Page 2 of Loving an Earl (Widows of Mayfair #1)

T he following year flew by with daily rides with Henry, picnics, and stimulating conversations. He treated her as an equal, sharing everything with her. She also accompanied him on his visits to his tenants. The time they spent in London for him to sit at his place in the House of Lords was not as fearful as Lilly had believed. They attended the opera and the theater but refused all invitations to private balls and small dinner parties. Henry had no yearning to relive his early years in London. Lilly was thankful he felt that way because she had no desire to mingle with strangers or to be gossiped about.

She spent much of her time with Henry’s young cousin Emmeline, and Lilly was thrilled to have a friend. Henry’s maternal uncle, Baron Connolly, had married a younger woman after his first wife’s death, and his new, young wife had given him a daughter named Emmeline. At eighteen, Emmeline had married Mr. Aiden Fitzpatrick. At twenty-two she became a widow. The young widow Fitzpatrick was a Godsend to Lilly, teaching her everything she needed to know about London’s social scene and more gossip and stories than she had room for in her memory.

Lilly couldn’t have been happier or more content with her life. Thinking back to the day she’d married Henry, she would never have believed what a wonderful life they would have together.

Until it was no more.

The sun shone bright that early spring day, making it feel warmer than it was. Henry and Lilly had the cook pack them a picnic lunch, and they headed out for their usual ride. During the past year, she’d become quite a horsewoman and loved to race Henry. And the true gentleman that he was, he always let her win. Today was no exception. Only when Lilly pulled the reins on her mare and glanced over her shoulder, her heart stopped, and she cried out, “No, no, no!”

Turning her horse around, she bolted back toward Henry, lying on the ground at an awkward angle, his loyal bay beside him. Jumping off Rose Petal, her heart in her throat, Lilly dropped to the ground. Henry’s eyes stared up at her sightless. Even though she recognized death, she clumsily felt around his neck for a pulse. Nothing. She threw her head back and screamed and screamed until no sound emerged. Tears and anguish clogged her throat, and she covered Henry with her body and sobbed.

“My lady.” A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and she ignored it.

“Go away.” Her voice was broken and hoarse.

“I can’t. His lordship is gone. I must escort you home so he may be retrieved.”

“I can’t leave him alone.”

“He won’t be. My eldest son will stay with him.”

With these kind words, Lilly finally mounted her horse, and the local farmer, Mr. Mahoney, held Rose Petal’s reins and walked them back to Langford Manor. Many members of the household met them, no doubt seeing them approaching and wondering where their lord was.

Wilson, the butler, helped Lilly down from Rose Petal, a panic-stricken look on his face. “Where’s his lordship?”

Eyes wide and mouth open, Lilly couldn’t speak. No words could get past the lump in her throat.

Mr. Mahoney, standing beside her, eyes cast down, removed his hat, clutched it to his chest, and said in a voice laced with sadness, “He is dead. Appears to have fallen off his horse.”

Every fiber in Lilly’s body wanted to yell out that he wasn’t dead and that Henry would never fall off his mount, but she stood, tears silently rolling down her face as Mrs. Pemberton and Campbell each had an arm around her waist.

After that, everything was a blur. Henry’s body was returned, prepared, and laid out in the public drawing room. Messages were sent to his cousin and his solicitor, who would inform his nephew of his inheritance. Emmeline sent word that she was ill and couldn’t travel, but she insisted Lilly come to London and stay with her. They could mourn Henry together. Nothing arrived from the new earl, and Lilly shivered with dread. How could someone be so cold as not to attend his uncle’s showing? In her mind, she already disliked the young man she’d never met.

Standing in the family cemetery, a cold, windy rain blasting her body, her heavy cloak doing little to keep her dry as the wind blew off her hood. Lilly watched with burning eyes and a heavy heart as Henry’s casket went into the ground. A sadness she’d only felt once before when her papa died settled inside her soul. She’d been too young when her mama died to remember. Her heart was broken and her throat sore from all her crying as her mind screamed, why Henry? He’d become her everything. How would she survive without his love, friendship, and guidance?

