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Prologue
Essington Manor, Kent, England, 1797
The organ blared a mournful tune as the two coffins were carried down the aisle of the chapel. The sound of subdued sobbing filled the air as well. Reginald Oakley, the Earl of Weaver, watched stony-faced as the coffins went by. His heart felt as tight as a drum. He had not shed a single tear yet.
The mourners followed the coffins in single, silent file. Reginald watched a tall, willowy lady dressed entirely in black silk shuffle past. His daughter-in-law, Henrietta. Always a pale woman, her face was the shade of ivory now, her eyes red-rimmed from weeping. Henrietta clutched a white lace handkerchief, pressing it against her eyes, her face a rictus of sorrow.
Reginald’s heart constricted again. Two coffins, one long, one small. The first contained the last earthly remains of his last son, Charles. The heir to the Weaver Earldom and estate was gone, carried away quickly, by a strain of influenza that had swept through the countryside. A tragedy. Charles had only been two and thirty. Still such a young man, with so much left to do.
But the second coffin—the smaller one—was almost more heartbreaking to witness, if that was indeed possible. For it contained Reginald’s only grandson, William. Only seven years old and he had been carried away by the same sudden illness that felled his father. Now, father and son were making their last journey to the small graveyard at the top of the hill, where they would be laid to eternal rest side by side in the family plot. Beside each other in death as they had been in life.
Reginald joined the procession. He could barely place one foot in front of the other. He had never felt so wretched and devastated in his life, and he had suffered much before. The deaths of his two elder sons, when they had just been lads, in a carriage accident. The loss of his beloved wife, Isabel, only two years ago. Reginald was used to sorrow and grief. But seeing these two coffins was too much even for a stoic, strong man like him.
It was too much to bear. Far too much.
In the graveyard overlooking Essington Manor, his ancestral home, he watched as the two coffins were lowered into the ground. The vicar was intoning a prayer. Suddenly, his daughter-in-law swayed, looking like she was about to collapse. Looking like she might want to leap into the grave to join her husband and son.
Quick as a flash, Reginald was by her side, his arm around her. Henrietta clung to him, in a desperate way, burying her face into his chest and sobbing piteously.
“I cannot go on,” she moaned softly. “It is too much.”
Reginald’s heart twisted. “You must go on, Hetty,” he whispered. “You must. For the small girl who is lying in the bed yonder.” He looked up, gazing at Essington Manor as he spoke, thinking of that girl.
Henrietta took a deep, shuddering breath. “I know. I shall go to her as soon as I have said farewell to her father and brother.” Her face contorted. “She is the only thing I have to live for now. If she… if she…”
“Hush,” whispered Reginald, feeling sick at the thought. “She is a strong girl. She will pull through. God would not be so cruel.”
Henrietta shuddered again, not saying anything. The prayers ended. Charles and William were in their graves. The mourners each picked up a clod of earth, throwing it into the grave, before walking slowly back down the hill.
Reginald supported his daughter-in-law as they slowly walked to the grave, staring down. Then Henrietta bent down, picking up some earth, before tossing it into the grave.
“Farewell, my loves,” she whispered. “Until we meet again.”
Reginald stared into the grave for a moment, before turning and walking away, one arm around his daughter-in-law. They got into the carriage and then they were away. He closed his eyes, offering up a silent, desperate prayer, that the small girl in the bed at home fighting for her life would survive. That she would not join her father and twin brother in that grave. God could not be so cruel, could He?
For she was all there was left now. The last remains of his family. His heirs were all gone. As a girl, she could never inherit the title or estate, but Essington Manor and the great Weaver lineage still flowed in her blood just the same. If she did live, she would someday marry and live elsewhere, and this estate would perhaps be sold off, passed into the hands of strangers. The earldom would die with him.
If only she had been born a boy. If only.
His heart constricted. Fate had been cruel to him. But he loved his granddaughter and he would do everything he could to ensure she had the best life possible. She could not save the earldom, but she was all he had left, as well. The only thing he had to live for.
If she lived. As the carriage turned down the long, circular driveway to the front of Essington Manor, Reginald sent up a silent, desperate prayer for the girl, lying burning and shivering in her small bed upstairs. The last of the line. Forever.
And finally, Reginald felt the tears slide down his face.
Chapter One
Santander, northern Spain, 12 years later
“Oh, Capitana!” The woman shuddered with delight. Her dark eyes gleamed in the half light of the cabin. “Oh, what you do to me!”
Alexander Fletcher grinned lazily at the raven-haired beauty lying beneath him on his small bed. He knew that her first name was Rosa, but he did not know much else about her at all. Rosa did not speak very much English, but Alexander had never let that stand in his way where women were concerned.
He was just about to get to know Rosa a whole lot better, when there was a sudden rap at the cabin door.
“Captain!” The voice of his first mate, Ed, reached him through the thin wood. “We have trouble!”
Alexander cursed loudly. “For the love of God, man! I am busy! What is it?”
