Deleted scene: Three or more months after Honoria’s arrival at Caldwell Manor (Between Chapters 4 and 5).
“…And I bought extra watercolor paint so that Rosy can paint alongside her sister. They do not spoil, and it is better to have more on hand than to run out when the weather turns and the roads become impassable,” Honoria concluded her weekly household report, standing beside Mrs. Post before the earl’s desk.
Caldwell squinted at the financial ledger before him, absently twirling a pencil between his fingers.
Honoria had arranged her notes with her usual meticulous care, detailing expenditures, staff concerns, and the children’s progress.
“Thank you. That will be all,” the earl said, still focused on the ledger before him.
“My lord?” Mrs. Post raised her eyes meaningfully. The earl looked up, briefly bewildered, and some non-verbal communication passed between the two.
Honoria hesitated. Should she leave?
“Ah—yes, Miss Hart,” the earl finally said, setting his pencil down.
“Yes?” Honoria turned back, puzzled, as Mrs. Post swiftly exited the room. What is going on?
“I—um—wanted to thank you for looking after the children so well,” Caldwell said, awkwardly avoiding her gaze. “I am not very good with children, so I appreciate your help.”
Honoria frowned. He was the master of the house. He didn’t need to thank her at all. Mrs. Post must have nudged him to do it. To what purpose? She’d have to ask later.
“I wouldn’t say you’re bad with children,” she found herself saying. “Rosy adores you.”
The earl looked up at her, surprise evident in his eyes, but quickly looked away. He shuffled papers on his desk, a gesture Honoria had come to recognize as one of his nervous habits.
“If it seems she’s taken to me, it’s only because she enjoys being read to,” he said dismissively. “She finds my voice soothing, for some reason.”
Honoria pressed her lips together to hide her smile. Rosy wasn’t the only one who found the earl’s voice soothing. That low, smooth baritone was like a balm to the ears. Ever since the night he had calmed Rosy during a storm, she had insisted he read her a bedtime story—and surprisingly, he had never refused.
“And since I am larger than her or her siblings, she thinks I am able to save her from thunderstorms and her nightmares,” the earl continued. “With the older two, I’m afraid that strategy will not suffice.”
Honoria shifted her weight, considering his words. The earl often seemed very closed off, guarded. To her, he was an enigma. It felt nice to realize he had fears and concerns. He cared for the children in his care.
“The littles ones are easier to get along with,” she agreed. “One has to simply be there. With the older ones one has to have actual conversations to create a bond.”
He frowned, genuinely perplexed. “Conversations? I’m afraid I’m not particularly skilled at that. I never know what topics might interest children.”
“The same ones that interest adults, perhaps?” Honoria offered lightly.
The earl’s brow furrowed deeper. “With adults, I mostly speak of business, work, or politics. Or the mundane affairs of the estate.” He gestured toward the financial ledger. “Hardly suitable for children.”
“What about your friends?” Honoria asked. A pause. “What do you talk about with them?”
The question hung in the air between them, the silence stretching, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the mantel. Honoria’s discomfort grew steadily with each passing second. Now that she thought of it, she hadn’t seen any visitors since her arrival. Did he even have friends? Had she inadvertently touched a sore spot?
But she couldn’t help the thought that it wouldn’t be the worst thing if he didn’t. Most of the men she’d known in her former life were hardly paragons of virtue. Their conversations had revolved around hunting, gambling, drunken boasts, and lewd stories. In contrast, Caldwell didn’t seem the type to revel in such company.
She opened her mouth to apologize and steer the conversation elsewhere, when at last he answered.
“Business, I suppose. Investments. Plans.”
Of course. He was an industrialist and an amateur scientist—his mind forever preoccupied with innovation and progress. She cleared her throat, searching for a way to make her point without overstepping. “Children have plans,” she said simply.
He looked up, surprised, as if the notion had never occurred to him. After a thoughtful pause, he nodded slowly, the lines on his brow easing. “Yes, you’re right.”
Taking that as a sign of dismissal, Honoria dipped into a curtsy and turned to go, but Caldwell’s voice stopped her again.
“You were right about the plants, too.”
Honoria turned to him, confusion wrinkling her brow. “Pardon?”
“The plants in the house—they liven up the place. I never thought to bring them in from the glasshouse or the garden.”
Honoria’s lips curved into a smile. “I’m glad you like them. You have a wonderful collection.”
He nodded. “Yes, I try to collect as many species as I possibly can.”
“Tulips are my favorites,” Honoria blurted out. “Such a pity they only bloom for a short time in spring.”
