The Twin Sister’s Brooding Earl (Preview)

Chapter One

“There’s a discrepancy here, Papa,” Miss Eleanor Prescott said, her quill pausing over the ledger through which she had been combing. She turned the ledger around and pushed it across the desk to where her father sat, tallying sums in a large, leather-bound book. He looked up as she placed the book under his nose. “See here. The tax on the shipments from Gibraltar was listed as 12%, which means that the fee should have been two pounds and ten pence. But it’s been written down that it’s two pounds and fourteen pence.”

Mr Charles Prescott pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he frowned down at the numbers that his clerk, Mr Shipley, had written down weeks earlier.

“Ahh, yes, my dear,” he said at last, smiling up at Eleanor. “You are precisely right. Mr Shipley must have put that down wrong. How clever you are to catch that.” Mr Prescott’s eyes shone with admiration. “Did you do those sums in your head, my dear girl?”

“Yes,” Eleanor said, smiling softly and looking back down at the ledger. As much as she was glad to help her father with the clerical side of his shipping business, she didn’t know what to do whenever he praised her. Praise is not something that is usually doled out to me.

For a moment, Eleanor’s heart clenched as she thought of what her mother would say if she could hear Eleanor correcting mistakes done by one of her father’s clerks and doing sums in her head. Mathematics is not a suitable pursuit for a young lady! What kind of man will want a wife who can calculate sums faster than he can? You had much better put your time and effort into accomplishments that will win you a husband–like your sister does!

But Eleanor was never going to have the kind of accomplishments her twin sister had, nor was she going to be charming and vivacious the way Lydia was, nor could she converse easily with strangers and suitors alike, which was why Eleanor was currently not engaged to the Earl of Ashdene as Lydia was.

“What is it, my dear?” her father asked, and Eleanor shook her head. She’d been lost in her thoughts, but it was better not to think too much of the multitude of ways in which she’d failed her mother and would always be inferior to her sister. If she let herself linger on those thoughts, she’d never have a moment’s peace.

“Nothing, Papa,” she said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I was simply thinking of the fact that the tax on shipments from Gibraltar has gone up significantly in the past year. Wasn’t it just at 11.5% last year?”

“Yes, you’re right,” Mr Prescott said, his face lighting up with pride at her observation. “But these rates come and go depending on the routes open to us and the quality of the ships we can sail there. The faster and sturdier the ships, the more trade we can have with Gibraltar, and with more trade, the rates will go down. It’s all a matter of supply and demand.”

“Yes, Papa,” Eleanor said. She paused for a moment, considering before speaking. It really wasn’t any of her business to ask about her sister’s upcoming marriage, but after spending time as a chaperone, with her sister’s fiancé, she couldn’t help having some curiosity.

“Is that why Lydia is marrying the Earl of Ashdene?” she asked at last, getting up the courage. “Because his family makes such fast and sturdy ships?”

Her father chuckled and set down his quill, giving her an indulgent smile. “Lydia is marrying the Earl of Ashdene because he is a smart man who sees both what a beautiful and enigmatic wife she will make him and the advantage of combining his ship-building empire with our shipping empire.”

Eleanor paused, letting this sink in. “And do you think… Do you think he loves her?”

This time, Mr Prescott laughed much more heartily. “Love? My dear, how should I know? I believe he is fond of her. From my interactions with him, I have every reason to believe that he will treat your sister well. But love rarely enters into the minds of the nobility when they marry. They marry for strategic alliances.”

“But you and Mama married for love,” Eleanor pointed out.

“Well, we are not nobility. But your sister marrying up into the aristocracy is the best thing that could happen to this family. The earl has a title, and Lydia has a dowry fit for a king, not to mention a father who is going to keep earning more and more–aided, of course, by his brilliant other daughter.” He winked at her here, and Eleanor forced herself to smile.

