The Exception of an Earl (The Valiant Love Regency Romance #16) (A Historical Romance Book): Valiant Love, #16

By Deborah Wilson

Lady Camilla James has a terrible condition—writer's block.

As one of London's most celebrated writers, she's worried about losing the affection of her admirers.

Especially her father.

But her last few books have been rejected by publishers.

What to do?

She's willing to try anything to gain inspiration.

Including spend time with a man she knows her family will never approve of.

Sir William Husher has wanted many things in his life.

Becoming an earl was never one of them.

But with his military career as a spy slowly coming to an end, he's feeling more lost than ever before.

Then Camilla comes into his life and everything seems brighter.

But William is not what he seems.

A darkness clings to him, and if they're ever to find happiness, the darkness must be faced.

Can Camilla find success in both her books and love?

Or has Will's past ruined everything for both of them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deborah Wilson
• Release date: Feb 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393081517

Deborah Wilson

As a young girl, Deborah has been an avid fan of Regency authors such as Jane Austen. Deborah has always been in love with the Regency era. Despite the fact that this era is filled with great social, political, and economic upheavals and happenings, yet there is still plenty of room for episodes of romance happenings. In this era, love was pure. In this era, one can still find men and women who would have the courage to express their love while living amongst strict social customs for courtships. In such times, romantic gestures could be small yet they have a beautiful, meaningful impact. It is Deborah’s desire that through her writings, one will find the courage to love, to profess love and to pursue love. And the reason is simple. Everyone deserves to love and be loved. Pure and simple. Deborah is the author of ❦ VALIANT LOVE ❦ series. While the wealthy and titled men and women of the early nineteenth century were known for their extravagance in dress and decor and the rules that governed ‘polite society’, she wanted this series to focus on something different. Honor. What makes a man or woman honorable and where does love fit into all of this? “Let good be thy fortune and honor thy wealth.” Read and find out now for yourself Sign up now to Deborah’s VIP email list. Why? You will never miss a new release. You will be notified by Deborah personally as soon as her next book is out. →⟫⟫ http://eepurl.com/dHxqRD And please don’t forget to connect with Deborah on facebook. She loves hearing from her readers and sharing her thoughts and writing progress. →⟫⟫ https://www.facebook.com/deborahwilsonbooks

Book preview

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*   *   *

ABOUT THE BOOK

One of Jane Austen’s predecessors was Frances Burney (1752-1840). Burney also tried to publish her work secretly, but her life in the shadows didn’t last long when her father began to spread the word of his daughter’s talent.

Burney was a successful novelist in a time when women were repeatedly told to be quiet. She used her words to open the eyes of readers to the faults of those who were often thought to be perfect—mainly the ton.

One of her successful books was called Camilla (1796).

And while her father disapproved of her aspirations to also write plays, his support of her novels allowed the world to accept her as well.

For a period renowned for their rules on everything from fashion to table etiquette, it surprises me that they would make allowance for a woman if the head of the household did.

Burney’s story is a great example of the power of men and the power of fathers.

And while all fathers have their faults, it’s lovely to know that our Heavenly Father has none.

Please enjoy Husher and Camilla’s story about family, fatherhood, forgiveness, and always, always love.

*   *   *

May 1825, London, England

Lady Camilla James pressed her trembling lips together and fisted her hands in her lap. A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away.

Camilla, please don’t cry, her brother called from the other side of the carriage. I don’t enjoy the sight of feminine tears.

She turned away from the window and glared. Well, perhaps that’s the point of tears. Perhaps it is the reason that when one grows angry or upset, their face turns red and scrunches like a prune! You’re not supposed to enjoy it, Luke. You’re supposed to do something to make it stop.

Why was the world so cruel? The publishers didn’t want her book.

The Earl of Tolkin sat forward and covered Camilla’s hands with his own. Camilla, I’m sorry. His gray eyes softened with sympathy. You can always try again.

But how long will that take? she asked. It took me months to write that book. Months!

The publishers didn’t want her book.

He frowned. Doesn’t it take most writers such an amount of time? I hear that it often takes years.

Years?

Her stomach fell.

She didn’t have years. She wanted to write one soon. She needed a published book before the Season ended. That’s too long!

