The Earl Falls in Love - Chapter 2
Spicy BL/MM/GAY Omegaverse Historical Romance
Edward
One Week Earlier, Tyndall Manor, St. Louis, the Capital of Northland
Edward Tyndall, Earl of Eastwood, was experiencing what his physician would delicately call “acute familial vexation” and what Edward himself would call “a damn headache from hell.” The pounding behind his temples had nothing to do with the champagne at this morning’s tedious social function and everything to do with the two identical young women currently standing before him in gentlemen’s attire, looking about as repentant as cats in a cream parlor.
“Damnation to hell and back!” The words escaped before he could stop them.
“Edward!” Scarlet gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in mock horror. “You just blasphemed in the presence of ladies! Quick, Samara, fetch my smelling salts before I collapse from the shock of it all.”
Edward fixed his sister with a look that had made hardened businessmen wet themselves. “Ladies?” He gestured pointedly at their attire. “I see two troublemakers dressed as university boys. The ladies must be hiding behind the curtains.”
“Fashion evolves, brother dear,” Samara replied airily, removing her cap to release a cascade of dark curls. “You should see what they’re wearing in Paris. This—” she gestured to her perfectly tailored ensemble, “—is practically conservative.”
“Yes, and I hear nuns in Rome have taken to wearing trousers under their habits,” Edward drawled. “Do go on with your justifications.”
The twins exchanged one of their infuriating silent-conversation glances. They stood before him in impeccable gentlemen’s clothing—from crisp white shirts and expertly knotted cravats to snugly fitted trousers and polished boots. The disguises might have been convincing if not for their delicate features and the unmistakably feminine curves that no amount of tailoring could fully conceal.
He knew exactly where they’d been. St. Louis University. They had abandoned this morning’s exclusive tea party—an event that had required considerable social maneuvering to secure invitations for—to go gallivanting around the prestigious university in their ridiculous disguises.
“Ladies,” he said with dangerous calm, “do not wear gentlemen’s clothing. Nor do they sneak into gentlemen’s clubs, opera house backstage areas, or university lecture halls pretending to be something they’re not.”
“I must say that needs to change, don’t you agree, brother?” Samara replied with a toss of her head. “Besides, you know we have a perfectly legitimate reason to be there.”
Scarlet nodded emphatically. “Reference material.”
“Ah yes, ‘reference material,’” Edward echoed, making air quotes with his fingers. “The excuse that justifies every social transgression known to mankind.”
“It’s not an excuse, it’s a professional necessity,” Scarlet insisted, already flipping open her sketchbook with the enthusiasm of a general revealing battle plans. “Look!”
She thrust the book toward him with such determination that escape was impossible. The sketch revealed two young men seated intimately close, their foreheads nearly touching as they bent over a shared book. Their expressions were unmistakably besotted, and delicate flowers framed the corners of the page as if romance itself were blooming around them.
“Do you think such perfection just falls from the sky?” Scarlet demanded. “Art requires sacrifice, Edward. Sometimes that sacrifice is propriety.”
“And sometimes it’s my sanity,” Edward muttered.
Samara nodded sagely. “As novelists and artists, we must immerse ourselves in the environment. It’s like you with your business ventures—would you invest in a diamond mine without first examining the diamonds?”
“I wouldn’t dress as a miner and sneak into the pit,” Edward retorted.
“Then you’re not as dedicated as we are,” Scarlet concluded triumphantly.
Edward barely suppressed a groan. Two years ago, in what he now recognized as a moment of temporary insanity, he had established a publishing house for his sisters’ nineteenth birthday. It had seemed a harmless indulgence at the time—a way to channel their creative energies into something productive while hopefully encouraging them to participate more enthusiastically in the social season.
What he hadn’t anticipated was that their “novels” would be what they euphemistically termed “BL”—Boys’ Love. Nor had he foreseen that their romantic tales of young men discovering forbidden passion would become the publishing sensation of St. Louis, with subscribers clamoring for each monthly installment and pre-orders that consistently topped The St. Louis Times’ Bestselling Book List.
The business was, to his continued astonishment, extraordinarily profitable. As a businessman first and a brother second (or perhaps the reverse, depending on the day and how many gray hairs they’d given him), Edward couldn’t justify shutting down such a successful venture simply because his sisters insisted on behaving in a manner that would give their grandmother apoplexy.
