The Exception of an Earl

by Deborah Wilson

  That he was putting Camilla in danger only made Will more determined.

  Dutton patted his shoulder. “My friend’s wife disappeared last year. They say she did it.”

  Will frowned. “What do you mean? The woman is kidnapping now?”

  Dutton looked at Morris.

  Morris said. “From what I’ve heard, more than a few ladies have vanished, but the husbands and fathers aren’t reporting it. Instead, they say that their ladies have gone to visit family.”

  “Why am I just hearing about this?” Will asked. “How did you find out?”

  Dutton said, “Some of the women returned so we were confused but others haven’t. I was working on another mission when I started to hear the rumors. Women vanishing. Their husbands in panic. The men haven’t killed them, I’m sure of it, still, they pretend all is well.”

  Will thought over the reports he’d read. Few women had been killed by poison in the last few months. Instead, the victims were men. “She must have help if she’s taking people.”

  Dutton shook his head. “Well… God be with you, friend.”

  Will stood and allowed the new information to sink in.

  Morris asked. “Where are you off to this evening?”

  “A party.”

  “Oh.” Morris put some enthusiasm into the sound and tried for a smile. “West London?”

  Will nodded. “All part of the assignment.”

  Dutton put on a haughty West End accent. “Remember your place.”

  Will drank the last of his ale and placed the cup on the table. “That, I’ll never forget.”

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  1 1

  * * *

  He was here. Camilla had sensed Will long before she saw him.

  The air was different around him. Underneath the murmur of the delicate ton was something very worldly.

  Will stood on the other side of the room. He was speaking to two lords, but Camilla barely gave them more than a fleeting look before she focused on Sir William Husher.

  The music, the voices, and very air faded as she took in his presence.

  He was in profile as he stood close to the wall. She’d never noticed a man’s thighs until him. They were divine, encased in his tan buckskins. His boots seemed to elongate him, making it appear as though he went on forever.

  Her gaze climbed to his coat. It was green and her heart fluttered as she thought about what the rich color did to his eyes. She wondered if he wore a corset because there didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat on his belly.

  She knew he didn’t. She imagined that if she pressed her hands against him she’d fine nothing but smooth skin.

  What would that be like?

  He stiffened and she lifted her eyes and gasped.

  Caught.

  He was staring at her.

  His gaze was intentional and knowing.

  Some time passed and then he looked away, pulled back into his conversation with the other gentlemen.

  She lowered her head and her felt embarrassment heat her cheeks.

  “He’s here, isn’t he?” Emily said.

  Camilla grabbed her arm. “Don’t look. Then he’ll know we’re talking about him.” She was nervous enough.

  “And what is the harm in that?” Emily laughed, but thankfully she kept her blue eyes on Camilla. “We’ve been talking about him since my carriage came to get you. Do you think he received Luke’s invitation? Perhaps we should go over and ask.”

  Camilla’s eyes widened. “No.” She studied her giggling friend. “You’re being quite odd.”

  “Odd?”

  “Bold is the word that comes to mind.”

  They’d been to gatherings together before. She, Emily, and Luke had attended a few dinners in the past. Emily had always seemed a meek and quiet woman. Camilla wondered if her new sister was just starting to show her true self or if there was more to her sister-in-law’s sudden daring nature.

  Emily sighed. “That likely has something to do with what happened this morning. I’d never seen you shout at Luke before. I’d never seen anyone do it. Not even his father dares to push Luke into doing something he doesn’t want to do.”

  “That’s because our father doesn’t care either way.”

  “No.” Emily shook her head. “Lord Hornstein has repeatedly came around to take Luke somewhere. He wants Luke to go on shooting trips and to the races.”

  Camilla’s heart dropped and fell into deep despair. It was as though her earlier happiness had never existed. She wanted to cry. The pain was go great. What was wrong with her? Why didn’t her father love her as he did Luke?

  Emily must have seen it on her face. She grabbed Camilla’s arm. “Oh. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t I think before I spoke? And Luke told me not to mention it. I’m so sorry. Luke says no most of the time.” The last was meant to comfort her.

  But it didn’t. Camilla would never say no.

  She shrunk away and gathered her skirts. She needed to get away.

  She turned, but a wall suddenly blocked her retreat.

  She looked up and had to blink her tears away to make out Will’s face.

  “Now that we’ve been formally introduced, I’m allowed to approach you both.” He bowed to Emily and then her. Yet even as he turned to the other woman, his gaze stayed on her.

  He lowered his voice. “What’s wrong?”

  Camilla felt numb. She couldn’t move. She could hardly breathe. Conflicting sensations were gathering inside her. She was anxious. She was sad.

  She was… something else as she held his eyes.

  It rose up warm within her and returned feeling to her limbs and her lips. “Nothing. I…”

  “Let’s all step into the hall, shall we?” Emily said.

  Will offered an arm to both of them and pointed his gaze straight ahead.

  Camilla took his arm, slowly wrapping her fingers around him.

