Page 1 of The Reclusive Earl’s Scandal (Vows and Vanity #1)

“Here, Barnes,” Edward Carmichael called, eyes never straying far from his hounds as they ran ahead. Their lithe bodies bounded through the longer fields near the edge of Thornshire Hall, where grass became woodland, and also Edward’s favorite place.

Barnes, a tall, slender greyhound, looked back at him, tail wagging.

Edward smiled, whistling, but Barnes only trotted further up, parallel to Benedict, the beagle that was never far from Barnes’s side.

Edward had gotten the dogs a little under a year ago, and although they weren’t puppies, they had endless energy as if they were.

“All right,” he called out. “On you go.”

With a loud bark, Barnes soared for the treeline up ahead, and Edward laughed, walking briskly

behind them. Benedict, on much smaller legs, struggled to keep up with Barnes but he tore after him as if they shared the same stature.

Once Edward hit the treeline, he exhaled.

The fresh, February air did a great deal to calm his nerves regardless, but it was in here that truly proved to be quite magical.

The woodland shut out everything else, gave him shelter from eyes he swore watched him even in the countryside, far from London and the ton , and the rumors and the condolences he could never escape from.

In here, there was only birdsong, the crunch of leftover winter leaves beneath his feet, and the far-off bubbling of a stream.

Edward looked around at the towering pine trees, the guarding oaks with their wide canopies, and the stumps of cut-down tree trunks.

If he looked outward, he’d see that the sun was rising higher, morning fully making its appearance overhead.

The two hounds scampered through the leaves, Benedict already snuffling at some underbrush, while Barnes leapt over a large, fallen log.

It was there that Edward headed, sitting down and peering around.

The woods were too far into the estate for anybody else to really go in, but he knew he had neighbors on the other side of them.

He wasn’t sure who, and he was happier to keep it that way.

Still, he wondered when his peace in there would be broken by another wanderer.

“We should be getting back,” Edward said to Barnes, scratching the greyhound behind his ears.

“I have put off my mother’s letters for too long, and now she has had to resort to coming here.

” He sighed, tipping his head back to look up at the canopy of trees that blocked out most of the morning sun.

Other people might be annoyed at such a thing; Edward was not.

Instead, he enjoyed the shield-like way it bordered him off from everything.

The countryside may have been quiet, but there were days when it wasn’t quite enough , and nor was his head.

Benedict only nudged at his boots, pawing at the ground in front of him.

“Come on.” He finally resigned himself to conceding and heading back to Thornshire Hall.

“We cannot keep the dowager countess waiting any longer.” He grimaced ruefully as if his dogs would understand, but he only stood up, gave one last mournful look around, wishing he could stay there, hidden away, and then made his way back.

The walk took a while, so by the time he entered the estate, he was immediately accosted rather than being greeted in the breakfast hall as he had assumed.

“Where have you been?” The Dowager Countess of Thornshire, Miranda Carmichael, looked every bit as sharp as her tongue, and Edward fought not to flinch as she glared at him.

Her raven-black hair tumbled down her back, only the top of the length partially styled in a neat, elegant bun.

Next to her, Edward’s younger sister, Elena, mirrored her mother.

Although her face was softer with youth, she still possessed the same tight-lipped regard their mother always possessed.

They wore similar pale blue dresses, beautiful yet simpler than their ball gowns, of course. Elena was merely a younger image of their mother, and sometimes it was disconcerting to see.

“Merely on a walk,” he answered lightly, sidelining them both to gesture towards the breakfast hall. “Shall we?”

“Edward, when we have made the long journey up from London, I expect you to be awaiting us on time ,” his mother hissed, but followed him nonetheless.

“And I will remind you that I did not ask for you to come up to me.” The sharp words came out too quickly when he should have held them back.

He stopped in the doorway, looking back to find that scathing glare on him.

Behind his mother, Elena looked annoyed as well.

“Forgive me. I… I was caught off-guard by your arrival.”

“I gave you plenty of chances to respond and prepare.”