“I see I’m fighting a losing battle,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Though I would appreciate if you would at least attempt to maintain some semblance of propriety in public. Or is that too much to ask from the two young women who once convinced the Duke of Harrington’s son they were actually male twins from Switzerland?”
“That was a misunderstanding,” Samara protested.
“You spoke with fake accents for three hours!”
“Method acting,” Scarlet explained with a shrug. “Very important for character development.”
The twins exchanged another of their silent communications, apparently deciding they had worn down his resistance sufficiently for one day. They were right. Between their antics and the morning’s social obligations—where he had been forced to dodge no fewer than seven marriage-minded mamas and their daughters—his capacity for confrontation was thoroughly depleted.
“I’m sorry, Edward,” Samara said, her expression softening as she perched beside him on the sofa. “I know we give you headaches. But we’re only twenty-one. There’s no need to rush us into marriage when there are so many handsome young men still waiting to be sketched, is there?”
“God forbid we deprive the world of more sketches,” Edward muttered.
Scarlet claimed his other side, patting his arm with uncharacteristic gentleness. “You should worry more about yourself. You work too hard—just like Papa did. Soon you’ll be so exhausted that even those desperate mamas will lose interest. ‘Oh, what a handsome corpse,’ they’ll say at your funeral. ‘Shame about the premature wrinkles.’”
The comparison landed like a punch to the gut, albeit one wrapped in Scarlet’s peculiar brand of humor. Their father, the late Earl of Eastwood, had indeed worked himself into an early grave, his relentless dedication to expanding the family’s business interests ultimately costing him his health. Edward had assumed control of those same interests at twenty-three, determined to honor his father’s legacy while avoiding his fate.
“We’re back!” a cheerful voice announced from the doorway, saving Edward from having to formulate a response.
Alec Tyndall, their adopted brother, staggered into the sitting room beneath a precarious tower of boxes that threatened to topple at any moment. Behind him came the rest of the family procession: Lady Victoria Tyndall shepherding her grandchildren Emily and Ethan, who circled her like tiny dervishes; Henry Tyndall, Edward’s half-brother from Lady Tyndall’s first marriage; and Henry’s wife Daisy, both similarly laden with packages.
The shopping expedition had evidently been successful, judging by the parade of servants following with yet more boxes. Edward watched with a mixture of amusement and resignation as his peaceful sitting room transformed into what appeared to be a branch office of St. Louis’ finest department store.
Alec deposited his burden in the growing pile of purchases before collapsing onto the sofa beside Edward with the dramatic flair of a mortally wounded soldier. “I will never, ever go shopping with them again,” he declared, looking thoroughly traumatized. “I’d rather swim naked in the lake in January. I’d rather eat nothing but boiled cabbage for a year. I’d rather—”
“We get the picture, Alec,” Edward interrupted, noting the faint but unmistakable scent of expensive suppressants clinging to his younger brother. Despite his best efforts to pass as a beta, Alec’s omega status was becoming harder to conceal as he matured.
Scarlet cast him a knowing look. “It’s your own fault, dear Alec. If you had accompanied us to St. Louis University as requested, Daisy wouldn’t have dragged you shopping instead.”
“Like hell I’m sneaking into my own college with you two lunatics,” Alec retorted. “It would be social suicide if my friends discovered me. I draw the line at St. Louis University.”
“But the gentlemen’s club and opera house were acceptable venues for your sister-assisted crimes?” Henry asked, his tone deceptively casual as he set down his packages.
Alec waved a dismissive hand. “Those were different. No one recognized me there. Besides, the champagne at the opera house was excellent.”
“And free,” Samara added with a wink.
Lady Tyndall finally managed to corral her grandchildren into the room before collapsing gracefully into a chair by the hearth. She removed her bonnet with a sigh that suggested she had just completed a military campaign rather than a shopping expedition. “I desperately need tea. Or perhaps something stronger. Do we still have that excellent brandy, Edward?”
“At ten in the morning, Mother?” Edward raised an eyebrow.
“You haven’t spent the morning with these two,” she replied, gesturing to her grandchildren who were now racing circles around the furniture. “Angels though they may be, they have the energy of wild horses and the attention span of butterflies.”
