A Season for Honour: Fallbrook Brothers 1

By Liese Anning

Octavia Sorrell, the Countess of Kendall, had been forced into marriage by her father and brother when she was only fifteen years old. Just after her sixteenth birthday, she gave birth to twins. Two years later, after Lord Kendall’s demise, and fearing the gossip surrounding his scandalous death, she began to live the life of a recluse. When Charles was ten years old, Octavia realises that he is woefully underprepared for the vigours of an education at Eton. Charles’ guardian, persuades Octavia to employ a tutor for her son, to prepare him for school.
Captain Alexander Fallbrook, after returning a hero from the battle of Waterloo, was living the life of a libertine. He is still haunted by events in his past that happened when he was a prisoner four years ago. His family, embarrassed by his latest exploits, decided that the best course of action was to send him far away from London. He goes to the wilds of Yorkshire, far away from the temptations of town, to tutor a young lad. When Alex arrives in Yorkshire, he meets the beautiful young countess and decides that his time in the country may not be as dull as he first thought. Expecting a brief dalliance with a beautiful widow and no emotional ties, he soon finds that his heart is engaged.
Can Alex overcome the years of guilt, or will he be unable to let go of the past to embrace his future?
Will Octavia be able to lay aside the spectre of her previous marriage and trust Alex?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liese Anning
• Release date: Jun 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463246191

Liese Anning

Liese Anning lives in the idyllic county of Devon, UK, with her husband and a rather destructive basenji. When her little dog allows her, she loves nothing more than to read books about history and image what it would be like to travel back in time. Consequently, Liese has often got herself into many a scrape because of her constant daydreaming.

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A Season for Honour (Fallbrook brothers 1)

Liese Anning

A Season for Honour © 2020 by Liese Anning. Smashwords Edition. All Rights Reserved.

A Season for Honour

Copyright 2020 Liese Anning

Published by Liese Anning at Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. 

Cover designed Liese Anning

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. 

Liese Anning 

First Printing: June 2020

Table of Contents

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

Prologue

Hillcroft Seminary for Young Ladies

Autumn 1806

‘Happy Birthday, Octavia,’ Katie said excitedly, ‘do you like your present?’

‘I adore it, Katie,’ Octavia said as she gave her friend a hug, ‘it is beautiful, and it is the loveliest gift I have ever received. Please help me put it on,’ she said, taking the small oval-shaped gold locket out of its simple box and handing it to her friend.

It was Octavia Stretton’s fifteenth birthday, and she had spent weeks looking forward to the celebrations. In fact, if the truth were known, she had been counting down the days until she could celebrate her birthday in style. The event would happen in the senior common room at the Hillcroft Seminary for Young Ladies, with all her classmates in attendance.

For most of the year, Hillcroft was a quiet and reserved place, filled with well-behaved young ladies between the ages of eight and eighteen. Miss Howell, the somewhat austere headmistress and owner of the school, had two guiding principles: order and discipline. And the overall ethos of the school reflected its leader’s strict moral code. When she had founded the school, she had one objective in mind; to transform little girls, with all their youthful exuberances, into fashionable and sedate young ladies. Ladies, who in time, would take their place in society as obedient wives and mothers. She believed a girl’s education must reflect their future position in society. Of course, her pupils must be able to read and write and have the fundamental mathematical skills necessary to run a household. But, in her opinion, fashionable ladies required only a rudimentary academic education. She had organised the curriculum with those principles dominating her choice of subjects taught at the school.

Even though the formidable Miss Howell was a strict disciplinarian, she did not want to be known amongst her charges as a tyrant. She knew, from her vast experience of being a headmistress, that every now and again, the girls in her charge needed to enjoy themselves and occasionally indulge their high spirits. Therefore, she allowed them to have a small party on their birthday. On these special occasions, the girls could eat vast quantities of cake without censure and play their choice of parlour games, even if they became a little rowdy. The girls always looked forward to these treats for weeks in advance, as they were often the highlight of a very dull term. Today, it was Octavia’s turn to act as the hostess for her own party, and she was looking forward to treating her friends.

Katie, Octavia’s best friend and confidant, fastened the locket around her friend’s neck. ‘Let me see,’ Katie said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. ‘It is lovely. I knew it would suit you.’

