Earl of Darling (Wicked Earls' Club)

by Maggie Dallen

She blinked at the odd question. No. No, of course he didn’t. They’d only just met this evening.

  “You went outside to save a cat,” he said. “That tells me what I need to know.”

  Her brows drew together in confusion. “But how could you help? My brother has been trying for weeks now, and to no avail.”

  His lips quirked up ever so slightly at the corners, but it was enough to soften his harsh features and make her breath hitch in her throat. “Your brother does not possess the same...skills that I do.”

  The way he said the word “skills” had her blinking in surprise. He’d somehow managed to make that one harmless word sound horrifying and laden with threat.

  Once again she almost pitied Mr. Stallworth.

  Almost.

  “Lord Darling, I could not possibly ask you to get involved—”

  “You are not asking,” he said. “I’m insisting.”

  She huffed. He was impossible. Unreasonable.

  No wonder he was having trouble fitting in with the ton.

  “I can handle this on my own,” she said.

  “How?” He arched one brow and the effect was positively devilish. “By running away?”

  Heat surged into her cheeks as she glared up at him. “I had a plan,” she said. “It was a good plan.”

  He continued to stare at her, clearly unimpressed.

  “Well, it was a plan,” she muttered. Her only plan, and her only option…

  Until now.

  She swallowed down her pride as she forced herself to use reason. This powerful, titled, terrifying man was offering to help her. “I...I’m not certain I can allow a stranger to come to my aid, no matter how kind the offer.”

  His gaze softened and her heart gave an uncomfortable thud in response. “Then let us not be strangers.” He stuck a hand out, and she stared at it in alarm. “Please, call me Darius.”

  She swallowed back a completely inappropriate and utterly girlish giggle as she slipped her hand into his and watched his large hand swallow hers whole. “Then I suppose you ought to call me Evelyn.”

  “Evelyn.” He murmured her name in that low rumbly voice of his and her belly did a backflip that stole her breath.

  She tugged her hand back, ignoring the racing in her chest as she kept her gaze locked on his cravat.

  A cravat couldn’t make her head spin.

  She cleared her throat. “I would only ask…”

  He waited patiently as she gathered her thoughts. When a new plan came to her, she looked up with a small smile of satisfaction. “I would only ask that you allow me to help you in return.”

  His brows arched up in surprise. Clearly he had not been expecting that. “How would you help me?”

  She darted a meaningful gaze toward the party that was going on without them. “I do have some useful qualities, my lord. And it would be an honor to help you and your sisters make a good impression on your new peers.”

  A true smile curved his lips as he leaned in close. “Consider it a deal.”

  Chapter Four

  Darius stood on the steps of the club he’d just exited, a frown marking his brow.

  By all accounts, he should have considered that visit a success.

  The members of the club were all earls. Men of power, position, and wealth intent upon helping one another gain more of all three.

  And they were willing to welcome him with open arms.

  It seemed the trait they cared the least about was reputation. In fact, several of them took delight in being downright wicked. Hence the name, Wicked Earls’ Club. The W was emblazoned on the door behind him. Which meant they didn’t give a whit about the names whispered behind his back… In fact, several of them hinted with his acceptance into their ranks, they’d quell those rumors soon enough.

  Which had pushed him to accept the invitation into the club without further delay. If not for himself, then for his sisters, he’d need that help navigating the waters of the elite.

  Egads, the upper crust of society was a pit of vipers. He’d rather face the French army again. At least on the battlefield he understood the rules of engagement. Here, he was far less certain.

  Like last night when he’d nearly called that man out.

  Not his finest moment, though it had felt good in the moment.

  He preferred to deal with conflict head on and here in London that was next to impossible.

  He couldn’t very well stand up and declare the rumors false. Though they were...mostly. Guilt rippled through him as it did nearly every time he remembered the past.

  His carriage pulled around and he climbed in, letting out a breath of frustration. His cousin, Thomas, had been the fifth in line for the earldom, a direct nephew of the former earl, and his uncle had graciously bought Thomas a commission in the military.

  Thomas had finagled Darius’s placement directly under his cousin’s command. Despite being third cousins, they’d been inseparable as children, the best of friends. Not being able to afford a commission of his own, serving under Thomas had been the next best thing. And those years had been some of the happiest in his life.

  Until it had all come crashing down.

  First had come the letter that Thomas was being called home. He’d become Earl of Darling and he was needed back on English soil to take over the earldom.

  Thomas had been elated. What was more, as the earl, he’d declared that he would buy a commission for Darius. Both of them would be getting a major bump in rank and they’d gone out to celebrate before Thomas’s return.

  And that’s the moment where everything had gone wrong.

  It had started as a simple disagreement at the bar. A gentleman’s discussion of tactics had turned ugly because of too much pride and too much ale.

  A major called Thomas out, and Thomas, as the man being challenged, had the wherewithal to not choose pistols or even knives but had declared the weapon of choice their fists.

  As the second, it had been Darius’s job to make certain the fight was fair, the rules followed. He hadn’t been worried. It was no more than a pugilistic encounter and the two men had stripped to the waist, removing all rings. The rules were clear, once one man bled, the other was the winner.

