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

since learning of his inheritance, the man acted as if someone had informed him he was about to be deported to Botany Bay for a life of penal servitude. Most men would be giddy at the prospect of a peerage and property. Why wasn’t the captain?

Rich had never mentioned that Captain Wyvern had also been heir to a title. Had Rich known? Perhaps not. It didn’t seem as if the captain enjoyed talking about his past.

As they rocked along the coastal road, she tried to ease her stiff back without drawing notice. Though the journey had been pleasant, aches and jostling and confinement had taken their toll. Last night they had stayed in Lyme Regis, and Sophie felt the bloom of adventure wearing off. Now that they were in Devonshire, with glimpses of the sea out her window, she was ready to settle in a cottage.

First they were going to the captain’s new property, Gateshead. The estate was only a few miles from Lyme Regis, but they had arrived in the town so late last night, the captain thought it best they find lodgings rather than press on.

Or perhaps he was that reluctant to get to his destination.

“When was the last time you visited the estate?” Sophie asked, to break the silence in the coach.

The captain stirred. “I’ve never been there.” He studied the rolling fields out his window.

Mamie leaned forward. “Never been to your family’s home?”

His mouth thinned.

They were prying. An unforgiveable breach of protocol. Discomfort was writ plain on his face. He owed them nothing, certainly not explanations. Though she could admit to herself she was curious beyond what was considered proper, and her mind populated all sorts of reasons why he might never have laid eyes on Gateshead.

“You don’t have to tell us. Your reasons are your own, and we don’t wish to invade your privacy.” Sophie winked at Mamie to let her know there was no harm done.

He didn’t speak immediately, and then he shrugged. “If you’re going to stay in the region, some version of the story will reach your ears eventually. Better it should come from me. My mother’s brother was the previous Earl of Rothwell, recently deceased. My uncle never married and was the youngest of three children. The eldest, Eliza, married a diplomat and courtier named Nathaniel Bracken, and she had one son, Arthur Bracken, known as Viscount Fitzroy.”

Sophie’s mouth fell open, and she blinked.

“Yes, that Arthur Bracken. It turns out in addition to being a less-than-competent assassin, he was also not the legitimate son of my aunt Eliza. Nathaniel Bracken and Aunt Eliza passed him off as her son, though his real mother had been Nathaniel’s first wife, a Frenchwoman he met in Normandy. They hid Arthur’s origins by disappearing into the country for a period of time, and because our family was estranged, no one was the wiser. Portraying Arthur as an Englishman ensured he would be the next in line to inherit the earldom and would sidestep the awkwardness of being French in a country that was at war with France. All of this came to light after the investigation into the assassination plot earlier this year.”

Sophie pondered this blackest of black sheep in the Rothwell family line. No wonder Captain Wyvern did not wish to discuss it openly. Her brother, Marcus, had been involved with the capture of Arthur Bracken, having been a guest at White Haven estate last year, where the assassination attempt on the Prince Regent’s life had been made. Though she had tried to worm details out of Marcus, Sophie hadn’t been able to crack his reticent defenses. What she knew of the affair she’d gleaned from the newspapers and her mother’s gossip. Unreliable sources, to be sure.

Captain Wyvern let out a sigh. “As for my never having been to the estate, that’s easily explained. There was a rift in the family before I was even born. My uncle disowned my mother when she had the audacity to marry for love, well beneath her station. She eloped with my father, an able seaman, and she set up house in Portsmouth, while my father continued to serve in the Royal Navy. They had me, sent me to a day school for would-be sailors, and when I was twelve, I enlisted in the navy. My mother had been forbidden from ever returning to Gateshead, and when my uncle learned of my birth, he issued the same command regarding me, even though I was his heir for a time, before Arthur came on the scene.”

“That’s dreadful. What a terrible man your uncle must have been.” Sophie couldn’t imagine making such a decree against a child, who had no part in his parentage, nor shunning a sister merely because she married for love.

Sophie felt a kinship with Charles’s mother, though she hadn’t suffered the same extremes. The Duchess of Haverly hadn’t been thrilled with Sophie’s selection of a husband either, thinking a baron too low on the register for a duke’s daughter, though she’d resigned herself eventually. A chill went through Sophie as she recalled that her mother had plans to reopen the marriage discussion when Sophie returned from her trip to the seaside.

Why couldn’t Mother understand that Sophie had no plans to fall in love again? And Sophie would never marry for less than love.

They passed through a village, shops, houses. A church flashed by. Faces stared as they made their way.

“That’s Gateshead Village. According to the stories my mother told, you must go through the village to get to the estate on the peninsula.” Charles supplied the information, but his voice was devoid of emotion. Was he excited? Uneasy? In his place she would be filled to the brim with expectations and adventure, and perhaps a bit of vindication?

The carriage traveled along a lane bordered on one side by a long hedgerow, and it slowed, turning through a pair of gates to a long, winding road that led south toward the sea.

The captain shifted in his seat,