The Beauty and the Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Read online

  The Beauty and the Earl

  A Historical Regency Romance Novel

  Hanna Hamilton

  Edited by

  Robin Spencer

  Contents

  A Thank You Gift

  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

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  A Duke in Her Bonnet

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Also by Hanna Hamilton

  About the Author

  A Thank You Gift

  Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.

  As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called A True Lady. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.

  Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.

  Hanna Hamilton

  About the Book

  She was magic for his soul and light for his senses...

  Cornelia Hill was born different.

  Deemed cursed by her parents, she was raised among a band of traveling showfolk. Having spent all her days as an exhibit for people to marvel at, a new development throws her life in disarray: she has but a single night until she is sold to a wealthy stranger.

  Archibald Serton, newly appointed Earl of Rochester, is a man with a title that he doesn’t want. In his life of few joys and even fewer acquaintances, the appearance of a peculiar woman seeking asylum fills him with newfound will to live.

  But whoever is after Cornelia is not far behind and in his race to save her from a terrible fate, Archibald must face reality. Not only is Cornelia not who they all think she is, but like the proverbial snake in the bosom, he’s been harboring a traitor all along…

  Chapter 1

  “Take a look at that, Archie.”

  Archibald Serton, the Earl of Rochester, glanced in the direction his friend indicated. As they ambled amid the crowds of visitors to the Baron Barrett’s Bizarre Arcana, there was much to see and point at. They had passed the dancing bear, the lion leaping through flaming hoops, witnessed a huge man with more muscles than a breeding bull lift two men, one in each hand, and a juggler wearing the colorful costume of a court jester tossing a multitude of balls through the air over his head.

  “What are you looking at?” he asked, seeing little save human bodies milling about.

  “A girl,” Richard replied. “All white. It looks like she is on display like a statue.”

  Archie eyed his friend sidelong. “A girl dressed in white? That’s not very unusual.”

  Richard Sharp, the Earl of Whitstone, put his hand against his chest and sighed dramatically. “Clear the cotton from your ears, old chap. I said she is all white. As in skin and hair as well as dress. Come on, let’s have a look.”

  Following his companion, Archie wended his way among the numerous folks who had come to witness the wild animals performing tricks, the sword swallower – who set his sword on fire before swallowing it – as well as the acrobats swinging on the tight ropes high above them. As the Bizarre Arcana had stopped at a village on his own estates for a week to entertain people, he had come at the urging of Richard.

  As he passed among the milling, laughing, talking people, Archie nodded to his butler, Noah Sanders, and flustered his cook by grinning at him. Richard caught him at it, and asked, “Who are you beaming at?”

  “My cook.”

  Richard paused to gaze down his nose, although Archie stood at an even height with him. “You let your servants come here?”

  “Why ever not?” Archie continued on in the direction Richard had been headed. “They work hard and deserve a break now and again.”

  He liked the people he employed, and had no compunction at all about permitting them a little free time to enjoy themselves at this rare opportunity. Richard dodged a servant’s child with an expression of mild disgust. “You should learn to behave like an Earl, old chap.”

  Archie eyed him sidelong. “You mean stuffy? Like you?”

  “Of course. Stuffy is as stuffy does.”

  Chuckling, Archie followed Richard, a man of his own age of six and twenty, who had rich blond hair and blue eyes that tended to cut one to the quick. Even now, people parted for him after one glance at his face, while Archie himself never bothered to throw his considerable social weight around. He knew he never looked the part of an aristocrat, with his own dark red-brown hair kept in a ponytail, and his brown eyes that appeared almost sleepy to people who didn’t know him well.

  “See? A pure white woman.”

  Hauled up short by the sight of the woman in the glass case, Archie stared in awe. Richard was not wrong. She owned skin of the palest white, with wide eyes of a violet hue. Her long lustrous hair hung past her waist and cascaded over her full bosom. As if her coloring were not unusual enough, Archie felt his breath leave his lungs when he recognized her incredible, simple beauty.

  The woman gazed out over their heads as though they were not there and staring at her with open mouths. No doubt she is so used to being gaped at, she never notices it anymore. “She is incredible, isn’t she?” Richard exclaimed as though the woman inside the case couldn’t hear him. “A beautiful specimen.”

  Archie glanced at his friend, slightly annoyed at how callously Richard spoke of her. As though she were an exotic mushroom. “Specimen?”