Octavia touched the locket with her fingers and looked at her. ‘Katie,’ she said as a few tears sprung into the corner of her eyes, ‘it is lovely, thank you.’

The door of the common room opened and a maid, slowly walked into the room, carrying a large cake. As soon as the maid had placed the plate carefully in front of Octavia, the senior girls rushed over. They then crowded around the table in an excited huddle.

‘Cut the cake,’ Flora, another of Octavia’s friends, said impatiently, ‘and make sure that the slices are enormous. I am famished.’

Octavia took the knife and looked at her classmate. ‘Flora Jenkins,’ she said with mock hauteur, ‘you will just have to be patient like everyone else.’

As Octavia was slicing the cake and handing out the large, generous portions to her classmates, the door to the common room opened. The excited chatter that had almost been deafening stopped abruptly when Miss Howell entered. ‘Octavia, my dear,’ she said earnestly, ‘forgive my intrusion, but you must come to my office immediately.’

‘Oh!’ Octavia said, a lump developing in the pit of her stomach. The excitement of the day had suddenly vanished, leaving her feeling empty and apprehensive. ‘Katie, can you take over and give everyone a slice of cake.’

‘What have you done?’ Flora said, after swallowing a large mouthful of cake. ‘It must be serious. The owl only ever calls you to her office if she is furious with you. I should know.’

‘Oh, do be quiet Flo,’ Katie said, annoyed at the tactless comment of her classmate. ‘You do say the most ridiculous things. We all know that Octavia never does anything wrong, unlike you.’

There was another burst of excited chatter, while the girls continued to speculate on all the reasons why Octavia could have been summoned to the headmistress’ office.

‘I had better go,’ Octavia said nervously, turning to Katie, ‘I do not want to keep Miss Howell waiting.’

Katie smiled at her and touched her arm gently. ‘All will be well,’ she said reassuringly, ‘you will see.’

But how could it all be well? Octavia thought to herself as she walked with trepidation down the corridor towards Miss Howell’s office. What had she done that could have caused her to be summoned to a private meeting?

Once she had arrived and stood outside the door, she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. But, as hard as she tried, she could not think of a reason why she had been summoned. Just like Katie said, she always behaved herself, and to her knowledge, she had never broken any of Hillcroft’s countless rules intentionally.

As she slowly raised her hand to knock on the door, she paused and listened to the raised voices that she could hear quarrelling inside the room. One of the voices she could hear was the familiar voice of Miss Howell. ‘This is outrageous,’ Octavia heard her thunder, ‘Miss Stretton is only fifteen years old, and has another two years left at Hillcroft.’

Octavia, overcoming the anxiety she felt, knocked quietly on the door. The angry voices stopped immediately, and she heard the familiar voice of Miss Howell, commanding her to enter. She opened the handle slowly and walked into the room. Miss Howell, who looked at her very seriously, motioned for her to enter. ‘Ah, Octavia, my dear,’ she said in a soft, calm voice, ‘please come in and shut the door.’

Octavia immediately obeyed the command and walked across the room towards Miss Howell’s large and imposing desk. As she sauntered across the carpet, she observed two men sitting in chairs opposite Miss Howell’s desk. Both men, who were apparently gentlemen of fashion, turned around to look at her as she crossed the room. She felt self-conscious as they looked her up and down with a critical eye. The younger of the two, seemed to be sneering at her, and she could not fail to notice the look of utter contempt he was giving her.

Octavia thought that there was something familiar about both men. The older gentleman was now staring at her with a look of derision in his eyes. There was something recognisable in those cold grey eyes that continued to critically examine her as she moved towards him. But, however much she tried to will herself to remember where she had seen them before, she could not recall where it had been.

Once she had walked the length of the office, she stood in front of Miss Howell’s desk with her hands nervously clasped behind her back. ‘Octavia,’ Miss Howell said, after what felt like an eternity, ‘do you recognise these gentlemen?’

Octavia, unable to find her voice, just shook her head and looked down, fixing her gaze on the pattern on the carpet that was just in front of her feet.

‘This is your father, Sir Augustus Stretton, and your elder brother Mr Fabian Stretton.’