You did , Edward thought, as he nodded. I just could not face any of it. Not you, or the need to respond, or the heralding you were doing for me to come back to London. I could not face any of it.

As a reunited family for the first time in more than a month, the three of them sat down. Automatically, Edward went to take his old seat across from Elena, to the right of the head of the table, but a hinting clearing of Elena’s throat reminded him.

Painstakingly, he lowered himself into his father’s former seat, taking the head of the table as the Earl of Thornshire.

“You do not sit there often enough.” His mother assessed his unfamiliarity and discomfort.

Is it not strange for you? Edward wanted to ask, but bit his tongue. To look across the table and no longer see your husband? To know I have had to take his place now?

“No,” he admitted. “I do not. When one lives alone, one tends to take their meals away from a very large, empty breakfast hall.”

“One does not have to live alone,” his mother countered delicately as she poured herself a cup of tea.

She did not look away from him yet didn’t spill a drop of liquid, either.

Behind her, the tall line of windows steamed sunlight into the room, dappling patches of light onto the table. “One has made his choices.”

“And I am content to live with them. I am not complaining.”

“You should be.” His mother’s tone was pure exasperation.

“You should be complaining, Edward. You should not be content to live this way. Alone, hiding out in the countryside… I grow tired of humoring it. It was less noticeable after the previous Season when we also came here, but now everybody is back in London they are asking where you are, why you do not chaperone your sister, why you are not more involved with her debut.”

Guilt spread through Edward, a slow trickling into his heart that he couldn’t ignore. He swallowed and glanced at Elena, who calmly met his gaze.

He didn’t know what to say, but his mother continued anyway.

“It would be nice,” she said, “if you could be there and answer those things yourself. You are the head of the family now, Edward. You have been for almost two years. How do you think it looks for Elena to answer that her brother, an earl, hides himself away? That he is a recluse without a cause.”

I have plenty of cause, Edward thought, keeping his response to himself. He had learned enough over the years that his mother could use every sharp-tongued word in the book, yet the moment that sharpness was turned back onto her she would not endure it.

He reached for a piece of toast and the platter of butter to stall for time to answer her.

“You can ignore me but you cannot ignore the fact of the matter that you must let go of this foolish notion that you do not need to marry.”

Edward had bitten into his toast, and the bite got stuck in his throat.

“ Marriage ?” He choked out. He forced a mouthful of hot tea past the lump. “I thought we were discussing Elena.”

“You are the Earl of Thornshire,” his mother interrupted.

She buttered her own toast with hard strokes of impatience.

“I will not have you unwed for another Season. You are four and twenty, Edward, and still relatively young, indeed, but your father was much younger upon marrying me. You have no legitimate heir, no wife, and you squander in this countryside manor thinking you can shut out the world.” Her hand hit the table firmly. “You cannot. Do you understand me?”

Edward stared out at her, aware of his sister’s watchful gaze.

Elena often took a neutral stance, never showing loyalty to one or the other of them.

It was loyalty to their mother when it suited her, and honoring her older brother as his rank demanded in other moments. Still, he knew his mother was right.

No matter what he chose for himself he had failed Elena. She didn’t deserve to suffer the consequences of his choices.

“I understand,” he said tightly.

“You miss your father, I understand that, Edward, I do . I am a hard woman, but not an unkind, heartless one. But even widows in love have had shorter mourning periods. You are pushing the understanding and compassion of the ton . I plead with you to return to London’s social scene this Season and search for a bride. ”

Search , he thought, as if I am a hunting dog, as if my future wife is right there for the plucking.

He despised the concept.

“You have no excuse anymore.” Elena’s voice was delicate and hesitant, as if she didn’t want to displease him, but still agreed with their mother. “We both lost Papa.”

Her words dragged through him, heavy and filling him with guilt.

You are selfish , he thought she was saying. You are selfish for drowning in your grief while I continue what is expected of me. You may have that choice as a high-ranked male, but I do not.

Yet Edward didn’t anymore, either.