The Earl of Highmott Hall: A Regency Cinderella by Nina Clare

Author:Nina Clare [Clare, Nina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: lost&foundStories
Published: 2020-11-28T18:00:00+00:00

14

There was little time for anything outside of the preparations for the ball. On Thursday Lord Marbury had been directed to visit the local shops and workshops in the village. Everyone was glad to make his acquaintance. The farrier talked of the old days when trade was brisk, the stables of Highmott Hall supplying regular work to him. The brewer reminisced about the days when the plentiful harvests of Highmott lands supplied superior, affordable grain for his ale; the locally made beer by the name of The Earl’s Bounty had been famous in all the shire. It had been a great many years since a vat of Earl’s Bounty had been brewed, he lamented.

The miller’s grandfather was ancient enough to recall the time when all the grain came solely from Highmott’s fields. There had been no buying in at inflated prices from the markets then. The head weaver recalled the fields of Highmott sheep supplying the best wool in four counties, and the dairy master declared the milk of Highmott cows made the best cheese in six counties, and it was a sad loss that the herds had long since dwindled down.

Lord Marbury met the baker, the taverner, the chandler, the blacksmith – all of them struggling to make more than a meagre living for their families. He heard of the glory days of Highmott village, the whole land overflowing with milk and honey, thanks to the rich pastures and good management of Highmott land.

‘Your head must be as fat as a corn-fed hog,’ remarked Neville, as they rode home. ‘The whole village singing the praises of the new earl, come to save them all and restore the land to its former glory.’

‘It was you they were gazing at in adoration,’ Lord Marbury reminded him. He felt vexed at this continued duplicity. When Neville had proposed this mad scheme of swapped identities, he had only thought as far as meeting Miss Asher under the pretence. It had not occurred to him that a whole village would be caught up in the farce.

‘They won’t care which of us is the earl, when it all comes out,’ said Neville. ‘As long as you raise their fortunes.’

‘If it all comes out,’ said Lord Marbury quietly.

‘If?’ cried Neville. ‘You can’t let them all down now. What’s to stop you? Miss Asher is a pleasant enough chit for a wife. More than pleasant, I’ll warrant.’

‘I don’t think I can ever love her,’ said Lord Marbury, in a tone more sorry than resentful.

Neville was about to say again what he thought about Lord Marbury’s romantic notions of love, but the Beast had decided that it was time for a canter now that a stretch of greensward lay before them, and Neville took off whether he wished to or not.

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