Wedding Night With the Earl (2 page)

“Pharaoh, that’s enough of that,” he told the dog, and gave his head a slight push to send him on his way. “Go find something to do. I’ll take over from here.”

A window in the door pushed open and a round-faced gentleman with big, slightly bulging eyes stuck his head out and said, “A pleasant afternoon to you, my good man. Could you please tell me if this is the house where the Earl of Greyhawke is residing?”

Adam thought about lying and sending the gentleman on a fool’s search for a nonexistent cottage somewhere on the other side of the valley, but what good would that do? The man would eventually discover he’d been duped and return. Better to get rid of him now and not have to deal with him again later.

“Who’s asking?”

“I’m Mr. Alfred Hopscotch, the Prince’s emissary. He’s sent me to see the earl on an urgent matter.”

Adam tensed. The Prince? Sent someone to see him? He certainly hadn’t expected that. He eyed he man curiously. “What does the Prince want with me?”

The man’s wide, bushy brows shot up. He looked Adam up and down. Adam knew Hopscotch was thinking that he’d never seen a gentleman dressed in commoners’ clothing with shoulder-length hair unbound. But Adam didn’t give a damn. His appearance suited him.

Mr. Hopscotch eyed Pharaoh again, too, as the dog sniffed around the carriage wheels, trying to decide which one was best for marking his territory.

“I will be happy to explain. I’m afraid the dog wouldn’t let me out.”

Adam shrugged. “He doesn’t take kindly to strangers poking around.”

“Will he bite?”

“Only on my command.”

“In that case, I suppose I will have to assume you won’t issue that order and it’s safe for me to come out.”

The rotund man pushed the door open and stepped down from the carriage, then shut the door behind him. He swept his hat off his head, bowed, and looked up pleasantly at Adam. “Lord Greyhawke, pardon me for not recognizing you. I expected someone a … Well, never mind. The Prince received your letter asking that the title Earl of Greyhawke be bestowed on your heir. He sent me to tell you that you cannot disclaim a peerage.”

“I have no use of it,” Adam said flatly.

Mr. Hopscotch watched Pharaoh wander over to him and sniff around the tail of his coat. The Prince’s man cleared his throat uncomfortably and said, “Still, it is yours and you simply cannot just give it up. You don’t have to take a seat in Parliament right away, of course, but someone has to take care of the entailed property of the title, as well as the other estates, properties, and businesses associated with it. Legally you are the only one who can do that.”

Adam frowned. His quiet life away from Society suited him. He had no son to leave the title to, and he didn’t plan to ever marry again and have a son. He didn’t want the title. Why couldn’t it pass to someone who actually wanted it?

“Are you trying to tell me there are no other male Greyhawkes in England who can accept this responsibility?”

“There’s always someone next in line for the title,” said Hopscotch, drumming his fingers nervously on the rim of his hat while Pharaoh continued to sniff around his legs. “You have an heir, my lord. In fact, he is the reason for my visit today.”

Making sure he didn’t come in contact with Pharaoh, Mr. Hopscotch slowly reached behind him, opened the carriage door, and motioned with his hand for someone to come forward. “Come, come. Don’t be frightened. The dog is large but harmless—at least while by his master’s side,” he added under his breath.

Adam watched a small, skinny, terrified-looking lad about the age of three or four step down onto the footstool. His large brown eyes appeared too big for his thin, pale face. Dark brown hair fell across his forehead. It was neatly trimmed above his brows and just below his ears. His clothing, while not expensive, was clean and pressed. Pharaoh immediately approached him for a sniffing inspection, and the child leaned closer to Mr. Hopscotch, almost hiding his face in the man’s coat.

“Come now, none of that. Behave as a young man.” Mr. Hopscotch took hold of the lad’s shoulders and made him face Adam. “Lord Greyhawke, may I present your cousin Master Dixon Greyhawke.”

Adam stared at the little fellow. He didn’t like seeing the frightened look on the boy’s face. Pharaoh didn’t like strangers coming around the cottage, but as long as Adam was calm, Pharaoh would be, too.

Adam pointed to the house and said, “Pharaoh, to the door.” The Pyrenees looked around at Adam as if to say,
Do I have to?
“Go on. By the door.”