She knew her father was only saying this to be kind. It wasn’t as if, as a woman, she could actually take over his business for him in the future. If she were a man, well then, she’d be perfectly suited for it, what with her mind for mathematics. But as a woman, she would be expected to marry and thus improve the family fortunes that way. But there was no way she would ever make as brilliant a match as Lydia had. It was rare for an untitled miss, the scion of a rich but upstart industrialist family, to marry into the aristocracy. Although, as their mother told them often, it was becoming more and more common as the aristocracy began to bleed money. Still, it was unlikely that Eleanor would ever secure a man like the Earl of Ashdene.

Although Eleanor was only fifteen minutes younger than Lydia, she had been securely in her shadow for their entire lives. Lydia had always been outgoing and gregarious. As a girl, these qualities had made her headstrong and even pushy, but as an adult, they had mellowed to make her the most vivacious and beguiling woman in the ton. Eleanor, meanwhile, was shy, tongue-tied around those she didn’t know well, and exhausted easily by the social gatherings their mother made them attend. She much preferred to be here, balancing the books with her father than out at a ball or musicale.

To be fair to Lydia, she would have preferred to be alone reading her poetry books than out attending balls and musicales. For all her outgoing nature, she also valued the quiet contemplation of the mind. But she had dutifully done as their mother had requested and attended the balls and parties, flirted with the gentlemen, and allowed herself to be courted by an earl–until, of course, she had secured his proposal.

Eleanor might have resented her sister for all of this, but it was hard to resent Lydia anything. She was loving, kind, and generous, and she never made Eleanor feel bad about herself and even stood up to their mother whenever Mrs Prescott enumerated Eleanor’s many faults.

“I believe that Lydia will be happy,” her father concluded, turning back to his leather-bound book and peering back at the minuscule writing he had been deciphering. “Now let us get back to the work at hand! It will not get done without us.”

Eleanor nodded and also turned back to the ledger. She breathed in and closed her eyes briefly as the familiar smells of leather, ink, and vellum overwhelmed her senses. Perhaps Lydia really would be happy with the earl. But she, Eleanor, was happiest here, surrounded by books, working with her father, and doing what she did best. Her heart temporarily swelled with joy. She was lucky that her father still allowed her, at twenty-one, to help him with such tasks. It was all she ever wanted to do.

For a quarter of an hour longer, they continued working together in companionable silence. Then, a knock interrupted them, and they looked up as Eleanor’s lady’s maid appeared in the doorway.

“Miss Eleanor, your mother requests your presence in the drawing room. All the ladies have gathered for tea, including your cousin, Miss Andrews.”

“Thank you, Kat,” Eleanor said, a familiar knot of dread forming in her stomach as she set down her quill in the bottle of ink.

Her father also looked disappointed as she crossed something off in the leather-bound book and sighed. “Very well then, you better be off, my love or your mother will send a search party to look for you.”

For a moment, Eleanor considered asking her father if she could stay with him, just this once. But she knew it was to no avail. He always sided with her mother in the end, mostly in an attempt to keep peace, and anyway, Eleanor knew that Lydia could use her support. The ladies, undoubtedly, would be discussing Lydia’s upcoming nuptials.

Still, the knot of dread was heavy in her stomach as she excused herself from the study and left her sanctuary behind to join her mother, sisters, and cousin in the drawing room.

Another afternoon of watching Lydia shine while I fade even more into the background, she thought gloomily.

And indeed, the moment she opened the door to the drawing room and entered, her mother was in the middle of recounting another story of Lydia and the earl’s courtship to Catherine, their cousin, who sat on the sofa opposite Mrs Prescott with a look of forced interest on her face. For a moment, Eleanor had to stifle a small laugh. Catherine had heard this story many times already, but she was a patient and kind person, and she wouldn’t interrupt Mrs Prescott in the telling.

“The earl was so effortlessly chivalrous with our dear Lydia!” Mrs Prescott was saying. “He helped her up into the carriage himself and made sure that her parasol was in place before he took the reins. And what a command of those horses he had! I have never seen a better rider in all my days. And this from a shipping family! I’m sure I’ve never seen my dear Charles riding–he is far too preoccupied with the sea. But of course, the earl was excellent with the horses, guiding them with grace and elan. And when Lydia dropped one of her gloves, he stopped the carriage at once and very gallantly went and retrieved it for her! He didn’t even send his manservant! He went himself!”

