Page 84 of Rogue of My Heart

I Kissed an Earl

(AND I LIKED IT)

MARRY FARMER

One

Dunegard Castle, near Ballymena, Ireland – July, 1888

* * *

It was widely known throughout County Antrim, and Ireland in general, that the O’Shea family were wicked, scandalous, and unruly in every way imaginable. Particularly the ladies of the family. Young ladies with the surname O’Shea had been causing trouble and upsetting apple carts for generations. That went double for the untamed sisters of Lord Fergus O’Shea, Earl of Ballymena. All four of them. They were headstrong, opinionated, and a bit too enamored of the freedom their brother allowed them when he was away in England.

The sisters had taken up residence in a seaside cottage, where they had the audacity to live independently, in spite of being the daughters of an earl and ladies in their own right. They insisted on cooking their own meals, washing their own laundry, and keeping their own house. It was unspeakably scandalous. When asked, the eldest sister, Lady Shannon O’Shea, would argue that every woman, regardless of her rank, needed to master domestic skills, otherwise they would be completely at the mercy of others. And the O’Shea sisters had no intention of being at the mercy of anyone. Because one never knew which way the wind would blow when it came to the fortunes of the aristocracy, particularly the Ascendancy. So the sisters took their lives and their upkeep into their own hands, flouting convention, scandalizing their neighbors, and generally shocking both high and low with their wildly unusual views of the world and a woman’s place in that.

But all that was about to change.

“It has come to my attention that I have been remiss in keeping my eye on you,” Fergus said with a frown, addressing his sisters from his wheelchair in the family parlor of Dunegard Castle one summer morning. “And since I only have one eye left, it’s even more important to use it wisely.”

Marie O’Shea felt a wave of intense anger, in spite of her brother’s jovial mood. She would have murdered the English dogs who attacked and nearly killed her brother several years ago, if the main perpetrator hadn’t already been killed. Fergus was still as handsome and wily as the Devil, but he would forever be confined to a wheelchair now, in spite of the efforts of his friend and personal physician, Dr. Linus Townsend, to teach him to walk with crutches, and he’d lost an eye in the attack as well. Although he did look rather roguish wearing an eyepatch. His wife, Lady Henrietta, certainly thought so. She stood by Fergus’s side now, grinning far too much for a woman whose husband was taking his sisters to task.

“Therefore,” Fergus went on, “on the advice of the esteemed Lady Coyle here—” he gestured to the stoic, grey-haired lady standing on the other side of his wheelchair—a woman who saw it as her business to oversee the lives of every eligible young lady in the county, “—I have decided to evict you from your seaside home.”

“What are you saying?” Shannon said, her expression turning stormy.

“You can’t be serious,” Chloe, the youngest sister, followed, crossing her arms.

“I knew something horrible would happen,” Colleen, one of the middle sisters, along with Marie, said with a sigh.

“I should have put my foot down years ago,” Fergus went on. His mouth twitched into a wry grin. “That’s a bit of a challenge for me these days as well.”

“Fergus, how can you joke at a time like this?” Marie said, stepping forward and planting her hands on her hips. “You’ve never had a problem with the four of us living at the cottage before this. We’ve always just gotten along, minding our own business, not hurting anyone.”

Lady Coyle snorted. “Not hurting anyone?” she repeated incredulously. “What about the emotional distress you have all caused the residents and shopkeepers of Ballymena?”

Marie blinked and stared at the woman. “We haven’t done anything to any residents or shopkeepers.”

“We do a lively trade with them,” Shannon seconded her. “And more than a few of the pubs in town have appreciated our beer.”

“And we will never reveal our secret recipe to a soul,” Chloe said with a sparkle in her eyes.

Lady Coyle huffed as though the sisters had insulted her dignity and shook her head.

Fergus couldn’t seem to stop grinning, but fought to school his expression all the same. “Surprisingly, several of the residents of Ballymena are unhappy with ladies of the local aristocracy making and selling beer. They aren’t too pleased with the lot of you wading in the sea with your skirts tied up around your waists either.”

“Or with the four of you dragging that telescope out in the middle of the night where men on their way home from the pub can see you,” Henrietta added with a grin.

“What do those lecherous pigs care if we have an interest in astrology?” Chloe asked.

“Astronomy, dear,” Shannon corrected her.

“Oh. Yes,” Chloe said, looking sheepish, as though she had meant what she said. She was a Gemini, after all.

“If you ask me, there are quite a few people around here who should be minding their own business,” Marie said, arching one eyebrow at Fergus. They’d done perfectly well with him away in England. As much as she loved her brother, part of her wished he were back there now.

“I don’t mind if you all have minds of your own and use them,” Fergus said with a shrug, “but as it turns out, others do.” He shot a sideways glance to Lady Coyle. “Furthermore, it has been brought to my attention that the lot of you are perilously close to being on the shelf. Shannon, you’re just shy of thirty.”

Shannon opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, Lady Coyle hissed, “It’s unconscionable that none of the four of you are married, and at your ages. As I have explained to your brother, there are more than enough men of suitable title and fortune eager to marry the sisters of an earl, no matter how lively they are. The time has come for all of you to wed.”