The Earl's Desire Page 4

  Isabel refolded the letter carefully and tucked it into her basket with the herbs, a smile on her face as she started back for home. She would show this letter to her parents and perhaps they would believe her now. Alexander wanted to marry her and this was her proof.

  Chapter 7

  “The Earl of Hertford is calling, miss.”

  Isabel looked up from the book she was reading and set it aside, giving the maid a smile. “Please, show him in.” The maid curtsied and went to fetch the Earl as Isabel looked out of the window, frowning as she saw the weather was still as bad as it had been all morning. The rain was coming down in torrents, making it nearly impossible to see the roads. While this time of year sometimes brought on snow, the temperature was still above freezing, allowing the rain to continue. She thought of Alexander and prayed he was dry and safe, now six months into his journey.

  From her vantage point, she could see the Earl’s coach in the drive, a small worry starting to form in the pit of her stomach. In this weather, the reason to travel could not be a good one.

  The parlor door opened and the Earl strode in, brushing off the droplets of rain from his jacket. Isabel rose immediately as she viewed the expression on his face, one of sadness with his eyes red rimmed. Isabel curtsied, “M’lord. You look troubled. Is something wrong?” she asked, alarmed at his disheveled appearance.

  The Earl grasped her hands into his cold ones, tears forming in his eyes. “I wanted to come tell you myself, Isabel, rather than send word by missive. This is not the sort of news I would want to receive in such a way.”

  “Tell me what?” she asked softly, her voice breaking, breath seizing in her lungs.

  “’Tis Alexander,” he said, his voice breaking. “His ship was overtaken in battle nearly a fortnight ago. They took on heavy fire and one of my son’s commanding officers watched him take a bullet to the shoulder. I just received the letter today.”

  “A bullet,” Isabel repeated, the word foreign on her tongue. For weeks now she had prayed that Alexander would come home or that he would send some type of letter communicating his safety. It had been far too long since anyone had received word from him. She could not fathom him being wounded. But a bullet to his shoulder? That could heal fairly easily. She would be there for him, help nurse him back to health. “When do we depart?” No one, not even her father was going to keep her from being at his side, even if she had to go halfway around the globe to do so.

  “No,” the Earl said firmly, a tear escaping his eye and rolling down into his neatly trimmed beard. “When Alexander was shot, h-he fell overboard, Isabel. There has been no sign of him since that day and he has not returned on any ships bound for Portsmouth.”

  Isabel listened to the Earl’s words, the recognition of what he was trying to express to her finally making sense. Alexander was gone? No, she would feel it, know that something had happened to him! He was not gone; he could not be!

  “No!” she finally shouted, wrenching her hands away from his. “This cannot be!”

  “I’m sorry, my dear,” the Earl said softly, his own grief showing on his face. “I know you were close to my son. I know he loved you.”

  “He’s not gone!” she exclaimed, wanting to run out into the rain to ease the pain that was starting to spread in her limbs. “He is alive, I tell you! I know it in my soul!”

  “If he had survived the frigid waters, which is unlikely,” the Earl said gently, “he would have been picked up by the French or Spanish fleets and likely executed. I know this is difficult.”

  Her mother walked into the room and hurried to her daughter’s side as Isabel fell into a heap on the floor, tears streaming down her face. She felt as though her heart had been ripped from her chest, the pain nearly unbearable.

  “I am sorry,” the Earl said as her mother wrapped her arms around her. “W-we will all miss him terribly. My only son.” His voice caught in his throat. “His mother has taken to her bed with grief. Is there anything I can do for you, child?”

  “I will take care of her,” her Isabel’s mother answered softly. “My deepest condolences to you and the Countess, my Lord,” her mother offered to the Earl. He nodded and walked out of the room, the sound of the rain growing harder as it pelted the roof unforgivingly.

  “He’s not dead,” Isabel whispered, sobbing. “I would know it; I would feel it!”

  “I know, dear,” her mother cooed, her touch comforting. “It is a shock. We all loved Alexander dearly.”

  Isabel wanted to tell her mother that she had loved him more than life itself. He had been her best friend, her lifelong companion, and her future husband.

  “We shall go to London,” her mother announced while the tears streamed down Isabel’s face unchecked. “The season has just begun and we shall leave this sadness. Some time away in the city will do you good.”

  “N-no,” Isabel said as firmly as she could in the state that she was in. She did not want to go to London. She wanted to be here, to grieve for Alexander privately and without the prying eyes of society. Most of all, Isabel wanted to be as far away from her cousin, William, as humanly possible.

  “I do not want to leave this place. I belong here, nowhere else. I still feel him when I’m here, like he has not left me.” Going to London wasn’t going to make the pain go away. On the contrary, she did not want the pain to go away. She loved Alexander and there was no one that could ever replace him in her heart.

  Chapter 8

  Isabel dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief as she watched the priest perform the final rites over the deep hole in the consecrated ground where the coffin of the Countess of Hertford would have her final resting place. How the last few months had changed for the Earl of Hertford’s family. First, Alexander. And now, only three months after news of her only son’s fate in service to the navy, the Countess succumbed to the ague. She had never fully recovered from the grief of losing Alexander, the once lively Countess having retreated almost exclusively to her bedroom, rarely seen by anyone outside of her husband and her maid. Isabel had visited the countess once with her mother, just after the Earl had informed them of Alexander’s fate, finding the woman nothing more than a shell of her former self.

