To Heal an Earl Read online

  She’d always had a calm, practical nature, though. Right now, she knew she should pack. It must be light enough for her to carry for she wouldn’t have servants with her or coin to spare for others to transport her trunks. She opened her wardrobe and glanced through the dresses. Unfortunately, she only had a few and those were worn. Living in the country, she hadn’t dressed up much, especially since she wasn’t out in society yet. Papa had promised her an entire new wardrobe for the upcoming Season but she was to be fitted for it next week after they went to London. Who would have thought Charlotte would be arriving in the great city without her beloved father?

  A footman brought her a valise and she packed three dresses into it, along with a spare pair of shoes and a night rail. She would place her comb and brush in it tomorrow. She went to the tray of food and forced herself to eat all that remained. She might not have the opportunity to do so in the morning since she needed to be in the village very early, waiting for the mail coach to arrive.

  Charlotte lay on her bed, curled on her side, and cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Oxford—1803

  Danforth Grayson threw off his gown of colored silk and cap with its gold tuft, marking him as a Nobleman Commoner. His days at university had come to an end. What awaited him, he hadn’t a clue. What he wanted more than anything was to have his brother purchase him a commission in the army. With England recently declaring war against France, Gray wanted to fight for his country against the threat Bonaparte posed.

  Whether he could wheedle the large amount necessary from Seymour remained to be seen.

  As it was, Gray had to fight his brother to release the funds to finish his schooling at Eton and then did battle again with Seymour in order to attend Oxford the past few years. Fortunately, Mr. Bonham, the Grayson family solicitor, had seen the tuition money earmarked for Gray’s education spent in the proper places after the Earl of Crampton died five years ago. Thoughts of his father’s death still left a bad taste in Gray’s mouth. He’d arrived home from Eton after the Michaelmas term at sixteen to learn his father had passed away more than a month earlier. His brother had assumed the title, never bothering to notify Gray of what had occurred.

  Gray had never forgiven Seymour for keeping him from their father’s funeral and the chance to bid the old man goodbye. They’d had a huge row, with Gray proclaiming he’d never darken Gray Manor again. And he hadn’t.

  Until now.

  He’d written his brother, letting him know he was about to earn his degree and that he would arrive home for a short visit. As a second son, Gray was destined for the army and only hoped the earl would provide the funds for him to purchase an army commission. It would be impossible to do so on his own. Despite Mr. Bonham’s help, the monies the solicitor had freed up so that Gray could finish Eton and continue on to Oxford hadn’t been enough to survive on. He’d had to take on tutoring other students in languages and mathematics in order to eat and afford living space.

  Of course, his closest friends in the world wouldn’t have seen him cast out on the street or let him starve. He’d shared rooms with Reid Baker, Marquess of Medford, and Burke Nicholson their entire time at Oxford. Reid was always quick to accept any bill when they were at a pub and both he and Burke would offer Gray their castoff clothing, many times the items still in excellent shape, all so he would be adequately clothed. The two men had been his friends since they’d begun their schooling at Eton at seven years of age and were more brothers to him than Seymour ever had been.

  Reid was a natural leader. Intelligent. Practical. Friendly to all without making many close friends. Every boy at Eton wanted to be on the pedestal Medford stood upon, admired by all for his strength and loyalty. Gray had gone home with Reid during many a holiday and was treated as family by the Duke of Gilford. Though the duke was against it and few peers of Reid’s standing entered the army, his friend would be doing that very thing after a brief visit home.

  Burke would also be joining the army. A third son destined for the church, Burke was a hellion. He went out of his way to ensure that his family wouldn’t force him into the clergy and had long proclaimed he would make a career of the military. Burke was all charm and full of fun. Women wanted him. Men wanted to be him.

  Gray couldn’t have asked for better friends and hoped they would remain close for years to come.

  He glanced at the small table where they always left a sheet of parchment in order to communicate with one another, reading the last line written by Burke. It told Gray to meet them at their favorite pub for a final meal in Oxford before they left in the morning for Kent. Reid had hired a chaise lounge to carry the three of them home. They would first drop Gray and then Burke before Reid made his way home to Gillingham.

