A Widowed Earl’s Chance at Love (Preview)

Chapter One

End of the season, London, 1812

Butterflies.

Isabelle Sutton glanced around the edge of the pillar and noted the many swishing movements of fans. 

“Isabelle! You need to stop hiding!” Baroness Sinclair’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife. 

Wincing at having been caught, Isabelle appeared from behind a pillar and fanned her flushed cheeks. Her large brown eyes guiltily scanned the group of nearby debutants who shot disapproving glances in her direction. 

She had been hoping to go unnoticed for the rest of the evening, yet nobody was ever more determined than a widowed aunt who wanted to see her niece married. Tendrils of her light brown hair tickled the back of her neck after escaping from the elaborate pins. 

“Just look at your dress; you have all but ruined the muslin with your childish behaviour.” Aunt Alice vigorously fanned her face, attempting to hide her expression as she pursed her lips into a sour look of displeasure. Her dark eyes matched the heavy fabric of her outdated brown dress, while her grey hair had been pulled tightly into her signature bun at the back of her head. 

“I do not care what my dress looks like, Aunt Alice. I will not be made to dance with another gentleman. I would rather chop this dress into tiny pieces and eat it.” She tilted her head to the side defiantly and raised an eyebrow. 

Aunt Alice opened her mouth to respond when she was interrupted. 

“There she is, I am so glad that you found her.” Miss Caroline Sedgewick came strutting towards them with the many layers of her ruffled pink dress lifted off the floor. Her dull blonde hair fell flat against the flickering light of the many candles.

“It took me a while, but I tracked her down.” Aunt Alice shot her niece another disapproving glance.

“Isabelle, there you are.” Isabelle’s older brother came ambling towards them. 

Richard’s brown eyes closely resembled Isabelle’s. His short brown hair had been combed to the side in a neat wave that matched the ruffles at the ends of his sleeves. The scars on his face were barely hidden by the powder covering his skin. Telltale signs of a childhood illness that could have taken his life. 

Lifting her chin and looking down her sharp nose, Caroline addressed Isabelle as if talking to a petulant child. “Now that we have finally tracked you down, you will be pleased to know that Lord James has requested to accompany you during the final dance.” Her voice was high and annoying.

“Must I? I have already danced with every eligible gentleman at this ball. If I haven’t found an agreeable suitor by now, I hardly doubt that Lord James will sway my opinion.” Isabelle shuddered a little at the mention of his name as she felt the pit of her stomach clenching.

“Don’t exaggerate so, Isabelle. You hardly danced with all the eligible men this evening. Besides, they would not seem so numerous if you actually made conversation instead of allowing your partners to drag you over the floor.” Aunt Alice fanned her face more forcefully as the touch of rouge on her cheeks and lips began to smudge beneath the thick layer of powder. 

“It certainly felt like it was all the men,” Isabelle turned her head to the side and muttered under her breath. Why couldn’t they all just leave her alone? 

Chiming in once again, Caroline admonished her a little more sternly. “Perhaps you should take our advice then.” 

The endless pestering grew tiresome for Isabelle as her shoulders rose and fell beneath the effort of her sigh. Caroline hadn’t even married her brother yet, and it was already evident that she wished to marry Isabelle off to the highest bidder. 

“You will want to check your countenance, Isabelle. The options for suitors will be few and far between once this ball is over. Winter is about to reach her icy grip into London and leech the city of all suitable men.” Caroline raised her thin blonde eyebrows in a warning. 

“I will be thankful for the opportunity to read in silence once they leave.” Isabelle forced a smile and met her future sister-in-law’s gaze, unwilling to back down. 

“You are almost twenty-four, Isabelle. Spinsterhood is knocking on your door faster than I think even you will care to admit.” Seething a little with rage, Caroline glared at her. 

Isabelle was about to reply when her aunt cut her short, forcing her to swallow her words. 

“Here comes Lord James now. Stand up straight, and I will thank you not to make any of your witty remarks. Gentlemen do not like young women with smart mouths,” Aunt Alice snapped sharply, slapping her fan shut in the palm of her hand. 

“Evidently, they prefer dolls rather than actual women,” Isabelle whispered to herself before looking up to see the man in question striding towards her. 

Lord James Church, the second son of a marquess, met her eyes from across the room and smoothed his ashen blond hair over his head. His smirk, along with the arrogance in his stride, made her stomach churn uncomfortably with repulsion. His cunning blue eyes locked on her as if he were a bird of prey. 

