Elizabeth Lennox

The Earl’s Outrageous Lover - Introduction

The Earls Outrageous Lover by Elizabeth Lennox

Edward….

“Stiff upper lip, son,” Edward’s father said softly, barely moving his lips. Edward Livingston didn’t nod, didn’t agree or in any way acknowledge his father’s command. He knew exactly what was expected of him. At sixteen, he was fully prepared to follow in his father’s footsteps and knew that protocol would not allow him to cry or show any emotion.

As the coffin was lowered into the ground, Edward smothered the grief deep down inside, burying it so that it couldn’t come out. Later, when he was alone he could release the anguish that was clawing at his insides, but while in public he would remain steady and calm. Too many eyes were waiting, watching to see his reaction and he refused to allow them into his private misery.

He couldn’t watch as his mother’s body was lowered into the ground. He looked away, needing some other scene to distract him from the wrenching pain he was feeling at the moment. He could deal with this, he told himself. Rise above the sorrow, was the mantra his father had drilled into him over and over again throughout his life. His mother was gone now. Letting these people see his grief wouldn’t bring her back and would only give everyone something to talk about later.

He looked around, his eyes searching for something else to look at. His eyes caught a little girl, her brown, curly hair pinned back off of her face and her huge eyes staring back at him. He knew her but couldn’t remember her name. At least, he knew her family and respected the little girl’s father. Edward sifted through his brain, finally remembering that the father’s name was Franklin Mallory. He wasn’t sure about the mother’s name, but he was pretty sure he remembered the daughter was called Jessica.

The tears this little girl was shedding seemed out of proportion to the event and her personal sting at the loss of a stranger’s mother. Why was she as staring right back at him, her huge, five year old eyes weeping for someone else’s mother? Why would she do that, he wondered. She didn’t move at all, her tiny body wrapped in a black, wool coat, her feet dangling off of the end of the chair as the afternoon sunshine glinted off of her shining dark curls. Despite the fact that her little legs were too short, causing her feet didn’t reach the ground, her legs were appropriately crossed at the ankles just as her mother’s were. Edward took it all in, slowly absorbing each detail and watching every tear fall from her cheeks passed her adorable, button nose. He’d never witnessed anyone crying so steadily, and so silently.

With a deep sense of relief, he heard the minister say the final words, words that would release him from this horrible ordeal and allow him to return home so he could cry about his mother’s death in private, no longer surrounded by all these people who had shown up to pay their respects. Just a few more minutes, he told himself and glanced back at the little girl. Yes, the tears were still falling and that oddly soothed him, allowed some of the pain of this end-of-life ritual to ease slightly. It was almost as if she were crying the tears he wanted to release, but couldn’t because it wasn’t appropriate due to his position. As the only son of the Earl of Locton, Edward knew that he had to maintain his stoic demeanor and he would not embarrass his father by showing any emotion during this ceremony.

He pulled his eyes away from the little girl’s angelic face, feeling slightly better now. He knew he could face the rest of the afternoon, the reception and all of the handshaking. The sorrow was still there, but he didn’t feel as if his grief were crushing him, constricting his chest. Taking a deep breath, he followed his father out of the cemetery. He looked back where he thought Jessica Mallory would be but she wasn’t there. Johanna Holbrook stood in her place. When he caught her eye accidentally, Johanna bowed her blond head slightly, not even a hint of a smile showing during this somber procession and the tears were well hidden. Edward acknowledged the girl’s nod before ducking into the limousine behind his father.

“You did well son,” George said.

Edward sat in the limousine, his eyes staring out at the cold, autumn day while their driver pulled away from the cemetery. He saw Johanna once again, her hands folded politely in front of her while her parents conversed softly with other mourners. She didn’t look up, she didn’t fidget and her blond tresses were neatly pulled back into a smooth pony tail. She was young, he thought she might be about six years old but wasn’t sure. At sixteen, he generally knew of the other members of the community, but someone that young wouldn’t be in his group of friends.

The limousine turned a corner and he caught sight of Jessica once again. The girl was still staring at him, or at least at the vehicle as it slowly maneuvered through the twisting cemetery streets. Her brunette curls flew out in every direction as the cold wind picked up. Her tiny hand was held in her mother’s larger one and her eyes watched as Edward’s limousine drove down the cemetery street. Again, Edward wasn’t positive, but he thought she might be Jessica Mallory and was about four or five years old. Why was she staring at his vehicle like that? She couldn’t see him due to the tinted windows, but there was something about her gaze that still struck him as….soothing, almost comforting. It was almost like he could feel her gaze and it stirred something inside of him, something that eased the pain a small amount. He pushed the feeling aside, reminding himself that showing emotions wasn’t allowed. Even being content right now would be inappropriate and his father would not approve. A blank face was what his father expected throughout the day.