  Exiting the rooms, he hurried down the stairs and out onto the busy streets of Oxford. He traveled the three blocks to his destination and ducked inside, immediately spying his friends. Burke caught his eye and hoisted a tankard, a huge grin on his face.

  “I see you’ve started without me,” Gray said as he joined them.

  “You’re only one drink behind,” Reid said, handing him an ale. He then held his tankard up. “To finishing our education—and friendship.”

  The three touched mugs and downed the cold brew. Gray wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand and they took their seats.

  “I’ve already ordered,” Reid said. “All of our favorites.”

  “Is she one of them?” Burke asked, indicating a buxom tavern wench who saw she was the object of their attention and gave the trio a saucy wink.

  “You’ll have to arrange that on your own,” Reid said. “After we dine.”

  They spent two hours eating and reminiscing about classes and professors and shared adventures throughout the years. People they’d known. Politics. Their love of horses and cards. Gray couldn’t help but think that a curtain was being drawn on this part of their lives as they stood on the precipice of the next chapter that would come, one where they would become responsible adults.

  He called for a final toast. “To Burke and Reid. My greatest friends and chief collaborators in mischief. You have stood by me as no others have in my darkest days. May we ever stay in touch and know we can call upon one another, in both good times and bad.”

  “Hear, hear,” the two said in unison and they drank their fill.

  *

  The coach turned down the lane. Gray’s stomach clenched, knowing he would soon see his brother again after five years of no contact.

  “It’s been a long time,” Reid said as he gazed out the window.

  Both his friends had been frequent visitors to Gray Manor during their early years. After his quarrel with Seymour, Gray had stayed with both of them during school holidays, trading off. He enjoyed Burke’s noisy household, with two older brothers and four younger sisters but found going to Gillingham a nice respite, as well. Reid’s young stepmother, only a year older than they were, had two small boys still in the nursery, so a quieter time was had when visiting there.

  The vehicle pulled up to the manor and came to a stop. Gray steeled himself.

  “Are you sure you don’t want us to come in with you?” Reid asked, his brown eyes full of concern.

  “I’d be happy to slam a fist into Stinkin’ Seymour’s nose,” Burke offered.

  They laughed at the nickname Burke had given the Earl of Crampton many years ago.

  “No, I should do this alone. I doubt I’ll be welcomed so I know the two of you wouldn’t be,” he replied.

  “Why does Stinkin’ Seymour hate you so much?” Burke asked. “In all these years, we’ve never talked about it.”

  Gray shrugged. “Father told me the best he could guess was that Seymour blamed me for Mother’s death. They’d always been especially close and after she died giving birth to me, Seymour took her death hard, blaming me for it.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Reid said. “What was he, sixteen? I’m not saying he shouldn’
t mourn a mother he was close to but to blame her death on a newborn—and hold it against you all of these years? He was old enough to know better. Death in childbirth is but a fact of life.”

  “Stinkin’ Seymour is a bloody idiot,” Burke proclaimed. “We’ve always known that.”

  “Thank you both,” Gray said. “I don’t look at Seymour as my brother. That’s a role the two of you play, not brothers by blood but ones by choice. But it’s time I faced him after all these years.”

  Reid stopped him from rising. “If Crampton won’t give you adequate funds to purchase your commission, Gray, I will. Or Father would be happy to do so. You know how he admires you. You could pay us back.”

  Gratitude at the offer filled Gray. “I know and I’m thankful for that option. I hope it doesn’t come to that. Commissions are expensive and it would take years of an officer’s pay to fulfill that debt to you or the duke.”

  He opened the coach door and jumped to the ground. “If I turn up at either of your doorsteps, you’ll know things went poorly.”

  With that, he slammed the vehicle’s door and stepped aside. The driver removed Gray’s portmanteau from the top of the carriage and tossed it down to him. He caught it and watched as his friends waved from the window and the coach returned down the lane. Squaring his shoulders, he went to the front door and knocked.

