The Earl Falls in Love - Chapter 7
Spicy BL/MM/GAY Omegaverse Historical Romance
Ian
The afternoon brought Dr. Webb huffing up our winding drive for a follow-up examination of our noble guest—or rather, Lord Edward Tyndall, the man who was stealing our home and whose very name still made my stomach perform acrobatics that would impress a circus performer. I hadn’t fully wrapped my mind around the fact that this towering alpha was now not just our landlord but apparently our guardian as well.
By the time Dr. Webb finished poking and prodding at his lordship, Paul arrived with Mr. Daniel Ford, Lord Edward’s lawyer, in tow. I watched from the doorway as Mr. Ford practically catapulted himself from our ancient carriage the moment he spotted Lord Edward at the entrance.
“Edward!” he cried, flinging his arms around his friend with such force I expected our new earl to topple like a sapling in a storm. Instead, Lord Edward merely winced as the lawyer embraced him with the desperate relief of someone who’d expected to find a corpse rather than a mildly inconvenienced nobleman.
“Not too tight, Daniel old boy,” Lord Edward said, his voice strained but warm. “I’m quite injured, you know. Still have bandages in places that would make polite society faint dead away.”
Mr. Ford released him hastily, stepping back with a relieved laugh. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. But damn it all to seven hells, Edward! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? I nearly turned Greenhill Village inside out looking for you—had the tavern owner blubbering like a schoolgirl when I threatened to sue his miserable establishment into oblivion. How in God’s name did they not notice when the Earl of Eastwood failed to return to his room?”
“Turning the whole village upside down?” Lord Edward chuckled, the sound rich and surprisingly pleasant. “I can just imagine you terrorizing the locals with legal jargon and ominous threats about writs and subpoenas.”
His gaze shifted to where I stood hovering in the doorway, and something in his expression softened. “As luck would have it, I was rescued by none other than the Harrisons themselves.” He winked at me—actually winked—and my treacherous heart performed a somersault worthy of a circus performer.
I forced my face to remain impassive, though I suspected the sudden warmth in my cheeks betrayed me. Damn this fair complexion that showed every blush like a lighthouse beacon.
“An unexpected turn of events, if you ask me,” Mr. Ford said, barely glancing my way as he followed Lord Edward into the foyer.
He took several steps before freezing mid-stride, turning back to look at me with comically widened eyes. I might have laughed had I not been so confused by his reaction.
Lord Edward noticed his friend’s expression and, to my absolute horror, strode over to wrap a casual arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side as if we were old acquaintances rather than guardian and ward of less than a day’s standing.
The contact sent a jolt through my system like I’d grabbed a lightning rod during a storm. He was solid warmth and impossible height beside me, his alpha scent enveloping me despite the herbs I’d applied that morning. I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes, which crinkled at the corners with amusement.
“Edward!” Mr. Ford’s voice cracked like a whip. “Have you lost your goddamn mind? That is in no way respectful to a young lady. Remove yourself from her immediately.”
Young lady? I blinked in confusion. Has he mistaken me for Dorothy? Or perhaps suffered a head injury on the journey?
Lord Edward’s laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating against my side. “Relax, Daniel. This lovely being here,” he squeezed me closer, “is one of my wards. Say hello to our dependable lawyer, Ian.”
I managed a stiff bow despite being practically glued to Lord Edward’s side. “Hello, Mr. Ford. I promise I’m not a ‘young lady,’ despite what my eyelashes might suggest.”
The lawyer gaped at me like I’d suddenly sprouted a second head. “Ian? As in Ian Harrison? The one Kelly at the tavern described as—”
“The very same,” Lord Edward interrupted smoothly. “Though I find firsthand acquaintance far more reliable than village gossip, don’t you?”
Mr. Ford’s mouth worked silently, opening and closing like a fish tossed onto shore. What was so shocking about my existence? Had the tavern girl painted me as some kind of ogre?
“Close your mouth, Daniel, before you start catching flies,” Lord Edward advised, still not releasing me. “Now, let’s introduce you to the other Harrisons.”
Instead of setting me free, he steered me toward the drawing room with his arm still firmly around my shoulders. “Wait until you meet the twins,” he called over his shoulder. “They’re both adorable little terrors who’ve already managed to wrap me around their tiny fingers.”
“If what I’ve seen so far is of any indication,” Mr. Ford replied, his eyes still fixed on me, “I won’t be surprised at just how captivating the Harrison brood proves to be.”
