Love with a Notorious Rake

by Karyn Gerrard

  “But we used protection,” he offered lamely.

  She glanced up at him. “Not the first time, at the end of May. Remember?”

  How could he forget? It had been one of the most erotic encounters of his life. And the sex that followed had only improved. God. He had spilled inside her. What were the odds of getting her with child on the first shot? Damn it all to hell and back, he was about to be a grandfather! He scrubbed his hand down his face.

  “I could sell this house, move away,” Alberta said, her voice shaking. “Or do what most women do in this situation: head to a secluded country spot, give birth, give up the baby, and return and act as if nothing had happened. Or I could have the child and damn society and its censure, but then the child would be forever tainted—”

  Julian enfolded her trembling hands with his. “Stop, Alberta.”

  “I was rambling, wasn’t I? And I’ve upset you. I could have kept this to myself and left without any word or explanation, but I could not do that to you.”

  “I’m shocked, and, yes, upset. My twins were born close to twenty-seven years ago. I am too old to be a father.”

  Alberta pulled her hands from his and frowned. “Well, I am not exactly in the prime of life. I’m frightened, Julian. Pregnancies at this age are fraught with complications. I don’t want to go it alone.”

  “I’ve put you in danger.” His heart lurched with worry. What had he done?

  “Are you speaking of the curse?”

  He nodded. “It is not to be dismissed.”

  “We must dismiss it, Julian. I’m not with child because of the ghostly specter of an ancient curse. We had unprotected sex. At our age, we should have known better. It’s called life. It happens.” Her voice had an edge, but he couldn’t blame her.

  Julian took her hand again. “You’re right. It is time for me to say that I am deeply and irrevocably in love with you, my darling. I’ve hinted at it, and showed you physically, but I held back from speaking the words because, as I said, the scars run deep.” He kissed her hand. “Would you believe me if I told you I was thinking of marriage on my way here? Father announced at dinner last night that he and Mary would be doing the deed come September. It appears we will be beating them to the altar—if you will have me, superstitions and all. If…you love me.”

  Alberta’s eyes were moist. “Oh, you dear man. I think I fell in love with you the moment Poppy the llama spit on you all those months ago. The moment you were kind to Jonas, and didn’t talk down to him or treat him as if he were damaged or unacceptable. I fell in love with your dedication to your social causes, how seriously you took your position as a Member of Parliament. How much you love your family. And yes, I even love your curse.” She placed her hand on top of his. “I understand your hesitation, but we cannot allow the past to affect our future. We need each other, Julian. We love each other. And together, we can accomplish anything. Even the uncertain prospect of becoming parents at our age.”

  Julian leaned in and kissed her. Then their arms were about each other. When they broke apart, Alberta laid her head on his shoulder. He spread his hand and laid it across her middle. “A child. Our child. My God. What did Phillips say? Are you in fine health?”

  She nodded. “If I take care, keep activity to a minimum, and eat well. I must say, I shocked him when I asked about sex. He said if I’m careful, there is no reason I cannot continue relations for the next few months.”

  Julian laughed, feeling lighter than he had in ages. Happiness washed over him. A cloud had been lifted from his soul, one that had held a tight grip on him for decades. “Will you marry me? Make my life complete? Love me until the end of our days?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  He continued to caress her stomach. “There is much to do. I will procure a special licence immediately. We will be married within days.”

  “What about Aidan? Surely you wish for him to be in attendance.”

  Right. Of course. “I will send word. By the sound of his last letter, he is near the end of his task. When he gives us an approximate date of when he’ll be home, we will plan. Two weeks at most. We can be married at the hall, or the chapel in Sevenoaks. Entirely up to you.”

  She cupped his cheek, and he reveled in the warmth of her touch. “Everything will be all right, Julian, I know it. Our baby will be born healthy, and I will survive the ordeal. You have my word.”