Too long? He laughed and the tone seemed mocking to her ears though she knew he didn’t mean for it to sound that way. His eyes warmed. Camilla, you sound like a commoner who is in need of money when you are not. You’ve no debts that must be paid, and you receive a generous allowance. Are you sure this isn’t just about your pride?

There was a little pride in it. She loved to write, but she also loved to be adored.

But it was more than that.

Her brother sighed. "Why don’t you write a book like the first one? The Good Father was a great book. Everyone loved it. Mr. Massey said it still sells pretty well."

She didn’t care about sales or money. "Don’t you think I’ve been trying to write another The Good Father? I can’t." It simply wasn’t in her. She’d tried over and over again.

It was a very good book, her brother said. "The way the father arrived at the last minute to save his drowning daughter... That man was a true hero. Every man in England wanted to be the great Mr. Reevas. It was a very touching story. Even now, I hear people make comments at parties like, ‘Well, he’s no Mr. Reevas.’ Your book is an inspiration."

Camilla smiled and then laughed. The tears that began to fall were for a different reason entirely. How easily she forgot how wonderful her brother was. Thank you, Luke.

Her brother leaned back and nodded, clearly glad that he’d accomplished his goal of making her smile. He was a comely man. Most people said they both took after their mother. Their eyes were gray and their hair a golden blond. Camilla’s was darker, almost seeming brown in shadowy places. She was a few inches shorter than her brother but slightly taller than other girls.

Her mother had given her wide hips and skin that browned far too quickly in the sun. Summers were the best and worst of times for Camilla.

Her brother said, It surprises me that you could write such a work. Our own father is no Mr. Reevas, even if he does tell everyone who’ll listen that he was your muse.

Luke had succeeded in banishing her sadness, so she decided to ignore his comment about their father in favor of the happiness that currently resided in her heart. I already told you that Mr. Reevas isn’t a construct of Father but you.

Luke shook his head and laughed. His eyes brightened as a blush covered his face. But I’m not a father.

Well, you’re still my hero. Luke had been there when their own father had not.

Her brother grinned again but then his eyes took on a sadness. That book was the reality you hoped for, wasn’t it? You wanted a father like Mr. Reevas. Even as old as you are now, you still hope for it, don’t you?

Camilla didn’t bother looking away as she nodded. I don’t care about the public, Luke. She smiled as excitement bubbled in her chest. Did you see how pleased Father was when the book first sold? He was so happy. He was around often and took me to nearly every ball that year.

Luke leaned forward and squeezed her hand again. His eyes were hard once more. Cammie, listen to me, you must stop. If you wish to write a good book then write it for yourself, but don’t write it for him. Father... He’ll never be Mr. Reevas.

But he can be; he was before. I know he can be again. He was so kind to me after the first book. He was always there—

He used you, and he’ll use you again if you allow it.

Camilla yanked her hand from her brother’s grasp. You don’t know that and how could you say that? He spends all his time with you, his heir, his firstborn. Camilla often saw the Marquess of Hornstein at parties, but he didn’t speak to her unless she approached. He only came to visit her during the holidays and even then, it was for less than an hour.

It was her mother who drove him away with her weeping and bitterness. She drove everyone away with her anger, even Luke. He only bothered to step into their house to see Camilla and only when he suspected their mother had taken a sleeping aid.

Camilla had grown up feeling anger and pain on her mother’s behalf. She’d spent the better part of the last ten years trying to make her mother happy. The entire ton knew her father lived with his mistress.

Lord Hornstein didn’t care about the gossip and how it would follow his family, yet ten years later, Camilla desperately wanted to shake her mother and tell her to get over it.

But she didn’t because deep down, she knew she was just like her mother. Camilla couldn’t let go. It didn’t matter how many times Luke told her to move on and be happy, Camilla’s one goal in life was to get her father back.

And then maybe he could fix their broken family.

You think I enjoy spending time with him? Luke asked. Especially after the way he treated Mother and you? I tolerate him because he still has the power to write me out of his will. Upon his death, I can gain an empty title if he is displeased. He could leave everything with Julia and Morgana. Then where would that leave you and Mother?

Julia Walker was their father’s mistress. Morgana was their young half-sister.

