An Earl Unmasked Read online

  An Earl Unmasked

  Ladies of Risk, Book 1

  Rachel Ann Smith

  © Copyright 2022 by Rachel Ann Smith

  Text by Rachel Ann Smith

  Cover by Wicked Smart Designs

  Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.

  P.O. Box 7968

  La Verne CA 91750

  [email protected]

  Produced in the United States of America

  First Edition January 2022

  Kindle Edition

  Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.

  All Rights Reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  License Notes:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for you and given as a gift for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If this book was purchased on an unauthorized platform, then it is a pirated and/or unauthorized copy and violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do not purchase or accept pirated copies. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work. For subsidiary rights, contact Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Publisher’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Chestwick Hall

  The candlelight flickered and specks of forest green paint caught Lady Diana Malbury’s eye. “Either the painter you commissioned for this portrait dipped their brush into the wrong color or your heir has rather unusual colored eyes.”

  The silver-haired Earl of Chestwick chuckled. “Nothing strange about Randal’s eyes. They are simply hazel.”

  “Hazel?” Diana rolled to the balls of her feet and peered closer at the man’s eyes in the painting, “Hmm…medium to light shades of brown, multiple variations of green, and…is that specks of gold?” She blinked twice to clear her vision. Intriguing. Definitely, no one of her acquaintance had such unique coloring. Her friends and family all possessed either blue or brown eyes of various shades; however, they easily fell into one of the two categories.

  “Aye, well mayhap Mr. Graystone emphasized the yellow shards in the boy’s irises a tad.”

  Diana’s brows creased at the earl’s remark. Artists were commissioned to paint their subjects with accuracy to provide future generations a glimpse into the past, not elaborate or embellish a person’s features. Shifting her focus to the image of the younger man in the painting, Diana noted the strong familial similarities between the two strapping lads in the portrait. Both men had their papa’s square jaw and defined brow line.

  “Your younger son appears to have dark brown eyes.” She turned to face her host and squinted. “Like you.”

  “The late Countess Chestwick was a beauty. Golden tresses with sky-blue eyes.”

  She tapped the toe of her foot as she studied Randal’s image once more. Thinking out loud, Diana mumbled, “How is it that the future Earl of Chestwick, inherited neither brown nor blue eyes? Instead, Randal’s eyes contain an arresting blend of warm forest colors that even includes rays of sunshine.” It was a good thing none of her siblings were present while she had uttered such a poetic description. They would have certainly laughed at her choice of adjectives, and no doubt provided some long-winded, scientific explanation for their neighbor’s eye coloring.

  With no clear memory of the boy she had only occasionally caught a glimpse of from a distance, Diana examined the man in the portrait. Symmetrical facial features were scientifically proven to appeal to the majority; combined with the man’s unique eye coloring, Diana was captivated by Randal’s image. It wouldn’t be a hardship to gaze into those eyes, ball after ball, or across the supper table. She shook her head slightly. Now was not the time for fanciful fantasies. Randal Wilson, heir to the earldom, the man destined to own her dream residence, was not likely to pay her any attention during the upcoming Season when she was to make her debut into society.

  The gold flecks of paint reflected in the light, capturing Diana’s attention. “Hmm. I believe I shall need to research the matter more.”

  “Grand. However, Randal has chosen to go and fight in the war. It could be years before…”

  She interrupted the earl, “Oh, not the matter of your son. The science behind our heredity.” Ready to view the next portrait along the walls, Diana stepped around the Earl of Chestwick, who she left staring at the images of his two sons.

  Meandering down the long hall, Diana studied the various portraits. She mentally took notes, observing the high frequency of the Chestwick square jawline appearing throughout the generations. Diana paused in front of a painting of a woman that could be no other than the late Countess of Chestwick. The earl had described his wife in detail with much love and devotion in his tone that Diana believed Randal was the product of a love match. A rare occurrence amongst their set.

  Staring up at the lady in the painting, words like genteel and poised entered Diana’s mind. Neither of which Diana had managed to master, despite her mama’s best efforts. Instead, Diana was often caught sprawled upon a rug in front of a fireplace with a volume full of poetry or a tome full of philosophic theorems laid out before her. It was her thirst for knowledge and access to such works that had led Diana to boldly introduce herself to the earl. The earl. Where had he disappeared to? “My lord?”

  The old man’s deep voice echoed down the hall. “In the study, my dear.”

  How long had she been dawdling in front of the fine reproductions of the Chestwick line? Picking up the hem of her skirts, she marched toward Lord Chestwick’s private study. She slowed her pace as she a
pproached the doorway. Smiling at the footman who stood guard at the entrance, Diana said, “A good afternoon to you, Paul.”

