The Earl’s Wicked Seduction (Historical Regency Romance)

by Ella Edon

  Walking across the street, Grace looked straight ahead as she moved around the horses and carriages lining up to leave their passengers at the Inn. She again wore her dancing slippers, but this time was not so concerned about keeping them pristine as she picked her way across the cobblestones.

  Finally, she reached the wooden walkway on the other side. It was very crowded with those waiting for friends and companions to arrive – most of whom were young women – since they always wished to walk inside together. Grace carefully slid past them and managed to work her way down to the door to the Robbins Inn, which sat halfway down the eastern side of the street.

  She had nearly reached the door, when from the street, there came cries of "Make way! Make way! You, there, move that carriage. Make way for the earl!"

  Grace stopped, for the way forward was blocked by a sudden row of people – mostly young women – who had formed a line from the Inn to the street on both sides of the door, as though the king himself was coming to the ball.

  But it was not the king.

  Pushing up to the line as close as she could, Grace looked out to the street and saw the shining black landau carriage that she knew belonged to the earl. Hooked to the front was the same beautiful team of black Norfolk Trotters – Starling and Raven, she remembered. And inside the fine carriage . . .

  Sitting in the back were Mr. Clarke, the master of Feathering Park, and his wife, the pretty little blonde named Beatrice. He stepped out first and made a great show of helping Mrs. Clarke down from the carriage. The jewels at her throat and in her hair glittered in the torchlight from the street.

  The Clarkes passed between the two lines and moved towards the doors. Beatrice seemed thrilled by all the attention turned her way and probably would have stopped to hear praise and greetings from every person in line if her husband had not taken her in hand and made her walk inside.

  Then another man stepped down from the carriage, and he was entirely alone.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Earl Finally Arrives At The Ball

  Tall, broad-shouldered, and solemn, Thomas, Lord Worthington stood beside his landau and looked carefully at the crowd lined up on the walkway. He was impeccably dressed in a dark green coat, snowy white shirt, cream-colored trousers, and high leather boots. Taking his time, he made his way down the open the space between the two lines and nodded politely to all those who watched him.

  He walked as soundly as any racehorse. There were no pebbles in that left boot tonight, Grace mused.

  The young women jostled each other, trying to get close to him, trying to watch him even as they curtsied. Grace could hear little giggles and squeaks of excitement from the girls as he glanced at them, as though he were the Prince of Wales come to Birdwell to find himself a bride.

  Which was not all that far from the truth.

  As he approached, Grace suddenly felt something like panic. She had been staring at him, taking in the sight of him, and had neglected to leave while she could. She wanted to walk away and wait somewhere else, but now it was too late.

  Now, he was nearly in front of Grace, looking just past the women in front of her and giving her a polite nod just as he slowly moved past and did the same to the next woman, and the next, and the next.

  Grace managed a small curtsey and then did turn and leave, feeling the tears sting her eyes. All the resolve that she had so carefully cultivated and held onto for the past month had vanished in a heartbeat, leaving her feeling empty and weak.

  Even worse were the memories that came flooding back at the sight of him. The soft moonlight in the quiet of the orchard had been so very different from the glare of the torches and the noise and chatter of the crowds here at the Inn.

  The warm scent of him as they lay in the soft grass beneath the apple blossoms . . . the feel of his body on hers . . . all that they had done . . . seemed to mean nothing to him now. He had simply walked past her with a nod, as though he didn’t even know her.

  She stopped with her hand on one of the posts along the walkway, facing away from the crowd and trying to catch her breath. The Fabrics, Feathers & Fineries shop was right across the street and she wanted nothing more in life than to go there, change out of the yellow muslin dress, walk home to the peace and quiet of Applewood Cottage . . . and never leave it again.

  Then she saw the door of the shop open up. Her aunt and uncle stepped out into the cool of the evening and sat down on the small bench beneath the window. They looked very weary as they sat together and watched the crowds of carefree, beautifully dressed men and women making they way towards the Inn to enjoy a night at the ball.

  There was no ball for Aunt Betsey and Uncle Leonard, or for her parents. Nor would there be for her two brothers once they were grown. All of that had been saved for Grace, in her pretty yellow dress and elegantly done hair with its collection of brass hairpins . . . and her very expensive gown of pale blue silk that sat waiting for her wedding.

  Again, after so many times, she reminded herself of the bargain she had made when it came to Adam. Now, it occurred to her that perhaps the best way to think of it was that Adam did leave – just as Thomas had told her. Adam Wheeler, the very handsome and down-to-earth coachman she had known, really was gone.

  Now, there was only Thomas, Earl Worthington, a man she did not know at all and whose way of life – and great wealth – were not something that would ever welcome someone like her. And even if they did, she would have no idea of how to behave in such a world.

