The Earl's Passionate Plot

The Earl's Passionate Plot

A Regency Novella

by Susan Gee Heino

Copyright © 201
4 Susan Gee Heino
Laughingstock Publishing

Cover design by S.G. Heino

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author's imagination and are fictional or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

To Jack. Again.

No matter what life throws our way,
you're always the man with a plan.

I'm still in awe.

Other Regency Romance
by Susan Gee Heino

The Earl's
Intimate Error
The Earl's Christmas Delivery
Miss Farrow's Feathers

Miss Wheaton's Whiskers

Yuletide Lies

Passion and Pretense

Temptress in Training

Damsel in Disguise

Mistress by Mistake

Hampshire, England, April 1817

"What do you mean, I cannot stay here? This is where I live," Mariah Langley said, blinking back the
prickling tears that she simply would not allow her guest to see. "Renford Hall has been our home since... since I was five years old. My step-father's will is most clear on the matter. How can it possibly be that we have no claim here?"

"I understand
your confusion, Miss, and I'm sorry."

The weary
solicitor removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Indeed, it was very likely the man had developed a headache as she'd pelted him with questions. No headache he could possibly have, though, would in any way compare to the ache inside her soul as she was forced to hear his words.

"
Your step-father was mistaken, Miss Langley. He did not own the property outright. It remains part of the entail of the Earl of Dovington."

"
But that can't be. Step-Papa purchased it from the earl years ago. You see the paperwork there, laid out in front of you. You have to be mistaken, Mr. Milson."

"
I wish I were, miss. But it seems the earl misrepresented things when he entered that agreement with your step-father. The paperwork is fraudulent, to be blunt. Mr. Renford's ownership could be considered, in actuality, nothing more than a life-lease."

"But he purchased the property when he married my mother. It has been our home
all these twenty years!"

"And no doubt he believed his so-called title
to it was valid. But it was not. I'm so sorry, miss, but the Earl of Dovington entered into an agreement he was not allowed by law to make. When your step-father died, this property clearly reverted back to the estate."

"But my step-father has been gone
three full years now and this is the first I'm hearing of this."

"
No one knew about it, I'm afraid. The old earl was not very... conscientious. He was far more interested in drink than in managing his affairs and... well, to be honest, Miss Langley, he was not a pleasant man to be around and for the last few years of his life he did not even have a steward to oversee matters for him. At his passing, things were in a sorry state, indeed. It has taken the new earl more than a full year to sort through the tangle of legal matters and unpaid bills his father left behind."

"And this is one of those matters, I suppose
," she grumbled.

The situation was all too clear to her, despite her incredulity. Her step-father had been misled and now she and her family would be out on their ears. Drat that old Dovington! And drat the new one, too. He was likely no better than his father.

"I'm sure the new earl was thrilled to find that Renford Hall is thriving and at his disposal," she continued her grousing. "It only makes sense that he will now want to pillage what he can from it to save the rest of his destitute estate—never mind that my family and I will be left homeless."

"Your step-father did not leave you penniless, as I recall, Miss Langley. He
thought you would have the property, but that was not all he left behind, was it?"

"No, of course it was not. He did all in his power to see that we were cared for."

"Yes, he was a good man. Mr. Renford left more than sufficient funds for you, your mother and your sister to live on quite comfortably."

"Indeed he did, but that was before I knew we'd have to live
on it somewhere else, Mr. Milson. Since my step-father's passing I have used those funds he left us to modernize operations here. I've replaced barns, had all the roofing redone, and built deeper wells for the tenants. I've had extensive improvements made to this house, invested in new farming techniques and put in orchards and irrigation channels. Oh, but Mr. Milson, you simply don't understand. I dropped every last penny of my step-father's money into this house and these lands. If Renford Hall is not ours... well, then I'm afraid Mamma, Ella and I truly have nothing."

"You really have nothing left?"

"Nothing to speak of, Mr. Milson."

"Then I am sorry for you. I wish I had come with better news
today."

"
As do I," she agreed, rising from her seat and going to stare out the window over the landscape she still thought of as her own. "And to think, I prided myself on being so sensible. I expected to begin recouping our investment this autumn with the promise of excellent harvest and profit from the increased herds and the flocks. I thought I would have more than enough money to pay for Ella's introduction to society next year, just the way my step-father wanted."

"It really is a shame, Miss Milson. I'm sure if he'd had any notion that..."

The man's voice trailed off. Clearly there was nothing he could say to take away the sting of reality. Step-Papa was gone, Mamma was fading, and Ella would not have the Season she'd been looking forward to all of her young life. They'd likely end up in a garret somewhere, barely eking by. Somehow.

But this was not Mr. Milson's burden to bear. Mariah forced a smile and tried to appear hopeful when she pulled her eyes from the scenery and turned back to the matters at hand.

"At least the money Step-Papa put into trust for Ella's dowry is still there. When it comes time for her to marry, she'll have that to recommend her."