  The footman bowed. “My lady.”

  “Would you mind fetching Annie? It’s time for us to head back home.” Annie wasn’t her lady’s maid, but it was known between households that Paul had a hankering for Annie, who was one of the Malbury housemaids. Diana wasn’t a matchmaker, but she was always happy to involve herself in such schemes if it brought harmony between the two estates.

  “Stop loitering in the doorway. Come in. Come in.” The earl’s quill was flying across the parchment before him. Not bothering to look up, the man that was more like a papa to Diana than her own said, “I’ve devised a new treasure hunt for you.”

  Diana raced over to the desk and flopped into the seat facing the earl. “Am I to decipher a section of prose, or shall it be a poem this time?”

  Exploring the extensive library in search of clues to solve the earl’s puzzles was her favorite pastime during the summer months. The man was extremely clever. Most of his schemes required Diana to visit multiple times in order to solve one of his ingenious word searches. Brows creased, Diana counted the number of days remaining before she, along with her sisters and mama, were to return to London. Three blooming days is all she would have to solve the dear man’s latest puzzle.

  “Neither.” He folded the parchment in half and half again before reaching for wax and his seal. “If you remain unmarried after your first Season and return to your family estate unbetrothed, you may come back and attempt to find my most treasured verses.” He waved the sealed paper back and forth in between them.

  “And if I miraculously find a suitable gentleman to marry?”

  “Burn it.” He placed the parchment on his desk and pushed it forward to sit right in front of her. “You will be far too busy taking up residence in your husband’s abode.”

  She leaned forward and picked up the parchment. “Why give it to me now?” Diana studied the design stamped into the red wax. The capitalized C was backward. She rotated the note.

  “Our family crest created by my forefathers utilizes the ancient italic alphabet.” The earl answered her unspoken question before addressing the one she had vocalized. “Perhaps as a litmus test.”

  Diana lifted her gaze to stare into the old man’s astute but cloudy irises. “Is it your hypothesis that I shall only forgo this…” she waved the note in the air, “my love of inquiry for the love of a man.”

  “Indeed, it is.” He stood, slowly rounded the desk, and winged his arm out for her. The earl’s fragile form leaned lightly into her as he escorted her out to the foyer, where Annie was patiently waiting by the front door.

  Diana’s heart clenched as she turned to say her farewell. “I shall see you next summer. Be prepared to relinquish your most favored poem.” She broke every societal rule and gave the old man a hug. Her intuition told her this would be the last time she would see him.

  Returning her embrace, the earl rasped, “I hope you do, my dear Miss Diana. I wish it so.” The tinge of melancholy in the earl’s voice had Diana fighting back tears.

  The heavy material of her cloak fell upon her shoulders, and she stepped back. Blinking away the moisture in her eyes, she fumbled with the buttons and then straightened her shoulders. Plastering a smile upon her face, she confessed, “I shall miss you, my lord.”

  The old man chuckled. “Bah. It is not I who you will miss. It will be the challenge of sneaking away undetected to solve riddles that you shall yearn for.” He glanced out the open door at the gray clouds that blocked out the sun. “I shall be happy to provide you transportation back to your family estate.”

  “And as you well know, Annie and I prefer to walk.” Diana sent up a quick prayer that the rain would hold off and that they would make it back to Malbury Manor, dry and unnoticed.

  “As you wish.” The Earl of Chestwick bowed, and Diana took her leave.

  She and Annie trudged along the worn path in the field that would lead them back into the mayhem of Malbury Manor. Boots covered in mud and a mile closer to her destination, Diana considered the ramifications of defying her mama’s edict to marry. None were as troublesome to Diana as the thought of never seeing old Earl Chestwick again.

  She patted the note in her pocket that was light as a feather but, with each step she took away from Chestwick Hall, began to weigh down her coat like a boulder. She pushed her feet forward. Would the earl’s heir, a highly decorated captain in the army, Randal Wilson, honor his scholarly papa’s invitation for her return to Chestwick library?

  Chapter One

  Jaw clenched, Diana braced a hand against the cool coach window and scanned the horizon. The chill in the traveling coach had naught to do with dusk setting upon them. No—her pebbled skin was due to her mama’s frosty glares, which she was attempting to avoid. With Malbury Manor nowhere in sight, Diana straightened her shoulders and settled back against the recently refurbished tufted coach seat.