“That is very gentlemanly, indeed,” Catherine said, smiling at Lydia, who was sitting next to Mrs Prescott and looking a tad glum. “You must be very excited to marry such a kind and generous man.”

“Oh yes,” Lydia said, although to Eleanor’s ears, the words lacked some conviction. “I couldn’t have asked for a better man or match.”

“Ahh, Eleanor, there you are,” Mrs Prescott said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in her other daughter, who seated herself in an armchair across from the rest of the group. “I was just wondering where you’d got to. Don’t tell me you were helping your father with his work again.”

Before Eleanor could answer, Mrs Prescott had turned back to Catherine. “This one is always in there with her father, balancing budgets, calculating sums, and doing I know not what! Such a waste of her good looks. It is no wonder that she hasn’t yet secured a husband-not even any proposals, despite being out for several Seasons!”

Eleanor felt herself shrink into the armchair. It was always like this with her mother. Mrs Prescott never had a kind word to say to her and would gloss over any of her accomplishments in favour of her sister’s. Their father tried to intervene and point out Eleanor’s abilities, but Mrs Prescott dismissed them. The only accomplishment she seemed truly proud of was marrying well.

Lydia caught Eleanor’s gaze and rolled her eyes. Eleanor gave her a small smile of thanks.

I’m lucky to have her, at least. And Catherine.

She smiled at her cousin as well, who smiled warmly back.

“It’s lovely to see you, Eleanor,” Catherine said. “Your mother was just telling me more about the upcoming nuptials. I can’t believe it’s so soon!”

“Well, the earl is taking care of everything, of course,” Mrs Prescott said, and Catherine was forced to turn back to her and pretend to smile in interest again as Mrs Prescott began to outline every detail of the forthcoming wedding.

Eleanor, meanwhile, tried to ignore the familiar ache that her mother’s lack of pride in her always elicited. Instead, she let her mind drift to her sister’s courtship, which she had witnessed much of. As Lydia’s twin sister, she was often with her on the outings that the earl organized and had overheard many of their conversations. This had allowed her to learn much about her sister’s fiance and to form a rather different opinion than her father had about whether or not Lydia would be happy with him.

It was true that the earl seemed as if he would treat Lydia well. Eleanor didn’t doubt that he was a good man. But where Lydia was charming, outgoing, romantic, and warm, the earl was reserved, serious, practical, and cool. He seemed to have great intelligence, and Eleanor had been impressed on more than one occasion with his incisive questions about their father’s shipping business–questions that Lydia had been unable to answer, and which Eleanor had had to restrain herself from answering.

I think Papa is right that he looks forward to combining our empires, she thought as she watched her mother talk animatedly about the dress being made for Lydia. But Lydia will be bored senseless by him. He doesn’t seem to have a romantic bone in him.

What he did have was a keen intelligence. Even now, Eleanor could remember the sharp, intrigued look that came over the earl’s eyes whenever business became a topic. He had the most unusual eyes Eleanor had ever seen, so she wasn’t surprised that she remembered what they looked like whenever he spoke on a subject that interested him. They were grey, but not just grey: stormy. They reminded her of how the ocean looked after a gale. Even now, the memory of them and the few times they had settled on her brought a shiver to her spine and made goosebumps prickle up her arms. They had spoken of hidden depths, and every time that Eleanor thought about them–about him–she felt an interest and an intrigue that she didn’t understand and could barely even admit to herself.

Her mouth suddenly dry, Eleanor swallowed and looked around. To her surprise, Catherine was watching her, and she sat up a little straight as her cousin’s gaze pierced into her. Their elder cousin, by a few years, Catherine was the only person who had always been able to tell Lydia and Eleanor apart. Perhaps that was why she was such a close confidant of both of them. They could trust her because she saw them both for who they really were.

