Discovering Her Earl (Scots and Scoundrels Book 2)

Chapter One

London, May 1812

Clenching his fingers in his hair, Julian Huntly, Earl of Melville, paced the length of his solicitor’s office for the sixth time.

“How is this possible? The bloody arse has been gone five years. How can he still be making demands of me from beyond the grave?”

The thin man who’d been hired by Julian’s father years ago was wise to look worried. He was no doubt familiar with the saying about what came of messengers. And since the late earl wasn’t alive, Mr. Reeves was the only person left to bear Julian’s anger with his meddling sire.

“The late earl was very clear in his wishes, my lord. This document was not to be opened until the year before your thirtieth birthday. You see the date it was to be opened—”

“Aye, I see the bloody date!” Julian pressed his hand to his temple and made another lap in the small, cluttered office filled with the scents of paper and dust. Anger caused his brogue to worsen, not helping with Mr. Reeves’ nervous condition.

Julian had been free of his father’s demands since he’d been four and twenty, yet he could still hear the man’s voice in his head. The constant judgement and disappointment.

Julian’s mother had died when he was eight. Afterward, his father took his only son’s upbringing upon himself. Unfortunately, Julian was never smart enough, strong enough, fast enough, or brave enough to win even the smallest amount of praise from his disapproving father.

At some point in his youth, Julian had simply given up trying to impress the man, and instead grasped onto something he felt he was good at.

Assuring that anyone not related to him, liked him.

When he made someone laugh, he felt as if he were twenty feet tall, instead of the six feet four inches he truly was. He relied on his charm to earn him acceptance, and it felt good. As if he’d been walking the desert his entire life and someone had offered him a glass of water.

He’d attended George Heriot’s School in Edinburgh and made friends he still had to this day. When they’d reached adulthood, the three of them descended on London. Three large Scots that had planned to own the Town. And now this.

Poor Mr. Reeves cleared his throat.

“You’ll have the rest of this Season and most of next to find a bride in time to marry before your birthday next year at the end of May,” the solicitor pointed out.

“Except I don’t wish to marry.”

But even as he said it, he knew his statement wasn’t exactly true.

Julian wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. His good friend Hale had married last year and seemed quite content with his choice. But Julian didn’t want to marry because he felt yet again that his father was trying to control him.

His sire had forced his will on Julian for as long as he could remember and by God, Julian wouldn’t allow it now that the man was dead.

“There must be another way. This document would have been drawn up in Scotland, have ye reviewed Scottish laws?”

“I’m sorry, my lord.” The man shook his head. “Regardless of it being signed in Scotland, it clearly states that if you are not married to a proper lady by the eve of your thirtieth birthday all unentailed properties will be handed over to Lord Osborne.”

“Lord Osborne? That makes no bloody sense. My father didn’t even get on with Lord Osborne.”

“Perhaps he thought it an effective motivator.”

Julian didn’t have an issue with Lord Osborne one way or the other, but he couldn’t allow the man to take his unentailed properties. Specifically, the two lucrative mines passed on to Julian through his mother.

The revenue from the mines was his main source of income. His estates in Scotland and England were managed well, but he invested the monies from them back into the properties, equipment, and upkeep on his tenants’ homes. Julian couldn’t stand to take from his tenants to cover other expenses. Including his own lifestyle.

He didn’t play deep in the pockets at the tables or wager too much at the tracks. He didn’t even overindulge on clothing or mistresses.

Still, the mines gave him freedom. But that wasn’t the only reason he couldn’t afford to lose them.

When he’d first visited the mines, a few months after his father’s death, he’d been appalled by the state they were in.

Men and young boys—children too young to manage the duties they’d been forced into—working in unsafe conditions for little pay. Their shabby homes were falling down around their ears and they seldom had a decent meal.

It had made Julian sick to know he’d lived in luxury while those people had suffered so.

He’d made immediate changes. Including removing the children from the mines and setting up a school. He’d invested in safety measures, repaired their homes, and raised the workers’ salaries which in turn made the mines more profitable than they’d ever been before. Healthy workers were more productive workers.

And now, they could end up with Lord Osborne who ran his mines in the same fashion Julian’s father had. He couldn’t allow the miners and their families to go back to that life.

“You could pull more income from the other estates to cover your expenses,” Mr. Reeves offered as if he had no issue with taking money from the people who had rightfully earned it.

But thinking of his estates did give him an idea.

“Haverdale and Wellfrey. They aren’t entailed. I could sell them and—”

The solicitor was shaking his head before the sentence was out.

“No. You cannot sell them. You never could.”

“Bloody bastard.” It seemed his father had thought of everything. Of course, the bugger had seen fit to force his will on Julian yet again. Years after Julian had been free of the wretched man.

“It isn’t unheard of for a father to want his son to ensure the line by your age.”

Julian answered that comment with a hard glare, and a Scottish curse that had sturdier men shaking in their boots. Julian turned back to read over the letter again. He pointed at a section near the end.

“What does this mean here?” He tapped the parchment. “Someone must approve my wife? Who?”

“I don’t know. That is only to be disclosed after you choose a lady to wed.”

“Then it’s possible I could go along with this insanity and marry someone I think is proper enough for the blighter, only to have some unnamed person come along and deem her unfit? I could still lose my mines even if I did his bidding?”