There were no other words from his father, but the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder back at the house, accepting each person’s condolences with a somber thank you or simple nod before they were invited to share in the reception.

It seemed as if the line would never end but when he turned to the next person, he was surprised to see the blond Johanna standing beside her mother, Ellen Holbrook. Her blue eyes quickly revealed her sympathy before she hid that behind a cool mask of politeness. Ellen was greeting Edward’s father, so Edward took the offered hand as Johanna lifted her cool, blue eyes up to Edward. “I’m terribly sorry about your mother’s passing,” she said softly.

Edward bowed slightly, taking the six year old’s cold hand in his. “Thank you very much, Lady Johanna,” he said with the same amount of civility. He thought she was very pretty and appreciated her decorum. It was rare in someone so young.

Johanna’s mother touched the young girl’s shoulder and Johanna stepped out of the way, folding her hands in front of her and allowing her mother the appropriate few moments of relative privacy to express her own condolences. Edward bowed at Ellen’s comments as well before they moved off.

Edward turned to glance out the door, trying to determine how much longer this would take. His eyes opened wider as he spotted the little brunette…and she was staring right back at him, those soulful eyes gave him pause. When it was finally her turn to greet him, Edward took her hand. It wasn’t cold. In fact, her warm, chubby hand wasn’t even empty.

“This is for you,” she whispered and looked back at her father, ensuring that she wasn’t overheard or her gift seen by a parent. “It’s for you, to remember your mother by,” she said. A moment later, she was gone and Edward looked down at his palm. In it, she’d placed one white rose, the petals perfectly formed and one leaf still intact.

Startled, Edward looked up, his heart hurting at the memory of all the white roses that had covered his mother’s coffin and surrounded her grave site. The little girl had torn one of those roses off, keeping it safe for him.

A part of him wanted to crush the flower, to tear it apart just like the pain that was once again ripping through his body. The rose reminded him that his mother was now gone, that he’d never see her face or feel her warm hand on his shoulder or gently stroke his cheek. She’d never slip into his room at night to give him one more kiss goodnight. He was sixteen years old and those small things shouldn’t matter to him. He should be strong. He shouldn’t need his mother’s soft touch or her sweet perfume.

And damn this rose!

All those memories were rushing back, threatening to smother him. He took a deep, shuddering breath and pushed them down, forcing his mind to ignore those memories. He wouldn’t think about that right now. Later, when he was alone.

He slipped the rose into his pocket, careful to not hurt the petals but needing the image out of his head. With iron determination, he turned to the next person in line, wondering if he’d missed anything during that horrible moment when he’d let his guard down.

Little girls! What did they know?! With a blank face, he accepted the next handshake, the next comment about what a wonderful person his mother was. The ritual continued over and over again. Edward had no concept of time, just sheer grit getting him through the day and helping him to not break down as he thought about that flower in his pocket.

Jessica….

She watched him closely, her small hand tucked into the warm security of her own mother’s hand. She couldn’t imagine losing her mother but Edward looked like he was bored. She knew that he wasn’t though. Something inside her told her that the teenage boy was in pain but trying very hard to pretend otherwise. She didn’t know how she knew, but as she watched him, she felt his pain as if it were a living, breathing force that drifted angrily among the mourners who were sitting politely at the graveside, all of them also hiding their emotions behind polite masks of either concern or blank stares.

She knew that the boy wouldn’t cry, so she did it for him, wishing he could release his pain so that he could mourn his momma properly. It wasn’t right that he sat there so still, the pain of his loss written all over his face and in the stiffness of his shoulders, his whole body. Everything about Edward Livingston was stiff and sad and angry. She knew this, felt it and wanted to run over and wrap her arms around him. But she didn’t. She sat in between her mother and her father, behaving properly and demurely, just as she’d been told to do all morning long. But she couldn’t stop her tears. If he wouldn’t cry for his mother’s death, Jessica would do it for him. She could cry silently for all of the pain he was feeling but didn’t think he could show in front of the guests. She’d help him in this way and hopefully, some of his sadness would ease.

When the funeral was over, she kept her eyes on him, willing him to let it out, to yell and scream and feel the sadness she knew he was feeling. But as the limousine rolled away with the sad man inside, her tiny heart wrenched for the despondent boy she knew he was.