As she rested that evening on the chaise longue before the blazing hearth in her bedchamber, Lilly closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Her bed didn’t interest her. Even though she and Henry hadn’t shared it, he’d visited her nightly, hugged her, and kissed her cheek. Sleeping without their nightly ritual didn’t feel right.

The next day, Lilly had her belongings moved to another room as far down the hall as she could get from her and Henry’s old chambers. It was a smaller room but no less lovely. And she may as well prepare for the arrival of the new earl. Of course, he might not come here at all and instead move directly into Henry’s London residence in Mayfair, corresponding about the estate and earldom through the family solicitor and Henry’s estate manager. Having never received word from his nephew during the year of their marriage, Lilly also didn’t know whether he was married or single. Did she now possess the title of Dowager Countess of Langford? Only time would tell.

*

Mr. Edmund Weston, Mr. James Caldwell, and Andrew Hampton, the Earl of Quincy—the three owners of Mayfair Imports and Exports—each traveled from the West Indies on different ships with cargo holds full of goods to sell in London and beyond. As Edmund’s ship traveled up the Thames on a bright clear day toward the docks and their warehouse, the tension of the long trip eased from his shoulders. London . He had been traveling for business for nearly eight years, ever since the inception of their company—the last three of those years with only quick stops in London.

The years had been full of adventure, hard work, foreign politics, women, gambling, and much more. But recently, he’d missed his life in England and decided to come home with plans to travel less. It was time to put down roots and prepare for the earldom which would one day be his. Uncle Henry was in good health, as far as he knew, but he was getting up in age. Edmund figured it couldn’t hurt to be prepared.

After settling business affairs in London, he was going to Langford Manor to see his uncle and spend time learning his day-to-day routine. He would visit the tenants and ease any concerns they had about him taking over at some point. He wanted to make his uncle proud and know he was leaving everything in good hands. Give him no regrets about never marrying and producing an heir.

Finally standing on solid ground, Edmund’s body swayed as though he were still on the open seas. He was used to the feeling, so he went about his business. By the end of the day, Quincy and Caldwell, his business partners, also arrived safely to port and Edmund sighed with relief. They’d had a relatively calm voyage, but calm waters didn’t always mean safe travels. Pirates could come upon them at any time.

“Another safe journey,” Quincy said as he entered the warehouse office along with Caldwell. Both men looked tired but in good spirits, as they should be with the fortune in cargo their ships had hauled into port.

Edmund sat at one of three desks in the large room and eyed the large piles of correspondence. “Caldwell, would you pour three glasses of brandy? We should celebrate another successful adventure.”

The three friends sat drinking and discussing their shipments, which were being unloaded into their warehouse at that very moment, when a gentleman knocked on the open office door and said, “Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m looking for Mr. Edmund Weston.”

“I am he. And you are?”

“I am Randal Beauregard, solicitor to Henry Weston, the late Earl of Langford. I have a letter for you, my lord. Your uncle Henry passed on two months ago. You have inherited the earldom.” He handed Edmund a sealed missive. “I am very sorry for your loss. Please come to my office tomorrow. We have things to discuss and paperwork to sign.” He bowed and left as quickly as he’d arrived.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Quincy said as he looked thoughtfully into his drink. “And congratulations on your title and inheritance. I find it very awkward when titles transfer. Strange circumstances.”

“Most definitely,” Caldwell said as he refilled everyone’s glasses.

Edmund stared at the letter in his unsteady hand. Once he opened it, everything in his life as he knew it would change. He broke the seal on the letter from Beauregard, unfolded it and read:

Dear Edmund Weston, The Earl of Langford,

It is with terrible regret that I inform you of the death of Henry Weston, the 5th Earl of Langford, on 21 April 1815, in a riding accident. He leaves his widow, Lilliana Weston, the Countess of Langford...

He didn’t bother reading the rest. “Uncle Henry had a wife.” Surprise did not begin to express how he felt about learning that Uncle Henry had finally married. He was glad he’d had someone to share his last years with, but his heart ached for his widow that she would spend her elderly years alone. One of the first things Edmund needed to find out was whether there was a dower house at Langford Manor. Surely, she would not want to live in that enormous manor alone when he was not in residence.

