Page 1 of Real Earls Break the Rules

Chapter One

June 1815

Hampshire

Sin ran in Amelia Somerton’s family. No matter how she tried to suppress it with a strong will or disguise it with a costly dress of the finest muslin, it was there, just beneath the surface.

At least, she’d inherited the tainted blood. Her father was the infamous forger of the ton, and of the three sisters, she was the only one who could forge priceless works of art.

To her credit, only one forgery had been sold.

Amelia took a sip of lemonade and leaned against the large oak tree in the magnificent Huntingdon country estate. The lemonade was just right—sweet with a touch of tart.

A tinkle of laughter drew her attention to the far side of the well-tended lawn. Her older sister, Eliza, smiled up at her husband, the Earl of Huntingdon. A healthy blush on her cheeks, the happiness in her eyes made Amelia’s breath catch. Never in their wildest dreams would they have thought her sister would become the wife of an earl, a countess.

Huntingdon’s mansion loomed before her. Within the white stone walls, luxury surrounded them. Magnificent crystal chandeliers held dozens of candles, white and black marble floors graced the vestibule, and room after room was decorated with Chippendale furniture, expensive silks, and Oriental rugs.

Amelia shivered despite the unusually warm spring day. She’d never forget the hunger, the fear, the desperation of poverty.

Never again.

“There you are!” A voice sounded beside her. Amelia turned to see her youngest sister, Chloe, approach in a flurry of skirts, her blond curls bouncing. “We’re going to play lawn bowls. Lady Sara is joining us as well.” Chloe gestured to a young lady traveling across the expansive lawn. Sara was Huntingdon’s younger sister and a friend.

“It will be an uneven number.” A liveried footman approached, and Amelia placed her empty lemonade glass on an outstretched tray. “I’m happy to watch and keep score.”

Chloe’s eyes widened as she stared past Amelia’s shoulder. “There’s no need. We have an unexpected visitor.”

Amelia turned to glance in the direction of Chloe’s gaze.

A tall, dark-haired gentleman strolled through the garden gate and called out cheerfully to Huntingdon. Amelia immediately recognized him. Brandon St. Clair, the Earl of Vale. She’d met him once, just over a year ago when he’d entered their print shop with Huntingdon. Her heart began to pound.

He was just as she remembered, a strikingly handsome man who’d captured her attention on their first encounter. His eyes were a remarkable green that reminded her of the ferns that grew in abundance during the summer months. His hair was the color of the rich chocolate that she enjoyed drinking each morning. He wore it slightly longer than fashionable and it brushed his collar. The rich outline of his shoulders straining against his tailored jacket and his athletic physique spoke of a sinewy strength that made a lady sigh when he entered a room. He was tall, nearly as tall as Huntingdon, and Amelia had just reached his shoulder when she’d met him.

She watched the two men—both earls—clap each other’s back like longtime friends.

“Isn’t that Lord Vale?” Chloe asked, never taking her eyes from the man. “We’re to attend his house party in a few days’ time to celebrate his sister’s betrothal to a marquess.”

Amelia was more than a bit nervous about the upcoming house party. They’d be rubbing elbows with the aristocracy for an entire fortnight. She wasn’t used to all the rigid social rules and etiquette. She feared making a simple mistake—using the wrong fork during one of the multi-course meals, forgetting to curtsy, or stumbling over proper forms of address such as “my lord” or “your grace.”

She continued to watch Vale. He walked with confidence, a man who knew his place in the world. He seemed older since she’d last seen him—a silly notion since it had only been a year. But there was a firmer strength about him, an air of command that proclaimed he was a titled, powerful gentleman of the realm.

Chloe sighed. “He’s very handsome.”

Amelia’s brow furrowed. “Is that all you think about? Men?” She should be used to Chloe’s fascination with a handsome face. Eliza had once said that Chloe was searching for a father figure ever since their own had abandoned them rather than face arrest for fleecing half of the ton with his art forgeries. But for some reason Chloe’s comment about Vale irked Amelia.

Chloe’s eyes flashed. “Not all men. Only the titled ones. Don’t you feel the same?”

“Unlike you, I don’t want a lord,” she snapped.

It was true. Chloe may want to marry, but Amelia had no interest. Art was her passion. No husband would ever allow her the freedom to paint the subjects she wanted under her true name instead of the false male names she had used to sell her work. It would be too scandalous.

“I know you care naught for eligible, titled gentlemen or rich bachelors, but what of him? You are staring.”

“You’re wrong. Lord Vale doesn’t interest me at all,” Amelia said.

“Hmm,” Chloe said in that annoying sisterly tone that meant she didn’t believe a word.

Amelia dared another glimpse at Lord Vale beneath lowered lashes. She drew a swift breath.