A Soulmate for the Distant Earl (Preview)

Chapter One

“She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes.”

Caroline brushed her hair as she recited the poem, finding it quite amusing rather than romantic. It wasn’t that she could not appreciate poetry, but she was tired of suitors ill-using it. If a beau were to describe her as such, she might laugh and called him a ninny-hammered nodcock. Well, perhaps not in the presence of her parents.

“They may lock me in my bedchamber and refuse to release me until I curbed my tongue!”

That was not to say that they were not aware of her sharp tongue, but in their presence she usually veiled her comments as backhanded compliments. That way, everyone was aware of what she meant, but her parents could do little more than raise an eyebrow pregnant with meaning. Such were the ways of her parents – polite to a fault in the presence of strangers, but staunch disciplinarians in the comfort of their own home.

“Mr. and Mrs Pemberton are famously polite!” she mocked. “Why, they could eat a consommé infested with flies and still comment on its wonderful subtle flavours. Compliments to the cook, my good man!” she said, using her father’s voice. “The flies lend a perfect accompaniment to the soup.”

She giggled at the thought, proud of herself for imitating her father’s gruff voice so well. Perhaps they were not as terrible as she made them to be, but her current mood could make the most pious of people into Gothic villains dwelling in phantom-infested castles. Her lips pursed, she paused, her hand suspended in the air.

“Now, what stroke count is this? Oh, dear,” she said with a touch of the melodramatic. “I may have to start again.”

She really hadn’t a care about doing so. In fact, she welcomed the delay. Caroline held to the ‘one hundred strokes for shiny hair’ rule, a painstaking activity that she usually performed before bed, but this evening was an exception. Moving the heavy locks to the other shoulder, she began the count again as she reflected on the evening ahead. They were due to attend a dinner given by the Duke and Duchess of Radcliffe, and she was doing all that she could to delay their departure in the hopes that her parents would decide to leave her behind. The chances of that happening were slim to none, but there was no harm in trying. She was aware that Henry and her parents were waiting in the drawing-room downstairs, discussing who they may encounter at the dinner party, and who did what during the last one. Or rather, her parents were discussing possible guests while Henry daydreamed about his love, Lady Matilda Blackmore. Caroline certainly did not need to witness the scene in the drawing-room to know that she was correct for the simple fact that her family were a people of habit.

“I stick out as the oddling I am, with my love of spontaneity and a joie de vivre, concepts unknown by the respectable Pembertons.”

In a world of grey and black, she embodied every colour of the rainbow in an effort to swim against what she considered the stifling attitude of the English. Ever since she had picked up her first novel of foreign lands and people, Caroline had grown distinctly aware that her life was lacking in, well, life. At first she had believed her family to be the only ones stuck in a rut of drudgery, but as she had looked around at the other families of their acquaintance, she had swiftly come to the conclusion that the whole of England seemed to have the same problem. Oh, she had heard about colourful escapades, debauched lifestyles, and people who went against the grain, but all that appeared far removed from her world. How can I be expected to marry into such a life when I already find it such a dead bore? If she were to be married, she often thought that a villain would be far preferable to an odious man who spouted poetry without the least knowledge of what romance truly was.

“Poetry cannot only be understood but it has to be felt. If I were to find a man who spoke poetry in truth, I may be inclined to pay him attention.”

But therein lay her problem. The very reason why, at two and twenty, she was an unwed maiden. You see, she was intolerant of empty, flowery words that held no truth to them. The sad fact was that these empty words appeared to be the mode d’emploi for every Englishman when it came to courting a young woman. It was all an act, an illusion, a trick for a suitor to capture his bride and rule her. Not all men followed this pattern, but Caroline had yet to find a man who didn’t.

“Matilda claims that Henry says the prettiest of things, but he is truly in love.”

Her brother understood the power of words, and he spoke them in truth and without a stitch of deceit.

“Men like Henry are far and few between. I shall be hard-pressed to find someone who will cherish me as he does Matilda.”

But Caroline did not only wish to be cherished or treated like a fragile vase; she wanted a suitor who understood and accepted her, and who could hold an intelligent conversation with her without the need to mould her into what he deemed the perfect wife. Her conditions for the ideal husband were nigh impossible, but she would not deviate from them. Oh, she knew that this was a source of resentment for her parents, but marriage was not a venture to be taken lightly. In most cases, it was a noose that was placed around a person’s neck much like a ring was placed on a finger. As the years progress, that noose begins to tighten until it takes the life out of its victims and leaves them lifeless.

