Embracing The Earl Read online

  Embracing the Earl

  The St. Clairs

  Book 3

  Alexa Aston

  Copyright © 2019 by Alexa Aston

  Kindle Edition

  Published by Dragonblade Publishing, an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Books from Dragonblade Publishing

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Prologue

  London—February, 1812

  Lady Caroline Andrews helped her mother into their London townhome. Though she’d recently turned forty, the Countess of Templeton moved as if she were eighty. Ill health and losing her younger daughter had aged her overnight.

  “Mama, let’s go upstairs. I’ll have tea brought up to warm us.”

  The blustery winter day had chilled Caroline to the point her teeth chattered during the entire graveside service for her sister.

  “No. Nothing for me,” her mother said wearily. “I just want my bed.” She leaned heavily into her only child.

  “Of course.”

  By now, the countess was on the verge of collapse. Caroline motioned to their butler to join them since her father had already passed them by without a backward glance and gone into his study. The Earl of Templeton had a marked disdain for any kind of weakness or illness and obviously couldn’t be bothered to aid his grieving wife.

  “Stinch will help get you up the stairs, Mama.”

  The butler took the countess in hand and between the two of them, they were able to get her upstairs, where her lady’s maid anxiously awaited. The countess slumped in a chair, sobbing.

  “Have tea sen
t up, Stinch,” Caroline said quietly and watched the butler slip from the room.

  She took out a night rail for her mother as the maid undressed her mistress. It took both women to dress the countess and get her into bed. By then, the tea had arrived and Caroline insisted her mother drink some. After only a few sips, she pushed it away.

  “Give me some laudanum.”

  Reluctantly, Caroline nodded and the maid slipped from the room. She thought her mother took too much of it, which was why it was now kept under lock and key.

  “It will be here soon,” she said soothingly, stroking her mother’s hair, noticing the gray was starting to dominate the fading, blond locks.

  “What will I do without Cynthia?” her mother wailed, dissolving into fresh tears.

  She had no reply.

  Her sister had always been delicate in health, favoring her mother in that respect. Caroline had the hardier constitution of their father, along with his caramel-colored hair that was streaked with blond highlights throughout the brown. She did resemble her mother some, with the same warm, brown eyes and porcelain skin, as well as having her ample bosom.

  “Please, Mama. Try not to weep. It won’t bring Cynthia back and it upsets you so.”

  She took a handkerchief and wiped away her mother’s tears. Caroline had already cried ones of her own when her sister passed two days ago—on Caroline’s birthday. She doubted she could ever celebrate the day of her birth again with any joy, knowing she was alive while Cynthia lay cold in her grave.

  The last year had been emotionally draining, especially because the two sisters had been so close. They were eleven months apart in age and had always been the best of friends. Caroline even delayed her come-out, choosing to make her debut with Cynthia when she turned eighteen. Instead of the two girls dancing at balls and attending the opera and garden parties last spring and summer, Caroline had been nursing her sick sister. Always frail, Cynthia had begun having trouble breathing and could only walk a few paces without tiring. Their physician had diagnosed a faulty heart and told them it was only a matter of time before Cynthia succumbed.

  Her sister encouraged Caroline to go ahead with the come-out since she was already nineteen and a year older than most girls who made their debut, but she’d resisted, staying home to care for Cynthia and spend as much time with her as she could. Papa refused to be around her, claiming it ate at him to see his younger daughter wasting away. Caroline supposed that was also his excuse for ignoring Mama all these years since she, too, was frail. It had fallen to Caroline to nurse Cynthia.

  And now she was gone.

  The maid returned with the laudanum and Caroline gave her mother the dose that would put her to sleep for the rest of the afternoon and most likely until tomorrow morning. She sat holding her mother’s hand until the countess closed her eyes and her breathing evened out.

  “Stay with her,” she instructed the maid.

  She poured herself a cup from the teapot and took it with her. The tea took some of the chill from her body but nothing could comfort her soul at the loss she’d suffered. For the last month, a piece of her had died every time she looked at her sister and saw how she slipped further and further away each day. She believed now that Cynthia was gone, the same would happen with her mother. Mama was already so weak in body and spirit. It wouldn’t surprise her if Mama simply lost the will to live.

  As she reached her bedchamber, she heard a voice call her name and saw Stinch coming toward her.

  “The earl wishes to speak with you, Lady Caroline. He’s in his study.”

  A confrontation with her father was the last thing she wanted. She knew exactly why he wanted to see her—and would resist what he had to say.

  “Thank you, Stinch.”

  The butler’s eyes misted over. “We are all sorry for your loss, my lady. Lady Cynthia was always kind to the staff. She will be missed.”

  “Thank you.” She stiffened her spine and handed him the half-drunk cup of tea. “Would you see this back to the kitchen?”

  Caroline walked resolutely to her father’s study. She knocked and was bidden to enter.

  He sat in his favorite chair, a crystal tumbler of brandy in his hand. She remembered in her youth thinking him handsome but not anymore. Drink and too many late nights at the gaming tables and with his various mistresses had etched deep lines into his face.

  “Sit,” he commanded.

  She did and decided he would need to make the first move in their verbal chess game. When she remained mute, he finally spoke.