  “Of course. A human specimen. Such a rare occurrence, wouldn’t you say? To be born with such a pure color. Quite unique.”

  Although he felt sure the woman was quite used to being talked about as though she weren’t there, Archie felt his annoyance with Richard rise into near anger. “You do realize she is right there and listening, do you not?”

  Richard glanced at him with surprise. “I am paying her a compliment, old chap. She is not offended.”

  How can you tell? She stares out of that case with no expression; she hasn’t even glanced at us. But Archie refused to say that aloud. He liked Richard of Whitstone, they’d been friends for years, and certainly didn’t relish a public quarrel with him. Especially when he’d wind up with Richard staring down his nose at him and be forced to listen to his slightly condescending speech about the differences between the high born and the low born.

  His anger didn’t deflate as he gazed at the woman. “No person should be put on display like this,” he grumbled. “She’s not an animal, for God’s sake.”

  Unbelievably, the woman’s expressionless violet eyes flicked to him, and met his own. Then she glanced away, up and over his head as though he weren’t there. Yet, Archie knew in that moment, that brief second when their eyes met and clasped almost physically, they shared something. Wh
at it was, he didn’t know. There had been a connection that flared between them, a sensation that he could only describe as a brief electrical charge, as though lightning flashed nearby and made the hairs on his arms stand on end.

  “This is her job, Archie,” Richard explained as though to a child. “She is paid to stand there and let us gawk, just as it is your job to manage your estates, and mine, to, well, be me.”

  Archie had had enough. He turned away, still angered. “It’s still wrong no matter how you paint it, Richard. I don’t have to like it, even if you do.”

  Though he was fond of Richard, enjoyed his company and his offhand sense of humor, there were aspects of Richard’s personality that grated on him. One was Richard’s overblown sense of superiority over others; his belief that the lower classes were little more than the mud he scraped off his boots.

  “Are you angry, dear boy?”

  Richard followed him as Archie wended his way through the happy, chattering people of the lower classes, hoping that his friend stepped in some creature’s deposit, just so he could enjoy his discomfiture. That’s really grown up, Archie. Despite knowing how immature that wish might be, Archie still grinned inwardly at the potential sight.

  “No, I’m not angry,” Archie replied, glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll leave that to you when your servants all come work for me and leave you to dress yourself. Do you even know how to dress yourself?”

  “You’re angry and it’s my fault.” Richard sighed. “I never should have taken you to see that exquisite creature. Archie, old chap, you truly mustn’t take such things to heart. It will drive you quite mad in the end.”

  “Oh, I’m quite certain I am well on my way.”

  Archie, being the second son of the old Earl, and never thinking he’d be elevated to the position he had, tended to view everyone, both high and low social status, with equal respect. Had he the room for them, he would have adored seeing the expression on Richard’s face if his servants abandoned him to come work at the Rochester estates. He chuckled to himself. Grow up, boy.

  “Come now,” Richard said as they left the crowded tent and its wonders behind. “Don’t pout, old chap. It doesn’t become one of your station. Forget the girl, though I fear I will dream of her for many a night. Perhaps I will create my own menagerie of fascinating, beautiful creatures.”

  “Now who is mad?”

  “Surely not I. I am as sane as –”

  “The King?” Archie eyed him with humor. “Of course you are.”

  Richard waggled his finger at Archie as they ambled across the fallow field Archie permitted the owner of the Arcana to set his tents and wagons upon. Peasant folks, children in tow, strode across it to the great tent, and Archie knew they would spend their last farthings on sights they may never see again. “Archie, old chap, you cannot win a battle of wits with me. Are we still on for hunting next week?”

  “Think you can keep up?”

  They reached their saddled horses, each bridle held by a liveried footman, who bowed in unison as their masters approached. Taking his reins, Archie swung into his saddle with a grin. Richard mounted his own stocky chestnut, who danced under him, restless. “My beast will best yours on any field, Archie,” he replied. “I look forward to the chase.”

  “Good.” Archie swung his bay’s head around. “Don’t be late.”

  Nudging his horse into a swift canter, he rode across the field to the lane that ran amid the various fields that grew crops under the skillful hands of his tenants. As he rode, his mind went back to the pale girl in the glass case, and an odd feeling of regret filled him. Regret that his anger didn’t force him to smash the glass and get her out of there, regret she was forced to be in there in the first place, regret that he didn’t speak to her directly.

