The Earl Of Heartbreak: Tales From Seldon Park, #9

By Bethany M. Sefchick

Lord Brook Bexley, the Earl of Raynecourt, is known by many names, but to the women of London Society, he is known as the Earl of Heartbreak.  However, there is one woman who also refers to him as nothing more than a friend.  Unfortunately, she is also the only woman he has ever desired, even though she is most decidedly off-limits to a man like him.  After all, gentlemen do not even remotely consider courting their best friend's sister.

Lady Sarah Tillsbury has known Rayne nearly all of her life - and believed him to be out of her reach for just as long.  Even if Rayne was not more family to her than potential husband, he is also known for the trail of broken hearts he has left littered across much of polite society.  However when a misguided letter sends Rayne chasing Sarah across the English countryside to her family's country estate, neither of them can continue to deny what has been brewing between them for so long.  Will Rayne finally come to terms with the fact that he gave away his heart long ago and will Sarah be brave enough to claim the love she has desired for so long?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bethany M. Sefchick
• Release date: Aug 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386414285

Bethany M. Sefchick

Making her home in the mountains of central Pennsylvania, Bethany Sefchick lives with her husband, Ed, and a plethora of Betta fish that she’s constantly finding new ways to entertain. In addition to writing, Bethany owns a jewelry company, Easily Distracted Designs. It should be noted that the owner of the titular Selon Park - one Lord Nicholas Rosemont, the Duke of Candlewood, a.k.a. "The Bloody Duke" - first appeared in her mind when she was eighteen years old and had no idea what to make of him, or of his slightly snarky smile.  She has been attempting to dislodge him ever since - with absolutely no success. When not penning romance novels or creating sparkly treasures, she enjoys cooking, scrapbooking, and lavishing attention on any stray cats who happen to be hanging around. She always enjoys hearing from her fans at: [e-mail]

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Prologue

December 1813

Fieldown

Dorset

The rich scent of pine from the thick garlands wound around the balustrade wafted around him and, as Rayne approached the grand staircase, he could hear someone - quite possibly his cousin Deborah - banging out Christmastide carols rather mercilessly on the pianoforte.  She was accompanied by some horribly off-key singing, though he rather doubted the screeching yowl that sounded more like a cat in severe pain came from her.  When Cousin Deborah sang, it was usually more of a deep, rumbling growl typical of a caged animal eager to rip apart its captors.  Hardly sounds appropriate for a young debutante, but then one could not help what one's singing voice sounded like, he supposed.

Mixed in with the cacophony was the sound of howling, most likely coming from his mother's pack of six corgis.  The little dogs had been running about the house all day, causing mayhem wherever they went and chasing the three cats - two of which were pets of a guest - around the halls as if they were possessed by the Devil himself.  Given the dogs' sheer stamina and obstinate personalities, he would not doubt that possibility in the least.

Yet above all of that ceaseless noise, he could hear her.  Fast.  Fluttery.  Still somehow also determined and in charge as well.  She was a curious mix, his Sarah.  Always had been and likely always would be.  She was also late, as usual.  Her mother, Lady Chillton, often said that Sarah would be late to her own funeral.  That would not surprise him in the least either.

Rayne could also hear Sarah humming and making far more noise than both his mother and hers would likely approve of, especially tonight when she was supposed to be already downstairs and fluttering her lashes at the eligible young swains attending his mother's annual Holly Ball.  She was not, as evidenced by all of the clatter she was making - something she would likely be reprimanded for in the morning.

Instead, Sarah was still roaming the halls abovestairs as if she owned Fieldown - which she didn't.  Though Rayne was not about to inform her of that fact.  Quite honestly, if she requested ownership of the stately old pile, he would likely hand the entire household over to her without a second thought.  After all, this sort of behavior was quintessentially Sarah - and his heart sped up just a bit with that thought - despite his best efforts to the contrary.  For there was simply something about Sarah that set Rayne ablaze.  Especially as she was right at this very moment.

At present, she was wild and free and untamed - precisely how he liked her best.  Soon enough, unfortunately, she would be bent and molded into what a proper young lady should be.  Or at the very least, what Society dictated that a proper young lady should be.  In truth, he was surprised that she wasn't already.  She had already made her debut this past season after all.