‘Papa,’ Octavia managed to say, in a voice that was barely above a whisper as she looked up at the stranger, who was still looking at her contemptuously. She could not remember the last time she had seen him. It must have been over ten years since he had left the family home in Somersetshire, to take up residence in London, after the unexpected death of his wife, Octavia’s mother. During those intervening years, there had been no communication between them. He was a stranger to her.

‘Your father has come to take you back home,’ Miss Howell said, her voice shaking with emotion.

‘Take me home?’ Octavia repeated in a whisper, ‘but, I am home.’

Miss Howell stood up and walked around the desk and stood next to Octavia. She then took both her hands in her own and turned her around so that Octavia was facing her. ‘Oh, my dear, dear girl,’ the older woman said as tears welled up in her eyes, ‘your father has come to take you away to your new home.’

‘My new home?’ Octavia asked her eyes wide. Then she added, with a hint of desperation in her voice, ‘but, when will I return?’

‘My dear,’ she said, her voice shaking slightly, ‘you will not be returning. Once you have packed all your possessions, you will be leaving Hillcroft with your father and brother. You have always been a good girl and...’ Miss Howell took a step back and released her hands. Then the headmistress took a deep breath and composed herself. ‘Now,’ she said, the familiar voice of command had returned to her voice, ‘be a good girl and obey your father. He will know what is best for your future. Go, start packing. I will fetch Katie. She will help you pack your belongings.’

In a little over an hour, after being summoned to Miss Howell’s office, Octavia was sitting in her father’s carriage opposite her father and brother. In her hands, she clasped a piece of her own birthday cake that had been wrapped up in a handkerchief and thrust into her hands by Flora as she was leaving Hillcroft. It had been an emotional farewell. All her classmates had gathered outside the front entrance of the school to say their final farewells. She had watched them through her tears, as they stood outside the front of the school waving. She had continued to look at them until they had disappeared entirely from her view. Octavia was unable to stop the steady stream of tears that were spilling down her cheeks and falling onto the folds of her cloak. It broke her heart to think that she would never see her dearest friends again.

‘I do wish you would stop bawling,’ her brother said harshly as the carriage joined the main road, ‘we have a long journey ahead of us, and I do not think I could put up with your snivelling for another minute.’

Octavia, however much she tried, could not stop the tears that were flowing down her cheeks. In the space of one hour, her happy, contented life, had been snatched away from her. ‘Your brother is right,’ her father said icily as he leant towards her so that she could see his face in the half-light of the setting sun. ‘Stop crying,’ he ordered harshly.

‘Do you think he’ll have her?’ her brother said, looking at her critically, but not talking to her. ‘She ain’t up to much, is she? Far too small and skinny to arouse any man’s interest.’

‘Fabian,’ his father said, a crooked smile on his lips, ‘she is perfect for him. Absolutely perfect. All he wants is an heir, and she is old enough to provide him with one of those.’

Octavia looked at them, her eyes still wet with tears. She did not understand the meaning of their conversation and the tone they used frightened her. Surely, they could not be talking about her. But, as she looked at them fearfully, she was aware that they were both still examining her coldly. ‘I do not understand?’ she said after she had summoned up the courage to address both her father and brother. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘In three days, my dear girl,’ her father said, still looking at her with a cold expression in his eyes, ‘you are to be married.’

‘Married,’ Octavia said, looking at him blankly, ‘but I am only fifteen years old. I do not want to get married; I want to return to Hillcroft. Please, Papa, let me go back.’

‘You, my girl, will do as you are told,’ he replied roughly, his voice devoid of compassion.

‘But, Papa, I will not…’ She felt a crack across her face and then a stinging pain. It was the first time in her life that she had been struck by another person, and it hurt. She put her hand to her cheek and looked at him with wounded eyes.

‘You, young lady, will do as you are told,’ he said through gritted teeth, as he reached across the carriage and took her wrist, holding it tightly. ‘Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Papa,’ she whispered, wincing with the pain, ‘yes. You are hurting me. Please let me go.’

Her father released her wrist and sat back. ‘Then, stop blabbing,’ he ordered unfeelingly. ‘Otherwise, I will stop the carriage, and have you thrashed.’

