The Earl's Desire Read online

  The Earl’s Desire

  Catherine Windsor

  Live Life Fully Media

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Bonus: An Excerpt from The Duke’s Deception

  About the Author

  Also by Catherine Windsor

  Copyright © 2016 by Catherine Windsor

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-63536-001-1

  Prologue

  “You can’t catch me! Not with those big feet!”

  Thirteen year old Isabel Wyndham ran along the path, dodging roots that stuck out from the trees as she attempted to be as surefooted as possible. Alexander’s footsteps grew louder behind her, gaining on her and she thought for a moment about teasing him further. Normally, he was faster, beating her to the tree fort they had secretly fashioned on his father’s property deep in the woods. But, today, she had managed to trick him and had gained an advantage.

  As the fort came into sight, she slowed her pace, reaching out to touch the rough bark that signaled she was victorious. Alexander arrived mere moments later, his breath harsh to her ears. “You beat me.” He exhaled loudly and filled his lungs with a gasping breath.

  She turned to see him red faced, despite the coolness of the morning air, and she offered him a satisfied grin. “I did, and I will do it again tomorrow!”

  The moment the words were out of her mouth she wanted to force them back in, pain immediately filling her chest at the reality of what the following day would bring. After her entire thirteen years of having Alexander only a short walk away, he would not be there tomorrow.

  “Tis fine,” Alexander replied, leaning up against the tree with a huff. “I have been reminded all morning that I am to depart for Eton as soon as the sun rises. I should just run away tonight so that they are unable to find me in the morning.”

  “Oh, posh, Alexander,” Isabel replied, swallowing hard at the thought of her best friend not being there with her in the morning, or any morning afterward for quite some time. She and Alexander, Viscount St. John, only son of the Earl of Hertford, had been friends since the cradle. Their families’ estates bordered each other. With neither having any other siblings to play with, it seemed natural that they forged a bond. But now, that bond was about to be broken and Isabel could almost not bear it. Who would she spend her days with now? And Alexander? He shall meet new and exciting friends at Eton and forget all about her. She met his gaze and tried to hide the sadness that had crept in.

  “You are positively dreadful for leaving me,” she finally said, her lower lip jutting forward in a pout while knowing that it truthfully wasn’t his fault.

  “I find no pleasure in leaving,” he admitted in a huff. “I do not wish to receive a gentleman’s education, as my father calls it. I want to learn the land, ride my horse, sail the seas, and—”

  “Spend time with me?” Isabel finished with a smile.

  Alexander grinned and nudged her lightly on the shoulder. “Of course, silly. Who else would I spend time with? You are the only one who I can talk to.”

  Isabel walked around the tree, noting the makeshift fort where they had played for years. Her own mother had started to discuss the need to send Isabel to finishing school so that she could learn to be a lady and not run around in the woods with a boy. Isabel detested the thought of having to learn to dance or how to curtsey properly. She had no need for that. “Perhaps I shall run away as well,” she announced, coming full circle around the tree to once more stand beside Alexander who was still leaning against the tree. “I shall run away to London and become a courtesan to the royal court.”

  “That is preposterous, Isabel, and you know it,” Alexander answered with a laugh. “You would never shame your family by doing such.”

  Isabel sighed, knowing that Alexander was right. She would never do something so rash, but the thought of being able to control her own destiny was so alluring. They both wished to do different things than what their parents had laid out for them. Why must they follow in those footsteps? Why couldn’t they do something completely unorthodox?

  “Besides,” Alexander continued, pulling a leaf from a nearby tree branch and busying his hands by tearing it into little pieces. “I have no other option but to journey to Eton and become the gentleman my father expects me to be. You will learn to be a lady while I am away and when I return, we shall marry. You shall be my Countess.”

  “Marry?” Isabel asked, surprise in her voice. Sure, she held a great affection for Alexander, but she hadn’t thought about marriage between the two of them . . . until now. He was her best friend, the one person who knew her better than anyone on earth. Thus, upon her thinking of it, it did seem only natural that they marry. “Is that your desire?”

  “Of course,” he replied, pushing away from the tree and brushing his hands together, the pieces of the leaf falling to the ground. “We enjoy each other’s company and I can tolerate you longer than any boy in the village. Besides, I know all of your favorite things.”

  She pushed at him, knowing it would illicit his smirk. “You will be lost without me, Alexander, admit such.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him. Isabel squeaked as her free hand collided with his chest. She’d never been so close to him, close enough to feel his heartbeat under her fingertips. It was beating erratically and she was suddenly unsure of what to think or say.

  “I have always wanted to be a Countess,” she said. Her lips turned up at the edges in a sly smile as she curtsied and announced, “Lady Isabel, Countess of Hertford.” Her voice was wistful as she twirled in front of the future Earl.