The earl frowned, his gaze fixed on some spot on her dress, clearly lost in thought again. Well, that conversation was over. It had been the longest one they’d ever had, too, so she couldn’t complain. Bobbing a quick curtsy, Honoria slipped out of the study, leaving Caldwell to his thoughts.
“You didn’t have to push him to thank me,” Honoria murmured to Mrs. Post the moment she closed the door behind her.
Mrs. Post’s weathered face crinkled into a smile. “I didn’t.” At Honoria’s arched brow, she chuckled. “Well, perhaps I did. But the gratitude is his own. He’s told me as much. He simply isn’t good at expressing such things. Needs a nudge now and again. Come.” She patted Honoria’s arm and they made their way down the corridor. “You need to learn his ways, so you can help him communicate with others once I retire.”
Honoria grimaced inwardly. It was unlikely she would be a housekeeper here for that long. But she wasn’t ready for that conversation with Mrs. Post yet. She opted for a joke instead. “Oh, please. I do not see you retiring any time soon. Whatever would you do with all the free time?”
Mrs. Post chuckled. “Well, we’ve an arrangement with the earl. When Mr. Post and I decide to step back, he’s promised us the gamekeeper’s cottage down at his little estate near Plymouth. So, I suppose I shall spend my days watching the waves.”
Honoria’s smile deepened, picturing the old couple by the sea. It warmed her to think the earl would look after them even in retirement. It didn’t surprise her anymore. Beneath that stoic, distant exterior lay a deeply kind heart.
“You’ll be bored and back here in no time, I wager.”
The housekeeper laughed. “You’re right. My hands will grow restless soon enough. You’re very observant. Still, I can rest easy knowing the earl is in good hands. You’re a wonderful housekeeper.” She hesitated, then added softly, “Though I daresay the mistress of the house might better suit your station.”
Honoria’s heart lurched. “Pardon me?”
“Come now,” Mrs. Post said kindly. “You’re not the only observant one in this house. I know noble blood when I see it. We servants notice these things.”
“Oh.” Honoria wrinkled her nose. She had hoped it wouldn’t be so obvious. Her carefully constructed identity suddenly felt as delicate as spun glass. “I’m not—I haven’t…”
“Don’t fret,” the housekeeper reassured her with a warm pat on the arm. “I won’t say a word. And you do mask it well. Clearly, you’ve spent years among working folk. Most people won’t notice. But it’s in the way you carry yourself. There are certain things one never unlearns.” Her tone softened. “Did your family get impoverished then?”
Honoria looked down at the polished floorboards. She didn’t want to lie to the kind housekeeper, but she couldn’t tell her the truth either.
“That’s all right,” Mrs. Post murmured. “You don’t need to say. Just know, if you had to work anywhere, there are far worse places than this.”
Warmth flooded through Honoria. “Yes, I like it here. Everyone is very kind and welcoming.”
“It’s the earl,” Mrs. Post said with obvious affection. “He’s a bit odd and spends a lot of time on his own, but he treats his servants with respect, takes care of his tenants, and doesn’t tolerate nonsense. He is a good man.” She paused, then added with a wry smile, “Handsome, too.”
A blush crept up Honoria’s neck and settled in her cheeks. “I noticed that, too,” she admitted, then immediately wished she could take the words back.
Mrs. Post’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Don’t worry. Every maid has swooned over the earl at one point or another.”
Honoria was ready for the earth to swallow her on the spot. The keen housekeeper saw too much. She hastily changed the subject. “I am glad I am able to help the children. I feel a sense of accomplishment that not every job guarantees.”
“And they thrive under your watch. The progress you’ve made in mere months is remarkable. You are a miracle worker.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Honoria said with a nervous chuckle. “I’m afraid I’m still bumbling my way through it. A miracle worker would’ve been able to get Robbie to bathe regularly.”
“Oh, it’s a boy thing,” Mrs. Post let out a laugh. “I remember Lord Caldwell had the same issue.”
“He did?” Honoria wrinkled her nose. She had trouble imagining the gruff earl as a child at all, much less a disobedient and a squamish one. She somehow imagined him sprouting to his full over six-foot height right after birth.
“Oh yes. He’s had a number of issues. He still refuses to shave on a regular basis, which is a disgrace! He has such a lovely face to hide under a beard.”
I rather like it. Honoria did not dare voice it out loud, but she found his dark, coarse beard have his neat, aristocratic features a rugged edge. She also liked that he never wore a cravat, preferring less formal clothing even at dinner. Now that she thought about it, although he was always clean and fresh smelling, she could see how as a child he would avoid bathing. He was always distracted with his own pursuits and wouldn’t have eaten if he was not reminded. “How did he get into the habit of bathing then?”
