Midnight with the Marquess (The St. Clairs Book 2)

Book 2: The St. Clairs

by Alexa Aston

Genres: Regency Romance; historical romance; Regency romance; England; 1800s; romantic heroines historical; Marquess; The St Clairs

Synopsis

Can love heal a wounded army officer who doesn't believe it exists?

Lady Rachel St. Clair has witnessed how powerful love can be, thanks to the example her brother and wife set, and she won't settle for anything less. At a house party, Rachel meets an officer returning from the Peninsular War and believes she may have found love, thanks to their clandestine midnight lessons in kissing.

Major Evan Drake, Marquess of Merrick, witnessed his father murder his mother and believes love doesn't exist. He's returned from combat wounded in both body and soul. When he meets Rachel he changes his mind about love, drawn to the raven-haired beauty's spirit. Yet Rachel devastates him by rejecting him before he can declare his feelings for her, sending Evan into a downward spiral that almost ends in death.

Nursing her broken heart, Rachel continues her search for love the next Season, though her thoughts linger on those midnights with her marquess.

Will Evan be able to regain Rachel's trust—and open his heart to love?

Find the answer in bestselling author Alexa Aston's second book of The St. Clairs, Midnight with the Marquess.

Each book in The St. Clairs Trilogy is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order.

Series Order:
Book #1 Devoted to the Duke
Book #2 Midnight with the Marquess
Book #3 Embracing the Earl
Book #4 Defending the Duke
Book #5 Suddenly a St. Clair

Release date: May 23, 2019

Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.

Print pages: 250

Sample

PROLOGUE

Winwood, East Essex—1792

 

Evan Drake, Marquess of Merrick, awoke from a nightmare. He whimpered, feeling the damp sheets, knowing he’d wet the bed again. There’d be no keeping it from his father. A year ago, their butler had overheard an upstairs maid mention it. The butler had immediately informed the Duke of Winstead. His father now came to Evan’s room every morning before breakfast, regular as clockwork, to check if the bedsheets had been soiled.

If they had, the duke personally saw to his son’s beating each time.

Evan shivered as he got out of bed and found a clean nightshirt to wear. He stripped the sheets himself, wadding them up and setting them in a corner. He only wished he could wash and replace them before morning, which was impossible.

The nightmare still lingered, causing his heart to race. Even though he couldn’t remember what it was about, it would keep him from sleeping. He trembled, thinking of the beating to come. His thighs and buttocks were still sore from the one three days ago.

Why couldn’t he control his bladder? He was six. That was plenty old. Children younger than he did it every night. He worried about it constantly. He’d stopped drinking anything with his evening meal, hoping that would help. It hadn’t. His father had warned Evan that if he couldn’t get the situation under control, he wouldn’t be allowed to go off to school next year with his cousin. Not that he liked Laurence in the least bit. No one did. But he couldn’t imagine Laurence getting to go while he stayed home. And when he finally did go, Laurence would no doubt have told every boy in the school why Evan had been withheld from enrolling.

He couldn’t let that happen. He had to get away from Winwood.

Even if it meant leaving his mother.

Evan decided to go to her now. Glimpses of the nightmare still came in flashes, making his head pound. Mama would help soothe him. She always did.

He left his bedchamber and crept down the stairs, reaching his mother’s rooms without anyone seeing him. Evan didn’t bother to knock. He never did. Instead, he slipped into her bedroom and closed the door behind him.

The room stood empty, a single candle burning next to the bed. Evan knew it was late and wondered where she could be. Then he heard a door slam and raised voices coming his way. Fear gripped him. If his father caught him here, the beating would begin immediately. Over and over, he’d complained that Evan was too soft. That his mother coddled him too much.

Knowing he couldn’t reach the door in time, he dropped to the ground and slid under the bed. Moments later, two pairs of feet appeared as he peered out.

“You’re worthless! You disgust me. Another child lost.”

“Have you ever thought it might be you, Winstead? Maybe your seed is defective and that’s why no baby can grow inside me.”

A loud slap sounded. Evan cringed. He saw his mother had been knocked to her knees and crouched on all fours. She pushed herself upright and sat on the ground.

“Think about it,” she continued. “I lost two boys at six months. Another two were stillborn. I think something’s wrong with you.”