I guess that would make me the mouse.

She braced herself for the nauseating onslaught of charm about to be thrust into her unwilling arms. ‘Charm’ which, unfortunately, in the case of Lord James, meant endless talk of all his business ventures and wealth. 

“Miss Sutton.” Lord James came to a halt in front of her and bowed, raising his head once again with an oily smirk. 

“My Lord.” Isabelle hesitantly curtsied while forcing a smile. 

“You seemed quite preoccupied this evening.” His tone was almost accusatory as his gaze moved over her wrinkled dress in judgement. 

“I can assure you that I would have preferred to stay at home reading, Lord James. Dancing would have no place in a civilized Society if it were up to me,” Isabelle responded with a tired sigh. 

Noticing the glares that her aunt and Caroline were shooting in her direction, she composed herself before being cut short by her aunt. “You must forgive our Isabelle, My Lord. You know how overwhelming these balls can be for a young lady; she couldn’t very well turn the young men down, even if she wanted to,” Aunt Alice answered for her with a forced laugh.

Knitting her brow into a frown, Isabelle hoped Lord James would pick up on her demeanour and leave. Any fool with two eyes could see she didn’t relish the man’s presence. 

“I understand, Lady Sinclair. Luckily, I am here now to save her from the hordes,” Lord James addressed her aunt while keeping his eyes fixed on her. 

Isabelle could feel the corner of her mouth twitching as she struggled to hold her smile in place. 

“It would be a great honour if you would allow me to accompany you during the final dance, Miss Sutton.” She grimaced at the charm dripping from his voice. 

It wasn’t the first time Lord James had singled her out at a ball and asked for a dance. On the contrary, he had been pestering her all season, and Isabelle wished he’d get the hint.

“I think …” She had barely opened her mouth to reply when Caroline cut her off. 

“She would be delighted to dance with you, Lord James. She has spoken of nothing but your presence all evening. I’m afraid that it may be the cause of contention for many of the other young men. Isn’t that right, Isabelle?” She placed her hand on Richard’s arm and turned to Isabelle with her eyebrows raised. 

Richard, oblivious to her plight, simply smiled down at Caroline, leaving Isabelle with no choice but to accept. 

“Certainly, My Lord.” The pit of her stomach churned once again when he took the card from her hand and filled in his name at the bottom. Even the flair of his handwriting made her grit his teeth. 

“I hope that it will be the highlight of your evening.” He made sure to brush his fingers against her gloved hand as he handed the card back. 

Wanting to run, Isabelle accepted the card and wracked her brain for a way to escape. She could say she felt ill or even faint due to the sweltering heat. Yet she couldn’t help feeling that any such course of action would fuel Lord James’s delusions that she was a complaisant and willing participant. Knowing him, he would chalk her fainting up to swooning in his presence. 

I need to escape. 

The pressing need to be saved made her heart beat faster when Caroline added to the conversation. 

“It will be delightful to see the two of you dancing again. It was such a treat at the last ball. Don’t you think they make a handsome couple?” Caroline looked around their tiny circle for support. 

It’s too hot. 

Isabelle unfolded her fan and began to wave it in her face as she placed a hand on her hip and shut her eyes. 

“A most charming couple indeed,” Aunt Alice added, her voice swimming with awe and romance that didn’t translate to Isabelle. 

Opening her eyes, Isabelle felt her chest beginning to constrict beneath her tight corset. 

Lord James held her gaze and smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting into a near sneer as Richard echoed his approval. 

“I know I certainly will not object to the match.” Her brother sealed her fate with one simple sentence. 

I will not object. 

The words echoed in the back of her mind like the dull thud of a hammer in the distance. The air in the room suddenly seemed far too stifling as she fanned her face even faster. The light fluttering of fans beneath the chatter of the rest of the guests suddenly seemed as if a swarm of butterflies were about to take flight. 

Flight. 

She began to panic as her chest rapidly rose and fell with every laboured breath. 

Laughing heartily as if he had heard a joke, Lord James winked at her before turning back to her brother. “Careful, Lord Sutton, anyone listening may assume we are already engaged.” He raised his voice for everyone to hear. 

A low susurration erupted among the nearby guests as Isabelle began to fan her face so vigorously that strands of loose hair flew past her ears. 