“It’s Needham, Captain,” came the disembodied voice. “He’s caused an incident. Again. We need help.”
Alexander closed his eyes in frustration. But there was nothing he could do about it. He was the captain of the Mary Elizabeth, a trading ship, and he had to deal with all emergencies. They were just about to set sail back to England, loading the last of their cargo, after all. It had probably been wishful thinking to assume he might have one last carnal encounter with the delectable Rosa before they set sail.
“Sorry,” he whispered, giving her a quick peck on the check, before jumping off the bed and hurrying into his clothes. “It has been divertido, Rosa. I might see you again when I am next in port.”
The woman grinned, her white teeth shining in the darkness, before gathering her own strewn clothing off the floor. “Muy buena, Capitana,” she purred. “You are generous. In all ways.”
Alexander grinned back, before rushing out the door. He knew Rosa would be gone before he returned. She was a local girl and knew the score. She was used to the trading ships coming in and out of the port of Santander, after all. She was not a whore—Alexander prided himself on only sleeping with women who wanted him as well—but she knew that when he sailed away, he might never return. Which was just the way he liked it. They had lots of fun together over the past week but when it was over, it was over.
The life of a sailor, he thought ruefully. A girl in every port.
But when he hit the deck, rushing down the plank onto the docks where the barrels and boxes were being loaded onto his ship, all thoughts of the delectable Rosa flew from his mind. Ed had been right to interrupt him. There was a fracas.
A small, wiry man with bright red hair and shifty eyes was in the centre of it. Alexander groaned aloud. Needham. The man had been causing trouble since they had set sail from England, starting fights with the other men, whining, and complaining. He was also lazy and indolent. Alexander had already decided that he was not going to keep him on and regretted that he had given him a chance at all.
Now, Needham was surrounded by a group of local men all advancing towards him menacingly. What had the fool done this time?
He rushed forward, stepping in between the small man and his nearest assailant, who was head and shoulders taller than Needham and built like a rock.
Alexander put a hand on the burly man’s chest. “What is it? What has he done?”
The burly man spat at his feet. “He touch my woman! He disrespect her! I will kill him!” He glowered at Needham, who was cowering behind Alexander, his eyes full of fear.
Alexander swivelled around to the small man. “Is this true? Did you touch her?”
Needham looked defiant. “She is a whore! They are all whores!”
Alexander swore underneath his breath. “You fool! Not all local women are whores for the taking! If you had any brains in that small head of yours at all, you would understand that.” He turned back to the burly man. “I am sorry for him. He did not understand. He meant no harm. A small reward if we forget it and keep loading the ship?”
“Big reward,” growled the burly man. “Double the price.”
Alexander’s mouth tightened. “No. A bonus. One barrel of the rum for you and your men. Deal?”
The burly man wavered. Alexander held his breath. If the man insisted, he would make little profit from this trip, and he simply was not prepared for all his hard work to amount to nothing because of that spineless, leering, red-haired ferret cowering behind him. Needham was a coward as well as a bore. He should just let him get his just desserts, but he needed the man to keep loading the cargo. They were short on men as it was.
“Two barrels,” said the burly man, his dark eyes gleaming.
Alexander swore again. “Done. This is over.” He raised his voice, addressing the crowd, “Keep loading the ship. We sail on schedule.”
There was a mutter from the crowd, but to Alexander’s intense relief, they all started to disperse, going about their business again. Alexander turned to Needham, grabbing him by the ear, dragging him towards the ship.
When they were on board, he stopped, letting the man go. Needham shook himself like a dog. Now that the incident was over, his usual arrogance was reasserting itself, and he stared at his captain defiantly.
“Do you know what you have cost me?” asked Alexander, in a deceptively quiet voice. “Two barrels of rum that would have fetched a good price in England.”
Needham raised his chin. “The woman was asking for it,” he leered. “Begging for it…”
Alexander suddenly saw red. Before he could stop himself, he had raised his fist, slamming it into the jaw of the man. Needham reeled back, cursing aloud, before hitting the deck.
Alexander walked over to the man, staring down at him.
“You need to learn to ask before you take,” he said, in a low, scornful voice. “I do not like men like you. Not one little bit.”
The crew had stopped work, staring at them. Alexander looked up. “Throw him off the side of the ship. We sail without him.”
“No, Captain!” cried the man, staring up at him with wild eyes. “What will I do? How will I get home?”
“Book a passage on the next ship to leave port,” growled Alexander. “I will make sure you have your wages. But you shall not sail on my ship.”
Alexander walked off. He grinned, hearing the loud splash as Needham landed in the water. Good riddance. The man was a low life. He especially did not like men who treated women like that, as if they were just objects, not people at all. Alexander might have his own private policy to love and leave women, but he always treated them well and never took liberties without asking.
Needham deserved what he got, and he was lucky he had not been beaten to a pulp by those local men. At least he had saved the man from that.