  He gently pulled her into his embrace. God, let that be the case. No more dwelling on the past or lingering on loss and grief—or a centuries-old curse.

  He was being given another chance at love and life, and damn it, he was going to take it.

  * * * *

  Cristyn nervously awaited Aidan’s arrival. It was past seven. Had he changed his mind? With the soft rap at the door, her heart sped up. She opened it and there he stood. He bowed slightly, and she stepped aside to allow him to enter. Once she closed the door she was swept up into his hot embrace and he kissed her, delving into her mouth with a scorching heat that ignited her insides. Cristyn couldn’t help herself; she tunneled her fingers into his thick hair, hungrily caressing her tongue with his.

  Breathing hard, they broke apart.

  “Where is Middlemiss?” Aidan asked, looking about.

  “Upstairs in his room. He promised not to disturb us.”

  Aidan stroked her flushed cheek with the back of his fingers. “He informed me he is not interested in you romantically.”

  “Believe me, he truly isn’t. Shall we sit?”

  He touched her forehead with his own. “The last damned thing I want to do is talk. I am selfish to the core, for I want nothing more than to lay you across this desk, lift your skirts, and lick and taste you until you scream out my name.”

  Oh. “How deliciously naughty. Have you done that with other women?”

  “Too many to count.” Aidan laid hot kisses along her neck. “I have a bad reputation; you might as well know it now.”

  “Will you tell me of your past?” She took his hand and led him to the small settee on the opposite side of the room. Once they were seated, they turned slightly to face each other.

  “My decline came over a number of years. You saw me at rock bottom. Even after all this time, I cannot quite puzzle out how it happened. Or why. I was rich, selfish, eager to experience all life had to offer. I make no excuses. I accept my failures. All I wanted was the next thrill, and it consisted of seedy venues and disreputable companions of both sexes. Until I disappeared, lost in the morass of utter depravity. Uncle Garrett and Mr. Seward located me and brought me to the sanatorium. I do not remember much of my last month, but I remember enough to be horrified and ashamed.”

  His sober words touched her heart, for she had seen the result. “The circle of burns on your back. What happened?”

  “You will leave me with nothing?”

  “I want to understand. Is it something to do with the man that showed up at the sanatorium? The brute who wielded a knife?”

  Aidan’s eyebrow arched. “You witnessed that?”

  She nodded. “For a few minutes, he yelled at my father and me to leave.”

  “Ah,” Aidan murmured. “I remember. Yes, it had to do with the brute. It is not a pretty story. But before I reveal that particular mess, I need to finish telling you about my family. The Wollstonecrafts do live in Kent; my uncle does breed horses. I told you of my brother, Riordan. He married last autumn and his wife, Sabrina, is expecting a baby in a matter of weeks. My father is a Member of Parliament. My grandfather is in the House of Lords.”

  Cristyn blinked. “Lords? Then he is a member of the peerage? Which makes you, what exactly? Are you the older brother?”

  Aidan nodded.

  My God. He was the heir. An aristocrat, though his posh accent should have been a clue. She merely thought it a result of his wealth and education. Her conversation with Paris push
ed to the front of her mind, and what he’d said about his lover. Heirs to the aristocracy are strange creatures. They are born, weaned, and raised on a steady diet of honor and duty. When it comes down to it, no matter the utterances and assurances of love and devotion, they will choose duty and family.

  What would an heir of the peerage want with the daughter of a Welsh country doctor? Except for a dalliance? An affair? A mistress? She gulped deeply. “And your grandfather is what, exactly?”

  “An earl.”

  “I had no idea. You are Lord Wollstonecraft. Isn’t that how the heir apparent is referred to?” she whispered.

  “It’s a courtesy, it means nothing. In fact, I often insist that it not be used, for it makes me uncomfortable.” His mouth quirked sardonically. “I sign my letters to my brother ‘Lord Nothing.’ And I have been that for far too long. It’s why I’m here. I wish to remedy my past mistakes.”

