Earl of Baxter

by Tammy Andresen

  But fortunately for her, Penny had found her and swept her away, taking Clarissa to her dilapidated house in the East End of London. It hadn’t been much, but it had been a home. At last, she’d been treated with love and respect. And Clarissa was forever grateful.

  If Penny, barely eighteen at the time, hadn’t taken Clarissa under her wing, there was no telling what might have happened to her. Clarissa bit her lower lip. Best not to think about bad things anymore.

  She looked up at her friend as Penny held the Earl of Goldthwaite’s hands in her own. Penny had taught her so much about the sort of person she wanted to be.

  Penny cared for others. Always.

  That’s what Clarissa would do with her life too.

  Clarissa was good at it. That helped. She never minded kissing away a hurt on a child’s knee or holding a little one after they woke from a bad dream. In fact, she’d considered becoming a nurse. She’d cared for soldiers who’d been wounded at the church and she’d loved making them comfortable when they had so little relief from their injuries.

  Clarissa didn’t want a life filled with pursuit of personal pleasure. In fact, in her mind, they led to a person’s ruin. Just like her father. She still worried that her father’s secrets might taint her life. Would people donate to her cause if they discovered what her father had done? Or worse, what she had?

  No. It was better to stay far away from material goods. She’d keep herself distanced from the sin in this world and focus on helping people. She thought back to one soldier in particular. A captain who’d been on death’s door. Even as ill as he’d been, Clarissa could tell he was handsome.

  And he’d tried to help her when Father Byron had been in one of his moods. She wondered if that man had recovered after all. And she still dreamed of the silky feel of his hair under her hand.

  Which led her to the third very distracting thing currently in the church.

  Two nights ago, she’d met a man at the Earl of Goldthwaite’s home. The Earl of Baxter. Something in his eyes had reminded her of the soldier she’d cared for all those years ago.

  It wasn’t him, of course. Earls did not get sent to the basements of churches to recover. But just when she’d thought she’d ceased thinking about her soldier, something always brought his memory back.

  When she was younger, she’d dreamed of marrying him. He’d find her again, sweep her off her feet, tell her he’d always loved her, and carry her away to her destiny. But that sort of dream was for little girls. She was a woman now and she had other children who depended on her. And her own demons to battle.

  As if to remind her of that fact, Natty pulled on her hand. She was the youngest orphan in Penny’s care and Clarissa shifted the girl onto her lap, brushing a kiss on the top of Natty’s head. These little girls were the reason she’d never marry. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. These girls would live with Penny and Logan. But there were others out there. Who lived in places worse than the church she’d been sent to.

  She’d run one of Penny’s orphanages and take care of children in need. And then she’d be far away from the temptations of this world.

  But a gaze had been on her the entire ceremony and the intensity made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

  Turning, she met the dark gaze of the Earl of Baxter. He sat two rows back, directly behind her seat.

  He was a guest at the wedding and his eyes had been burning holes in her back since she’d arrived.

  Dark and stormy, his expression caught and held hers, almost hypnotic in his stare.

  She drew in a gasp, trying to understand his intensity even as that feeling overwhelmed her again. She knew those eyes. She was sure of it.

  She shook her head. That was impossible.

  She likely just imagined the resemblance. She’d only seen her captain’s eyes open the one time, a lifetime ago. How could she even remember them? Would he remember her if he were the man she’s nursed. Surely not. A man like him probably had a busy life, filled with obligations. He’d never waste his time musing about a child from the past.

  She forced herself to turn back again and pay attention to the wedding.

  “Clarissa?” Natty plucked at her sleeve. “Who’s that man?”

  “What man?” she asked, pulling the child a bit closer.

  “The one who won’t stop looking at you. Who is he?” Natty’s little face was now trained over her shoulder. “I don’t like him.”

  Clarissa smiled. “A woman of strong conviction.” She brushed back Natty’s hair. “He is Logan’s friend. So that makes him our friend.”

  Natty drew her brow together. “He doesn’t look friendly to me.”

  Clarissa pressed her lips together as she held back a chuckle to keep from encouraging the child. It was just that Natty had a way of saying the absolute truth in the most honest way possible. “You should not judge people on looks.”

  “Really? I saw a bunch of dirty men by our old house and they turned out to be mean.”

  Clarissa shook her head. The child had a point. “All right, fine. Then Lord Baxter might not look friendly, but he doesn’t look mean either.” He looked…intense. Unsettling. Powerful. Handsome. Interesting.

  Natty turned back over Clarissa’s shoulder and stuck out her tongue.

  “Natty,” Clarissa bit out. “That is enough.”

  “He looks like a wolf who wants to eat you. Like in that story.”

  At that moment, the priest loudly announced. “May I present Lord and Lady Goldthwaite.”

  The small gathering broke out in applause and Natty forgot all about the wolf, as she’d called Baxter, but Clarissa was still aware of his eyes on her back. She made herself continue to sit straight ahead but it was only by sheer force of will.

  Why was Baxter looking at her with such intensity? Was he a predator as Natty had suggested?