But his sudden anger had cost Alexander. Needham was gone. The worthless man had cost him two barrels of rum and would no longer be working. Still, Alexander felt good about the whole thing. What he regretted the most was that the incident had lost him his last encounter with the beautiful Rosa.
He sighed, shrugging his shoulders, in a philosophical way. It was time to set sail and leave Spain- and Rosa – behind. That was just life on the sea and he would have it no other way. England, here they come. It was time to return home – for a little while, at least.
They were just about to haul up the plank, ready to set sail, when a male figure dressed in black pushed through the crowd on the dock, rushing towards the ship.
“Wait!” cried the man in black, waving a hand in the air, which clutched a white sheet of paper with a red wax seal. “I have a letter for Captain Fletcher!”
Alexander gazed at the man curiously, before walking down the plank to him. He was a small, neat man, wearing a galleon hat and round spectacles.
“I am Captain Fletcher,” he said slowly. “Who are you?”
The man bowed. “Ignatius Bowen, at your service, Captain. I am an emissary for Merrymen’s Solicitors of London. I handle their affairs in Spain, as well as several other solicitors in England.” He drew a deep breath. “This letter has just arrived, addressed to you. You are most definitely Captain Alexander Fletcher of the Mary Elizabeth?”
Alexander stared at him. “I have already said so,” he said, in a dry voice, taking the letter. “Thank you, Mr Bowen.”
The man nodded before walking away. Alexander tucked the letter into his jacket pocket. He would look at it later. Now it was time to set sail. His blood was zinging with impatience. There had already been too many delays as it was.
It was not until they were safely sailing through the waters of the Bay of Bismarck that he remembered the letter in his pocket. He made sure all was in order before entering his cabin, taking out the letter and breaking the seal. The letter was dated two weeks prior.
Captain Fletcher,
I am writing on behalf of my client, His Lordship Reginald Oakley, the Earl of Weaver, who wishes to arrange a time to meet with you most urgently upon your return to England.
As we are unaware of when you will return to England’s shores, I took the liberty of writing to you at the last port your ship was docked at in Spain and trust that you receive it.
On your return to England, could you make your way to our offices on Bond Street for further instructions in the matter at your earliest convenience.
I remain, your humble servant,
Oswald Merryman
Merryman Solicitors
London
Alexander frowned, staring at the letter. This was odd. Very odd indeed. The Earl of Weaver, a man he had never met in his life, wanted to see him urgently. He had never even heard of this earl, whoever he was. And why did an earl have urgent business with him, anyway?
He folded the letter, placing it on his desk, before sitting down. His mind was whirring. Earls were very high up in society—they were practically royalty. Alexander had never mingled in such high circles. He knew nothing about the ton and their exclusive world. He most certainly had no idea why any noble would need to speak to him, or even knew of his existence.
He opened the letter again. Perhaps this Earl of Weaver wanted to do business with him. He owned three successful trading ships that sailed all over the world.
He tossed the letter aside. He might make his way to Merryman Solicitors on Bond Street if he had the chance.
Alexander sighed, standing up, forgetting about the letter entirely. He had a ship to sail, after all.
“An Earl’s Path to Passion” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!
The fiery Lady Olivia Oakley is the only one left to protect her family’s heritage, after losing almost all of her family to a terrible illness. When the only home she has ever known, the ancestral seat of Essington Manor, is to be sold off to a seductive stranger, she’s ready to claim what is rightfully hers. With Olivia’s rivalry transforming into burning lust upon their encounter, it is clear that it is too late to resist the overwhelming fire between them. What kind of sacrifices will she have to make to keep her family’s Earldom?
All she ever wanted was to find a true love match, but little did she know she would find herself bursting with primal desires…
Captain Alexander Fletcher loves his life on the sea and has never wished for another, until a mysterious letter arrives from the Earl of Weaver. When he hears of the Earl’s tragic past and his need for an heir, Alexander accepts. Yet, when he discovers that his future rests upon marrying the gentleman’s granddaughter, he baulks, despite the tantalising Olivia awakening thrilling sensations in him. While no woman has ever hoped to capture his heart, could the Earl’s ravishing granddaughter be the one who will irreversibly seduce him?
If only Olivia was not so enthralling to make him long for her sinful touch…
As Olivia and Alexander fight their fierce attraction, they realise that the devil’s bargain may just turn out to be a match made in heaven. Still, they refuse to surrender to their feelings, even if their bodies shiver in each other’s presence. Will the arrogant captain and the spoiled lady manage to turn a business deal into love, and let their passion conquer them? Or will they be separated by dark storms and empty promises once and for all?
“An Earl’s Path to Passion” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.
OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Lust and Longing of the Ton", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hello there, my dear readers. I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek! I will be waiting for your comments. Thank you! 🙂
Very intriguing beginning. Look forward to reading this story.
Thank you, I hope you like the rest of it!
What a beginning!
Alexander and Olivia are going to be a logger heads.
Looking forward to this book.
Thank you, I really hope you enjoy the rest of it!
extended epilogue for this story, how do I find it please?
Here it is my dear, tap on this link!