Embracing The Earl's Dream: A Clean Regency Romance (Resolved In Love Book 4)

by Penny Fairbanks

  The longer Solomon watched, the more he became concerned. Henry walked slowly around the room, his eyes gliding over the shelves, a very concentrated expression making his naturally stoic face look quite severe.

  A sudden twinge in Solomon’s spine caused him to sit up straighter in his chair. He did not like that look. It usually meant that Henry was in deep thought and trying to figure out how best he should express said thoughts. Having known Henry since they were schoolboys, Solomon knew that he would not like whatever his friend had to say.

  “You know, you should consider yourself lucky that Cecilia puts up with your brooding silences,” Solomon teased, trying to ease the tense lines in Henry’s face and body.

  Unfortunately, this seemed to have the opposite effect much to Solomon’s dismay. His remark had caused Henry to snap out of his reverie and focus his attention sharply on Solomon. Henry walked over, still slow and thoughtful, but now with a determined set to his jaw.

  Solomon bit his lip, silently cursing himself. He should not have brought up Henry’s wife, who also happened to be Juliet’s sister. The connection was too close and he’d already had a sickening feeling that this was precisely the topic on Henry’s mind.

  Indeed, Henry took the seat across from Solomon, staring at him with that same unnerving concentration. Solomon swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and the fireplace suddenly feeling far too hot, beads of sweat popping up on his neck.

  “Spit it out already, man,” Solomon finally muttered through gritted teeth when Henry made no effort to speak.

  “As a matter of fact, Cecilia both accepts my tendency toward introversion and encourages me to speak up and enjoy life outside of my library and my writing.” Henry’s deep voice remained low, but somehow it echoed through the room, off the walls upon walls of books surrounding them.

  “And I declare she has the patience of a saint.” Solomon’s lips pursed together, trying to prevent himself from saying anything else unkind.

  He was being unnecessarily mean because of his own discomfort. Henry certainly did not deserve that, especially since he’d been on Solomon’s side since the day they’d met in their dorm at their school—through his father’s death, through his heartbreak when Miss Woolmer had announced her engagement to a duke just a few days after Solomon had made his intentions to marry her clear, through his heartbreak when Miss Richards had abandoned him without explanation, and now through the loss of his brother and sister-in-law.

  Even when Henry had his own struggles to deal with, from losing both parents just a year apart to maintaining his hidden identity as a beloved anonymous novelist to his near break with Cecilia, Henry had always made time to be there for Solomon. Henry might be a far wiser man than Solomon, but even Solomon could tell that this conversation was trending toward a certain direction. He knew he would do well to listen, even if it made him uncomfortable.

  “Cecilia is a saint,” Henry agreed with a loving smile. “With Cecilia in my life, and now our son, I find that I do not mind being out and about as much as I used to. Having someone so special in my life accept me for who I am yet challenge me to grow is the best thing I have ever experienced.”

  Solomon sighed and tugged at the cuffs of his coat to escape the intensity of Henry’s gaze, to escape the truth in his words. “And you hope that I will find the same thing someday?”

  “Yes, I do indeed hope you will find it...or rediscover it.” Henry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He would not allow Solomon to get too far away.

  Solomon shook his head, sensing his defeat coming. Besides Ambrose, Henry knew Solomon better than anyone in the world and now, with Ambrose gone, Henry alone held that title. Of course Henry knew what—or rather who—had occupied the majority of Solomon’s thoughts during these past two weeks. There could be no escaping it now.

  “Yes, Henry, I know exactly who you mean,” Solomon huffed, feeling like a child who’d been cornered and must confess his misdeeds.

  Henry nearly smiled, but, instead, tilted his head to the side, his deep brown eyes narrowing as if in thought. “And who might that be?”

  Solomon could only chuckle at Henry’s new tactic of playing ignorant. “Miss Richards, obviously...Juliet.”

  As soon as he said her name, Solomon felt as though he must have made a mistake. He’d missed saying her name so badly. He’d missed how it felt and sounded as it passed his lips. Ever since that first day, he’d only called her Miss Richards as any proper employer would do.