“Same,” Daisy agreed, turning to Samara with raised eyebrows. “I assume Edward has already delivered his lecture on proper ladylike behavior?”
“Complete with stern expressions and disapproving sighs,” Samara confirmed.
“He even did the eyebrow thing,” Scarlet added, demonstrating by raising one of her own to an impressive height.
Daisy’s eyes lit with interest. “And did you counter with new sketches?”
“Oh, definitely,” Scarlet enthused, beckoning Daisy over with her sketchbook. “Wait until you see what we observed in Professor Hamilton’s lecture hall. Two young men in the back row who were definitely not discussing academic matters.”
Within moments, the women were huddled together, examining Scarlet’s latest artistic achievements with little Emily peering curiously over their shoulders.
Edward shook his head, unable to suppress a reluctant smile. Not only had the twins converted Daisy into an enthusiastic reader of their romantic tales, but they had also recruited her as their editor. She even contributed to the more... intimate scenes, drawing on what she termed her “married expertise”—a fact that made Henry both proud and slightly embarrassed, depending on who was present when it was mentioned.
“How was the tea party at Sussex’s?” Lady Tyndall inquired, drawing Edward’s attention back to the more conventional side of the room. “Were there any promising young ladies who caught your eye? Perhaps the Pemberton girl? Or Lady Jane Whitmore?”
And there it was—the other source of his perpetual headache. His mother’s well-intentioned but relentless campaign to see him married. At twenty-eight, Edward was well aware that he should be considering matrimony and the production of heirs. It wasn’t that he lacked options; as one of the most eligible bachelors in Northland, he had his pick of society’s most accomplished young women.
What he lacked was interest. Having witnessed the deep, abiding love between his parents—a marriage that had brought them both genuine joy until his father’s untimely death—Edward found himself unwilling to settle for anything less. A marriage of convenience, regardless of how advantageous for his business interests, held no appeal.
“Several charming young ladies were introduced,” he replied diplomatically. “None who inspired particular interest.”
“Translation: they bored him to tears,” Alec stage-whispered to Henry.
Lady Tyndall’s disappointment was palpable. “That’s... unfortunate.”
“Perhaps there weren’t any who matched Edward’s type,” Scarlet suggested, looking up from her sketches with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Type?” Daisy echoed. “I wasn’t aware Edward had a specific preference.”
“Oh, Edward definitely has a type,” Alec confirmed with the gleeful enthusiasm of a younger brother about to embarrass his elder.
Henry nodded sagely. “Quite specific, in fact.”
“Slender and angelic,” Samara supplied helpfully.
“The innocent type,” Scarlet added with a knowing smile. “Preferably with large, expressive eyes and a hint of vulnerability that makes him want to swoop in and protect them.”
“Good God,” Edward muttered, wondering how his sisters had acquired this alarmingly accurate assessment of his preferences. Henry and Alec were privy to his tastes, certainly—they had spent enough evenings discussing such matters over brandy. But Samara and Scarlet?
“And let’s not forget his preference for that distinctive omega scent,” Alec added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Something fresh and sweet, with just a hint of spice.”
Edward shot him a warning look, which Alec blithely ignored.
“You know, for an alpha who claims to have no interest in marriage, you certainly have specific requirements,” Henry said with amusement.
“An alpha’s sense of smell is a powerful thing,” Lady Tyndall remarked. “Your father could detect my scent across a crowded ballroom, even with all those perfumes and colognes. He always said it was like fresh lilacs after a spring rain.”
Edward shifted uncomfortably. His mother rarely discussed such intimate details of her bond with his father.
Alec leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Our sisters could extract state secrets from a mute. I recommend increased vigilance in the future.”
“You mean they tortured my secrets out of you,” Edward replied dryly. “And I wonder what methods of persuasion they employed?” He fixed Alec with a pointed look that made the younger man flush guiltily.
“They threatened to show illustrations of me to my university friends,” Alec confessed. “Very detailed illustrations that suggested I have a passionate interest in Professor Blackwood’s son.”
“Ah, so it was you, you little traitor,” Edward laughed, pulling his brother into a playful headlock and ruffling his dark hair. “Selling my secrets for your social survival.”