Only as we entered the drawing room did Lord Edward finally release me, allowing me to step away and take my customary position behind Grandma Eliza’s chair. I tried to ignore the lingering warmth where his arm had rested and the way his scent clung to my clothing like an invisible mark.
“Mr. Ford,” Grandma Eliza greeted with perfect composure, though I detected a hint of amusement in her eyes as they flicked between me and Lord Edward. “Welcome to what remains of Cheswick Manor.”
Mr. Ford executed a small bow. “Lady Harrison, it’s an honor. Daniel Ford at your service, though I suspect after Edward’s theatrics, I should clarify that I’m here as his lawyer, not his keeper—though the distinction often blurs.”
“My granddaughter, Dorothy Harrison,” Grandma Eliza continued, gesturing to where Dorothy sat with her perfect posture and serene smile.
The transformation in Mr. Ford’s expression was immediate and comical. His eyes widened, his mouth softened, and he stared at Dorothy as if she were the first sunrise after a month of darkness.
“Mr. Ford,” Dorothy murmured, her eyes downcast and cheeks faintly pink.
I blinked in surprise. Dorothy always smiled, of course—when reading her romance novels, when sewing with Amy, when playing with the twins—but this particular smile was different. She looked... flustered. Dorothy, who faced down tradesmen twice her size without batting an eyelash, was blushing like a heroine in one of her novels.
Well, well. This is interesting. Perhaps our dull little corner of Northland is about to become considerably more entertaining.
“Lady Dorothy,” Mr. Ford replied, still staring as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “The pleasure is entirely mine.”
Grandma Eliza cleared her throat. “You must be parched after your journey, Mr. Ford. Please sit down and have some tea before you expire from dehydration while admiring my granddaughter.”
Mr. Ford’s face flamed. “I—that is—yes, tea would be most welcome.”
Dorothy poured tea with her usual grace, passing a cup to Mr. Ford, who accepted it with an eagerness that had nothing to do with thirst, judging by how his eyes never left her face.
After a few sips, Mr. Ford turned to Grandma Eliza. “I must apologize for our unannounced arrival. As the Tyndalls’ lawyer, it’s my duty to ensure all transitions proceed smoothly, but recent weeks have been rather chaotic.” He glanced at Lord Edward. “There was much to arrange for Edward—Lord Eastwood, that is. He’s the type of man with his fingers in far too many pies for his own good.”
“You make it sound like a character flaw,” Lord Edward said dryly. “Some of us prefer productivity to your approach of lengthy luncheons and strategic napping.”
“I call it ‘contemplative legal reflection,’” Mr. Ford retorted.
Grandma Eliza nodded. “Yes, I suspected as much about Lord Eastwood. He has that driven quality about him—like a hunting dog that won’t give up the scent even when it leads through a briar patch.”
I bit back a smile at her apt description. Lord Edward did have that relentless energy about him, even while injured.
“I assume then that Edward has spoken to you about the inheritance?” Mr. Ford asked. When Grandma Eliza nodded, he continued, “Then we can proceed with the formalities soon, including the reading of the late Lord Cheswick’s will that accompanied the inheritance.”
“Lord Eastwood mentioned he is now guardian to Ian, Reuben, and Rosie,” Grandma Eliza said, her tone carefully neutral. “A development that was, shall we say, unexpected.”
“Yes, that’s correct,” Mr. Ford confirmed. “There are several other provisions as well, which I’ll clarify during the formal reading—either this evening or tomorrow, at your convenience.”
“Perhaps tomorrow would be more suitable,” Grandma Eliza suggested. “You look like you need time to rest and refresh yourself, Mr. Ford. I can only imagine how frantic you must have been upon discovering Lord Eastwood missing.”
Mr. Ford laughed ruefully. “Frantic doesn’t begin to cover it. Edward isn’t one for practical jokes or shirking responsibility, so I knew immediately something was amiss. Besides,” he added with a meaningful look at his friend, “if anything happened to Edward, not only would I be devastated—we’ve been friends since childhood—but I’d have every Tyndall and their extended relations after my blood. His mother alone would have me drawn and quartered.”
Dorothy laughed softly. “It must be a heavy burden, being responsible for such an important man.”
Mr. Ford’s attention snapped back to her like a compass finding north. “Indeed it is, my lady. Though some days the burden feels heavier than others.”