The dog hesitated, grumbled, and then trotted over to the door of the cottage and curled up in front of it.

Mr. Hopscotch looked up at the driver and snapped his fingers, then turned to the boy and said, “Master Dixon, you must greet your guardian properly.”

Adam’s head jerked around to the man.

Guardian?

Hell, no.

Not Adam.

The lad timidly stepped forward, bowed low, and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”

“Well done, young man,” said Mr. Hopscotch, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m sure the two of you and the dog will be getting along fine in no time at all.”

Adam stood six feet four in his bare feet and taller in his walking boots. He rose over Hopscotch and peered down at him. “You aren’t leaving him here.”

Mr. Hopscotch blinked but didn’t cower. “I have no choice in the matter, and neither do you. He is next in line for the title. Until you bear a son, he is officially your heir. Even if you somehow managed to do the impossible and pass the title on to him while you are still living, as his oldest living male relative you would be responsible for him, his education, and all that comes with the property until he comes of age.”

“I’m responsible for no one,” Adam argued with a snort of derision.

“You are now,” Mr. Hopscotch answered quickly. “It is your duty to manage, protect, and prosper the estate and all it entails until the next earl takes over.”

Damnation, it never dawned on Adam to think about who might be next in line for the title. He hadn’t really thought about anything in a long time except what had happened to Annie and his child. Hell, he hadn’t even known he was in line for the title until he’d received a letter several weeks ago stating he was the new earl. The Greyhawkes had never been a large or close-knit family. Adam had assumed the next heir would be someone older, bigger, and stronger-looking than the tyke standing beside Hopscotch, trying his best to be brave.

“He’s too young for Eton, of course,” Mr. Hopscotch continued, “but you can start teaching him the usual things a boy needs to know, such as how to ride, shoot, hunt, and play chess. A tutor can take care of everything else he should learn.”

“I don’t know anything about teaching a child how to ride a horse or hold a bow, even if I wanted to,” Adam muttered impatiently. “Which I don’t.” The driver placed a trunk at Adam’s feet. He frowned, looked up at Hopscotch, and asked, “What’s this?”

“I’m really not sure,” the Prince’s man said, staring at the trunk. “But I would suspect it’s some of whatever is left of Master Dixon’s possessions. I think there are more things at the orphanage, but I’ll leave it to you to look into that for him.”

Mr. Hopscotch reached for the handle to the carriage door. Quick as lightning, Adam slammed his open hand against it, holding it shut. Hopscotch and the boy flinched from the loud crack.

Adam’s gaze zeroed in on Hopscotch, and he leaned his face dangerously close to the older man’s.

“I said, you aren’t leaving him with me.” Adam’s voice was low and calm, but there could be no doubt that he meant what he said.

“In this you have no choice, my lord.” Mr. Hopscotch calmly pointed to the top of the carriage.

Adam glanced up and saw the guard had his musket trained on Adam’s chest. He didn’t think for a minute the sentinel would shoot him, but he would keep Adam from harming Hopscotch.

“Unfortunately, he’s on the Prince’s orders, not mine. I can’t tell him what to do. As far as the Prince is concerned,
you
are the Earl of Greyhawke and this child is
your
heir and
your
responsibility.”

Responsible? For this bony snip of a lad?

Adam had barely been able to take care of himself the past two years. He no longer drank all night and all day, as he had when he’d first arrived in Yorkshire, but he certainly wasn’t capable of taking on the care of a young child.

“What you do with him from here on out will be your choice. If you don’t want to care for him,” Mr. Hopscotch continued in an irritated voice, “hire him out as a servant or take him to London and put him back in the orphanage. Quite frankly, Lord Greyhawke, I wouldn’t have the stomach to do something like that to him.”

A servant or orphanage? What kind of man did Hopscotch think he was?

Adam turned to Dixon. His big eyes were wide and staring straight ahead. He looked so stiff and brittle at the moment, Adam feared he’d break if anyone touched him.

“An orphanage?” Adam asked from between clenched teeth. “Where the hell…” Mr. Hopscotch’s brows lifted. Adam stopped and swore silently as he cleared his throat. “Where’s his mother? He needs to be with her until he’s old enough to be sent to school.”

“She’s no longer with us,” the Prince’s man answered almost under his breath.