“Heavens, that would be something.” Aunt Alice practically swooned as she looked past their heads with a dreamy gaze. 

Caroline beamed as she lifted her chin triumphantly in the air. 

Lord James’s heart-shaped face and pointed chin swam in her vision until she felt as if she would faint. 

This is going to be the rest of my life …

Her eyes darted around the room at the many faces who seemed to be watching her every move. The pressure was almost unbearable when she looked back to James, who held out his hand with a smirk. 

“Of course, we would need to keep a tight lid on your biting replies, Miss Sutton, but marriage will fix all of that in due time.” 

The quartet began to play a song as if on cue as her thoughts reached their crescendo. If she married Lord James, she’d have to spend the rest of her life suppressing her character and acting like a simpering and obedient wife. 

The rest of my life!

“Shall we give the masses what they want, Miss Sutton?” Lord James raised an eyebrow in question.

“No.” Isabelle finally snapped and shut her fan, eliciting a wave of gasps. 

“I beg your pardon?” Aunt Alice asked indignantly, looking Isabelle up and down as if she had gone mad. 

“I will not dance with Lord James, nor will I become his simpering wife!” She tore her dance card in half and let it fall to the floor at his feet. 

Looking up in shock, his blue eyes suddenly seemed darker as his countenance changed. 

“Isabelle, what are you doing?” Richard leaned closer and whispered to her when everyone continued to stare. 

“Taking control of my life.” She held her head high and lifted the hem of her dress before turning from the group and running straight towards the open doors. 

The gasps of shock filled the air with a hum of activity. 

I will not be a simpering, obedient wife!

The cool evening air kissed her skin as she ran past the waiting carriages and down the street. 

 

Chapter Two

The low crackle of the fire did little to ease his irritation as Lord Henry Montague attempted to pay attention to his book. 

“You have to get out there, Lord Ashford. It pains me deeply to see an eligible and wealthy man such as yourself secluded and alone.” Alfred Hampton shook his head in disapproval and sighed. His short-cropped brown hair had been combed back, although a few stubborn strands fell over his forehead. 

Realizing that he would not be getting much reading done, Lord Ashford shut his book and looked up. His dark brown eyes, which boasted flecks of gold, glinted in the fading light of the fire despite his irritation. 

The rest of the men in the club’s billiard room seemed far too taken with their conversations to pay attention. The low murmur of voices, along with the clinking of glasses, had always provided a safe space for Henry to read. That was until Alfred Hampton had come into his life. The man seemed hell-bent on saving Henry, even if he didn’t want to be saved. 

“All I am saying is that a man of your title and wealth should not resign himself to a life of reading. There is still much that you have to experience.” The man waved the idea away with a flick of his hand in the air. His thin lips pursed into a fine line of disapproval, adding to the pinched look of his thin face. 

“What if I prefer the solace of books?” Henry asked with a sigh before running his fingers through his thick mop of hair. The brown had begun to turn grey in his early twenties, and by the age of forty-one, he now had more streaks of grey than brown. He’d long since given up on attempting to tame the wild spurts of growth. 

Alfred scoffed before sipping his whisky. “No man wants to spend the rest of his life alone. I simply won’t hear any of your excuses for solace and reading. We will find you a wife before the season is out.” 

“That would be quite a feat, considering the last ball of the season is being held at this very moment.” Henry raised his eyebrow quizzically, somewhat amused by the man’s plight to find him a wife. 

“Oh,” Alfred seemed to realize his blunder as he lowered his empty glass. “Well, then, we shall find you a wife by the end of winter. I have failed you thus far, but I shall prevail.” 

Feeling his irritation rising, Henry shook his head. “Has it ever occurred to you that I actually enjoy my solitude? I am a widower, Lord Hampton. My time as a husband has come and gone; I now wish to spend the rest of my years in peace.” 

“Stuff and nonsense.” Lord Hampton made a sound of disgust at the back of his throat before continuing, “I do not believe you. Being a widower myself, I understand how lonely one can get. Nobody wishes to spend the rest of their life alone. Why do you think I have been dragging you along all these evenings since I met you all those months ago? We men have to be adventurous in our search for wives.” He spoke determinedly with the air of one who knew that what they were saying was true. 

