Love Hidden in the Earl’s Garden (Preview)

Chapter One

Early Summer, 1813, on the outskirts of London

“Be quiet, Amy, they might hear us,” Emma Arden whispered beneath her breath, glancing over her shoulder as she and her best friend climbed over a wooden fence. Her legs dangled over one side as she used her hands to steady her frame. 

Amelia Greyson, affectionately known as Amy, giggled as she tucked her gray dress around her legs and dropped to the ground on the other side of the fence post. “Half of London is sleeping, Emma, and besides, we are too far out, and the sun isn’t even up yet.” She gestured to the dark sky above their heads and shook her head dismissively. 

Glancing over her shoulder again at the outline of the buildings in the distance, Emma chewed the inside of her cheek, tucking a loose strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. “I know, I just don’t want us to get caught. We have a good thing going with Mr. Moorwood.” She took a deep breath and pulled the handle of her basket further up her arm, before swinging her legs over the fence and plopping down beside her friend. 

The soft grass beneath their feet muffled any sounds that their boots may have made. They had become quite proficient in sneaking out ever since the town’s apothecary master had enlisted their help. 

“It’s a wonder how you and I manage to do that every time. Do you think there will come a time in this life when women are allowed to wear breeches? It will be a great deal handier when climbing fences.” Amy’s light green eyes sparkled mischievously, appearing almost yellow in the almost perceptible morning light.

The stars were still visible overhead, but even they were beginning to fade. It was still dark enough for the girls to remain hidden, yet the rising sun provided just enough light for them to navigate the fields. 

Emma shook her head. “I doubt it. I think the idea is to keep women from climbing over fences. It would give us far too much liberty if we could move about freely.” 

Their light laughter filled the air as Amy looped her arm through Emma’s and began to lead the way to the edge of the forest, where they intended to gather a few herbs and plants. 

“Do you have the list from Mr. Moorwood?” Amy asked as a light breeze loosened a few strands of her golden blonde hair from her braid. Unlike Emma, who always liked to keep her hair in elegant styles, Amy always seemed to prefer whatever style would help her in doing her hair the quickest. At the tender age of 18, Amy was five years younger than Emma and at least a head shorter. 

Dipping her hand into the pocket of her traveling cloak, Emma retrieved a scrap of parchment and proceeded to read mostly from memory, scrunching her fine nose as she squinted in the growing light. “Fox glove, chamomile, and valerian.” 

“I wonder what Mr. Moorwood uses those for?” Amy pulled the corner of her thin lips into a thoughtful question as she frowned. 

“Well, both valerian and chamomile are used to aid sleep, while foxglove can be used to treat pains in the chest. I saw Mr. Moorwood giving a powder made from the leaves to Mr. Dockerty from the butcher just the other day. He said it would ease the pain and also prevent collapse from problems of the heart,” Emma answered knowingly. 

Amy rolled her eyes at the mention of Mr. Dockerty. “Do you think perhaps Mr. Moorwood has something that will fix Mr. Dockerty’s son?” Her voice was scathing as she sighed.

“William? Is there something wrong with him?” Emma’s brow knit into a frown just as they reached the edge of the forest. 

The sun was a little higher in the sky now, making it possible for them to see the plants and herbs. 

“What isn’t wrong with him? He almost tripped me in front of his father’s shop the other day. This was after announcing to a group of passing men that they should be wary of mousy Amy, who would bewitch them with her yellow eyes.” She wrinkled her button nose in disgust and sighed again before hunkering down beside a small patch of chamomile. 

The little white flowers with yellow centers strongly resembled a field of fried eggs freshly cracked in a pan. The scent wafted into the air when Amy’s dress created a small wind that disturbed their petals. 

“That’s awful. How could he say such a thing?” Emma’s dark green eyes widened in shock. 

Amy seemed thoughtful at first but quickly returned her attention to her task. “He did see me carrying a full basket of herbs the other day. Perhaps he thinks I bewitch young men instead of delivering them to Mr. Moorwood for his apothecary.” She shrugged nonchalantly. 

Emma couldn’t help but giggle at her friend’s response. “I didn’t mean about that, I meant saying you are mousy. You are anything but mousy; in fact, I think you are rather pretty. Any young man would be lucky to court you.” She bent over and sniffed a tall stalk of foxgloves, inhaling the delicate, yet almost imperceptible scent. “Perhaps he is in love with you and doesn’t know how to show his feelings.” 

“Then he had better direct those feelings elsewhere and leave me alone. I have standards despite his mousy perception of me,” she said sternly before shaking her head and coming up with an almost full basket of tiny white flowers. 

