Read When Good Earls Go Bad: A Victorian Valentine's Day Novella for Free Online Page B

She’d try to be wise in whom she admired, would try to remember, since she was incapable of lying herself, that others would lie in pursuit of their goals.
    And she had to admit that even though she had fallen, as she had so thoroughly after Charles, at least it had brought her the agency and her friends.
    Besides which, all the books she read seemed to indicate that having some sort of horrible thing happen to someone then resulted in a wonderful thing happening. She was hoping it wasn’t just fiction.
    “You can feel as I do, my lord,” she said softly. He shook his head “no” almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth.
    “You have to open your heart to the possibilities.” She began to fold the cravat. “Perhaps this lady you will meet tonight, perhaps she is the one you are destined to love.”
    “I don’t believe in destiny,” he said, his voice scornful. “Destiny is what people blame when their own foolishness caused a mishap in their lives. Destiny, fate, what God intended; it’s all an excuse for people who aren’t strong enough to control their own lives.”
    Her heart hurt at how harsh and bitter he sounded. “Some people do that, yes. But I didn’t meant destiny as though you can’t do anything to control it yourself. I mean it as something you have to be open to. Not something you control, or don’t control. Just . . . your future. Whatever it might be, you have to be open to making choices.”
    “Risk-taking is for fools who can’t predict the future, Miss Tyne.” He lifted his gaze to regard her face, his expression looking almost chagrined. “Although I don’t suppose you are a fool, I apologize if it seems as though I called you one.”
    Annabelle shook her head ruefully. “You are not the first person to have called me a fool, even if you didn’t mean it, and you will not be the last. I learned a long time ago that what is right for me is not right for others. I do so hope that happiness is right for you, my lord.”
    L ong after he’d changed his clothing and put on his freshly ironed cravat, long after he’d exchanged pleasantries with the very pleasant young lady his uncle had introduced him to, even after he’d made his final good-byes and was making his way back home in a creaky carriage, her words echoed in his head: “I do so hope that happiness is right for you.”
    He leaned back against the carriage seat and gazed out the window. It was night, but there were a few lamps lit against the bleak darkness, and here and there Matthew saw movement in the shadows. Did those people have happiness in their future? What made him so deserving?
    The only thing that seemed to matter was his ability to decide things for other people. And that he had been born to his particular father in a particular region, and thus had inherited particular holdings.
    Could that bring him happiness? Suddenly, the thought of what happiness could be rushed in on him so quickly he started. A woman, a woman with a quick laugh, a ready wit, and an ability to laugh at herself and at him, waiting for him when he returned home. A woman who would, perhaps, upset his orderly way of life, but not for the worst, as he’d always imagined. Maybe for the better, even though he’d never thought of that possibility before.
    The carriage pulled up in front of the house and he descended, pressing a few coins into the hackney driver’s hand. By now he was accustomed to the man’s making a comment about his country of origin, and he waved his hand in dismissal as he ascended the stairs.
    Long after he had washed and changed, long after he’d found his now-clean bedroom and crawled into bed, long after he’d watched the clock move from twelve o’clock to one o’clock to two o’clock, he heard her voice.
    “I do so hope that happiness is right for you.”

 
    A Belle’s Guide to Household Management
    We wish to encourage everyone, not just housekeepers, to refrain from biting the dust. Either you will