  “Next time, my lady,” he murmured. “Next time, I will speak to you.”

  Chapter 2

  When the last of the visitors to the Arcana were ushered out of the vast tent, Cornelia stepped down from her glass case at last. As usual, her feet were sore from standing on them all day long without a break, and her legs were stiff. Taking a moment to stretch the kinks from her body, she sighed with relief at being able to walk again.

  Peggy joined her in her stretching exercises. “How was your day in the case?” she asked.

  “Spent it wishing I could join you on the high ropes,” Cornelia replied, thrusting out her hips to relieve the tension in her back.

  “You know you cannot handle heights, dear.”

  “Right now, I would, if it meant being able to move.”

  “You have spent your entire life standing,” Peggy commented. “Your ankles and knees must be like iron.”

  “They sure do not feel that way. Please, let’s take a walk outside, Peg. I need fresh air.”

  “Is something on your mind?”

  Cornelia glanced at her friend with a smile. “Something strange happened today,” she admitted as they crossed through the tent’s entrance and into the dirt packed solid by the number of feet that trod upon it. “A nobleman got angry that I spend my life in a box being paid to be stared at.”

  “A what did who?”

  Laughing in her throat, Cornelia gazed up at the bright stars overhead. “A nobleman did not like that I am on display like a two-headed cow. I thought it strange – and wonderful.”

  “That is indeed strange,” Peggy commented as they walked, feeling the light wind of Northumberland caressing their skin with tender fingers. “The aristocrats usually think we low born fools are two-headed cows. I’m guessing he spoke to you?”

  “No. To his friend. But can you imagine, Peg?” Cornelia asked, her tone eager. “Someone, for the first time ever, thought it was wrong for me to be gaped at. I even looked at him, and he looked at me as though I were – a person.”

  “Truth be told, dear, it is wrong. At least people gape at me for what I’m doing, walking the tight rope. I’m an acrobat. Not because of what I look like. Everyone else here performs, even the animals. But you, you are so unique, dear, old Barrett rakes in the coins just for people to stare at you.”

  “I have been doing this for so long, I hardly notice anymore. Except when my feet ache.”

  Reaching the end of the field, Cornelia stared into the dark distance. “Will I ever marry, Peg?” she asked softly. “Will any man ever love me?”

  Her best friend hesitated, and Cornelia had no illusions about what Peggy was thinking. “Cornelia,” Peggy began, her voice strained. “You have the sweetest nature and the purest heart of anyone I know. You have to realize you are so different from everyone else, so unique, that you frighten folks. They believe you to not be truly human.”

  “I guess that was a bad question to ask,” Cornelia admitted, staring up at the stars. “Forgive me for asking it. It’s just that when the man spoke as he did, he made me think that perhaps others might share his views. And that someday, I might be seen for a nice woman, and not a freak.”

  “You are not a freak, Cornelia,” Peggy snapped. “Never believe that you are. You are a precious gift from God, and as pure in your heart as the white stag of legend. Maybe someday you will find a man to take you from all this, and marry you, and love you all the days of your life.”

  Cornelia smiled though her throat had closed off her breath. “But it’s still a dream. A fantasy. That is not for me, and we both know it.”

  “Cornelia –”

  “Stop, Peg. I brought this on myself by asking the truth from you, and you gave it. Let’s just be happy for a while on this beautiful night.”

  They walked on together for only a short time, chatting lightly on ordinary matters, sharing a friendship that began as children, when they observed a dark shadow, backlit from the lamps in the Arcana, hurrying toward them. Cornelia didn’t need to see his face to recognize the hunch-backed form of Barrett’s favorite toady, Mortimer.

  He bowed to them in an oily manner that never failed to make Cornelia’s skin crawl. “The boss wishes t
o see you, Corny,” he said, his tone almost as slimy as the look he sent her.

  “Thank you, Morty,” she replied, her tone cool.

  Mortimer scowled. He hated being called Morty as much as she hated being called Corny. He had worked for Barrett since she had arrived at the small circus as a child, an orphan with no family. He had been old then, and never seemed to age a day since. Even her childish instincts had warned her that Mortimer was not a nice man, and never would be.