An Angel for the Earl
An Angel for the Earl
By Barbara Metzger
Copyright 2011 by Barbara Metzger
Cover Copyright 2011 by Dara England and Untreed Reads Publishing
The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.
Originally published in print in 1994 as a Fawcett Crest Book, published by Ballantine.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Also by Barbara Metzger and Untreed Reads Publishing
Ace of Hearts, Book One of The House of Cards Trilogy
Jack of Clubs, Book Two of The House of Cards Trilogy
Queen of Diamonds, Book Three of The House of Cards Trilogy
A Suspicious Affair
An Angel For The Earl
Barbara Metzger
To Ruth Cavin, Harvey Klinger, Barbara Dicks, and Melinda Helfer.
Thank you.
Contents
Miss Lucinda Faire was eloping with the man of her dreams. Captain Leon Anders was abducting one of Derby's leading heiresses. Obviously, this was not a marriage of true minds.
Lucinda's first inkling that her dreams were about to be shattered came when the handsome officer ignored her company in the hired coach in favor of the silver flask he pulled from his scarlet coat. Not only was Leon drinking in front of a lady, but he had not thought to provide his beloved with anything to ward off the morning chill in the damp, drafty carriage. Having crept from her house before first light, Lucinda naturally hadn't broken her fast. She would not complain, though, lest dear Leon think her the peagoose she undoubtedly was for not even saving a roll from her dinner to carry along the way. Of course a kind word from dear Leon would have warmed her to the core, the way his sweet whispers always did in their stolen moments together. He must be too concerned with their flight to Gretna, she excused him, or perhaps all gentlemen were
that cranky in the morning. Heaven knew her father was.
Lucinda settled back in her corner of the coach, a smile on her lips, prepared to enjoy every moment of the grandest adventure of her seventeen years. No, she amended, this was the
only
adventure in her seventeen constricted, confined, and uncompromisingly correct years. Her parents had seen to that, the same way they were seeing to her marriage to Lord Halbersham, an ancient, curmudgeonly neighbor who spouted piety while his servants went cold and hungry.
Which reminded Lucinda of her present discomfort. “Leon, do you think we might stop soon to refresh ourselves? Perhaps at the next change?”
“What, are your attics to let?” her beloved growled. “Do you want your father to find us before nightfall?”
Well, no, but she couldn't help thinking that ten minutes spent sipping a cup of hot tea and ordering warm bricks for their feet would not make that much difference. Her father wouldn't even think to look for Lucinda until she did not arrive promptly for the noon meal, so sure was he that she'd be at her chores or practicing the harp. She drew her serviceable gray wool cloak more snugly about herself and studied her adored Captain Anders.
For once the sight of her soon-to-be-spouse did not send chills down Lucinda's spine. Perhaps that was because there were already so many chills down her spine and elsewhere, one more couldn't be noticed. Or perhaps the dark stubble on his jaw and the bloodshot cast to his eyes lent him an unfamiliar, harsh look. Lucinda was only used to the fair-haired, blue-eyed Adonis who had stolen her heart that day at the haberdasher's when he smiled just for her, plain little Lucinda Faire.
Leon was not smiling now, nor when they finally stopped to change the horses close to midday, and Lucinda made to follow him from the coach into the posting house.
“Get back in there, you nodcock,” he snapped, looking over his shoulder at the busy inn yard. “Do you want to chance being recognized this close to your home? One more red-coated soldier won't draw anyone's attention, but think of your father coming to ask after a blondish chit in a gray cloak, for pity's sake.” Lucinda's hazel eyes had grown wide in her face at his abrupt speech, so Captain Anders drew his gloved hand down the side of her cheek. “Hush now, sweetings. I'll bring back a nuncheon fit for a princess. My own princess.” That won him back a weak smile, so he shut the door behind him, adding, “I am only thinking of your reputation.”
Then why hadn't he pulled the window shades? Lucinda could not help wondering. And worrying about her reputation in the middle of a scandalous elopement seemed just a tad hypocritical. She tried her best to bury such disloyal thoughts. Dear Leon was simply as nervous and anxious as she was. This eloping business was not nearly as romantical as she'd imagined.
Captain Anders must have refilled his flask at the inn, for he kept sipping at it during the long afternoon, slouched in his corner across from her. As the bricks at her feet cooled off, Lucinda stared at the bleak, wintry countryside rather than at the reddening, scowling face of her beloved. Finally she fell asleep, huddled in her cape.