  Good God, a lord. Her mind was swimming to such an extent she couldn’t form a response to his Lord Nothing remark. “I knew you were rich, but part of the aristocracy? This changes…well, everything.” She frowned and shook her head.

  “In what way?” Aidan demanded.

  “How can there be anything of permanence?” Cristyn rubbed her forehead. “I am getting ahead of myself, for when has either of us mentioned a lasting relationship? Though we’ve been acquainted for months, what do we really know about each other? Why use the false name?”

  “It was Garrett who gave the name of Black; I went along with it. I understood his way of thinking. Protect the family. Protect me. In light of the gossip, it was a wise move.”

  “Gossip?”

  “Before my disappearance, I was called a notorious rake. Scandalous affairs. Dissolute company. Sinful parties. Indulgences of all sorts. I told you, I am not a nice man.” He crossed his arms and frowned. “The burns on my back? Done by an aristocrat who wanted to inflict pain, not only on me, but my family.” Aidan told her of the Marquess of Sutherhorne and his intense hatred for the family, his kidnapping of his brother’s wife, the shooting of his uncle, and the gossip he’d spread.

  Cristyn gasped. “That is terrible.”

  “The long discussions with your father have put much of what happened in proper perspective. I agree with him that addiction is a disease, even though everyone, including those in the medical community, do not. They say it is a weakness, a lack of character. Perhaps it is both. All I know is that I don’t want to be that man anymore. The selfish, rich, heir apparent. Hence why I suggested this covert operation to my father and grandfather. They are working to amend the Factory Act. All the information I gather here will further their cause.”

  “I admire you for it; you’ve already proven you are not ‘Lord Nothing,’” Cristyn said. And she meant it.

  He bowed in response.

  “The act certainly needs amending,” she continued. “The plight of the poor here needs immediate attention. My reason for coming here? I wanted to do something useful with all I had learned from my father. But there was a selfish motive as well; I needed to distance myself from the sanatorium, and from the memory of you.”

  Aidan caressed her cheek, trailing the tip of his finger across her lips, causing her to shiver with desire. “As usual, I handled it in a ham-fisted manner. I should have explained myself better. I wanted…hell, I needed to discover if I was even worthy of your affection. Anyone’s affection. To see if there was a decent man below the artificial surface.”

  “And would you have sought me out after your journey of discovery?”

  Aidan dropped his hand. “The truth? I’m not certain. By the time I departed Standon I had convinced myself you were better off without me. Finding you here in Earl Shilton was fate. Who am I to argue with fate? But it also made me realize I was a fool for walking away.”

  Cristyn absorbed his words. Then she recalled what her father had said: He is far above us in station. He’s not for you. Her heart sank. “Maybe you were right to walk away,” she murmured. “My father said it would never work between us. That you are not of our class.” She shook her head sadly. “Heir to an earl? You’re expected to marry well. Society demands it, perhaps even your family. It is your duty—”

  “Fuck duty! When did I ever give a hang about it?” Aidan cried. “You speak of something lasting. Damn it all, Cristyn, why can’t we be happy?”

  Her eyes widened at his vulgarity.

  “Yes, my angel. I am profane on top of my many faults. Apologies. Believe me when I tell you that no one in my family holds with such strictures. In fact, my grandfather, the Earl of Carnstone, is to marry a lovely woman who happens to be an ex-lady’s maid. The family couldn’t be happier for him.”

  Wait. “Did you say Earl of Carnstone?” The conversation with Cyn flooded her mind. Disgraceful party. Orgy. Auction. Licentious lord. An heir to an earl. All the jagged pieces fit together to form a tragic picture. Aidan was the heir. The brute that had showed up at the sanatorium in February? Did he have something to do with the gossip? Was the lord the one that perpetrated heinous acts against his family?