  When the door opened, it was Masters who greeted him, beaming from ear to ear. The longtime retainer had been a footman doing Gray’s early years and then had moved into the role of butler about ten years ago.

  “Master Gray, how good it is to finally see you again.”

  He shook hands with Masters. “Is that gray hair I spy along your temples?”

  The butler laughed. “It is, indeed, sir. Just a touch of it. Do come in.”

  Masters took the suitcase from Gray and ushered him inside. He looked around the foyer and saw that nothing had changed. It was as if he had left only yesterday.

  “Is the earl in residence?” he asked.

  “He is,” the butler confirmed. “Your carriage was spotted and he’s received word that you’re arriving. He asked to see you immediately.”

  Gray didn’t know whether that was good or bad.

  Suddenly, movement caught his eyes and he turned as a young boy ran up to him.

  “Is this my uncle?” the frail child asked, his eyes large, shadows under them.

  “If you are Rodger, then yes, I am your Uncle Gray. I haven’t seen you since I held you in my arms. As I remember, you tinkled all over me,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “I did? You held me? I didn’t know you were ever here.”

  “I was. And you did,” Gray confirmed. “How are you, Rodger?” He offered the boy his hand and they shook.

  “Very well, sir.” He thought a moment. “Oh, you won’t know about my sisters. I have two.”

  “What are their names?”

  “Harriet is three. The baby is Jane. She was a year old last week.”

  Gray couldn’t help but like this bright, eager boy and wished he would be able to get to know him and his two nieces. It would all be up to Seymour, though.

  Suddenly, Rodger began wheezing and placed his hands on his knees, leaning over.

  Gray’s gaze met Masters and the butler mouthed, “Asthma.”

  He thumped the boy on his back lightly and after a few minutes, the fit seemed to pass.

  “My lord, you should return to the nursery,” Masters suggested. “You know it does you no good to become excited. Your uncle is to see your father now.”

  “Must I, Masters?” Rodger pleaded. “I want to talk to Uncle Gray some more. I don’t know anything about him.”

  “Later, my lord,” the butler insisted.

  “Oh, all right.”

  Rodger reluctantly said goodbye and Gray watched his nephew trudge slowly up the stairs. Once he was out of sight, Gray turned and said, “How does Seymour handle the boy’s asthma?”

  “Not well,” the butler said succinctly. “His lordship has never had patience for weakness of any kind.”

  “And my nieces? I’m sure Seymour’s disappointed they’re girls.”

  The butler’s disdain was obvious but he remained silent on the matter. “We should go up to the drawing room, Master Gray.”

  Gray followed the servant upstairs and allowed Masters to announce him before he entered. The butler gave him a tight smile and a nod as he passed and closed the doors.

  He spotted his brother on the far side of the room, seated next to his wife on a settee, and went to join them. His brother would be thirty-eight now and looked every year of. He’d gone to fat and his thinning hair had already turned iron gray from the family’s chestnut shade.

  “Good day, Lord Crampton, Lady Crampton,” he said formally, knowing his brother enjoyed hearing his title. “I had a chance to speak with my nephew downstairs. He’s a fine little fellow.”

  His sister-in-law nodded politely and then her gaze returned to her lap. His brother’s face hardened.

  “Why are you here?” Seymour demanded. “I thought you’d cut us from your life.”

  Gray kept his temper. “I regret the harsh words between us years ago, my lord,” though he still felt his brother was at fault. “I was young and impetuous. I’d hope we could both be mature and set our issues aside.”

  “I won’t support you, Gray. You’re a second son and entitled to nothing,” Seymour said flatly. “But despite that, I will do my duty to you.”

  “And what is that?” he asked, on edge.

  “Father spoke of your desire to enter the military. Frankly, I think it’s the best place for you. You were a spoiled, difficult child and I doubt you’ve matured any, despite all of those years of schooling.”

