To Be Loved By The Earl: A Regency Novella Read online

  TO BE LOVED BY THE EARL

  To Be Loved By the Earl

  A Regency Novella

  Kasey Stockton

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Kasey Stockton

  Cover design by Blue Water Books

  First print edition: June 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations for the purpose of a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Also by Kasey Stockton

  About the Author

  For those who give selflessly; the purest form of love.

  Chapter 1

  Coriander Miranda Featherbottom held a breath of air hostage in her lungs while her fingers curled tightly around each other in her lap. She counted to ten; then she counted backward. The focus it took to hold her breath muted her mother’s high-pitched droning into a softer whine. She absently watched her mother’s mouth moving until tiny black spots pricked her outer vision and she released the captive air, resuming her breathing and regaining a sense of composure.

  That was close. Next time she’d need to be sure not to hold her breath quite so long. It would never do to faint with company present.

  Quiet fell over the room and Cori glanced at her mother’s eyes which were now locked on her. She sat up straighter—if that was even possible—and watched her mother’s head cock slightly to the side as her eyebrows went up expectantly. Oh, no. They’d asked her a question.

  “I am sorry, Mama, I wasn’t attending,” Cori said softly, delivering a smile she hoped was apologetic.

  “Quite so,” Rosemary muttered from the chair beside her. Cori stifled the urge to kick her sister’s shin and broadened her smile until her cheeks grew sore.

  “I was only just mentioning to Lady Berwind here that you would be perfectly happy to visit Windfall’s dower house on Monday next and ensure her mother-in-law is settled.”

  Cori refrained from glancing at her older sister as she said, “Indeed, ma’am. I should be delighted.”

  “That is settled, then.” Lady Berwind hefted herself up, heedless of the small dog settled on her lap. He woke and landed on his tiny feet in one motion, obediently remaining near his mistress. “It sets my mind at ease to know my dear mama-in-law shall be watched over in my absence.”

  Cori suppressed a snort and smiled at the regal marchioness while her mother and sister bid her farewell and a safe journey to Town. She was more likely seething that her mama-in-law should deign to move into the dower house after vulgarly living abroad and was conveniently making her own self scarce to avoid the ghastly woman.

  The room remained quiet as they listened to Lady Berwind’s carriage door close, followed by the clip-clop of the horses hooves as they removed her from the Featherbottom’s drive. When she was finally gone, they let out a collective sigh.

  “I should think,” Cori ventured cautiously, “perhaps Rose would have been better suited for the task. It is she that hopes to join their family, after all.”

  “Quite so,” Mama answered; her gaze swung from Cori’s plain face to that of her radiant sister. “But Rose will be better equipped to secure Lord Arnett in the drawing rooms of London. No need to leave her here, cozying up to the man’s grandmama.”

  “What? You’re to go to London?” Cori protested, though she hardly knew why she bothered. It would only be natural for her mother to take her older sister to London and leave her quite alone at home again.

  “Cori,” Mama said in exasperation, “Shall you never listen? I was just mentioning to the marchioness that we leave for London on the morrow. Mourning has quite delayed Rosemary’s return to society long enough, I should think, and it is time to reintroduce her to the ton.”

  “But what about me?” Cori winced at the whine in her voice, but Lady Berwind was gone, and therefore her composure need not be absolutely perfect.

  “You will have your turn,” Mama said, standing, “after Rose is married to Lord Arnett.” She gave Rosemary a telling look. “Once Rose secures her place in the Arnett family, then doors will open to you that otherwise would be unobtainable. Just remain patient.”

  Rosemary stood and gracefully followed her mother from the room, tossing a careless look over her shoulder. Cori listened to their conversation drift away, discussing which gowns to have packed and what they should venture to purchase on arrival in Town. She sank further in her chair, abandoning her ladylike composure.

  Drat her distraction! If only she had listened earlier to Lady Berwind, she would have heard exactly what had happened. Lady Berwind must have announced a plan to retire to London for the Season, prompting Cori’s own mother to mimic the plan. If history were any indication, both women pretended they’d had just such a decision in mind all along. And perhaps Lady Berwind did—she’d likely planned her departure as soon as she heard her mother-in-law was set to take up residence. But Cori’s mother and Rosemary were still weeks away from their originally scheduled departure.

  Cori huffed. To follow Lady Berwind to London just so Rosemary could ensnare her son, and the future Marquess, Lord Arnett, felt ridiculous. But then, maybe Cori would feel differently if she wasn’t being left behind.

  Mmmmm. Cori let out a delicious sigh. Lord Arnett. Undoubtedly the most handsome man she had ever met. The red-headed earl was a tall man with kind eyes and had been Cori’s closest neighbor for all of her life. Close in proximity, but remote in every other regard. His younger brother, Lord Travis, had been her tree climbing companion for many of her younger years, but since he’d set off for school at the age of twelve, she rarely saw him.

