The Midnight Heiress (Once Upon a Regency Book 2)

  THE MIDNIGHT HEIRESS

  ASHTYN NEWBOLD

  Copyright © 2019 by Ashtyn Newbold

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

  Front cover design by Amanda Conley

  Editing by Tori MacArthur

  Ashtyn Newbold

  www.ashtynnewbold.com

  Created with Vellum

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Other books in the series

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  Also by Ashtyn Newbold

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  T urning his back on Thornwall was the most difficult thing Aiden Notley had ever done. And he had endured many difficult things. As he trailed behind his stepfather and two stepbrothers, he set his jaw and tightened his grip on his trunk, willing himself to keep his gaze fixed on the carriage ahead. To look back at his childhood home now would only make it harder to leave behind. It was the memories of his parents—the smiles, the laughter, the kindness, and the loving words—that made his departure so difficult.

  Unlike the house, those memories were things life could never take from him, no matter how greedy it became.

  “Aiden! Step to it, boy.” His stepfather, the Marquess of Aveley, stood impatiently at the door of his carriage. His own trunk lay at his feet, waiting for the ever-willing hands of Aiden to strap it onto the back of the conveyance. Lord Aveley’s two sons, who had already entered the carriage, leaned against their respective cushions with smirks on both their faces.

  Since Lord Aveley had decided to sell Thornwall six months before, he had dismissed the entire household staff, some of which were Aiden’s dearest friends. Aiden should have known he would be left to fill the role of every servant. He was butler, housekeeper, footman, cook, and valet. A man-of-all-work. To Lord Aveley, who received very few visitors that might scorn the practice, there was nothing amiss with such a set-up.

  Aiden would have never complied if not for his lack of university education. He could not afford an education, nor was he given a scholarship. He could not enter a respectable profession in medicine, military, or the clergy without a formal education. So a tradesman he would become. Until then, he needed a place to live, and in exchange for his stepfather’s generosity, he was required to work as an omnipresent servant in his home. Without wages.

  Aiden stooped over at the waist and hoisted his stepfather’s traveling trunk onto the back of the carriage, strapping it up tightly. His stepbrothers, Miles, the Earl of Orsett, and Lord Evan Browning, had also deposited their trunks on the ground behind the back wheels of the carriage, assuming Aiden would strap them up.

  After securing his stepfather’s trunk, he hoisted up Evan’s, grunting with the effort. The weight felt as if he had packed his trunk with solid gold. But Aiden knew it could not be true. Most of Lord Aveley’s motivation to sell Thornwall and dismiss his staff was to alleviate his financial burden. His sons had little to expect by way of fortune upon his death.

  Little to nothing.

  Soon after Aiden’s mother died, Lord Aveley had abandoned all reason. He had foolishly given his daughter an immense dowry to marry her off to a viscount, further depleting his funds. He had then proceeded to gamble away several thousand pounds. His eldest son, Miles, would one day be the Marquess of Aveley, but with little wealth and property behind the name. And Evan, indolent as he was, preferred the thought of marrying into wealth of his own rather than seek a profession.

  Knowing his own fate as a tradesman, Aiden had hope of one day becoming a cordwainer through apprenticeship, constructing the sort of shoes his mother loved. As a young boy, his mother and father had often danced in the drawing room, his mother often declaring that a lady’s shoes determined her dancing ability. The more becoming, flexible, and lovely the shoe, the more confident the lady. And the more confident the lady, the more regal. The more regal, the more graceful.

  Aiden had never suspected shoes to mean so much, but if they were valued by his mother, then they must be important. If there were ever a way to honor her, it would be to construct shoes that would produce smiles like the ones she donned while trying on a new pair.

  “Gads, I’ve seen tortoises that move faster than Aiden Notley.” The snide voice of Miles came muffled through the carriage door. “Father, please do remind me why we haven’t yet sent the simpleton packing.”

  A wave of snickering came from Evan. Aiden had always thought Evan possessed a strangely high-pitched voice and laugh for a man. Even for a woman. “I do like to see him serve us,” Evan said. “Think of how dull life would be if we couldn’t watch him struggle with the weight of our trunks.”

  Aiden bit the inside of his cheek, thrusting Miles’s trunk atop the carriage with great force, setting the entire vehicle swaying. An angry grunt sounded from within, a clear sign of annoyance. It came, no doubt, from his stepfather. Aiden knew the sound well.

  Tying the last of the straps, Aiden pulled the carriage door open, meeting the stern gaze of his stepfather, who lounged against his seat. His dark eyes surveyed Aiden with unexplained malice. “What do you suppose you are doing? You’ll be riding on the back, of course.”

  Aiden didn’t protest. He would rather ride in the open air with the sun upon his face than endure several hours of spiteful remarks and irritating laughter from his stepbrothers. Without a word, he closed the carriage door, walking around the back to find a place among the various traveling trunks and bags. As he began to hoist himself up, he heard the brisk command of Lord Aveley to the coachman, setting the team of horses into abrupt motion.