“There was no need for such concern,” Lord Edward said with a dismissive wave. “As you can see, I’m perfectly intact.”
I couldn’t help myself. “You weren’t ‘perfectly intact’ when I found you, my... my lord.” The honorific still stuck in my throat like a fishbone. “You were doing a splendid impression of a corpse, complete with an alarming amount of blood and what I initially thought was your last breath.”
Lord Edward’s lips twitched. “You exaggerate, Ian. I was merely taking a brief rest in the countryside.”
“In a puddle of your own blood,” I added helpfully. “Quite the restful location you chose.”
Paul appeared at the doorway, saving me from further impertinence. “I was wondering where I should put the luggage, ma’am,” he asked Grandma Eliza.
“Leave them in the foyer for now,” she instructed. “We’ll arrange a room for Mr. Ford momentarily.”
Paul bowed and withdrew.
“Did you bring mine as well?” Lord Edward asked his friend.
Mr. Ford nodded. “And the gifts for the Harrisons.”
My head snapped up at this, as did Grandma Eliza’s and Dorothy’s. Gifts? From the people who were displacing us from our home?
“Gifts?” Grandma Eliza echoed my thoughts.
“From my mother and sisters,” Lord Edward explained. “They practically forced them upon me with dire threats should I fail to deliver them. My twin sisters were particularly creative in describing what would become of me if I returned home without having presented them properly.”
Grandma Eliza looked genuinely stunned. None of us had expected gifts from the Tyndalls. Before Lord Edward’s unexpected arrival, I had imagined him and his family to be cut from the same cloth as Lady Olivia—arrogant, selfish nobles who wouldn’t spare a thought for those beneath them, especially a family of illegitimate country relations living in a crumbling manor far from civilization.
“I see,” Grandma Eliza said carefully. “That is... most unexpected.”
“Perhaps we should open the boxes and see what’s inside?” Lord Edward suggested. “I confess I’m as curious as you are, though Mother mentioned something about food items and books. My sisters insisted on adding their own contributions, which frankly terrifies me.”
“If they include perishables, we should certainly open them promptly,” Dorothy said practically. “To prevent spoilage.”
“I agree completely, my lady,” Mr. Ford said, with an enthusiasm that had nothing to do with food preservation.
Ten minutes later, five boxes of varying sizes had been arranged in the drawing room. Dorothy, Mr. Ford, and I set about opening them, revealing contents that left me momentarily speechless. Grandma Eliza looked dazed, while Dorothy’s eyes filled with tears, her cheeks flushed with emotion.
One of the largest boxes contained fabrics of a quality I’d never seen outside of illustrations in Dorothy’s fashion magazines—silks and satins suitable for evening gowns, along with fine cottons perfect for everyday children’s clothing. Dorothy’s fingers trembled as she stroked a length of azure silk that matched her eyes perfectly.
“Good heavens,” she whispered. “This is finer than anything I’ve ever worked with.”
The second large box held an array of food items that made my stomach growl embarrassingly. Exotic spices, condiments, and seasonings—including a bright red powder labeled “curry” that I’d never encountered—sat alongside cheeses and hams that made my mouth water in anticipation.
“Well,” I murmured, “at least we won’t starve while we’re being evicted.”
Lord Edward shot me a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated.
“Oh my goodness!”
Dorothy’s breathless exclamation drew my attention to a smaller box she’d just opened. It contained books—dozens of them, all brand new with pristine covers and crisp pages. I recognized some as the romance novels Dorothy adored, while others appeared to be mystery and fantasy titles.
Most of the romance novels featured traditional covers with illustrations of elegant young women, but a significant number depicted handsome young men instead. I’d glimpsed similar books in Dorothy’s collection, though I’d never examined them closely. Perhaps they focused on male friendships? It wasn’t something I could relate to, having never had close friends my own age.
Friends. The word brought a sudden, unexpected pang. Perhaps at Wellington Academy, if Lord Edward truly meant to send me there, I might finally make friends of my own.
“Do you enjoy reading, Lady Dorothy?” Mr. Ford asked, his voice warm with interest.
Dorothy beamed, hugging a book with two young men on the cover to her chest. “Oh yes, very much so. Books are the most wonderful escape.”
Mr. Ford’s eyes widened when he spotted the cover illustration, while Lord Edward chuckled knowingly.
