Earl of Brecken by Aubrey Wynne

Author:Aubrey Wynne [Wynne, Aubrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781946560186
Amazon: B08G513Y22
Goodreads: 55200907
Publisher: Plato Publishing
Published: 2021-03-09T06:00:00+00:00

The carriage dress of primrose yellow highlighted her dark honey-brown curls to perfection. Evelina adjusted the straw bonnet so it tilted just so… “Where’s the parasol? The sun is out today, and we’ll be in an open carriage.”

“Calm yourself, miss. It’s not as if he’s the first gentleman to take you for a ride,” said Louella as she fetched the parasol and reticule for her mistress.

Only the first to imperil my heart, she thought as she pushed her hand through the clutch of her reticule. Mama had declined the invitation, which made Evie anxious—in a good way. Sort of.

“Though I don’t blame you none, he’s very fine indeed,” added the maid. She held the wrist loop of the reticule open while her mistress slid her wrist through it.

“He’s here,” called her mother up the stairs. “Hurry, now. Don’t make him wait.”

She rolled her eyes at her mother’s impatience, but hurried down the hall when the butler’s deep voice announced the earl. Evie descended the stairs, and all thought vanished. Her world narrowed to those golden-brown eyes that flashed green and the breathtaking smile. Her heart pounded, and the wings in her belly took flight again.

“Miss Evelina, you are sunshine on a dark day,” he murmured as he bowed over her hand. “Are you sure you won’t join us, Lady Franklin?”

“No, but I thank you for the offer. Enjoy this lovely afternoon.”

And it was a beautiful day. They arrived to a dozen carriages and riders crowded along Rotten Row, making it difficult to stop and talk with acquaintances. Others strolled near the Serpentine.

“How are you adapting to life without your sister?” asked Lord Brecken.

“I shall endure, though I’m jealous. I haven’t seen my grandmother since last summer. I doubt if I’ll be able to visit this year.” She giggled. “Fenella will come back with Grandmama’s thick Scottish brogue and drive poor Mama mad.”

“This is your maternal grandmother?”

She nodded.

“Lady Franklin is a Scot? I’d have never guessed. She sounds so...”

“English? She’s half and half. My grandfather came from Manchester.” Evelina rolled her eyes. “My mother hates Scotland and her merchant beginnings—my grandparents have owned a bookstore in Glasgow for forty years. Mama considers all Scots as coarse brutes and strives to be very English. She even hired a tutor when she married Papa to teach her how to speak and behave like the aristocracy.”

“The Scots have much in common with the Welsh. Both are strong, stubborn, and like a good fight. My father was English by blood but raised as Welshman. He rarely took his seat in the House of Lords, preferring the wilds of Wales.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I never had any sisters, and my half-brother, Earl of Griffith, didn’t live with us.”

“But why?” She couldn’t imagine being alone as a child. Fenella was her best friend and confidante.

“Griff’s grandmother insisted he should live in his ancestral home and be raised on his own lands. When my mother remarried, there was a terrible argument, and it seems the dowager countess won. They have not spoken since, preferring correspondence when necessary to any actual conversation.

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