  She nearly gasped as a shiver spread through her arms and up her neck.

  She’d been right about his strength. She felt the muscle even through his jacket.

  It was difficult not to grip him inappropriately.

  She was aware that she was being watched. People watched those with a semblance of fame.

  He didn’t look at her once as they left the room. He spoke to Emily mostly.

  But the moment they reached the rather empty gallery, Emily said, “Oh, dear. There’s a tear in my skirt. I’ll have a maid fix it. Please wait here for me.” She flitted into the room just across from them.

  Camilla was left alone with Will.

  Though not entirely. There were still others around.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked almost as soon as the door to the women’s lounge closed.

  Camilla shook her head. She couldn’t look at him so she stared at his shoulder. “Nothing.” She couldn’t tell him the truth. The pathetic truth that her father loved his son more than he loved Camilla.

  If he loved her at all.

  Would any man ever?

  * * *

  Will shifted on his feet.

  He’d never concerned himself with a woman’s feelings before. It dawned on him that this was the case even when he proposed to Annie a few months ago.

  They hadn’t been in love. He’d been a scoundrel for sleeping with her all those years ago. He’d been working for Landcastle at the time. Will had been sent to the Hurrell family to discover the truth about her father, presenting himself as the young liaison for the Royal Society of Medicine.

  But he’d gotten distracted, and he’d been caught with his pants down.

  Literally.

  He’d left before the family could learn his true intentions and had asked Landcastle to assign him to a different task.

  A few months later, he received a letter from Lord Hurrell, which demanded Will return to accept the consequences of his actions. His daughter was with child.

  Unwilling to take responsibility, he’d ignored the summons and not even a month later, the news spread
that the entire family was dead.

  A fire had burned their estate to the ground.

  Will had been able to ignore his emotions for some time after that. He’d never allowed himself to feel anything about the matter until a couple of years later. Will’s old army general, Lord Remy Astger, had offered him and Raven a position in Lord Van Dero’s personal military.

  Will had been ready to decline the offer, but Landcastle had told him to take it and to find out what illegal business the duke was up to.

  Landcastle had been suspicious of the new Van Dero after hearing the terrible stories of his predecessor Lord Gregory.

  Will had joined along with Raven.

  And they’d both discovered the truth about Cassius Hayes, the new Duke of Van Dero.

  He was a powerful man who did terrible things, but deep down, he had a good heart. He only hurt those who hurt the defenseless and since Landcastle was oathbound to work within the law… he’d pretended to not know what Van Dero was up to.

  And now the two men were friends.

  Will had a feeling something terrible had happened to Camilla and worried that the terrible thing might have something to do with his assignment. “Camilla, you can tell me what’s the matter. Has someone been hurt? Has someone hurt you?”

  She looked up at him with clear gray eyes. “No.”

  “No one has hurt you?” He needed a clear answer on that. His chest burned and would continue to do so until he was certain. “Has anyone threatened you?”

  She frowned and smiled. Then she laughed as though the very thought was ridiculous. “Threatened me? Who would threaten me?”

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  1 2

  * * *

  Will sighed around the tightness in his chest and eventually it gave. “No, I suppose no one would dare threaten you.”

  “Well, you threatened me.” She was still smiling. Her smile was so much better than her tears. “You threatened me in the alley. ‘Great perils await those who dare to brave this place,’” she said, returning his own words to him.

  “That wasn’t so much a threat as it was a warning.”

  “It was very poetic. And the words you chose… ‘this place,’ you said.” The words were whispered. “You said them as though you belonged in the dark alley and I didn’t. Do you feel you are a resident of a darkness? Do you believe it to be your home?”

  “Such odd questions.” He didn’t like that she could see him so well.

  “I’m a writer,” she said, tilting her head. “I ask odd questions.”

  “I’d never hurt you.”

  Her eyes warmed. “That’s so good to know.”

  “For your book?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Is this all for your book?” He was still amazed that anyone would want to write about him.

  He had to hold back a groan when he thought of just what would happen when Society found out he was an earl. They’d be writing about him for the rest of the Season if not longer.

  Camilla continued to watch him silently. Then she pulled out of her little journal and pencil.

  Will moved around and peered over her shoulder. A shadow in the shadows.

  “What does that even mean?” He took the book and flipped through her other notes.

  She’d written a full page about him, descriptions that he couldn’t begin to understand. As he neared the end, he was almost certain that he didn’t know the man she was writing about.

  “Give that back to me.”

  “I’m not finished.”

  She reached for the book and he held it in the air, open so he could continue to read.

  He looked down at her. “Wait.”

  “No.” She lifted defiant brows. “Give it back this minute.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not a child.”

  Her eyes moved to his mouth and then flickered back up to his. “Then stop acting like one. Give it back.” She held out her hand.

  Will ignored her dainty fingers and went back to flipping through the journal.

  “That is not for you to read,” she cried.

