Losing the Earl: Regency Romance Clean Read (Yearnings for Love Book 2) (7 page)

William, swayed on his feet for a moment and then he spoke, “You missed. You cheated and you missed.”

“You don’t have to shoot me.”

“I’ll be shooting
at
you, there is a possibility I may miss.”

“Sir please, I beg you.” Samuel looked around before swallowing hard and getting down on one knee in the snow. “Please allow me my life.”

William turned toward the crowd, “Good people, if the man who assailed Lucy last night makes himself known, I shall spare his life and the life of the poor retch. I promise to end this contest and not pursue any further. Two lives spared and all you suffer is damage to your reputation.”

William waited, with no response he raised his gun and turned to face Samuel.

“I shall grant this man amnesty, if anyone comes forth as Lucy’s attacker.”

Samuel looked up, fear etched over his face. He searched for help among the crowd, but no one moved. When no one spoke up, his shoulders slumped and he looked defeated. “I did it and you gave you word if the man who attacked Lucy came forward you would not shoot him or me, therefore you cannot shoot me.”

“Apologize.”

“I am sorry; I beg your forgiveness…”

“Not to me, to Lucy and Thomas who you insulted.”

Down on both knees Samuel turned to the crowd, “I hope you accept my most humble apology. Forgive my trespasses on your honor and I hope you can find it with in yourself to pardon any ill will you may have felt on my behalf.” He looked angry. “Does that satisfy you sir?”

“Run,” William discharged his pistol into the ground.

Samuel sprinted for the house. Mary, relieved Samuel was alive, wrestled with the ambiguity of having to marry him. Her father turned to the current Earl of Arthingworth and cleared his throat, “I think we have a problem. I believe we have a scandal on our hands.” She knew anytime her father used “we” in a conversation his displeasure bordered on shouting. He had never used “we” with her, but overhearing it with business associates, she knew this conversation could take a bad turn.

“A gentleman’s agreement holds,” said the Earl. “We lack the funds to remain—”

“The problem is, if your son is scandalized it does me no good. We can’t move forward, regardless of your position, because if my daughter is to wed a man it is to bring prestige to my family. We want better; once this becomes gossip in London, we will find little value in this arrangement. Yes, we had a gentleman’s agreement, I invite you to find a barrister and bring me before a judge.”

“Sir, you do not stand by your word.”

“My Lord, given what has transpired, my honor should be of little concern to you. We cannot marry off our daughter to a shamed buffoon.”

Mary, focused on the bickering of the two men, didn’t noticed William slipping away. She worried the argument could lead to another duel. She relaxed only when she saw him leave the house in fresh clothes with his father’s butler hauling his luggage behind him.

“I think your son has made up his mind for you. I’m sure you’ll be able to find some other rich family with a wealthy daughter to bail you out.”

That was enough for her.

Mary ran for the house, the snow crunching underfoot. She needed to find William, her freedom was so close. If he proposed, she believed in her ability to convince her father to concede. Her body alive, she lifted her hem and sprinted up the stairs to William’s room. Throwing open his door she came to a skidding halt.

The room was empty.

There was a note lying on the bed. “Thank you for your hospitality and allowing us cover during the blizzard. –William Caulfield.”

He’d left.

***

It made so little sense to Mary. She'd found freedom and found love. But now with her love gone there would be no way to secure that freedom. Returned to the status of bargaining chip to further her father’s investments, she raised her hand to her face to wipe a tear and resigned herself to her fate.

But no one would see her broken. Taking a deep breath, she collected herself and returned to her bedroom.

On her bed was another letter, the handwriting familiar.

Dear Mary,

With weather allowing and duel settled, I must make it to London and return home on the most urgent business of my life. If not so dire an affair, I would spend every heartbeat I could with you. Please hold your father at bay and let him know I hope to return as soon as God allows.

She is both the light and storm,

my words not holding comparison morn.

Delivering couplets and variation of other words,

flight of ideas like flocking birds.

For if I shall travel on the sea,

and name boats for her, will she travel with me.

Even if it is said, that woman is fine,

I never want to be parted from mine.

For her I must rush and navigate by sun and moon,

and return I will, as certain as the sun shall reach its zenith noon.

The earth was made to circumnavigate,

for her I will call any port home and never be late.

For her love I brave,

beast of men, the fury of the ocean and threat of grave.

Your Forever Loving,

William Caulfield

The letter made things worse when it should have been liberating. Confirming his love for her, it lacked a promise of marriage or hint of proposal. There was no way she could show this to her father and beg him to understand that William was the man she should marry. Lacking even the hint of a proposal there was nothing she could do for herself, or her father’s desire to marry her off for advancement.

***

Mary spent the rest of her week locked in her room. Her parents assumed her melancholy was from her broken engagement and so permitted her grieving. After everything was packed and furniture covered, they left the house to the hands of the caretakers, and they headed back to London. The trip took a week, and upon returning to London and getting settled in, her father requested her presence in his study.

“I want you to know that I have already entered into negotiations with another suitor—”

“I cannot, my heart is not your plaything and I not your property.” It stunned her to speak to him so, but she was spent.

“My child, my love, do you not understand that your mother and I said the same thing to our parents? What you are feeling is natural. This is the sacrifice of the privileged class. We are limited in our choices when it comes to affairs of the heart.”

“I don’t want to hear any more of this. If it is your will to wed me in such manner, then I do so under protest. Know that I will do nothing to disobey you but I guarantee you no happiness. You need to listen to me—”

“No, you need to listen,” he said firmly, but lovingly. “We are doing this for your future. We are doing this for
you
and we will not tolerate disobedience.” With that he steered her out.

There was no more talk of marriage for six weeks. Mary’s mother took her to a dressmaker and was fitted for a bridal gown. Her mother kept smiling at her, encouraging her to make decisions about the dress, but Mary could not invest herself in what she viewed as “polishing for an auction block.”

Knowing she would never see William again, she got into her family’s carriage and began the trip with her parents to their country home. If nothing else, she would see the Homewood sisters. She requested if she must marry, and she must put up a charade, that the ceremony be small and guests only key individuals.

Mary experienced humiliation at the hands of her friends all over again. The Homewood sisters giggled, knowing the identity of her engagement for a second time. Teasing her, they asked how her parents could keep finding lords to match her with.

Dahlia was tightening her corset and getting her ready for a husband she’d never met as he waited next to an Episcopal Minister in the ballroom. She thought it brash, her new husband not even caring she had been raised Church of England. Her father’s apathy was obvious; the massive amount of money these people had would clam his nerves over any moral issues.

Dressed and with bouquet in hand, she stood in the doorway of the ballroom. Unable to move her feet, she began shaking at what she saw.

At
who
she saw.

Her father whispered into her ear, “Yes, they are American’s but the father has a merchant shipping business, a textile factory and exports rum and sugar. The proposal came the day he left, and he needed to rush home to beg his father’s permission. And they asked no dowry.” Her father offered a rare, warm smile.

William stood between the minister and his best man Thomas. An older man that resembled a well-aged William, stood on the other side. His father had crossed the Atlantic for his son’s wedding. William straightened and smiled, a grin that stretched from ear to ear. He never looked more handsome, or more happy.

Mary breathed in deep, clutching her bouquet for dear life. She exhaled and began walking towards the future she’d only dreamed of, and the man who made life worth dreaming for.

I hope you enjoyed
Losing the Earl
as much as I enjoyed writing it. I like to keep in touch with readers, and if that sounds good and you’d like to say hello, just shoot me an email at
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Thanks again and God bless…

Rebecca Grave

If you haven’t read the first in the series, you may enjoy, “Chasing the Earl.”
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