Page 7 of Real Earls Break the Rules

“Helen is to marry in a month. Caroline will attend her first Season. I don’t want to burden them with thoughts of crumbling businesses or boring ledgers, and I don’t want to jeopardize the wedding by making the debts known. Would you tell Sara?” Brandon asked.

Huntingdon had the good sense to cringe at the mention of his younger sister. “I wouldn’t want to worry her.”

“I’m no different.”

Huntingdon’s brows drew together. “Most of my money is in the earldom’s landholdings, but I can sell a property if you need to borrow—”

“No,” Brandon said. “I’ll fix this mess on my own.” He had his pride, dammit, and he wouldn’t go begging to his friends for money or put them through unnecessary hardship.

“Then why offer to pay Amelia for your portrait?”

Once again, he felt guilty for not revealing his plans. If he convinced Amelia to agree, then he could decide whether to tell his friend in confidence. Brandon cleared his throat. “We discussed a nominal amount, and I’m not entirely without money. The dowager insists I have a portrait to hang in Rosehill’s gallery to add to the long line of Vales bearing the title.”

Huntingdon downed the contents of his glass in one swallow. “Leave her be, Brandon. Your rakish reputation is well known, and I’m responsible for my wife’s sisters now. Eliza is on a crusade to see them make good marriage matches. So forget Amelia. Forget the portrait. Find someone else to paint you. Unless you propose to marry her,” Huntingdon said.

Brandon stayed silent. Huntingdon knew he wasn’t in a position to make an offer for Amelia. His father had sealed his fate by gambling and investing in one bad business after another. He would marry, but it would be to a woman with a large dowry, not a former art forger. No matter how much he desired her.

…

The Huntingdon household was filled with excitement the morning of their trip to Lord Vale’s house party. Amelia and Chloe rushed about with their maid as they checked that every necessity had been packed. Gowns, petticoats, undergarments, and pelisses had been stowed in portmanteaus and trunks, while matching shoes, fans, jewelry, hair combs and bandeaus, parasols, and feminine enhancements were checked and double-checked. Amelia had a trunk dedicated solely to her art supplies. She may not be painting the portrait of an attractive earl, but she planned on sketching the rolling hills and breathtaking scenery that surrounded the Vale estate.

As Amelia descended the grand staircase, she was stunned at the amount of baggage that had been piled up in the vestibule. Eliza, with the aid of Huntingdon’s butler, oversaw the baggage as it was loaded onto the carriages by footmen.

Amelia had imagined the carriage ride to Rosehill would be brief since they only had to travel from one country estate to another. She was soon amazed by the amount of property comprising both estates. She gazed out the carriage window as they traveled mile after mile.

The carriage turned onto a long, winding stone drive lined with tall oak trees. They passed well-tended hedgerows, beds of begonias between scrolls of English boxwood, and acres of lawn in the formal gardens. An ivy-lined path led to twin marble gazebos that glittered beneath the morning sunlight. Farther along the path, roses of every color bloomed and filled the air with their heady fragrance. At once she knew where Rosehill got its name. She could picture a lady lounging in one of the gazebos enjoying the scent and beauty of the delicate blooms.

She strained to see up ahead, when suddenly a sprawling mansion came into view. She gasped at her first sight of the manor’s size and beauty. Lord Vale’s home looked like a picture from a fairy tale with gleaming, white stone walls and four towering Corinthian columns. A fountain in the courtyard surrounded by marble statues of Roman gods and goddesses welcomed visitors.

The carriage rolled to a stop in the circular drive. A footman lowered the step and the ladies descended from the carriage and walked up the mansion’s stone steps. The vestibule was elegant, with marble floors and pillars and a crystal chandelier holding hundreds of candles. A Chinoiserie vase sat on an end table in the center of the vestibule.

An elderly lady with gray hair pulled into a tight knot at her nape came forth to greet them, and Amelia suspected she was the dowager and the earl’s grandmother. Two young ladies walked beside her.

“Welcome to Rosehill. We’ve been looking forward to meeting our newest neighbors. I’m Lady Vale and these are my granddaughters, Lady Helen and Lady Caroline.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Eliza said. “May I introduce my sisters, Miss Amelia and Miss Chloe, and this is Lady Sara, Lord Huntingdon’s sister.”

“It is a pleasure to meet all of you. Lord Vale is away attending to some matters, but he is expected to return shortly.” The dowager motioned for her two granddaughters. “Helen will show Lady Sara to her room, and Caroline will escort both of you,” she said, gesturing to Amelia and Chloe.

As soon as the dowager disappeared down the hall with the rest of the party, Lady Caroline smiled at Amelia and Chloe. “Follow me,” she said and led them up the grand staircase to the second floor.

Caroline was pretty with dark hair and delicate features. She looked like her brother, but where Lord Vale had green eyes, his sister’s were dark brown.

“I’m excited to finally meet you both. Is it true you owned a shop near Bond Street?” Caroline asked.

Amelia exchanged a concerned look with Chloe. The beau monde looked down on anyone that worked for a living, let alone women who owned their own establishments. Was Lady Caroline one of these people?

Amelia didn’t spot a gleam of mockery in the young woman’s wide eyes, only curiosity. “Yes, it’s true.”

Caroline’s dark eyes sparkled with excitement. “Fascinating. I’ve always believed women have what it takes to earn their own money.”

Surprise coursed through Amelia. “Truly?”

Caroline paused at the top of the landing and sighed wistfully. “I’m grateful to be born into my family, but I would love to have my own business. Scandalous, I know. Women in my family don’t work. But I believe there is nothing more admirable than working toward your own financial support. Don’t you agree?”

She did. But she wasn’t comfortable voicing her opinions with a woman she had just met.

She wondered if Lord Vale knew of his sister’s unusual opinions.