  No, the only way to handle this very strange situation was to accept the fact that Adam Wheeler was gone forever and only a stranger named Thomas remained . . . and hope that all of the sweet memories she had of Adam would be enough to sustain her for a very long time.

  * * *

  Somehow, Grace found her way back to the Robbins Inn. The entire ground floor of the Inn was now crushed with people, for it was imperative to be seen at this ball since Lord Worthington was finally in attendance.

  Fortunately, though, the crowd proved to be something of a shield and she spent most of the time sitting in a chair along the wall with a few other girls who also seemed to be feeling shy. No one seemed to notice them, since every woman in the room was completely consumed with gaining the earl's attention either for herself or for her daughter.

  It was also easy to avoid seeing the earl, since she was seated most of the time and there were always people standing in front of her. Though she could usually tell where he was in the room by the giggling and twittering that followed him wherever he went.

  As promised, however, Mrs. Robbins did make a valiant effort to introduce Grace to some eligible men. Much to Grace's relief, most of them only gave her the barest of courtesies before disappearing into the crowds again. It seemed they had no wish to meet her after she had been called out in the streets as an imposter the last time.

  Eventually, Grace did accept two dances: one with an older widowed tradesman in a patched coat and one with a farmer's son who did not seem much older than her brother John. Not even her Aunt Betsey would consider either of them suitable husbands, so Grace felt that she had done her duty while not having to consider marrying anyone right now.

  That, too, was something of a relief.

  She began to realize that the earl was moving closer to her spot along the back wall. He was quite tall and she could not avoid seeing him entirely. At one point, he turned towards her – and their eyes met.

  Instantly, she looked down, looked away, looked anywhere, but at his handsome face and light brown eyes. But Grace found that after the strain of the past month and of this particular evening, her nerve had failed at last.

  She had no wish to stay here in this room until the musicians were done for the night, and then have to see which of the young women the earl lingered with to say goodnight to . . . or even take out to his carriage with him.

  Abruptly, Grace stood up. Still looking only at the floor, she pushed her way through the crowd and fled the Robbin
s Inn for the relative calm of the streets and walkways outside.

  * * *

  "Grace!"

  She would recognize that voice anywhere. It was Adam's voice, though Grace told herself, yet again, that Adam was gone and Thomas merely looked – and sounded – like him.

  Hurrying down the walkway, Grace lifted the hem of her yellow gown and prepared to step out across the street. But the carriages were returning to pick up their passengers and she was forced to hesitate.

  There was a firm hand on her arm.

  "Grace. Miss Miller. Please wait," said Earl Worthington.

  Cautiously, looking around her, Grace saw that the street and walkway were crowded with people staring at her and at the earl. All of them were just waiting to see what might happen next.

  She had no choice but to turn around and curtsey politely to him. He released her arm and bowed, and then reached out to place his hand gently beneath her chin and raise her face, so she would have to look at him.

  All she saw were Adam's eyes, shining down at her.

  "I would like to take you to your home, Miss Miller. I understand that your own carriage was not available this evening. Please allow me to take you safely to your family."

  Still watching his eyes, seeing nothing else, she nodded faintly, and then walked with Earl Worthington to his beautiful black landau carriage.

  * * *

  The landau was perfect and new in every detail. Grace placed one hand on the side as it rolled along into the night and wondered what her father would think. It was almost easier to keep her eyes down and study the quilted velvet upholstery of the seats than it was to think of how Lord Worthington sat right beside her.

  Or, even worse, to look at Mr. and Mrs. Clarke sitting across from her. Mr. Clarke had been quiet and polite, but the sparkling and perfect Mrs. Clarke had given her only the barest of nods in greeting and then refused to engage in any conversation at all. It was terribly rude, but right now Grace was happy for the discourtesy if it meant she didn’t have to speak.

  The earl spoke a few words to Reuben, the driver, telling him where to go. It was not long before the fine carriage stopped in front of Applewood Cottage and the earl stepped out, helping Grace after him. "Take the Clarkes back to Feathering Park. Send a phaeton for me here in one hour. Go, now."

  "Very good, sir. I'll see to it," Reuben said. The black pair trotted off into the night, leaving Grace and the earl standing beside the wall in front of the cottage.

  The quiet night closed in around them. Feeling more confused than ever, Grace turned to him and tried to speak. "Why?" she finally managed to say. "Why are you doing this?"

  By way of answer, he got down on one knee in front of her. "This is why," he said, reaching for her hand.

  When she only looked at him, unable to move, he grinned. "You didn’t think I would let you go, did you?"

  "But – we already spoke of this!" she cried, pulling her hand away. "I was not suitable to be the wife of a titled man, even before I was disgraced before the entire county. No one would ever accept me!"

