A Guiding Light for the Lost Earl: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Novel Read online

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2019 by Abby Ayles

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Table of Contents

  A Guiding Light for the Lost Earl

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  The Extended Epilogue

  A Message from Abby

  Get Abby’s Exclusive Material

  About Abby Ayles

  Melting a Duke’s Winter Heart - Preview

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Also by Abby Ayles

  A Guiding Light for the Lost Earl

  Chapter 1

  Emma scrambled through the mess of paperwork atop her worn, faded desk.

  She knew that her eyes must be deceiving her, and she searched frantically for something, a single document or receipt that would prove it so.

  “Would that I had not let everything become so haphazard and disheveled,” she muttered to herself.

  She looked up at the ceiling, staring intently at one of the spots where the paint had chipped and cracked and took a deep, deliberate breath. She knew that she was not entirely to blame for the state of the small study, but she had been neglectful of the rapidly increasing paperwork.

  She paused a moment longer to rub vainly at her temple before resuming her hopeless search for the piece of paper that would be her salvation.

  One by one, she scoured every document in front of her. After the careful examination of each one, she laid them in as neat a stack as possible on the least cluttered corner of her desk.

  Her heart rose further into her throat with each page she placed in the discard pile. If she did not find something like salvation, and soon, her bad situation would worsen threefold.

  She had known that the household’s finances had been strained for some time. Her family had never been wealthy, but her family had never been destitute and begging in the streets for their supper, for which Emma has always been grateful.

  Since her parents’ deaths, however, the household’s already tight and struggling budget had become almost nonexistent. And, despite her best efforts, expenses continued to rise, and money continued to dwindle.

  Along with her regular household costs, she also had debts associated with her brother, and she had spent months struggling to scrape by.

  However, now that her father’s business was failing, the money was diminishing more quickly than ever. And with the meager pittance from the business now barely trickling in, the investments on which she had so heavily relied previously were becoming more of a risk than an asset.

  She could no longer sit back and hope that they might happen to bring in enough money to get through the month or even the week.

  As she reached the final piece of paper, she felt the air rush out of her lungs. The dreaded possibility of being unable to scrape together enough income to survive had become a cruel reality.

  To her dismay, she realized that there was nothing left to do but for her to find some form of work.

  If only Marcus were here, she thought.

  She shook her head, trying to stop the unwelcome thought from entering her mind, but it crept in to spite her and clung tightly.

  She flinched as the image of her brother’s face came to her mind. Marcus would, under normal circumstances, be the one handling all of this. If not for his current situation, it would be his responsibility to tend to this household and keep their father’s business alive.

  Emma felt a strong wave of anger and sadness threaten to overwhelm her, and she willed the thoughts of her brother and the circumstances that rendered him unfit to take his place as the remaining man of their family.

  She could not let herself think of the abandonment she felt. No matter how much she wished it otherwise, she was alone in this, and she must focus on finding some way to do this on her own.

  Emma gave an exasperated, emotion-thickened sigh and buried her face in her hands. She could feel the tears stinging her eyes, and although she was alone, she did not wish to succumb to a fit of hysteria.

  It would serve no purpose but to distract her from the solving of her financial predicament. She knew that it would take drastic action to set her money situation right, but she feared for her future.

  Just then, she heard a loud knocking at her front door. She rose quickly, annoyed at the disruption, but also grateful for the unexpected need to suppress her pending emotional outburst.

  She waited for the sound of the door opening and her butler welcoming the unknown guest inside. Then, with a pang of guilt and fresh sadness, she remembered that she had been forced to fire him just the week before.

  Over the past several months, she had let go of much of her family’s staff. The only servants she had thus far been able to keep were her cook and one of her maids, Lydia, who also happened to be her dear friend.

  Emma willed herself to not think about what this terrible financial situation likely meant for Lydia’s employment tenure. She wanted to believe that she could pull together to at least keep Lydia on, but she was quickly losing hope.

  Wiping furiously at her eyes and pressing her teeth together to prevent her chin from trembling, she hastened to answer the door.

