The Legend of the Earl_Heirs of High Society Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  For You Personally

  Also By Eleanor Meyers

  Prologue

  .

  1

  Chapter One

  2

  Chapter Two

  3

  Chapter Three

  4

  Chapter Four

  5

  Chapter Five

  6

  Chapter Six

  7

  Chapter Seven

  8

  Chapter Eight

  9

  Chapter Nine

  10

  Chapter Ten

  11

  Chapter Eleven

  12

  Chapter Twelve

  13

  Chapter Thirteen

  14

  Chapter Fourteen

  15

  Chapter Fifteen

  16

  Chapter Sixteen

  17

  Chapter Seventeen

  18

  Chapter Eighteen

  19

  Chapter Nineteen

  20

  Chapter Twenty

  21

  Chapter Twenty-one

  22

  Chapter Twenty-two

  23

  The Legend of The Earl

  Heirs of High Society

  Eleanor Meyers

  Sherman Brooks Publishers

  A Regency Romance Book

  Contents

  Copyright

  For You Personally

  Also By Eleanor Meyers

  Prologue

  .

  1

  Chapter One

  .

  2

  Chapter Two

  .

  3

  Chapter Three

  .

  4

  Chapter Four

  .

  5

  Chapter Five

  .

  6

  Chapter Six

  .

  7

  Chapter Seven

  .

  8

  Chapter Eight

  .

  9

  Chapter Nine

  .

  10

  Chapter Ten

  .

  11

  Chapter Eleven

  .

  12

  Chapter Twelve

  .

  13

  Chapter Thirteen

  .

  14

  Chapter Fourteen

  .

  15

  Chapter Fifteen

  .

  16

  Chapter Sixteen

  .

  17

  Chapter Seventeen

  .

  18

  Chapter Eighteen

  .

  19

  Chapter Nineteen

  .

  20

  Chapter Twenty

  .

  21

  Chapter Twenty-one

  .

  22

  Chapter Twenty-two

  .

  23

  Chapter Twenty-three

  .

  24

  Chapter Twenty-four

  .

  25

  Chapter Twenty-five

  .

  26

  Chapter Twenty-six

  .

  27

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  .

  28

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  .

  29

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  .

  30

  Chapter Thirty

  .

  31

  Chapter Thirty-one

  .

  32

  Chapter Thirty-two

  .

  33

  Chapter Thirty-three

  .

  Epilogue

  .

  Preview of Next Book

  ORDER OF BOOKS . Also By

  For You Personally

  Publishers Notes

  Copyright © 2018 by

  Eleanor Meyers

  All Rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  * * * * *

  * * *

  DEDICATION

  * * *

  This book is specially dedicated to YOU- the reader!

  Authors wouldn't be anywhere without readers like you, so your support REALLY means a lot to me!

  As a Regency Romance writer, my desire is to touch my readers through my stories by intertwining love and emotions in its most humane way.

  Sign up for Eleanor Meyers’s New Releases mailing list and you will be automatically get notified as soon as her future series is available.

  Click the Find Out More link below to get started:

  LINK: Find Out More

  * * *

  ALSO BY ELEANOR MEYERS

  * * *

  - WARDINGTON PARK SERIES -

  Series Part 01 : Raptures of Royalty

  Book 1 - To Love A Lord of London

  Book 2 - The Regards of A Rogue

  Series Part 02 : Madness in Mayfair

  Book 3 - Gaining The Gentleman

  Book 4 - The Skills of A Scoundrel

  Book 5 - A Gentleman’s Game

  Series Part 03 : The Elkins Brothers

  Book 6 - The Gentleman’s Game of Love

  Book 7 - The Gentleman’s Law on Love

  Series Part 04 : Tots of The Ton

  Book 8 - How To Make A Marquess

  Book 9 - How To Design A Duke

  Book 10 - How To Keep A Knight

  Series Part 05 : The Abbey Brothers

  Book 11 - Lady Lures The Earl

  Book 12 - Lady Lands The Lord

  Book 13 - Lady Likes The Lord

  Series Part 06 (Finale) : Order of the Second Sons

  Book 14 - The Son Of A Marquess

  Book 15 - The Son Of A Soldier

  Book 16 - The Son Of An Earl

  (finale book in the series) Book 17 - The New Marquess

  Find out more of my other historical romance series

  Click the link below to get started

  *** Amazon US ***

  * * *

  Got something to share?