Camilla frowned. Thank you for thinking of us.

Of course, you are my sister. He smiled. I would never leave you.

The carriage stopped in front of the white brick townhouse Camilla shared with her mother, and her stomach turned with anxiety. Luke had taken her to the publisher and now he was returning her home.

You can come over, Luke said. I have some business to attend to, but I’m sure Emily would be glad for the visit.

Camilla really liked Luke’s wife. Emily was kind and warm and always put a smile on her brother’s face. They’d been married for less than a year, but in that time, the two women had formed a friendship. Yes, please.

Luke arranged for the carriage to make its way to the other side of Mayfair, and Camilla took an easy breath. She couldn’t avoid home forever, but she needed time to think.

She needed to write a new book.

Maybe I could continue to write about Mr. Reevas. It was an idea she’d had for some time.

Her brother shook his head. No, I’d be afraid of what would happen if you ruin him. He cringed at his own bluntness. Sorry. I mean...

No, you’re right. The book still sells well. If I ruin the character then that could change.

Luke’s eyes widened. "The Good Father was a book built on your hopes. Why don’t you do that again? What do you hope for? You’re twenty-three. Don’t you wish to marry? To find love? Lord Nelson has been asking after you again."

She ignored the comment about Nelson. The man was Luke’s most boring acquaintance. They would never suit. You think I should write a romance? she asked instead.

She’d never done that before, though she did think herself quite romantic. She enjoyed watching people fall in love. She liked the looks Luke and Emily shared in private. But there were a hundred things that stopped her. Do you think Father would read a romance?

She regretted the question immediately.

Don’t do this for Father. Do it for you, because you enjoy writing.

She nodded. He was right.

And if it was a success then perhaps...

Camilla opened her purse and took out her pencil and journal. She would write a romance, which meant she’d need a leading male and a leading lady. She didn’t want to think about the woman at the moment, so she focused on the man.

What would her hero look like? What did his voice sound like? She focused and then wrote, green eyes and blond hair.

She’d always liked green eyes. Ones that matched vibrant forests or wet moss.

Actually, Camilla like most colors on most men. Men were so fascinating, especially the attractive ones. She enjoyed watching them swagger across ballrooms and listening to them laugh.

She liked the way a few smiled at her, their lips turned up, their eyes hiding secret desires.

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks and dipped her head as she bit her lip. She didn’t want her brother to know she’d been fantasizing about men, which she often did.

A flutter went off in her heart. She was writing a romance and for the first time in years, she was excited.

∫  ∫  ∫

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*   *   *

Sir William Husher grunted as the ropes that bound his arms around the thin tree were tightened. The ones that held his feet were tested once more before his captor came back around and smiled in his face.

Got you, Mr. Hennison said.

Will was actually grateful for the ropes. They were the only thing currently keeping him on his feet. At least when he died, he wouldn’t have to stare up at anyone.

Even now, Mr. Hennison was forced to tilt his chin up just a little.

Will kept his expression stoic. It seems you have me at an advantage, Mr. Hennison. He didn’t bother testing the ropes. The man was a former sailor. If there was anything he excelled at, it was tying rope.

Otherwise, Will thought Mr. Hennison’s mind a rather dull place. Will had been following the criminal around for the better part of two months and had even been sleeping in the man’s home.

Mr. Hennison hadn’t known until this morning when a maid had come into the guest room that hadn’t been disturbed since long before Husher’s arrival.

Husher had tried to charm the lass into the bed with him—purely to keep her quiet—but she’d screamed.

Hennison had a friend on the way for a visit, which was why the maid had come to clean the room that had otherwise been left untouched. Will could only assume this friend was an accomplice to Mr. Hennison’s many sinister deeds.

The man sold British secrets to their enemies, betraying his own country in favor of money.

I’m going to kill you, Hennison said.

I imagine you will. Will grinned at the man’s irritated look. What? Am I supposed to fear you? He’d been beating Will for the last hour.

It pained Will to smile, but he did, nonetheless.

In truth, he wanted to live, but he wouldn’t give this man the satisfaction of knowing it.

The fist that struck his gut stole his breath. Will would have fallen over were it not for his bindings, but alas...