Evan shrank, knowing her words would cost her dearly. He closed his eyes as he heard the blows and her gasps. Then the bed above him sank and he figured his father had tossed her upon it.

“At least I have Evan, even if he is your spitting image and I’m reminded of that every time I look at him.”

“Have you ever thought he doesn’t resemble you for a reason?”

His eyes opened. He listened carefully. Something in his mother’s tone made him pay attention.

“What do you mean?” his father growled.

His feet were right next to Evan’s face. Suddenly, his mother’s bare feet joined them as he dragged her from the bed and across the room.

She laughed. It wasn’t her usual laugh, which was high and sweet. Mama laughed all the time when they were together. This laugh frightened him.

“Evan may be yours. Or not. When I couldn’t keep a child of yours, I looked elsewhere for satisfaction.”

He didn’t understand what Mama meant. He dared to look out from under the bed and saw his parents across the room. His father’s face held such anger that Evan knew something bad would now happen. He slammed his wife against the wall, his face inches from hers.

“Who? Who?” he demanded.

Mama didn’t look scared at all. Evan couldn’t understand it. She had to know the beating would get worse.

She smiled. “I’ll never tell, Winstead. You’ll go your whole life wondering if your title and lands will go to your son—or another man’s.”

Evan was supposed to be the next duke. That’s how it worked. He was the son. He couldn’t understand what Mama meant. He wondered if he should ask her.

A guttural sound came from his father, one that might come from some savage beast right before it attacked.

In that moment, Evan knew his father would kill her.

He wanted to slide out from under the bed. Go to her. Save her. Terror held him hostage, though, and he could only watch in horror.

His father punched Mama in the face several times. She only laughed, blood bubbling from her nose and mouth. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly. The laughter continued. Then his hands went around her throat and he began squeezing. She stopped laughing. Clawed at his face. Latched on to his wrists. Tried to pry his hands from her. His fingers tightened. The animal sounds came more harshly from him. Mama’s eyes bugged out. A noise emerged from her, so soft, yet unearthly. Her lips moved as if trying to speak but nothing came out.

Then her body slumped and she stared blankly—at her murderer.

His father released her and she fell to the ground. Evan pushed back under the bed, out of sight. He could see his father’s feet now, next to Mama’s lifeless body. He forced his fist into his mouth, trying to keep the wail from erupting. His body shook uncontrollably. He begged God to make him be still.

Because he didn’t want to die, too.

Evan heard the mattress sag again above him. His father’s feet moved about as he mumbled under his breath. Then he crossed the room to the door where Mama’s dressing room was. It connected to his father’s dressing room and bedchamber beyond.

He was going to leave her. Dead. In bed. Evan put both hands over his mouth to keep a scream from exploding.

“Whore. You got what you deserved.”

The door closed.

Evan waited, afraid his father would rush back in and jerk him out from under the bed. Tears spilled down his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, rocking.

After several minutes, he stilled. No one was coming back.

He had to see Mama.

He thrust himself from under the small space and drank in air. Steeling himself, he rose and turned.

Mama lay on the bed, the covers drawn up to her neck. Her eyes were frozen wide open, her bloodied face contorted in fear. Evan trembled as he reached out and pulled away the sheet. Dark bruises showed along her throat where she’d been strangled. He fought the bile that threatened to spew from him. Raising the sheet, he covered her to her chin. Though he was frightened, he leaned over and kissed her cheek, already cooling.

Evan stepped away. He didn’t understand everything that had been said. What he did know is that Mama died because of him.

He could only imagine what his father would do to him.

Returning to his room, he saw no one. He huddled in the corner. Sleep didn’t come. The rays of morning light finally spilled into his room. Evan washed and dressed and sat in the chair, waiting for his father’s daily check of the bedsheets—but the duke never arrived.

Afraid to go but more afraid to stay in his room, Evan nervously ventured to the schoolroom where he ate breakfast every morning. No tray of food was there. Instead, his father awaited him, standing at the window, staring out. Evan gripped the table for support, fearing he might faint.

His father turned and came toward him, his face neutral, his eyes cold.

“Your mother has been ill,” he began.

“She was going to have a baby. She told me,” Evan managed to say, wondering how the duke would respond.

“Yes. She’s had trouble with that in the past. I’m sure you know since you’re her only child.”

He noticed his father didn’t say “our only child”.

