Chapter One
Those doubting that we find ourselves at the dawn of a new age should turn their gazes to the newest member of our most distinguished House of Lords. Whilst this writer acknowledges other members have, over the centuries, had intriguing and unexpected origins, one cannot deny that an Essex smith is rather a novelty. The newly minted Earl of Gadmin, only recently plucked from his forge and informed of his illustrious heritage and duties thanks to a most clever special remainder, appeared undeniably overwhelmed at his introduction. However, this writer’s hope prevails that in time, such a common man will prove to be as industrious and hard-working as his prior profession implies. He will certainly need employ such talents to not only restore the title hitherto tarnished by its previous holders, including the last, the new Earl’s great-great-uncle and his passion for swine; however equally one would wager, to survive his first Season, and perhaps even convince one of our great Society’s misses to become a countess. This writer wishes him the very best of luck in these endeavours, and truly hopes that with time, he will prove to be, along with our illustrious Majesty herself, a beacon of a new age worthy of Gloriana.
Jack the Cat, Londoner’s Chronicle, January 1839
London, late April 1839
‘Don’t suppose you’ll marry me?’ Thorn grumbled, gesturing at the feminine form half ensconced in the hedges’ shadows across from the tiny, perfect,infinitesimallyannoying little…squarehe supposed he should call it, considering this bloody section of the gardens was about as large as a village, complete with its own little trickling fountain.
It was a rhetorical sort of rant, or grumble, or whatever polite society might wish to call it—if in fact they indulged in such things—which was undeniably impolite, even for an uncouth country ruffian such as himself. Though truthfully, they might’ve been glad to witness some impropriety, someuncouthness, for it seemed that was the only reason he’d been invited to so many events these past three months. So he could entertain them all with his uncouth country ruffian ways, novelty that he was. Sadly, they’d found him mostly wanting in that regard, merely unrefined, not entirely in tune with allmoeurs, precedence,etiquetteand so on, rather than boorishly rough and laughable. The novelty of him had worn off, and along with it, the invitations. If there were others, who might want him for something other than amusement, he hadn’t had occasion to meet them yet. And so tonight was one of his last chances.
He’d had hope, for some idiotic reason. However, word had spread, it appeared, that though he had a title to bestow on some lucky woman in want of one, it was not a solid wager, nor in any manner a smart investment. He was not a solid wager nor a smart investment. His sole estate, in debt as much as one could be, and populated with pigs, was not worth the title of countess. Thorn couldn’t blame them really. Any of them, be they fathers, daughters, mothers, aunts, chaperones, brothers or so on. He couldn’t blame them for preferring any other option—any other title, some others as equally indebted—to one which came with aset of rustic disgrace rather than reputation or long bygone glory at the very least.
A smith and some pigs. No, I cannot blame them.
Though it did sadden him. It saddened him personally, that his inadequacy as an earl was so potent they could smell it twenty miles off, not that he blamed them nor resented them in any manner for knowing what he did in his own heart; he was not one of them, nor could ever be, no matter what the law said. It saddened him more generally, albeit still personally, for marriage to some portion of money was the only way for him to save his inheritance. His inheritance from a man he’d never known, but whom he somehow still felt a duty to. His great-great-uncle, of whom he’d never heard until some solicitor’s man came knocking on his door one grim winter’s eve. He recalled wondering even, if his father had known there was nobility in their ancestry, or if he too might’ve felt as stunned and disbelieving at such news. Still, no matter that he had not known the man whose title he now bore, whose inheritance was now his, Thorn felt a duty towards his ancestor, his benefactor some might even say, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to see the good fortune in his, well, change in fortune. A duty not to fail. A duty to do all he could to save the title, the estate, the name, from further disrepute, ridicule, and disaster. Though if there was anything in this world he felt less equipped to do, any task he felt less suited to, he could not think of it. He felt doomed to fail, unworthy of such high hopes as those of that annoying little writer who’d taken some unfathomable interest in him, and whose words had been salt in a very fresh wound.
Only those who wager against me shall not be disappointed, I fear, Mr Cat.
Sighing, he pushed that all away, and glanced again at his silent and shadowed interlocutor. He hadn’t meant to scare the poor mite, ranting at her as she obviously sought refuge andescape considering she had nobeaunor friend accompanying her, only he’d expelled as much of his frustrations out on the hedges, and roses, and topiaries, andlittle tiny perfect lanterns and decorationsthat had littered his path from the ballroom, and he needed…
Another pair of eyes. Of ears. Someone to bloody talk to.
Only that was the problem in and of itself—mostly—and he was so fed up, yes, he’d arrived at the point of accosting women in the dark night to ask what precisely was wrong with him, even though he bloody well knew, but she, unlike stodgy, severe old solicitors, might actually have some sort of miracle cure or wisdom to offer.
‘You are the new Earl of Gadmin, are you not?’ the woman said suddenly, scaring him half to death, as she tore him from his thoughts and grim mood.
Her voice too, was smooth, and deeper, richer, than he’d expected, but then he’d expected one of the debutantes from inside that Hell that resembled confectionary, and now he realised she wasn’t wearing the usual light colours, but from what he could tell even in the poor—some might argue, romantic—light, some drab…
‘My sister and mother advise me it is maroon,’ the woman enlightened him, and wasn’t she sharp indeed? ‘Typically I find maroon to be a very attractive colour, and I like it very much, however, this is not maroon. It is closer tomud. In my opinion, at least.’
‘Then why wear it?’ he found himself asking, which wasn’t to any point whatsoever, yet he found his frustration melting away with every passing second.
Perhaps I might enjoy myself for five minutes this evening after all.
‘It is what was chosen, and my lack of appreciation of it, in the end is not so great as to provoke greater conflict by asking for something else.’
‘Very wise,’ he nodded.
‘How much money do you actually require?’
‘Pardon?’
‘To save your estate, or should I say, the only remaining thing of value in the earldom. Everyone who need know in the kingdom is aware of your circumstances, my lord,’ she added after a moment—if he had to guess, spotting his dumbfounded look of shock. ‘They might’ve been even without Jack the Cat’s introductory piece. Though I found it rather complimentary.’
‘Yes, it might’ve been worse. He did express hope I might overcome, and become a symbol of a new age. Though I fear it is likely I will disappoint. As I have thebeau mondethus far, apparently.’
‘You are not quite as savage as they’d hoped. You have conducted yourself admirably well, which has disappointed them greatly.’
‘So you hear, or…?’
‘If you are asking if I have been watching you, then yes. We attended quite a few of the same events. You, searching for a wife, my sister, for a husband.’
‘Don’t suppose your sister would marry me? It sounds as if we would make the perfect match.’
‘She has her sights set on a duke, I fear. A marquess at the very least.’ The woman’s tone suggested that wasn’t the only reason her sister and he would be a good match, and truth be told, he rather liked this one. Thus far. Without having even seen her.
‘Should I recognise you? Have we been introduced? Having attended many of the same events,’ he clarified. ‘I hope we haven’t danced, and I have since forgotten.’
