Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Scarlett Hall Series
Free Book
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Epilogue
Author's Note
Regency Hearts Ebook
Cry of the Baroness
Secrets of Scarlett Hall
Book 9
Jennifer Monroe
Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Monroe
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Secrets of Scarlett Hall
Whispers of Light
Echoes of the Heart
Voices of Shadows Past
Silent Dreams
Songs of Yesterday
Vows of Honor
Ballad of the Innocents
Harmony of the Soul
Cry of the Baroness
Or buy them all HERE!
Would you like to receive a free ebook? Go to www.jennifermonroeromance.com and get yours today!
Chapter One
Lady Eleanor Lambert gripped the arms of the chair as she looked over the stoic faces of the men opposite her.
Three of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse, she thought. The fourth had called previously, named Debt, yet she had defeated him. She was uncertain if she could say the same for these others.
A letter had arrived only days before announcing the arrival of the youngest of the three — a man who claimed to be the rightful heir to the Lambert Estate.
This is nothing but a terrible dream!
Although her mind continued its frenzied thoughts, her face remained smooth. Or so she hoped. How many times in the past had she practiced calm when her life or the lives of her children were in turmoil? Too many.
Many years ago, before she and Charles had married, the former Baron Lambert had confessed a sin. While in a drunken stupor, he had inadvertently burned down a stable of a wealthy lord while traipsing through Scotland. To keep his peers from learning of his bumbling, and to keep his name free from shame, he and the lord had come to an agreement of sorts. Charles would send a monthly sum each month to cover the costs of replacing the stables and horses — and to tie the tongue of the lord.
That had been the tale Charles had told her when she had inquired about the particular payment, as he had placed her in charge of keeping the household finances, not an unusual request of the lady of the house. And like a fool, she had believed that particular tale.
And now, all these years later, she learned that there had been no stable – nor any lord, for that matter. Instead, there was a son. A son able to prove he was not born out of wedlock.
“I understand the laws in Scotland differ,” she said, her fingers aching from their tight grip, “but was there no man of the Church, a reverend or other equivalent, to oversee the proceedings?” Her question was merely grasping at straws, but desperation had a harsh hold over her.
Mr. Reynolds, a stout balding man, cleared his throat and gave her a long-suffering look. “A particular term is used in that part of the realm, ‘to be married over the anvil’. Although it dates back hundreds of years, that makes little difference in cases such as these. The truth is, Lord Charles Lambert, the man you have believed to be your husband, married one Miriam Thorne with the local cobbler and the innkeeper as witnesses. According to the custom, it is as binding as any ceremony performed in the Church before a clergyman. This, of course, was approved by the local townspeople, and I learned that Lord Lambert himself hosted a grand party to celebrate the nuptials.”
It was as if the man had driven a fist into her stomach, and she could not stop herself from covering her mouth with a hand. Not only had Charles lied, but what he had kept from her would have dire consequences for her and her children.
“I apologize for the news I bring,” Mr. Reynolds continued as he reached into his satchel and removed several pieces of parchment. “I have here witness statements in the dozens, including the innkeeper, a local charity to which Lord Lambert made a donation as a part of the celebration, as well as…”
“I will look at them later,” she managed to whisper. “What I must know now is what this all means for me and my family.”
This time Mr. Tompkins, a younger man of perhaps thirty, thin and dark-haired, replied, “We will file the necessary documentation with the courts upon our return to London. It is our wish that Isaac Thorne takes his rightful place as the eighth Baron Lambert.”
Eleanor glanced at the third man in attendance. The eldest son of the man she believed to be her husband all these years, whose cold dark eyes told of long-held anger, had added nothing to the conversation thus far. Every so often, the corner of his lip would curl, sending a shiver down her spine. His posture and evil bearing were so like his father, there was no doubt he was the offspring of Charles.
Eleanor had to keep herself from biting her lip and reveal her frustration. What was she to do? Although she had been the object of blackmail and outright lies in the past, she had no reason to doubt what these men had to say. Yet how could she allow her son to return home to learn this terrible truth?
“My son, Nathaniel, will be returning soon from his honeymoon. He knows nothing of this, of course. And my daughters…everything they have known will be taken away.” Her breath caught. Her children would be considered bastards born out of a false marriage that made Eleanor no better than a common harlot!
The weight of what she had learned upon the arrival of these men bore down on her. That combined with her illness made her want to collapse.
“You seem to be suffering,” Charles’s son said with a smirk. “How does it feel to learn that everything you thought you knew was false?”
Eleanor kept her eyes on the young man but remained silent. She owed him nothing. He was Charles’s burden, not hers.