The sight of their brotherly roughhousing immediately captured the twins’ attention. Scarlet quickly flipped to a fresh page in her sketchbook, her pencil flying across the paper to capture the moment. Little Emily watched with fascination, clapping her hands in delight.
“Drawing! Drawing!” she chanted.
Alec, with his slender build, silky dark hair, and fine features, had long been the twins’ favorite model for their gentler heroes. Edward, with his broader shoulders and more commanding presence, was often cast as their dominant, brooding love interest. Edward’s best friend Anthony, Duke of Devon, with his aloof demeanor and striking looks, typically served as their mysterious antihero.
As if summoned by thought alone, the butler appeared at the doorway. “His Grace, the Duke of Devon, His Lordship, the Earl of Harington, and Mr. Ford, have arrived.”
Anthony Jenkins entered first, his tall, muscular frame and bronze skin making him an imposing figure despite his fair hair and hazel eyes. Behind him came Aiden Davis, Earl of Harington, whose blond good looks and easy smile had broken hearts across three counties, and Daniel Ford, the Tyndall family’s lawyer and Edward’s childhood friend, whose dark eyes missed nothing.
The room’s atmosphere shifted subtly as the three men entered, their collective presence adding a new layer of energy to the already lively space. Edward could sense the twins’ excitement—three eligible noblemen in one room was a sketch artist’s dream.
“Anthony, Aiden, Daniel!” Lady Tyndall greeted warmly. “How lovely to see you boys.”
Anthony bowed elegantly. “Lady Tyndall.” His gaze shifted to the twins, taking in their attire with a raised eyebrow. “I see you two are in disguise today. Most becoming, I must say. The cut of those trousers is particularly flattering.”
Samara preened under his approval. “Why, thank you, Your Grace. This ensemble does have its merits. You have excellent taste, unlike some people.” She cast a pointed look at Edward.
“Don’t encourage them, Anthony,” Edward warned. “You’re only making my life more difficult.”
“And why shouldn’t I?” Anthony countered, settling into a chair with aristocratic grace. “They’re like sisters to me, and as an honorary brother, I should support their creative pursuits.” He turned to the twins with a knowing smile. “Which today included... infiltrating St. Louis University, if I’m not mistaken? Professor Hamilton’s lecture on ancient philosophy, specifically.”
Scarlet’s jaw dropped. “Anthony! How could you possibly know that? We were incredibly discreet!”
“So discreet that you signed the attendance register as ‘S. Tyndall’ and ‘S. Tyndall,’” Anthony replied dryly. “Brilliant anonymity.”
“Anthony is psychic,” Aiden explained with mock seriousness. “Didn’t you know? He can also predict the weather and tell you what you had for breakfast three Tuesdays ago.”
“Really?” Samara gasped, momentarily forgetting her sophistication.
“Indeed,” Anthony agreed solemnly, though his eyes danced with amusement. “It was eggs. Slightly overdone.”
Scarlet narrowed her eyes. “I’ll discover your methods eventually, Anthony. Mark my words. No one is that observant without supernatural assistance.”
“Or a cousin who teaches at the university,” Anthony replied with a wink.
Tea arrived, providing a welcome distraction from the twins’ interrogation. As the maids arranged the service, Henry turned to Daniel. “You look like you’re here on business. Has Edward finally bankrupted us all?”
“Not yet,” Daniel replied with a smile. “Though give him time. No, I’m here about that matter.”
Edward frowned. “That?”
“That?” Samara echoed, curiosity piqued.
Alec leaned forward. “Now I’m intrigued about that. Is it scandalous? Please say it’s scandalous.”
Aiden exchanged an amused glance with Daniel. “I believe Edward has forgotten entirely.”
Edward searched his memory, trying to recall what Daniel might be referring to. Between managing his business interests, wrangling his siblings, and navigating the social season, matters of lesser importance tended to slip from his mind with alarming regularity.
“That,” Daniel explained patiently, “refers to the matter I informed you of a month ago. I even prepared formal correspondence. You should already be inspecting your new estate at Cheswick instead of dodging debutantes at Sussex’s tea party.”
Edward stared blankly. “What?”