Octavia stared at her father in disbelief. He looked a lot older than she remembered, though her memories of him had faded over the years. She remembered him as a kind and gentle man; a man who loved his wife and children and had never used harsh words when he had spoken to them. She remembered how he had been inconsolable when his beloved wife, Octavia’s mother, had died unexpectedly in a riding accident. She remembered how he had disappeared to London the day after her death, not even returning for the funeral. She had not seen him since the dreadful day of the accident. It was hard to believe, as she sat and watched him warily across the carriage, that this was the same man who used to kiss her tenderly on the cheek every night before going to bed and tell her stories of faraway lands.

‘Papa,’ she whispered, addressing him using the familiar word of endearment that she used to call him all those years ago. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

Her father sat back and looked out of the window, ignoring her question. Her brother, Fabian Stretton, who was seven years her senior, just laughed. Octavia realised as she examined his face in the half-light of dusk, that if she had not been formally introduced to him by Miss Howell, she would have never recognised him as the brother she had once known and loved. He had changed beyond recognition since she had last seen him, a year before her mother’s death when he was about to go to school.

After he had stopped laughing, he looked at her. ‘You, my dear sister, are going to save this family from ruin.’

‘Ruin?’ Octavia repeated. ‘Fabian, I do not understand.’

‘You are going to repay a debt of honour,’ he said, looking at her contemptuously.

Octavia continued to stare back at him. ‘Fabian,’ she said in disbelief, ‘I still do not understand.’

‘When our parent’s married,’ he began with a flourish, ‘our mother’s father, our maternal grandfather, put aside money for our mother as part of her settlements. He did not trust our own father with all his money, and he wanted to know that she would be provided for if the marriage ended prematurely. He put aside a sizeable fortune, in trust, that would be released if the marriage ceased. If she predeceased him, which as you know she did, the money would be held in trust for any daughters, she might have. You, my dear little sister, are her only daughter. Therefore, the money is held in trust for you until your twenty-fifth birthday, or, of course, your marriage. You, believe it or not, are an heiress, and you should be grateful to us because we have done you a service by finding you a suitable husband.’

‘But, Fabian,’ she whispered, ‘I am not yet out of the schoolroom.’

‘Your age does not signify,’ he said dismissively, ‘with your father’s consent, you can be legally married at fifteen. As soon as you are wed, all the money that has been held in trust will belong to your husband. He has agreed to provide us with a generous portion of your inheritance as soon as he has the money.’

Octavia looked at her brother and only saw a cold, unsympathetic expression in his eyes. ‘Who is my husband to be?’ she said.

‘Miles Sorrell, the Earl of Kendall,’ her brother replied, ‘we are travelling directly to his estate in Yorkshire. Upon our arrival, you will marry him by special license.’

‘Is he aware of my age?’ Octavia asked. ‘I cannot believe a respectable gentleman would agree to marry a mere schoolgirl.’

Fabian laughed again, but it was a cold and hollow laugh and one that put fear in Octavia. ‘Of course, he does. All he wants from you is for you to provide him with a son and heir, and believe me, you are old enough to do that.’

Octavia looked out of the carriage window, watching the evening sky that still glowed faintly with an orange hue from the setting sun. As she watched the light fade away and disappear into the darkness, it reminded her of the life that she was leaving behind. It was a bleak future that stretched out in front of her. A future that was devoid of any hope. Her happy world at Hillcroft had ended abruptly, and all her dreams had slipped away from her. She wanted to cry, but she knew from her brother’s and father’s warning that tears would not be tolerated. The piece of cake that Flora had thrust into her hand as she was about to leave slipped off her lap. It now lay in a trampled mess on the carriage floor. It reminded Octavia of her hopes and dreams for the future that she had once cherished.

Chapter 1

September 1817

‘Octavia,’ Katie said firmly, ‘Charles needs a tutor.’

‘I know, Katie,’ Octavia Sorrell, the Countess of Kendall, said as she sighed loudly in agreement with her old friend. ‘He is already ten years old, and next year I will have to send him, with the greatest reluctance, to Eton. And I am fully aware of how woefully unprepared he is for school.’