She nearly laughed. All of her late husband’s burdens had been her own, and she had dealt with every one of them as they reared their ugly heads. The question now was, how would she deal with this nasty character?
“When I was six years of age,” Mr. Thorne continued, “a man who came to visit only once a year moved us into a small cottage in Northumberland. I had always thought it odd that he would offer me a handful of
coins so I could go into the village to purchase whatever my heart desired — and whatever the coins would get me.” He leaned forward, his smile malevolent. “Each time I returned home from my exploits, he would come walking out of my mother’s room fastening his breeches. And every time he left, Mother would spend the following weeks in her bed weeping, refusing to explain to me why.”
“I knew nothing about any of this,” Eleanor said. “Do you believe I would have approved of such behavior?”
Mr. Thorne snorted. “I do not care. My entire life I thought I was a bastard. Then, last year, my mother confessed to me on her deathbed that I was the son of a baron. Not the poor illegitimate child I had seen myself as, but a true heir to a dynasty. It was then that I understood how my mother could afford the best tutors on a servant’s salary and how we had more than any other family of our station.”
He stood and placed his hands on the desk, narrowing his eyes at Eleanor. There was no mistaking his lineage, for he looked so like Charles, not only in his features but also in the threatening manner he glared down at her.
For a moment, she wondered if he would insult or strike her. Thus far, despite his harsh words, he had kept his voice at a reasonable level. She doubted she could have done the same if she had been in his place.
“I am the true Baron Lambert,” he hissed. “I should have grown up here in this grand home of Scarlett Hall, not your bastard children!”
“Mr. Thorne,” Mr. Tompkins said as he placed a hand on Isaac’s arm, “please, this is difficult for everyone involved. This transition would be best completed with civility.”
Mr. Thorn glared at Eleanor a moment longer and then sighed. “You are right,” he replied as he retook his seat. “I am afraid my temper sometimes gets the better of me.” Oh, he was his father’s son, right down to how he managed his temper.
Eleanor waded through the despair that attempted to consume her and began to think, to plan. Allowing her emotions to cripple her now would only lead to her children’s demise.
“How long do you expect the courts to take before they make a decision?” she asked, pleased her voice exposed none of her agitation.
“Barring no unforeseen interference, we believe the matter will be settled in no more than six months. Would you not agree, Mr. Tompkins?” Mr. Reynolds glanced at his companion, who nodded his agreement. “We have advised Mr. Thorne that it is in everyone’s best interest to make this transition as peaceful and discreet as possible.”
Eleanor nodded. “I cannot agree with you more; however, it will not be easy. What do you propose?”
“Mr. Thorne will take up residence nearby,” the solicitor replied. “In the interest of all involved, we request that he be allowed to call several times a week to learn the particulars of the businesses and anything else that will be required of him once the transition is finalized. I realize that this seems a great undertaking for one in your position, but Mr. Thorne has given his word that if you agree to these terms, he will not speak of what transpired to anyone and therefore maintain your children’s good names.”
Eleanor stood and walked over to the window that overlooked the garden. How many times had she gazed out there in search of a solution? Too many to count, she was certain. However, as her eyes fell on the tree under which her children had once played, the very tree under which Nathaniel and Harmony spoke their vows not a week earlier, a memory of long ago came to mind.
“The strength is inside you,” her father had said. “Allow it to guide you.”
“You have said this before, Father,” Eleanor replied. “But what if I face the most terrible evil? Even I cannot best that!”
Her father dropped to one knee, the loving look on his face a memory she would cherish always. “Your heart, soul, and mind are stronger than any steel. Even when confronted with the evilest creatures, you must utilize all three. One thing you must remember is to never be afraid. Draw your enemies closer if you must, but never fear them, or you shall never see victory.”
“Whyever would I want them near me?” Eleanor had asked, gaping.
“It is then you will come to understand them better. Much like any battle one might encounter, you must learn the strengths and weaknesses of your enemies. Once you know what drives them, you will be able to devise a way to defeat them. It will never be an easy task, but you have what it takes inside you to see success in all things.”
Eleanor shook the memory from her mind. She now had the beginning of a plan, and that was better than no plan at all.
“My lady,” Mr. Reynolds said, “what is your response?”
She turned to face the three men, although her eyes remained on Mr. Thorne. Her next words would determine the fate of her children and their heritage. There was only one way to save them.
“Although the news you have brought me is unsettling, I cannot deny that the true heir sits before me.”
The smirk Mr. Thorne had been wearing was replaced by shock. Yes, ensnare him, that was how she would beat him.