  “A romance?” He closed the book and studied her. “You never said that this was a romance. Your last book wasn’t a romance. Who’s the leading woman?”

  Her cheeks heated and she backed away. “That’s none of your business.”

  “But isn’t it? I’m the hero, aren’t I? Tell me. I want to know what sort of woman you’ve decided to pair me with.” He looked Camilla over and wondered if it was her. Would she make the heroine herself?

  “Who said you are the leading male?” She lifted a brow. “You could very well be the pig farmer, someone a little less significant to the story.”

  “No, I’m definitely the lead. You had the lead listed as blond, but now he’s got dark hair.” He grinned.

  “Will, do be serious,” she cried. Strangely, the sound reminded him of his mother.

  That tone was irritation. And affection.

  “I want my book back.” Her lips twitched.

  He placed his hands behind his back and leaned over her. “I don’t remember giving you permission to use my name so very informally.”

  She batted her eyes and a very different expression settled into her visage. Her irises were hot. Her cheeks pink and lifted. Her lips parted, the lower one slightly pouted as if in offering.

  He was no longer thinking about his mother.

  His blood left his brain and pooled somewhere in his breeches.

  Will knew this was her ‘come hither look’, the one the other young man had warned her about, the one that held promises she wasn’t willing to fulfill.

  Where had she learned it? Did it come naturally for her?

  She was trouble, indeed.

  “How many men have you kissed?” he asked suddenly.

  She blinked and her siren expression fled. Thank the heavens.

  “Why?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s just a question.”

  “If I answer it, will you give me back my book?”

  He thought it over. “No, but I have a different question. Let me help you with your book.”

  “That’s not a question and you already are.”

  “No, I mean with the story. I suddenly find myself very interested in how it turns out.”

  She not only wanted to write about him, but she wanted to make him fall in love.

  He understood that the man in the book wasn’t actually him. He’d have a different name and a sensible occupation if he wasn’t already a lord.

  The man wasn’t him and yet he was.

  And this might be it for him. This tale of love would likely be the only love he ever got.

  It was sad, yet at the same time it was comforting. He’d have this story even if it was never published. But he hoped it was published.

  Also, there was another reason to keep close to Camilla.

  Her temptress look combined with her father’s search for the poison woman put Camilla in danger. She’d need an extra set of eyes on her, and he didn’t see her brother around tonight.

  He recalled how her father had left her with a sleeping grandmother the previous night.

  Who took care of this woman?

  As if in answer, Lady Emily returned. “Oh, Camilla, you look better. I’m glad.”

  “Tell him to give me my book,” Camilla said.

  “Tattler,” he accused.

  She gaped at him and then laughed. “Now, Sir Will.”

  He was sir once more. “You’ve yet to answer my question.”

  “You’ve yet to ask one.” She held out her hand.

  Their gazes locked.

  He sighed dramatically. “Very well.”

  He handed her the book and then turned to Lady Emily. “I received your husband’s invitation and accept.”

  “Wonderful. We’ll see you then. Come, Cammie. Let’s go say hello to a few other guests.” The woman dragged her away, which did not offend Will at all.

  They couldn
’t be in one another’s company for too long. That was how gossip started.

  But Camilla was no child. Will hadn’t been certain at first, but the more he talked to her, the more he could see her maturity. How old was she, and why had she not yet married?

  Why did it matter?

  He decided it didn’t as he moved in the opposite direction of where Camilla’s sister-in-law had dragged her away.

  He’d done what he needed to do here. He would meet with Camilla’s family another day and hopefully learn more about the person their father hated enough to try and poison.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  1 3

  * * *

  Will’s steps came to a halt when he saw Annie standing at the other end of the hall. His heart raced. He hadn’t seen her in the crowd. He wondered just how long she’d been standing there, staring at him.

  And she was staring at him. Her blue eyes were accusing. Her steps were rushed as she approached him.

  “You were not on the guest list,” he said. He worked to avoid her. He hated running into her. He hated the way she made him feel.

  The guilt made him sick. It pressed against his stomach and nearly had him giving up his accounts.

  “I wasn’t on the list until this very evening.” She looked beyond him in the direction that Camilla had run off in. “Who was that?”

  “No one.” He took her arm and led her into a closed drawing room.

  Her eyes blazed as she turned to him. “You fancy Lady Camilla James, don’t you?”

  So she did know who Will had been speaking to. Perhaps her question hadn’t been so much as who Camilla was as much as it was who Camilla was to him.

  “We just met. I haven’t known her long.”

  “She’s pretty. I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Annie’s lips turned down. There was pain and anger in her eyes.

  He took a deep breath. “There is nothing going on between us.”

  “There better not be,” she warned. “But perhaps I should warn her about the man you are. Maybe I should tell her what you did to me. Just to make sure.”

  He shook his head and swallowed. “That won’t be necessary. I won’t marry her.”

  “You better not.” Annie pointed her finger at him as though it were a dagger. “You don’t deserve happiness. You can’t have it, not until I have it.”