  His lackadaisical attitude was one he regretted still and one he was likely to remember for the rest of his life.

  Because Major Ainsworth had a knife tucked into the top of his boot. Darius should have found it before the fight even started but he’d been lax in his search. When it was clear the man would lose, he’d buried that knife in Thomas’s stomach.

  Ainsworth had been court-martialed, of course. And Darius had had to watch his cousin, best friend, and compatriot in arms die a slow and painful death. And then, he’d had to return to England in Thomas’s stead where he’d taken on the title of Earl of Darling.

  It hadn’t taken long for the rumors to follow.

  The gossips started with words like, Look to see who’d profit the most and you’ll find your murderer. Never mind that Thomas’s murderer was rotting in prison.

  But Darius hadn’t corrected them then. And he didn’t now. Sometimes, like last night, he wished to. He was the beast they accused him of being and he’d wanted to bury his rather large fist in that man’s face. He’d held back, not just because of Tabetha, but because a part of him was to blame. He should have protected Thomas better. It had been his job as Thomas’s second and closest friend.

  The carriage arrived back at the town house they now called home and he entered the house with a tired sigh.

  He should have been elated. He’d made valuable connections today. But memories of Thomas still weighed him down.

  He’d failed Thomas then and he hadn’t done much better for Miss Rathmore today either.

  He’d accepted that invitation to see if a possible groom might present himself.

  His only viable plan to help her was to find another man who’d take Miss Rathmore’s hand.

  She was the daughter of a viscount and by all accoun
ts had an excellent dowry. Her family’s reputation was spotless.

  Miss Rathmore was also, and he could personally attest to this, absolutely lovely by moonlight. Her skin glowed in its cool tones, her features a perfect mix of beautiful, sweet, and charming.

  And even under the odd circumstances of their meeting, she’d been poised beyond compare. Any man would be proud to call a woman like that wife.

  But the men at that club…

  None of them deserved her. Crass, rude, deviant—he’d sooner throw himself in front of a firing pistol then subject her to one of them.

  He could just imagine what this Stallworth was like that she’d felt the need to run away.

  “Darius,” Tabetha called with her usual enthusiasm, lifting her skirts and racing down the stairs to greet him. “Do not take off your hat or gloves. We’ve had the best invitation.”

  “What now?” he grumbled low and deep. It was the sort of sound that scared many but didn’t bother his sisters a bit. They were used to his gruff manner and knew he meant little by it.

  “Shush,” Tabetha entered the foyer fully dressed for fashionable walking and waving her hand to dismiss his words the way one might push away a bug. “Miss Rathmore has invited us to join her on a walk in Hyde Park. Isn’t that lovely?”

  Miss Rathmore? Was she making good on their bargain already? A bit of warmth seeped into his dark mood and pleasure rippled through him. Without another word, he held out his elbow to Tabetha. “Let’s be off then.”

  He led her out the door and handed her back into the carriage that hadn’t had the opportunity to return to the stable. As they settled in their seats, his sister gave him an assessing look, her chin notched to the side. “You’re in one of those moods again.”

  He looked out the window, pretending not to have heard. Talking would help little.

  “Darius...” His sister tapped his knee, refusing to be ignored. “Don’t pretend you cannot hear me. What’s wrong with you?”

  Darius sighed. Everyone who knew his family was well aware that he rarely denied his sisters a thing. He loved them. It was as simple as that and their happiness was one of the few things that brought him joy these days. “If you must know, I was thinking of Thomas.”

  Tabetha pressed her lips together, sitting straighter. “You must stop blaming yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Do you think society will cease blaming me at some point?” His jaw hardened. He’d like to leave London and go home. Run his lands and live his life in peace. But Tabetha, Clarissa, and Mariah needed to be here. It was important for their futures. His hand clenched into a fist. He’d endure far worse to secure their happiness.

  “They don’t blame you…” She trailed off wincing.

  “You hear them too. I know you do.” His jaw hardened. It was unbecoming as a man and an earl to whine to his little sister about being teased. What had gotten into him? “It doesn’t matter. You’re right. I must enjoy this unseasonably warm day and the fine company of Miss Rathmore.”

  Tabetha’s eyebrows rose, but she only nodded as the carriage slowed to a stop.

  Fifteen minutes later, they found Miss Rathmore standing with another woman, who surely must be her maid.

  She gave a polite wave as Tabetha enthusiastically waved back. Darius cringed. His sisters hadn’t been raised in this world and the difference in the two women’s behavior couldn't have been more obvious.

  But Miss Rathmore didn’t seem to notice as she linked arms with Tabetha. The maid fell back a respectable distance and he trailed just behind the two women as they began to talk. “That is the Marchioness of Hastings,” Miss Rathmore’s voice dropped. “She is very particular about who she associates with. You must be careful not to approach her unless specifically invited.”

  Tabetha nodded as Miss Rathmore continued to educate his sister on who to seek out in society and who to avoid. She was a veritable fountain of information as she explained several relationships and customs when navigating society.

  “Normally, I would not have reached out to you for this walk. You are the sister of an earl whilst I am only the daughter of a viscount.”