  Despite their differences, Isabel being aware of the Countess’ attempts to keep her and Alexander apart, she held no ill will for the woman who should have been her future mother-in-law. Isabel knew that the countess loved her son and was only trying to secure his happiness, however misguided her actions to bring it about. Seeing the broken woman had been heart wrenching.

  The Earl leaned down and threw a handful of dirt on the coffin, then straightened and stared straight ahead. Although stoic in his stance, he appeared a man who was tortured with grief, aging ten years in a matter of months. Isabel was uncertain that she would have recognized him had she passed him in the village.

  The priest concluded the benediction and the small group of mourners, most of whom were tenants on the Earl’s estate, slowly departed from the cemetery, leaving Isabel standing alongside the Earl and his younger brother, The Honorable Baldwin St. John. Isabel had often heard from Alexander that his father and his Uncle Baldwin had not been on the best of terms in past years. Having grown up in the shadow of his older brother, Baldwin always resented his position in the family. He used it as an excuse to be irresponsible and petulant. He was a tall man with a lean frame, and while his hawk like disposition was none too friendly, he was still a fairly attractive man resembling his brother, the Earl. Now that the Earl’s only son was gone, Baldwin found himself the heir apparent to the entire estate should his older brother predecease him. Judging from the Earl’s countenance, Isabel was saddened by the thought that his time remaining on this earth was likely not long.

  With a sigh, she walked over to the Earl after first paying her respects to the memorial stone bearing Alexander’s name. It had taken her weeks after hearing of his fate before she could bring herself to the grounds of the Earl’s estate, first sitting for hours b
eneath the tree fort where she and Alexander had spent so many happy hours as children, and finally, exhausted from weeping, collapsing on this stone where his name was engraved. Now, she visited both locations every week, placing fresh wildflowers when she could find them from the fields where they used to race each other, and where Alexander had stolen their first kiss.

  “Lord Hertford, I am so sorry for your loss,” she replied as he grasped her hands lightly. “If there is anything I can do . . .”

  “Who is this delectable creature?” Baldwin interrupted, his keen eyes on her. Isabel shivered involuntarily, pulling her black shawl about her shoulders tightly. His salacious expression reminded her of William even if his features were closer to those of Alexander.

  “This is Isabel Wyndham,” the Earl replied softly, giving her a fond smile. “Her family’s estate borders our own. Isabel, please meet my brother, Baldwin.”

  “Mr. St. John,” she replied, inclining her head as she curtsied.

  “My dear,” he said with a bow.

  Obviously preoccupied, Baldwin turned his attention back to the Earl. “I have ridden to the tree line,” Baldwin sniffed. “There are many improvements that need to be made to some of the irrigation ditches along the property that they may not leave your neighbors in dire straits. You have let them go too long without repairs, brother.”

  The Earl said nothing, his expression unchanging. Isabel could not believe the insensitivity of Baldwin to have such a conversation on this day. The Earl had just buried his wife, had recently lost his only son, and his brother should have been comforting him rather than chastising him.

  “I happen to be of the mind that the Hertford estate has flourished under the Earl’s watchful eye,” Isabel spoke in the Earl’s defense.

  “So you are familiar with the grounds?” Baldwin asked. What an impudent young woman. He reassessed Isabel with more interest.

  Isabel nodded, biting her tongue for having been so bold to have spoken when not addressed directly.

  “Well then, I would like to request your presence on the morrow for a carriage ride through the gardens. I hear they are extensive and I would enjoy a refreshing eye other than my brother’s. After all, all of the estate will come to me one day.”

  “I would rather not,” Isabel replied dispassionately. “My mother requires my presence at home.” She would rather listen to her mother complain about Isabel’s lack of interest to secure her future than go anywhere with such an insensitive man.

  “Leave us a moment, Baldwin,” the Earl said quietly, his sad eyes on Isabel. “I should like to discuss something with Isabel in private.”

  “Your servant, brother,” Baldwin said, bowing at the waist before striding away. Isabel could not believe that these two men were even related. The poor Earl! She would look after him. That would be what Alexander would want her to do.

  “It would greatly please me if you would accept my brother’s request, Isabel,” the Earl said.

  “My lord?” Isabel’s eyes widened.

  “I have always regarded you like a daughter,” he continued, giving her a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And I would consider this a personal favor if you would escort my brother tomorrow.”

  Isabel looked at the Earl and sighed inwardly, wishing she could just say no and walk away. But this was Alexander’s father, the man she loved.

  “Of course,” she replied. She would accompany Baldwin on this carriage ride and then consider the favor done.

  Chapter 9

  “And I cannot believe that my brother has allowed these tenants to stay without payment. When I become the landowner, I will evict them straightaway if they do not pay their debt.”