“Should I be married for the sake of it? Can I not at least find someone who will not reduce me into a docile mouse?”

Gazing at her reflection in the looking glass, she wondered if perhaps her appearance lulled men into a false sense of confidence around her. Many had pursued her, and like any other woman of their time, she entertained them with all the poise accredited to her by her education. However, once she took off her mask and spoke as herself, suitors tended to run off like stags, leaping over each other in an effort to flee from her sharp tongue. It would have been comical if not for the scolding that would soon ensue. It seemed that her every move was monitored by her parents, while her brother enjoyed all the freedom of the first child and son. She did not begrudge Henry their attention and approval for she loved her brother, but she would be deceiving herself if she did not admit to a feeling hatred, just the tiniest bit, at her parents’ ongoing favouritism. It was a sore subject, and one that she seldom reflected upon.

“What would be the use? They are unlikely to change, and yet I have tried to change myself often enough to please them.”

She had tried to deny her very nature for their sake, but it could not remain stifled for prolonged periods. Thank goodness that Henry understood her! Her brother was a source of comfort; the only one she could turn to when everyone seemed against her. It would be a sad day once he left the house to embark on marital life. Without his presence, she would be all alone.

“There is no reason to despair just yet. Henry has not asked for Matilda’s hand, which means that I still have some time left with him.”

But what if he should ask for the woman’s hand within the month? Caroline adored the younger woman and would not mind her becoming her sister-in-law, but having her brother make Matilda an official member of the family would mean a change in their sibling dynamics.

“’Tis bound to happen, I simply must learn to accept it and think of what I shall gain.”

She smiled, thinking of the sweet woman who had captured her brother’s heart. If only she was not related to that excuse for a human. Caroline loathed Matilda’s brother, Francis. He was the bane of her existence, a thorn in her side. She had managed an entire year of avoiding him, a year of never having to see that smug face that she could quite gladly sink her balled fist into. I would likely break my hand in the process. The man does have a tendency to make my life miserable.

“Cod’s head,” she muttered darkly.

It was a good thing that her mother was nowhere around to hear her describe him with such words. Such vulgar language was unbecoming of a woman of her bearing and education. Perhaps they should not have hired an old sailor to take care of their precious garden. Bill, as he was known by all, had been with them for going on ten years, an ancient man who appeared to know more about flowers and plants than he did the seven seas. Caroline could not understand why he would become a sailor if land was his preferred choice, but he seldom spoke about his time on the seas unless she begged him. She knew that the ship he had once worked on had been attacked by pirates, prompting him to return to England a scarred man, but that was the only knowledge she had of his reasons for so drastically changing his employment. As an act of charity her father had hired him at the request of a merchant friend, but Bill had soon proven his worth by turning the Pemberton garden into a piece of wonder and beauty that was coveted for miles around. People had tried to lure him away with higher salaries and benefits, but the quiet man remained loyal to her family.

“My mind has forever more been sullied by his use of inappropriate language,” she chuckled. “I shall never quite see the world as I used to.”

How many times had she been on the brink of uttering an offensive word, only to bite her tongue? Perhaps it would be beneficial to her to spend a little less time with the man, but she highly doubted that she would heed her own advice. Bill was fascinating to her, and while he could be gruff, her elephant hide-like skin would keep it from penetrating her.

“Is an elephant’s hide tough? Bill said that he once saw a herd of them during his travels.”

She would have to ask him tomorrow during her morning walk. An abrupt intrusion into her room had her cherry-wood brush soaring out of her hand, landing several feet away from her.

“Caroline! I might have known that you were daydreaming!” her mother accused. “Do you know the time?”
“Goodness, Mother! How you have frightened me.”

She left her chair, fetching her brush before returning to her seat. Two spots of colour had appeared on her cheeks, but she was determined not to feel terrible about her ploy to be left behind.

“Ha! You are never frightened of anything, not even living out your days as a spinster. Tell me, why are you not ready?”

How many times did the word spinster need to be thrown in her face? She was two-and-twenty; she had at least another two years before its meaning took root.

“Am I late? Goodness! I was brushing my hair and must have let time run away from me.”

“Brushing your hair for nearly an hour?”

Had that much time truly passed? Yes! Perhaps she would be left to continue her book. The Mysteries of Udolpho was a book she had been trying to acquire for months now, and she was only just about getting into it. The last thing she had wanted to do was attend a dinner party when her plans had included staying at home and reading her book with a lovely cup of tea at her side.