His father placed a firm hand on Evan’s shoulder, causing him to flinch. “Brace yourself. Your mother lost this baby. Because it’s happened several times, her body was weak. It gave out on her. It was most likely her heart.”

Evan lacked the courage to call the man a liar—and hated himself for it.

The duke sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that your mother died last night. There will be no baby.”

“Can I see her?” he asked softly.

“No. No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” After a pause, he continued. “Once the funeral is done, I’ve decided you’ll stay with your uncle. You and Laurence will be going away to school in a year. It’s time to get to know one another better.”

“Is it because I look so much like her?”

His words took the duke aback. “You do favor her greatly. Yes, I am very saddened by her death and you would only be a reminder to me. For now, you’ll stay with my brother.”

Without another word—or any gesture of comfort—the Duke of Winstead left.

Evan vowed once he left Winwood, he would only return when the duke lay dying. He hoped he would be grown by then. If he could summon the courage at that time, he planned to choke the life out of his father.

Right after he told his father that he knew the duke had murdered his wife.

 

 

CHAPTER 1

London—1813

 

It was the final night of the Season—and Rachel St. Clair hadn’t landed a husband.

It certainly wasn’t from lack of trying. She had attended every event to which she’d received an invitation. Balls. Card parties. Garden parties. The theatre and opera. She’d danced practically every dance, sometimes even when blisters formed on her feet. That’s how much she’d liked dancing. She’d been on walks and drives and rides with eligible gentlemen. She’d even kissed a few. Three. Almost four.

And nothing.

She’d been sought after by many men of all ages and proved quite popular. Rachel liked people—and they sensed that when with her. She believed she was a good conversationalist. She was outgoing and happy. People proclaimed she was a delight to be around.

So why hadn’t any of the men of the ton appealed to her?

Maybe she needed a dashing war hero. England’s war with Bonaparte still raged on. Perhaps, her one true love was on the battlefield even now, leading men as they charged against the enemy. If so, this bloody war better be over soon because she wanted a husband.

Leah had found one. Almost the very first night. Her best friend had danced with Lord Lock once and had been utterly smitten with him.

If her best friend could find love, surely Rachel could do the same. But not this Season. After all, how many young women waited until the last ball of the last night to fall in love?

She glanced and watched Leah debating what to wear tonight. They’d been best friends for two years, ever since Leah’s sister married Rachel’s brother. That was one of her problems. Jeremy and Catherine were so in love, it was almost disgusting. All of society remarked on how the Duke and Duchess of Everton acted as newlyweds. They doted on one another. They constantly told the other “I love you”. Rachel couldn’t avoid catching them kissing. In hallways. The library. The stables. At breakfast. She wanted what the pair had. It was important to her that a man look at her in the way Catherine did her brother. It was as necessary as air for her to find a titled gentleman who would also worship her as Jeremy did his wife.

Why couldn’t she find love?

“Do you think Alex would prefer the sky blue ball gown or the mint green one?” Leah asked.

Rachel pushed herself off the bed. “Alford is mad about you no matter what you wear. In fact, he would probably prefer you wear nothing at all,” she said saucily.

“Rachel!” Leah blushed furiously.

“Don’t hide it. Celebrate the fact that he’s over the moon in love with you, Leah. You’ve told me what his kisses make you feel like.”

That was another problem. Rachel had asked and from what Leah told her, the way Alford kissed was nothing like the gentlemen Rachel had encountered. Leah said her fiancé’s kisses sent her to heaven and back. That the more they kissed, the hungrier they both seemed for more.

The total opposite of Rachel’s experience.

“I say wear whatever you wish,” she continued. “Alford will love you in any color. So you might as well please yourself.”

“What are you going to wear?”

“Does it matter?”

Leah came and drew Rachel into a tight embrace. “It will happen for you. I know it will. Just not this Season.” She released her and returned to the wardrobe.

“At least Jeremy isn’t pushing me out the door,” Rachel joked. “He and Catherine sat me down a month ago and asked me if I felt anyone was special. When I told them no, Catherine, in particular, emphasized how I shouldn’t feel pressured to wed just anyone in order to be wed. She said her father had also given her permission to take her time and not rush into anything.”