  I would want to hear from you!

  So please do get in touch with me:

  https://www.facebook.com/eleanormeyersbooks

  [email protected]

  - HEIRS OF HIGH SOCIETY SERIES -

  Part Series 1 :

  The Beau Monde Brood

  The Legend of The Earl

  * * *

  PROLOGUE

  .

  .

  .

  * * *

  * * *

  .

  April 21, 1790

  London, England

  But, oh! What would our world be were there not a father to the fatherless? And how I have been blessed to be a mother to the motherless. Each child who comes into my home is a gift from God. I thank Him every day for the chance to bring light into their world and lead them in a path that will hopefully make them builders of their communities.

  But truly, my heart aches for them, for it seems that my time and my love are not enough to take away their pain. Each passing face leaves an everlasting impression on my heart, and today a new face arrived.

  With this being the twenty-first of April, I have named the orphan girl after Saint Alexandra, the wife of
the Roman Emperor Diocletian, who stood on her faith and died because of it. A woman who left this world with dignity.

  That is what I saw in sweet Alexandra as I held her today—dignity. Her clear gray eyes shined like the purest diamonds and her beautiful black curls glittered like obsidian stone.

  She looks just like her father, the Viscount of Wint. How unfortunate for them both that they’ll never know each other.

  Alexandra’s mother left her with little other than a clean blanket. She had nothing else to give and left to resume her duties as a maid in a great house.

  But I will give Alexandra something.

  I will give her my love and pray that if she learns but one thing from me, it will be how to love.

  Without reason.

  Without condition.

  Without end.

  Sweet Alexandra, grow to love.

  — From the Diary of Mary Elizabeth Best

  * * *

  1

  CHAPTER

  ONE

  .

  .

  .

  * * *

  * * *

  .

  May 1815

  London, England

  Alexandra Smith looked at the men and women who sat around her, keeping her gaze low so as to not draw attention. She sat stiffly in her chair and listened to the countess, who’d been asked to make a speech about a woman she'd likely never met.

  There was much weeping from the ton. The very best of Society had come out in grand numbers, the likes of which Alex had never seen.

  It was a rare day of clear skies, and the air was warm with the smell of heavy perfumes and grass.

  Everyone from the king and princes to the lowest of the lower class were present, the latter, of course, standing far back by the trees. Only the wealthy and titled sat in the chairs that faced the stage, with less than twenty people like Alex, who was from the lowest order of the world, taking the final row.

  A thought came to mind.

  “She would have loathed this,” Alex whispered.

  Nash, who was sitting on her left, grunted, jousting her slightly when he did so. Nash had a few grunts. Alex knew this one meant she should be silent, but she simply could not.

  They were sitting close—Nash was practically sitting on her. She was sharing her space with him because he’d be bumping the woman on his other side if she hadn't.

  Nash was a big man, brutishly built like a Viking. Muscular, tall, fit, and needing more space than the common gentleman, thus she gave up some of hers.

  But if she was going to share her chair, she would also share her mind.

  “I feel as though they made a committee, because you know how much they love their committees, and asked themselves what the thing Mary Elizabeth Best would have loathed more than anything in the world was and then decided,” she snapped her fingers, “…that’s what we’ll do.”

  “Be silent,” Nash hissed without looking at her.

  “Why?” Alex looked up and over at his stony face. “It’s not as if anyone up front can hear me from the farthest row in the park. I mean, really, I only knew Ms. Best for the first five years of my life, no one in the entire first row ever even met her, much less cared about her.”

  But it was the way of London. Ms. Best had done something worth recognizing, and the Anglican Church had decided to acknowledge it. The Beau Monde were simply there to make a show out of being good followers of the faith.

  If only the world knew the truth.

  Rose, who was sitting on Alex’s right, reached out and grabbed Alex’s hand, drawing her attention. “These people supported Ms. Best’s homes.”

