Always Believe in Love (Emerson Book 4) Read online

  ALSO BY MAUREEN DRISCOLL

  THE EMERSON SERIES

  ALWAYS HAVE HOPE (EMERSON, BOOK THREE)

  ALWAYS TRUE TO HER (EMERSON, BOOK TWO)

  ALWAYS COME HOME (EMERSON, BOOK ONE)

  THE KELLINGTON SERIES

  NEVER TURN AWAY (KELLINGTON, BOOK SIX)

  NEVER DENY YOUR HEART (KELLINGTON, BOOK FIVE)

  NEVER RUN FROM LOVE (KELLINGTON, BOOK FOUR)

  NEVER WAGER AGAINST LOVE (KELLINGTON, BOOK THREE)

  NEVER MISS A CHANCE (KELLINGTON, BOOK TWO)

  NEVER A MISTRESS, NO LONGER A MAID (KELLINGTON, BOOK ONE)

  THE POLITICAL SATIRE

  DATING GEORGE CLOONEY

  ALWAYS BELIEVE IN LOVE

  By

  Maureen Driscoll

  To my amazing mom.

  Love, always and forever

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  PROLOGUE

  Layton Manor, Somerset, 1800

  Why couldn’t Simon have stayed away? Nicholas Chilcott knew he should not cry. He was seven years old and not a baby. He had been having ever so much fun with George and Francis home for the summer holiday. Of course, he never got to spend as much time with them as he wished since they were so much older. At seventeen and fifteen, George and Francis had seemed more interested in the serving girls down at the inn, than a little brother who couldn’t swim as well as they could and couldn’t gallop his pony. But he loved being with his brothers.

  It was wonderful not to be alone so much.

  Mother and Father were often in London. And even when father was in Somerset, he didn’t have much to do with his youngest son. But the housekeeper, Mrs. Berry, said that was the way of fathers. She said Nicholas should be a good boy and mind his nurse.

  So that is what he did. Nicholas did everything his nurse told him, though she was old and slept most of the day. He worked hard at his lessons, knowing that George and Francis did well in school. Nicholas wanted to do well, too, so he could show his brothers. And mayhap his father would spend more time with him.

  He’d spent the summer following George and Francis around the estate, looking forward to the days when they could swim or hike. And while he’d known they would leave him once again at the end of the summer, he was already counting the days until they would be back for Christmas.

  But then his cousin Simon had shown up, along with his Uncle Gerald. Father would be cross because he and his brother didn’t rub along well. And Simon….well, Simon was almost thirteen and mean. He never missed an opportunity to hit Nicholas and he excelled at doing so secretly so he wouldn’t get caught. It was only when George and Francis had seen the cuts and bruises that covered Nicholas’s back that they learned Simon had held him down and beaten him.

  Nicholas had tried so hard not to cry, but he knew he would once Simon started cutting him. The older boy had been delighted to hear his sobs. Fortunately, George and Francis had gotten in a few licks of their own on their cousin before telling Simon’s father what he’d done. Uncle Gerald had hit his son across the face. And while Nicholas had to admit to a little satisfaction upon witnessing it, he knew Simon would be back to torment him with a vengeance.

  Nicholas had been anticipating a beating. But what he ended up getting was far worse.

  “There you are, coward!” said Simon, once he found Nicholas in the garden that was within full view of the terrace where their fathers were drinking. “Why don’t you come into the woods with me, so I can show you what I think of your carrying tales to George and Francis.”

  “I didn’t carry tales! They saw my back when I went swimming.”

  “You’re such a baby, I’m surprised you didn’t drown. If you go swimming with me, you won’t come back.”

  Nicholas was determined not to show fear. Simon was always saying things like this to frighten him. “If you did that, George and Francis would kill you!”

  Simon snorted. “I’d like to see them try. Besides, your father would likely give me a medal for it.”

  “Father would hate you!”

  “You really don’t know, do you?”

  Simon started laughing then, and Nicholas knew that wasn’t a good sign.

  “You’re not really his son!”

  “Of course, I am.” Nicholas wasn’t sure what Simon was playing at. But he supposed it was better than being dragged to the lake and held under.

  “Your mother’s a filthy whore and you’re the Earl of Ridgeway’s bast…”

  Nicholas had always tried to fight Simon, but given the difference in their size and age, he had never been too successful at it. Especially since Simon specialized in the sneak attack. But when Simon had called Nicholas’s mother that bad name, he’d lunged for Simon and – for once – gotten in a solid blow. He’d even bloodied Simon’s nose. Simon sat there stunned. A moment later he burst into tears, which shocked Nicholas. Unfortunately, a moment after that, Simon hurled himself at Nicholas and began punching, kicking and biting him.

  George and Francis came running over, then pulled Simon off their brother.

  “That bloody bastard hit my nose!” said Simon.

  “After what you did to his back, you should be thankful that’s all he did,” said George.

  “What’s this all about?” asked Francis.

  “He called mother a name,” said Nicholas.