  “Only.” Tabetha rolled her eyes.

  Miss Rathmore smiled. “But your brother expressly requested that I make your acquaintance and so…”

  Tabetha gave him a long look over her shoulder before she returned her gaze back to Miss Rathmore. “I am so glad you did.”

  “As am I,” she answered, giving Tabetha a wide smile that honestly tugged on his heartstrings and some of his worry for his sisters eased.

  “Look,” Tabetha pointed. “They are selling biscuits and tea. It’s getting colder as the sun dips. Let’s get some.”

  Darius sighed, a grumbling loud complaint that was his custom. “It’s halfway across the park, Tabetha. Must we?”

  “I’ll go myself then,” Tabetha huffed as she looked back at Miss Rathmore. “Would your maid attend me?”

  “Of course.” Miss Rathmore smiled as Tabetha set off with the other woman in tow.

  “Say it,” he grumbled. “She’s a miscreant.”

  “She’s darling,” Miss Rathmore gushed and then gave a musical laugh. “I did not intend that to be a play on your title. I meant I find her very charming indeed. Her zest and enthusiasm are infectious.”

  “You’re just saying that.” He grimaced again but the words pleased him a great deal. “And you’re the only one not intentionally poking at the obvious irony of a man such as myself being given the name Darling.”

  “I don’t know.” She shifted, looking down at her feet. She looked so vulnerable. It had been the same last night. Something inside him swelled inside, longing to protect her. “You agreed to help me without even knowing me. To me, that makes you very…” She paused, looking up at him with a small, sweet smile. “Darling indeed.”

  Warmth spread through him. For the first time since he’d arrived back in England, he didn’t feel so out of place.

  “I find you very charming as well.”

  A pale pink stained her cheeks, the delicate color stealing the air from his lungs. “Thank you, my lord.”

  * * *

  My lord. Inwardly, he cringed at the reminder of his new position.

  He cleared his throat. A change of topic was in order. “I think I’ve come up with a solution to your problem.”

  Her eyes widened as she looked at him again. “You have?”

  He nodded. “I think the best solution is for you to make a better match.”

  Her mouth formed into a small O of surprise as her hands folded over her stomach. “It is very difficult to court when one is already engaged.”

  He nodded in acknowledgement. “I thought the same. I went to a gentlemen’s club to see if I could find a possible candidate, but none of the men I met suited you.”

  Her face paled. “You didn’t tell them your plan, did you?”

  “Of course not,” he grunted. “I’m not a complete fool.”

  “I didn’t mean…” She drew in a breath. “My apologies. I did not intend to offend. I have to confess that I am rather invested in your offer of help as I have very few other options.”

  He gave a single nod. Tabetha moved farther away and he offered his arm to Miss Rathmore to follow. They shouldn't allow too much distance between her and her companion. But the moment her hand slipped into his arm, his stomach dropped.

  It had been the same last night when he’d caught her when she’d slipped on the ice. Sensation skittered along his skin causing his head to grow dizzy and light.

  It was part of what made him offer for help then and it was absolutely what prompted him now to go completely mad and begin spewing a stream of nonsense. “It occurred to me that we could deepen our bargain to help one another.” His heart began to pound heavily as the idea took hold and refused to let go. The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “I have two more sisters like Tabetha that will need to launch and you have a fiancé you do not want. Perhaps t
he best solution would be for us to marry.”

  Her fingers clenched his arm even as she stumbled to a stop. The gaffe was nearly imperceptible, except that he felt it. She turned to him, her voice no more than a breathy whisper. “My lord, I must refuse.”

  Chapter Five

  Evelyn stared up at the ceiling and stewed. It was all she seemed to be capable of anymore. Stewing and waiting.

  Three long days had passed and still her last interaction with Darius was no less vivid in her mind.

  My lord, I must refuse.

  Blank stare. Brutal silence.

  Very well, then.

  She frowned up at the ceiling. Very well, then.

  Very well, then?

  As if he’d just asked her if she’d like a cup of tea and she’d declined. She took a deep breath to slow her breathing. It would not do to get all flushed and bothered when she was supposed to be getting ready for tonight’s dinner party at the Havelands’ townhouse.

  Darius would be there. The youngest Haveland daughter was a friend of Evelyn’s and when Evelyn had asked Charlotte to ensure that Darling and his sister were invited, she had promptly agreed without even asking why.

  So, yes. She knew without a doubt that she would see him again tonight. That was likely why she couldn’t stop replaying his shocking proposal. Darius would be there—Tabetha, too, of course—and she would have to face him.

  She would have to look him in the eye and make small talk, all the while knowing that the man had asked her to spend the rest of her life by his side…

  And she’d said no.

  She growled up at the ceiling, a noise that would have made the intimidating Earl of Darling rather proud, she imagined.

  Very well, then.

  She pounded her fists against the mattress in frustration. Of all the responses. And then he’d just led them over to join Tabetha and Evelyn’s maid, and they’d all resumed their silly outing in the cold as if nothing at all had occurred.

  She huffed loudly as her eyes narrowed into slits. Anger was the easiest emotion to identify these past few days and she clung to it fiercely. It was easier than picking apart the other sensations.