  Isabel bit the inside of her cheek to keep from retorting, her smile so tight that her cheeks were hurting from the effort. For the past hour she had been forced to listen to his objections on the entire estate, from the tenants to the supposed crumbling façade of the estate manor. While it looked perfectly fine to her, Baldwin was unhappy with it all.

  When he finally deposited her on the steps of her home, Isabel gratefully fled indoors and up to her room. He had been horrid and she was glad to be rid of him. When she descended the stairs a short time later for dinner, her parents were waiting for her, smiles on their faces.

  “Sit down, darling,” her mother replied as the servants brought out some of the dishes for the first course. “We have some wonderful news.”

  Isabel took a seat in her customary chair and waited for their news. Her father’s smile was wide as he sat at the head of the table. “We have accepted a proposal of marriage on your behalf, daughter.”

  “Oh no,” she replied, horrified. “Not William. I will not marry him!”

  “No, not William.” Her mother replied, giving her a disapproving look at her outburst. “Baldwin has asked for your hand in marriage, Isabel. He is looking for a suitable wife to carry on his family’s name and was very impressed by you today. He believes you will make the perfect countess.”

  Isabel was equally horrified by this change in events. Marry Baldwin? Why he was even older than cousin William and a dreadful man at that. She abhorred her entire visit with him today and was grateful when the experience had been over and done with. Besides, she knew nothing of the man other than his origin. “I-I cannot marry him,” she said, rising from the table. “I will not.”

  Her father looked at her sternly, not a trace of compassion for her in his expression. The look frightened her. After he had agreed she would not have to marry William, Isabel had assumed that her father understood her, and had decided that she should pick her own suitor when the time came. For now, she was still mourning the loss of Alexander. Apparently she had misjudged her father. He was still attempting to control her life.

  “You will marry him, Isabel. I have already accepted on your behalf. ’Tis time for you to consider your future.” Mr. Wyndham speared a large chunk of roast and shoved it into his mouth, considering the conversation closed.

  Isabel looked at her mother, imploring her to her aid as her eyes welled with tears.

  “Alexander is gone,” her mother added compassionately. “And you have no other suitors unless you are willing to marry William.”

  “I wish to marry neither,” Isabel said quietly. “I loved Alexander and no one will replace him in my heart. I wish you to understand that fact.” Without waiting for a response, Isabel fled from the room and down the hall until she was outdoors in the clean air where she could breathe once more. Even though she did not have her bonnet nor her shawl for the cool weather, Isabel began to walk the familiar path of long ago, the path that connected the two lands together, the path that had once led her to Alexander. It made her think of happier times, when Alexander was alive and well. Many a day they would meet halfway, both excited to tell each other about what had happened since they were last together. He had truly been her other half and she was never going to fully accept that he was gone nor was she going to ever be able to replace him with the likes of Baldwin or William or any other man.

  “You are very deep in thought.” Isabel looked up, startled, to find the Earl riding toward her, his large black horse towering over her.

  “My Lord,” she replied as he pulled along beside her. “I was reminiscing of happier times.”

  The Earl smiled tenderly as he dismounted to walk alongside her. “I find myself doing the same thing, my dear. Once, I was a wealthy man in family with a wife whom I cared for and a fine son to carry on my name. Now, I find myself with neither.”

  “You have me and my family,” Isabel reminded him gently. “I shall never abandon you.”

  “Ah, Isabel,” the Earl sighed. “I can see why my Alexander loved you so.” Isabel felt a tear trickle down her cheek at the mention of her beloved’s name, wishing he was with her now so this would all be so different. They could take care of the estate and of his father together if he were still walking this earth and, day by day, she believed him more and more not
to be. Otherwise, he would be fighting to get back to all that he loved. “I hear that Baldwin has asked for your hand in marriage?”

  “I have heard the news myself just now,” Isabel said sadly. “And I choose not to accept, my lord. I cannot. I loved your son and would rather live in his memory than be married to a man I do not care for.” She blushed, not wanting to insult the Earl. After all, Baldwin was his brother.

  The Earl stopped his horse and moved to stand in front of her. She could see the lines of grief etched on his face, wondering how he was able to still get out of bed from day to day. “I urge you to reconsider,” he said softly. “I am ill, Isabel, and fear I do not have long in this world. I would like to see someone that cares for the manor and the lands as I have in a position to ensure they are passed on to future generations.”

  Isabel’s heart skipped at the thought of the Earl dying as well. Was that why he seemed so at peace with the fact that both his son and his wife were gone? She would be inconsolable, as she had been when she had learned of Alexander’s fate, yet the Earl seemed somehow tranquil.

  “I do not think I can marry him,” she said. “He and I are incompatible.” It grieved her to be unkind to the Earl about his only remaining relative.

  “I understand how you feel,” the Earl answered, slapping the reins against his palm as he slowly started walking his horse along the path, Isabel by his side. “It is a rare occurrence that one finds a love like you and Alexander had. And I am sure you believe you will never find happiness with another.”

  The Earl drew in a breath. He knew that he was asking much of Isabel. “I beg you, my dear, please give it time. While my brother might seem disagreeable now, he was not always such. I believe you could change him back into the once gentle and kind person I remember him to be.”