The Earl and His Lady: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 4) Read online

  The Earl and His Lady

  by Sally Britton

  Other Titles By Sally Britton

  The Branches of Love Series:

  Prequel Novella, Martha’s Patience

  Book #1, The Social Tutor

  Book #2, The Gentleman Physician

  Book #3, His Bluestocking Bride

  Book #4, The Earl and His Lady

  The Earl and His Lady

  The Earl and His Lady © 2018 by Sally Britton. All Rights Reserved.

  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 permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover design by Blue Water Books

  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.

  Sally Britton

  http://www.authorsallybritton.com

  First Printing: August 2018

  Dedicated to my husband, who keeps me going, and to my children. They are my inspiration.

  Chapter One

  May 1812

  Virginia, Baroness of Heatherton, crushed the letter from the barrister in her hand, hating each word it contained. She harbored no ill will toward Mr. Olivier for writing the abhorrent thing, but that did not lessen her dismay and fear.

  “Mother?” The sweet voice of her elder son drew her from her dark thoughts. The two boys played inside today. The weather had turned gray and cool, considering it was the month of May.

  “Yes, Phillip?” She looked down at the carpet where her two boys played together with wooden horses.

  “Can we live with Cousin Christine forever?” His green eyes sparkled hopefully, round and wide beneath the dark curls inherited from his father. “She said she’ll teach me how to ride and drive a cart if we stay long enough.”

  “Me, too!” Little Edward, only four years old, paused in his construction of stables he’d formed with books borrowed from the library. “I want to ride a pony, please.”

  “That would be exciting, wouldn’t it?” Virginia smiled at both of them and her hold on the letter relaxed. For the time being, she and her sons remained safe. The threat of her brother-in-law’s actions remained far enough away to give her time to think. “But Cousin Christine and Cousin Thomas might grow tired of us eventually.”

  “Never,” a voice said, drawing Virginia’s eyes to doorway. The woman in question entered the sitting room. “I would keep you here forever if I could.” Christine Gilbert, formerly Christine Devon, walked with a fluid confidence most women worked years to achieve. Her time spent in the saddle had given her a different sort of grace than one learned on a ballroom floor.

  Christine sat next to Virginia and leaned down to the children. “I came by way of the kitchen with news for you. Cook has shortbread out on the cooling racks. Should either of you wish to sample it, I think she would be happy to oblige.”

  Both boys came to their feet and turned pleading eyes to their mother.

  Virginia attempted to maintain a serious expression but trying to repress her smile gave her away. Her sons were the center of her world. They’d lost so much with their father’s death. How could she deny them a small treat? “Go on. And take some to Nurse Smythe. You know shortbread is her favorite.”

  The boys charged out of the room like pups intent on the scent of their treat. Christine laughed and Virginia bit back a laugh before she spoke.

  “They are getting spoiled living here with such an indulgent cousin.” Her shoulders relaxed and she shook her head ruefully.

  “I love having them here, and I’m glad you came too.” Christine’s wide smile attested to the honesty of the statement. She possessed no guile, saying what she thought, by turns entertaining and horrifying Virginia. Thomas Gilbert, Christine’s husband, took it all in stride and with good humor. He obviously adored his wife.

  Seeing their happiness made Virginia feel the loss of her husband more keenly. When Charles left her behind, he took a large piece of her heart with him. Virginia feared the ensuing hole would never be filled again. Charles had been ill for months before he passed away, giving Virginia ample time to learn to hide her grief, to keep her emotions safely behind a wall. The letter discomposed her, however, bringing her emotions nearer the surface.

  “Is something amiss, Virginia?” her cousin asked.

  Virginia forced a smile, but it felt shaky at best. “I have a letter from Mr. Olivier.”

  Christine’s eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t sound like he’s sent pleasant news.”

  “Not at all, I’m afraid. My brother-in-law is pushing through with his suit to obtain guardianship of the boys, and the court is sympathetic. I worry leaving Bath as abruptly as I did made me appear unstable.” She sighed and held the crumpled paper out, not even caring that its ruined state showed her frame of mind so clearly. “What am I to do? I thought Charles had taken care of all of this.”

  “He never dreamed his wishes would be overturned.” Christine took the paper and smoothed it out in her lap, her eyes reading the tidy script of the solicitor. “But Mr. Olivier is advising you to remain in the country?”

  “Yes. He says that so long as I am in mourning the Court of Chancery may be reluctant to act. It would be indecent to pull sons away from a grieving widow.” She put her hand to her temple and rubbed a circle over the steady pulse beneath the skin, hoping to stave off a headache. “But what am I to do? I cannot hide here forever. I will have to go back to our estate, and once I am there, Mr. Macon will know where to find me. The vulture.” She couldn’t say a kind word about him, not after he made her last days with her dying husband a knot of worry and fear.

  “Did you read the whole letter?” Christine asked abruptly, frowning down at the missive in her lap.