So for all of those reasons and more, he would gladly hand over his family's ancestral home to her, if only she could remain the same woman she was right in this moment - mischievous, free-willed, beautiful, without artifice, and unattached.  Even though Rayne knew that was an impossible dream.

At only eighteen, Sarah knew exactly what was expected of her in Society and for some reason, she did her best to flout those expectations as only she could.  And get away with it.  It was one of the things he liked best about her.  Or loved about her.  Rayne was no longer certain where the line between those emotions lie.  He only knew that as the eldest sister of his best friend, he had no business thinking about her in such a fashion.  She was forbidden to him, for according to her brother, Frost, friends did not court other friend's sisters.  She was also still rather young, having just made her debut this past Season.  Rayne himself was a worldly young man of three and twenty.  They simply could not be.  For so very many reasons.  That did not stop him from wishing those reasons to perdition, however.

Strangely enough, Rayne had always felt a peculiar sort of connection with Sarah.  Even when he was fifteen and she a very young ten, and they had met for the first time here in these very halls.  When he had been in desperate need of a friend, she had been there for him in a way that no one else was or even knew was necessary.  His mother certainly hadn't been, nor his sisters and least of all his surly uncle who had been left with instructions to see to Rayne's education and make certain the new young earl learned his duties to both Society and the estate.

Even at fifteen, Rayne had known that his uncle desired the earldom for himself far more than he wanted to be responsible for the new earl who was still studying at Eton.  Rayne was young, after all.  He was not stupid.

Back then, Rayne had also known what it meant when he didn't see his mother for months on end, always being told that she was ill or indisposed.  That meant she was locked in her room, crying.  No one had thought he knew the truth, but he had.  One did not essentially lose both parents at the same time and not have some inkling of what was going on around him.  Especially not a boy like Rayne who had been told more times than he could count that he was too intelligent for his own good.

Eight years ago, Rayne's world had been upended when his father died and left him an earldom he was not in the least prepared to oversee.  It was also the first time that Lady Chillton, herself a Society widow, had descended upon Fieldown, the Earl of Raynecourt's country seat, in order to assist her best friend - Rayne's mother - and brought her family with her.  Including Rayne's best friend, Frost.  And Frost's three younger sisters since the girls could not be left behind.  Including Sarah, a girl who, even at the tender age of ten, had been wise beyond her years.

Sarah had looked at Rayne with those glowing emerald eyes and somehow known that he needed someone to listen.  Not someone to speak, for he had enough people speaking both to him and at him on all manner of subjects.  No, he needed someone who would listen.  Sarah, surprisingly enough, had been that someone.

They had formed a peculiar sort of friendship during those odd two months that Lady Chillton and her family were in residence at Fieldown.  He supposed he would term it a friendship, for he had no idea what else he might call it.  Now, five years on, Sarah, Frost, and the rest of her family were firmly entrenched within Rayne's.  He and Frost - as his best friend preferred to be called rather than the Viscount Chillton, which he thought sounded a bit pompous and stuffy - were best friends.  Rayne loved Lady Chillton almost as much as he loved his own mother.  He thought of both Dory and Aurelia, Frost's other two sisters, as his own flesh and blood sisters as well.

But not Sarah.  Never Sarah.

There was something about her, a seriousness, or perhaps it was more of a carefulness, that called to him in a way unlike any other female of his acquaintance.  He knew better that to act on those feelings, of course.  Not even now, when she was older and technically ready to be wed.  She was still little more than a child - despite her Society debut - while he was a red-blooded man just coming into his prime.  Still, Rayne had often felt for so long that Sarah was, in many ways, an adult trapped inside of a child's body.  That was the only way he could explain this odd connection he felt to her.  It was also the only way he could live with himself given the growing strength of these feelings he had for her deep within himself.

That connection was also another reason why Rayne was extremely glad he was off to Persia after Twelfth Night.  Somehow, he'd had the good fortune - not to mention the coin - to join one of the upcoming archeological expeditions to the region.  There were several teams venturing out into that barren, sandy region and he'd had his choice of locations to pick from.  Seeing these places that he'd only just begun to read about, visiting recently discovered historical sites and possibly discovering an entire new culture or civilization?  Those were the things that fired Rayne's blood.  It was what he wanted.