“Mother, you always say that I should make myself presentable in the hopes that I shall catch a gentleman’s eye. You have always considered my hair to be my glory, thus I have to make sure that it shines beautifully.”

Indeed, her brown locks looked thick and luscious against her pale skin, gleaming in the candlelit room. Her mother’s lips were pursed as though she pondered upon the truth of her statement, her narrowed gaze fastening Caroline to her chair until a trickle of perspiration ran down her back. Finally, she spoke.

“All the beauty in the world will do nothing for you if you cannot curb your tongue.”

I was waiting for her to say something of this nature. She was prepared for it. How could she not be when it was a frequently discussed topic in their household?

“I have been practising several lovely things to say this evening, Mother. ‘Tis why I have been looking at my own reflection all this while. I wish my countenance to appear as authentic as possible when I speak these foreign words.”

She smiled sweetly then, her dimples showing. Her mother peered closely at her, likely looking for deceit.

“Foreign words, indeed. There is no telling the truth with you, but I suggest that you call in your abigail, your ladies’ maid, to help you dress. I have the strongest of notions that you sent her out of your room so that you could take your time getting ready. Well, I tell you right now that if this is another of your antics to avoid the Dukes and Duchess’ dinner, then you are sadly mistaken in believing that we shall leave without you. Whatever would they say? You must understand that they are doing it to welcome their son home.”

Caroline’s hand went to her throat. “You lie, Mother! Francis has not returned.”

“Why are earth would I lie about such a thing? What a ridiculous girl you are! One would think that I had not a stitch of sense when I raised you, not understanding that you have had an iron will of your own since birth. I’ve done my best by you, Caroline, but you have rewarded me with problem after problem, refusing to mend your ways…”

As her mother droned on and on about her shortcomings, Caroline could only think of the repercussions of seeing Francis again. The man had travelled to Portugal with his father for some reason or other, but when the Duke had returned without his son she could not have been happier. As month after month had passed without a single incident of them meeting, she became confident that he might never return due to him marrying a pretty titled lady and remaining in that country. Indeed, it had been nothing more than a fantasy, but she had so convinced herself of it that she had begun to believe it.

“Are you listening?” her mother demanded.

“Yes, Mother. I shall call in Georgie and have her help me.”

“I shall call her in – you cannot be trusted to do so. I expect you to be done in the next half hour and do wear the pink silk dress that I picked out for you. We cannot afford to look shabby against the other guests. We are privileged to have the Duke and Duchess inviting us to their parties, thus we must dress the part.”

“But I wished to wear the navy with the gold trimming.”

“You will wear the pink with the white embroidery as well as your grandmother’s pearls.”

Caroline wished to argue bitterly about it, but in this she knew her mother would not budge.

“Very well.”

Her mother nodded, satisfied. “I shall send Georgette to you.”

Then she was gone. Caroline poked her tongue out, the only defiance she allowed herself at that moment. Leaning her elbows on her vanity table, she fretted about the night ahead. What calamity would befall her tonight? Francis had returned and would undoubtedly target her with his cleverly created barbs. How was it that he could get away with ridiculing her in public, but she could not do the same? She couldn’t care a fig tree about his title as earl. As far as she was concerned he was the mud on her shoes, the annoying dust that settled on her clothes after an open-carriage ride.

“Goodness! To think that I was fortunate thus far, but now I shall have to deal with a pompous fool with more air between his ears than sense.”

A sharp knock on the door led her to think that her mother had returned, but Henry stood there, his quiet smile waiting for admittance.

“Do come in, Henry. Is anything the matter? Mother has just been in to scold me – I hope that she has not sent you to do the same?”

“Oh no,” he said. “Nothing like that. I only wished to ask that you and the earl would not come to verbal blows tonight. I know how much you despise him, but he is Matilda’s elder brother.”

Caroline’s sea-green eyes sparked. “If he will stay out of my way, I see no reason to come to blows.”
Sighing, her brother took a seat on the edge of her bed. “I was afraid you might say that. I cannot understand why you dislike him so. Matilda fairly worships her brother and believes that he can do no wrong, and yet you despise the very sight of him.”

“The difference is that I am not his sister – thank goodness for that! However, for your sake, I shall be as civil as I possibly can.”

“That promise is not good enough.”

Her nostrils flared. “Why don’t you take a dagger and lodge it into my back? That shall be more bearable to acting friendly with such a cretin.”