As Dorothy continued exploring the box’s contents with growing delight, Mr. Ford leaned toward Lord Edward and whispered, “My eyes didn’t deceive me, did they? That was clearly Alec on that cover.”
“No, your eyes are functioning perfectly,” Lord Edward replied quietly. “That’s last month’s installment. I believe it’s a tactic to recruit new readers, though in this case, it seems entirely unnecessary.”
Mr. Ford laughed softly, nodding in agreement.
I frowned, puzzled by their cryptic exchange.
“Oh my,” Grandma Eliza exclaimed, lifting beautifully crafted toys and children’s books from another box. “These must be for the twins.”
Lord Edward nodded. “I believe so.”
Dorothy hurried over to inspect the items. “They look brand new,” she marveled, turning to Lord Edward. “Did Lady Tyndall purchase these specifically for Reuben and Rosie?”
“I believe she did,” he confirmed. “Mother and my sisters embarked on quite the shopping expedition before my departure. They were rather excited about the prospect of new children in the family, even distant relations.”
Tears welled in Dorothy’s eyes. “That’s incredibly thoughtful. Reuben and Rosie will be beside themselves with joy.”
“I’m certain they will be,” Mr. Ford agreed. “Speaking of which, might I meet these famous twins? I’ve heard so much about them already.”
“Of course,” Dorothy said warmly.
“I’ll fetch them,” I volunteered, eager for a moment away from the overwhelming generosity that made me feel both grateful and strangely vulnerable. These gifts complicated my carefully constructed resentment toward the Tyndalls, and I wasn’t ready to surrender that protective anger just yet.
I found the twins in the library with Amy, predictably using my arrival as an excuse to abandon their studies. The moment I appeared, they bounded from their chairs and raced toward me, their faces alight with excitement.
“Ian! Ian!” Reuben shouted, bouncing on his toes like a spring-loaded toy. “I seed another big man coming in our house and there’s lots and lots of boxes and stuff! Is it Christmas? Did Father Christmas come early?”
I laughed at his enthusiasm. “No, not Father Christmas. That’s Mr. Ford, Lord Edward’s friend. And yes, there are many boxes with presents inside. Would you two like to meet him and see what’s in those boxes?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” they chorused, practically vibrating with excitement.
“May I come along too, Master Ian?” Amy asked, her curiosity about our visitors and their mysterious boxes evident in her expression.
“Of course,” I replied, leading our small procession back to the drawing room. “Though I warn you, it’s all terribly dull. Just a lot of boring adult conversation and absolutely no exciting presents whatsoever.”
“You’re fibbing!” Rosie giggled, tugging at my hand. “I can tell ‘cause your nose gets all wrinkly when you fib!”
“Does it now?” I asked, feigning offense. “Well, that’s a terribly inconvenient tell. I’ll have to work on that.”
The moment we entered the drawing room, Mr. Ford’s face lit up. “Oh my! What absolutely delightful children!”
Reuben and Rosie scurried to Dorothy’s side, Rosie hiding partially behind her skirts while Reuben whispered none-too-quietly, “I see toys! Lots and lots of toys!”
Dorothy smiled, gently urging them forward. “They’re gifts from Lady Tyndall, Lord Eastwood’s mother. Now, say hello to Mr. Ford. He’ll be staying with us for a little while.”
Reuben executed an exaggerated bow that nearly toppled him forward. “Hello, Mr. Ford! Are you a lord too? Do you have a big house like Lord Edward? Can I visit it?”
Rosie managed a wobbly curtsy. “Hello,” she whispered, her cheeks pink. “Your coat is very pretty.”
“Hello, Reuben and Rosie,” Mr. Ford replied warmly. “I’m not a lord, just a simple lawyer. But I do have a nice house in St. Louis that you’re welcome to visit someday. And thank you, Miss Rosie—this coat is one of my favorites too.”
Reuben tugged at Dorothy’s skirt. “Can we look at the new toys? Please please please with sugar on top?”
“Of course you may,” Dorothy laughed.
The twins descended upon the box of toys like locusts on a wheat field, their delighted squeals soon filling the room. I knelt beside them, helping to unwrap each treasure as they discovered it, their joy infectious despite my determination to remain aloof.
“Look, Ian! It’s a soldier!” Reuben exclaimed, waving a painted wooden figure. “He’s got a sword and everything!”
“And I got a princess!” Rosie added, holding up a doll with elaborate curls. “She’s got a pink dress just like I wanted!”
