Read How to Wed an Earl Online
Authors: Ivory Lei
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Fiction, #Historical Romance, #Romance, #Historical
How to Wed an Earl
Ivory Lei
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
Copyright © 2013 by Ivory Tamargo
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 10: 1-4405-7318-2
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7318-7
eISBN 10: 1-4405-7317-4
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7317-0
Cover art © istock/com/jcarroll-images, istock.com/illustrart, istock.com/GoodLifeStudio
A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance
To my husband, Tom, and my first reader, Laura — thank you. I am also grateful for the support of friends and family whom I’ve no doubt would love to be mentioned here. So, there.
Sincere gratitude goes out to the Crimson Romance team as well for their editing genius and for taking a chance on Penelope. Finally, a big shout out goes to the gentleman from Connemara and everyone who lived in early nineteenth-century Britain. This book would not have been possible without you.
Maitland Hall
Colton, England, 1805
There was nowhere to hide. Penelope Maitland considered her options as her cousin, and world’s tallest nine-year-old, David, continued counting. The salon’s chairs had those annoying, thin legs, and so did the sideboard. Those were no good. The curtains were too sheer and the table … the
table!
She crawled under the table just as David finished counting, turned around and headed straight for her.
“You always hide in the most obvious places!” he complained, crouching to meet her eyes beneath the furniture. “How did you ever manage to get away from your nurse?”
“I have my ways.” Penelope took David’s proffered hand as she squeezed out from under the table. In truth, she never needed to hide from Nurse. The woman liked David more, and she was far too busy prettying herself up to notice Penelope slipping out of the schoolroom. She never needed to hide from anyone. David was the only one who ever sought her out, and he rarely visited.
Talking about Nurse seemed to conjure her up, because she burst into the salon, breathless, her big bosom heaving. “Master David! Thank goodness you found Miss Penelope. I’ve been looking everywhere for her.” She pressed David’s grinning face to her breast and glowered at Penelope. “The baron wants to see you.”
“Father’s home!” she jumped, earning another glare from Nurse. “Where is he? When did he arrive? How long has he been here? Did he receive my letter?”
Nurse smirked. “He’s in his study. He’s been here since dawn.”
But … it was nearly suppertime. He must have forgotten about her. Again.
Still
, she thought as Nurse led her into the study
, Father is home
.
And she’d missed him
.
That was all that mattered.
“There’s my little pet!” Father said, as he looked up from the papers laid out on his desk. He was dark and handsome, like a prince from a fairy tale. But he was grinning at Nurse, so perhaps the greeting wasn’t meant for Penelope.
“Father! Did you get my letter? Is that why you’re home?”
After dismissing Nurse with a nod, Father reluctantly turned his hazel eyes on her. “Yes, I received your letter.” He motioned for her to sit across from him and waited until she was comfortable. “You know, Penelope … ‘love’ has an ‘e’ at the end.”
“Oh.”
“That’s right, it also has an ‘o’ in the middle, not a ‘u.’”
He looked disappointed in her. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better, Father, if you teach me.”
She would not cry. She
wouldn’t
. Father didn’t like tears, from her or Mama.
Father cleared his throat and shuffled the papers on his desk. “Well, there is a way you can make up for your failings, and your mother thinks it’s time you are told. You might be a girl, but you can make a lot of money for us, Penelope.” He grinned, looking proud of himself. “You see, three years ago, I gave your hand away in marriage to a future earl.”
Marriage?
He was surely jesting. She was six! “Can I still live here?”
“You don’t have to move out for a while yet.” Father laughed. “Not until your future husband comes for you. You see, that saves us a London Season, and your future father-in-law is a very wealthy friend of mine. Your Uncle Hugh might have produced the heir, but it will be
you
who will make the family part of an earldom. It’s important to us, and that’s why I’m here. This is your duty, Penelope, and even my brother can’t complain about that.”
She doubted it. Uncle Hugh bossed Father around, and he disapproved of almost everything Father did, especially when it had something to do with the “tumbling ladies” Father saw in London. She tried to imagine marrying for duty like her parents had, being wife to a man who was rarely around and having headaches that prompted daily visits with Dr. Walker. Would her husband tease her about not being good at playing hide and seek then abandon her to Nurse, like David had earlier? And David was one of the
good
boys.
“I don’t like boys.”
Father looked horrified. “Listen, missy, you will marry the future Earl of Ravenstone and help me make up for failing to produce a boy. You don’t want your uncle to be the baron, do you? He’s awful. You want to help
me
. I need you to do this.”
She nodded. He’d never needed her for anything before. Perhaps if she agreed, he would stay.
