Jillian Chantal

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt, plant. I am still working on my Regency story. I am planning to kick its rear and finish in time to start something new for NaNoWriMo. Wish me luck!

Check out the other tales here

Daniel never thought he would find himself here again. His stomach obviously did not either since it was protesting as loud as his brain.

He wanted nothing more than to dash out of the parlor and down the steps to the street. Of course, he knew he could not do that. He was a grown man and had responsibilities to this family of his, much as he wished he did not. He looked yearningly toward the plant in the corner near the long windows overlooking the street. He used to hide there when he was a child and try to avoid the punishments his mother would mete out when Nanny reported misconduct to her. He always seemed to bear the brunt of his mother’s rage even when both he and his brother violated some rule of the house. His sister never got called down to the parlor at all. She spent her whole life being perfect.

Daniel snorted. Hardly. But Mother never knew—or if she did, she never punished the girl.

“Are you all right, Your Lordship?” The solicitor, Timmons asked.

His new status was going to take some getting used to. Captain was a term of respect from his crew, but Earl was altogether different. “Yes. I am fine. Just some memories flooding in. It has been an age since I was in this room.”

“So I understand. I know you went to war, but when you returned to England, you disappeared.” Timmons shook his head. “Never understood it, but I suppose you had your reasons.”

Not that he thought it was any of the man’s business, but Daniel responded. “A second son is expected to make his own way in the world. When I had to resign my Army commission due to my injuries, I bought a ship and became a trader. I heard of the birth of two sons to my brother and, as I was now certain not to be needed, I built a life at sea.”

“And tragedy struck the two infants and now your brother.”

The door opened and Daniel’s mother strode in. “And chances are, Timmons, this so-called son of mine would never have entered this parlor again if he had not been declared the earl as his brother’s heir.”

“Hello, Mother. I see you are just as charming as you ever were.” His stomach protested again. Being near this woman was painful. Always had been. He had never been good enough and now it was as if he were a twelve year old boy again. Standing in front of her, fearful of the rod.