I caught Lord Edward watching us, his expression unreadable but intent. When our eyes met, he didn’t look away, and something in his gaze made my heart perform that ridiculous somersault again.
Later, once the gifts had been properly sorted and stored, we set about arranging accommodations for our guests. With only five bedrooms in the manor, some reshuffling was necessary. Lord Edward would take the master bedroom—Father’s old room, untouched since his death. Mr. Ford would stay in my room, while I would bunk with Reuben in the twins’ room. Rosie would share with Dorothy, an arrangement that occurred frequently anyway.
“This is one of the finest rooms in the house,” I explained as I showed Lord Edward to the master bedroom, trying not to inhale the lingering scent of Father that still clung to the furnishings despite years of disuse. “Though that’s rather like saying it’s the finest cabin on a sinking ship.”
“Ian,” Lord Edward admonished, though his lips twitched with amusement.
“I’m merely being honest, my lord,” I replied innocently. “I wouldn’t want you to have unrealistic expectations.”
I crossed to the window, pulling back the faded curtains to reveal the view. “The vista is quite magnificent, though. That part isn’t an exaggeration.”
Lord Edward gave the landscape a cursory glance while Mr. Ford moved to the window for a better look.
“It’s truly spectacular,” Mr. Ford commented. “You can see all the way to the mountains.”
“It’s even more breathtaking at sunset,” I added. “Since it faces west. The whole room turns gold.”
“Your room is on the opposite side of the manor, Ian?” Lord Edward inquired, his gaze oddly intense.
I nodded. “It’s set apart from the others, across the hall. Originally intended for guests, but when the twins arrived, I relocated there. I prefer it because it’s quieter and faces east. The sunrise view is worth waking early for.”
“You enjoy watching the sunrise?” Lord Edward asked, something like genuine interest in his voice.
“Very much,” I admitted. “It’s the most peaceful time of day. The only time the twins aren’t creating chaos, for one thing.”
Mr. Ford turned from the window. “By the way, are there bathrooms in the manor?”
I suppressed a sigh. City folk and their modern expectations. “I’m sorry, sir, but no. We make do with washstands and chamber pots. Very traditional, very rustic, very inconvenient.”
“No need for apologies, Ian,” Mr. Ford said kindly. “Most homes still lack indoor plumbing. It’s a costly luxury.”
A luxury reserved for the wealthy, he meant. I wondered briefly what it would be like to have hot water at the turn of a tap rather than hauled bucket by bucket from the kitchen.
“I’ll bring up your luggage, my lord,” I offered, turning toward the door.
“No,” Lord Edward said sharply, catching my arm before I could leave. The sudden contact sent a jolt through me, his alpha scent intensifying with the touch. “Don’t bring them here. Take them to your room instead.”
I stared at him, bewildered. “Pardon me? Have I misunderstood, or are you refusing the master bedroom?”
He turned to his friend. “Daniel, you’ll stay in this room.”
Mr. Ford’s eyebrows shot up. “You want me to take the master bedroom while you stay in that small room at the back of the house? Have you suffered a head injury we’re not aware of?”
“I’m perfectly content with the smaller accommodation,” Lord Edward said with a dismissive shrug. “I’ve already spent a night there, after all.” He smiled at me, releasing my arm. “No need to relocate.”
“But you’re injured, my lord,” I protested. “You shouldn’t be sleeping in such a cramped space. You barely fit in my bed as it is—your feet hang off the end like some sort of bizarre decoration.”
“I’ll help with the luggage,” Mr. Ford interjected, clearly recognizing a losing battle. “You, Edward, just sit tight and don’t be a nuisance.”
Lord Edward snorted. “Me? A nuisance? I’ll have you know I’m the very soul of cooperation.”
“And I’m the Queen of Northland,” Mr. Ford retorted. “Your stubbornness is legendary, my friend.”
As I followed them back downstairs, I couldn’t shake the strange feeling that my orderly life had been upended in ways far more profound than simply losing our home. Lord Edward Tyndall was not at all what I had expected, and that realization was both unsettling and oddly exhilarating.
What game was he playing by choosing to remain in my small bedroom? And why did the thought of him sleeping there again make my pulse quicken in a way that had nothing to do with propriety and everything to do with the lingering scent of alpha that would permeate my space?
Whatever his motives, one thing was becoming increasingly clear: Edward Tyndall was going to be far more difficult to resent than I had anticipated.