He grinned, all charming once more. “Don’t worry, Penelope. You’d like
this
boy, because he acts like a girl. He’s almost twelve but still can’t stomach shooting pheasants with me and his sire.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “He says chicks need their parents. The boy has strange ideas, just like you.”
Just like me, but better. He made Father listen.
She should write to this boy and ask him how he achieved this feat. “What’s his name?”
“Lucas,” Father answered after a long pause. He took a feather from his pocket. “He suggested I give you this, though I’m not certain why he thought you’d want it.”
Because he wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. She was sure of it. He’d never met her, yet he’d thought of her.
He saved pheasants
. She smiled. “I’ll marry him, Father.”
“Good girl.” He reached out and ruffled her curls.
“I’ll thank him for the feather.”
“Do you know how to spell his name?” Father shook his head and sighed. “We want to make a good impression. Proper girls do not just send missives to strange boys, Penelope. They don’t misspell anything when they do. Wait for him to write to you. If he wants to hear from you, he will let you know. You don’t want to scare him away by being overeager. Trust me, no one likes that. It’s annoying.”
Was that why Father was never around? Because she was overeager and annoying?
“Now, send Nurse back in here,” Father continued. “She’s been naughty not teaching you your letters well enough.” He chuckled. “She shall be spanked.”
Penelope laughed with him, though she wasn’t sure why Father found the thought of spanking Nurse so amusing. She would ask Lucas about it.
She had no doubt he would write to her soon. Maybe he would understand and explain the joke to her. That evening, she placed the pheasant feather on her pillow and began writing to a boy whom Father said was just like her. If Father was right, then she already knew what Lucas would want from her. Letters always took a lot of time and effort, but if she began now, then it wouldn’t take long for her to reply once Lucas’s letter arrived. She would impress him with her skills.
Dear Lucas,
Father likes to spank my nurse …
She paused, remembering how disappointed Father was when she’d misspelled “love.” She continued writing, concentrating on each word until her eyes grew heavy and the letters blurred together. She needed to read the missive again on the morrow, to make sure there were no mistakes. It had to be perfect, and she didn’t have much time.
Because Lucas would write soon
. Perhaps his letter was on its way at this very moment. When she was ready for bed, she reached for the feather and held it close to her cheek.
London, 1824
Lucas Arthur Phillip Drake, fourth Earl of Ravenstone, sat across from his friend and grudgingly accepted the truth: The dead in his family had cunning ways of exacting revenge from beyond the grave. Their ghosts haunted the living, demanding justice. Demanding vengeance.
And in this instance, they demanded a wedding.
The earl fell silent after imparting this information to his friend and stared at the fireplace in moody contemplation, resigned to the untenable situation in which he found himself.
“You’re looking very grim for an eager bridegroom.”
Lucas’s gaze snapped back to his friend, the amiable Anthony Milthorpe, Viscount Westville, who sat opposite Lucas at their table near the grand marble fireplace in the opulently styled room of his gentlemen’s club while they savored the excellent brandy one expected to be served at Brooks’s.
This afternoon, however, he had more than just the communal enjoyment of expensive spirits on his mind. One look at the empty mahogany tables and plush leather chairs confirmed that he’d chosen the best time of day for the meeting. Except for a small group of elegantly attired young gentlemen seated at the other end of the room, it was entirely vacant.
Shifting his gaze back to Westville, Lucas realized his companion was waiting for him to explain why he was so “very grim.” He knew he appeared almost sinister compared to his childhood friend. Fair-haired, tall and lean, Anthony was his exact opposite in looks and temperament. Lucas had inherited his Spanish mother’s dark coloring and his father’s monstrous build.
They did have one thing in common, though,
he thought.
Information
. Anthony was the only person outside of Lucas’s family who knew about the infuriating terms of his father’s will.
He crossed his arms over his broad chest, leaned back in the oversized leather armchair, and sighed before quietly announcing the reason for their meeting and his demeanor. “I’m leaving for the South Lakes tonight to collect the little baggage.”
“Good God, man, that’s no way to refer to a fiancée!”
Leave it to Anthony to be gallant
. What else was Lucas to call a fiancée he had neither proposed to nor even met?
“You’re the expert at charming the ladies.” Lucas stretched his long legs out in front of him and gave Anthony a mocking glance. “What would you have me call someone I’ve been promised to since I was a boy, whom I now need to wed if I don’t want to lose all the lands that go with my earldom?”
Anthony grinned. “Destiny?”
He let out a low, embittered laugh that rumbled from his chest and shook his shoulders. Then he took a healthy swallow of his brandy, refusing to dignify Anthony’s daft suggestion with any reply.