  Once when Cori was eleven or so, Lord Arnett had come upon her and Travis in the woods behind Windfall, the Arnett family home. Travis had been showing off, swinging from a low branch, certainly not high enough for any major injury should he fall. Still, when he tumbled to the ground, Lord Arnett had run to his brother’s side, shouting at Cori to retrieve help at once. She’d obeyed, the command impossible to refuse, but not before catching fear and concern lace the features of Lord Arnett as he looked over his younger brother’s swollen ankle. His consideration had struck a chord within Cori then, and developed into an admiration that filled her young, inexperienced heart.

  Lord Arnett must have returned from his time abroad in Italy to spend the Season in London, or so Cori assumed. Otherwise, Mama surely would not find it necessary to grace London with her own presence. With five children to care for—four of whom had the audacity to be girls and thus required marrying off—Mama did not take herself off to London for any small reason.

  Cori stood and stretched out her weary arms, considering her situation. Perhaps it would’ve been different had she been born a beauty like her sister. She’d done all she could to remain out of the sun, but some freckles did not require sunlight to appear. Her nose was straight and nondescript, her face oval. She was neither thin nor plump; not tall and certainl
y not short. Coriander Featherbottom was unremarkably ordinary.

  She did, however, possess two distinct features she secretly hoped balanced the scales a smidge in her own favor. Her eyebrows held a sleek, dark arch that perfectly framed her eyes, and her eyelashes were naturally long and curly. They had the appearance of being darkened with kohl without actually needing to use the cosmetic. She was not delusional, however, and knew that obtaining a husband would be infinitely easier once her tall, elegant sister married Lord Arnett, and Cori’s social status rose accordingly. Her own dowry was just like everything else in her life and person, it was also quite average.

  She listened to the thumping and banging of rushed packing taking place upstairs while Mama and Rosemary prepared for their trip. Papa, no doubt, would be taken along to Town, for he was quite in love with his overbearing wife and oddly wished to be with her nearly always. As focused as he was on Mrs. Featherbottom’s happiness, Mrs. Featherbottom reserved her attentions for their children—or, more accurately, on securing their children’s place in the world.

  Cori grumbled. She understood why she should be left behind. She was rather useless when it came to husband hunting. But that did not make it any easier to bear. Still, someone did need to stay and watch over her youngest two sisters. The gap being rather large between Basil, Cori’s younger brother, and Meg and Marjie, it often fell to Cori to see to the girl’s needs when their mother was absent from home.

  Determined to think no more on the matter, Cori escaped to the stables and her mare, Chance. She wasn’t dressed for riding, but she hardly cared. After a stable hand readied Chance, she took off, urging her horse into a gallop the moment they hit the open fields. The wind streaming in her hair and the feel of bunched muscles beneath her were as familiar as her own skin, and Cori breathed as one with Chance; for a moment it felt as though they even outran her insecurities.

  Her mind conjured up the last glimpse she’d had of Lord Arnett when he took leave of her father a year prior, before setting off for Italy. She had watched from the upper gallery in her home while he spoke to Mr. Featherbottom about some gentlemanly pursuit. He had rubbed the back of his neck continually, as though plagued with anxiety or unease or some such feeling, and she’d longed to go down and soothe him, to discover the cause of his edginess. Instead, she’d watched Rosemary approach him; he had visibly stiffened, taking his leave shortly after their brief conversation. What Cori still did not understand was the intense look in his eye when he’d said farewell to Rose.

  Kicking her heel into the side of her brown mare, Cori leaned forward, urging her horse toward a row of hedges. Taking the jump in stride, she soaked in the feeling of flying. There was one place she did not compete and lose against her older, perfect sister: on horseback. Perhaps that was why she loved it so.

  Turning Chance around, she caught another hedge in her peripheral. Papa said it was too high, but nevermind that. He was simply being cautious. He just didn’t have enough faith in her.

  No one did.

  Fire started in Cori’s breast and burned until she turned Chance. Gaining speed, she approached the hedge quickly. Faster, in fact, than she had anticipated. At the last second, she balked. Pulling up on Chance’s reigns with all of the strength she possessed, she turned the horse and continued to gallop alongside the row of hedges.

  Her body filled with anger; at her father for doubting her, but more for doubting herself. She rode Chance long and hard until the anger dissipated into a faint irritation. It was not until they returned to the stables that she noticed her horse gleaming with sweat and panting. Immediate regret touched her heart and she walked Chance into her stall herself after the sidesaddle was removed. She brushed the mare and fed her a bag of oats, murmuring words of apology as she soothed the overworked beast.

  The sun was low in the sky by the time she returned home and dressed for dinner. She made it through the meal listening to Mama and Rosemary discuss their last-minute preparations for travel. She swallowed the indignation she felt whenever one of them mentioned London.