History didn't change.  It didn't leave or die or lock itself away in a room, not wanting to emerge, not even for a young son desperate for parental guidance.  History was always there, waiting to be uncovered or discovered.  Just waiting to be found.  It was always present, even if one didn't see it.  Far more reliable than people in his opinion.  Not to mention far less painful.

History was also not often found in the form of a very beautiful young woman that he desired but could not have.  Oh, Society would not fault Rayne for courting Sarah, certainly.  They were both of an age, after all.  Still, she was his best friend's eldest sister and Frost had made it clear on more than one occasion that he did not want any of his friends even thinking about courting her.  In fact, he had made threats to that very effect and Rayne did not relish the idea of pistols at dawn with his best friend.

Which was why it was best if Rayne went away.  At least until he could get these unruly feelings and desires of his under control.  If that was even possible.  The way he hardened almost painfully every time he saw Sarah, he rather doubted that it was.

For a moment, Rayne debated about turning around and walking the other way, of avoiding Sarah completely.  It would be for the best.  He knew that.  Still, he could not do such a thing.  Not even if it was the wise thing to do.  Instead, he slowed his pace, knowing that when she rounded the corner, she would see him ambling towards the grand staircase that led to the main ballroom below.  Their meeting would appear accidental.  In reality, it was anything but an accident.

Rayne!  Wait!  He couldn't help but smile as he heard Sarah call out to him the moment she glimpsed him, her slippers slapping against the ancient floor as she ran towards him.  Still young at heart even if she was considered a woman now.  That was his Sarah.

She was dressed in a deep crimson gown, not at all appropriate for a young debutante, but it suited her better than those awful pastels she was typically forced to wear.  Tonight, she was gleaming with her hair piled high on top of her head with only a few tendrils of curls escaping down to brush against her bare shoulders.  Diamonds shone at her throat in a bit of an ostentatious display, but then, that was Sarah.  She loved to sparkle.  He was, however, pleased to note that she had paired the necklace with the more sedate emerald and ruby earbobs that he had secretly given her as an early Christmastide gift a few days ago.  He had said they were a small token of his affection, but in truth, they were so much more.

They were also entirely inappropriate.  In fact, as an unwed young lady, Sarah shouldn't even touch a gift from a young man who wasn't her betrothed.  However, Rayne hadn't cared about the proprieties and neither had Sarah.  Society could go hang.  This connection they shared went beyond any words to properly describe it, and if he wanted to give her a gift, he would.  Just so long as Frost knew nothing about the gesture, of course.

Turning with a smile meant only for her - even if she could never know that - Rayne reached for her hands, catching her as she skidded to a stop in front of him.  He prayed that she never lost her exuberance.  Sarah.  I trust you are well this evening?

She frowned as she snatched her hands away and once more, he was reminded that just because he fancied her, that did not mean that his feelings were reciprocated.  She was young yet.  What could she possibly know of such things?  Of love and desire?  Of what a man wished to do to a woman he thought he might love?  Nothing.  That was what.  Then again, other girls she had debuted with had already been married that fall.  But no.  Not Sarah.  In fact, Rayne couldn't imagine her wed to anyone.  Not even him on most days.

I would be better if Mama would let me cry off from this ball.  Your ballroom is filled with suitors who will paw at me all night and attempt to ply me with spiked punch so that they might compromise me.  That does not sound appealing in the least, and I would prefer to spend the night in bed with a good book.  She shook her head, those luscious curls bouncing so enticingly.  I am not ready to wed and uncertain if I will ever be.  Thank goodness Frost, at least, understands my reluctance.

Your mother simply wants you to make a good match, Rayne said softly, wishing once more that he could be considered an appropriate suitor for Sarah.  Even now she is concerned about your future.

She need not be.  I am fine.  Frost has told her this many times.  She sighed so heavily that he wondered what was going through her mind.  I have experienced more in my life than any of them know.  I know what I want.  What I desire.  And what I don't.  For some reason, Rayne decided that was probably true.  Even now in the dimly lit hallway, with the odd tilt of her head, Sarah appeared more like an old woman of eighty rather than a fresh-faced eighteen.