First, you’re going to tell me who sent you and what you know, Hennison said. Then I’m going to kill you.

Will said nothing but only because he was still fighting for air.

Who sent you? Hennison asked.

Will took a deep breath. Your father-in-law sent me. He said he wanted his daughter to meet a real man.

He was struck again and spots glittered in his vision. The pain was great and spread.

Who sent you? Hennison shouted.

It took a moment for Will to find his words. Saint Nicholas.

Who?

Twas the Night before Christmas, when all through the house—

Hennison’s fist slammed into his jaw, and Will tasted his own blood. The metal flavor filled his mouth. He choked and spat in the man’s face.

Then Will laughed. Not a fan of poetry, are you? He’d wanted to see his enemy painted in blood; he’d just assumed that it would have been Hennison’s. Not his.

A small part of Will thought he wouldn’t mind death. He supposed his job was significant to those who employed him, but he could easily be replaced by someone else. Very few would mourn him.

Hennison wiped his face with the back of his hand and then placed a blade at Will’s rib.

He stiffened and cursed himself for giving Hennison a reaction.

The former yeoman laughed. I’ve only known for you for little more than an hour and already I hate you.

My mother always said other men would hate me and that I was far too attractive for my own good. What is it about me, I wonder? Could it be my eyes? Women love my eyes. My mother compared them to serpentine. Have you ever heard of the stone?

You mean the river?

Husher took a breath. He was stalling and hoping his friends came for him. Yes, the river has glimpses of the color as well, but I speak about the stone. It’s more like that green you can sometimes see on the edge of the water. Soft. Translucent. It makes women think they can see down to the very depths of my soul. As though he had one.

I’m done threatening you, Hennison hissed. Perhaps it’s time you learn how serious I am. He pushed the blade in just a little.

And then more.

Will’s breaths came quickly. He tried to move away. He didn’t want to die.

He wanted to live.

Suddenly, Hennison dropped to the ground at his feet.

Will’s mouth fell open and he smiled. It’s about time you men showed up. I... His words trailed off as he lifted his head.

It wasn’t Dutton and Morris staring back at him.

It was Mr. Trouble.

Noah Trouble.

The younger man held a brick in his hand. His gaze fell upon Hennison for a moment.

Will wondered if the boy planned to turn the brick on him. He didn’t relax until the brick hit the ground.

Noel lifted his dark gaze. I’ve been looking for you.

Husher was surprised. Very few men could track him, which was something he took pride in. That a seventeen-year-old had managed to discover his whereabouts was... humiliating.

Light caught the small gold hoop in Noel’s ear. It had been gifted to him by a woman the young man had once saved. That woman had married Noel’s uncle and became Noel’s aunt.

Lady Vita.

Will had saved Lady Vita as well and decided that moment a fine time to remind Noel of that fact. How is Lady Vita? I pray she and the general are well?

Noel approached him and grabbed the blade still sticking out of Will’s side.

Noel slowly withdrew the blade, and Will pressed his lips together to avoid crying out in pain.

Noel crossed his arms and tipped his head. Well, well, well, this seems familiar.

No need to live in the past, Husher said with a bright smile.

Noel ignored him. Although, if I recall correctly, you didn’t find me tied up to a tree. He pointed the blade at Husher. You were the one who tied me up.

For your own good. I didn’t want you getting in the way. In a lower tone, he added, I didn’t want to kill you.

You stabbed me.

You stabbed me back. Last year, while attending a dinner party given by the Duke of Van Dero, the duke had ordered Will be held down so that Noel could get his revenge. We’re even.

I want my horse, Noel said.

Will rolled his eyes. This again? Listen, the horse is mine. You gave it to me in exchange for your aunt’s protection. I’m not giving it back.

Noel narrowed his eyes. Are you insane? You’re tied up. The man on the ground may wake up at any moment and kill you. I may very well be your only way out of this situation and still, you won’t give me the horse!

The horse is mine.

Midnight is mine! My uncle bought Midnight for me. It was a gift to me. A costly gift.

Will gave the boy a look he hoped conveyed his pity. Listen, Noel. I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this but... life isn’t fair. Get over it. The horse is mine. You should sleep well knowing I take fine care of her.

Him! Noel said.