Of course, they both knew Catherine would have married Jeremy at the end of her Season if fate had not intervened and kept them apart for five years. Rachel supposed that’s why they were so open in their affection. They’d lost those years and probably tried to make up for it even now.

“Wear the green,” she suggested. “It makes your eyes a deeper shade of green.”

“Very well. It is one of my favorites.”

They both dressed, Rachel donning a lavender ball gown that complemented her St. Clair coal black hair and emerald eyes. They sat and gossiped about different people who would be present at tonight’s ball as the maid arranged their hair.

She picked up her reticule and slid it onto her wrist as Leah did the same.

“Promise me you’ll be open tonight,” Leah instructed. “Even if you’ve danced with someone before or he’s brought you flowers or escorted you to the park. Don’t shut anyone out. Give every man there a chance.”

“I will,” Rachel promised easily, knowing she had little to no chance of falling in love tonight. No one new would appear on the scene. It would be the same men she’d spent all Season with.

They went downstairs, where Alford awaited them. He’d taken to walking around the block and riding to events in the Everton carriage ever since his and Leah’s engagement was announced two weeks ago. They would be married in mid-October at Eversleigh. It struck Rachel how lonely she would be with Leah gone. They spent practically every waking moment together.

And what if another Season came and went and she still didn’t fall in love? Would desperation set in? Would she become one of those women who were on the shelf and never wed? An unmarried woman who served as an aunt, going from house to house and mothering other people’s children since she had none of her own?

She shuddered at the thought. Why couldn’t she do what most every other young lady of the ton did during their come-out and simply set her cap for the highest title and wealthiest man? Most everyone married. Love rarely had anything to do with engagements and marriages. Joining family fortunes and uniting family names were the games played. Leah was merely one of the lucky ones who’d found her soulmate.

“You look beautiful, my dear,” Alford said with admiring eyes as they reached the bottom of the staircase. He captured Leah’s hand and kissed it. Being a true gentleman, he turned to Rachel. “That lavender is quite lovely on you, Rachel.”

“Thank you,” she said sweetly although she doubted the earl heard it. He’d already turned back to Leah.

“Come along, Duchess.”

She looked up and saw her brother and his wife coming down the stairs. Rachel wished, for a moment, she could have her sister-in-law’s striking auburn hair and bright blue eyes. Maybe that would have gained her attention from the right man. No, the right man for her would be attracted to her and no other.

“I don’t need to hurry,” Catherine admonished. “The twins are in bed asleep. Finally. I read to Jenny and she, too, is now in bed. We have all the time in the world, Duke. Let me savor it.”

Rachel chuckled. They were the only two she knew of that used their titles in such a teasing manner. That was another thing. She’d absolutely have to find a man who possessed a sense of humor. Laughter was a way of life in the St. Clair household and she refused to go anywhere gloomy. She would also need someone intelligent. Charm was definitely a plus. She didn’t care much about looks but her future husband definitely needed to be a good kisser. If she was going to kiss him as much as Catherine and Leah seemed to kiss their men, he better be skilled at it.

“I see you’re already here, Alford,” Jeremy said. “You seem to be underfoot all the time.”

“If you’d allow me to sleep on your stairs, Everton, I’d do so. That way I could see Leah first thing in the morning when she came down to breakfast.”

Her brother snorted. “You’re already at breakfast every morning when she arrives, eating me out of house and home.”

Catherine swatted Jeremy with her fan. “Go easy on him, Duke. He can’t help being in love with my sister.” She smiled at Leah, her happiness at the match between her sister and Alford obvious.

Barton handed Jeremy his hat and opened the door. “Have a pleasant evening, Your Grace.”

Rachel was last out the door and Barton said, “If he’s not there tonight, Lady Rachel, the right one will turn up when you least expect it.”

“I know,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Thank you, Barton.”

In the carriage, Alford said, “I’ve had a brilliant idea.”

“You may not marry Leah earlier than October,” Catherine cautioned. “Too much planning is going into this wedding and too much is left to be done.”

“I understand, Your Grace.” He smiled at his fiancée and then said, “It’s ten weeks until our wedding. I don’t think I can go that long without seeing Leah at least a few times.”

“You’re welcome to come visit at Eversleigh,” Jeremy said. “We would not keep the two of you apart deliberately.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. What I had in mind was a way to introduce Leah to Fairfield since she’s never seen it. I’ve decided to hold a house party in three weeks. That way, Leah can come to know Fairfield and some of our neighbors before we wed. I’ve already begun to draw up a list of names to invite. We can hunt and play games and enjoy music.”