  “You are now twenty, Caroline.”

  “I am aware of my age, Papa. Cynthia passed on my birthday two days ago.”

  He winced slightly and she mentally awarded herself the first point.

  “You delayed your come-out so you could do so with your sister. That did not occur last spring because of her infirmity. This year’s Season will start in a little over two months’ time. I want you to be ready for it. It’s time you got yourself a husband, Caroline, though at your advanced age you won’t have as great a selection as most women.”

  Score one for the earl.

  “I don’t plan to take part in the upcoming Season, Papa. I will be in mourning. It would be inappropriate for me to be seen dancing when I’ve recently lost my beloved sister.”

  Two for her.

  He frowned. When he saw she wasn’t moved by his disapproval, the frown morphed into a glare. “I was afraid you’d say that. I suppose I’ll give you another choice.”

  “My only choice is to mourn, Papa.”

  “You do love your mother?” he asked.

  “Of course.” She wanted to ask if he loved his wife but kept quiet. “What has that to do with anything?”

  “Your mother is not well. She has always been fragile, even as a girl. When I married her, I’d hoped for sons and only got two daughters off her. After that, the doctors said more children weren’t possible.”

  Caroline had always wondered why no other babies came after her and Cynthia. Knowing her father, he must have hated his wife for not providing an heir.

  She remained silent, so he continued. “Losing Cynthia has been hard on her.”

  Naturally, it had been hard on her mother. It was hard on Caroline, too. The only one who didn’t seem to care one whit was her father.

  “Because of that, I think she needs a change of scenery.”

  Would her father send them to the country? They rarely went to their country estate. He adored life in London, with his mistresses and gambling and friends. She looked blankly at him, as if she didn’t know what he was about to do. He was going to dump them in the country. Who knew how long they would be there before he would remember he had a wife and a daughter? Her anger stirred and she tamped it down, unwilling for him to see he’d gotten under her skin.

  “Knowing you would reject the Season, I’ve already made arrangements for you to go to America.”

  “What?” she cried. “Why on earth would you send Mama and me there?”

  “Your aunt lives there. My sister.”

  Caroline was baffled. “I’ve never heard you mention a sister. Why?”

  He shrugged. “Because I disowned her years ago.”

  “I’m sure she displeased you,” she snapped.

  His eyes narrowed at her words. “Evangeline disgraced the Andrews’ family name. Instead of wedding the viscount she was engaged to, she eloped with an American sea captain.”

  She’d never heard any of this—and she’d listened to servants gossiping her entire life, learning early that eavesdropping had its benefits.

  “Evangeline presented him to me. I told her how she’d embarrassed herself and humiliated me. The ton is an unforgiving lot. She would never be accepted in Polite Society again. I told her I never wanted to see her again. She abruptly left for America after that.”

  Caroline already liked this aunt a great deal.

  “She wrote to me recently, however. Her husband is now dead. Though I would never a
ccept her back into my household, she did know of you and Cynthia. Evangeline left with her husband just after Cynthia’s birth. I told her you—and your mother—might come to visit her in Boston.”

  Excitement filled her. She’d barely been outside of London, much less beyond England’s borders. The chance to go to America and meet this blood relative who’d stood up to her father appealed to Caroline greatly. Still, she kept her features composed, not wanting the father whom she once did everything to impress to know her true feelings.

  “Those are your choices,” he said firmly. “Either take part in the upcoming Season when April arrives or journey to America with your mother and spend a few months getting to know your aunt.”

  She wouldn’t dishonor Cynthia’s memory by refusing to mourn her sister.

  “It looks as if Mama and I will be visiting Boston,” Caroline proclaimed.

  Chapter One

  Boston—February, 1815

  Caroline finished dressing and went downstairs where her usual tea and toast awaited her.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Johnson. How is today’s weather?”

  “Frigid,” the housekeeper replied tersely. “Tippet did his business and raced back in.”

  She seated herself and the dog left his spot next to the fire to come close in order for Caroline to pet him. She stroked his shiny, black fur and the dog sighed in contentment before curling up partly atop her feet.

  Pouring herself a cup of tea, she added one lump of sugar and a splash of cream before stirring. Mrs. Johnson sat opposite her and did the same. Both women spread jam on their toast.

  Sometimes, Caroline still marveled at how different America was. The thought of one of their servants in London sitting down and eating breakfast with her would have been laughable, yet here in Boston it was not only accepted but encouraged. She wasn’t called Lady Caroline by anyone. Friends of all ages referred to her as Caroline, while she introduced herself to strangers as Miss Andrews. Being a loyal subject of England’s king was frowned upon, especially since the United States was at war again with its former Mother Country.

  At first, she’d resented being in Boston. Though she’d taken to Aunt Evie immediately, Caroline’s mother hadn’t fared well on the eight-week transatlantic crossing and she’d died at the end of April, only two weeks after they’d arrived from England. Already grieving her sister’s passing, Caroline had to deal with losing her mother, as well. Aunt Evie had been her saving grace, instantly becoming family and close friend in the following weeks. Evie was kind, comforting, and yet no-nonsense all rolled into one. Caroline supposed her aunt had learned to be self-sufficient in the four years since her husband’s death. They’d had no children and Evie had to look after herself.