Do you wish to talk about it? he asked, knowing she would likely decline.  Even at her young age, Sarah had secrets.  Deep ones.  And she would not confide about them to anyone but her brother.  It was odd, certainly, but it seemed to fit her somehow.  Just one more piece of the puzzle that was Sarah.

For a moment, Rayne thought she might reconsider, but then she shook her head.  No.  Not tonight.  Tonight we should be happy, not sad.  Yet she said the words as if the weight of the world was weighing upon her.

Unable to stop himself, Rayne reached out and placed his hand on Sarah's shoulder.  Remember, Sarah.  I am your friend.  You can tell me anything.

For a brief moment, her hand strayed to her lower back, her fingers caressing the silken fabric of her gown.  Not...this.  She shook her head.  I am sorry, Rayne.  I am not usually so maudlin.  Especially not at this time of the year.  I think I am simply weary from my first Season, and now Mama is insisting that I dance at least once with Baron Hodge, even though Frost is well and truly opposed to that match.  As am I.  Truly, the man is a horror.

Surely he is not so bad, Rayne replied, reminded once again that though her age might be young, her soul was old.  Likely far older than anyone at Fieldown.

A horror.  She repeated as she shook her head once more.  However I don't wish to speak of him any longer.  Especially not now when you require me to listen to all of your plans for your latest journey.  Persia, isn't it?

Impressed that she had remembered, he nodded.  Exactly.  Italy was wonderful, but I have always wished to see the desert and no one I know is leading an expedition to Egypt just yet.  Or at least no one who will take me with them.

Linking her arm through his, Sarah began to walk with him and once more, Rayne felt something shift inside of him.  He wanted her.  He could not have her.  That was that, and tonight was not the night to burden her with those feelings.  Tonight Rayne needed Sarah to listen.  No one else listened to him the way she did.  No one else understood that he wasn't this hardened man of three and twenty.  No one else realized that his heart had been broken when his father had died and never really healed.  No one but Sarah, that is.

Then we must delay our arrival at the ball and you can tell me all about it.  I shall be ever so cross with you if you don't.  There was a teasing light in her eyes and for a moment, she seemed almost happy.  It was not perfect, but it was enough.  For now, anyway.

So for the better part of an hour, Rayne outlined all of his plans for his grand expedition to Persia and then the Orient after that.  If they were late to his mother's ball, then so be it.  Rayne was with Sarah.  That was all that mattered to him.  And it was likely all that ever would.

Even if he were damned to Hell and back for the desire he felt for her, he would not change a thing.  Sarah was his everything.  Even if she could never really be his.

Chapter One

Late June 1820

Chillton House

London

Lady Sarah Tillsbury's feet barely touched the ground as she waltzed around her mother's London ballroom.  In this very moment, she felt truly lighter than the air itself.  In her mind's eye, she envisioned herself to be as delicate as one of the ballet dancers she had seen on stage several weeks past.  Those women had been so utterly graceful and magical, and now as Sarah twirled in the Earl of Raynecourt's - otherwise known as Rayne - arms, Sarah imagined that she felt much as those dancers had when they pirouetted across the stage.

Sarah had ventured out to the ballet, or rather the ballet d’action, with Rayne only to see for herself what he had been raving about ever since he had returned from the Continent and had regaled everyone who would listen with stories about ballet as an art form and not as part of the lower class opera that much of London's elite enjoyed on a regular basis.  She had been skeptical at first, for often times, events that appealed to Rayne held very little attraction for anyone else given his notoriously scholarly ways.  Even Sarah.  In this case, she felt certain that the great Lord Brook Ellesmere Bexley was wrong in his effusive praise of the ballet as art.  He had even narrowed his eyes at her when she had told him so, though she suspected that had more to do with her use of his full name than anything else. 

Rayne had not been wrong this time, much to Sarah's delight.  In fact, if anything, he had not been effusive enough and now she was just as enamored of the dance as he was.  Which was why as Rayne twirled her across the ballroom floor, Sarah's mind wandered back to those exquisite dancers and that magical night she had spent in Rayne's company.  She only wished that she could have more of those nights - and far more often.

