by Kai Butler
The Earl and the Executive
An Imperial Space Regency Novel
Kai Butler
Copyright © 2020 by Kai Butler
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover by Dar Albert at Wicked Smart Designs.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Kai Butler
www.kaibutler.com
First Printing: April 2020
This book would not exist without the love and support of so many.
Keli, who loved the book when it was still a thought and helped me see where it needed to be fixed.
Ellen, for the long conversations, friendship, and pointed edits.
Rajani, whose tireless work turned it from a draft into a novel.
And Josh, my rock in all storms.
Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Prologue
The library at the Oican Estate on Gret had always given children the impression that its books were merely secondary to its main purpose: somewhere to hide from unwanted relatives, visitors, and tutors. Its massive shelves were proudly filled with thick tomes that had spines carefully tooled with gold or silver. After years spent hiding in the stacks, Tiral Oican, the new Earl of Gret, had yet to find a single volume that had been written after his grandfather had been born.
Unlike when he used to press himself into the smallest corners or into empty spaces on shelves, Tiral found himself both too big and too responsible to hide properly; all he would permit himself to do was sit in one of the cluster of chairs facing the empty fireplace instead of the door, so that a glance might miss him. Any of the mourners downstairs would only assume him lost in grief over his brother’s death and close the library door, leaving him to his solitary sorrow. With the cold hearth, dim lights, and the floor-to-ceiling shelves cast partially in shadow, the entire room was, Tiral could admit, as dramatic as an earl’s chief mourner’s setting should be.
The reality, which he was hesitant to acknowledge even to himself, was that he was mostly mourning the loss of his own life, rather than his predecessor’s. The previous Earl of Gret — his brother, Lecc — had been notable mostly for the fact that he was such a paragon of nobility. Tall, muscular, and tanned, with an easy white smile that informed everyone in his vicinity that he had both a genial humor and the sort of comportment that an earl should have.
He had gone to the best boarding schools on the best planets and counted among his intimates the Empress’s own grandson. Lecc had been the sort of person that, upon meeting, one assumed must be an earl or duke of some remote estate.
Tiral understood that when people looked at him, they assumed that he must be what he had been, up until his brother’s untimely death: a man whose hours were devoted to concentrated work instead of sweet leisure. He must be an engineer or a professor, or that he had some other vocation which required him to spend more time at work than on more pleasurable pursuits.
Now, that mostly happy life he’d carved out for himself as the young head of Somnu University’s Aeromech Department was effectively over. A second child could, of course, be in trade. For a third child, it was even expected. But the Earl of Gret couldn’t dabble in, much less actually practice, a real profession. Slouching farther down in his chair, Tiral tried to imagine the next ten, fifteen, or twenty years of his life and realized that his new title felt more like a prison sentence than an inheritance.
When the door to the library opened, he tried his best to look properly mournful, but let the pose slip when he saw it was only his sister. Edah was in full mourning attire, appropriate for the occasion, and the austere color and high neckline made her look even younger than usual.
“My lord,” she greeted, a dry tone making her words into a tease.
Tiral groaned and thumped his head back against the chair. The greeting was, he knew, to be expected now, but he could not help but feel as though the honorific still belonged to his father and brother. Most of his colleagues at the university didn’t even know he was a peer, and those that did didn’t stand on formality with him.
“The title is unnecessary,” he said, turning his head to get a good look at her. “We’re both aware of the fix I’m in.”
“And what fix is that, Lord Gret?” Edah asked, moving to take a seat at the armchair next to his. She straightened her skirt and glanced over, mouth pulled down in mock seriousness. “That which now has you as lord of our rustic estate? Or the fact that now some other, lesser professor will be instructing your precious undergraduates?”
“Edah,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Is it so terrible not to be mourning him?”
He looked around and felt awful again. He and his brother had never been close, but family ties ought to be stronger than this, surely? Lecc had been an only child for nearly eight years before Tiral had been born, and then had been at school on a glamorous world when Tiral and Edah had most longed for an elder sibling to help them make entertainment in country living. When he did return home for holidays or winter celebrations, Lecc usually did so with a friend or two from school and spent no time with his younger siblings.
The result was that both Tiral and Edah had viewed Lecc less as a person and more as a foreign god who occasionally graced them with a visit. It hadn’t helped that since birth, it had been made clear by their parents that he would be the perfect one to carry on their family’s legacy while the younger two Oicans had been found quite wanting in that corner.
The fact that Lecc had died in a flyer accident only gave him more foreign glamor. The idea was odd enough that for a few moments after receiving the news, Tiral had wondered if it had all been a poor joke.