Leaning over, Emma began to methodically pick the small green leaves of the foxglove before placing them carefully in her basket. The sun had risen while they were talking, and the bright early rays lit up the patch of herbs and flowers on the edge of the forest, highlighting to drops of dew on the plants. 

“Never mind all of that. How are you feeling about your impending marriage? You must be excited to marry into such a noble and wealthy family? What is it now, a month until the wedding?” Amy’s lips curved into a smile as she began to hunt for the valerian. 

Emma’s heart skipped a beat as she took a deep breath. She always forgot about the rest of the world when she was hunting for plants. “It’s not as if I’ll be a lady, I’m only marrying the Earl of Mistwood’s cousin.” 

“But still, your father will have the status of his beloved daughter marrying into nobility. I know that is what he has always wanted. And Nicholas Courteney is a very handsome man.” Her voice held a teasing note as she looked at Emma and wiggled her eyebrows. 

“That he is, and quite charming as well. I’m just not certain if I am in love with him or not, or if he, in turn, is marrying me out of obligation, or true feelings of affection.” 

“Have you looked in a mirror lately? You are the picture of grace and elegance. I know at least half a dozen young men in London who would have asked for your hand if it hadn’t been for your father’s arrangement. Besides your lithe figure and other physical attributes, you lead a double life as a student healer. Who wouldn’t want to fall in love with you?” 

Emma laughed again, shaking her head at her friend’s antics. Although Amy didn’t care for healing and apothecary as much as she did, her friend always enjoyed sneaking out with her and going on numerous adventures in the countryside. It had become common practice for them to gather plants and herbs for Mr. Moorwood in exchange for him secretly teaching Emma his trade. 

“There is more to love than just physical attraction, Amy. I want a happy marriage, not just one based on looks. I know it might be too much to ask, but it would be truly wonderful if we had something in common.” 

“So, you want him to be a spy?” Amy cocked her head to the side and stared thoughtfully at her. 

Laughing harder now, Emma quickly looked over her shoulder to see if anyone had heard her. Although they were far enough away from the houses, there was still a chance that her parents would come looking for her if they noticed her absence. “I don’t mean that he should lead a double life, but it would be nice if he took an interest in apothecary, healing, or even botany. I can’t imagine anything better than spending long evenings in front of the fire discussing those topics.” 

Her mind wandered off into a dreamy reality where she and her husband would raise their children with a love for healing and knowledge. Emma looked up again to see her friend watching her closely with a concerned expression. “Is something the matter?” 

Amy quickly shook her head and forced a smile. “No, not at all. I was just thinking about your marriage. I do not think that Nicholas Courteney has the same interests that you do, but you must always remember that opposites can attract. Perhaps the two of you will learn to love one another while having different interests.” 

Emma’s heart sank a little as she thought of a life with someone who didn’t encourage her interests. It was bad enough that she felt the need to hide her hobbies from her parents; it seemed almost like a punishment if she had to hide her love for healing from her husband-to-be.

“But don’t let my silly thoughts take away from your engagement. I’m sure that you will be blissfully happy together. Why wouldn’t you be? You will have your own home, living separately from your parents. That’s more than any of us can hope for!” Amy said dramatically, sighing heavily as if she carried the world on her shoulders. 

“Your turn will come; I am certain of that. There is a man out there who will fall head over heels in love with you. You and I shall have tea together every afternoon and harvest herbs from my private gardens. You will see,” Emma said confidently, wanting to believe what she was saying. 

Please, just let him be true in his feelings, thoughts, and deeds. 

She came up straight and dusted off her hands, saying a silent prayer as she examined the contents of her basket. She hadn’t objected to the match that had been arranged by her father, but she did wish she could have fallen in love with him before the marriage. 

Coming to her side, Emma reached for her arm again as they set out in the direction they had come. The birds were singing now as the sun made its full, glorious appearance over the hills in the distance. 

“That is a lovely thought, dearest Emma, but perhaps I shall become a spinster and visit you with my many cats,” Amy remarked light-heartedly, trying to take Emma’s mind off her worries. 

Emma always knew she could count on her friend to cheer her up, especially when things were uncertain. “That would be lovely, hopefully my husband-to-be does not have an aversion to pets.” 

“If he does, we shall just ask Mr. Moorwood to cure him. There is nothing more bothersome than a husband who sneezes every time you offer another creature attention,” Amy smirked, snorting a little with laughter. 

“Amy, it is not nice to refer to men as ‘creatures’.” Emma struggled to contain her own laughter at her friend’s remark. 