But Ella was still only seventeen. She'd not been into the world yet and seemed very much a child. Given their circumstances, it
was unlikely the girl would attract any sort of decent suitor for some time—if ever. Until then, Mariah simply couldn't see how they would live.

"And what of you, Miss Langley?
" Mr. Milson asked. "Surely you are of an age to consider matrimony. That would solve things then, wouldn't it?"

Mariah hoped the shock did not show on her face. Of course she was of an age
—she was five-and-twenty last November. But how could the man suggest such a thing? Unless... perhaps he did not know. She had assumed, since he was managing these legal affairs for them, that he knew of her background. Apparently he did not.

She was not about to educate him just now.

"As you can see, Mr. Milson, Renford Hall is not crawling with marital prospects, neither for my sister nor for myself. I'm afraid we will have to look to something a bit more immediate for rescue, not some mythical gallant bachelor on a white horse."

Mr. Milson nodded.
"Well, perhaps the new earl will see your difficulty and agree to share a percentage with you come harvest."

She had to laugh out loud at that thought.
They were to sit around and wait for alms from the earl? It was nearly as ridiculous as the suggestion of her marrying.

"
You believe the earl will share? I cannot hold such hope, Mr. Milson, given the man's heritage. Surely if his financial affairs are as bad off as you say then he will hardly be interested in sharing any profit from Renford Hall."

"Perhaps things are not as bleak for the man as they were when he first took the title
. It's been a year, after all."

One glance at Mr. Milson and she knew he did not believe
his own words. No, very clearly he knew only too well how desperate this earl was. Even if the new Dovington was the sort given to charitable actions, it was obvious he stood in no position to be charitable toward them.

"I think you know as well as I do, Mr. Milson, that
my family and I can hardly count on help from Lord Dovington."

She
would have loved to hear him dispute that, to stand up for the man's character and claim that the new earl was nothing like his dissolute father and would likely help if he could. But he did not. Mr. Milson's silence on the matter told her everything she needed to know about the current Earl of Dovington and his character. Obviously the new earl had none. She supposed she should not be surprised; like father, like son, as they say.

"So
this Dovington is no better than his dissipated sire."

She sighed and turned back to
the bright landscape outside, still as fresh and as vibrant as if her world had not just come crashing down on her. How on earth was she going to drag herself away from this place? And worse, how was she going to break this awful news to Ella? This was the only home she'd ever known, her last connection to her dear Papa. And Mamma... her health had been waning since losing Step-Papa. To take them both away from Renford Hall was pure cruelty.

"Tell me, then
," she asked the solicitor, still gazing at the hills and trees and wishing to memorize every inch of it. "How long do we have?"

"For what, Miss Langley?"

"How long before this degenerate tyrant, Dovington, shows up here to throw us out to the wolves?"

Mr. Milson did not answer. Instead, a low rumble startled her from the doorway. A voice she'd not heard before replied, words sounding more like a growl than actual
language and causing her very bones to vibrate inside her.

"Not long at all," the voice said. "The degenerate tyrant, as you say, has arrived."

She spun quickly and was left gaping in horror. The rare April sunshine spilling in through the window suddenly dimmed. The air in the room abruptly went cold. The doorway was filled by a stranger—a man. He was tall and clad all in black, from his elegant neck cloth to his long traveling coat. He'd not removed his hat and it sat at an angle atop his head, waves of nearly-black hair framing an angular face. His eyes were dark but flashed with fire as they latched onto hers.

"Lord Dovington!" Mr. Milson exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

The introduction had not been needed. Mariah knew to her deepest core who this gentleman was the instant his voice reverberated through her. Good heavens, but "tyrant" had been far too mundane a word for him. Perhaps "demi-god" suited him better.

"As for throwing you out to the wolves," the man said, not being the least bit subtle as his animal eyes roved over her, head to toe. "I suppose we shall see how long that will take."

Dovington had not been in this house for over twenty years, as best he could recall. He knew it well, though. When the footman had opened the door to him and informed him that the solicitor had gone to meet with some Miss Langley person in the study, he'd known just how to find them there.

Over the years he'd learned that showing up places unannounced gave him an advantage, and this case was no different. He'd arrived outside the study just in time to hear a beautiful woman disparaging his character. That was not surprising in itself—it had happened before. What made it unique this time, however, was the fact that he had no idea who she was.

Generally when women disparaged him, they had good reason. This one, however, was an absolute stranger to him. He could only wonder what he had done to gain such an unwarranted
—at least so far—opinion from her. From the looks of her, though, he wouldn't mind giving her reason to warrant those opinions. She was just the sort of spirited armful that might make his unpleasant return to this, his childhood home, somewhat endurable.

"I suppose an introduction is in order," he
had said, pulling off his gloves and stepping into the room. "I am the Earl of Dovington."

"Yes, that's already been established," the green-eyed spitfire replied.