Except that it could not and would not be.  No matter how much she wished otherwise.

Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face for as they waltzed, Rayne looked down upon Sarah and smiled that knowing smile of his.  The very same smile that made her heart squeeze in her chest with longing.  I take it you are having a good time? he asked and she thought that he pulled her a little closer to him than was strictly proper.

I am.  She cast a critical eye around Chillton House's ballroom with its gaudy Caribbean themed decorations.  Bright blues and vibrant yellows mixed with almost blinding greens and deep purples.  Tropical flowers procured from who knew what hothouse covered almost every available surface.  Silver stars twinkled and winked high above the dancers, their metallic surfaces reflecting the candlelight from the twin crystal chandeliers that winked high overhead.  It was lovely - in a way.  Then she rolled her eyes in a manner that she knew Rayne would appreciate.  The decor, however, leaves something to be desired.  It is a bit overdone.

Rayne chuckled deeply, warming Sarah from the inside out.  That is my girl.  So overly dramatic, and more of a country girl at heart than anything.  Not enough brambles and brush scattered about for you, my lady?

I am no such thing, and you well know it.  I simply prefer cooler colors and a less cluttered appearance.  And anyway, now who is being overly dramatic? she teased back, enjoying their easy banter.  If only it could be this way all of the time between them, she would be happy.  Well, perhaps not happy.  To make her truly happy, she would need to find a way to make her secret dream come true.  But content.  Yes, that was a good word to describe her at the moment.  She would take content if she could have nothing else.

I simply know what you like, Rayne countered, smiling down at her with those fire-lit amber eyes of his.  The ones that made woman after woman of the ton swoon with longing.  After all, I have known you since you were practically in leading strings.

Sarah did her best not to show how much his words cut her, for he did not mean them as such.  He was only teasing, as a good friend ought.  Except that Rayne was more to her than a best friend, even if he did not see himself in that fashion.  Instead, she pasted on what she hoped was a bright smile, some of her earlier elation at being in his arms dimming now.  However she resolved not to allow this one moment to ruin her night.  This would likely be one of the last grand balls she would attend at Chillton House and she wished to enjoy the evening.

Know me so well, do you? she replied coyly as the music ended and she allowed Rayne to escort her from the floor and over to a small alcove that was protected by a curtain.  She glanced across the room to locate her brother, but Frost, the current Viscount Chillton, was otherwise occupied with his newly betrothed, Lady Lavinia Tremont, the long-lost granddaughter of the Duke of Annandell.  Not that Frost's attentions to his soon-to-be-wife were any great surprise.  However, his lack of attention to Sarah was quite different indeed - and yet not at the same time.

As of late, Frost had not said much when Rayne had kept company with Sarah, but she knew that was only because Michel Balon, a rather despicable Frenchman who had seduced Lavinia years before, was loose on the streets of London and looking for ways to reclaim Lavinia as his own.  Failing in that goal, there had been some speculation that Balon might strike out at whoever was closest to Frost in an attempt to gain enough leverage to force Lavinia back into his clutches.  Since her brother could not be everywhere at once, Frost had allowed Rayne to stay by Sarah's side far more than was proper for a couple that was not actually courting.  Now, however, with Balon in Newgate the danger was past.  Yet Rayne was still here by Sarah's side and she was uncertain how her brother would react if he saw her keeping company with his best friend.  Likely not very well.

After all, in her brother's world, best friends were suitable for many things, including drinking, whoring, gambling, and racing carriages.  There were not, however, the least bit suitable as potential husbands for said best friend's eldest sister.  No matter how much the sister in question wished otherwise.

Tonight might very well be the last night that Sarah was permitted to keep company with Rayne, so, once she was convinced that Frost was otherwise occupied, she allowed Rayne to lead her into the secluded alcove and tug the curtain closed far enough so that they might enjoy some privacy.  It was highly improper of course, but as a woman of five and twenty, Sarah did not care.  After all, she was nearly on the shelf and likely facing her last Season.  If she did not do something at least slightly shocking now, when would she?