“Heavens, Caro! You are all too melodramatic, you know. Sometimes I wonder if an evil faerie did not swap you at birth with one of their own kind. You certainly look the part.”

Caroline was aware that her beauty was rare and unusual. Her eyes, in particular, were a source of unwanted attention as they were known to change as her mood did.

“Mother thinks that I may be the devil’s child from all the trouble I give her. ‘Tis strange how I never mean to do anything untoward, but I manage to do so without much thought to it.”

It seemed that whatever she did was a cause for worry. Even spending her time reading throughout the day was questionable behaviour.

“They say that our great grandmother was as impish as you were right up until her death.”

Caroline looked at the painting of the woman next to her armoire, seeing the eyes that were much like her own. Had the woman been just like her?

“She would have caused quite the scandal in her time, but I have never heard of any stories about her.”
Henry smiled knowingly. “If Father were to tell you of his grandmother’s escapades, don’t you think that you would attempt to relive them? You can never resist mischief.”

Caroline bit the inside of her cheek. “I resent that.”

That brought forth a bark of laughter from her brother. “But ’tis all too true! You cannot claim innocence when I have been present for most of your impish ways.”

“Present? I seem to remember your involvement in many a plan. Oftentimes, you were the one to execute the plans.”

“Yes! For fear of you being caught by Mother and earning a boxing to your ears.”

“Strange how she would never bring you to task for your misdeeds, but I was held over the fire of her questions as though I were a witch on trial. Perhaps she thinks me a witch.”

“Perhaps, but she will never say it out loud for fear of others believing the same thing. Your appearance is enough to convince anyone that there is something different about you. How many women can boast eyes that change like the weather, hair that falls thickly to your knees, skin that bears a dim glow-”

“Yes, yes, I know, but that is hardly of my doing, is it? I did not ask the heavens to look like this and correct me if I err, but you bear the very same eyes.”

“Yes, but they are nowhere near as striking as yours. Why, Matilda made a comment about you just the other day and said that you were unlike any female she has had the privilege of knowing, and feels firmly convinced that you might grow wings at any moment.”

Caroline chuckled at this description. “Bless her heart! What an odd thing to say. I would not mind growing wings if it meant that I could fly away from this life.”

Henry frowned, his eyes searching hers. “Surely life cannot be that challenging, Caro?”

She lifted one shoulder, and dropped it. “I suppose that depends wholly on the day. But enough about my life; I suggest you leave this room before Mother assumes that I have called you to further delay our departure.”

“She would be inclined to think so, wouldn’t she? She knows that I come to your rescue more often than not. ”

“Precisely. Georgie should be on her way to help me get ready – I had sent her away some hours ago to pick me some flowers for my room.”

“Oh, I see. You certainly had thought this little plan through, didn’t you? ‘Tis too bad it was doomed to fail from the very beginning. Well, I shall take your leave and await you downstairs – do not have Mother come back here again.”

“I know, and I shan’t.”

He smiled, patting her head. “Do you? Will you?”

He left her room shaking his head, and her abigail following soon after. Upon seeing her, she wrung her hands, her eyes wide.

“Whatever is the matter?” Caroline questioned.

“I wasn’t able to find the flowers you wanted, Miss. Mr Bill refused me entrance into his garden.”
Amused, she lifted an eyebrow. “And what did you do after that?”

“I went into the woods to find the flowers.”

“I suppose you didn’t find any?”

The maid shook her head, looking down. “No, Miss.”

Knowing full well that her ladies’ maid would not have been able to complete her order, she was not in the least bit angry with her. I had planned it, after all.

“Do not pay it any more mind, Georgie. Come, help me with my hair before Mother comes back.”

As they struggled to arrange her hair in the fashion of the day, Caroline’s mind ran with thoughts of coming face-to-face with the man she considered her life enemy. Would they immediately seek to lash out at each other? I cannot do so, for I have promised Henry to remain civil towards that cretin. I hope that I am not seated next to him, or I might lose my dinner.

Francis checked his watch for the umpteenth time, tucking it back into his pocket soon after. Why was he so anxious about this dinner? Perhaps because he had not been to one in his own country for some time. With Napoleon seeking to take the whole of Portugal for his own agenda and the royal family fleeing to Brazil, balls and parties had not been at the top of his list. He was thankful to be back in his own native country but did not appreciate the dinner party his parents were insisting was a necessary part of introducing him back into society. He had a feeling it had more to do with him finding a wife and producing an heir to continue the family line than an actual welcome dinner. He had not bothered to listen to their list of people attending; indeed, he was hardly troubled by such things. He would do his duty by his parents by being present and behaving respectfully with their guests, but once he was able to slip away, he would do so.