Will gasped. Him, you say? No wonder he’s been prone to following mares. He smiled. Now, are you going to finish what that man started or...?

Noel stepped back and then dropped the blade about a foot away from Will.

Will’s eyes dropped to the metal tool on the ground even as Noel continued to speak. I already know where Midnight is. I’m taking her. I was just trying to give you the chance to redeem yourself, but everyone is right. You’re stubborn.

Will tried to ignore Noel’s words, but they lingered even as the young man wandered deeper into the forest.

He sucked his teeth when he heard the neigh of the beautiful stallion right before it trotted away at full speed.

Husher tried the ropes. They wouldn’t give. He started to wiggle his foot out of his boot and felt some give there. He smiled.

Then he heard a groan and looked at Hennison. The man was waking up.

Will cursed again and fought down his growing fear even as he continued to work his foot out of the boot.

He freed his limb just as Hennison made it onto his hands and knees.

I’m going to kill you, his assailant groaned.

Husher closed his toes around the handle of the blade, fought down the smile that came with his jolt of happiness, and slipped the blade behind him.

Hennison stood, but he was weak on his feet.

Will had no clue what he was talking about and mostly ignored him as he managed to lift the blade behind him and meet his hands.

The moment he was free, he struck Hennison and didn’t relax until the man was tied up.

He laughed once he was on his feet again. Got you, he said to Hennison, giving the man back his own words.

Then something hit his head and everything went black.

∫  ∫  ∫

0 3

*   *   *

Will awoke with a start but didn’t move. He opened his eyes and took in the molding on the ceiling and then the scent of roses in the air. He turned his head and a blue Chinese vase displayed the source of the pleasant smell.

A look around the matching room told him where he was.

A man on the other side of the room hummed to himself as he looked through a black leather bag. The sound of glasses clinking together told him what was inside the bag.

Potions.

Will laid back down and closed his eyes. He was safe. Mostly.

He heard footsteps as they came closer and then the voice of Dr. Christian Sparrow. Are you up? You’ve been sleeping for hours, which is a fact I find humor in since most people had begun to wonder if you slept at all.

I sleep. Barely.

You don’t look like it. You’re looking rather thin. Well, not thin like small. That would be impossible for a man your size but smaller than when I last saw you. Have you been missing meals? Been feeling ill as of late?

I haven’t missed your need to speak out your every thought. Will opened his eyes.

Christian smiled. Hello, old friend. I’ve bandaged you up. Remarkable that the man stabbed you in the same spot that you stabbed young Mr. Trouble. Some would say the heavens are at work, but I think...

Will sat up and nearly fainted but then pain struck him in the head and his side. He looked down at the bandage that was wrapped around his torso.

You’ve another around your head, Christian said. Someone hit you pretty hard.

Noel.

No, not Noel. It was one of Mr. Hennison’s friends. The duke told me what he had on the gentlemen in his files. I can’t understand why you’d go after someone so terrible.

That’s kind of what I do, go after terrible people. Will closed his eyes and took deep breaths to fight down his nausea. Where is Hennison?

Van Dero is holding him in the cellar. The cellar was the duke’s personal prison. You can take him when you leave, whenever that is.

He was surprised Van Dero would help him but didn’t say as much. Why am I here?

A thank you would do. Will lifted his brow.

Will bit the inside of his cheek. "Thank you. I believe I know how you found me—Noel —but why am I in the duke’s London manor?"

Van Dero wishes to speak to you. I believe he has a job for you.

I no longer work for the duke. Will moved to get up, but Christian placed a hand on his shoulder.

Stay. Rest. I’ll get the duke. Take this while I’m gone.

Will took the blue bottle from Christian’s hand. What’s this going to make me do?

Keep your accounts should the urge to empty your belly present itself.

Will stood the moment Christian closed the door and, having no desire to vomit, he swallowed down the doctor’s concoction. He frowned when he noticed he was in nothing but his smallclothes. A look around the room proved all his other possessions were gone.

He cursed and turned as the door opened.

The duke strolled in, walked right past him, and sat down.

Will cautiously turned to face him. Where are my clothes?