  George and Francis turned to Simon. “Is that true?” asked George.

  Now Simon was afraid. “All I did was tell him the truth. I told him he wasn’t really a Chilcott.”

  Nicholas was looking forward to his brothers’ response to that insult. As much as he loathed Simon’s visits, this one would have been worth it if his brothers attacked their cousin again.

  But they didn’t attack. Instead, they just looked uncomfortable.

  “See!” said Simon. “Your brothers know I’m right. Of course, they’re not actually your brothers, are they?”

  “Of course they are!” said Nicholas. “Tell him, George.”

  But, instead, George just put his hand on Nicholas’s shoulder. “Simon is an arse, but we are only your half-brothers.”

  “I don’t understand.” He loved George and Francis so much. They couldn’t be only half-brothers.

  George gave him a slight smile. “We have the same mother, but you have a different father.”

  “Because your mother’s a whore,” Simon said gleefully, before Francis planted him a facer.

  “How can we have different fathers?” asked Nicholas. But even as he asked the question, he knew it was true. There was a reason their father never spent much time with him. Because he wasn’t really his father. It made sense now.

  “Our mother had a…friendship with another man.”

  “The Earl of Ridgeway?” He didn’t know who the earl was, but now that Simon had me
ntioned it, Nicholas could recall hearing the name on the few times his mother and father had been together. And they’d been fighting.

  George sighed. “Yes, the Earl of Ridgeway. But you mustn’t speak of it because it would upset father.”

  Nicholas nodded. He didn’t want to speak of it. For if his father wasn’t really his father, what would become of him? Might Father – the Earl of Layton – cast him out one day if he was bad? He wanted to ask George and Francis, but they were being called away at that moment by their father, who no doubt wanted to show off his heirs to Uncle Gerald.

  George squeezed Nicholas’s shoulder once more before he and Francis ran off. There was a reason the earl hadn’t called him over, too. That’s because Nicholas wasn’t his son.

  Simon walked up to him, keeping a wary eye on George and Francis, who were out of earshot, but still near enough to give him a beating if they liked. “They’re only your half-brothers,” said Simon. “And a half-brother never really loves you.”

  Nicholas had to choke back a sob. But this time it wasn’t a beating that was making him cry. It was something much, much worse.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Layton Manor, Somerset, April 1823

  Nicholas Chilcott, the Earl of Layton, drew back the heavy brocade curtains of his bedchamber window to look out at his estate. It was just before dawn and he’d slept very little the night before. But instead of lying in bed and worrying, he had decided to continue worrying while gazing out at what he soon could lose.

  At thirty years of age, he’d been an earl for more than a decade. It wasn’t supposed to have happened, of course. He was the third-born son. But after the deaths of his older brothers George and Francis due to a fever, he’d been destined to become earl.

  The old earl had been enraged that Nick would one day succeed him. The anger had consumed him. Other fathers might have been devastated by the loss of two sons. But that hadn’t been the case for Layton. The old man had rarely shown love to either of the boys, and he’d certainly cared little enough for Nick. No, something else entirely had driven him to the brink of madness: George and Francis had been the old earl’s sons by blood. It was common knowledge that Nick was not.

  Thanks to his cousin Simon, Nick had learned the Earl of Ridgeway was his real father. He’d also heard the earl had a son his age named Colin, as well as a son, James, who was two years younger. When Nick started school at Eton, he’d taken it upon himself to work up a robust dislike of both of them, which lasted until the moment he saw them being beaten up by four older boys. So Nick had fought alongside the brothers, the three of them taking a drubbing. When the older boys had finally tired and moved on, Nick introduced himself. It was clear from Colin and James’s reactions that they knew who he was.

  Nick had only just transferred to the school – he suspected his father had kept him home for two years as a means of alienating him from potential friends. It was the first good look Nick had had of the brothers and he was astounded by what he saw. Both of them had black hair and dark eyes just like his own. He looked much more like those two boys than the fair-haired George and Francis.

  The three boys stared warily at each other and for a moment Nick wasn’t sure whether he would have to fight them until James announced he had molasses biscuits hidden in a sock. The three of them then initiated a lifelong brotherhood over bites of biscuit mixed with strands of wool.

  It turned out that the Earl of Ridgeway was just as bad of a father as the Earl of Layton. Both of the boys had suffered not just emotional neglect but also physical abuse. But their bond was all the stronger because of it. Nick learned he had two half-sisters, Winifred and Rosemary. Many years later, the Countess of Ridgeway would give birth to the youngest Emerson, Leticia, who was not the Earl of Ridgeway’s daughter. Despite there being no connection by blood, Nick considered her his sister. Contrary to what Simon had once told him, he found no difference in being a half-brother when it came to loving his family.

  After university, he’d seen less of the brothers. Colin had gone off to war and James to America. Both had been eager to put distance between themselves and the Earl of Ridgeway.