He had been none too subtle with his perusal of her person and now she returned the favor. She eyed him as if he were the devil himself, walking into her parlor with mud on his boots. Frankly, he could not recall when distain and disapproval had ever looked so damn fetching on a woman.

"Well, then, perhaps you ought to enlighten me as to your identity, miss," he said.

The other gentleman in the room—a solicitor he'd met once on matters regarding this estate but whose name was unimportant to him—blustered toward them.

"My lord, this is
—"

He raised up his hand to shush the fellow. "No. Let her tell me."

Her eyes went large. Good. He'd offended her. That put her at the disadvantage.

"Very well, I shall introduce myself, sir," she said. "I am Mariah Langley."

"Yes, so I was told at the door. But who
are
you? What is your position in this house?"

"My position, sir?"

Damn it, but she'd seemed much more clever than this. He hated being disappointed this early in his acquaintance with an otherwise desirable female.

"Yes, your position. I'm told the leaseholder was a fellow named Renford. You are Miss Langley
, so you cannot be his wife nor his daughter. What are you then? His mistress, perhaps?"

"Certainly not!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Renford was my step-father, sir.
"

He shrugged. "Doesn't entirely rule out the suggestion of mistress..."

She did not rise to his bait. Instead of swooning or going pale at his bold insinuation, she simply glared at him. One elegant eyebrow cocked as if she were above even acknowledging such lewd conversation. The eyebrow itself indicated that she did acknowledge it and did not find it humorous.

"Why are you here, sir?
" she said with complete composure. "Come to merely inspect your estate, or to throw helpless women out into the street?"

Now he had to smile at her. Indeed, his first impression had been accurate. She was both feisty and clever, a potentially dangerous combination. Added to that the fact that she had all her teeth, a most excellent complexion, and the finest bosoms he'd seen outside of London meant he was going to have to tread carefully here. This was a game he dared not lose, but at the same time he was determined to enjoy.

"I've not met the other female members of this household, Miss Langley, but I daresay you would never be counted in any collection of helpless women."

"I would prefer not to be counted in any collection of women
at all, sir. We are not collectibles. But I would very much like an answer to my question."

"I daresay it hardly matters what my inten
t was upon arriving here," he said, impressed that her green eyes met his without hesitation. "You would be a very difficult woman to throw out of any place, Miss Langley."

He could easily think of a few places he might like to throw her
into
, of course. Not that he would mention them to her just now. Boudoirs and beds were likely off limits for discussion, as far as she was concerned.

"I do not worry for myself, sir, but for my mother and sister
," she said stiffly.

"Ah, Mrs. and Miss Renford. But surely they have family they can go to?"

"My step-father did not have many connections, sir."

"But what of you, then
? Surely there are other Langley's you can turn to. Where are your father's people?"

"I know nothing of them, sir. Langley was my mother's name and her people have been estranged to her for... well,
since several months before I was born."

There was only one thing Dovington could make of that statement.
The fine-bosomed spitfire was a bastard. Yet here she stood, facing him with her pretty chin stuck up in the air as if she were a royal duchess. How peculiar. And how compelling. She presented herself very much the lady of quality, yet when asked she had looked him in the eye and announced she was not. A very interesting woman, indeed. He should enjoy finding out more about her.

So he could use her to his advantage, of course. What became of this chit or her family
once he took full possession of the estate was none of his concern. He could not afford to worry over them; he had more than enough of his own worries, thanks to his damnable father and the mess he'd made of what had once been a proud and powerful title.

Also thanks to that damnable man, Dovington was well versed in the fine art of using people
for his own purposes. He'd had to learn that to survive. Fortunately, he could also thank the man for being heartless and cruel. That meant he'd had none of those useless traits like guilt and compassion to pass on to his son. The current earl could be ruthless and cold and never worry about feeling any remorse for his behavior.

Why should he? After all, he was his father's son. No one expected any better of him than that.

Clearly the solicitor did not. He was clearing his throat and turning his hat nervously in his hands as he approached the earl.

"You must understand Miss Langley's situation," the man began. "It came as a great shock to her that the property was not held in fee simple by her step-father. When the transaction was made years ago, your father led him to believe the property was not in entail and that it could be sold to him outright."

"Obviously my father lied," the earl said.

His honesty seemed to startle the man. He'd found most people reacted that way when confronted with a harsh truth that would usually be sugar-coated or skirted around.
But Dovington never coated
nor
skirted. That was both a waste of time and a waste of a perfectly good opportunity to maintain the upper hand in a situation.

"
My father was a liar, pure and simple," he continued, pleased with the look of discomfort and confusion over the solicitor's face. "He squandered his fortune and then cheated and lied to whomever it pleased him in an effort to get his hands on more money to squander. I make no apologies for him."

"Then you are willing to come to a solution that will satisfy Miss Langley
?"

"Indeed, I would be most willing to satisfy Miss Langley," Dovington said, giving her a smile she could in no way misunderstand.
"She will be happy to know I can satisfy her here for a full three days before she and her family need to vacate this home."