The Earl’s Wicked Seduction (Historical Regency Romance) Page 7

  Grace could hardly believe how her life was turning around. It seemed like the most wonderful of dreams. But she was well aware that, sooner or later, one always woke up from a dream.

  Chapter Eight

  The Earl Plans A Deception

  "Pull up! Pull him up!" cried Simon Clarke, laughing. "Poor old Warbler cannot keep up with you. Pull him up!"

  Thomas glanced back over his shoulder and grinned. His new mount, Blackcap, was indeed pulling away from the other horse and leaving him farther behind at every stride.

  The two men galloped over the rolling hills of the Worthington Estate in the soft grey afternoon. Thomas had just taken ownership of a new field hunter, the tallest and stoutest Thoroughbred he had ever seen, and wanted to try him out. Blackcap was the color of dark polished oak with black mane and tail, and Thomas had found no end to his strength and endurance.

  They were nearly in sight of the stone barn not far from the house, so Thomas asked the horse to slow down. Blackcap responded nicely even though he was out for the first time with a new rider in a new place. In a moment, Simon and Warbler caught up to them, and the riders eased their mounts to a trot and then a brisk walk.

  "So, do you like him?" asked Simon, urging his horse to stay beside Blackcap.

  "I do. I like him very well. He will do just fine."

  "Good, good. So, when are we going hunting next?"

  Thomas laughed. "The last hunt of the season was ten days ago. I was told you were – otherwise engaged."

  Simon just nodded. "My wife didn’t want me to go out. She wanted me to stay and play cards with her. She does love piquet."

  "And so you stayed."

  "Yes. I stayed." He drew a deep breath. "I do not object to being companionable with my wife. In fact, I would prefer it. But I do object to being ordered to do her will as though I were a mere servant."

  Simon gave Warbler a little more rein, allowing the horse to stretch his neck as he walked with long strides alongside Blackcap. "I’m sure you think me weak, Thomas, but I don’t want the battle that would follow if I do not honor her wishes. There will be days of coldness, crying, and complaining. It’s easier to simply humor her. And so, I do."

  "I see." Thomas paused, looking around at the newly growing grass and pale green leaves under the grey sky. "The hunts don't start again until November, unless you want to try cubbing in the fall."

  "I know that. I know that I missed almost all of the season."

  "So – cubbing, then?"

  "No, thank you. I'll leave the hound-training hunts to those training the hounds, and wait for the real thing along with you."

  "Well, you have about six months to prepare. Maybe you can win her over before then."

  His friend remained silent, just gazing out at the soft spring countryside as the horses walked along. It wasn’t long until they arrived at the beautiful twenty-stall stone barn of Worthington Estate.

  The two of them rode inside, onto the clean stone aisleway between the two rows of stalls, where they dismounted and handed the horses off to a couple of stableboys. Thomas found that he didn’t want to go inside the house just yet, and walked with Simon outside of the barn. Thomas sat down on a bench overlooking the valley below and the distant town of Birdwell.

  "I suppose I cannot put it off any longer," said Simon, standing on the gravel of the yard. "I suppose I have to tell you that you did, indeed, win our bet."

  "Why, thank you, old friend. I never doubted it. I think that Mr. Adam Wheeler was perfectly well accepted in town as just another coachman and servant. Even Mr. Nestor did not know me, and if he didn’t, then I think no one would."

  "You almost tipped it over by talking too much like an East Ender," warned Simon. "Underplaying a role is often better than overplaying it."

  Thomas laughed heartily. "I know you're right about that. But I was so much enjoying myself, it was hard to stop."

  "But what about the young woman there in Nestor's shop? With her brothers, I believe they were?"

  "They were. All of them are new here. She is a niece of the Vanes, who own the dress shop. Sweet girl," he added, feeling that he couldn’t help himself.

  "So she seemed," Simon agreed. "But also a simple country girl with brothers dressed like the gardener's sons."

  "Yet she took me for what I said I was," said Thomas. "Surely, she wouldn’t have been so kind if she thought I was anything, but a working man from the same society as herself?"

  "I suppose not." Simon moved a few steps closer. "Do you still intend to attend the first assembly ball as Adam Wheeler?"

  "I do. "

  His friend sighed deeply. "Then I think you had best tell me exactly what it is you plan to do at that ball. It's less than a fortnight from today."

  "It is." Thomas watched as his new small herd of Teeswater cattle heifers scattered across their field as the wind kicked up. They were less than a year old and still had time to play before becoming mothers to their own calves in another couple of winters. "I’m going to the ball. But also, not going."

  "Going – but not going?"

  "Yes. Adam Wheeler will be there. But Lord Worthington will not."

  Simon nodded. "I see. You intend to do what you did this morning, and go in disguise. Since you got away with it today, you hope to find a woman at the ball who might be drawn to you whether you are Lord Worthington or not."