“Perhaps, but most of them do behave worse than cats and dogs. Just the other day, I heard Mrs. Dockerty complaining to her friends about the muddy boots her husband and son leave at the door. If I were in her shoes, I would toss their boots out on the street and pretend that a stray dog had taken them. That would teach them how to take care of their belongings and not expect a woman to pick up after them all the time.” 

Emma sucked in a sharp breath, a little taken aback by her friend’s bold statement. “Amy, you mustn’t say such things.” 

“And why not? Would you like to spend the rest of your life picking up your husband’s muddy boots at the door?” 

“I would not, I would get one of the servants to do it,” she said as a matter of fact. “I have it on good authority that marrying into nobility will provide me with as many servants as I desire.” 

Stopping in her tracks, Amy held her friend back by the arm and gawked at her. “Emma Arden, did you just jest?” 

Heat filled her cheeks as Emma tucked her dress and cloak between her knees and climbed back over the fence. “Perhaps.” She smiled sheepishly as Amy followed suit. 

“Brava, I approve. Perhaps the parson’s mousetrap is already improving on your love for propriety. I always thought that you were holding back when it came to humor and teasing.” Amy dropped to her feet beside Emma and laughed, dusting off her skirts.

The pair began to make their way back home, their herbs hidden under mounds of wildflowers to hide the evidence. The future began to look a little brighter as Emma thought of the charming Nicholas and what life would be like as his wife. Perhaps it wasn’t all that bad if they had different interests. The man did seem to harbor a sense of humor; at least they would be able to be friends if nothing more. 

They had just turned a corner on the empty street where Emma lived when her mother came hurrying toward her, her round face pale with concern. 

“Emma Arden, where on God’s green earth have you been?” She was almost out of breath when she stopped in front of the girls and looked from one to the other, her dark green eyes taking in the dust on their dresses. Her simple day dress wasn’t as neat as it usually was, and Emma could instantly tell that her mother had hurried to get dressed. 

Emma’s heart dropped as she clutched the handle of her basket a little tighter. “We were just out picking flower’s Mama.” She lifted the handle slightly so that the assortment of flowers was more visible. 

Mrs. Arden raised a hand and clutched at her chest, tilting her head back as she looked at the sky. “You can’t possibly understand a mother’s fears when she finds her daughter’s bed empty first thing in the morning. Here I am worried to death, and the two of you are out arranging flowers.” 

Amy quickly stepped forward. “It was my fault, Mrs. Arden. I asked Emma if she would accompany me this morning. I wanted to gather fresh flowers before the sun was up. I read somewhere that the flowers will last a little longer if picked at the crack of dawn when the dew is still present on the leaves.” 

Looking back down, Mrs. Arden frowned, examining Amy as if she had lost her mind. “Yes, well, you had better go back home before your mother awakens and finds your bed empty. I would hate for her to experience the shock that I have had to live through.” 

The girls exchanged a quick glance before breathing a sigh of relief. Even if they had been caught, it didn’t seem as if her mother would be pressing the matter. 

Emma said goodbye to her friend and watched as Amy hurried down the road, her basket swinging from her arm. She had half the herbs hidden in her basket, but Emma knew that they would find a time later in the day to meet up before taking their finds to Mr. Moorwood’s shop. 

Spinning around, Mrs. Arden placed a hand on her daughter’s arm, her eyes wide as her cheeks flushed pink. “Emma, you must come back home at once; your father has received some terrible news.” 

Her heart pounded furiously as Emma searched her mother’s face. “What is it, Mama?” 

Mrs. Arden shook her head. “This will alter everything. Come, you had better hear the news from your father.” She tightened her grip on Emma’s arm and began to pull her down the street and toward their home. 

 

Chapter Two

Where could he be? 

Oliver Courteney held his pose, shutting one eye as he aimed the tip of his arrow at the center of the target. He exhaled while releasing the bow and felt the string’s vibrations echo in his ear, causing the arrow to pierce the air with a loud whistle before hitting its mark, sure and true. 

“Have you heard anything from Nicholas?” Captain Marcus Haddington admired the shot before turning to his oldest friend. His sandy-blonde hair shone in the bright afternoon light as he stood up straight. His white shirt and cream breaches stood out in stark contrast to his usual navy uniform. 

“No, I have not. I’ve been searching for him far and wide, but it almost seems as if he’s vanished off the face of the earth,” Oliver answered begrudgingly, lowering his arm as he took a deep breath. His shirt clung to his arms, exposing the thickness of his muscles in the late afternoon sun. 