But now, Eleanor didn’t really want Catherine to know who she really was. Not if she was someone who felt her body shiver with strange longings whenever she thought of her sister’s elusive, mysterious fiancé.

Chapter Two

Thomas Ashbourne, Earl of Ashdene, stared unseeingly down at the pile of correspondence in front of him on the desk, his mind leagues–and years–away. A memory was recurring to him, words his father had once said to him when he was still young and eager to take over the family shipping business and prove his metal.

“The Ashbourne legacy isn’t just about ships and commerce, Thomas. It’s about family, about carrying our legacy forward generations.”

At the age of nineteen, Thomas hadn’t fully understood the meaning of those words. But as the years had passed, he had begun to understand. Wasn’t that part of why he had fallen in love with Maria and been so eager to announce their engagement, even when all the signs pointed to disaster? He could well remember the pride on his father’s face when he had told him he was marrying the daughter of a duke. Almost as well as he could remember the cold, bitter feeling of betrayal when he had heard she had eloped with someone else, breaking his heart and disgracing him in one fell swoop. The pitying glances, the whispers of the ton, those had also been difficult to forget, and even now, five years later, at the august age of twenty-eight, Thomas could remember them as if they were yesterday.

Not that he wanted to remember such unpleasantness. Not today.

You have found yourself a better bride, he told himself. A more suitable bride. One that will be grateful for the change in social class you give her and will not run off with someone else. And one whose dowry and family business can help to save everything Father nearly ruined.

It was a marriage of convenience that he and Miss Lydia Prescott had, and it would suit them both in immeasurable ways. Not only that, but Miss Prescott was a beautiful and kind young lady. She was well suited for the social obligations that being the Countess of Ashdene would require. Yes, in many ways, this was a much better match than Maria, who might have been the daughter of a duke but who was too self-centred to have made a good countess.

Everything will be well, he repeated to himself, as his hand curled into a fist by his side. You are not repeating the mistakes of the past. You are not letting your heart rule your head.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, and the butler arrived to announce the arrival of Lord Sebastian Drake and Mr Marcus Pembroke.

“Ahh yes, show them in; thank you, Martin,” Thomas said, shaking himself as if the bad memories of his father and Maria were cobwebs hanging over him.

Martin bowed out of the room, and moments later, Thomas’s best and oldest friend, Sebastian, and his cousin, Marcus, entered the room.

“My Lord,” Sebastian said, smiling genially as he bowed and then sat down in the chair opposite Thomas. “How are you on this fine day? Contemplating your marriage to the ton‘s loveliest social-climbing industrialist, are you?”

“Don’t insult the man’s fiance, Sebastian,” Marcus warned, his calm, serious eyes flickering between Sebastian and Thomas as he came to stand behind the other vacant chair. “You may find yourself without his patronage.”

Sebastian laughed and shook his head. “Thomas knows I am merely jesting. We are all very excited for his upcoming nuptials, and Miss Prescott might be from an untitled, upstart family, but she herself is loveliness personified. And will make an excellent countess, of course.”

Thomas frowned at Sebastian as he steepled his hands in front of him on the desk.

“I must say I agree with my cousin,” he said. “I’d rather you didn’t call the future Countess of Ashdene social-climbing, or her family upstarts.”

Sebastian laughed again and put a hand to his chest. “Of course. It won’t happen again. You have my sincerest apologies.”

Thomas grunted and relented, not eager, after the memories of Maria, to start a fight with Sebastian. He knew that Sebastian meant well. He and Sebastian had been best friends since their Navy days, and they had been through much together–including when Maria had run off with another man. It had been Sebastian who had got Thomas through those difficult weeks. The fact that he could be a touch of a snob was a forgivable offence, considering what a good friend he’d been to Thomas. He was also a very keen observer of business and managed several shipping investments for the Ashbourne estate. This patronage did sometimes cause friction in the relationship. Although Sebastian had been born to a noble family, he was a second son, which meant he was reliant on Thomas’s patronage for his income. As much as Thomas didn’t like the idea of mixing friendship and business, it was important to him that he show his friend that he would always support him–although Sebastian insisted upon working hard for it.