Leah beamed. “That is a magnificent idea, Alex.” She looked to Catherine. “Would it be possible for Rachel and me to go? I don’t want to leave if you need me for the wedding planning.”

“Actually, I think it would do you good. After three weeks away from London and Alford, I’m sure you’d be moping about. We’ll already have done your first dress fitting. We can do another once you return. Of course, you’ll need a chaperone since Alford’s parents are no longer with us. I’m sure Cor would be happy to accompany you two.” Catherine turned to the earl. “How long are you thinking it will run?”

“I think two weeks would be a perfect amount of time. That would put us at the halfway mark until the wedding by the time the house party ended.”

“Then you could come visit Eversleigh two weeks after that,” Leah said. “I think that would be splendid.” She looked at Rachel. “What do you think?”

“I’m eager to see Fairfield. It will be nice to have in my mind what it looks like so I can picture you there.”

“Fairfield will be your second home, Rachel, won’t it, Alex?” Leah asked.

“I expect Lady Rachel will visit often,” Alford concurred.

“Maybe you’ll find someone at Fairfield,” Leah said hopefully.

Rachel doubted it but smiled. “You never know. It’s when you least expect it.”

 

 

CHAPTER 2

Peninsular War—Spain

 

Major Evan Drake finished reading the letter from Alexander Lock, his best friend. He folded and slipped it back into its envelope. Mail came sporadically during wartime, especially during the Peninsular War. Because of this, he treasured every letter he received from Alex. This one, written two months ago, made him particularly happy. Alex wrote to him about a Lady Leah Crawford, who seemed to be an angel set upon earth, according to his friend. It was easy to see Alex was smitten with the young woman. It wouldn’t surprise Evan if he opened the next letter and found them engaged—or married.

He returned the letter to his trunk, slipping it in the bundle of letters Alex had written him over the last six years since Evan had been a member of His Majesty’s Army. He would need to reply and let his friend know of his own news, attaining the rank of major. It was the only good that had come out of this last, miserable year.

Lying on his cot, he fell into a restless sleep. He woke quickly, the sound of artillery being fired echoing in his head. Evan sat up and rubbed his stiff shoulder out of habit. The bullet had been removed a year ago but the shoulder muscles still tightened up on him after he’d been still for any length of time. Worse, his thigh often ached, causing him to limp slightly. That bullet had been nearly impossible to dig out. The surgeon had thought he might need to take Evan’s leg. He’d told the doctor to go ahead, not caring whether he lived or died.

Because of what happened to his men.

Every officer lost soldiers in wartime. He was no exception. The battle that had seen him fall after being struck by two bullets had also been one that wiped out almost every man under his command. He could still hear their shrieks. Smell the copper-tinged blood filling the air. See men collapsing to his left and right.

He shook his head hard, trying to rid his mind of the vivid images.

“Major Drake?”

Evan saw a soldier standing at the flap of his tent. He returned the man’s salute.

“Colonel Maddox wishes to see you at once, sir.”

“Thank you.”

He rose, smoothing his wrinkled uniform and raking fingers through his hair before he placed his hat atop his head. Maddox was his commanding officer. Evan wondered if he would receive new orders with his new rank.

Approaching the colonel’s tent, he saw Maddox’s right-hand man exit. He gave Evan a curt nod.

Maddox appeared at the entrance to the tent. Evan saluted and was bidden to enter. The tent held a large table in the center with an oversized map of the area. He’d stood around this table many times as battle plans were drawn up and orders issued in the seemingly endless war.

“Have a seat, Major,” Maddox said, taking one himself. “Wine?”

“No, thank you.”

Though the region had incredible wines, he hadn’t drunk any in almost a year. He’d imbibed far too much while recovering from his wounds, trying to dull the pain that lay within him for having lost so many men. Since he’d returned to active duty, he’d shunned strong drink of any kind, preferring to keep his mind sharp and the memories alive.

“You’ve been an admirable officer during your time in His Majesty’s Army, Major Drake. You’ve displayed leadership in abundance. Intelligence. Courage.”