“Yes, I suppose that is possible. But I imagine your father prepared this person to approve a wife who would make a suitable countess. Otherwise, I would think he would have stipulated his specific requirements in the document. He was quite thorough on everything else.”

Julian pointed at the stacks of books on every flat surface of the room.

“You dig through every one of these bloody books and confer with my solicitor in Scotland. You find a way to get me out of this. There has to be a law against such things. And if you can’t find something, get a second opinion, and a third, and a six hundred and forty-seventh opinion, until someone figures out how to save my mines.”

“You have the ability—”

“Do not tell me I can save the mines myself. I will not be forced into marriage by a man who imposed his will on me every second of my youth. I was free of him when he died. He will not manage me from where he rots in the ground. Find another way.”

With that, Julian left.

When he’d walked to his solicitor’s office earlier, he’d been wearing a smile on his face despite the gray clouds above. Now, he didn’t think he could remember how to smile as he stormed home in the frigid downpour. It had been unseasonably cold so far this spring, and this day was another unpleasant day for late May.

Maybe he would catch a chill and it would end the whole matter as it had for his mother. Julian’s death would certainly thwart his father’s ridiculous plans. Though Julian wasn’t close to giving up yet.

As he walked, he thought of the ways he could economize his lifestyle if it came to that. He didn’t need to have quite so many books. His yearly donation to the Darlington Expedition would have to go, though he did love seeing the Egyptian artifacts that were exhumed with the aid of his contributions.

Julian rarely entertained, so he could surely get rid of the silver and elaborate place settings in the formal dining room.

He was considering other things he might be able to do away with rather than kneel to his father’s wishes as he entered Melville House.

Spencer, the butler, fretted as Julian dripped through the foyer.

“Should I have a bath drawn, my lord?”

So much for Julian’s plans to catch a deathly chill. No, he wouldn’t let his father win at this. His reign had ended when he’d died. Julian had been free of his oppressive rule for the last five years, he’d find a way. He had to.

Besides, on the off chance he ended up in the same place as his father in the afterlife, Julian was in no hurry to see the bastard anytime soon. A bath, and dry clothes were a brilliant idea.

“Thank you, Spence. I would appreciate it.”

While that was being seen to, Julian went to his study to pour a whisky. It may not be noon yet, but it was well-earned.

Wanting something else to do to keep his mind off of his dilemma, he decided to go through the mail that had arrived while he was out.

He flipped through the pile of invitations and pulled out a letter from his dear friend Hale who had moved home to Scotland with his wife. While neither Kit nor Graham, his other friends, had any immediate plans to marry, Julian didn’t want to end up becoming the sole bachelor of the group. Another reason why finding someone to marry was not so disagreeable. That was until his father had demanded it.

And he was back to thinking about his plight.

Setting the letter aside, he continued through the stack until he found one that stood out from the others because of the hieroglyphics drawn on the side of the envelope.

He knew what it was before opening it since he had gotten an invitation like this each year at this time.

The Darlington Expedition Ball.

Lord Darlington invited contributors to his home every June near the end of the Season. He solicited funds to cover his expenses and the benefactors were ensured their names would be assigned to the artifacts collected when they were displayed in the British Museum.

Julian didn’t care so much about the recognition as he did the excitement of being the first to see what was found during the exploration of the tombs. He and the other contributors were able to view the artifacts before they were put on display. Julian had always been interested in adventure and discovery in other lands even if he’d only had the opportunity to visit the continent briefly.

His father had forced Julian to read books about agriculture and business, which had certainly come in handy. But when he was permitted to read for pleasure, he always chose books about adventure. Something his father deemed a waste of good paper.

“My lord, your bath is ready.”

“Thank you, Spence.”

Julian went up to his rooms to meet his valet. Bentley frowned as he peeled the wet garments from Julian’s body.

“Sorry, old chap. I should have called for a hack, but I needed to walk to expel some pent-up energy.” The older man had always been kind to Julian, even when he’d been his father’s valet when Julian had been a boy.

“It’s of no matter, my lord. I will have them replaced.”

“Replaced?” Julian asked. Surely, that wouldn’t come cheap.

“There is no saving this jacket,” Ben assured him.

“Very well.” Julian let his head fall back in the tub as the man left him alone to wash. And think.

No matter what expenses Julian managed to cut, he worried it wouldn’t be enough. And it wouldn’t help the men who worked in his mines and their families if Julian ran out of blunt. What would become of them?

And what would happen when he did decide to marry and have children? How would he provide for the family he was avoiding now, after he’d allowed the unentailed properties go?

And if he was planning to have a family anyway, why not just do it now?

Simply because he wanted to defy his father, who wasn’t even here to know? He would be punishing himself, his future family, and the people who depended on him with his stubbornness.

By the time he had dressed and returned to the study, it was clear he had no other option than to go along with this ridiculous scheme.

It shouldn’t be that difficult for him to find a proper bride. Not that he thought of himself as some great catch, but he had a title. A rather impressive one at that. There would be some women who refused to wed a large Scot, but his title would be enough to make many of the mamas gather their daughters to jump at the chance to be countess. And he’d have his choice of the lot.

He picked up the invitation to the Darlington Ball and smiled as an idea grew into a plan.

If he was going to marry, he was damn well going to make sure he had a bit of fun before conceding. He wouldn’t miss this last chance at adventure.