“She may not be nobility, but Miss Prescott’s connections are nothing to turn your nose up at,” Marcus was saying, his eyes slightly narrowed as he gazed down at Sebastian. “Her father’s ship-building business will allow us to become the dominant shipping enterprise in England once again.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Thomas said, and he gestured for Marcus to sit. Marcus might be his cousin, but he always stood on ceremony and never made any presumptions, which was one of the many reasons Thomas knew he could trust him with his life. “We have much loss to recoup before we can consider ourselves back to where we once were. And the market is more competitive now. Many other shipping businesses dominate the seas now.”

“They are nothing to us,” Sebastian said dismissively. “Especially once you’ve heard my newest idea to cut costs.”

“Oh?” Thomas was intrigued. He had a tendency towards caution and conservatism when it came to the business, and this was another reason he liked to keep Sebastian around: his friend was bold and brave and pushed him to take risks. And now, as he saw the glint of excitement in Sebastian’s eyes, Thomas had a feeling this was one of those times when Sebastian would want him to take a risk.

“You’re paying far too much at the ports we currently use,” Sebastian said, spreading his hands wide as if this were obvious. “You should move to smaller, more inexpensive ports, where you will have to pay much lower docking fees.”

Thomas frowned. “But smaller ports have less experience dealing with shipments of our size and volume. Not to mention that we don’t have relationships with any of the harbour masters in other ports. And, of course, other shipping companies will see our encroachment on their ports as a signal that we plan to push them out.”

“Let them think that,” Sebastian said dismissively. “We do want to push them out! Maybe not right now, but eventually. As for the harbour masters, how hard can it be to form relationships with them? Have them here for dinner, especially with your charming countess, and you will have them eating out of the palm of your hand. They’re not used to rubbing shoulders with earls! They’re used to grubby industrialists, and the refinement of the upper classes will leave them awe-struck.”

Thomas glanced at Marcus, who was also frowning as he stared at Sebastian, his fingers slowly rubbing his chin. Marcus glanced over at Thomas, and a current of understanding passed between them: the late earl, Thomas’s father, had warned about economies in shipping lanes. He would have been against such a move, and both Thomas and Marcus knew it.

“I don’t know,” Thomas said slowly. “The upfront costs of changing ports would have to be offset significantly by the money we’d save in the long term.”

“They would be. I’ve crunched the numbers.” Sebastian reached into his leather satchel and pulled out several sheets of paper, which he handed to Thomas. “Read through them and think it over. But I think it’s a good idea. Your father left you with enormous debts to pay, and without a money-saving scheme like this, I don’t know how you’ll be able to pay them all off before the collectors are hounding you. Not to mention that setting up house with your new wife will cost money.”

“The dowry she brings in will help us enormously,” Thomas pointed out.

“I know. But trust me, having a wife will also cost you money. It always does. And I think it’s best that you use that dowry to stimulate growth and not have to spend all of it paying off debts. The best way to do that is to start saving money on ports.”

“Hmm.” Thomas tapped his fingers against the sheet of paper, thinking it over. “You do make a good point, Sebastian. I’ll think it over.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Sebastian grinned at him, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. “Now, tell us about the wedding. How are you feeling about it? Nervous? Excited? Need advice on the wedding night?”

“Oh, very funny,” Thomas said, rolling his eyes. “But yes, to answer your question, I am feeling excited. Miss Prescott is an accomplished and charming young lady, and I know she will make a very fine countess.”

Sebastian nodded. “As long as you’re happy, old sport. That’s what matters. And even if you aren’t violently in love with her yet, I’m sure you will be soon. She’s quite easy on the eyes, wouldn’t you say, Marcus?”

He elbowed Marcus playfully, who responded with raised eyebrows and a small, curt nod.

“Oh, lighten up,” Sebastian said, rolling his eyes. “This should be a joyous occasion! Our earl is getting married. For real this time.”

“Let us hope it goes through,” Thomas said darkly. “I could not bear another scandal like last time.”