  “So that is all I am to you? A title?” Alexander’s hurt expression almost tricked Isabel to thinking she had truly wounded her friend when he broke into a broad smile.

  “You are correct, Isabel. I shall be lost without you,” he said softly, his eyes searching hers. “So you will become my wife.” Without warning, Alexander’s lips touched hers gently.

  Isabel’s mind barely registered that Alexander was kissing her before he pulled away, his cheeks stained red. She brought her fingers up to her lips and looked at him, her own cheeks flushing with surprise.

  “Oh,” she gasped.

  A sly grin formed over his lips and he shrugged before he turned, taking off down the path. “I will also beat you back!” he called as he disappeared around the bend. Isabel straightened, the feel of Alexander’s kiss still on her lips, the brief contact still tingling on her skin. She had been kissed. Her first kiss and it was from Alexander. There was no other boy that she would want to kiss her. With a soft sigh, she smiled and started down the path, intent to catch him before he reached the house.

  Chapter 1

  “Isabel, you positively must listen to reason. It is time for you to snap out of this foolish notion and pay attention to what is going on around you.”

  Isabel sighed, picking crumbs from her bread with no real thought to eating it, as her mother rambled on
as she did every morning. It was just after ten o’clock and Isabel had already caught a glimpse of the sun, hoping that she could snatch a few scones from the breakfast table and slip outdoors to enjoy the morning in the gardens without her mother seeing her.

  Unfortunately, Mrs. Wyndham was waiting for her daughter in the breakfast parlor, a stern look crossing her face as she spotted her only child trying to sneak through to avoid her. For the last half hour, Isabel had been reduced to listening to her mother as she dictated everything that Isabel was not doing for their family. It was the most tiring conversation.

  “It is not a foolish notion,” Isabel replied, laying down the piece of bread and pushing her plate away. “I fully intend to marry Alexander when he returns from the conflict.”

  “Oh, Isabel,” her mother sighed, laying down her own fork. “Alexander has no thought to marry you, my dearest. That was merely a childish fantasy.”

  “It was not,” Isabel replied angrily, thinking of the day long ago when Alexander had announced she was to become his Countess one day and kissed her. It had been the single most important day of her life and no matter what her mother said, she held onto her belief that she and Alexander were destined for marriage despite his lack of conviction the last time she had seen him.

  “If he wanted to marry you he would have asked your father for permission before he ran off against his own father’s wishes to join the navy.” Isabel’s mother never bothered to try and soften her words. With a bob of her head, she declared again, “foolish.”

  Isabel’s thoughts drifted back to the summer Alexander had returned briefly from Eton and the anticipation she had felt about seeing him again. Then to her disappointment at how little time they had actually seen one another, none of it alone together.

  Alexander had been serious and sullen during that brief visit to his family’s estate, not at all the light-hearted youth she had played with in the forest for years. Nor the shy, but bold teenager who had stolen her first kiss. She had tried to eavesdrop on the conversations between him, his father and the other men when her family had been invited to the Earl’s estate for dinner to celebrate Alexander’s commencement. The men had retired for their cigars and brandy while she had been gently pulled into a separate room with the ladies to discuss the latest village gossip, leaving her unable to decipher the subject of the men’s discourse.

  On the carriage ride back to their own home that evening, Isabel could not wait to ask her father if he had any news for her from his discussions with the Earl and Alexander.

  “What news might that be, Isabel?” he’d asked.

  Certain he was teasing her to build excitement before he revealed that Alexander wished for her hand in marriage, she tittered, “Come now, father, do not keep me in suspense. Did you discuss my future?”

  “I’m sorry, Isabel,” began Mr. Wyndham. “There was no lighthearted talk this evening. If you must know, most of the talk was political and about what is happening around the conflict with Napoleon’s armies. The Earl is quite dismayed by Alexander’s behavior. He has announced that he shall join the navy as a midshipman to defend king and country.”

  He may as well have kicked his daughter in the stomach, such was Isabel’s reaction to her father’s pronouncement.

  “But we shall be married,” she whispered.

  “I do not think so, daughter. Alexander is departing early tomorrow morning to join his classmates on the journey to Portsmouth. The Earl tried to forbid it. Alexander is his only heir and it is important for his family’s future that he remain safe to inherit the Earl’s title and lands upon his death. Such irresponsible behavior from that boy. The Earl is beside himself.”

  Mr. Wyndham slowly shook his head as he recalled the heated words from the previous evening between the Earl and his headstrong son. “Alexander argued that his classmates were also sons of peers, but the Earl was quick to remind him that most were second or third sons and not sole heirs to the family title and property. It was most unpleasant to witness the boy’s defiance. You can forget him, my dear. You are now of an age where you shall attend dances and we will find you an appropriate suitor and husband, never fear.”