“Well,” Edah temporized. “I wouldn’t say terrible. Perhaps unkind? No, that’s ungenerous of me. I feel that you’re mourning appropriately in your own way.”
“I just can’t sit there and listen to every tenant and acquaintance tell me what a great lord he was when I know they’re all comparing me to him,” he said unhappily.
“I understand, my dear. But that’s how the world works when one is deceased. They forget all of his failings and simply remember that, well, he looked the part of a proper earl.” She was examining her fingernails as she spoke, and he almost missed the hint of guilt in her eyes.
“Looked the part?” He watched her raise her eyebrows. “You wrote to me that the farms had increased their productivity twofold. That the estate was profitable enough that much could be reinvested!”
“Oh, yes,” she exclaimed passionately. “It very much has, brother. The new techniques and the new strains of crops! You have no idea how much better returns we’ve been seeing.”
> Her face became animated, and when she saw his questioning look, she continued. “It’s just that, well, I’m not sure that Lecc knew exactly about the changes.”
Glancing at her suspiciously, he noticed that she was studying her fingernails again. “If he implemented them, I’m sure he knew about them.”
“You know Lecc,” she said. “He was always more about the… financial side rather than the actual day-to-day operations. I don’t even think he studied any agriculture at college.”
“Ah,” Tiral said, his suspicions coalescing into a theory. “So you must have learned about the changes from the estate manager.”
“Yes!” she agreed quickly. Then Edah paused, looking at him with narrowed eyes. Lecc had been, as most in their class were, extremely distant in his knowledge of his land, with the only focus being on whether whatever money coming in was enough to cover his rather expensive tastes. On the other hand, she would have to know that Tiral was quite the opposite. An engineer by nature, he would obviously be a more engaged lord than Lecc ever would have been.
“That is, some changes may have been made at my suggestion. Only slight ones, newer ideas from university.” Edah’s smile was sweet, as though to prove her innocence.
“And I assume that Lecc was fully aware of your involvement in the farm, even though his views on peers working was so clear,” Tiral said. His words hung between them as they both knew how poorly Lecc had received the news when Tiral took up his profession.
“Ah, well.” She gave her brother a guileless smile. “How am I to say what Lecc knew or didn’t know? He was away so often.”
Tiral hummed in understanding. “Might you in fact say that our brother knew nothing of how you completely took over management of the estate?”
Edah looked at him guiltily and he couldn’t help the amused laugh that broke out. Even as a child, his sister had been more headstrong than obedient. Ideal for a country rustic but not as much for a lady of good breeding and family.
Whatever fib she was about to come up with to cover her transgression was interrupted by someone opening the library door. The man at the door was tall, taller than either Tiral or Edah, and had the fair skin of Central, in contrast to their darker Gretan complexion. His hair had turned white early in life, which left neither of them truly able to determine his age. Renn had worked as their man of affairs for as long as Tiral remembered, and his capability was only exceeded by the seriousness with which he took his vocation.
“My lord,” Renn intoned, formally. He bowed, low enough to honor Tiral’s new position. Upon hearing the greeting, Tiral felt sick again and turned back to his study of the cold and empty fireplace. Beside him, he saw Edah shrink as though to avoid any awkwardness.
“Please, Renn, you don’t need the formality. We know each other well,” Tiral said.
Clearing his throat, Renn nodded in acceptance and took the chair on the other side of Tiral. Renn turned, the leather so soft it made no sound as he moved to face Tiral.
“I’m afraid there are matters we must discuss,” Renn said.
“Today?” Tiral asked. He had hoped for a few days to get his own affairs in order, speak with the university about who would take his classes, and advise his graduate students.
“The matter is quite pressing,” Renn said. He looked down at the tablet in his hands. “Perhaps the Lady Edah could visit with you afterward?”
“No,” Tiral said, his mouth quirking. “If it’s about the estate, I imagine her interest and knowledge somewhat exceed my own.”
“As you wish, my lord,” Renn conceded with a sigh.
Silence settled over the room and Tiral immediately wished to be the sort of person who could outwait Renn as effectively as he did his undergraduates. However, with Renn it was a decidedly different matter. Although Tiral understood that Renn worked for him now, he still felt like a ten-year-old boy in the man’s presence.
“What is it, Renn?” Tiral said, breaking the silence.
“The estate is completely mortgaged,” Renn said. “And if nothing is done, we will run out of savings with which to repay the banks, at which time the estate will be absolutely bankrupt.”
“What?” Tiral asked. His whole body felt slack, and he frowned as Renn passed him the tablet so he could scan the financial accounts and documented loans for himself. Beside him, he saw Edah bring her hand to her mouth, her face pale as bone.