Mrs. Post smiled. “Well, he always loved running water—was fascinated by it, in fact. His father noticed that, and he’d take him to the stream instead of heating up a bath. As he grew older, he started swimming in the lake every other day, and the habit stuck. I think he still prefers the lake to bathwater. Obviously, he takes baths now, especially when he’s in the city, but he still prefers natural waters.”
That she knew. Honoria’s cheeks burned at the memory of seeing Caldwell at the stream—his tall figure cutting through the water, droplets clinging to his naked body. Oh yes, he clearly spent a great deal of time swimming, as evidenced by his wide, muscular shoulders. Her mouth watered at the thought, and she had to swallow and reroute her thoughts before she started drooling. What were they talking about? The lake, bathing… Ah—Robbie!
“Perhaps the earl could take Robbie with him to the lake,” Honoria said after clearing her throat. “Not only to help with the hygiene, but also it could help nurture a bond between the earl and Robbie.”
Mrs. Post nodded approvingly. “That’s quite clever, Miss Hartwell. I told you, you complement the earl perfectly.”
Honoria didn’t reply, her thoughts drifting once more to the earl—swimming alone in the lake, his tall figure slicing through the water, droplets clinging to his—
Scroll down for one more scene
Thank you for reading the deleted scenes from “Of Lies and Earls” I hope you enjoyed it!
Be sure to pre-order book 3, A Marquess of No Importance.
Thank you!
Deleted scenes: Deleted dialog between gentlemen at the club. (Chapter 7)
“Speaking of enjoying pettiness—” Drake began, then turned toward St. Clare, who leaned curiously close to his face. “What? Why are you leaning into me as if seeking a kiss?”
St. Clare let out a laugh. “Unlike you, my friend, I am taken. No, I was trying to figure out if that’s a black eye you’re hiding under all that powder.”
All attention shifted to Lucien’s left eye. He touched a finger lightly to the skin and hissed. “Ah, that little thing.”
“Is that Thornton’s work?” Jacob asked.
Drake raised a brow. “How did you know?”
“He called on me this morning. Asked me to extend an invitation to my ball to a colleague of his. Apparently a ball is the perfect place to discuss business. Who would have thought?”
“Thornton? Attending a ball?”
Jacob shrugged. “That’s what he said.”
Drake shook his head. “What’s with you hermits all emerging among the ton at once? First you, now Thornton. Oh, and have I told you Rivendale has arrived in town?”
“Thornton is in London most of the year,” Jacob noted. “He might not attend society events, but he’s hardly a hermit. I came because my aunt insists I must rejoin society for Elise’s sake. She’ll be introduced next year, and my aunt will be gone by then. As for Rivendale—no idea.”
“Always so literal,” Drake said, waving his cigar. “It was a rhetorical question.”
“Yet among the three of you, Rivendale is the only one with a legitimate reason to stay hidden. He can’t exactly traipse around the countryside on a whim,” Sutton said.
“I have a very good reason to be a hermit,” Jacob protested.
“Not liking people is not a good reason.”
“Why not?” Caldwell let out a puff of smoke. “It’s been working for me so far.”
“I’m starting to think he has a point,” Sutton said. “So long as I don’t have to interact with you lot too often.”
“Oh, but we are fun,” Drake grinned.
***
“This will be our first outing since returning from Ireland,” the Mad Duke added. “My dear duchess is looking forward to her very first masquerade ball.”
“The very first? You don’t say.” Drake teased. “Who would’ve thought the Mad Duke would’ve married such innocence.”
The duke’s eyes flashed dark. “Take care how you talk about my wife, Luke.”
“What’s with the hostility, Tyrone?” Drake let out a scoff. “I meant it as a compliment.”
“Just keep my wife’s name from your lips, and I shall keep my fist off your teeth,” the duke said dryly, prompting a burst of laughter from St. Clare.
“Who would’ve expected such protectiveness from the Mad Duke,” St. Clare teased with a smile.
“And just a little over a year after vowing never to marry,” Drake said, then raised his hands in surrender. “No need to punch me in the teeth, this joke was at your expense, not your wife’s.”
Tyrone waved a dismissive hand, although a small smile tugged at his lips.
Thank you for reading the deleted scenes from “Of Lies and Earls” I hope you enjoyed it!
Be sure to pre-order book 3, A Marquess of No Importance.
Thank you!
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