Placing his hands on the armrests of his chair, Henry pushed himself up and stood. “If it is your wish to marry again, then may I suggest that you set your mind to it and leave me be. I will bid you a good evening, Lord Hampton; may you be successful in your endeavours.” Henry bowed respectfully and hurried away before the man could protest again. 

“I will see you again tomorrow evening, Lord Ashford, do not think that I have given up on you,” Alfred called to him despite the cool tone and finality that Henry had used. 

Feeling the kiss of the cool evening air, Henry breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped onto the street. It wasn’t that he disliked the man; on the contrary, he thought of Lord Alfred Hampton as a well-intentioned man. He simply just never wanted to get married again. His marriage, while not unpleasant at the best of times, had left him feeling content on his own. 

Turning his head with his book held tightly by his side, Henry took note of a few stragglers from the club, along with a few people returning from a hard day’s work. The dimly lit street wasn’t busy, yet it didn’t exactly provide anyone with the feeling of safety. He was about to search for his carriage when the sound of hurried heals clinking on the pavement drew his attention. 

A swish of light green fabric appeared out of the corner of his eye. 

What the devil? 

His brow quickly knit into a frown as he spotted the thin young lady hurrying around the corner of a nearby alley. Her appearance was just as puzzling as it was startling when he noted the almost severe thinness of her frame. She was dressed like a young lady of the ton, yet her protruding wrist bones, thin arms, and slender neck spoke of poverty. 

“Miss, can I help you?” he spoke up when she glanced down the alley for a moment before hurrying in his direction instead. 

Gasping with fright, she looked up just in time to stop herself from bumping into him. Her large brown eyes widened in shock when the hem of her dress snagged on the edge of a jagged crack in the pavement, causing her to fumble and step back. 

The scene seemed to play out in slow motion as Henry acted quickly, reaching out as he placed his arm around her waist and gripped her wrist. 

The sunken look of her hollow cheeks accentuated the shock in her eyes as her full lips formed a perfect, yet silent, ‘oh’. Her porcelain skin seemed perfect and free of blemishes despite the lack of colour, adding to his confusion.  

She’s beautiful. 

The thought caught him off guard as he recalled how long it had been since he’d taken notice of any young woman. Heat crept up the back of his neck when he realized how closely he was staring at her. Her light brown hair shone beneath the almost ethereal sheen from the lamp above their heads. 

A sharp pain made him wince as heat shot up his right thigh and travelled down his calf, enflaming his old wound. 

“Unhand me!” The maiden began to struggle when he winced, pushing his hand from her wrist as she attempted to come up straight. 

Pulling her up as if she weighed nothing at all, Henry let out a breath and admonished himself for acting like a young fool. He swore under his breath before letting her go. 

The fury in her beautiful eyes ignited his curiosity as she whipped around and began to walk back up the street. 

“Miss! Would you wait for just a moment!” he called out to her after spotting a rowdy group of young men from across the street. Under any normal circumstances, he would have let her go, yet the dangers of London life at night would not allow him to leave her unaccompanied. 

The girl never so much as looked back as she lifted the hem of her light green dress and hastened her pace. The heels of her shoes clicked furiously against the hard pavement as she went. 

“Miss, if you would just allow me to walk you home. I can assure you that I mean well.” He caught up to her despite the pain in his thigh that aggravated his limp. 

Whipping around once again, she glared at him furiously. “I can assure you that I do not need assistance, My Lord. It is entirely impertinent of you to assume the role of walking me home.” Her eyes wandered over his fine clothes before addressing him. 

A moment of confusion passed over his mind as Henry wondered if he had seen resentment in her gaze. “I beg your pardon, Miss, but I was not being presumptuous. I merely meant to convey my concern for a young lady walking alone at night. The streets of London are no place for a fine young lady.” His gaze once again swept over the fashionable dress that seemed to stand in stark contrast to her almost starved appearance. 

He wondered briefly if she hadn’t been trying to impersonate a wealthy young lady. It would certainly explain why she had been trying so hard to get away. 

“I can assure you that I will be just fine, My Lord. Thank you for your concern.” She hurriedly curtsied and returned to her brisk pace. 

She is far too fine not to be a lady. 

The elegance in her mannerisms made him realize that she couldn’t have just been impersonating a well-born woman. 

Hurrying once again to catch up, he fell into step by her side. “Miss, I must insist upon accompanying you home. If you wish, we may take my carriage; it is just up the street in the opposite direction.” He nodded back to where they had come from. 