  Finally, she stole a single glance back again, her eyes clashing with the dark pools of his. “I’m not a wolf,” he murmured.

  “What?” she said as she stood from her seat and then began to exit the pew to follow the bride and groom outside.

  “I’m not the wolf.” He stepped out next to her, his body even larger than she’d imagined as he kept pace with her. “I’m the huntsman.”

  Her breath caught. Not only did he know the story of which Natty spoke, but he was sure he was the hero and not the villain. “You’ve read Children’s and Household Tales?”

  A smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He was a handsome man, his jaw strong, his nose straight, and his lips full. But that smile turned him from handsome to devastating. “Of all the questions you might have asked, that’s the one you chose?”

  Chapter Two

  Clarissa started down the aisle and the earl stepped next to her, his hand coming under her elbow. Mason didn’t need to touch her. She required no aid, but he couldn’t help himself.

  It was her.

  Same name, same hair, same large blue eyes.

  She was even more beautiful than he remembered. In fact, in her dark red dress, she was breathtaking. She actually physically stole the air from his lungs with her beauty. Which caught him completely off guard. He meant to be her protector, her benefactor. But then again, he’d expected to find a girl.

  Which was foolish. Six years had passed, of course she’d grown into a woman. He’d just always pictured her as an innocent child.

  Which made his gaze drop to the ground. Was that attraction he felt tingling in the tips of his fingers? Bloody hell. This wasn’t about his own wants and needs. Finding Clarissa was about helping her. Always had been.

  Bash stepped behind them both. He ignored his brother as he focused on the woman next to him.

  She gave him a curious look in return as she tactfully pulled her elbow from his grasp. The little one she held stuck out her tongue again. “Tell me. What question should I have asked, then?”

  “Is she yours?” He swallowed, looking at the adorable little girl nestled in Clarissa’s arms
. He hadn’t even considered that she might have married, started a family, until he’d seen her with the child in her lap. The thought shouldn’t hurt. If she had married, then she was safe and protected. But the possibility of a married Clarissa didn’t stop his chest from tightening.

  “What?” Clarissa moved further away from him.

  “Clarissa,” the little one asked as her fingers tightened on Clarissa’s arm. “What does he mean?”

  “Hush, Natty,” Clarissa said.

  The tension knotting his insides loosened. Natty had called her Clarissa. Not mama. How old was his little angel now? She’d been twelve. That would make her eighteen or nineteen now, he’d wager.

  She was tall for a woman, thin but shapely. She looked lovely holding a child. He curled his fingers into a tight fist to keep from reaching out and touching her again.

  They made their way out into the cold morning, snow swirling down from the sky. Clarissa left his side and headed toward Penny, the two women embracing, even as Clarissa continued to hold Natty in her arms.

  “The children are the orphans,” Bash said just behind him. “She and that Penny woman took them in.”

  “Of course.” How could he not have realized that? He wasn’t thinking. Seeing her again had muddled his thoughts and dulled his senses. Nor should he be feeling relief at the knowledge that she was still in need of a protector.

  He wanted to know her. Hell. He wished to hold her.

  He’d also frightened her with his intensity. He took a steadying breath. He was a negotiator, a charmer. That was his skill. But he’d spent the entire ceremony staring at her like a raving beast.

  Hell, he was scaring himself. He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he looked at her again. He itched to skim his hand down her golden hair. What would it look like undone?

  “The kid is right.” Bash chuckled. “You look like a wolf ready to eat her alive. You need to relax. Where is my light-handed brother? The best negotiator in all of England?”

  “I can’t help it,” he answered without thinking. Then realized what he had revealed. He repeated to himself that this was not a case of attraction. Or, at least, it hadn’t been. And it shouldn’t be now. She was an angel. A person in need of protecting, he should not subject her to his sudden and base feelings of desire. “I’ve been looking for her for the past six years.”

  “Is that why you keep travelling back to Dover?” Bash asked, shaking his head.

  Mason didn’t bother to answer. Clarissa gave him another sideways glance. The flash of her blue eyes held him captive again.

  “So you’ve really searched for her all these years?”

  “Yes,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “How did she save your life again?” Bash asked.

  He let out a sigh. “It’s difficult to explain.”

  “Try.”

  He gave his brother his best glare. “She gave me water, food, even while I was ravaged with fever. Mopped my brow and she…” He paused, swallowing. “She talked to me. Often. When I thought I was completely alone in this world, her voice…”

  “Bloody Christ,” Bash murmured.

  But Mason didn’t pay him any mind. Clarissa’s gaze met his again. It was time they had an actual conversation. They’d barely exchanged a few clipped words and he’d searched for too long, worried far too much to allow her to slip through his hands now.

  Finding her alone proved harder than Mason anticipated. The crowd kept them apart and she kept moving in whatever direction he wasn’t.

  He grunted in frustration as the carriages began to pull up. Clarissa moved to one and began to load the children inside. After she’d put three little girls in the carriage, she climbed in too.

  He only had a split second to decide. But as the door began to close, he sidestepped Bash and grabbed the handle, pulling the door wide and entering into the carriage.