As the limousine moved forward, out of sight and towards the house where the reception was to be held, she had an idea that might help him through this difficult period. She looked up, knew that her mother was distracted enough talking to the lady from the church so she was conscious of the fact that she had only a few more moments. Jessica pulled her hand out of her mother’s and slowly walked over to the burial site. With a twist and a pinch, she took one of the roses from the large bouquet beside the grave. She wanted to climb down into the hole and get one of the roses that rested on the coffin, but that idea terrified her. The bouquet rose would have to do and she held it by her side, hiding it from everyone else by tucking it inside the folds of her dark jacket and dress.

As she and her parents moved to their own limousine, Jessica was careful to not let anyone see her stolen flower. They would take it away, probably toss it out the window like it was trash. But it wasn’t. She knew it would help the sad boy. Maybe it would make him smile to know that he had a part of his momma’s flowers with him.

The line to get into the house was long but Jessica gritted her teeth and stood as still as possible next to her parents. They spoke softly to the people in front and in back of them in the line, but there wasn’t anyone she could talk to. She wanted to run over to the small pond beside this house and look into the water, see what might be hiding in the murky depths or climb the old oak tree she saw in the distance with the perfect low-hanging branches, but she knew that her father would be upset with that kind of activity. Reverence for the deceased and respect for the living had been hammered into her head this morning over and over again so she was trying very hard to be still, which seemed like all they needed her to do. She had no idea how to be reverent or even what that meant. Respect, at least in her father’s household, meant little people like her being as quiet as possible.

When they finally reached the receiving line, Jessica peered around the thick coats of the woman in front of her. Yes, the boy was still there and yes, his eyes were filled with pain, just as they had been at the funeral but there were no tears or any other indication that he was sad. His face was completely blank and Jessica suspected that she was the only one who could see past his polite smiles.

When she reached him, she put her hand out, just like all the others, her big, brown eyes watching him carefully in case he needed more from her. When he bent down slightly, she looked up at him, her heart breaking for all the pain and sadness he was probably feeling. “This is for you,” she whispered.

She said something else, but was too nervous of being caught, and the surprise in his eyes made her knees shake so she hurried off, finding a chair she could sit in and become inconspicuous. Why had she done something so silly? She sat on the edge of the chair, her face a blank mask as she worked hard to not cry. Funerals had enough people crying, they didn’t need a five year old girl who just felt ridiculous crying.

While the adults moved around the room, talking quietly and sipping drinks, Jessica watched it all, taking everything in. She loved watching people, seeing their reactions to different events or comments. She saw the anger and frustration behind the polite masks. So many people milling about who really didn’t want to be here but they all pretended that they were fine. When she got to be an adult, she promised herself she wouldn’t do anything that she didn’t want to do! And she would never, ever sit still!

Thirteen years later….

Jessica walked through the halls of school, smiling to her friends who were eagerly rushing to meet their parents. Jessica thought about her father who she knew was waiting to pick her up outside. She’d received a text from him just a few moments ago and knew that she should already be out there, but these were her last few moments of freedom and she wasn’t exactly eager to be going home, even if she hadn’t seen her parents in the past three months.

Boarding school was more of a home to her than the house in which she’d grown up. She could be herself here and she loved the friendships she’d made. Besides, her father wanted to send her off to finishing school next year while all of her other friends were getting ready for university.

She walked out into the late spring sunshine and immediately spotted her father. How could she miss him? He was pacing back and forth in front of his Mercedes, glancing at his watch impatiently. Why hadn’t he just sent her a ticket and money to catch a cab to the train station? Why had he even bothered to show up here to school to pick her up?

“Hello father,” she said as she stepped forward where he could see her.

Joseph looked at his daughter, surveying her immaculate appearance with a critical eye. “Hello, Jessica. It’s good to see you,” he said and leaned forward, putting his arms around her but not really hugging her. It was more of an air hug. He would say that he didn’t want to mess up her pressed shirt, but it really came down to two things. First and foremost, he didn’t want her to wrinkle his shirt. And secondly, he didn’t really like children, even his own offspring.

She understood her father perfectly. Unlike some of her other friends who resented their fathers for their long absences or their strict natures, Jessica accepted that her father had procreated solely in order to carry on the family name. Unfortunately, he and Jessica’s mother were only able to have a female, much to her father’s everlasting irritation. Females, according to her father, could not carry on the family name and his legacy would be lost. Males were preferred in his mind.