  “What else is there after receiving news such as that? No. I have little patience left to read whatever consoling words Mr. Olivier sends.” Although she truly appreciated the gentleman’s help, the case was hopeless. She hadn’t read beyond the first paragraph he’d penned.

  “Maybe you ought to read the rest. At least the part where he tells you how to avoid giving up the guardianship of your sons.” Christine lifted the letter, placing it in Virginia’s lap and pointing. “There.”

  Virginia refrained from casting her eyes heavenward. Dramatics were hardly necessary, but sometimes she rather wished to give in to them. Instead she focused on the words her cousin pointed at and read them aloud.

  “I believe there are only two ways to keep your sons under your care, given Mr. Macon’s aggressive suit. You must either find a male relative whose protection could be extended, thus making him the guardian of the boys, or you need to remarry, preferably a peer.” She stopped reading, her mind going numb.

  Christine plucked the letter up and continued where Virginia left off. “With a peer as husband, your brother-in-law would have to prove a member of the nobility as an unfit guardian. Chancery would not do so without an extreme amount of evidence to support such a stance.” Christine shook her head. “I think the male relative option the more likable of the two. But you only have your dreadful brother and my father, correct?”

  Virginia forced herself to answer, though her words sounded hollow to her ears. “My brother, since becoming the Earl of Vinespar, has never shown an interest in my mother or myself since h
e inherited. I sincerely doubt your father would show any inclination to aid me either, after I encouraged Julia’s match to her delightful husband.”

  Christine sighed. “And Thomas and I hardly count as near enough relatives to do the trick.”

  “What am I going to do?” Virginia asked.

  Christine shook her head. “An impossible choice, to be certain. Your brother is a lout.”

  “Turning to Vinespar is impossible,” Virginia said evenly. “He would be worse than Mr. Macon, I think. I love my sons, and they are dependent upon my protection. Neither of their uncles have their best interests at heart.” Virginia slowly came to her feet and walked to the window, looking out over the gardens that Mrs. Gilbert, Thomas’s kind-hearted mother, said would be in bloom any day. “What will I do?” she whispered, more to herself than her cousin.

  “Would you even consider finding a husband?” Christine’s words came out nearly strangled, and Virginia understood why voicing the idea was difficult. She herself could hardly think it.

  Christine fought for a love match to her husband. She wouldn’t understand how Virginia could contemplate marriage only three months after her heart’s mate had died. Yet people married for less compelling reasons, without ever considering love.

  But how could she ever wed another with her heart still attached to her late husband? Charles had been everything that was good in the world. Though she had prepared for his loss, when the night came that he left her behind forever, her heart had shattered.

  Phillip and Edward had to be considered. If Gerard Macon won guardianship of them, he would not permit Virginia to raise them. He made it clear the boys would be sent to boarding schools and she would be left to live on her allowance, with only the unkempt dowager house as a place of residence. What he would do to Phillip’s inheritance until the boy came of age was uncertain, but Virginia doubted the funds would remain as sizable as they were at present.

  “I’m—I’m not certain what to do,” she said to the gray May skies. Marry? How could she—? Virginia wouldn’t find love again. Love like she’d shared with Charles was difficult to obtain even once in a lifetime.

  Christine’s skirts rustled, and the younger woman came to stand beside her. Her arm wrapped around Virginia’s waist in a sisterly embrace. “I will help in any way I can, Virginia. Tell me what you need.”

  Virginia felt the weight of responsibility on her shoulders more heavily each day, and the baroness knew she must bear up for the sake of her sons. The time for weeping had passed with her husband. The time for mourning would have to come to a premature end. And the business of life was left up to her.

  “As soon as I have some idea of that, I will give you your orders.” She spoke the words shakily, the strength she desperately needed slow to come to her aid.

  “I will do my best to think of answers with you,” Christine said, her words firm and kind.

  “Thank you, Christine,” Virginia said with all sincerity. “For everything.”

  Christine only nodded and gave her cousin another half-embrace before she walked away, leaving Virginia to stare out the window, wishing for a little sun to shine through the clouds.

  ¤

  Lucas Calvert, the sixth Earl of Annesbury, never did anything by halves. When he liked someone, it was with the full force of his personality. If he supported a venture, he threw his considerable influence forward to ensure success. Should he make an enemy, the man would never know a fiercer opponent in business or politics. His reputation as an eccentric but shrewd member of the peerage was well known, and people often watched his behavior and dealings in order to determine what their own should be.

  Riding across the country roads to Annesbury, Lucas knew he ought to be more satisfied with his life. Yet every day that passed left him less and less able to enjoy his successes. The passing of his wife nearly six years ago had left him numb to all but the most exceptional experiences. When she died, she took all the color of the world with her.

  London, with all the ton posturing and jockeying for favor, remained nothing but a gray blur before his eyes. Which was why, despite Parliament being in session, he decided to retire to the country. He had no desire to sit and listen to bickering peers all day while nothing of importance was decided.