  Gray held his tongue, not willing to risk what Seymour might do if he spoke out against him and tried to defend himself from his brother’s harsh opinion.

  The earl reached for a rolled parchment sitting on a nearby table and thrust it at him. “When you wrote that you were coming, I prepared for your arrival. I’ve purchased you a commission in the army. Be warned that it’s the last thing I’ll do for you. I want you out of our lives. If we’re lucky, some bloody French bastard will run a sword through you and gut you and you’ll never return home. If you do live, don’t bother to come to Gray Manor again for you won’t be welcomed.”

  He clutched the commission in his hand, fighting the rage that filled him with his brother’s cruel words.

  “I am grateful for this, Lord Crampton,” he said, holding tight on the reins of his temper. Though he had a thousand things he wished to say, Gray had gotten what he came for.

  He never needed to see his brother again.

  “Good day, Lady Crampton. My lord.”

  With that, Gray turned and strode from the room, leaving no regrets behind.

  Chapter Three

  Gray Manor—July 1808

  Charlotte glanced out the window, knowing Rumford Park would be visible from the road soon. The house sat at the end of a long lane which the mail coach would pass. She would have to squint but she knew the house would be there.

  She’d been gone from it eight years.

  A part of her wanted to be a poor match for the governess job she now headed to at Gray Manor, a place she’d visited a few times in her youth with her father. She remembered a boy close to her age, tall and friendly, with dark russet hair that shone red in the sunlight. Charlotte couldn’t remember his name but did recall he’d been kind to her. Boys that age usually weren’t nice to girls and his good manners had made a lasting impression on her. She wondered if that boy was now the Earl of Crampton, the gentleman she had scheduled an interview with. She vaguely thought there might have been an older brother but couldn’t picture him. If there had been, he would be the earl instead.

  The carriage came around the bend and, despite knowing how much it would hurt her heart, Charlotte looked wistfully at the beautiful manor home that stood in the distance as the ve
hicle passed by. Her throat grew thick with unshed tears, knowing she’d grown up at such an idyllic place. That she’d been an earl’s daughter, hoping to marry a gentleman, and raise her own family in a similar setting. Instead, Barclay had tossed her from her home and the only life she’d known when she was barely eighteen.

  Fate had led her to The Plummer Employment Agency, run by the whip-thin and bright-eyed Mr. Plummer, who placed impoverished gentlewomen in positions suitable to their backgrounds. Charlotte had thought her only choice would be to become a governess but Mr. Plummer insisted she travel to the far north to serve as a companion to the Dowager Duchess of Exbury. It had been the best place possible for her to heal from the emotional wounds inflicted by her half-brother. The duchess was in her late sixties and had lost her legs in an accident many years before. She possessed a fine mind and read voraciously. She’d taken to Charlotte immediately and they’d spent seven wonderful years together. Charlotte had become a part of the community, serving on church committees and singing in the local choir. She’d spent most every waking hour with the duchess—reading to her, discussing politics, pushing her in a wheelchair through the gardens. Bernice, as the duchess had Charlotte call her when they were alone, served as a grandmother to Charlotte. She still mourned for the friend she’d lost.

  Bernice left Charlotte a small amount of money, not enough to live on, but it allowed her to take her time before choosing her next position. Unfortunately, she’d been fired from it within two weeks. She adored the little girl who was her charge but the girl’s father had in mind for Charlotte to tutor him after hours in ways she found disgusting. When she refused to play his immoral games, she was sacked without references.

  Her most recent position had lasted eight months but she spent all of her time trying to avoid the master of the house. The viscount wasn’t in residence often but when he was, he made it abundantly clear that he was interested in her. He’d caught her several times, forcing unwanted kisses upon her, pressing his body against hers, his manhood jutting out. He told her of the things he wished to do to her in private, things that sounded so wicked and foul that they sickened her. Knowing the man planned to spend the entire summer at his country estate with his two small boys, Charlotte knew she wouldn’t remain a virgin if she stayed. She resigned abruptly, knowing once again that no reference would be forthcoming.