  “Good morning, Miss Baker,” a familiar voice said. The man removed his hat and bowed slightly in greeting.

  Emma choked back a relieved sob.

  “Hello, Mr. Rowley,” she said, giving the gentleman a brief curtsey, which in turn gave her cause to avoid making eye contact with him for the moment.

  She hoped that the quaking of her voice had not given away her emotional state, and she kept her eyes lowered for as long as possible. When she did at last look at the man, he was studying her carefully, and she knew that her voice had betrayed her.

  “I do hope I’ve not arrived too early for you, but I have something I wish to discuss with you,” the gentleman said, peering thoughtfully over the rim of his spectacles.

  Emma winced, hoping it was not more bad news. She donned her best forced smile.

  “Not at all, Mr. Rowley,” she said. “Please, do come in.”

  Lucius Rowley had been her family’s solicitor for some time now. With luck, perhaps he could offer her a suggestion she had not yet considered. He had, after all, offered such advice and
suggestions in the recent past.

  In fact, he has saved her from a great deal of embarrassment on more than one occasion. He had also been the only source of assistance she had had in sorting out all of her family’s money problems.

  As grateful as she was to him for that, there was still a sense of wrongness about it to her. It all felt against the natural order of things because, especially now with the finances so dire, she knew she would be unable to keep Mr. Rowley in her family’s employ for much longer.

  Guilt began to creep into her stomach, and she briefly reconsidered asking for still more help from the man.

  In the end, however, she realized that he was likely her last hope. Especially if she were to have any hope of keeping Lydia.

  When they reached the study, Emma gestured for Mr. Rowley to take a seat. He helped himself to a tumbler of the brandy that her father used to drink before seating himself and placing his hat in his lap.

  As Emma took her own seat, the man took a long indulgent sip from his glass.

  “Your father certainly had good taste when it came to spirits,” he said.

  Emma, wishing to learn the reason for Mr. Rowley's unexpected visit, smiled wanly.

  “Indeed, he did,” she said. “What was it that you wanted to discuss?”

  The man took another sip, again searching Emma’s face. He placed the tumbler on the desk and sat back in his chair.

  “First and foremost, I wanted to see how you are faring,” he said.

  Emma bit her lip to cease its trembling.

  “In truth, not very well,” she admitted.

  Mr. Rowley nodded.

  “I suspected as much by your crestfallen expression when I arrived,” he said. “That is, I should hope that a visit from me would not elicit such heartbreak.”

  Emma looked up, aghast that the man could think such a thing. Then, she saw the twinkle in his eye, and she laughed.

  “I should think not,” she said. “In fact, I’m rather grateful that you came just now.”

  “Oh?” he asked. “And why might that be, my dear?”

  Emma sighed.

  “I have been going over the accounts from this month, and I discovered something very disquieting.”

  “Oh?” Mr. Rowley asked again, his expression quickly tensing.

  Emma’s guilt returned. She felt that he must know that she would soon need to forfeit his services, and she almost abandoned the idea of asking for further assistance.

  However, since he had been with her family for so long, she felt she owed him the complete truth, no matter how difficult it was for her.

  Mr. Rowley seemed to notice her hesitation. His eyebrows crinkled with worry.

  “Go on, my dear,” he said, his voice tight but warm.

  At his encouraging words, tears began to stream down Emma’s face.

  “The financial paperwork shows that money is almost twice as low as it was last month,” she said.

  The solicitor nodded, thoughtful.

  “And we determined that, with Marcus’s… affairs, expenses would double,” he said, turning his hat over in his hands.

  Struggling once more against the wave of hysteria threatening to engulf her. Unable to speak, she nodded again.

  Mr. Rowley finished off the last of his brandy. Then, he sighed.

  “My dear, you do understand how imperative it is that you eradicate unnecessary expenses,” he said. “And I do mean all unnecessary expenses.”

  Emma swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat.

  “Yes,” she said. “And I am also aware that that includes your services.” And Lydia’s, as well, she added silently.

  To her surprise, Mr. Rowley smiled.