  Nick’s own father had passed and he’d had to settle into the role of the Earl of Layton, a title he hadn’t wanted. It should have been George’s. Or passed on to Francis. Becoming the earl had been one more reminder that he was without family.

  Other than the Emersons.

  He had just returned from the Ridgeway estate in nearby Wiltshire. Colin was now the earl and married to his heart’s mate, Ava. The death of Colin’s father almost four years earlier had left the family deep in debt, forcing him to sell everything that wasn’t entailed. He had been searching for an heiress wife when he’d fallen for a penniless governess. He now labored as a writer, hoping to keep the family afloat.

  James had recently married the former Irene Wallace, the daughter of a viscount who had disowned her because of James’s daughter, Anna. Six-year-old Anna was the result of a liaison between James and an Algonquin woman in America. The little girl was incredibly sweet and fast friends with Leticia, known as Letty.

  Win had been falsely accused of murdering her first husband, a bastard who’d beaten her. She was now married to Alexander Lewis, the former Crown barrister who’d been charged with prosecuting her.

  All of the Emersons were living in the dower house on the Ridgeway estate, since the manor had been rented out earlier in the year. Nick had spent two very happy days with them on their return from the trial in London. There was a great sense of relief that Win was free and they were once again all together. Nick hadn’t wanted to leave, but there had been business to attend to at his own estate. And while they never made him feel like a half-brother, he’d felt an inexplicable sadness at the dower house despite his joy. Three of his siblings were now happily married, a marked contrast to his own bachelor state. It was probably time for him to find a wife, as well, but his affairs were much too unsettled at the moment since he might not be the Earl of Layton much longer.

  His cousin Simon was trying to take the title from him.

  When Uncle Gerald had died, Simon had inherited a house and country estate, as well as a sum of money that, if invested well, would enable him to live reasonably well for the rest of his life.

  But it wasn’t enough for Simon. Nothing was enough for Simon.

  Since both of their fathers were now dead, Nick only ran into his cousin at the occasional ton event. The years had not been kind to his cousin, who was now six and thirty, with a thinning hairline and a growing middle. He had been in search of an heiress bride for some time now, despite his own adequate, if not extravagant, inheritance. He’d been unsuccessful so far and blamed his lack of a title. Nick rather thought the blame truly lay with Simon being an arse.

  It was perhaps because of Simon’s failure to find a rich wife that he had stepped up his efforts to have himself declared the true Earl of Layton.

  Along with his friend, Viscount Clayton, Simon had been telling everyone of the circumstances of Nick’s birth, though it had never been a particular secret. Since Nick’s parents had been married at the time of his birth, he was considered legitimate and, after the death of his brothers, the rightful heir. The old earl had been enraged to know Ridgeway’s son would inherit, but even he hadn’t done anything to declare the succession invalid.

  Yet Simon seemed obsessed with doing so.

  And Nick hoped Simon would never be earl. The estate’s dependents would be threatened by poor management and Simon had never shown any interest in helping them. Nick liked serving in Parliament. He voted with liberals like the Duke of Lynwood and the Marquess of Riverton, trying to enact reforms which would improve the lives of his countrymen.

  So there were incentives to keeping the title. Not the least of which was disappointing that smug bastard Simon.

  Nick closed the curtains as he prepared to dress. He was tempted to climb back in bed because the weather was still more winter than spring.
But he realized the last thing he wanted to do was climb into his large bed alone yet again.

  He had never wanted to marry a woman who only wanted him for his title. But now he was left wondering whether he could find a wife at all if he were no longer an earl.

  It was a lowering thought.

  * * *

  After breaking his fast, Nick set out for a ride over the estate. Early spring was always exciting as the farmers tried to predict the exact time to begin sowing crops. Too early and they could fall victim to a late frost. Too late and they might miss out on some of the bounty in autumn. He loved being among the farmers at times like this. There was good-natured teasing about some men’s inadequacies at guessing the weather that somehow turned into accusations of shortcomings in the bedchamber.

  These discussions were usually held over a few pints of ale. Nick envied the men’s friendship and wished he had something like it in his own life. It wasn’t that his tenants didn’t like him. But there was always a distance that came from being an earl. Not on his part, but on theirs.

  Today, he decided to stop at the home of Tom Carson, who’d had his third child two months earlier. The man was a good farmer and an excellent source of information. He was coming out onto his small porch as Nick arrived.

  “G’morning, milord.”

  “Good morning, Carson.” The small cottage had two small bedrooms upstairs and another off the kitchen on the ground floor. It was always neat and tidy and usually had the smell of bread wafting from it. Mr. and Mrs. Carson had grown up on the estate and been childhood sweethearts. They were also one of the happiest couples Nick had ever met – certainly happier than any he’d encountered in the ton, save for his Emerson relatives and his friends the Kellingtons. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look like a man with a baby who’s been keeping him up all night.”

  Carson beamed. “Aye. Yer powers of observation are keen as ever, milord. The wee mite has a healthy set of lungs – enough to keep everyone up, though his sisters tend to drop back to sleep quickly enough.”