  Now Henry chuckled as he leaned back into his chair. “So our roles have reversed. It is my turn to pry information out of you when normally you cannot be quiet about anything.”

  Solomon rolled his eyes, not caring that such behavior was very ungentlemanly. He and Henry did not abide by Society’s strictures when in private. Of course, Solomon was not truly annoyed, but he did not find himself terribly excited to talk about this, even if he knew Henry had the best intentions. Then again, he hadn’t been very excited about anything of late.

  “I need to protect myself. You know that. My life has been too full of pain already. I cannot bear to be hurt again...especially by women who either only want my title or cannot commit for whatever mysterious reasons they may have.” Solomon bit his lip. There, he’d finally said it aloud.

  Henry grew solemn and silent. He had always been on the quiet side, but, in this moment, it felt almost as though Henry’s silence absorbed all the sound in the room. It nearly deafened Solomon.

  “I truly am sorry for your losses, my friend.” When Solomon looked up, he saw sympathetic pain in Henry’s eyes, in the sharp downturn of his mouth. Henry had known Ambrose and even Florence well throughout the course of their long friendship.

  “But I want to remind you,” Henry continued, “that one never knows what may happen in life. Life is full of both tragedy and joy, if one will allow it in.”

  Solomon looked away and gave a limp shrug. “Perhaps it is not so simple for me. Perhaps I am too full of tragedy now to have any room left for joy.” Henry opened his mouth to protest, but Solomon quickly continued. “I admit that I cannot stop myself from enjoying having her nearby, but I cannot simply erase what happened between us in the past.

  “Besides, I was taken advantage of once before in my grief after my father died. That sly Miss Woolmer allowed me to court her, made me believe she cared for me as much as I cared for her. All she truly wanted was to become Lady Overton. She threw me aside without so much as the courtesy to tell me herself. Heavens, do you remember the day I saw the announcement in the newspaper, that she was engaged to that duke? I had never felt more blindsided and betrayed in my life.

  “Miss Richards has abandoned me once before, when I thought everything between us was all but settled. I wanted to marry her, Henry. I loved her,” Solomon pleaded, hating the desperate tone in his voice. “But now I am in mourning again and I do not want my vulnerable feelings to trick me into another situation that will only compound my pain.”

  Henry exhaled and remained silent for a moment, contemplating Solomon’s words. Solomon fidgeted with his coat cuffs again. He wished Henry would just say whatever advice he wanted to impart so they could be done with it already.

  “Solomon, you won’t ever know if you can have joy in your life again unless you try. I know Juliet is not at all like the lady once known as Miss Woolmer. And may I remind you that I never did like her?” Henry scoffed.

  “Yes, you told me as much many times back then,” Solomon groaned. “Move along to your point please, Henry. I cannot stand much more of this topic.”

  Henry nodded his understanding, leaning forward again. “Then here is my point. I’ve seen the way Juliet looks at you. I believe she wants to help you find your joy again.”

  Solomon’s heart lurched in his chest, aching for Henry’s words to be true. Just a moment ago he’d wanted to rush past whatever Henry had wanted to say, but now something inside him clung to those words.

  He had seen more of
Miss Richards in the past two weeks since he had given her some time off each day to spend with the guests. And every time she came near, Solomon’s soul felt a little lighter.

  Yet every time, those hopeful flutters rushing through Solomon’s chest quickly sank into fear. Once the Neils and the Davies left, everything would return to the way they had been—distant and heavy with shadows of the past dimming their every interaction.

  Solomon did not know how he could bridge that gap, even if he wanted to.

  “Well, I should be off to bed since we leave in the morning,” Henry announced as he got to his feet.

  Solomon stood as well, his eyes going wide as Henry pulled him in for a tight hug. Instinctively, Solomon returned the gesture. He allowed himself to get lost in the comfort and strength of it. Henry maintained his grip on Solomon’s shoulders when they came apart from their hug. He looked very serious, even more so than usual, which was quite a feat for Henry. Solomon knew his friend had one more bit of wisdom to share with him.