Stopping in her tracks, the young woman glared daggers at him. “What do I need to do to get the message across to you men? Is it so absurd that any woman would simply wish to be alone? Has the notion of anyone wanting solitude never crossed men’s minds?!” Her cheeks filled with colour as she clenched her fists at her sides and raised her voice. 

“Us men?” Henry asked in confusion, looking around to see if anyone else had been following her. Her rage towards him seemed entirely disproportionate to the situation at hand, at least in his opinion. 

A look of realization came over her face as she opened and shut her mouth. “Never mind, I apologize for my behaviour, My Lord, but I must insist that you leave me to my own devices. Good evening.” She curtsied once more and turned to leave just as a carriage appeared at the far end of the street, rattling uncontrollably as it sped over the uneven street. 

“Oh no,” she gasped and turned back to him, her face paling with fright. 

“What is the matter? Is somebody following you?” He suddenly took up a protective stance and came to her aid, shielding her body from view as the carriage drew closer. 

“It’s … It’s just my family. I do not wish them to find me. I am begging of you, My Lord, please allow me to hide. You never have to see me again after this evening; just allow me this one courtesy this once.” Her eyes were almost frantic as she glanced at the dark alley to her side. 

She’s running away from home.

Realization dawned on him as he looked back at the carriage. “Are you in need of any kind of assistance, Miss? Has your family mistreated you or harmed you in any way?” Her malnourished appearance added to his suspicions. 

She looked confused for a moment before answering. “Well, no, I simply do not wish them to drag me back to the ball.” 

Ah, there it is. 

The young woman wasn’t an ill-treated runaway or even a damsel in distress; she simply didn’t wish to return to her family and the ball. 

Turning back to her with a sympathetic gaze, he pursed his lips. “I can sympathize with not wanting to attend a ball. I myself detest them at the best of times, but I simply cannot allow you to walk the streets alone.” Honour took over as he anticipated her movements and stepped in her path before she could enter the alley. 

Her mouth fell open again for a split second before she glared at him. The fire in her eyes would have been intimidating if he hadn’t just discovered that she was running away from a ball. 

The carriage came to a screeching halt beside them as the horses neighed uncomfortably. The sudden tug on their reins creating discomfort. 

“Isabelle Sutton, how dare you run away from us like that!” An older woman with wild eyes and wrinkled skin poked her head from the carriage, practically foaming from the mouth as she yelled. 

Looking back to the young lady he now knew as Isabelle Sutton, he noted the lack of fear in her eyes, reaffirming that she wasn’t in danger. 

The door on the other side of the carriage opened and shut before a young man, who looked to be in his late twenties, appeared from around the back of the carriage. 

“Isabelle, I can understand that you were overwhelmed, but that was entirely irresponsible of you.” He breathed a sigh of relief after looking her over. 

The stark family resemblance set Henry at ease as he stepped back and handed the situation to the young man. 

Fuming with anger after glaring at him, Isabelle gave him a final stare before lifting the hem of her dress and entering the carriage. 

The young man turned to him with an apologetic smile. “I hope my sister hasn’t caused you too much trouble, Mr …” His words trailed off as he waited for Henry to fill in the rest. 

“Lord Henry Montague, Earl of Ashford,” Henry politely informed the man before placing his hands behind his back along with the book. How he had managed to keep it in his hands was a mystery to Henry, but he chalked it up to years of combat training in the war. 

“Ah, well, you have our thanks, Lord Ashford. I must now excuse myself as we need to get my sister home.” The young man bowed respectfully before hurrying back into his carriage. 

The horses broke into a fast trot almost as soon as the carriage door shut. 

Angry voices could be heard from inside the carriage as it passed, yet the young woman continued to glare at him through the pane of glass. 

The angry look in her eyes as she passed made him chuckle to himself as he watched the carriage disappear down the street. The things that he saw in London never failed to amuse him. He was glad that his days of balls and frivolity had come to an end, although he did pity the young woman who seemed to want out. 

“I’m just glad that it isn’t me,” he whispered before making his way back up the street. 

The young girl had been quite beautiful and fiery, yet he was glad he never had to deal with such theatrics ever again. His days of having to bow to the norms and social expectations of the ton were far behind him. He would never see the young lady again and wished her well, or so he thought …