An Unlikely Plan: A Regency Romance (Gentlemen of London Book 2)

  Text copyright © 2022 by Laura Beers

  Cover art copyright © 2022 by Laura Beers

  Cover art by Blue Water Books

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, copied, or transmitted without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  Also by Laura Beers

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  England, 1813

  A gray mist hung over the ground as Aaron Berkeley, the Earl of Graylocke, stood at his father’s grave. It was hard to believe that his father was dead. He had always seemed larger than life, and Aaron hadn’t thought anything could change that. But he was wrong. Death had crept into their lives, taking what rightfully belonged to it.

  Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he wished that things had been different between the two of them. They had been at odds until his father’s last dying breath. Although they had never been particularly close, that didn’t mean Aaron held any ill-will towards his father.

  He glanced back at the country house, his shoulders drooping. This all belonged to him now. It was daunting to know that from this moment forward his choices would affect generations to come. He was all too aware of the restrictions that came with his new title. He may be an earl, but his life would be one of servitude.

  He missed his carefree life in London. At his father’s behest, they had left Town and retired to their country estate in Huntingdonshire. The doctors thought the clean air in the countryside would aid in recovering from his illness. Sadly, they were mistaken. His health only continued to deteriorate until nothing was left but a shell of the man he once was.

  Aaron knew that he should be grateful for what he had, but his heart was heavy. For once, he wished his father could counsel with him on what he should do. His father had never been shy with expressing his opinions, even if it fell upon deaf ears—which happened more often than not.

  The new earl bowed his head and sighed. He had tarried long enough, and he wouldn’t find any of the answers he was seeking out here. Nothing would be the same now that he had inherited his father’s title.

  “Goodbye, Father,” Aaron murmured before he turned to leave.

  He walked towards his country house, and when he arrived, the main door opened, his stocky butler stepping to the side to allow him entry.

  “Thank you, Colman,” Aaron said as he stepped into the entry hall.

  Colman tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Mr. Burges has arrived and is waiting for you in your study, my lord.”

  “Very good.”

  The words had barely left his mouth when his blonde sister stepped out of the drawing room dressed in a black crepe gown. “Would you care to go riding with me?” Lydia asked.

  “I’m afraid I am unable to do so,” he replied. “I have a meeting with Mr. Burges.”

  “He can wait.”

  “It would be unfathomably rude of me to keep him.”

  Lydia waved her hand in front of her. “I doubt he would even notice. He is most likely hunched over the books and wouldn’t even miss you.”

  “What if we went riding later this afternoon?”

  A small pout formed on Lydia’s lips. “I suppose that would work, but what shall I do until then?”

  “You could practice your needlework.”

  Her pout deepened. “I have been working on my needlework all morning, and I am dreadfully bored,” she responded. “When are we returning to London?”

  “I’m not entirely sure.”

  “I don’t know why Father had to insist we retire to the countryside. It didn’t seem to help his health at all.”

  “We don’t know that for certainty.”

  “Most likely he died from boredom, just as I will.”

  Aaron shook his head. “What a crass thing to say.”

  “I’m merely stating the truth,” she said. “London is far preferable to Huntingdonshire.”

  “You could always practice the pianoforte,” he suggested.

  Lydia crossed her arms over her chest. “I would rather go shopping on Bond Street or tour the menagerie at the Tower of London.”

  Their mother’s voice approached from behind. “Need I remind you that we are in mourning?” she said as she came to stand next to her son. “It would be incredibly frivolous for you to do such things.”

  “I am well aware,” Lydia sighed. “It is maddening that I have to put my life on hold because Father died.”

  “It is our tradition,” their mother said.

  “It is foolhardy,” Lydia countered.

  Their mother gave her an exasperated look. “Regardless, we shall mourn your father for the appropriate length of time.”

  “Why?” Lydia asked. “He was never truly a father to me.”

  “How can you say such a thing?”

  Lydia dropped her arms to her side. “I managed to disappoint Father from the moment I was born a girl and dashed his hopes for a spare,” she replied.

  “Your father loved you,” their mother insisted.

  “No, he tolerated me,” Lydia huffed. “Besides, I rarely saw him. He was always so busy running the estate.”

  “His hard work is the reason we live as comfortably as we do,” their mother remarked.

  “If you will excuse me, I need to meet with Mr. Burges,” Aaron interjected.

  “Of course,” their mother said. “Lydia and I will be in the drawing room, working on our needlework.”

  “I think not,” Lydia stated. “I’m going to my bedchamber to rest.”

  Aaron lifted his brow. “But we only just had breakfast a short time ago.”