Lady Tyndall looked up sharply. “Cheswick? Edward, dear, have you purchased new property without informing me? Is this another of your impulsive investments, like that sheep farm in Wales?”
“That sheep farm turned a profit,” Edward defended himself automatically. “And no, I haven’t acquired any new land recently.” He turned to Daniel with growing confusion. “Let’s assume I’ve completely forgotten whatever this Cheswick business entails, which seems increasingly likely. Why would I need to inspect it?”
“Because you’ve inherited it,” Daniel replied simply. “Rather unexpectedly. Along with the title, the land, and apparently, three wards.”
“Inherited?” Samara repeated. “From whom?”
Scarlet’s eyes widened dramatically. “Goodness gracious! Mama, does Edward have another father we weren’t aware of? Has this mystery parent passed away, leaving him an estate and secret half-siblings? This is exactly like chapter twelve of our last novel!”
Anthony and Alec erupted into laughter while Lady Tyndall merely smiled indulgently. “No, dear. I’m quite certain Edward has only the one father, unless there’s something about my past you’d like me to confess?”
“Letty is only jesting, Mama,” Samara explained unnecessarily.
“Yes, dear, I’m aware,” Lady Tyndall assured her. “I may be old, but I haven’t yet lost my sense of humor. Unlike some people.” She cast a meaningful glance at Edward, who pretended not to notice.
Henry leaned forward. “Perhaps Daniel could elaborate on the details before Scarlet concocts an entire gothic novel around Edward’s mysterious inheritance?”
Daniel nodded. “Our firm received formal notification approximately three months ago. After thorough investigation, I confirmed that Edward has inherited the Earldom of Cheswick, along with its associated lands and property. The connection is through Lady Katherine Tyndall’s lineage.”
“Great-grandmother?” Samara clarified. “Her maiden name was Ward, wasn’t it?”
Edward nodded. “Katherine Ward, yes. The one who supposedly scandalized society by wearing trousers to go horseback riding.” He glanced pointedly at his sisters. “Apparently it runs in the family.”
“The title passed through her cousin’s line,” Daniel continued, ignoring the interruption. “It comes to Edward because there is no surviving legitimate male heir on the Harrison side.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “That’s not entirely accurate. The current—or rather, former—Countess of Cheswick, Lady Elizabeth Harrison, attempted to legitimize her grandsons and granddaughter. However, as you know, the Peerage of Northland does not recognize illegitimate children for inheritance purposes.”
“Even if the child is an alpha?” Scarlet asked, her brow furrowing.
“The laws are quite clear,” Daniel replied. “Legitimacy takes precedence over secondary gender in matters of inheritance. Had there been a legitimate alpha or even beta son, the title would have remained with the Harrisons.”
Edward absorbed this information with growing interest. “So I’ve acquired another earldom along with its estate. Now that you mention it, I do recall you bringing this to my attention.” He had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “I’ve been rather preoccupied lately.”
“Yes, ignoring your correspondence and hiding from eligible young ladies must be exhausting,” Anthony said dryly.
Edward shot him a look. “I don’t hide. I strategically relocate.”
“To the billiards room. Every time,” Aiden pointed out. “It’s becoming so predictable that the Fairchild twins have started taking their needlework in there.”
“To lose her family’s ancestral home, Lady Harrison must be devastated,” Daisy said, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand.
A somber silence fell over the room as they contemplated this reality.
Scarlet broke it first, rounding on Edward with unexpected ferocity. “Edward Tyndall, if you evict that poor family from their home simply because some archaic law has handed you their property, I shall never forgive you. I’ll write you into my next novel as the villain who gets trampled by a herd of sheep in the final chapter.”
“Oddly specific threat,” Alec murmured.
“Those poor children!” Scarlet continued, turning to Daniel. “They are children, aren’t they? Lady Harrison’s grandchildren?”
Daniel nodded. “Based on my research, there are three illegitimate grandchildren: Ian Harrison, age eighteen, and twins Reuben and Rosie Harrison, age six.”
“Twins, like us!” Scarlet exclaimed, exchanging a meaningful look with Samara. “And only six years old!” She fixed Edward with a glare that would have withered a lesser man. “You are absolutely forbidden from displacing them. Is that understood? Or so help me, I’ll make sure every eligible lady in St. Louis thinks you have a contagious skin condition.”