  “If there’s something I’ve learned from my own situation, it is that love is worth fighting for.” Henry nodded resolutely, a small but confident smile on his lips.

  Long after Henry left the library, those last words still swam through Solomon’s mind even when he finally got himself to bed. All night, Solomon dreamed of those words and the hazy possibilities they implied.

  Solomon, Henry, Cecilia, Violet, and Owen had gathered in the foyer early the next morning to say their goodbyes. The carriages already awaited them with their luggage carefully packed and horses pawing at the ground, eager to be off. But they still needed one more to join their party before they could leave.

  Cecilia peeked over Henry’s shoulder every few seconds, her eyes casting about for any sign of her sister. Henry meanwhile seemed quite deep in thought, perhaps constructing a new plot for his next story. Owen seemed just as fidgety as the horses outside while Violet gently stroked his arm, soothing her energetic husband. Solomon bit his lip, hoping that Juliet would arrive soon. His guests had a long journey ahead of them, children to return to, and winter weather to escape. Luckily the day seemed promising, bright and lovely without a threatening cloud in the sky.

  Just as Solomon opened his mouth to let the others know he would go in search of Miss Richards, they heard a clatter of footsteps at the top of the stairs. Everyone turned to look. There Juliet stood, her chest heaving up and down. She’d paused with a hand on the banister, catching her breath.

  Beautiful was the only word that came to Solomon’s mind. He stood frozen, stunned at the sight of her. Even in her simple gray dress, she looked so perfect. A few strands of light blonde hair had tumbled out of their knot, gently framing her round face, rosy cheeks flushed even deeper from her mad dash through the house.

  Miss Richards smiled down at them, a silent thanks for waiting so patiently. As she made her descent, Solomon stared, his eyes going from her doll-like face to her dainty but graceful hand sliding down the smooth railing to the lively way she nearly bounced down the steps.

  Suddenly Solomon’s mind transported him back to London, to all those times he had waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, watching her come down in her lovely afternoon dresses before they went off on an adventure or her elegant evening gowns before he escorted her to a ball.

  “I’m terribly sorry for taking so long.” She inhaled and exhaled deeply, still gathering herself. Her voice broke Solomon’s trance and he returned to the present moment, remembering why they had all gathered.

  Without further ado, the ladies nearly leapt into each other’s arms, a smattering of sniffles echoing through the foyer. As they expressed their joy at having been able to visit and made promises to write even more frequently, the men made their own farewells.

  Henry gave Solomon another earnest hug. When he pulled back, he fixed Solomon with a very pointed look. It reminded Solomon of their conversation last night, though Henry did not say anything too dangerous.

  “Thank you for having us, my dear man,” Henry said quietly. “Remember, I am always just a letter away should you need me.” The baron smiled, his normally rigid features softening until Solomon could almost see the boy he’d grown up beside juxtaposed over the man’s face. They’d made similar promises to each other in the past and Solomon thanked God that he had such a genuine, lifelong friend in Henry.

  “And the same stands true for you, Henry. You’ve been such a help to me,” Solomon mumbled, feeling an unexpected lump rise in his throat. He had been more emotional these days, still coming to terms with his grief among other things, so he did not fault himself for the sadness he now felt at parting from his dearest friend.

  “Until next time, Solomon.” Owen offered his hug next, firm and muscular. “Perhaps when we visit next we can go for a long ride about the grounds or perhaps do some fishing.”

  Solomon smiled. As much as he appreciated Henry, Solomon enjoyed having a friend who craved activity even more than he did. “Of course, Owen. I will be sure to write the moment the pond thaws.”

  Solomon said goodbye to the ladies as well, hugging Cecilia and Violet in turn. He almost expected Cecilia to give some pointed remark about her sister, but she did not, instead thanking Solomon for inviting them and wishing him all the best. As always, her smile contained kindness and understanding. Solomon’s heart swelled with warmth.

  All too soon, the door closed behind the two couples. Miss Richards stood beside Solomon, several feet between them, as they watched their loved ones settle into their carriage and start down the path from the foyer’s large front windows.