“Wake up, Lucinda.” Leon was shaking her shoulder none too gently. “We're at the inn where we'll spend the night.”
Lucinda shook her head to clear her mind, dislodging a pale curl or two. “Butâ¦but it's still light out. We can travel for another hour at least and gain that many miles on my father's pursuit.”
“These horses are tired and the driver says there is not another suitable inn for hours more. We'd be forced to put up at a hedgerow tavern or some such.”
“But that means we'll be two nights on the road, not one, without even a maid to chaperone. You were so concerned about my reputation at luncheon, whatâ”
“I said this is where we'll stay, dash it. Don't argue, you plaguey chit. Now, get down, and fix your hair. You look like a schoolgirl.”
Stunned and still sleep-fuddled, Lucinda could only stumble after him. He took her arm as they passed the innkeeper, smiled as the man bowed, and hustled her up the stairs.
“There was only the one room, so I said we were man and wife. Less explaining that way, anywise.”
“But I cannot share the room with you!”
He ignored her squawked protest. “Less expense, too. I ain't made of brass, you know. How much blunt did you bring along anyway?”
Lucinda reached into her reticule. “Just what's left from my pocket money. You know Father does not give me an allowance or anything.” She held out a handful of coins. “Will it be enough for another room?”
He took the coins. “We're on our way to Gretna, blast it, so stop being so deuced missish. I can't abide a prosy female.”
“Leon, Iâ¦I think you may have had too much to drink.”
“And what would you know about it, Miss Prunes-and-Prisms? Oh, go take your cloak off and sit down. The innkeep promised dinner soon. Try to act like a starry-eyed bride and not some frightened fawn, or he'll throw us out.” The captain shrugged out of his uniform coat without a by-your-leave and tossed it onto the bed before sprawling into the room's only comfortable-looking chair.
Lucinda picked up the scarlet jacket and hung it in the clothespress with her cloak. At least the room appeared clean, boasting a linen-laid table, chairs, and even a vase of flowers on the stone mantelpiece. Best of all, there was a sofa near the fireplace. A sofa that looked too short for Leon's tall frame, she noted with a twinge of satisfaction, thinking of the uncomfortable night he'd have in store.
Once again Lucinda's and the captain's thoughts were not marching in step.
“You're going to sleep where?” she gasped after dinner when he'd made his plans evident. “Not on your life!”
“Come on now, sweetings. What can a night or two matter?” He was holding her in his arms, stroking her back, whispering in her ear.
Perhaps a night or two in anticipation of their vows was not such a big thing after all, Lucinda was starting to think, when the captain kissed her. His mouth was wet and cold, and smelled of wine and brandy. It mattered. A lot. He was holding her so tightly she felt suffocated. She pushed him away. “No,” she declared, shoving him away again when he dragged her back into his embrace and started drooling wet kisses on her neck. For a girl's first experience at lovemaking, this left something to be desired. Not only did her hero seem to have feet of clay, but those feet were set in quicksand.
“Come on, sweetings.” Leon was panting. “We have to make sure you're well and truly compromised before your father finds us, else he's liable to drag you back home and hope to scotch any rumors.”
“Stop that, Captain!” Lucinda slapped away a hand that was straying where no man's hand had ever strayed. “And I do not wish to be compromised. In fact, I am thinking that perhaps we were too hasty about this elopement after all. We should have gone to my father, explained your prospectsâ”
“What prospects were those, sweetings?” he asked with a sneer. “Everyone knows the only prospects I have are hopes of getting your skint of a father to part with some of his blunt.”
The sinking feeling in Lucinda's stomach had nothing to do with the inferior dinner she'd just eaten. “My father's money? Youâ¦you don't love me at all, do you?”
“Don't come the innocent with me, girl. You would have come away with anyone who saved you from old Halbersham.”
“No, I loâ” Miss Faire's pride kept her from uttering the fatal words. She raised her chin. “I have reconsidered. I no longer wish to marry you, compromised or not.”
He laughed. “Who's talking of marriage? You think I intend to marry a drab little dumpling of a chit like you? You're even greener than I thought.”
Lucinda still hadn't grasped the depths of his infamy. “You planned this whole fake elopement just to ruin me?”
“That's only incidental, and no great treat either, I can tell you,” he said, adding insult to injury, waving his hand vaguely at her limp blond hair, the plain gray traveling dress that did nothing to improve a short, squat figure. The captain's lip curled in derision. “And they say there's no such thing as a homely heiress.”