“Letty,” Edward began, exasperation evident in his tone.
Daniel cleared his throat. “Actually, since Edward has inherited the title, he is now their legal guardian.”
“Hear that, Edward?” Anthony smirked. “You’ve acquired not only an estate but three wards as well. Congratulations on your instant family. Do you want children’s furniture recommendations? I hear rocking horses are all the rage.”
Edward groaned. “They’re probably three insufferable brats. I already have my hands full with the current three.”
“Edward!” Samara gasped. “Are you calling us brats?”
“My heart!” Scarlet clutched her chest dramatically. “Your cruel words have wounded me mortally. I shall waste away from grief. Make sure my tombstone reads ‘Here lies Scarlet Tyndall, cruelly maligned by her brother who called her a brat when she was, in fact, a delight.’”
Alec snorted. “You’re lumping me in with those two? I’m not nearly as troublesome.”
“A twenty-year-old brat is still a brat,” Edward retorted. “Especially one who helped his sisters sneak into the Royal Opera during a private performance for the Queen.”
“That was a cultural experience,” Alec defended. “Besides, Her Majesty never even noticed us.”
Lady Tyndall clasped her hands together, her expression brightening. “How wonderful! More children to add to our family. I’m certain Lady Harrison is a delightful woman, and the children must be absolutely charming.”
“Lady Harrison has another granddaughter as well,” Daniel added. “Dorothy Harrison, age twenty-six. She’s legitimate, though unmarried. If she had married and produced a son, the title would have passed to him rather than to Edward. I understand she has essentially raised the twins since she was twenty.”
“She sounds like a remarkable young woman,” Samara said. “Unlike some people who can barely manage to raise themselves in the morning.” She cast a pointed look at Alec, who was now sprawled across the sofa like a particularly elegant throw rug.
“Do we know anything about the children’s secondary genders?” Lady Tyndall asked, her tone carefully casual.
Daniel hesitated. “My information is limited, but I believe the eldest, Ian, is an omega.”
Edward’s head snapped up at this. “An omega? A male omega?”
“Yes,” Daniel confirmed. “Though I gather it’s not widely discussed. The region is quite remote, and traditional in many ways.”
“A male omega without proper guidance or protection,” Lady Tyndall murmured, concern evident in her voice. “At that age... Edward, you must go immediately.”
Edward felt a strange tightening in his chest. Male omegas were rare, and often vulnerable without proper family support. The thought of this Ian—this boy who was losing his home and had already lost his parents—facing the world without protection stirred something protective in him.
Anthony turned to Edward. “So, what do you intend to do about this unexpected inheritance? Besides forgetting about it again, that is.”
Edward considered for a moment, then smiled. “I’ll do what needs to be done. Besides, I could use a respite from St. Louis society. Cheswick sounds like the perfect place for some peace and quiet.”
“Peace and quiet?” Scarlet repeated incredulously. “You? The man who once negotiated a shipping contract during his own birthday celebration?”
“I’d offer to accompany you,” Samara said, “but our publishing deadline approaches. The next installment must be completed within a fortnight, and our readers would riot if we delayed. Remember what happened when we were a week late with ‘The Duke’s Secret Desire’?”
“How could I forget?” Edward replied dryly. “The line of outraged readers outside the publishing house extended for three blocks. One woman threatened to camp on our doorstep until she received her copy.”
“I’ll join you, of course,” Daniel said. “There will be considerable legal matters to address.”
“And I’ll need to prepare the new earl for his duties,” Anthony added unexpectedly. “I happen to own property not far from Cheswick. Been meaning to visit for months.”
Edward raised an eyebrow. “How convenient.”
“Isn’t it just?” Anthony agreed with a smile that suggested he had ulterior motives. “I hear the countryside is particularly lovely this time of year.”
As the conversation turned to travel arrangements, Edward found himself unexpectedly intrigued by this inheritance he had so carelessly dismissed. A new estate, a new title, and apparently, new responsibilities in the form of three wards—one of them a male omega approaching adulthood.
The alpha in him stirred with unexpected interest. A male omega without proper guidance, in a remote country estate... Edward quickly suppressed the inappropriate direction of his thoughts. This was about duty and responsibility, nothing more.