  She reminded herself that when Rosemary married Lord Arnett, it would benefit Cori. She would have to get over her childhood infatuation if she was ever to accept Lord Arnett as a brother. But she would, eventually. It was only a small tendre, after all.

  The following morning, she stood at the window and watched the carriage drive away carrying Rosemary and her parents. They planned on surprising her brother, Basil, at the London townhouse; Cori did not envy that reunion. He would be furious to be so set upon, but no one foresaw as much except her. She thought about trying to warn her family, but there was no point. None of them would have listened anyway.

  A slow sigh escaped Cori’s lips, tension leaving her shoulders. There was one benefit to being left behind: freedom.

  Cori turned away from the window and climbed the stairs to the schoolroom. Maybe Meg and Marjie would want to spend the morning outside.

  Chapter 2

  “The post, Miss Cori.” Harvey held out a silver platter with a single sealed missive resting in its center. Cori retrieved the letter and thanked the butler before slicing open the waxed seal with her penknife and unfolding the creased paper. She skimmed the note before relaying its finer points to her sister, Meg.

  “Basil is none too pleased at being ‘ambushed,’ as he says it.”

  Meg smiled. “I do not understand our brother. Shouldn’t he be happy to receive Mama and Papa? He’s living in their townhouse, after all.” At thirteen, Meg could be profoundly wise at times.

  “But we know Basil, don’t we? They’ve never gotten on.”

  Meg sighed. “When shall we expect him?”

  Cori looked sharply at her sister. Just as she thought—quite wise indeed. “Within a few days, I imagine.”

  Meg nodded before returning to her book.

  “He doesn’t own as much in his letter,” Cori continued, “but I’m sure he is coming out of spite. He hardly graces us with his presence the whole year round, but when Mama expects his help squiring Rose about Town, he’s suddenly yearning for his country home? Too convenient, if you ask me.”

  “Perhaps it is just as well no one has asked you,” Meg said into her book. Cori shot her a wry smile and took a moment to watch her little sister. Though opposite in every other regard, Meg was growing more like Rosemary in appearance every day. Both Meg and Marjie shared Rosemary’s fair hair and porcelain complexion, and the three of them laid claim to clear blue eyes that matched Basil’s exactly. The younger girls had yet to grow into their own completely, but it was apparent they would take after Basil and Rosemary in their tall willowy frames, too.

  If not for the direct likeness Cori shared with her mother, she would believe herself adopted.

  “Do you think Rosemary will have any luck with Lord Arnett?”

  Cori whipped her head around so quickly she heard a slight pop. “Pardon me?”

  Meg was still looking down at her book, a small smile gracing her lips. “After what she did to him, I would be quite shocked to hear of an immediate betrothal.”

  “I cannot understand you, sister. Rosemary could have any man she chooses. She’ll have her pick just like she did the first time around.”

  “If you are talking about her betrothal to Lord Hammond, then so am I.”

  “You are speaking in riddles,” Cori said, suddenly annoyed. “It is only you and I in this room, I beg you will speak plainly. What have you overheard?”

  Meg closed her book and looked up at her sister with deliberate care. “Rose trailed many suitors along after her first season, and even more after her second. I have overheard nothing particular, but I believe Lord Arnett thought himself quite above the rest when she shocked us all and accepted Lord Hammond’s suit.”

  “I do not believe it was quite that big of a shock, Meg. Hammond was a duke.”

  Was. The man died not three months into their betrothal, leaving Rose to go into mourning and throwing her back into the market, so to
speak, without even the benefit of his title.

  Meg said, “Perhaps Lord Arnett was in love with Rose, and thought she returned the sentiment.”

  Cori ruminated over this. No doubt Lord Arnett had been in love with Rosemary. He was not only among her more ardent admirers, but he took himself off to the continent only a few weeks after her announced betrothal to the duke, and remained there for just over a year. Surely he had been mending a broken heart. But now he was back in London, and Rosemary as well, with the late Lord Hammond decidedly out of the picture. A betrothal between them was imminent. It had to be.

  “Shall we place a wager?” Meg asked with uncharacteristic glee. “I can see you doubt me. I shall bet you your jonquil evening gown that Arnett does not offer for Rose.”

  “How very unladylike, Meg,” Cori said, feigning disbelief. She smiled slowly and added, “I accept.”

  Basil arrived that evening, shocking his sisters by both his swiftness and his audacity; he arrived with not one friend in tow, but three.

  “A hunting party?” Cori tried to keep her voice calm. Basil had deposited his friends in the drawing room before seeking her out for a private word.

  His grin was sheepish. “It is my home too, Cori. Besides, they aren’t staying here. They’ll sleep at the inn.”

  She tried to slow her growing irritation. “You will be dining with them at the inn, as well? They cannot be here, Basil. Mama would not abide it.”

  “I will, in future,” he said, unrepentant. “I’ve already promised them a meal tonight.”