  "Exactly so. Now that we know I can 'get away' with it, as you said, I am more determined than ever."

  "But what will your mother think of such a plan? You haven’t forgotten, have you, that you were the primary reason why your mother re-started the subscription balls in the first place?"

  "Of course, I haven’t forgotten. But the balls will still serve their purpose – just not quite the way my mother expected." When Simon simply looked baffled, Thomas quickly went on.

  "It's really quite simple. On the morning of the ball, when it’s too late to call it off, I’ll tell my mother that I do not wish to attend. She knows that I don’t enjoy such things overmuch. I believe she will understand – at least, for the first of them."

  "All right," Simon said, very cautiously. "Then what?"

  "Then, on the night of the ball, since the earl will not be in attendance, you may tell your wife that the earl has asked the two of you to stand in for him."

  "The two of us."

  "Yes, as his dearest friends. Once there, you will deliver the earl's message that he hopes everyone will enjoy the ball, but he has business to attend to and will, perhaps, join them at a later event."

  "I see."

  "And to prove that you were sent by the earl, you shall appear in one of his finest vehicles drawn by his new Norfolk Trotter pair."

  "Oh, dear, but Beatrice would love that."

  "I’m counting on it. I believe she will like it so much that she will never notice the man who is driving. The man who looks like any other coachman in livery."

  At first, Simon just stared at him, apparently at a loss for words. "You're – you mean to – you'll be our driver?" he finally managed to say.

  "Of course. Adam Wheeler will drive you. Why do you think I chose such a persona?" Thomas just grinned at his friend. "Since Lord Worthington is not attending the ball, he has offered his new landau, his new pair, and his new driver to his trusted friend, Simon Clarke, so that Mr. Clarke and Mrs. Clarke can offer their opinions on the success of the ball and whether or not they should continue."

  Simon shook his head. "Fooling a simple country girl and two children is one thing. Even fooling a bookseller who can barely see his own hands without a very thick quizzing glass is not much more. But an entire town, out to see and be seen at a ball?"

  "I told you, no one notices the servants."

  "The other servants notice. The other drivers will certainly notice. I will have to dismiss my own driver for the evening. They will want to know who is driving the earl's new carriage."

  "I don’t think they will care too much. Servants and
staff come and go all the time. I think that if you simply reassure your drivers that they are not being replaced, you’ll find that that is their only real concern.

  "Yes, but – someone may attempt to speak to this new driver as he waits with the carriage outside the ball."

  Thomas merely shrugged again. "If they do, the driver will introduce himself as Adam Wheeler, who came with the new vehicle and pair. He may or may not be staying for a permanent position at Worthington Estate."

  "I see. But – "

  "And if that answer is not satisfactory, then they will be instructed to ask Mr. or Mrs. Clarke personally. Or the earl himself."

  "They would never do that."

  "Of course not. Everyone knows that the earl's good friend would not be riding in the earl's landau with the earl's new Norfolk Trotter team with an unknown driver. Would he?"

  "Of course not."

  "Then think no more about it." Thomas grinned, becoming a little excited at the thought of the daring masquerade he was about to attempt. He found that he looked forward to the challenge of keeping his identity hidden in plain sight during such an important event.

  "Well, begging your pardon, Thomas, but what good would such a ruse do for you? Coachmen and drivers have to stay out in the street with their vehicles. They don't go inside of the ball and watch the ladies. How will you observe the young women at the ball if you don't – "

  "My dear Simon. Have you not seen how people talk in front of servants as though those servants were mere furniture? The girls on the walkways and in the street will be far more open in what they say and do than they will ever be inside at the actual ball, where they’re on their very best behavior with everyone watching closely. No, the carriage box is the ideal place from which to observe."

  With a deep sigh, Simon looked away and shook his head. "I cannot imagine you wouldn’t be found out. How will you get from Worthington to Feathering Park without anyone knowing it’s you?"

  "Leave that to me. I don't think it will be as difficult as you believe, Simon. Your part is simply to use one of my carriages and pairs to ride with your wife into town for the ball, and say nothing about who is driving."

  "Your own servants and coachmen might have something to say about it."

  Thomas shrugged. "There’s no reason why they should. My own men will only see the earl drive himself to Feathering Park on the evening of the ball, since you and your wife are representing me. Then, the next morning, they will see me return just the same as when I left. What could be simpler?"

  Simon just stared at his friend with his mouth slightly open. "I still cannot believe you’re serious." Then, after staring for a moment more, he shook his head. "You are serious."

  "I am." Thomas stood up and walked a few steps across the clean gravel of the yard with his hands clasped behind his back. "It is past time that something be done. My mother is well, but she is aging. I’m her only living child. The other three did not survive long past infancy, and my father is already resting in the family crypt.