Oh, he loved her, in his own way and she respected him as a good provider and a man she knew she could trust. Jessica didn’t hate him for his lack of affection or his desire to have a son. She understood him, even though it hurt sometimes that fates had conspired to limit their relationship simply because of her gender. At the end of every day, she knew he was proud of her accomplishments and was more than eager to debate issues with her over dinner. But if she ever scored a winning point in the argument, his response was always, “Females just don’t understand,” and he would then change the subject. In other words, there were limits to his affection which she had accepted a long time ago.

“How was the drive?” she asked as she handed her luggage over to her father’s driver who in turn loaded it into the trunk of the car.

“Long,” he snapped. “Would you care to tell me why you are the last girl out of the dormitories today?” he asked sternly as he held the door to the back seat open for her.

Jessica glanced back to her dormitory building and saw several other girls exiting at that moment. Her father had always been prone to exaggeration when it came to her deficiencies and she’d learned to just pretend like it didn’t bother her. She thought quickly, coming up with a reasonable explanation for her presumed tardiness. “I was hand delivering several thank you notes to my professors. They’ve been very valuable this year,” she lied, and didn’t have any guilt over the fib. Her father was being unreasonable, again, and this was her coping mechanism. She mitigated her guilt by being scrupulously honest with all others who weren’t as impatient and domineering.

Her father nodded, accepting her answer. “How were your classes this semester?” he asked, looking straight ahead.

Jessica went through her classes, explaining her perfect marks but knowing that he would prefer details rather than just the end result. When she was finished, he turned to face her. “You’ve become a very well rounded young lady, Jessica. I’m proud of you. And once you’ve completed finishing school, you’ll be married and have a very successful marriage.”

Jessica cringed inwardly, not wanting to attend finishing school or get married just yet. She’d been anticipating this conversation for months, knowing what his plans were for her but not having the courage to contradict him, but also unwilling to follow his plan. “Father, I appreciate all that you’ve done for me and I know the Kilton School is an excellent finishing school.”

He nodded sagely. “Yes, many good marriages are formed once a woman has finalized her classes at Kilton’s, as you well know. Your mother was also a graduate and I have high expectations for you as well. By the time you have finished in two years, I expect Robert Rothston to be prepared to marry. He would be an excellent candidate for a groom, Jessica.”

Jessica couldn’t stop the grimace from crossing her features but thankfully her father was looking out the left side window at that moment. Her eyes looked at the driver who was glancing at her in the rear view mirror. He quickly glanced away as soon as she caught him, but she knew that he’d seen her. There was nothing to do but confront her father now.

“Father, I’m not going to marry Robert Rothston,” she declared firmly. It had nothing to do with the ridiculous alliteration in the man’s first and last name. “I’m going to the University Of London on a full scholarship. I’ll be studying in their psychology department.” There, she’d said it and she let out the air that had been burning in her lungs.

Her father’s head turned slowly to face his daughter and Jessica tried very hard to hide the shaking of her hands by folding them in her lap. “Excuse me?” he said ominously.

Jessica knew this was the first time she’d ever openly defied him. She’d done it several times when he wasn’t aware, by taking certain classes at school or traveling to places without his knowledge. But completely defying him in this manner, by telling him that she was not going to marry and, even worse, that she’d gone and made plans for herself that he had no control over…this was going to be a blowup argument.

But this was her life and she was now an adult. Her father could kick her out of the house, in which case she would have to find an apartment, get a job and pay any extra expenses herself. As she’d considered this option over the past year, she’d formed plans, researched issues and wasn’t afraid of anything facing her other than her father’s wrath. So many other students faced college with much less. She wasn’t afraid of hard work or even poverty.

“And if I won’t allow this?” he asked, still turned away from her.

She took a deep breath and held it for a moment before saying, “I know that you’re going to disapprove. And that’s fine. You have the power not only to disown me for this decision but I know you also have the power to eliminate the scholarship I earned. If you feel that I’ve wronged you so horribly, I can leave the house and find housing on my own. I understand that you have a certain plan set out for me and I’m flying in the face of those plans. But this is what I’m going to do. Even if you cut me off, I will work full time as a waitress in some horrible, greasy spoon, and love it by the way, while I attend school on my own. But I’m not marrying as my career. I’m going to do something wonderful and productive with my life.”

She waited for his response, but after several minutes of silence, he only said, “We’ll discuss this later.”

Jessica slumped into the comfortable leather seat, wondering what was going through his mind. But she’d won this battle, at least for now and she was satisfied.

Learn more about The Earl's Outrageous Lover, book one of three in The Lovers Exchange  Series

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