Both of his friends’ heads turned his way.

“I’m shocked,” Quincy said, pulling Edmund out of his musings. “We certainly haven’t been very well informed during our years abroad. I think something as interesting as the Earl of Langford taking a bride at his age would’ve made the newspapers we received.”

“One would think.” Edmund studied the empty glass in his hand. “I imagine she is upset with me for not coming right away. Not that I could have. I hope someone explained that I was out of the country and wouldn’t receive word until now. I would hate our relationship to be stained before we’ve met.” He should write to her himself, try to undo any awkwardness that might exist between them on account of his absence.

Quincy stood and placed his glass on the sideboard. “I’m going home. I have no idea if my parents received my message informing them of my arrival. Hopefully, I won’t cause my mother to have a fainting spell when I appear.”

Caldwell snorted and stood to follow his friend out. “Since I live in single gentlemen’s quarters, I’m free to do as I please.”

Alone at last with his thoughts, Edmund made a list of important things he needed to do starting tomorrow. Before he traveled to Langford Manor, he needed to visit Baron Winslow and inquire about his daughter, Annabelle. The thought of Annabelle stabbed his heart. He’d once cared for her deeply. It was almost ten years since he’d seen her, and he hoped she was happy, healthy, and alive, wherever she was. Neither the baron nor he had been able to locate her since she’d left all those years ago. The last time Edmund had been in London, he had spent many days and nights wandering the poorer sections of town in the hope of finding her. The baron was getting on in age, and he wanted to see his beloved daughter once last time before he met his maker.

*

Two months had passed since Henry’s death, and the household had prepared to welcome their new lordship each day to no avail.

Until a letter arrived stamped with the Earl of Langford’s seal.

Her hands trembling, Lilly sat alone in the family drawing room, awaiting afternoon tea while she broke the seal. Opening the short correspondence, she began to read:

My Dearest Aunt Lilliana,

Please forgive me for writing to you months after my uncle’s passing. I returned to the country only days ago, having been abroad for many years, and I just learned of his death. I also only just found out he married, and I am very sorry for your loss.

It is with a saddened heart that I write to you now. I remember my uncle from when I was a boy, and I regret that I didn’t spend more time with him as an adult.

I will arrive at Langford Manor on 15 June 1815 to meet with the estate manager and visit the tenants. I sincerely hope that you will make time to spend a meal or two with me so we can discuss your plans for the future.

Your Humble Nephew,

Edmund

Lilly folded the missive and slumped down into the settee in a most unladylike way. Who cared? No one would see her except for the maid bringing her tea. So he’d been abroad and hadn’t known Henry had passed or that he had wed? How interesting. It also sounded as though he was single, which was in her favor. He would probably spend all his time in London.

Before knowing whether he was wed or not, Lilly had it in her mind to spend some time with Emmeline in London. London didn’t frighten her as it once did. However, she thought now she would wait until her year of mourning was over before leaving. By then, perhaps she would be ready for public gatherings.

But until she met with the new earl, her future plans really were up in the air.

*

Edmund, hating the confinement of a carriage, rode his gelding, Bear, in front of the matching four hauling his trunks. Accompanying him were his driver and two outriders. He spent so much time in close quarters on his fleet of ships that he craved the vast open space whenever the chance arose. At six feet tall, no carriage or ship’s cabin catered to his height. Even his captain’s quarters on his ships had low ceilings, causing him to crouch. Such was life at sea.

They were almost to Langford Manor, and Edmund had no idea what sort of welcome was waiting for him. As a grown man, he shouldn’t have an anxious knot in his belly, but he did. Would his aunt resent him? She’d lost her husband, and her life was changed forever. But he had no plans to live in the country and wouldn’t interrupt her daily life. His ships sailed in and out of London. His warehouse was there, so that was where he needed to be. He would juggle his business and the responsibilities of the earldom from there. And if he couldn’t, his partner, Mr. James Caldwell, who was unmarried and untitled, could take on more responsibility in the business.