“What will you tell the girl’s father? I am assuming that he hasn’t been told yet. The wealthy Merchant. What is his name again?” Marcus scratched the side of his face as he placed the tip of his bow in the grass and leaned on the other side. 

“Arden, Mr. Richard Arden. He is one of the most successful merchants this side of London. And no, I haven’t told him yet; he won’t be happy to learn that the man who so eagerly sought his daughter’s hand in marriage has up and vanished overnight. I will have to tell him soon if Nicholas doesn’t make an appearance. Although the chances of the gossip reaching his house before I do are greater than I’d like to admit.” His tone revealed his utter annoyance, despite his best efforts to remain stoic. 

Marcus let out a long whistle as he shook his head. “I don’t envy your position. I have some of my men searching for Nicholas, but it is as you say, it seems as if the man simply vanished. Do you think the father will demand compensation for damages done to his daughter’s reputation if Nicholas does not make an appearance soon?” 

“I do not see any circumstances where he would not. He has every right to be angry after all the promises that Nicholas made to the man. Had I been present when the match was made, I would have cautioned my cousin not to be so overly generous with the offer. As the Earl of Mistwood, it is my duty to see that the honorable thing is done.” Oliver flicked his head sharply, throwing his thick mop of dark hair from his face.

A deep frown creased Marcus’s brow as he pursed his lips and scratched his chin where a light layer of stubble had begun to form. “What did you have in mind?” He narrowed his eyes and squinted in the bright rays of the sun. 

Oliver took a deep breath, expanding his broad chest before letting it out once again with his hands on his hips. “Let’s just say that I hope Nicholas returns before it comes to that.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Marcus looked at him with an air of understanding. “You are a far greater man than I, Oliver Courteney. I am not certain that I would sacrifice myself if it came down to it.” 

“Yes, you would, you would do what was right to protect your family’s name, and so shall I.” He gave his friend a knowing look before replacing his bow in the stand beside the barrel of arrows. “I just pray that Nicholas has been called away on urgent business and forgot to leave a note. If he does not return with a good explanation, I will have to resort to desperate measures.” 

“And what of the young girl in question? Have you met her?” Marcus began to follow him toward the house as they left the archery field behind. 

Looking up at the grand house in front of them, Oliver sighed. “I can’t say that I have met her, but her reputation precedes her. She is well spoken of, even among members of the ton. They say she’s an elegant young lady with a fine countenance and a graceful bearing. In fact, there are quite a few young men who would have made her an offer if Nicholas hadn’t gotten to her father first,” he said almost begrudgingly, thinking of the blow the young woman’s reputation would take. 

If Nicholas had left for dishonorable reasons, it would be more than just his family’s reputation at stake. It would have been better for the young girl if his cousin had never entered her life at all. 

“Blimey, she sounds like quite the fine young woman. It’s a wonder that she agreed to the match in the first place. Not that I have anything against your cousin, of course. I just can’t see him settling down to married life with such a delicate young woman. If what people are saying about her is true, then she deserves a far better match. Nicholas always struck me as more of a rakish kind of fellow. Again, no offense meant.” Marcus held up his hands in surrender. 

“None taken, I couldn’t believe it myself when he told me the news. I thought he must have fallen in love with the young woman for him to have turned away from his life at London’s clubs.” Nicholas racked his brain for some small detail he may have missed. Not only was it unlike Nicholas to have gone and fallen in love with the daughter of a wealthy merchant, but Oliver would never have seen him as someone who would just disappear. 

“I guess all we can do now is hope for the best and continue our search. I know this must be hard for you, even if you don’t wish to show it. You treated Nicholas like a brother after he was orphaned.” Marcus lifted a hand and patted him on the back in a comforting gesture. 

“Given the state of things at the moment, I’m not sure if taking him under my wing was the best decision. Perhaps it would have been better if my mother had sent him to live with distant relatives.” He raised his eyes to the house once again, wishing that his mother were there to help him navigate the difficult waters. 

It hadn’t been long after his father’s death that she’d taken up residence in Bath, but he now wished she’d stayed with him on the estate. At least then he’d have someone who knew Nicholas as well as he did. 

Marcus stopped him before he could continue. “I forbid you from blaming either yourself or your mother for the situation at hand. You both did what you could at the time. And let us not get ahead of ourselves; perhaps Nicholas has been called away on urgent business. We will only know for certain once we have tracked him down; there is no sense in placing the cart before the horse.” 

“You’re right, there is every chance that there’s a good reason for his absence.” Oliver tried to reassure himself that Nicholas had simply been called away on business. Yet the nagging feeling in the back of his mind wouldn’t leave him alone. It had been more than a week since Nicholas had gone missing, and things weren’t looking positive from where he was standing. 

