Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn

message 1: by Aly is so frigging bored (new)

Sep 28, 2020 11:37AM

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This is the time the hero finds out he's inherited and Earldom. It really shows his character and his perceived fears... It was hard to choose between this and the meeting with the heroine. Both are amazing. Enjoy

HERO knew laughter was not the correct response, but he couldn’t help himself. “An earl?” he repeated. “I’m a fucking earl?”
The chap across from him, HERO thought his name was MR SOLICITOR or some such, flinched at his vulgar response. Well, too bloody bad. He’d better get used to the fact that Lord HERO SURNAME , the new Earl of NAME, did and said whatever the hell he pleased.
“Yes, my lord. The Sixth Earl of NAME.”
“Good God,” he muttered. “Me, HERO SURNAME —a bloody earl.”
The other man cleared his throat.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” HERO demanded.
“I wanted to apprise you of the fact that the family name is actually Dornan.”
HERO shrugged. “You can call me Marie Bloody Antoinette if you like, but for the purposes of my significant business interests I will remain HERO SURNAME .”
The solicitor swallowed and nodded, his gaze shifting nervously.
Good, HERO liked to keep his subordinates on their toes. Hell, he liked keeping everyone he dealt with on his or her toes. Well, that wasn’t quite true; he actually enjoyed several other positions a great deal more.
The older man cleared his throat. “When it comes to your new duties, if you need assistance with, er, issues of deportment or —”
“I don’t need assistance with a damned thing and I’m plenty familiar with how nobs deport themselves.”
HERO had briefly rubbed shoulders with titled toffs at Oxford. Indeed, he’d quite liked several of them, until his arse had been tossed out for fucking the bagwig’s daughter. It wasn’t that he didn’t deserve getting tossed out because he most certainly had fucked her. But he’d been fucking her along with two others—a lord this and an honorable that—neither of whom had received so much as a slap on their delicate wrists for shoving their cocks into the little tart.
He shrugged off the ancient gripe; that was the way of the world.
HERO saw the other man was waiting, his eyes assessing him in a way that spoke as loudly as words. He was thinking, HERO suspected, that the new earl looked like a lord—or at least he greatly resembled the storybook princes one often saw in picture books.
HERO did look like those princes; fair-haired, blue-eyed, tall, and well formed, but he knew that he fairly reeked of dissipation. Still, that was yet another characteristic so many aristocrats possessed.
“So,” HERO said, leaning back in his chair and resting his expensively booted ankle on his knee. “What moldering pile did I inherit along with this fancy new moniker, Mr., er, what was your name again?”
“William MR SOLICITOR, my lord. I was his lordship’s man of business as were my father and grandfather.”
“His lordship must have had a lot of business to need all three of you.”
MR SOLICITOR looked pained. “I meant—”
HERO grinned. “I know what you meant Beeky—may I call you Beeky? You meant that it is a tradition of longstanding in your family to serve the Earls of NAME. I’m all for tradition, old thing. And I must say I am honored to now have you serving this earl.”
[…]
HERO pulled the heavy stacks of paper toward him, opening the one on top and flicking pages quickly.
“I daresay your lordship will require some time to—”
HERO kept turning pages, ignoring Beeky’s wittering. Only his closest associates knew he was able to absorb information this fast and faster from a page. It was, he supposed, a valuable skill although he’d long ago stopped feeling any pride in his ability. He didn’t need to look through many pages to see the state of affairs. Roof leaks, foundation cracks, rotten wood, some sort of disgusting house-eating beetle—HERO shivered at that—and myriad other disasters awaited him, or, more likely, his money, at Berkeley Square. He closed the folder and slid it aside to look at the one beneath.
“I took the liberty of putting the information for the Dower House on the top of the file as Lady NAME is—"
HERO’s head whipped up. “Lady NAME?” He smirked. “Did I inherit a wife along with these two decaying piles? How convenient.”
Beeky’s already red face reddened even more and he sat up as if somebody had just jammed a barge pole up his arse. “Lady Alys NAME is your predecessor’s widow, my lord.”
HERO gave the older man a smile he hoped was soothing. “There, there—no need to fly into a pucker, Beeky. I’m afraid you’ll need to get used to my sense of humor—if you wish to work for me. Cit though I might be, I gathered her ladyship was likely the last earl’s wife or mother. So,” he said, flicking through a few more pages. “She gets to live out the rest of her days on the estate, does she? And I’m to hose and house her?”
“Not at all, my lord. Lady NAME has her own jointure. It is merely the matter of the Dower House that requires your attention.”
HERO’s eyebrows descended. “Did you say requires?”
Beeky recoiled. “I’m sorry, my lord. Perhaps that was not the correct word.”
“Perhaps not,” HERO agreed, looking at the few documents pertaining to the ancient cottage. Yes, it was in even worse condition than the country and London houses.
“At my urging Lady NAME has come to London. She arrived yesterday, my lord, and is staying at the house on Berkeley Square.”
HERO looked up at that. “I see,” he said, sitting back in his oversized leather chair, his eyes narrowing. “She is staying in my house. And this is something she does every year?”
Beeky swallowed hard enough to crack a walnut. “Er, not in general, my lord. The last earl was in the habit of spending the Season here—certainly while the session was in—but her ladyship spent most of her time at Foxrun.”
“I see,” he said again, but softer this time. So, she’d come to town to beg—or demand, more likely—and had commenced her begging/demanding by commandeering his bloody house.
“I assured her ladyship you would not begrudge her the use of NAME House while she was in town.”
HERO frowned. If the house was his, then it was his—wasn’t it? He didn’t appreciate people making free with his possessions; he never had. No doubt that came from not actually having anything for the first twelve years of his life, but his attitude hadn’t changed now that he was swimming in lard. What was his, was his.
“If we are to get on, Mr. MR SOLICITOR,” HERO paused, allowing his changed tone to sink in—allowing the other man to understand there was the jolly, friendly earl, and there was this earl. “You’d better consult me in the future before making free with my belongings—the same goes for my new relative. Are we clear, sir?”
MR SOLICITOR nodded vigorously. “Of course, my lord. I did not mean to make free. Indeed, Lady NAME tried to demur, but I convinced her it would not be amiss. This once. So I am the one you should blame for taking such liberties.”
HERO let him swing on his gibbet for a long moment before grinning. “Of course it’s fine, Beeky. I’m quite looking forward to meeting my new relative—how are we related? Some sort of cousin-in-law, twice-removed, and so forth?”
“Er, not quite.”
HERO shrugged and gave a dismissive wave. “Well, I shall call her cousin to make life easier.”
“Of course, sir.”

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message 2: by DanielleGN (new)

Sep 28, 2020 12:08PM