Several servants hurried out the door and down the manor’s steps to greet him. They took the reins to Bear as he dismounted. Ignoring the need to stretch his limbs, he turned toward the people who he supposed were his household now.

“My lord, welcome to Langford Manor.” The small, middle-aged man Edmund recognized as the butler bowed. “I am Mr. Wilson, your butler. Please accept all the household’s condolences on the loss of your uncle.”

“Thank you,” Edmund said.

Wilson proceeded to introduce the remaining servants to him. As well as remembering the butler, he remembered the valet and housekeeper from when he was a child.

His uncle’s valet, Mullens—now his, he supposed—came forward and bowed. “I will have your things brought to the earl’s chambers and unpacked immediately.”

Upon entering the manor, Edmund relaxed and looked around the sizeable, marbled entry. If this were any indication, the house wouldn’t need any repairs or redecorating. He’d forgotten his uncle had impeccable taste. Most likely, nothing would need to be changed, as with the London townhome. Until one day in the future, of course, when he took a bride and she wanted to make modifications.

“I would like to freshen up and then meet my uncle’s widow. Could you ask her to meet me in the drawing room in half an hour? And please bring a tea tray.”

Edmund hurried up the stairs to the master chambers. He remembered where they were and found the large bedchamber clean and tastefully decorated in dark blue and beige. He opened the door to the dressing room and found nothing of his uncle’s left inside. A quick peek into the adjoining sitting room found it clean and smelling faintly of roses. He wrinkled his nose and shut the door.

Mullens brought a basin of warm water for him to freshen up with. While splashing the soothing water on his face, several servants brought in his trunks, and Mullens oversaw the unpacking of his things. “Leave the small brown trunk. I will take care of that myself,” Edmund said. Inside the smaller trunk held Edmunds’s personal papers and things he preferred nobody to handle but him.

Half an hour later, Edmund went down the hall to the family’s private drawing room to find a small woman standing, gazing out the sunny window with her back to him. He studied the woman in a plain, black mourning dress, her light hair done up in a neat chignon. One delicate hand leaned against the molding around the window. He frowned as his heart thumped hard inside his chest. Something appeared off. Suddenly, he didn’t know whether to address her as aunt, countess, or Lady Langford. He chose the latter.

“Lady Langford.”

When she turned to face him with a gentle smile and spoke the words, “Please call me Lilly,” with a sweet melody of a voice, he stumbled forward as though he’d been punched in the gut. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Because standing before him was but a girl. If she were a day over twenty, he’d eat his gloves. This was his uncle’s widow? This beautiful young woman? He’d expected someone closer to his uncle’s age. His suspicious nature had chills climbing up his spine. He ignored the feeling for now.

“Lilly, let me express my deepest condolences on the loss of Lord Langford. I admired my uncle greatly and will miss him.”

“Thank you. I miss him very much.”

“I must admit I was shocked to find out my uncle finally married. And to marry someone such as yourself...”

She looked at him with confusion. “Such as myself? What does that mean?”

What does that mean? Had she never thought it would seem odd that a man of his uncle’s advanced years would be married to someone her age? Surely, this girl and her family had somehow taken advantage of his uncle in his old, lonely years, hoping to swindle him out of his fortune. Why else would someone so young tie herself to an aging gentleman?

His words came out sharp as his suspicions grew. “Where did you come from, and how on earth did you convince my Uncle Henry to marry you? Has your family stolen all the Langford jewels? Was he supporting all your relatives? Because if he was, the money is no more. I will not be taken advantage of as he was. You and yours will not see a farthing from me.”

As he ranted on, Lilly rose to her full height. Her arms crossed in front of her chest, and her facial expression, once warm and welcome, had turned frigid. Her bright-blue eyes were now dark and stormy.

For one brief moment, he felt contrite for his angry and harsh words. Perhaps he had spoken too quickly. Perhaps he should have given her a chance to tell the story of their marriage and how it came about. But his confusion and shock at the situation had made him forget his manners completely, and the hurtful diatribe had poured from his mouth without thinking.

Putting a wedge between himself and Uncle Henry’s widow would no doubt be something he regretted later.