  Solomon heard the gentle swish of skirts and turned to see Miss Richards facing him. “Thank you for inviting them,” she said, a hint of sadness in her voice, but mostly appreciation and contentment. “Of course, they are your friends so naturally you would invite them. I am grateful all the same,” she added hastily.

  And then she smiled, so sweetly that Solomon thought he saw a spark of something surprising in her eyes—perhaps something like love. “In any case, the visit greatly renewed my spirits.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Solomon nodded, clearing his throat. Miss Richards took a step back, putting more distance between them.

  Solomon silently cursed himself. He knew he’d sounded colder than he’d meant, but he still felt so strange and unsure of how to express himself. How could he, when he did not really understand what he truly felt or what he should do about it all?

  “I must get back to Pearl. I left her with Lady Overton in her sitting room and I promised her we would work on her drawing as soon as I finished. She’s quite eager to get to it,” she announced with a small nod.

  “Is my mother joining you?” Solomon’s brows shot up in surprise and curiosity.

  “As a matter of fact, she is.” Juliet beamed, her perfect teeth dazzling against her pale skin. “I often invite her to participate in some of Pearl’s activities. Sometimes she can’t or doesn’t wish to, but lately she’s been accepting more often.”

  Solomon let out a relieved huff, a smile slowly spreading over his face. His heart soared as he thought of Mother returning to normal life slowly but surely. Clearly, he had Miss Richards to thank for some of her progress. Not only did the governess care for Pearl, but she went above and beyond her typical duties by caring for his dear mother as well.

  Miss Richards excused herself once more, a serene and thoughtful expression on her face. Solomon followed behind shortly, though he took a detour in the drawing room as a sudden urge took hold of him. He nearly ran to the window, just in time to catch a glimpse of the carriage bearing his friends disappearing into the tunnel of trees that shaded the main path to and from his home.

  The longer he stared out the window the heavier his heart grew, sinking a bit further until it sat in the lowest point of his stomach. He’d been very glad to have his friends stay for a while, though he had primarily invited them in the hopes that a visit would cheer up Miss Richards. He was glad of i
t, but now that they were gone he felt sadder than he’d anticipated.

  “Ah, here it is!” A familiar, sweet voice chirped behind him.

  Solomon turned to see Miss Richards staring at him in surprise, clutching her sketchbook to her chest.

  “I-I didn’t mean to disturb you, my lord. I must have forgotten my sketchbook yesterday when Cecilia and I had tea in here,” she explained, stumbling over her words.

  “There is nothing to worry about,” he assured her. “I hope you all have an enjoyable drawing lesson.” Solomon thought back to Miss Richards’ drawings. He’d always enjoyed them, especially that portrait of him that she’d sketched once. It was rough and quick, but a good likeness. He wondered what her drawings looked like now, what subjects inspired her.

  He turned back to the window, unable to shake his sadness. Still, that did not mean Miss Richards should see it.

  After a moment, he heard soft footsteps on the rug. Suddenly that voice he’d loved sounded nearly too close when she asked, “Are you well, Lord Overton?”

  Solomon did not answer right away, could not bear the thought of giving voice to his fragile feelings yet because, as she approached, the truth dawned on him. Miss Richards came up next to him but still he remained silent.

  “Solomon?” she asked hesitantly.

  He hadn’t heard her voice say his name in years though he’d replayed it in his head often enough. It sounded even better than he remembered.

  “We haven’t had any guests stay in the house since my brother’s passing,” he began slowly, quietly. Somehow, he felt at liberty to speak now without fear of the turmoil rippling through his chest. “Seeing Henry and the others drive off in their carriage reminded me of the last time I saw my brother drive away from the house in his carriage. They had been so happy and healthy and full of life. We’d had no idea what lay just around the corner. It was the last time I saw him before he and his wife became sick. I’d wanted to go to them as soon as he told us about their illness, but he insisted I stay away lest I fall ill, too. Perhaps I should have gone anyway. I only saw him at the very end when his doctor wrote to inform us that they hadn’t much time left.”