  Parliament almost ignored the American problem after the Tippecanoe incident. They hoped a declaration of peace would end the irritation of the United States’ hostilities. They had greater problems on their hands when Napoleon’s decision to build an empire brought violence and pain to all of Europe. Then the Luddites at their own front door hardly helped matters, stirring up unrest.

  Frankly, Lucas was done with all of it. The world could keep its problems and he would see to his own.

  Lucas rode for his favorite estate, knowing he could not go on in this manner forever.

  “But what is there I have not tried?” he muttered to himself, glaring at the road. The scenery became more familiar with each passing minute.

  Annesbury Park remained a place of comfort; it held all the best memories of time spent with Abigail within its walls.

  When he and his mount rounded the gates at the foot of the drive, the chestnut trees lining the carriageway made him sit straighter. He’d loved climbing those trees as a boy and had always been grateful to whichever ancestor planted them. Chestnut trees were hardly the tall, stately variety that lined many a road. They were round, comfortable trees, reaching outward as well as upward, like the arms of a parent ready to embrace a leaping child.

  After passing beneath the shade of their leaves, he was home. At last.

  His careful eye took in the grounds of the estate, noting the sheep grazing on the wide lawns. He smiled to himself, remembering how aghast his mother had been that he kept barnyard animals where they might be seen. But he liked the woolly beasts and they did their share by keeping the grasses manageable.

  When he came to the house, he waited for the groom to collect his horse. He hadn’t sent word ahead of his arrival, but the butler came forward quickly.

  “My lord,” Gresham said, his face more lined than Lucas remembered. “Welcome home.”

  Lucas studied the man more closely. The butler had been part of the household staff for as long as Lucas could remember. How old must he be? He ought to retire to one of the pension cottages on the property, but Lucas wouldn’t dare mention the idea to the butler.

  Gresham had been there when he brought home Abigail, throwing the door open, proudly welcoming the new countess seven years ago.

  Lucas no longer felt the sharp stab of pain Abigail’s memory used to cause. Instead, an empty sort of feeling entered his heart, echoing with his memories.

  “Thank you, Gresham,” he said, trying to push the strange sensation from his mind. He stripped his gloves and hat away, handing each to the old man.

  “London not to your liking, my lord?” the astute old man asked, raising a pair of bushy white eyebrows. “Or is it business that brings you home?”

  “Oh, just wanting a change of scenery.” Lucas froze when his words rang through the empty hall, reverberating back to him. He took a few steps further inside, hearing the click of his boots on the marble. “Where is everyone?”

  “We weren’t expecting you, my lord,” Gresham reminded him, the faintest note of disapproval in his tone. “There is a fair in Rothwell and many took their free day to attend. The grounds staff went yesterday, the majority of the house staff today.”

  Lucas nodded, taking in the darkened hall and closed doors of the downstairs rooms. “But you didn’t go, Gresham?”

  “My lord,” Gresham said, making his way to the cloakroom to lay aside Lucas’s things. “I am hardly at an age for fairs that require more than a short cart ride to attend.”

  Darting a glance at him, Lucas saw a good-natured smile on his butler’s face, but the truth of the statement still gave him pause. “How old are you, Gresham?”

  “Sixty-nine, my lord.” Gresham bowed at the admission,
then straightened back up as tall and proper as ever he had stood. “And grateful for every day of it.”

  Lucas didn’t think he could say exactly the same of his own thirty-three years. “Good. Good.” He took a step toward the stairs but stopped. There would be no room ready for him. Barton, his valet, was still hours behind on the road with Lucas’s carriage full of luggage. Lucas hadn’t been patient enough to wait and travel in the loaded conveyance.

  “Is Cook out, too?” he asked, his eyes following the staircase to the dark hall above.

  “I’m afraid so. She left some cold ham and pickles, bread and cheese, for anyone who remained to have a pleasant repast. I could see to it you have tea and some refreshment, my lord. One of the kitchen maids remained.”

  An empty house did not feel at all welcoming. Lucas shook his head. “No. No, that is not necessary. You said the grounds staff is present? I assume that includes those at the stables?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Lucas turned and held out his hands. “Then I must ask for my things back, Gresham. I think I will pay a visit to Gilbert. I’ll return later this evening and eat whatever can be found.”

  “Very good, my lord.” Gresham handed the hat and gloves back to Lucas, and the earl hurried out the front door and into the open air of spring.

  He let out a tight breath and looked up to the sky, noting the only clouds to be soft, gentle wisps of white that meant the day could be depended upon to remain pleasant.

  Lucas went down the steps two at a time and walked at a fast clip to the stables.

  Cutter, the stable master, came forward quickly. “Welcome home, my lord.”

  It was his second welcome, but while the stables were much more full of life and sound than the manor, the hollow, empty feeling stayed with Lucas. “Thank you, Cutter. Could you have Zephyr saddled? I’m taking a ride to the Gilbert estate.”