In the dim light, she took a moment to study Rayne now as he worked to adjust the curtain, hoping to commit his face to memory.  In addition to his amber eyes, he had thick, dark hair that was normally rather curly but was currently cut so short that it appeared to stick straight up in the air.  He was possessed of a Roman nose and high, almost cutting cheekbones that often times made him appear more like a pirate than an aristocrat.

Even at the ripe old age of thirty, he was thinner than many of his friends but still well-muscled with a bit of a scholarly look about him, especially when he wore his spectacles, which made sense as he had devoted a great deal of his life to the study of archeology.  When he was not busy womanizing, of course.

Rayne was not referred to as The Earl of Heartbreak by almost all of London because he spent his life buried in books and libraries, after all.

When he was finally finished adjusting the curtain, Rayne turned back towards her and Sarah was surprised to see a frown on his face.  What is wrong with you, Sarah? he all but demanded.  She was taken aback for a moment by his use of her Christian name.  He had not called her by that name in so long that it seemed foreign to hear it on his lips.

With me?  She did her best not to squeak when she spoke, something she did on occasion when she was caught off-guard.  Nothing.  Nothing at all.  She almost asked him the very same question for he had been acting oddly ever since he had returned from the Continent.  At least he was acting oddly with her.  It was one of the first things Sarah had noticed upon his return.

Instead of accepting her answer as she had hoped, Rayne crossed his arms over his rather impressive chest and glared at her instead.  There is something amiss and you well know it.  Now tell me.  Please.  Then, he softened his tone, his face becoming one of worry rather than anger.  Sarah, this is me.  Rayne.  Your 'forever friend' as you once referred to me.  There is nothing you cannot tell me.  You know that.

Oh, but there was so much that Sarah could not tell him, words she did not dare say for fear of irrevocably changing things between them.  Words that had been brewing within her since she was fifteen and he twenty.  It has been a long and difficult Season, Rayne, she offered, knowing that was a rather vague explanation and not likely to satisfy him in the least.

As expected, her words did not seem to mollify him.  And?  He narrowed his eyes in that way of his.  In that moment, if he had begun tapping his foot like a put-out school mistress, she would not have been surprised.

And I am tired.  Sarah did her best not to fidget and instead clasped her hands in front of her as she often did when she felt nervous.  She could not allow him to see how affected and conflicted she was.  I am simply ready to return to Hallowby Grange for the summer.  Nothing more.  As you mentioned earlier, I prefer the country, especially after so long in London.  She prayed that Rayne believed her and let the matter drop.  She did not wish to reveal any more of herself to him, especially not now as there were life-altering decisions she was contemplating at the moment.  Telling him her thoughts would only muddle matters further in her mind.  Not to mention reveal things that she preferred to keep secret.  Forever if she could manage it.

Rayne glared at Lady Sarah Elinore Tillsbury, the one woman he had known all of his life, hoping that she would, for once, behave like another other woman he knew and simply give in to his demands and spill her secrets.  All women did - eventually anyway.  All but Sarah.

For as long as he had known her, she had never behaved as she ought, at least not with him.  With the rest of the world, Sarah was prim and proper, ever the lady and often referred to as The One by all of Society.  The One to emulate in all things.  The One every young lady should aspire to be like.  The one with the best and most proper manners.  Quite simply, The One.

However, with him, she let down her guard and was simply Sarah.  Or she had been in the past.  As of late, however, there were changes in her, changes he did not like.  She was becoming distant with him, putting up walls as she did with the rest of the ton in order to keep them out of her life and to keep herself safe from everyone who would claim a piece of her if they could.  Those walls of hers had gone up between them in recent months during the Balon Affair, as he had come to call the nasty business surrounding his best friend's soon-to-be wife.  And Rayne didn't like it, not one bit.

Then again, there was much that had transpired as of late that Rayne did not like.  He disliked - he would not say hated for that was too strong of a word - that Frost was so enamored of a woman of questionable background like Lavinia that he allowed his sisters - Sarah, Dory and Aurelia - to be put at risk when a blackguard like Balon had come skulking about intending harm to any young woman who had the