  He got up and moved to her and took her hand again. "Dear Grace . . . have you not seen that the people will accept almost anything that their earl does? They trust me, you see. I have spent many years earning that trust and now is the time when I need it in return. And I intend to have it."

  "But – "

  Again, he got down on his knee. "Will you marry me?"

  She just stood there blinking, staring down at him in the moonlight. "I am no countess. I am nothing but a servant. I – "

  He held tight to her hand so that she could not pull back again. "You are both the kindest and the strongest woman that I have ever met. And the most beautiful, for you are as natural as a dove who needs no artifice or jewels to enhance her.

  "Your family, too, is kind, as well as being the most loyal sorts that anyone could ever hope for. All of you are exactly what I had hoped to find for myself, but never believed I would."

  Thomas gave her hands a little tug. "Marry me, Grace Margaret Miller! Marry me and be my countess, my lady, my wife, my love. I do not ever want to be without you again. Say you will marry me and not abandon me to loneliness for the rest of my life."

  Finally, she smiled at him, gazing down and seeing the face of the man she had come to love. "I will marry you, Thomas Worthington. I will!"

  * * *

  "Huh! It's the king, come back for me at last!"

  "No, no, Father. It’s not the king. Sit down, please. We just want to speak to you." Grace helped her father sit down on a bench in the walled yard behind the cottage, with her nervously excited mother close beside him. "This is – "

  "The Prince of Wales, then!" Cecil struggled to his feet, and as before, bowed awkwardly to Thomas. "Welcome to my humble house, sir. What may I do for ye?"

  "Father, no, please listen to me! He is not – "

  But Thomas only held up his hand to Grace. "Thank you, Mr. Miller. I am here to ask permission to marry your daughter."

  After a moment of incomprehension, Cecil's face lit up in a huge smile and he looked at his wife beside him. "Patience! Did ye hear that? The prince wants to marry our daughter! Oh, what a fine life she will have from now on. Finally, she will have all that she deserves!"

  "Indeed, she will," said Patience, through her tears. "Indeed she will!"

  "Then – you agree, Mr. Miller?" asked Thomas.

  "Aye, sir, of course I agree! Go, Grace Margaret, and be happy, for all of us are more than happy for ye."

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  A Visit To Worthington Estate

  The very next afternoon, before she could think or have time to change her mind, Thomas called for Grace in his phaeton. She'd spent the entire morning bathing, dressing, and having her hair curled and pinned up by her mother. She now felt fresh and new as she walked out into the summer afternoon in her green muslin dress.

  "I hope you enjoy the phaeton, Grace," said Thomas, as he helped her step up to its single, high seat across the front. "It's much faster than the carriage. I want to arrive just as soon as we can!"

  "I see, I see." She laughed as he sat down and sent the black horse into a smart trot. "Now, tell me: Is this Raven or is it Starling who draws us today?"

  "Raven, of course. Near or far, he's got no star. That's how you can tell him from Starling!"

  Grace laughed at his bit of rhyming slang. "You sound just like Adam," she ventured, as she looked up at him beside her.

  He grinned. "Adam’s not a bad sort. I rather like him myself. I think he would tell you that he will always be here for you, Grace, for he loves you just as well as I do."

  Her heart lifted at his words, and she held on tight to his arm as Raven trotted fast along the road to Worthington House.

  * * *

  "Come inside, Grace. This is the house that will soon become your own. I hope you like it."

  With a deep breath, Grace stepped across the threshold of Worthington House. "I thought Northcliffe was fine enough," she whispered. "But this – "

  She had gotten to know the house at Northcliffe quite well when she had been a housemaid there. While that place was heavy and dark and often gloomy, Worthington was light and bright and filled with windows and soft sunshine, even on a misty gray day like this one.

  Thomas took her all through both levels of the house, showing her the withdrawing rooms, and the dining room, and the library downstairs, and then the impeccably appointed bedrooms upstairs. "There’s a summer kitchen with laundering space outside," he added. "And later, I will show you the barns and walk out to see my Teeswater cattle. I'm quite proud of them."

  "I would love to see it all, Thomas. It is – wonderful beyond anything I could have imagined." She smiled up at him as they walked back downstairs. "But – I wonder if I may see the servants' cottages. I was thinking that perhaps my mother and father and brothers might have one. That way, Applewood could be returned to my Aunt Betsey and Uncle Leonard."

  "
Of course, I will show you the cottages, Grace. But when it comes to the rest of your family, I’ve thought of something else that may suit them."

  "You have? What is it?"

  He just grinned back at her. "You will see. Come with me, now. There is someone who wants very much to meet you."

  Grace felt a sudden rise of nerves, but followed Thomas into one of the withdrawing rooms. There, seated at a comfortable sofa, with a low table in front of her, sat a very dignified older woman in a dark blue beaded gown with a soft cream-colored wrap draped across her shoulders and trailing down over her arms.