  “You needn’t concern yourself with that just now,” he said. “We can discuss my position and pay at a later time.”

  Emma exhaled sharply. While she was grateful for his words, her pride could not allow her to accept charity in any form.

  As if he had read her thoughts, Mr. Rowley waved his hand dismissively.

  “My dear, I do not wish to insult your pride. I just mean that payment can always be negotiated,” he said.

  At this, Emma relaxed. She still was not fond of being indebted to her solicitor, but she did need as much help as he could offer, and paying late was better than never paying.

  “However, I do believe that your remaining servants are costing you very critically needed money,” he continued.

  Emma’s breath caught in her throat. She had anticipated this news, but she had still dared to hope that he would not deliver it.

  Again, as if she had spoken aloud, Mr. Rowley nodded.

  “I know that is the last thing you wished to hear,” he said. “But you simply cannot afford anything more than the bare essentials. Especially with the whole Marcus situation.”

  Emma withdrew her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. Again, she suppressed the anger and sense of abandonment she was beginning to feel more often lately.

  She nodded once more, barely holding back a sob.

  “That, however, brings me to the primary reason for my visit,” the solicitor said.

  Emma put away her handkerchief and looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

  “As it happens, I know a man who is searching for a governess for his two children,” he said.

  Emma stared at Mr. Rowley dumbly.

  “Oh, but I know nothing about schooling children,” she said.

  “Perhaps not, but you are a very intelligent young woman,” he said.

  Emma blushed. Because of her family’s poverty, she had had few friends as a child. She had found her companionship amongst the pages of hundreds of books throughout her life, and it was true that she was very well learned.

  However, she very much doubted that she had the ability to teach someone else what she knew, especially young children. Besides, she knew nothing about this man.

  What if he was an unreputable type? She was sure that Mr. Rowley would not make the suggestion if that were the case, but what if there was something about this man that her solicitor did not yet know?

  She was preparing to speak up and express her concerns when Mr. Rowley looked at his pocket watch and spoke again.

  “My dear, I do hate to leave you so suddenly,” he said, tucking his watch back into his pocket, “but I am running late for a meeting.”

  He rose from his seat, leaving his empty tumbler teetering on the edge of the desk. Emma barely noticed. She nodded and followed the solicitor to the door.

  “Promise me that you will at least consider it,” he said as they reached the door.

  Emma furrowed her brow. She could make no such promise because she had already made up her mind. She could not go to work for a man she had never even met.

  “You have nothing to fear, Miss Baker,” Mr. Rowley said. “Another young woman I know now works for him as a nanny. He is a good, if rather intense, man, and he is quite wealthy. I am sure that the pay would go a long way toward seeing you out of this debt.”

  Emma remained silent. Knowing that there was at least one other woman in his employ that Mr. Rowley knew, eased her mind marginally, and she knew she desperately needed the money. However, she could not commit to a response without giving it a great deal of thought.

  “I promise, I will consider it,” she said at last.

  “Very good,” Mr. Rowley said. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper.

  “Here is his address. If you decide to apply for the position, simply pen him a letter,” he said.

  She reached out tentatively and took the paper.

  “Thank you, Mr. Rowley,” she said.

  “My pleasure, Miss Baker,” he said. He put back on his hat and bowed. “Good day, my dear.”

  ***

  Emma dismissed Lydia early that evening. She would normally have Lydia help her dress for bed, but she knew that she could not look at her friend’s face without crying.

  She knew that Mr.
Rowley was right and that she must let Lydia and her cook go, but she was emotionally exhausted, and she was not prepared to break the news to her staff just yet. Especially, not poor Lydia.

  As she brushed her hair, she thought about the governess position. Although she still felt some trepidation about the idea, she knew that she must find work, and quickly.

  Until something could be done about Marcus, money would only keep bleeding out of the household and, before she knew it, she would be begging in the streets.

  With a sigh, Emma made up her mind. She retrieved the paper with the man’s name and address. She studied it for a moment. Francis Blackburn, the name read. Emma thought for a moment, trying to recall whether she knew the name, but she gave up when it did not ring any bells.