  Her mama, the esteemed Countess Wallace, pinned her eldest sister, Minerva, with a steely stare. “Another Season and not a single offer of marriage. Not one. Not for you. Not for your sisters.” Her mama wasn’t entirely heartless, merely direct according to her sister, despite evidence to the contrary. Minerva was more of a mama to all the Malbury siblings than the woman that birthed the brood of five children.

  While both Minerva and her other sister Isadora flinched at their mama’s statement, Diana remained frozen. Why her mama harped on about marriage was beyond Diana’s comprehension. Her parents’ union was riddled with hypocrisies. There was no logical reason for her or her sisters to be in a rush to bind themselves to some gentleman who would simply ignore them. Marrying was a far worse fate than being banished for the summer to their family country seat in Manchester. She stiffened as Minerva’s shoulders sagged in defeat. To date, her sister had endured three dreadful Seasons. Minerva should be awarded a medal for having avoided a match based merely on her beauty or her sizable dowry.

  Diana crossed her arms beneath her cloak and stuck out her chin. “It’s not Minerva’s fault the gentlemen of the ton are all simpletons.”

  “Is that a fact? Then pray tell, what is your excuse for failing to garner an offer from Lord Drake?” Her mama’s gaze landed upon Diana.

  Success! Minerva was the queen of diverting their mama’s wrath away from others, but finally, Diana was able to return the favor for her sister. What a boon, especially after all of Diana and her sister Isadora’s futile attempts to assist Minerva in finding a gentleman worthy of her hand. Confidence bolstered, Diana answered. “Since I’m the youngest daughter—it stands to reason that I should be the last to lure some poor man into wedlock.”

  “Nonsense.” Her mama withdrew a gloved hand from her fur muff and patted Diana on the knee. “It is my wish to see you all happily wed and in no particular order. I believe Lord Drake would make for a wonderful husband.”

  Instead of rolling her eyes heavenward, Diana lowered her gaze to the spot her mama had made physical contact with her. A peculiar numb sensation seeped into Diana’s bones.

  “Lord Drake is blind,” Isadora stated but failed to redirect the Countess of Wallace’s attention away from Diana.

  “Nonsense. The boy has perfect vision.”

  Neighbor and best friend to Diana’s oldest brother, Anthony MacMillian, Lord Drake, was charming, intelligent, and easy on the eyes, but he was not the man for Diana. “I wish to wed a man who might share my affinity for literature and riddles.”

  The countess’s eyes narrowed. “Then I shall count myself fortunate you did not declare to all and sundry that you shall marry the first man to solve a riddle that you and your sisters may have concocted.”

  Minerva shrunk further into her cloak. Isadora shifted forward, attempting to draw their mama’s attention. “Mama, what a brilliant idea. How fortunate for us to have inherited your intellect and wit.” Isadora’s voice was infused with sarcasm that had their
mama’s gaze shifting in her direction. Before Minerva could intervene, Isadora continued, “Diana, you must heed Mama’s advice and issue the challenge upon our return to London. We have all summer to craft a riddle. Oh, won’t that be fun!”

  The countess’s lips thinned into a straight line. “Insolent chits.” With a huff, she secured her hands back into her muff and closed her eyes.

  Thankful the conversation was over, Diana peered once again out the window. A familiar stone structure came into sight. Diana’s pulse quickened. Chestwick Hall.

  Over the years, Diana had gone missing for hours, stowed away in the Chestwick library. It was her favorite pastime. She was no ninny and recognized how rare an opportunity it was for a lady to have such access to an exquisite collection of literary works. The library shelves were filled with books amassed by the Chestwick line over several generations. Her favorites dated back to the days of the Crusades.

  As a descendant of scholars, Diana found it rather peculiar that the current earl had joined the army. However, if rumors were to be believed, Randal Wilson was the devil himself upon the battlefield. He was legendary—reported to have led several ingenious attacks, slaying the enemy, and saving the lives of those who followed him into battle.

  Diana craned her neck as the manor became a distant speck. After a long Season of tedious social events, she longed to curl up in the large wingback chair before the hearth at Chestwick Hall and bury her nose in one of its tomes.

  A sharp elbow dug into her ribs. Diana twisted to face Minerva. “What?”

  Her sister leaned in closer. “Please tell me you are not considering venturing to Chestwick Hall, uninvited.”

  Diana pressed her lips tight together. Minerva possessed the uncanny ability to know exactly what others were thinking before they even thought it. Her sister was always two moves ahead of everyone else, and it was dastardly annoying.

  Minerva attempted to adopt their mama’s stern stare but failed. “Trespassing is illegal. With the old earl gone, you are no longer welcome.”