  "I am all that is left of the Worthington legacy. It’s past time that I marry and have sons and daughters of my own."

  "That is quite understandable," agreed Simon. "But – isn’t all of that exactly why you should meet your bride as Lord Worthington and not as Adam Wheeler?"

  Thomas stopped and stood still, facing his friend. "If I go to the ball, or anywhere else in search of a suitable wife, all I will see is a pack of bright little birds preening in front of me and pretending to be perfect. There is scarcely any way to tell one from another.

  "And Simon – my friend – surely, if anyone should understand why a man would hide his fortune when seeking a bride, it is you."

  Simon looked down as though defeated and nodded. "I cannot argue with that."

  Thomas smiled at him. "Come with me, back inside the barn. I have something else to show you."

  Together, they walked into the cool dimness of the high-ceilinged stone barn, and entered the open space near the front, which contained a line of vehicles.

  "Take your pick," said Thomas. "There is a Stanhope gig. There is my very fast phaeton. And here is the new landau."

  The Stanhope had only two very high wheels, and some liked it for its stability, though it had little room. The phaeton had four wheels – two smaller ones in the front and two larger ones behind – and was also very small, since it was built for speed.

  But the new black landau, bright with brass trim, was large enough for at least six people to sit face-to-face in the back and had a separate high box on the front where the driver would sit.

  "Beatrice will love this," Simon remarked. "But then I will hear of nothing else except that I must get one, too."

  Thomas walked across the aisleway to the stalls. "Do you think she will like these two? Norfolk Trotters, both of them. Full brothers and just arrived last week, along with Blackcap."

  The animals were coal black and powerful, and almost as tall as Blackcap. "Raven and Starling," said Thomas. "A better match you'll never find. About the only way to tell them apart is by the few white hairs on Starling's forehead. Aside from that, they are both solid black."

  "Beautiful indeed," agreed Simon, peering into the stalls. "And yes, I think Beatrice will be so taken with such a fine turnout – a new landau and a perfectly matched pair – that she will have eyes for little else."

  "I hope that she feels a great sense of importance in representing both Feathering Park and Worthington for the evening," said Thomas. "I’m sure that will keep her attention well away from her driver."

  "You’re probably right. But Beatrice has the sharpest eye of anyone I've ever known. Are you sure you can expect to fool her, if you are going to drive us? Not too many men are as tall as you are, or carry themselves as proudly. Can you change your height? The way you walk? The way you command respect from all around you – and pass for a mere servant?"

  Thomas just grinned at him. "If there is one thing I know, my friend, it is that people see what they expect to see. No one will expect to see Earl Worthington in coachman's livery, driving a carriage on the night of the first assembly ball to be held in years. So – they won't."

  "I will tell you," said Simon, "that if you can fool Beatrice, I think you can fool anyone."

  "I'll take that bet," said Thomas, laughing. "If I can drive the two of you to Birdwell without her ever dreaming that I am at the reins, then will you believe that this may work?"

  "Then, I will believe you," said Simon. "I warn you, though, that she has the sharpest eyes of any woman I have ever known. If she finds out that you have played what she considers to be a jape on her on the night of the ball, I don't want to think about what she will do – especially if she suspects that I knew about it and she did not."

  "Hmm," said Thomas, eyeing his friend carefully. "It sounds extremely dangerous. Are you sure you have the courage to go through with it?"

  "Well – I – " Simon hesitated, but then saw that Thomas could hardly keep from laughing.

  "All right, then. You laugh," he said, turning away and walking towards the door of the barn. "But truly, I don’t know what do to. She’s changed so much since I first knew her – almost like a different person entirely. I don’t want to live the rest of my life this way, but what else will I do?"

  "There are men who simply take comfort elsewhere," Thomas said bluntly. "No one will talk about it, of course. But it is the way many men live. Most consider it normal, as long as it’s all done behind closed doors."

  His friend stopped in the doorway of the barn and sighed. "I know they do. But I did not want to resort to that. You see, I – I – "

  "Oh, my poor friend," Thomas whispered. "You love her, don't you?"

  "I do," Simon answered, his voice bitter. "I do love her, for all that means to her. That is why I have no wish to – to 'seek comfort elsewhere,' as you said, if there is any hope of changing her.

  "That’s also why I will never strike her, as so many advise me to do. No
r will I withhold food or comforts in an effort to bend her to my will."

  "I can agree with you there, in all seriousness," Thomas said. "Even if you could tame her that way, do you really want a woman who is only docile if she is beaten, frightened, or starving?"

  "Of course not. I’d hoped to have a wife who would be something of a companion at the end of the day. That doesn’t sound like the way to get one."

  "I'm sure it’s not. I'm afraid I have no other answer for you right now. But if nothing else, Beatrice will let us know whether or not my disguise is effective."

  "You can count on that," said Simon, and both of them laughed.