“You mean she’s—”

“Yes,” said Mr. Hopscotch, cutting off Adam’s words quickly. “From what we’ve been able to discover, she was the only family he had, except for you, of course.”

Adam looked at the young lad standing so stoically. There was no doubt the boy knew what they were talking about. His eyes held a glistening gleam, though he never moved or said a word. For the first time in over two years, Adam felt his heart soften. He didn’t want it to, but he felt the boy’s pain of loss and knew that someone so young shouldn’t have to feel that overpowering sense of helplessness.

Adam wanted to reject the pull of compassion that gripped him, worming its way into his soul. “I don’t know what to do with him,” he grumbled. “Doesn’t he have a nurse or governess? Look at him. He can’t be more than three or four years old.”

“I’m five,” Dixon said defiantly in his first show of any kind of emotion as he looked up at Adam with glaring brown eyes. “I don’t need a nurse. I can take care of myself.” He then jerkily folded his arms across his chest and set his lips in a thin, firm line.

“Good,” Adam responded. “If you stay here with me, you’ll probably have to.”

“We hope it won’t come to that, my lord,” Mr. Hopscotch said, and then stopped and sighed heavily. “The Prince is happy to assist you in any way you might need.”

“Me mum said I was small for my age,” the little boy said, obviously not ready to forgive Adam for thinking him younger.

“That you are.”

“I’ll grow,” Dixon insisted. “I’ll be taller than you one day.”

“Let’s hope so,” Adam said more to himself than the lad.

“We found out that Master Dixon was living in an orphanage. Apparently, a neighbor, who unfortunately didn’t know what to do, placed him there. He certainly didn’t have the means to bring Master Dixon up in the proper way an heir to a title should be educated, protected, and nourished,” Mr. Hopscotch said. “For more than two months now, my lord, the extensive Greyhawke estates have been left in the hands of solicitors, managers, and all manner of overseers. You need to come to London, talk to your solicitors, and start seeing to all your properties. If you don’t want the lands and businesses kept up properly and in good stead for the benefit of yourself, at least do your duty, as a man of honor, for your staff who takes care of your homes, the tenants who work your lands, and for Master Dixon until the time he comes of age.”

Adam had never really thought about the responsibility that came with the title he’d never expected to hold. Tenants, lands, and businesses? A five-year-old homeless heir?

He vacillated again. He didn’t want to take care of the lad, but Hopscotch knew he’d never send Dixon to an orphanage. Adam was a man of honor. That was about the only thing he hadn’t denounced when he’d moved to the coast.

Adam had done a lot of things in his thirty years of life. Some good. Some bad. But he’d never run from a fight or from an obligation, and he couldn’t now.

His gaze swept over to the defiant little lad again, and his mind started swirling with thoughts. As the earl, it was his duty to beget an heir. Yet he’d vowed never to marry again and put another woman through the hell Annie went through trying to have his babe. And now he didn’t have to. He had an heir. Through no fault of either of them, Dixon was suddenly Adam’s responsibility. So was this fate’s way of trying to make up that loss to him and grant him an heir?

Adam grunted a short, humorless laugh. Obviously fate was not through with him yet.

He might not want to be Dixon’s guardian, but how could he leave the lad to suffer in an orphanage or worse? He couldn’t. Dixon needed to be nurtured as if he were Adam’s own child.

And just that quickly, Adam knew he would give up his solitary life and satisfy tradition. He would move back to London as the Earl of Greyhawke and be responsible for all it encompassed. Maybe at last, through this deed of caring for Dixon, he could find some measure of happiness, if not redemption, for what he’d done to his wife.

Adam took in a large breath, knowing what he was facing. He looked down at the boy and said grudgingly, “Come with me. It’s best you make friends with Pharaoh.”

Chapter 3

I have set my life upon a cast,

And I will stand the hazard of the die.

—Richard III,
act 5, scene 4

Adam’s first full day in London had been a challenge, and thankfully it was coming to an end.

Between solicitors clamoring for his undivided attention, tailors measuring him for new clothing, and a surprised bevy of servants—who, he felt certain, weren’t sure they believed him to be the new earl—scurrying about, Adam’s head was pounding. Dixon had managed to stay out of the fray by playing in his new room with the wooden soldiers Adam had bought him before leaving Yorkshire.