Hearing some commotion by the doorway he rested his forearms on the balustrade upstairs, looking down into the hallway. His sister’s mongrel appeared happy to see some guests, but he could not tell who they were from his viewpoint. He took a step to his side, catching sight of a buxom girl leaning down as she petted the yapping creature.

“Why does Matilda insist on letting that annoying little dog out? She should lock him away when there are guests.”

Never mind the fact that he had been the one to get her the dog. He had thought that the Pomeranian would be the perfect companion for her while he was away, but the little dog was afforded every privilege in the house – including appearances during meal times. That had been the breaking point for him, and he had ordered she keep the thing away from him or he would never take his repast with her again. His sister’s big blue eyes had been affronted, but she had listened, having her ladies’ maid keep the creature with her until after the meal had concluded.

Wondering who the well-endowed woman was, he leaned further on the balustrade, nearly leaping back when her smiling face lifted.

“Caroline?”

He had been ogling Caroline? He ought to burn his eyeballs for doing so! How did that annoying chit come to be here?

He thumped his brow. “Of course, Mother and Father would have invited them as they are close neighbours.”

He moved back to the balustrade, resuming his leaning position. She looked different this evening, more grown-up. The pink silk of her gown gave her a girlish look, but there was nothing girlish about her figure. Had she put on weight? Well, it had gone to all the right places. His approval of her form left him disconcerted and a faint warning told him to back away, but he couldn’t move. Her hair had been piled atop her head, but it looked so heavy that it might have toppled her over if not for her generous size. A triple string of pearls adorned her neck, emphasizing her pale complexion that he had always found fascinating although he would never admit it. He and Caroline had an ongoing war, and nothing could make him admit anything remotely favourable about her. Her presence was a source of annoyance for him, but his treacherous male mind-set appreciated her beauty. When had he come to think of her as anything but a troll in the form of a girl? Watching her walk behind her parents with the animal in her arms, he could not help but be struck by her smile, her rounded arms as she held the dog, the graceful way she walked… had he gone mad? Francis gave a little slap to his face, willing himself to wake up from whatever he was experiencing.

“What the devil is the matter with me?”

Shaking his head, his eyes continued to follow Caroline as her family made their way to the parlour. He saw her pause, her head tilted as though she were thinking about something. When her entire body turned in his direction, he swiftly moved behind the draping he had once considered ridiculous. Today, it had saved him from being discovered. Cautiously looking down he noticed how her eyes swept the upstairs landing, a tiny frown between her dark eyebrows. Had she seen him? To his relief, Mrs Pemberton called out to her and she hurried along, allowing him to come out of his hiding place. Well, he certainly felt like a fool. Why did he hide away? This was his house; there was no reason for him to shy away as though he had done something wrong. However, for some inexplicable reason, he had not wanted Caroline to know that he had been staring down at her.

“She has made herself a darned nuisance and the evening has yet to begin.”

What more would she do to him? He did not wish to know.

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“A Soulmate for the Distant Earl” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Caroline Pemberton has everything a suitor might wish for in a wife- beauty; a sizeable dowry and a respectable family. Refusing to keep her sharp tongue tamed, she’s not interested in a suitor that can’t keep up with her dynamic nature. Perhaps she should reserve her wit solely for the pompous Earl of Seymour for he surely deserves it. Well, that would be easy if he didn’t look so dashing… Could she really be falling this fast for a man she used to despise?

Francis Blackmore, Earl of Seymour, enjoys his unmarried state, but having to deal with his childhood nemesis and her constant challenging attitude is not as entertaining. Caroline has been the bane of his existence for longer than he cares to count, so how could her breathtaking beauty suddenly be taking him by surprise? It would certainly be easier to avoid her if his sister wasn’t getting married to Caroline’s brother! Or at least, that’s what he says to himself, unwilling to admit how being with her has become the most unexpected joy of his life…

When a threat promises to ruin the wedding of their betrothed siblings, Caroline and Francis begrudgingly form an alliance to help them. They soon realise that spending time together is unavoidable, but so are the confusing and self-consuming feelings that arise between them. When they join forces for the greater good, sparks will fly… but if some of them catch on fire, their hearts might be at stake! Can they really set their long-held grievances aside, or will their stubborn nature ruin everything? Will their love manage to conquer their lifelong established pride?

“A Soulmate for the Distant Earl” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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