew the truth of her, that she was a lady who’d met misfortune, he wanted her even more. And Henry was accustomed to getting what he wanted.

  ***

  Miss Magdalene Riley, Daughter of the Baron of Brambleheath

  The morning brought with it even more uncertainty. She felt like they were walking into a labyrinth, without any sense of what was in store for them. And worst of all, they’d revealed their circumstances to someone who could so easily ruin their good reputation.

  Not that it mattered, as Joseph kept reminding her. If they didn’t take a chance on this man, they were out of options. And the world would soon know that they were penniless and debased, without the man they’d met having to tell anyone.

  They rose from their beds at dawn and met in the hallway. “What are you wearing?” Joseph asked, when he saw her, with a deep frown.

  Maggie looked down at herself. She’d chosen one of her best dresses. “Should we not look our best?” She asked, perplexed.

  “This isn’t a gathering among friends, Maggie. We’re going to get work, God willing. He’ll take one look at you and think you incapable of it. Women who work on the Radingley estate won’t dress like that.”

  Maggie ran her hands over the skirt of her dress. She didn’t want to change, but Joseph was right. She’d only thought to make a good impression, but she was wrong to think that she could be dressed as the equal of the man they were meeting. Once, they would have been equals. But she had to accept that that wasn’t true anymore.

  “I’ll change,” she murmured, turning back towards the staircase.

  “We don’t have time for that now,” Joseph snapped. “Come on. We can’t be late.”

  Joseph headed outside, where the carriage was waiting for them. He’d chosen to dress simply and, though he didn’t look like a common laborer, he didn’t look quite like himself either. Maggie joined him outside and got into the carriage.

  During the ride there, they were silent. She put her chin on her hand and stared at the window, watching the world pass them by. After a few minutes, she turned her face and looked at Joseph. “I still can’t understand why we must seek work from this strange man. I could seek work elsewhere and so could you. With someone less…”

  She didn’t know how to describe the man they’d met. But it didn’t matter, because Joseph wouldn’t heed her concerns. “Who is going to give us work, Maggie? We don’t have any experience. And our circumstances are rather unappealing, don’t you think? The only people who are going to want us working for them are lords and ladies with a taste for degradation. They’ll mock us, Maggie.”

  “And why should this gentleman be any different?” Maggie replied, with a measure of desperation in her voice. More than anything, she wished he’d just listen to her.

  “I told you. I have a feeling about him.”

  “A feeling.”

  “I won’t argue about it anymore.”

  “All this for a feeling?”

  “Maggie.”

  She knew by the way he said her name that his patience was at an end. Maggie leaned back in her seat and expelled a breath. It was too late to turn back now anyway. Through the window, she saw Radingley emerge through the passing trees.

  Maggie forgot her frustration in an instant when she saw that sight. Her lips parted and she leaned against the window, folding her arms over its ledge and resting her chin on top of them.

  Before all this mess, Maggie had spent most of her hours dreaming of estates. Brambleheath was gorgeous, of course, and she loved all the secret nooks of her home. It had given her a taste for architecture and design, which she’d satisfied by accompanying her mother to every tea party she could when she’d been a child.

  She’d sneak off why the adults were talking and get blissfully lost in the house. She’d spend hours, if she could, studying tapestries, paintings, looking for secret staircases.

  Some of the homes she’d visited had been quite fantastic. In one, she’d discovered a secret room hidden away in the study. The door had been part of the bookcase, which was floor to ceiling.

>   When she’d been taking the books off the shelf to look at them, she’d noticed a seam in the back of the bookcase. She’d pulled a book off the shelf above, to find that the seam continued. Intrigued, she’d continued removing books until she found what appeared to be a handle. And when she’d pulled, the wall had opened.

  The room on the other side was very small. There was a plush armchair, a rack of wine, a cabinet of whiskey and a hefty box of cigars. Maggie had wondered if the lady of the house even knew it existed.