“For that reason, and because of his good intentions, I make another proposal that I believe will be much more beneficial.” Now his face showed suspicion. She hoped to quell that quickly.
“And what would that be?” Mr. Reynolds asked.
“Isaac…you do not mind if I call you Isaac, do you?” The young man shook his head, and she continued. “Isaac will remain here at Scarlett Hall. How better to learn the inner workings of the household and all the Lambert inheritance has to offer than to live within it? I will see that he learns all he needs to know, teach him all its history, and see he learns all about the businesses he will come to control.” She forced a smile. “If anyone asks about your presence, I kindly ask that you say you are a cousin of my late husband, at least until everything is finalized. Do you accept?”
And like his father, Isaac’s arrogant smile widened. Eleanor had dealt with her husband’s temperaments and had been victorious by the end. She had no doubt she could do the same with this boy.
“Your offer is kind,” Isaac said as he stood, the solicitors following suit. “I readily accept and will return tomorrow with my belongings.”
Once the trio was gone, Eleanor returned to the window. Her chest hurt and she struggled to breathe, a result of her illness. Hiding her discomfort had taken its toll on her, but it had been necessary. If Isaac learned how ill she truly was, he would take advantage of her, and she refused to allow that to happen.
How will I best that boy? she asked herself. Well, she would find a way.
As Forbes, her trusted butler and closest confidant, came to stand beside her, she knew this was one battle she would be unable to fight alone.
Chapter Two
The carriage seemed to find every hole in the road as it ambled along. Each time the wheel hit a crevice, Lady Harmony Lambert was thrown into her husband’s arms once more, and she could not help but burst into another fit of laughter.
For three days they had ridden thus, returning to Scarlett Hall after a wonderful month in Cornwall. Murkside Manor had provided them with memories that would last forever, and she would miss their time there. However, she could not wait to begin their new life together in a home grander than anyplace she could have ever imagined.
“I do not see how the lobbing of the carriage is so humorous,” Nathaniel growled just as the carriage lurched once more, causing him to be thrown against the carriage wall with a resounding thump.
Tears of happiness rolled down Harmony’s cheeks. She tried to form words but found she could not.
Her husband frowned. “Is it my bruised shoulder that causes you to laugh so?” His cheeks were a bright red, and Harmony found him adorable.
Doing her best to compose herself, she drew in a deep breath. “It is not the holes the carriage strikes,” she said, bracing herself as the vehicle lurched once more, “but rather the reason for it.”
Nathaniel shook his head. “My wife has gone mad!” he teased, showing that he was not as annoyed as he pr
etended to be. “Tell me this great mystery that causes you to act so foolishly before I toss you out on your bottom.” He laughed despite his harsh words.
Harmony sighed. This man was the love of her life, and it was moments such as this that no wealth could purchase. “It is Lydia,” she replied, speaking of her lady’s maid. “I can only imagine poor David is doing his best to keep his eyes on the road, but with her beside him, he must become quite distracted and thus sending the horses and carriage every which way but straight.”
Nathaniel chuckled. “I found it odd when she spoke of the excitement of riding up front with the driver,” he said. “I did not understand her reasoning, but now I do.”
As soon as the words left his lips, the carriage shook violently, casting Harmony into Nathaniel’s lap.
“Did she kiss him, do you think?” Nathaniel asked as he looked down at Harmony. “That could be the only explanation for such a jolt.”
Harmony’s sides began to ache as she laughed all the harder, and when her husband wrapped his arms around her, she leaned against his chest. “What are we to do about it?” she asked.
“Concerning our safety or Lydia?”
She wiped tears from her eyes. “Both, I suppose,” she replied. “Either will cause us to age before our time if they continue.”
“You may be right,” Nathaniel said. “David did warn me about the roads today. It seems these early summer storms can be just as damaging as those of winter.”
Harmony gave a thoughtful sigh. Lydia was not only her lady’s maid but her best friend, as well, and Harmony could not imagine what life would be like without her. “I think it is wonderful how they look at one another. Do you not agree?”
He smiled down at her. “I do. Although the man is nearly ten years her elder, I do find them an interesting pair.”
“Interesting?” Harmony asked. “How so?”
Nathaniel pursed his lips. “I am not certain. He is so quiet, but Lydia is more like you.”
She sat up straight and glared at him. “And how am I? And I must warn you, Lord Lambert, you may be a baron, but my anger can be quite cruel, so you should choose your next words carefully.”
Cry of the Baroness: Secrets of Scarlett Hall Book 9 Page 1