The colonel paused and Evan waited patiently. He’d learned the army was all about hurry up and wait and had taken that lesson to heart, tamping down the impatience he was born with and learning how to be still and listen.

“The problem is that you’re taking too many bloody risks.”

“Sir?” He frowned, confused by the statement.

Maddox looked at him with sympathy. “I know what happened to your regiment, Son. All officers find that some decisions are very hard ones. You had a tremendous loss on the battlefield a year ago. Since then, you’ve recovered physically—but you’re not the same man. You take chances that imperil your life with every step. You do things that your men should be doing, not an officer of your rank.”

“How can I ask my men to go and complete such dangerous tasks without leading them by my own example?” Evan quietly demanded.

“Officers issue orders. Soldiers are meant to obey them. True, we sometimes find ourselves in the midst of battle but our larger role is to plan and strategize. It’s up to our men to execute our vision.” Maddox sighed. “You’ve been canny in your suggestions, Drake. I’ve used many of them and seen excellent results as we claw our way through the mire of this war. What you haven’t been for well over a year now is circumspect. I expect my officers to think prudently, not charge wildly into battle alongside foot soldiers, hoping to get themselves killed.”

He felt the dull flush of guilt and embarrassment flood his face.

“You once were cautious and alert. You still are, where your men are concerned. Now, though, you’re careless and unmindful of your own well-being. I require officers under my command to control their emotions. Manage their conduct. Act not on impulse.”

“I understand, Colonel. I’m sorry to—”

“I’ve given you time and haven’t seen any progress. You’re only going to get yourself killed. I won’t have your death on my conscience.”

Maddox rose and Evan followed suit. The older man placed a hand on Evan’s shoulder.

“You’re a marquess. You have no need to be here. With almost a quarter of a million men serving the king, only one hundred and fifty peers and sons of peers are officers.” He squeezed Evan’s shoulder. “I want you to sell out. Go home. Take your seat in Parliament. Give up this death wish. Few men in the House of Lords have ever gone into battle as you have.” He smiled. “Maybe the next war that occurs, you can make them understand better because of your experience here and prevent others from voting to go to war.”

It was as if Maddox struck him a death blow. “You want me to sell my commission? What if I refuse?”

The colonel nodded sadly. “I cannot command you to do so. I can only advise you that it’s best. You’ve been at war for six years, Major. You’ve become a decorated officer and have the respect of every man who’s ever served under you.” His tone softened. “It’s time to go home, Evan. Make a life beyond this.”

“And if I don’t?”

Maddox’s hand fell. He gaze grew harsh. “I will make it known that you are not fit to hold a battlefield command. I’ll pull the strings that it takes in order for you to be sent back to London and work in the War Office there. I know that’s not where you want to be. I’m telling you. Sell out and return to England—or suffer the consequences.”

***

Evan stood on the deck of the ship, wearing his officer’s uniform of scarlet coatee and close-fitting white pantaloons tucked into his tall Hessians. He’d left his trunk behind in Spain. It had contained a few short-tailed coatees and gray pantaloons, along with low field boots that he wore on campaign, things he’d no longer need now that he was returning to civilian life. He wondered what titled gentlemen wore these days since he’d been gone from England such a long time.

The only things he’d brought with him were the letters he’d received from Alex and three Bancroft had sent. Winwood’s head groom, who’d taught him to ride as a boy, always had a soft spot for him. He’d written to Evan once a year after his father banished him from home. In the infrequent letters, Bancroft kept him up on local gossip, telling him it was important he be kept in the know for the day when he returned as the new duke. Evan knew Bancroft wrote to him in secret. If the Duke of Winstead learned what his head groom did, the man would be out of a job with no references.

He spied land and knew they’d reach Hastings soon. Edgemere, his estate, lay twenty miles north of the coastal city. Once he’d turned thirteen, he’d gone to Edgemere instead of returning to his uncle’s between school terms. As Marquess of Merrick, he set out to learn everything he could about his estate and had spent many hours with the land manager going over estate records. He’d also gotten out on the land and met every tenant. Before going to war, he was proud to know all of them and their families by name.

When he left to fight, he drew up papers with his solicitor that granted Mitchell Finfrock, Edgemere’s estate manager, full power to run the place as he saw fit. Finfrock had been a kind, father-figure to him while still being a hard-nosed businessman who made sure the estate always turned a profit.