You’ve been mighty reckless as of late, Van Dero said. Since leaving my employ, you’ve taken on some very risky jobs. I know. I’ve been watching you. The duke had hazel eyes. His expression was stern enough to make Will want to shift his stance.

He didn’t like to be addressed this way. He was a grown man and Van Dero had no right. Why would you bother watching over me? It’s a waste of good money. But he was glad to know Noel hadn’t found him on his own. His embarrassment vanished.

I watch you for Raven, because he asked me to.

Gabriel Raven was Will’s best friend, but they’d rarely spoke since Will left Van Dero’s service. The man Will worked for didn’t want his secrets in the duke’s hands.

Do you wish for death? the duke asked. Because Noel’s account of yesterday’s events says that you do.

Yesterday?

Will looked out the window. The sun was setting. He’d thought it was the same day but apparently not.

I’ll grab Hennison and be on my way. And then, because he knew he had to say it, he whispered, Thank you. He turned to leave but then remembered he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Your clothes will be returned to you in a few days, the duke said. For now, you’ll rest.

But... Will whipped around—too quickly—and groaned.

You need to rest, Cassius said. And I still require an answer to my question.

Cassius was the duke’s name. Most of the people close to him called him that.

Will didn’t. He’d tried it once and Van Dero had given him a foreboding look.

He could probably beat the duke at a fight. The man was in his late thirties and built like a brute. He’d grown up fighting for his life, but Will was confident he’d still win.

Van Dero nodded. Well, that answers that.

What answers what?

That look. Your gaze was disrespectful.

I have plenty of respect for you. I respect you more than most. And he did. Will actually liked the duke. Much of the ton didn’t because of his humble beginnings, but since he’d inherited the title, he’d done a wealth of good for the citizens of Britain.

Will was a former soldier. He’d earned his knighthood in battle along with Raven. He could easily take orders from a good leader and the duke had a great team. But Will also needed to do things his way and for himself. Working for Van Dero got in the way of his own goals.

I’m glad to hear you respect me, Van Dero said. So, I’ll respect you by not asking the name of the gentleman you work for.

Will narrowed his eyes. He’d led everyone close to Van Dero to believe he was taking assassin jobs from anyone who could afford him. He didn’t like Van Dero’s assumption that Will was only working for one man. Because that was true, or at least close to the truth. Why am I here?

I need you to do something for me, the duke said.

You’ve nearly a hundred people working with you and under you, Will said. You’ve soldiers, peers, and most of the staff are trained to put a man down were he to attempt to hurt your family.

And you were once one of them.

Will turned his gaze to the fireplace. Once he turned Mr. Hennison over, his superior would give him a few weeks off. That was the case for every mission.

And he did respect the duke.

I might have time for you, Will eventually said. But why me?

I would ask someone else, but... it’s dangerous and you seem to be leaning toward that kind of work at the moment.

So, you’re saying I’m expendable. Will chuckled. He’d just been thinking the same thing about himself the other day. He was a good soldier and nothing more. And the one time he’d tried to be more, it had been too late.

Van Dero told Will what he would be paid if he took the assignment. Will didn’t care for money, but only a fool would turn down that much money. Or someone who had very few reasons to live.

The other men I trust with this assignment all have something to live for, the duke said. They have families that depend on them.

I get it. I have no one. What do you want me to do? I’m not killing anyone.

Van Dero frowned but then shook his head and sighed. I’m sure you’re aware that my people no longer kill, at least not intentionally. Your friend Raven runs my prison. Don’t pretend you didn’t know and that you haven’t been there. I know you’ve visited him on occasion. I take no issue with your friendship. I know you can keep your mouth shut, otherwise, I wouldn’t be hiring you now.

Will settled his heart. He’d been prepared to lie. It was a relief that he didn’t have to.

Van Dero stood. This is an assignment that had to be set aside while we cleared up that mess with The Circle. The Circle had been a brotherhood determined to exploit the weak in favor of wealth. It’s top priority now.

Will braced.

I’m looking for the Queen of Poisons.

His mouth fell open. This was a dangerous mission.

Will shook his head. Anyone who goes after her dies. Poison was hard to detect even when you were being careful. A little splash into your cup at a party of your stew at a tavern could be the end of you. She’ll try to kill me.

"I know, which is why