Marcus gave Oliver a reassuring nod as soon as they reached the house. “Well, I will carry on the search and let you know if anything comes up. In the meantime, try and get some rest, will you?” He patted Oliver on the shoulder again. “You look like you haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in days.” 

Oliver allowed himself to smirk, feeling the tiniest amount of relief. “Then I think I still look better than you on any given day.” 

Tilting his head back, Marcus laughed from the pit of his stomach. “At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.” He regained his composure and slapped Oliver on the back. “Sadly, your sight seems to have disappeared along with your cousin,” he smirked before heading in the direction of the stables. 

The light-hearted moment didn’t quite bring him as much relief as he’d have hoped, as Oliver turned back to the house, looking up at the window that was Nicholas’ chambers. 

Oliver had been putting off rifling through his cousin’s belongings, but he reasoned with himself that it was time. If Nicholas had left any kind of clue behind, it would more than likely be in there. He entered the house, passing all of the familiar portraits and vases as he made his way up the grand staircase, and over the gallery that led to the bachelor’s corridor. 

It still didn’t feel right when he entered the dark room, but his need to find his cousin drove him forward as he pulled open the drapes. The sound of the drape fittings screeching along the rail echoed through the empty room, grating on his ears as a chill ran down his spine. He’d instructed the maids to leave things as they were, at least until his cousin had shown up again. Light flooded the large room, highlighting the emerald wallpaper and hideous furnishings. Oliver had never liked the room, but his mother had insisted on making it more to Nicholas’s taste when he’d moved into their home. She had asked him his favorite color and tastes and had consequently designed what looked to be the inside of a cheap tavern lodging. 

Shaking off the memories, Oliver looked around the room before rifling through the empty desk and cupboard. It didn’t seem as if Nicholas had taken any of his belongings, but his cousin had also never been one to accumulate garments or any other kind of possessions. His chambers could have been robbed, and things would still seem the same. 

He was about to give up when something on the rug below the desk caught his eye. Hunkering down, he retrieved what looked to be a letter that had fallen from one of the drawers.

Curious. 

He reached the letter and came up straight, frowning as he unfolded the parchment and began to read. 

My darling Nicholas, 

I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to tell you how excited I am to become your wife. I know that you were already betrothed to that daughter of a merchant, but you and I belong together. There is no denying how right we are for each other.

I know her heart will heal in time, but I cannot say that I am saddened for her. Not when my own heart is overflowing with so much joy. I was desperately sad when you told me that you would need to marry her, but I still can’t express how grateful I am that you saw the light and decided to elope with me. We shall begin our lives anew after we elope in Gretna Green. 

I shall meet you with my carriage at midnight in two days. I will have everything that we will require for our new lives. Hopefully, your family will forgive you in time, and perhaps they will even come to accept me as your wife. Even if I am just a lonely widow of the ton. Not for much longer, at least. 

Yours sincerely, Catherine Fagean. 

Falling onto the edge of the bed, Oliver sat down heavily before running his free hand through his hair. The other hand held the letter limply as it hung loosely beside his knee. 

This cannot be. 

He lifted the letter and read it again, scanning the words thoroughly in the hopes that he had misread or even misunderstood. He knew very well who the widow Fagean was; she was notorious among the men of the ton for trying to entrap a new husband, but surely his cousin would not have been that naïve? 

Two days. 

If Nicholas had indeed eloped with her, then there was little he could do about the matter. Seven days had already passed since his cousin had disappeared. 

A cold chill ran down his spine when he realized just how damming the evidence in the letter was. The entire family would be cast into ruin if anyone were ever to discover what had taken place. 

Coming to his feet, he walked over to the fireplace and used the kindling box on the mantle to light the logs on the hearth. Bright flames sprang up in a matter of moments, casting a warm glare on Oliver’s face. The logs crackled as the flames engulfed them, creating an ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach. He watched pensively for a while as the fire grew in both warmth and height. 

I have no choice. 

He leaned against the mantle with his head resting on his forearm as he allowed the letter to fall into the flames. One corner caught fire, burning away the evidence within a matter of moments. All that was left was blackened ash, yet Oliver reassured himself that it was all to protect his family name. 

Heaving a sigh, he steeled himself for what he knew needed to be done. Miss Emma Arden would need to be married within a month if she was going to avoid the scandal that would arise from being jilted. The only way to rectify the situation, and hopefully restore some honor to both families in question, was to propose to her himself.