“We’re … up to the hilt, as they say,” Renn said. He rested his clasped hands upon his knees and waited for Tiral to look up.
“I’m poorer now than I was as a professor,” Tiral snorted. “And so ends the Oican legacy.”
He leaned back, still staring at the numbers on the tablet as though a more thorough examination would make any difference. Gret was no great holding, consisting of only two habitable planets, two uninhabitable, a handful of moons, and an asteroid belt that provided some beauty and little income. According to the documents, Lecc had mortgaged everything, and for a fair amount more than it was worth.
Brushing his hair off of his forehead, Tiral let his eyes close for a moment before opening them to stare at Renn.
“What can be done?” he inquired.
“Your brother claimed he had a solution, but I was not aware of the particulars,” Renn said.
“But … why are we mortgaged at all?” Edah asked finally, her voice a ragged whisper. “The estate has been paid off for some time. The farms are more profitable than ever.”
“Your brother took out some loans while you were at college,” Renn said.
“But this is more than a few loans,” Tiral protested. “This is all of the estate. How did a bank even agree to this?”
“That I couldn’t say,” Renn said. “The mortgage is recent, and I only discovered the full extent of the amount after his death.”
“Well, call the bank, ask if we can get a longer term, or even a second loan,” Tiral instructed; that much was common sense. He tapped his fingers against the tablet, thinking. “What happens if we cannot make the payments?”
“The estate will be foreclosed on by the bank,” Renn said. He looked uncomfortable. “We could attempt to sell the estate before we reach that juncture.”
“Well,” Tiral said. “I suppose what must be done…”
He couldn’t think of anything else to say. The idea that so early into his inheritance he’d lose the estate completely shocked him. At least he would still have the title, even if it meant nothing without the planets, moons, and star to go with it. His father would have been ashamed, but the idea gave him slight relief. He would have never been able to live up to Lecc anyway, and now he wouldn’t have to.
“If the estate is foreclosed on, it will likely be sold to one of the megacorps that want the land. All of the tenants will be removed. If we manage to sell it to another noble house, they might only split the land to be given to younger children so that they might have separate inheritances.” Renn was staring at Tiral as he spoke and his tone made clear that neither of these options was an acceptable solution.
“No,” Edah broke in before biting her lips into silence. Tiral glanced at her and her hands were gripped tightly together in her lap, her eyes pleading with him.
“But the families have been tenants for generations,” Tiral said, frowning. He now saw the problem. “We cannot do that to them.”
“I agree,” Renn said.
“I imagine from your tone that you have a solution,” Tiral said. “And, I’ll venture, it’s one that I’ll dislike more than the idea of failing my father’s memory.”
“Marriage,” Renn pronounced. “Soon.”
“For which of us?” Tiral said, glancing over at Edah.
“Unfortunately, Lady Edah will present a poor enticement as she now has no dowry, though she is currently your heir to the title. However, you, my lord, carry the title now,” Renn stated, waiting for Tiral to see the facts.
“And someone might be willing to infuse us with the necessary money t
o pay off the loan if they acquired the title through marriage,” Tiral said.
“Yes,” Renn agreed. “It is not uncommon for estates in need of financial solvency to seek it this way.”
Tiral leaned back, feeling the soft leather against his head. He didn’t even know what kind of leather it was. His mother would know; she was always far more interested in the domestic realm than his father had been. The servants would probably know, as they had to clean the chairs and couldn’t use a cleanser that would bleach the leather or make it brittle. Even Renn might know, since he could likely tell them how much the chair had originally cost and how much it would be to replace it.
Tiral found he did not fit. His place was not yet secure and, if he could not resolve their money woes soon, there would not be a house for him to fit into. The whole system of planets that constituted the Gret Estate would belong to the bank to be sold off to a corporation or a lord who had more children than unentailed estates.
Unsure which was worse, Tiral looked over at his sister, who was still staring down at her hands, clenched white on her black mourning dress. Edah looked up when she felt his gaze and gave him a half shrug.
“Well, now you have no need to fob your students off on some lesser teacher. Perhaps Mother and I will be able to join you on Somnu. You said your tenure came with a small house.” Her words were teasing, but her tone was strained as she tried a smile that looked more like a grimace.
“Ever since I heard of Lecc’s death, I knew my life, and my marriage, wouldn’t be my own. This just means that I am bringing debt rather than mere indifference to the suit,” Tiral said. He did some math in his head. “Luckily the season has not yet begun. I have time to get to Lus.”