The house itself he’d closed up, letting the staff go since he had no idea how long he’d serve in the army. Only Finfrock, who lived in a small cottage near the stables, and the tenants remained. Evan supposed he’d have to see about hiring new servants to get the house up and running again. The thought depressed him.

The ship docked an hour later. With the only luggage being his satchel, which he carried on his good shoulder, Evan disembarked and went into town. He walked the streets for a bit, familiarizing himself with the city again, and then found a man who loaded his cart with goods. After a brief conversation, where he ascertained the man headed north, Evan offered to pay him to take him to Edgemere. The man readily agreed, only too happy to help an officer from the war return safely home.

The miles went by quickly. It was August in England and everything was green and peaceful in the countryside. He wondered what it would be like adjusting to such a quiet life, with no shells exploding and no men moaning as they lay dying. He’d been so used to having thousands of soldiers around him every day. Now, he would be alone—and dreaded it.

As they drew close to Fairfield, he told the man, “I’ve changed my mind. Let me off here and I’ll walk to the gates. I’m an old friend of Lord Alford and haven’t seen him in years.”

The man did as requested and stopped the cart. Evan had to insist the driver take the money and then climbed from the vehicle. He waved goodbye and started down the long drive to what had always been his second home.

Arriving half an hour later, he knocked at the front door. Alford’s butler recognized him at once.

“Come in, Lord Merrick. It’s grand to see you. You look splendid in your uniform.”

“I know I wasn’t expected, Jones.”

“It doesn’t matter. Lord Alford will be delighted to see you.”

“Evan? Is that you?”

Alex Lock raced down the stairs and wrapped him in a bear hug. “I can’t believe you’re here, in the flesh.” He looked to Jones. “Have tea brought to my study.”

They went to a large, comfortably furnished room. In the past, when he’d been a visiting schoolboy, this room had been off-limits. Of course, that was before Alex had become the Earl of Alford.

“Brandy?” his host offered.

“Why not?”

Alex poured them both a drink and passed a crystal tumbler to him.

“What shall we toast?” he asked his friend.

“That’s obvious. Your safe return to England.”

A dark shadow crossed Evan’s soul as his thoughts turned to his men who would never come home to their loved ones. Still, he wouldn’t press his conflicted mood upon his closest friend.

“To being home in England,” Evan said, mustering as much enthusiasm as he could.

They drained their glasses and set them aside. Alex gestured for him to sit.

“By what you’re wearing, I’m assuming you recently arrived in Hastings.”

“I did. I paid a man in a rather rickety cart to bring me this far. I meant to go to Edgemere but confess I didn’t want to face it. The furniture throughout the house is covered in sheets. I’m sure everything could use a good airing after the house being locked up tight for six years. I’ll also need to hire a staff again.”

“You can do all of that from here. There’s no need to return to a home that’s not a home yet. Besides, I must insist you stay. I’m hosting a house party. It just began today.” Alex beamed. “It’s in honor of Leah.”

“Ah, the sweet, earthly angel of your recent letters,” Evan remarked, seeing how Alex lit up simply mentioning the woman’s name.

“You never received my last correspondence, I’ll wager. Leah and I are engaged. We’ll wed at Eversleigh, her family’s home, come mid-October.”

The good news made Evan smile. “My heartiest congratulations.”

“Now that you’re back, you’ll have to stand up with me,” Alex insisted.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“And promise you’ll stay for the house party.”

Doubt filled him. “I’m not certain that’s a good idea, Alex. I think it’s going to take some time getting used to being in Polite Society again. I’m not much of a conversationalist. What do I have to talk about? How many cannons were fired at a particular battle? How many soldiers were wounded or killed in action?” He gestured to his clothing. “Besides, this is all I have to wear. I doubt anything will fit me at Edgemere. I have filled out some during my army days.”

Alex waved his protests away. “We’ve always been of a similar size. I insist you stay at Fairfield until Edgemere is up and running. My wardrobe and valet are at your disposal. Let’s go upstairs. I’ll order you a bath and you can try on some things to see what fits.”

The tea cart arrived and they delayed going upstairs for several minutes. Evan relished the first decent cup of tea he’d had in years and gobbled down several scones.