  It was a good thing he didn’t stop to think. Because if he had, he knew what his mind would say. That he was a bloody idiot.

  Clarissa sat facing forward with a child on either side, the oldest girl facing back.

  He sat down next to the child, pulling the door shut behind him and tapping his cane on the back wall for the driver to start. No turning back now.

  The reins snapped and the carriage started to roll.

  “What are you doing?” Clarissa gasped.

  The girl on the seat next to him jumped up and scurried to the other bench, squeezing herself next to the other girls.

  Inwardly, he winced. If he were attempting to woo her into a deal, like he did in business, he would have considered this a very poor start. “We need to talk.”

  She stared at him, blinking several times. “What is it you wish to say, huntsman?”

  What on earth was happening?

  Clarissa stared at the earl across from her. “Clearly you’re mad,” she said, her heart beating against her ribs. Was it fear? Somehow, she didn’t think it was. “Why would you jump in here with everyone watching?” So much for avoiding worldly sins. Now she’d be considered close to ruin thanks to the Earl of Baxter.

  He cocked his head. “Are you married?” Then he winced.

  Did he regret the question? Why?

  She willed herself to breathe, quieting down the thrumming in her veins. His actions and questions were getting ridiculous and completely inappropriate. “You should know that I have a pocket in my dress.”

  It was his turn, finally, to look confused. “I beg your pardon?”

  “In that pocket is my derringer,” she lied, but she’d always been good at the bluff. It’s why she’d made a decent thief. And was even better at protecting herself. “Which happens to be pointed directly at your chest.” Leaning forward, she gave him a long look. “These girls mean the world to me.”

  His brow creased. “You do know that I donated a large sum to your orphanage, correct? And that I helped Goldthwaite secure a new home for all of you. A very nice one.” He held out his hands in front of him. “I’m here to help you.”

  His words eased some of her tension. She’d forgotten that he’d been one of their donors. She’d have to talk to Penny. Had they collected enough funds to keep the place running? Perhaps she could stop worrying about her father’s secrets and her own misdeeds. Finally. “Thank you?”

  He combed his fingers through his hair. “You’re welcome.”

  “You climbed into my carriage to share that?” she asked, still trying to decide what to do. Did she scream and have the driver stop? Did she find out why the earl was here? She still couldn’t shake the feeling she knew him.

  Without a word, she reached for his cane and plucked it from his hand and then swung it up and tapped on the wall. “Stop,” she called, and the carriage immediately drew to a halt.

  “I thought you might hit me,” he said, gently pulling his cane from her grasp.

  His fingers brushed hers and the strangest tingling of nerves shot all through her body. “It was one possible plan.” She sat back down and slid her hand back in her pocket. “I believe it’s time for you to exit.”

  He leaned forward, the intensity of his gaze making her heart race and her blood rush in her veins. “But I have so much more to say.”

  “Such as?” she huffed, her chest tightening. He made her nervous, and not just because he’d jumped in her carriage. There was something about him that was…exciting. And familiar. Which was ridiculous. She didn’t know this man. He couldn’t be her captain. And she wouldn’t ask. Any minute now he’d leave the carriage and her life forever. Logan would follow the carriage and the rest of the party would overtake them.

  “Did you live in a church in Dover six years ago?”

  His voice remained even, though she was dimly aware of his hand tightening on the top of his cane. Her own breath ceased in her throat. A jolt of pure energy shot down her spine.

  It was him. Her soldier from all those years ago sat across from her now. And more than that, he’d tracked her down, jumped i
n her carriage. He’d remembered her and she’d recognized him, even all these years later. It was a miracle.

  The Captain. The one man to whom she’d spilled her darkest secret. Despite the cold winter air heat made her flush. What would he do with the information he knew about her? Why was he here and why had she told him so much? He’d looked so vulnerable then.

  But the truth was, she didn’t know a thing about him.

  And then there were the letters. Three in the last six months, all from a person in her past, dead set on revenge. The writer hadn’t given his identity but he’d said he knew things about her. Things that would destroy her life. He wanted money in exchange for his silence.

  “No,” the single word popped out of her mouth before she could think it through.

  His eyes widened. “You’re telling me that you are not the Clarissa who cared for soldiers in the basement of a church in Dover during the war?”

  She bit her lip. She’d dreamed of meeting this man again. But what if he were the author of those notes here to collect?

  Her stomach turned. A million times she’d wished for this reunion, prayed for it.

  But he couldn’t be the person who’d wrote those letters, could he? He was an earl and he’d donated to the charities. Why would he need to blackmail her?

  Relief made her limp. But still. She had to end this meeting quickly. The Earl of Baxter already knew too much about her past.

  And yet, her life wasn’t just about her anymore. Even if it were sheer coincidence that he’d arrived now, every one of his friends had donated to her cause. Large sums of money were going to Penny and her to build multiple orphanages. And she intended to build her life over again. Make herself a new person. A person who orphans should trust with their futures. But this man was from her past. The past where she’d done awful things. What would happen if they knew they were entrusting their money to a thief? “I am not.”

  His eyes crinkled. “I don’t believe you.”