  Isabel had been in anguish for days following Alexander’s departure. Anguish turned to anger for his refusal to face her and declare his love. Anger turned to shame, at herself for not recognizing his resolve by taking a stand against his father. Shame turned to pride, for the man she loved and would marry, and for his courage to put himself at risk to defend their country.

  After she had passed through the range of emotions during the weeks following his departure, she settled into a routine of walking the grounds of her family’s land, visiting with the tenants and their children, reading, and writing letters to her beloved Alexander despite no way of posting them to him. Much to her parents’ chagrin, she turned down every invitation to balls, dinners and dances where she may have mingled with the single lords and ladies looking to make a match, insistent that she was already promised.

  True, he did not ask for her hand in marriage during his short visit before departing for the conflict, but neither had he given her reason to believe that he did not still hold to the promise they had made years earlier. It was not as if he was betrothed to another. They were meant to be together as man and wife. Isabel was convinced of that. And just as Alexander felt it his duty to fight in the campaign against France, she felt it her duty to wait for his return.

  “I’m sorry, my darling. But it is,” her mother insisted.

  Isabel started at the sound of her mother’s voice, snapping her back to the present. “It is what?” she asked.

  “Foolish, dear,” she said. “Alexander returned years ago and not once did he make any intentions known to us that he expected you to wait for his return from the war.”

  Isabel inhaled sharply, trying to quell the hurt welling up beneath her breastbone. The memory was still as fresh as it had been the day Alexander had left to join the war.

  “Your father and I have been discussing your future,” her mother continued. “And we both agree it is time for you to be wed. Almost all of the other ladies of your age in the village are either married, already with child, or at the very least betrothed. There shall soon be no suitable suitors left for you if you continue with this incessant stubbornness.”

  “I am promised to Alexander,” she said firmly, not willing to give up the fight.

  Her mother slammed her hand down on the table, causing them both to jump slightly. “Enough of this nonsense, Isabel Wyndham! If that young man had truly wanted to make you his wife, he would have made an offer to your father when last he was here! He left you without any thought of a future with you and I believe it is time that you leave that foolishness behind. If he truly meant to wed you, would he not write to you feverishly?”

  “He is busy with his duties mother,” Isabel swallowed, wishing that Alexander had written letters to her over the years. “I cannot expect him to shirk his important responsibilities defending the country to jot down a few silly words to me.” In reality, what bothered Isabel most was that her mother’s words rang too true. Oh, Alexander, why have you forgotten me.

  Isabel’s father entered the room and filled his plate at the buffet before settling down in his chair. “How are my girls this morning?” he asked as the servant came to pour his customary morning tea.

  “We are discussing Isabel’s future,” her mother replied, picking up her cup. “She is being stubborn, as usual.”

  “Well, she can be that,” her father smiled, picking up his own cup. “But, alas, daughter, there is a plan and ’tis not the one you have been spouting for years.”

  “What plan?” Isabel asked, worried. Her father smiled at her and picked up his fork. “No need to worry, my dear. I only wish to ensure both your future and the security of this family. I received a letter last month from cousin William. He is coming for a visit.”

  Isabel’s stomach lurched as she thought of her father’s secon
d cousin, a man ten years her senior. He was a corpulent man with sweaty hands and foul smelling breath that stemmed from his fondness for peppered sardines. She detested when he came to visit, mainly because he found every opportunity to either embrace her or attempt to place a sloppy kiss on her cheek, thereby subjecting her to his detestable breath and clammy touch. Most of the time she hid in her bedroom, feigning a headache until he took his leave.

  “Oh, that is positively wonderful!” her mother replied, all traces of anger gone from her expression. “He has been doing very well in India, according to his letters.”

  “Yes, he has,” her father remarked, looking at his daughter. “William is returning to settle down in England now and has expressed his yearning to reconnect with you, Isabel, and court you.”

  “Court me?!” she exclaimed, appalled at the thought. “Well that is the most ridiculous babble I have ever heard. You know, father, that I am promised to Alexander, but even if I were not, cousin William would hardly be a suitable suitor.”

  “And why not, daughter?” her father asked, raising a brow.

  Isabel exhaled a breath. “He is positively uncouth. Do you not remember how he acted at the winter ball during his last visit? The poor Baroness Tinsdell had to retreat to her dressing room to change her dress from his trudging on her train.” Isabel cringed at the memory of the buffoonish man dancing clumsily with the horrified lady, nearly knocking down more than one couple in the process. The Baroness had been so embarrassed that Isabel had sent flowers around the next morning on behalf of her cousin, apologizing for his ill-mannered behavior.

  “I’m certain he has changed since then,” her mother replied. “Besides, he will have you as his guide through society.”

  “I do not wish to be his guide and I rather doubt he has improved his manners while living abroad.” Isabel said firmly, causing both of her parents to stare at her dumbfounded.