She slapped him. “You, sirrah, are no gentleman. I am going home.”
Rubbing his cheek with one hand, the captain shoved her into a chair with the other. “You're not going anywhere until your father gets here with my blunt. That's right, I left him a note explaining right where you'll be and how much he'll have to pay to get you back, and to keep my lips sealed.”
“My father will make you marry me,” Lucinda cried, horrified at his admission, dismayed at the thought of spending the rest of her life with such a villain.
“Not when I show him my marriage lines. My Fiona's waiting for me in Liverpool.”
“Then he'll kill you.”
“That old man? He can challenge, but I'm a crack shot.”
If she had a pistol, Lucinda thought she might use it herself. “He'll have you arrested for abducting a minor. He'llâ¦he'll ruin your career.” Lucinda was running out of dire threats.
Anders just snickered and raised a bottle to his lips. Some of the wine dribbled out the side of his mouth. “Think again, little dab, he'll never make more of a scandalbroth by calling for the constables. And my army career has been over for years. The uniform just made my new, ah, profession more successful.”
Cardsharping, usury, highway robbery? Lucinda didn't even ask. “My father will see that you never get away with this. And you won't get a farthing out of him.”
“Oh, he'll pay. They all do.”
All? Lucinda choked back tears of rage and heartbreak. She'd been seven kinds of fool, but she wasn't going to make it eight by staying here one second longer.
Once more Miss Faire and her erstwhile fiancé had a major difference of opinion. As usual, the opinion of the stronger personality, or the stronger person, held sway. Anders dragged Lucinda back from the door by a fistful of the unfashionable gray gown, which ripped down the front as she wrenched out of his clasp. She was crying in earnest now, fear suddenly mingling with the welter of emotions. “Let me go!” she screamed when he grabbed for her again, trying to hit him, claw him, kick him, bite him, anything to get away.
“Shut up, bitch.” He slapped her, jerking her head back. Lucinda screamed, and thought she heard hollers in the hallway so she screamed again. Leon shook her, hard, then pressed his slimy lips to hers.
Lucinda pushed him away with all her strength, which was nothing compared to the captain's, except that he was the worse for drink and unsteady on his feet. He staggered back, cursing loudly. Then his foot struck the bottle he'd dropped. He toppled backward with a yell that was abruptly replaced by a sickening thud as his head hit the corner of the stone mantelpiece. Captain Anders collapsed the rest of the way to the floor while Lucinda shouted his name.
“Leon? Captain? My God, Leon, you can't be dead!”
The dirty dish won that argument, too.
* * *
The room was filled with people almost before Captain Anders hit the floor. The innkeeper was shouting for boys to ride to the doctor, the magistrate, the undertaker. His wife was squealing about never having such goings-on under her roof, and death being bad for business, and she should have known such a handsome rogue had no decent business with any milk-and-water miss. One of the maids fainted, two of the lady guests called for their carriages and reckonings, and a young buck who'd been in the taproom swore he'd heard the whole thing and was just about to rescue the young lady. The merchant in the room next door concurred the dastard had got what he deserved, but never mentioned a thought about coming to the damsel's aid.
And there was blood everywhere. On the floor, on the hearth, on Lucinda's hands, on her gown, on her mouth where he'd struck her. And mostly there was blood spattered all over Leon, so someone covered him up with a blanket from the bed. No matter; Lucinda still saw him. Someone put another blanket around her shoulders to cover up her torn dress. Someone else, one of the messengers, she thought, or perhaps the doctor, put a glass into her hand. She drank.
Then the magistrate came and asked a great many questions, which everyone else seemed to want to answer.
“I killed him,” she interrupted in a voice as dead as the captain. “My name is Lucinda Faire, of Fairview Manor, Derby. I did not mean to, but I killed him.”
“No, you didn't, my dear,” the magistrate replied. “The fireplace killed him. You were only trying to get away, self-defense and all that.” The magistrate was only a local squire. He was not about to set himself up against Sir Malcolm Faire, the richest man in Derby, not over some loose screw who should have hung for his crimes. After all, the magistrate had daughters of his own. “Death by misadventure, we'll call it. There'll have to be an inquest, but don't worry, your papa will come and handle all the details. I already sent for him. Why don't you wait downstairs in the private parlor? You'll be more comfortable there than up here with the, uh, mess.”