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

and color rode her cheeks. Sunshine from the fanlight over the door bathed her in golden rays.

His heart knocked against his chest, but he wasn’t certain if it was because of the contents of the letter or because she looked so fresh and pretty. Of all the people he knew, she was the one with whom he most wanted to share the news.

“Did you receive a nice message?”

Charles composed himself. He was supposed to be a crusty old sea captain, not a raw schoolboy. He knew now to control his emotions.

“I did. A letter from Admiral Barrington. With Napoleon exiled to Elba, there is talk of placing a blockade about the island, and they will need ships. Ships need captains. The Dogged has been proposed to join the expedition, and Barrington will recommend I be given my old command should the blockade be approved.”

Her lower lip disappeared for a moment. “No wonder you are celebrating. How soon would this happen?”

“Difficult to say. Bureaucracy moves slowly, but to have any effect, the blockade should be formed sooner rather than later. We might be under sail quickly.” He could almost feel the deck beneath his feet, hear a breeze snapping canvas as it unfurled. The ship would need to be provisioned and inspected. She’d suffered some damage in the last battle, but that should have been repaired by now. How many of his old crew would be available and willing? Hopefully, there would be no need of press-gangs. Not with so many sailors without ships.

Sophie came down the stairs, her fingers light on the banister. “So you could be leaving us soon?” Her hand came up to touch the hollow of her collarbone, and he followed the motion. The wistfulness in her voice struck him and made his skin prickle. Dare he imagine she might regret their parting as much as he?

A hint of lemon and beeswax clung to her, testament to the cleaning endeavors underway in the manor house. Here she was, the daughter of a duke, dusting and mopping and scrubbing. What was he doing allowing her to act like a maid in his house? He needed to see about hiring domestic help. The place needed a proper housekeeper and maids and such.

He didn’t even know what positions needed to be filled. If Gateshead had been a frigate, he would know the personnel from the cabin boy to the captain, but a country house? Yet another area in which he would have to rely upon Sophie for help.

There was so much to do, not least of which was to get Lady Sophia and Lady Richardson into a suitable cottage. He absorbed the pang that hit his chest. Would it be proper to ask her to write to him?

The parlor door opened, and Penny emerged, looking over her shoulder. “Bring it through here. We can take it out the back and hang it on the terrace railing to beat it.” Her voice sounded high and fast. “It isn’t too heavy, is it?”

Miles Enys followed, a rolled rug on his shoulder. “No.” He bounced it higher in his grip, his biceps flexing.

“We sure are glad you came. Having someone as strong as you will make the work so much easier.” Penny pressed against the wall as Miles passed.

Miles nodded to both Charles and Sophie, but Penny seemed not to know they were even in the house.

Was the child actually batting her eyes? For a moment, Charles thought Thea’s imitation of Penny flirting with a boy wasn’t far off.

An uneasy thump hit behind his sternum. He had the girls’ futures to organize as well, and from the look of the doe eyes Penny was casting toward the first young man to cross her path at Gateshead, he should prioritize that task.

“Who is that?” Sophie stared down the hall as Penny followed in Miles’s wake.

“An employee.” He told her what he knew of young Mr. Enys. “You haven’t met him yet, I take it?”

“No. I’ve been upstairs taking inventory of the linen cupboards.” Her tongue darted out to moisten her lower lip, and he found himself mimicking the gesture. What was wrong with him to be so distracted? Before he knew it, he’d be flitting his lashes like Penny. He’d do better to concentrate on the matter at hand and not let his imagination fly free.

“Oh, the Reverend Dunhill brought a letter for you as well.” He pulled it from behind his own missive. “Good news, I hope.”

“It’s probably Marcus with a scold for being lax in writing to him. The letter I sent yesterday won’t reach him for several days.” She took the envelope, flipping it to study the wax seal. “Oh, it’s from Mother.”

With her thumbnail, she broke the closure and pulled out the pages. It was a fat letter with small, even handwriting.

“I’ll give you some privacy. I must compose a response to the Admiralty. When you’re finished reading, would you come to the study? I need to compile a list of girls’ schools.” He looked toward where Penny and Miles had disappeared. “Quickly.”

But Sophie wasn’t listening. By the time she had finished the first page, she allowed her hands to drop. Her eyes closed, and she shook her head, tentatively at first, but then emphatically.

“What is it? Is something wrong at home?” He took hold of her elbow gently, in case she was feeling faint. The way the color had drained from her face must have made her light-headed.

“My mother is the absolute …” She looked at the coffered ceiling three stories above. “What is she thinking?” Another pause while she raised the letter and shook it, frustration emanating from her tense muscles. “Why can she not leave me alone? I am not a project to be completed or something broken to be fixed. I can take care of myself, make my own decisions, and choose my own path.”

By her challenging glare, she seemed to want him to agree with her.

“Of course you can?” He had meant to be reassuring,