  “No,” Alex whispered. “These men and women are the reason the homes exist.”

  Rose closed her mouth and looked away because she knew Alex was right.

  Another woman in the next row turned around to glare at her. Alex simply stared until the woman turned back around. Alex turned back to the front just as another person went to the podium, a woman dressed in enough red silk to feed an entire schoolroom in one of Mary Best’s homes. She was a duchess. Alex fought not to roll her eyes.

  She turned to Nash. “Why are we here? We should have our own celebration. We should all go down to the main house and have dinner tonight. What say you?”

  “I like that idea,” Rose whispered on her right.

  Nash moved swiftly, turning and leaning toward them both. His blue eyes settled on Rose first. “Do not help her, Rose.”

  Rose leaned away, her shoulders hunched after being properly chastened.

  Then Nash’s eyes turned to Alex, hard. “We’re here because England has decided to honor a very special woman who helped the poor, took in the needy, and on one special occasion saved the king’s life. This is her commemoration. We are fortunate to have been given seats at all, considering we’re a pack of orphans.”

  Alex opened her mouth to speak, but at seeing the flicker of heat in Nash’s gaze she shut her mouth once more.

  Nash went on, “You’re deflecting your feelings, Alex. You’re not upset that there are so many people here that didn’t know Ms. Best, and you’re not angry that they placed us in the last row.”

  Actually, Alex was quite vexed about the former.

  Nash’s expression changed as though he could read her mind. In a blink, Alex corrected her own expression so that it was blank.

  Nash continued, “You’re upset because Ms. Best is gone, and her commemoration reminds you of that, but she’s been gone for twenty years, Alex. Let it be.” Then he turned away.

  Alex said quickly. “Well, I still say we should get the Smiths back together and have dinner.”

  “Me, too,” Rose whispered with a giggle.

  Nash shook his head. “If I agree, will you be silent?”

  “Yes.” Alex smiled. “And you have to get Chris to come as well.”

  Nash moved his mouth in thought then nodded. “If he is here, I will ask. Now be silent.”

  Alex clung to her silence through the rest of the commemoration and admitted that it was, indeed, a beautiful ceremony.

  * * *

  “No, we can’t start yet. We have to wait,” Alex said for the third time as she looked around at the assembled group. So far, only Rose, Alicia Best, Mary Francis Best, and Nash had appeared, but one seat was empty.

  The dining room was large and shared with the kitchen to accommodate the many hungry and youthful mouths that were fed meals here. Alex recalled how dark the walls had once been. In recent years, the walls had been painted a light color, and art from the children took up much of the wall space. There was nothing grand about Best Home, yet Alex couldn’t recall a place where she’d ever felt warmer and more at home.

  There were three Best Homes in the city. The current home, which was the one Alex had grown up in, was in Paddington on the edge of Hyde Park, and the closest home to Mayfair. Alex lived in the same area, visiting the orphanage every so often and walking to and from the shop on Bond Street where she worked.

  The table had been set beautifully, but it was nowhere near the style that the wealthy were used to. The plates and cups were clean but not porcelain or glass. Still, the metal shined brilliantly with the glow of the candles that had been scattered about.

  “Alex.” Mary Francis lifted her chin, though it shook slightly from age. “You will not make me wait another second for those boys. I only agreed to come because I heard you were cooking.” Her brown eyes settled on Alex sternly. “I have starved long enough in my lifetime.”

  Alex smiled. “And exactly how old are you again, Ms. Best?”

  The woman’s mouth shut tightly, and everyone around the table began to laugh. It was a game everyone played with Mary Francis. It had been her little sister, Mary Elizabeth, who’d been commemorated that morning, but no one knew exactly how many years apart the women actually were.

  Alicia Best grinned. “Come now, Alex. Do let us eat. The food smells divine.” Alicia’s eyes were blue, unlike her grea
t-aunt’s. Alicia was Mary Elizabeth’s and Mary Francis’ grand-niece and currently saw to the day-to-day business of Best Homes.

  Nash reached for the tray cover, and Alex slapped his hand before turning to meet his eyes. “Did you tell them to come?”

  “I did,” he said tightly, “but no one can force them to come.”