  “I care not.” Lydia walked over to the grand staircase and hurried up the steps.

  His mother turned towards him and lowered her voice. “That child is going to be the death of me.”

  “She is just young.”

  “She is entirely too spoiled.”

  “I won’t disagree with you there.” Aaron kissed his mother’s cheek. “Just give her time. She will come around.”

  “I somehow doubt that.”

  Aaron took a step back. “I do apologize, but I have kept Mr. Burges waiting long enough.”

  “Go on, then,” his mother encouraged.

  He turned on his heel and walked towards his study. Once he stepped into the room, he saw Mr. Burges was sitting on a chair that faced the desk, reviewing some papers in his hand. The short, thin man had been his father’s man of business as long as he could remember.

  “I do apologize for keeping you waiting.”

  “There is no need to apologize, my lord,” Mr. Burges said, lowering the papers to his lap. “I have more than enough to keep me busy.”

  Aaron
came around the desk and sat down. “Your note indicated that the matter was rather urgent.”

  “It is,” Mr. Burges said. “I was wondering what you intended to do about Lady Beatrice now that your father has passed.”

  Aaron settled into his seat as he remarked, “I have no desire to marry her, if that is your concern.”

  Mr. Burges stared at him in disbelief. “You would break the marriage contract?”

  “I would,” Aaron replied. “I have no doubt that I will have to pay a substantial sum to settle the debt.”

  “It is much more than that,” Mr. Burges said, stuffing the papers into his satchel. “You will lose your shares of the coal mine.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Mr. Burges rifled through his satchel until he found the paper he was looking for. “The marriage contract was very specific on the matter. If you don’t marry Lady Beatrice Harford by your thirtieth birthday, then your percentage of the mine will resort to her father, Lord Southcombe.”

  “My thirtieth birthday?” he questioned. “That is only two months away!”

  Mr. Burges extended the paper to him and continued. “Your father’s will also reiterates that fact. The will was filed at the church probate court, and you can see that it was up to snuff.”

  Aaron accepted the paper, which turned out to be his father’s will. He took a moment to review the document and saw that Mr. Burges was telling the truth.

  “Blazes,” he muttered under his breath. How could his father have done something so underhanded to him?

  Aaron dropped the page onto the desk and asked, “Is there any way to contest the will?”

  Mr. Burges shook his head. “You could try, but I do believe it would be a waste of time,” he responded. “I am not a solicitor, mind you, but it does appear rather binding, especially since the same conditions are set forth in the marriage contract.”

  “I can’t believe he did this to me.”

  “Your father made it no secret that he wanted to unite your two families through marriage, and it appears that he is forcing your hand.”

  “That he is.”

  “I daresay the loss of income from the mine could cripple your family,” Mr. Burges explained. “Your estate has not turned a profit in many years, and you would be forced to start selling off land to make ends meet.”

  “Wonderful,” Aaron muttered.

  Mr. Burges looked at him curiously. “May I ask what your objections are towards Lady Beatrice?”

  An image of a lanky girl came to his mind, her large front teeth that were not proportional with her thin face taking center stage in his mind. “I haven’t seen Lady Beatrice in many years, not since I left for Oxford, but she used to follow me around relentlessly,” he replied. “She was unfortunate-looking, with her buck teeth and lanky frame.”

  Mr. Burges’s lips twitched. “I could make some inquiries and see if she grew into her teeth.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said. “What if I could convince Lord Southcombe to break the marriage contract?”

  “Why would he agree to such a thing?”

  “I have to at least try.”

  “I wish you luck, but I do not believe Lord Southcombe will be accommodating. They drafted the marriage contract right after Lady Beatrice was born.”

  Aaron picked up the will and handed it back to Mr. Burges. “Yet my father didn’t tell me of its existence until just last year.”

  “That was poorly done on his part.”

  “I agree,” Aaron said. “With any luck, Lord Southcombe will be reasonable and we can put this distasteful matter behind us.”

  Mr. Burges slipped the will into his satchel and shared, “Lord Southcombe is in Town for the Season, and I can confirm that his family has accompanied him.”

  “Wonderful,” he said. “I do need to return to London to take up my seat at the House of Lords.”

  “Before you meet with Lord Southcombe, I would encourage you to call on Lady Beatrice,” Mr. Burges said as he rose.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Perhaps she is not as unfortunate-looking as you remember,” Mr. Burges remarked.

  Aaron leaned back in his chair. “It wasn’t just her looks that I take issue with. She was a bloody nuisance.”

  Mr. Burges picked up his satchel and draped it over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t lead with that when you speak to Lord Southcombe,” he advised. “Will there be anything else?”

