The Indebted Earl by Erica Vetsch (love letters to the dead TXT) 📕

same feelings toward my crew, especially the younger ones. But …” He sat beside her, not relinquishing her hand. “When the time is right, one must let the younger ones fledge. I have to trust in the training I have instilled in my crew. I know you must have trained Lady Sophia very well indeed, and no matter where she goes, she will be a credit to you. She has matured under your guiding hand, and now, when you visit London together, you will be able to testify to your peers that you have a daughter with a mature, caring heart, who through your guidance and training is both loyal to her promises and capable of seeing them through. She cares so much for others, through your fine example, that she would even forfeit her own time of heartache to see that Lady Richardson had an opportunity to fulfill her fondest wish. I imagine your peers in London will be both envious of your fine efforts in Lady Sophia’s training but also quite admiring of your relationship with your daughter.”

Mother blinked, her mouth opening a fraction, and was that pink suffusing her cheeks? Sophia had never seen the like. The captain had unplumbed depths. And he wasn’t finished.

“I give you my word as an officer of the Royal Navy that neither Lady Sophia nor Lady Richardson will come to any grief under my care.” He stared so intently into the dowager’s eyes that Sophie found herself nodding.

Then his gaze broke away from Mother and found Sophie. His look sent a tremor through her. It was almost as if he believed the things he was saying to Mother about her.

“That’s all very nice, Captain Wyvern, but my answer is still no.” Mother folded her hands in her lap. “While I am quite certain you are capable of protecting Lady Sophia and Lady Richardson, you are not a fit companion for them, being merely a sea captain. I’m sure you understand.”

Sophie wanted to protest, but Mother would entrench herself deeper into her stated position if Sophie breathed a word against it.

C

HAPTER

5

HE’D BEEN so certain that the dowager duchess would agree, her refusal set him back on his heels. Not to mention the crushed look in Lady Sophia’s eyes. He’d failed her.

Again.

How could he change the dowager’s mind? Or should he advocate rebellion and offer to take the ladies without gaining permission? It was quite ridiculous that a woman of Lady Richardson’s age and position asked leave of anybody for anything.

The return to the manor house was accomplished in silence.

Rodbury waited at the front door. “Captain Wyvern, sir, there is a gentleman in the parlor waiting for you. An Admiral Barrington.”

Thoughts of the dowager disappeared. Barrington was here? Did he have a command for Charles? But why would he deliver new orders in person? Charles vaguely remembered telling Barrington that he would be visiting Lady Richardson, but the admiral must have followed nearly on his heels to arrive so soon.

“I’ll leave you to your meeting.” Lady Sophia walked toward the stairs with her head bowed.

“Please, I’d like you to meet the admiral.”

He entered the parlor and snapped to attention, saluting smartly. “Lady Sophia, may I present Admiral George Barrington.”

The admiral had risen when Lady Sophia entered, and he took her offered hand, bowing over it. “Milady, may I express my sincere condolences on your loss.”

“Thank you.”

She sounded quite composed, but Charles caught the strain in her voice. Was it the mention of her grief, or was it her disappointment in her mother’s stance on the chance to travel?

“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll have refreshments sent in.” Lady Sophia paused at the door. “Admiral, I do hope you will be able to stay? I am sure my brother, the duke, would wish to meet you.”

“Thank you, milady. Most kind.”

When she’d left, Barrington stared at the closed door for a moment. “Well, Wyvern, she’s as lovely as I had been told.” He seemed to realize Charles was still at attention, and shook his head. “At ease, sailor. Come. Sit.” He beckoned to the chair opposite. “We’ve much to discuss.”

“I didn’t imagine you would deliver orders in person, sir.” Charles flicked out the tails on his coat as he sat. “Surely a factotum could have performed the task.”

Barrington dug in his pocket and produced a silver toothpick. He clamped down on it, tucking it into the corner of his mouth. “I’ve not come with orders. I’ve come with news. I am sorry to have to tell you that your uncle has departed this mortal world.”

Charles’s chest heaved like it had been hit by a rogue wave. “He’s dead.” He felt no sorrow, because he hadn’t known the man, had never laid eyes on him.

“I’m afraid so. Your hope he still had time to marry and beget an heir has come to nothing. He died nearly a week hence. Heart, I believe. As his legal successor, you are now the Earl of Rothwell.” Barrington bowed his head slightly. “My lord.”

The title sent a cold, stark wind through Charles. His mind thrust away the notion of a title. He neither wanted nor needed it. He was a sea captain, not an earl. His uncle had wanted nothing to do with him since before his birth. He had shunned his sister—Charles’s mother—and her husband, forbid them to return to the family home, and settled all his attention on his elder sister’s son, Arthur Bracken. The earl and his sister’s hopes had died with Arthur after he tried to assassinate the Prince Regent. Even then the earl had wanted nothing to do with Charles, and Charles felt the same. He had ignored his future inheritance as effectively as his uncle had.

“What about a command?” He held on to a thread of hope.

“For pity’s sake, man, I just informed you that you’ve become a peer of the realm. The last thing on your mind should be trying to find a command. Your place is in