A Most Unsuitable Earl (Regency Collection Book 3)

A Most

Unsuitable

Earl

Ruth Ann Nordin

Chapter One

April
1815

“When are you going to find a respectable young lady to marry?”

Ethan Silverton, the Lord of Edon, looked up from his book in time to see his very unhappy mother enter his library.  He slammed the book shut and slid it under his chair before she realized he’d been reading Shakespeare.

She glanced at where he put the book and made the sign of the cross.  “You’ll be the death of me yet.  I don’t even want to know what you’re reading.  If only you’d read one of the books your father invested money in.” She gave a mournful sigh and
scanned the many books lining the shelves.

“Mother, please.  You know I find history and the like boring.” He grimaced.  Truly, he did.  History, biography, politics…  They only served
one purpose: to put a gentleman
to sleep.

She
set her plump frame
in the chair across from him and wrung her hands.  “You were
mentioned
in the
Tittletattle
again.”

His ears perked up
at the mention of the scandalsheets
.  “I was?”

“Don’t act so pleased.
”

He stopped smiling and gave her a s
olemn nod
.  “You’re right.  I have behaved abhorrently.” After a pause, he added, “What did I get caught doing?”

She let out a cry and pressed her hand to her forehead.

“Oh come now, Mother.  It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“It’s got to be one of the worst things you’ve done yet.  Prostitutes and your own mistresses are one thing, but you were caught with Lord Hedwrett’s mistress…and in broad daylight where everyone could see you!”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“No?”

“No.  It was twilight.”

She let out a
nother
cr
y.
  “Why can’t you settle down with a good, respectable lady?  Why
must you insist on dallying with such…such…women?”

His brown eyes grew wide.  “I’ve never heard you talk this way.”

“I’m sorry, Ethan, but you bring out the worst in me.  When your father died, I promised
h
im that I would make sure you go
t
an heir
.  Only, there is no good lady and no son.” She gave him a hesitant look.  “At least no legitimate son.  Are there illegitimate sons?”

“No.  I don’t think so.  At least no one’s mentioned it.”

“Please, please marry a good lady this Season.
”

He ruffled his blond hair and groaned.  “I’ve been trying.”

“Not hard enough.”

“I’ve be
en going to each Season for
five
years.”

“And with each passing year, it’s getting harder and harder to convince a proper lady that you’re worth marrying.  As much as ladies desire a titled gentleman, they still have their limits.”

Crossing his
legs, he leaned back in the chair and watched her as she agonized over his future.  He knew she meant well, but the responsibility of the title never appealed to him.  How he wished he could hand it
over
to his cousin who could then take over the estate so he could live a quiet life—out of the limelight—in his cottage.  What more did a gentleman really need than the solitude of good books and the peacefulness of nature?  No, instead, he was expected to run from one social event to another and frequent White’s.  At least in the winter, he could return to Kestrel.  But no.  It was time to be in London and do the whole running to and fro thing all over again.

Inspired, he straightened.  “I have a wonderful idea!”

Though she seemed hesitant, she asked, “You do?”

“Let’s give my title to Clarence.  You know he’ll do well with it!”

“Not this again.”

“But why not?”

“It’s not as easy as you
think
it is
to hand over your title to him, and if it were, I
would
forbid it.
I
t’s an honor to have one.  Y
ou shouldn’t make light of it
.”

He sunk back into the chair.  He knew she was going to say that.  She always said that.  No matter what vile thing he pulled, she clung to her obsession
that he’d pass
on the
title to a future heir
.

“There’s a ball tomorrow night,” she began, and he groaned.  “Now don’t act that way, Ethan.  I want you to put on your best clothes and be charming to the ladies.” She paused for a moment.  “Not too charming, mind you.  I don’t want you to lure an innocent out to the gardens.  Granted, a scandal would secure a marriage, but you’ve lived so recklessly, my heart can’t take that kind of betrothal.  What we need is an honorable engagement to an honorable lady.”

This wasn’t the first time she’d made such a declaration, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last.  But ei
ther way, it wouldn’t matter
.  He was very careful to avoid anything that might mean he had to marry a lady.  No one insisted on marriage if the lady in question was a mistress or a lady of ill repute.  They were, by far, the safer bet if he felt inclined to talk to a member of the fairer sex.

“I’ll attend the ball,” he said because he knew it would make her happy.  Never mind the fact that she’d be disappointed tomorrow evening when there was no lady who would be a possible daughter-in-law.  Just the hope alone would have to suffice.

Relaxing, she smiled.  “Thank you.  Maybe this Season will be the one!”

Maybe it would be the Season where she would give up her nonsense of him finding a wife.

Standing up, she motioned to the book under his chair.  “I’ll let you return to,” she sighed, “your reading.”

His eyebrow
s
arched as he watched her leave.  Once she shut the door, he picked
up
the book and resumed reading
.  He could only imagine the talk of
the T
on if anyone found out he was reading something so noble
as Shakespeare
.  Such a thing wouldn’t be good at all to his stellar reputation as a rake.