They went upstairs and Evan had to admit that the bath was the best he’d had since he’d left England. Alex pulled numerous items out for him to wear. As he’d suggested, they still were close in size and Evan could make do with what Alex provided until he saw a tailor.

“Seeing these items gives me a better idea what I might request as I have a new wardrobe made up. I suppose I’ll need to return to Hastings for that.”

“Nonsense. We’ll have my tailor from London come in order to outfit you,” his friend insisted. “You’re a marquess, after all. You have to look your title. I have your old room ready. Lady Rachel was supposed to use it but, as usual, she and Leah are thicker than thieves and demanded they be placed in the same chamber.”

“Who is this Lady Rachel? I don’t recall you mentioning her.”

“Leah’s sister, Catherine, married Rachel’s brother, the Duke of Everton. Everton took guardianship of Leah and the two are closer than sisters.” Alex paused. “I think you’ll like Lady Rachel quite a bit.”

Evan held a hand up. “No,” he said firmly. “No matchmaking, Alex. Just because you’ve found the love of your life doesn’t mean every single man wishes to be in a wedded state. I’ve only set foot in England a few hours ago. I prefer remaining a bachelor.”

“Lady Rachel is an interesting woman. If you find you have no romantic interest in her, she would still be a good friend to have.”

The thought of becoming friends with a woman seemed foreign to him. After spending years in the company of men, with only the occasional camp trollop to satisfy his urges, Evan couldn’t fathom making friends with a lady of the ton. Especially an unmarried one. Those were the ones always on the lookout for a husband.

He yawned, the lack of sleep of the past several days finally catching up to him.

“I was going to say that dinner will be served soon but you look too weary to sit and make polite conversation. Why don’t I have Mrs. Dunnavant send up a tray for you instead?”

Evan grinned. “The old girl’s still kicking around? After eating camp food for longer than I’d like to remember, anything from Mrs. Dunnavant would be much desired.”

“I’ll have my valet move some of these clothes to your room. I’m letting you off the hook tonight, Evan. Tomorrow, when you’re rested, I expect you to be your usual charming self to my houseguests.” Alex hugged him again. “It’s good to have you back home.”

“It’s good to be here.”

Evan went across the hall to the room he’d often stayed in. He and Alex had gone to Eton together and become fast friends. The Earl and Countess of Alford had invited Evan to Fairfield several times over the years. When he began staying at Edgemere during school breaks, he came even more often since only five miles separated the two estates.

The room seemed familiar, despite having new drapes and carpeting. He sat in a chair by the window and became lost in thought until a knock sounded at the door. A maid brought in a tray filled to the brim. Mrs. Dunnavant followed behind her.

“I had to see for myself that it was truly you, Lord Merrick.”

Evan hugged the cook. “If I would’ve known you were still here, I would’ve sold out and come more quickly. No one can make roast pheasant or apple pies as you can, Mrs. Dunnavant.”

The cook blushed. “It’s good to have you here again, my lord. I’ve got to get back. It’s almost time for dinner to be served.”

“Thank you for coming to see me, Mrs. Dunnavant. I will return the favor and lurk around your kitchen during my stay at Fairfield.”

He ate every delicious item on the tray. His belly full, sleep seemed a possibility. Once he rid himself of his boots, lethargy blanketed him and he climbed on the bed, fully clothed, promptly drifting off.

As usual, a nightmare woke him. Evan sat up in the dark, his heart pounding furiously, darkness surrounding him. It took him several moments before he realized where he was. He rose from the bed and went to the window. Moonlight shone across the lawn. Restlessness filled him. He was also thirsty.

Not bothering to pull his Hessians back on, Evan went downstairs to the kitchen. A fat tabby sat next to the hearth. He found some cider and drank it. Now wide awake, he decided to go to the library. Maybe if he could find something boring, such as a seed catalogue, that might help put him back to sleep. He went to the library as a clock chimed midnight. Since he’d seen no one, he supposed all of Alex’s guests had gone to bed, keeping country hours.

He lit a single lamp and browsed the shelves. Nothing jumped out at him. He went to a chair in the far corner and turned it so it faced the window. A strong breeze blew clouds across the night sky and the moon peeked out several times. The movement lulled him and his eyes started drooping. He closed them, thinking he would get up in a minute and go back to bed.

The next thing he knew, he heard voices. Feminine voices.

 

And their conversation was most interesting.