  “Not at this time,” Aaron replied.

  With a tip of his head, Mr. Burges departed from the study, leaving Aaron to his thoughts. He couldn’t fathom why his father had done this to him. Surely, he must have known that he wouldn’t suit with Lady Beatrice. They had been thrown together as youths, and he’d hated every moment of it. She was many years younger than him, but she had always tried to keep up with him, no matter how many times he attempted to leave her behind.

  He didn’t need to see Lady Beatrice again to confirm what he already knew. They would never suit. It was preposterous to even think that they would have a happy union. His father must have been mad to think it reasonable to plan a marriage decades in advance without consulting either party. Now he just had to convince Lord Southcombe of this.

  Lady Beatrice Harford exited her bedchamber and made her way down the hall to her mother’s room. She was dressed in her blue riding habit and her brown hair was tied in a neat chignon at the base of her neck.

  She came to a stop outside of the door and knocked, waiting to be invited in.

  “Come in,” her mother invited.

  Beatrice opened the door and stepped inside. “Good morning, Mother,” she greeted.

  Her mother moved to sit up in her bed and rested her back against the wall. “Good morning,” she replied. “I see that you are dressed to go riding.”

  “John will be accompanying me.”

  “Shouldn’t you wait to go riding during the fashionable hour?”

  Beatrice came to stand next to her mother’s bed. “I do not care a whit about being seen,” she replied.

  “That is foolish talk.” Her mother softened her words with a weary smile. “I just want you to enjoy yourself this Season.”

  “I have every intention to.” Beatrice’s eyes roamed over her mother’s pale face, and she was saddened by the deepening wrinkles that scarred her features.

  Her mother reached for a teacup that sat on a table next to her and took a sip. As she returned it to the saucer, she said, “I do feel awful that you were forced to miss last Season due to my health.”

  “You mustn’t concern yourself with that,” Beatrice replied. “Besides, it doesn’t truly matter since I am betrothed.”

  “That you are, but I want you to experience the whirlwind of a London Season. It is unlike anything you have ever experienced.”

  “It sounds dreadful.”

  Her mother gave her a knowing smile. “I know you prefer life in the countryside, but you must give London a chance.”

  “Why is that?”

  “London is charming.”

  “I disagree. It is entirely too crowded, and there is a distinct pungent odor in the air.”

  “You get used to that smell.”

  “I would prefer not to.”

  With a shake of her head, her mother said, “Regardless, when you are wed, you will be a countess and will be required to participate in the Season.”

  “I suppose you make a valid point.”

  “I always do.”

  Beatrice laughed. “I see that you are in a jovial mood this morning.”

  “I am,” her mother admitted. “The pain in my joints isn’t as intense this morning.”

  “That is good.”

  The door opened and her mother’s lady’s maid stepped into the room with a tray in her hand. “It is time for your medicine,” Sarah announced.

  Beatrice took a step back. “I will go eat some breakfast before my ride.”

  “Do enjoy yourself, dear,” her mother e
ncouraged.

  “I will,” Beatrice said before she departed from the room.

  As she headed towards the dining hall on the main floor, she found her heart was heavy, knowing there was nothing she could do to alleviate her mother’s suffering. How she wished she could take the pain away!

  She had just descended the stairs when she saw the balding butler step out of the drawing room with a vase of flowers in his hand.

  Barney tipped his head at her. “Good morning, my lady.”

  “Good morning,” she greeted, coming to a stop next to him. “My brother and I wish to go riding this morning.”

  “I shall see to it,” Barney responded.

  Beatrice continued on to the dining room, where she found her father sitting at the head of the table, reading the newssheets. He was a large man with a dusting of white hair and a stern demeanor.

  Her father rose when he saw her. “You are up early,” he acknowledged.

  Beatrice sat down on his right. “John and I intend to go riding this morning.”

  “Does John know this?” her father joked as he returned to his seat. “I daresay that he is not known to be an early riser.”

  “No, he most assuredly is not.” Beatrice leaned to the side as a footman placed a cup of chocolate in front of her. “Is there anything of interest in the newssheets this morning?”

  “I’m afraid it is just filled with news about the war.” Her father folded the papers and set them on the table. “I did, however, receive something that you might find interesting.”

  “Which is?”

  “Lord Graylocke sent word that he wishes to speak to me.”

  Beatrice reached for her cup of chocolate with a suddenly shaky hand. “Is that so?” she asked, hoping her voice did not betray her conflicting emotions.

  “With any luck, you two will be married after the banns are posted.”