  Aiden jerked back with the sudden movement, losing his grip on the back of the carriage. He fell hard to the gravel, the impact stealing his breath for several seconds. Pain shot through his arms and legs where tiny rocks had scraped him. He rolled over, rubbing bits of gravel from his skin, blowing dust from his face. The carriage came to a stop several feet ahead, a mixture of deep and high-pitched laughter floating up through the air like the dust all around him.

  He struggled to his feet before pressing the hem of his torn shirt against a cut on his wrist, the white fabric quickly turning red with his blood. The carriage window opened, revealing the mirthful expression of Evan. His dark hair and eyes contrasted sharply with his extremely white skin, the white of his teeth blending almost seamlessly with his complexion. “Oh, stepbrother, did you take a fall? Father offers his sincere apology.”

  The deep chuckling from within belied his statement.

  Aiden took a deep breath, setting his jaw and wiping the dust from his forehead as he approached the back of the carriage. In one swift motion, he lifted himself onto the seat, attaining a firm grip before his stepfather could try to derail him again.

  “Are you secure on the carriage? We should hate to see you fall again.”

  Aiden ignored the snide comments as he always did, trying also to ignore the pain that inched over his palms and wrist. He heard the click of the window as it closed, leaving him to the much more pleas
ant sounds of nature. The flick of the reins met his ears as the carriage came to a much more gradual start, the large wheels crackling against the gravel beneath him.

  Melancholy reverberated in his chest as he watched Thornwall grow smaller in the distance. He memorized the landscape of the front property, the bushes and trees and neat grass he had taken great care to upkeep over the last six months. He envisioned the many friends his mother and father had invited for dinner parties and soirees, how they had smiled as they ascended the steps, sharing Aiden’s love for Mr. and Mrs. Notley and for Thornwall.

  The home had been his mother’s, a property she had purchased with the large inheritance that had come unexpectedly from her grandmother. A year after Aiden’s father’s death, the property had become a burden for her to manage alone. Lord Aveley had come with the appearance of grace and kindness, offering his hand in marriage. Stunned and grateful, she had accepted. In their marriage settlement, Thornwall and all its properties had been passed to Lord Aveley. Not until her unexpected fever and death two short years later did the marquess reveal his true character. It had broken Aiden’s heart to see his parents’ possessions sold to pay Lord Aveley’s debts. Aiden had managed to hide a pair of slippers that belonged to his mother and a pocket watch of his father’s before the auction had claimed the rest.

  He exhaled his sorrow, breathing in the bright summer air. There was no sense in longing for the past. It was gone, buried with his mother and father and the joy they had shared. But it was not that Aiden was without joy, not at all. Without the prominent joy of a loving family, and a warm, comfortable home, he had learned to find joy in the smaller things of life. He appreciated and noticed things he never had before. Every kind word he ever received now felt like a precious gift. Every smile that did not contain spite or mockery, he clung to. Each sunset gave him hope for tomorrow, and each sunrise gave him strength to continue on. He counted the stars at night, taking note of their majesty, knowing his parents now lived among them.

  He tipped his head against the back of the carriage, vibrations coursing through his skull. The heat of the sun beat down on his face as he closed his eyes. He would be riding on the back of the carriage for two days on the long journey to Lord Aveley’s last remaining property, a smaller home called Colborne Hall, located in Gravesend, an area of England containing hills, marshes, lush woods, and distant mountains. His stepfather had described the place in few details, as he had only visited his property there once.

  Aiden groaned at the thought of all the refurbishments that would need to take place upon their arrival, and that the responsibility would fall solely to him. He could scarcely imagine the quantities of dust and grime that would likely coat the furnishings, and the ghastly status of the landscape. But his mother had always taught him to look for the good in every situation.

  At least he would have much to keep him busy upon their arrival at Colborne Hall.

  The following two days were filled with sweat and dust and aching muscles. Lord Aveley lacked the funds and the compassion to purchase a room at the inn for Aiden, leaving him to sleep within the carriage. By the time they reached Gravesend the next afternoon, Aiden’s face was coated in dirt and sweat, his back throbbed with pain, and his face was severely sunburnt.

  At least the cuts on his hands and arms had begun to heal.

  Gravesend was very different than he had imagined it would be. Located on higher ground, the town had several hills of vibrant green. As the carriage passed through the center of the town, Aiden surveyed the rustic shops, taking note of a cordwainer establishment among them. He caught a quick glimpse of a pair of intricate slippers in the window. They reminded him of his mother’s favorite pair. He memorized the location of the shop. He would come back at his first opportunity to inquire about the possibility of an apprenticeship.

  As the carriage carried him past the town center, a cloud passed over the sun, relieving Aiden of the relentless summer heat for a brief moment. From what he had seen thus far, the houses of Gravesend appeared rather small, built closely to one another, the rooftops sloping down and nearly touching on both sides. In the distance, a massive estate loomed on a hill, the gray stone appearing darker under the clouded sky. Could it be Colborne Hall? He couldn’t imagine keeping up with such expansive property on his own

  He squinted, noticing the neat grounds. Relief poured through him. It could not be the deserted estate they were to inhabit. But even if Colborne Hall were half the size, it would be extremely difficult to manage on his own. If his stepfather hoped to entertain guests at their new property, he would have to employ more staff. There was no way Aiden could do it all, and it would hinder Lord Aveley’s reputation if it was discovered he only had one servant—an unpaid servant who was also his stepson.