Octavia was sitting in the drawing-room of her best friend, Lady Katherine Sommerville. The two women had known each other since they had met at the Hillcroft Seminary for Young Ladies, but they had lost touch for nearly ten years after Octavia had left school unexpectedly to marry the 6th Earl of Kendal. ‘Octavia,’ Katie said with a sigh, ‘why did you dismiss the curate, Mr Dowle? Freddie said that he was intelligent and eminently qualified to teach Charles. He did get a first in Theology at Oxford,’ Katie said, leaning back in her chair. 

‘Obviously, they do not teach manners at Oxford,’ Octavia said primly, ‘I think he is a churlish man, and on top of that, he is also a disagreeable bully.’

‘Oh dear,’ Katie said, looking concerned, ‘I know he comes across as a bit of a bore, but he is surely not that bad!’

‘Katie,’ Octavia said, looking at her friend seriously, ‘I could put up with him in my house if being a bit dull was his only problem. Unfortunately, he has far more serious character flaws.’

‘I am afraid that Freddie will be furious,’ Katie replied, furrowing her brow, ‘Mr Dowle was the only local tutor he could find.’

‘I know he sounded suitable in every way. He lives in the village and has excellent qualifications. Everything about him seemed to be perfect. However, I have since discovered that he is not suitable to tutor Charles,’ Octavia said, leaning forward and patting her old friend’s hand. ‘Anyway,’ she said with a bright smile, ‘I cannot imagine Freddie furious. A little annoyed maybe, but never furious.’

‘Does he know?’ Katie asked, leaning back in her chair once more.

‘No, not yet,’ Octavia said, sighing once more. ‘But I suppose it will only be a matter of time before Mr Dowle tells him what happened this morning.’

‘I suppose that Freddie can tutor Charles,’ Katie said, furrowing her brow in contemplation. ‘Yes,’ she said after she had given it some extra thought, ‘I think that would be an excellent idea. He could go to Northleigh every morning and give Charles his lessons.’

‘Absolutely not!’ Octavia replied forcefully.

‘Why ever not?’ Katie said, looking a little hurt at Octavia’s forceful reply.

‘Katie,’ Octavia said gently, leaning towards her friend and patting her on the arm, ‘I will not have Freddie feeling obliged to come all the way to Northleigh every day. I do not want him to wear himself out on my account.’

‘And how am I going to wear myself out?’ The cheerful voice of Sir Frederick Sommerville said from the door of the drawing-room.

‘Oh, Freddie,’ Katie said, as she slowly stood up and walked over to her husband a little unsteadily.

Octavia saw how Katie’s eyes lit up when Freddie crossed the room, with his hands outstretched towards his wife. How wonderful it must be, she thought to herself, to be in love. And to be the sole object of someone’s affections and desires. There had been no love or affection in her marriage to Lord Kendall, and she had lost hope that she would ever find that feeling of intimacy that her friends apparently shared. Octavia then felt a twinge of guilt as she remembered her two children, Charles and Olivia. Of course, she loved them. She loved them dearly and would do anything to protect them from harm. But she knew that the intense protective mother’s love she had for her children, was different from the physical desire she saw in Freddie and Katie’s eyes. Why was the English word for love woefully inadequate, she thought to herself? Why could there not be more than one word to describe that unusually diverse emotion?

Freddie walked over to his wife, took both her hands and gave her a gentle kiss on her cheek. He looked tenderly into her eyes, ‘go and sit down, my love. You look a little pale today.’

‘Oh, Freddie,’ Katie said, smiling up at a husband, ‘you are sweet, but I have never felt better.’

‘I would rather you did not exert yourself so close to your confinement,’ he said, looking at her, unable to hide the look of concern in his eyes. 

Katie put her hands on her swollen stomach. ‘Do not worry,’ she said, ‘the baby is well. I can feel him or her performing acrobatics.’ She laughed as she took Freddie’s hand and placed it where the baby was moving, ‘can you feel the baby.’

‘Yes,’ Freddie said as he gently rubbed her, ‘I can.’

Octavia was close to tears as she watched the tender scene between husband and wife. Lord Kendall had never shown her any concern when she was with child. In his eyes, she had just been a vessel to produce his heir, nothing more. There had been no