Sebastian’s face fell, and he sobered at once. “I have no doubt that everything will be well, Thomas,” he said more gently. “The girl seems smitten with you.”

Thomas nodded, his throat a little tight. He wasn’t sure he agreed that Miss Prescott seemed smitten with him. If anything, she seemed politely preferential to him. But she had not displayed any of the passionate signs of love that he and Maria had once shared.

Which is preferable, of course. I do not want love. I want an easy, practical match.

“I should best be off, then,” Sebastian said, bringing the mood back up as he clapped his hands together and stood up. “Give those documents a read and let me know what you decide, Thomas. I await your orders, as always.”

He shook Marcus’s hand and departed, leaving Thomas alone with his cousin, who was watching him with a carefully neutral expression.

“What is it?” Thomas snapped, already knowing what his cousin was going to say.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Marcus said, his slow, serious voice just a little louder than usual, “but I do not think Sebastian is the best man to manage your investments. An investment manager should be sober and careful, not reckless.”

“Sebastian isn’t reckless,” Thomas corrected. “He’s simply risk-taking. And it’s a good balance for me.”

“If you say so,” Marcus said, but he looked unconvinced.

“What harm could he really do?” Thomas pointed out. “He would never make a decision without getting my approval first. He is my oldest and closest friend apart from you, and I trust him completely.”

“You’re right,” Marcus relented, but his expression remained sceptical. “There is just something … off … about him if you ask my opinion.”

“That’s because he is warm and friendly,” Thomas said. “And you do not understand how a person can be that way.”

“And you can?” A small smile quirked up Marcus’s mouth. “For the last five years, you have become less and less like your friend. More and more untrusting of outsiders.”

“Well, you can thank Maria for that.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I think it’s important to maintain a certain level of mistrust in a business such as ours.”

Thomas considered this. He knew Marcus had a point, but he also knew that without Sebastian’s warmth, he was in danger of becoming too aloof. Sebastian kept him grounded and connected to the man he had once been–the romantic, hopeful idealist.

“I wonder what Miss Prescott will make of my ‘mistrustfulness’,” he mused after a moment. “Sometimes, I think she would prefer a man who was more like Sebastian. Someone charming, like her.”

“Miss Prescott would see through a charlatan like Sebastian,” Marcus said dismissively. When Thomas gave him a scolding look, he backtracked slightly. “I just mean that her father is a smart and generous man, and I think she is as well. She has always seemed kind when I met her. She will make you a good wife, I believe.”

“I hope so.” Thomas sighed and shifted in his chair, suddenly restless. “But of course, my courtship of Miss Prescott, like the marriage, is a business arrangement. There is no love between us.”

“As was your design,” his cousin pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “You did not want a repeat of what happened with Maria.”

“I know,” Thomas said quickly. “It is for the best. Still, it is hard not to remember what it was like the first time I was planning a wedding. Back then, I was filled with such certainty for the future, such hope and joy. And, of course, I was deeply in love with my fiancée, or at least I thought I was, and my father was alive …”

Thomas swallowed, unable to continue speaking any further. His father’s death was still a subject he couldn’t broach, not least because of how complicated his grief had been made by the discovery of his father’s mismanagement of the estate. All of it had been deeply confusing, and he hadn’t spoken about his feelings on the subject with either Marcus or Sebastian.

“I know that he would be proud of you, were he here today,” Marcus said after a moment, his usually flat voice softer than usual.

“He liked Maria immensely,” Thomas said, glancing at his cousin.

Marcus pressed his lips together. “And he was also heartbroken by her betrayal. I truly believe that if he could see you now, choosing a good, practical marriage, he would believe you were making the right choice.”

“I hope so.” But even as Thomas said the words, the memory he’d been reliving earlier flashed again in front of his eyes. The Ashbourne legacy isn’t just about ships and commerce, Thomas. It’s about family, about carrying our legacy forward through generations.

The late Earl of Ashdene had loved his wife very dearly, and Thomas knew, in his heart of hearts, that love was one of the family values that he hoped to pass down.