  The carriage crossed the road in front of the looming estate, giving Aiden a closer view of the structure. The road crossed behind the estate, passing through the nearby woods. Less than a mile away, a slightly smaller house appeared. With golden brown stone, multiple dirt streaked windows, and overgrown vegetation, Aiden determined that this had to be Colborne Hall.

  As he suspected, the carriage pulled up to the drive, coming to an abrupt halt. Aiden jumped down from his seat, stretching his legs and wiping the perspiration from his brow. He studied the tangled, overgrown grass and the weeds that sprouted among it. Bushes stretched high near the front doors with vines climbing over the stone. There was much work to be done outside.

  Lord Aveley descended from the carriage, filling his lungs with the crisp air of Gravesend. “One would expect a marquess to live in greater grandeur than this.” He grimaced, his narrowed eyes appraising the property. He turned to Aiden. “I expect this estate to be suitable for guests within a fortnight.” His eyes widened momentarily as he took in Aiden’s disheveled appearance. “And you will not be in attendance if any guests come to call.”

  A fortnight? It would take much longer than that to preen the front property into something presentable, and Aiden hadn’t even seen the condition of the back property and the interior of the house. He cleared his throat. “I do not think it possible to make this property presentable in such a short time. Do you plan to hire servants?”

  Lord Aveley squared his shoulders. “I will solicit for servants around town, but until then, you will do nothing else until this house is fit for a marquess and his esteemed guests.” Lord Aveley fixed Aiden with a scowl. “And you are not to introduce yourself as any relation of mine. We are in a new part of the country. If you are questioned, do not claim any association with myself, or with Miles and Evan. Do you understand? If your residence is questioned, then you are to declare yourself a servant in this home, nothing more.”

  Aiden nodded, more than glad to accept such terms. He would rather keep a familial distance between himself and his stepfather and stepbrothers. Aiden’s only true family was dead.

  “The rest of our possessions should be arriving within the week,” Lord Aveley said. “You are to bring them into the house and arrange them as they were in Thornwall.”

  Aiden nodded again, following behind his stepfather and stepbrothers as they moved toward the house. The interior was just as Aiden had suspected: in complete disarray. The wallpaper had peeled in many places, with water fading the patterns and giving the home a musky scent. The marble floors were coated with dust, as were all the furnishings of the entry hall. Lord Aveley pulled on a sheet that covered a portrait, grimacing at the man depicted in the painting.

  “My grandfather,” Lord Aveley said with disgust. “You must replace this with my portrait as soon as it arrives. You may flank it with portraits of Miles and Evan, and one of Arabella as well.”

  “As you wish.” Aiden turned toward the nearest door, opening it to reveal the drawing room. The furniture had been draped with sheets, lessening the dust that would otherwise have gathered in the creases of the cushions. He would need to acquaint himself with the kitchen first, and make it his first priority. Lord Aveley
would want a nice meal this evening, and Aiden would be responsible for preparing it.

  Miles and Evan climbed the wide staircase, disappearing down the second floor hall. Dismayed grumbles carried down to the first floor, and Evan returned to the top of the staircase. “Aiden! I will need my room prepared immediately. I wish to rest but the bed is filthy.” He rubbed his fingers together, staring at the dirt between them with disgust. “I will need the cobwebs cleared from the doorway as well.”

  For a moment Aiden entertained the idea of capturing a few spiders and planting them among Evan’s blankets.

  Be kind. His mother’s cajoling statement entered his thoughts. She had used it on him often as a boy, affirming the importance of kindness in all circumstances. The kind person is the happiest person, she had often said. The happiest person is the one that gives more than he takes, loves more than he hates, and builds more than he breaks. Aiden had learned through living with his stepfamily that giving, loving, and building those that take, hate, and break was more difficult than anything he had ever done. His mother would claim that those sort of people were most in need of kindness.

  And so Aiden would prepare Evan’s room. He would do so without complaint. He would prepare dinner and tame the grounds and dust the furnishings. He would do it for his mother, if only to assure him that she smiled down upon his efforts.

  Aiden often dreamed of the day he would escape Lord Aveley’s influence. Life in Gravesend could be his opportunity. He thought of the cordwainer’s shop he had seen on their drive. When he went to the market to purchase the needed food for dinner, he would inquire about an apprenticeship.

  CHAPTER 2

  L ady Katherine Golding, the eldest and only child of the Duke of Chatham, rested her head in her hands, enjoying the warmth of the sun on the back of her neck. She lifted her gaze to the gardens before her. Leaves rustled in the light summer breeze, and she listened to the soft sounds contentedly. The sounds intensified into something loud and crunching.