***

“I’m doomed to be a spinster,” Lady Catherine
Morgan lamented as she examined her
reflection in the mirror
.  “Nothing you
can
do will work.”

She turned from her vanity, unable
to look at herself anymore.  What was the use?  She already knew why none of the gentlemen had taken an interest in her.  Her
curly
reddish blonde hair
was pleasant enough, but i
t was the only thing on her that made her stand out.  She wasn’t ugly, but
she wasn’t pretty either.  She was somewhere in the middle.  The same was true for her figure.  The corset helped to bring out
her
c
urves, but her breasts still appeared
smaller
and her hips
a little wider than desired.  N
othing
, however,
could
compensate
for her most undesirable trait of
all: her lack of personality.

Opal, her lady’s maid,
put the last pin in her hair.  “You mustn’t give up.  Sometimes it takes a while to find a husband.”

“Yes, but in my case, ‘a while’ is an eternity.  My only consolation is that I’m my father’s daughter instead of his son.  I’d hate to think the fate of the title rested on my shoulders.”

“You’re much too nervous when it comes to social events.  Go there to have a good time.”

Opal didn’t understand.  But how could she?  She was a lady’s maid, not the daughter of a duke.  “Sometimes I envy you.  You don’t have to go to balls and hope that this will be the night you can finally me
et the
gentleman who’ll marry you so your father will feel better about your future.”

“His G
race is a good gentleman.  He wants to see you happy.”

“Yes, I know.” And she couldn’t fault him
for that
. 
“Please don’t try to console me anymore, Opal.  I know you mean well, but
my course has been set.  T
here is no good in denying it.”

With a sigh,
Opal put the pins away.  “I understand your plight, my lady, but I assure you that these things happen when you least expect it.”

“You’re very kind to say that.” Opal had said the same thing last
year, and though
at the time
Catherine thought she might be right, this time she held a much more pessimistic point of view.

“Come, my lady, t
he guests will be here soon
.”

Reluctant, Catheri
ne rose to her feet.  Her satiny-silver
dress swirled around her feet.
A panel of ruffles enhanced the skirt and her inserted waist made of black fabric accented the gown.  T
he dress had a low neckline, and she wore a
bronze
necklace and earrings to match.

Had this been her first Season, she
would have felt like a princess
.  But as she studied her reflection one last time, she felt more like a la
dy on the brink of spinsterhood.  A
ll the dress did was wave a banner begging for someone to marry her.
It glittered and shone, but it did nothing else.

Sighing, she left her bedchamber and headed down the stairs where her father was talking to the butler.  She put on a smile because she didn’t want her father to
know how much she dreaded
another Season
.  He’d been so kind to her
.

He turned his gaze to her and his lips curled up.  “Catherine, you look lovely tonight.  I knew that dress would be perfect for you.” He gave her arm a friendly pat and added, “You look just like your mother.”

“I wish I remembered her.”

“She’d be proud of you and the fine young lady you’ve become.”

She’d like to think so.  From time to time, she’d go to her father’s library and study her mother’s portrait.  He had it done shortly after their marriage, so she was still in full
health.  A year after she w
as born, her mother grew ill, and w
ith
in two months
, she
passed away.
There were times when she yearned for her, and r
ight now, she thought
her mother
might
be the only one who’d
understand
her situation
.

“Catherine,” her father began, interrupting her thoughts, “
let’s
go to the ballroom and wait for the guests.  I need to make sure the orchestra is ready.”

Nodding, she followed him and examined the
ball
room.  Her dear father had spared no expense for the evening. Every candl
e in the chandeliers was
lit.  T
he
orchestra waited in
the balcony above the room to play.  A
n elaborate assortment of foods and drinks rested on the t
ables
. 
T
he entire place was decorated with all the
pageantry that would make even Lady Cadwalader gr
een with envy.

She couldn’t help but feel sorry for her father.  He was doing everything he could to attract a respectable nobleman for her, and she feared it was all for nothing.
  No.  Tonight was going to end as all the other
nights had
.  There would be no suitor.  Her father would be disappointed.  She’d end up telli
ng herself that being without a husband
wa
sn’t the worst thing that could happen to her
.  In fact, given enough t
ime, she might even be content.
  But deep down, she didn’t believe she’d ever be content unless she had a husband and children.  And that made her think of herself as the most pitiful lady of all.

***

Ethan took care to pull the cloak further over his head so no one would see him as he made his way down the street.  He didn’t have much time.  In half an hour, his mother would expect him to be at the ball the Duke of Rumsey was hosting.  It was ridiculous t
hat he was a grown gentleman who still had to obey
the demands of his mother. But his mother was a good lady.  He couldn’t fault her for trying
to get him married
.  She was doing what
any concerned mother would do.

Lowering his head so Lord and Lady Roderick wouldn’t notice him as their carriage passed by, he hurried his pace and turned the co
rner of the next street.  He made sure no one was in sight then
ran up the
steps to the townhouse
.  H
e knocked on the door, using his usual three taps and waited
a second before adding two more so the owner would know it was him.