  Oh, Aidan. How horrible. Her heart swelled with compassion, hating the fact Aidan had come to such a degrading circumstance. “I heard the gossip from my friend, who heard it from her cousin in London. I had no idea it was you. Only that it was the heir to the Earl of Carnstone. I am sorry.”

  He blinked. ‘What are you on about?”

  “The auction at an orgy,” she replied sympathetically.

  “No pity, please. I can see it in your eyes,” he snapped.

  Cristyn placed her hands on her hips. “It’s not pity. There is no need for you to be defensive about it.” She huffed.

  Aidan didn’t have a chance to reply, for Paris walked into the room. Blast it.

  “I am sorry to interrupt, but we have a medical call. Mrs. Barton’s son came to the back door. I will need your assistance,” Paris said.

  “Then I will take my leave.” Aidan bowed stiffly and departed before she had a chance to say anything. But this conversation was not over. Once the medical call was completed, she would tell him that she would never turn from him.

  Cristyn would make him understand that she loved him in spite of his past, and, in turn, because of it.

  Chapter 18

  Aidan marched toward the inn. Christ, she’d heard of the gossip in Standon. What were the odds? How far did the blasted tattle spread? Coast to coast and every point in between? Once he entered the inn, he vaulted up the stairs. Fumbling for his key, he grumbled and cursed under his breath until he located it, unlocked the door, and entered. Aidan halted in his tracks. The room was in darkness, as the curtains had been drawn. Someone was here, for he could smell stale tobacco and sweat. In the corner of the room, the red illumination of a lit cheroot glowed in the shadows.

  “Hello, Aidan.”

  The gravelly voice was unmistakeable. Delaney. Aidan closed his eyes. Unbelievable. Why, at this moment, considering he had just discussed this disturbing episode with Cristyn? Yes, I am cursed, and no mistake. Stay calm. Aidan’s eyes popped open and he glanced about the dim room, looking for anything he could use as a weapon.

  Delaney dropped the cheroot to the wood-planked floor and ground it out with his boot. “I’m not here to harm you.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “To finish the conversation we started at that damned clinic.” He turned the knob on the gas lamp by his chair and came into focus. His harsh looks were made all the more menacing by the muted light.

  Aidan’s past would follow him straight to the grave. It pursued and haunted him regardless of his good intentions. He couldn’t even come to a small village in the middle of nowhere with an assumed name.

  Delaney kicked a chair toward him. “Sit. You will hear me out.”

  Aidan took a seat, facing the man. “Have you been following me
?”

  “Aye. A bit. Wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  Aidan scoffed. “As if you care for my well-being.”

  “Listen up, my pretty pup. The world doesn’t revolve around you. Or that damned marquess. Sutherhorne attended one of my fights. You see, he likes inflicting pain on men as much as he likes watching it. He offered to hire me as his protector. An object of his amusement, more like. I needed the coin. Not much to be made on illegal bare-knuckle fighting—at least, not for the fighter.”

  “Am I to feel sorry for you?”

  “No. I’ll bet you feel plenty sorry for yourself to have any sympathy left for me. But let me finish, and don’t interrupt again.”

  Aidan shrugged, stinging from the brute’s rebuke. The man was not wrong.

  “I attended more than one of those toff parties; I know what goes on. When you were brought out for the auction, I figured you were a male prossie like all the rest, regardless of what they claimed. You hardly looked the part of an heir to an earl. You were a right mess.”

  Again, the man was not wrong. Aidan remained silent.

  “Sutherhorne and I took you to a room, and I found out soon enough you weren’t a prossie at all.”

  “What is your damned point? I am not going to sit here and have you describe in detail what happened between us. I don’t remember most of it, and I would prefer to keep it that way. And you still haven’t said why you have been following me. It’s more than being concerned.”

  “You’re interrupting,” Delaney growled. “And don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it. You responded.”

  “I would have responded to anyone touching me, regardless of age or gender. I was out of my head, in a drug-addled fog. Now you listen to me: I am not horrified by what physical acts two consenting men get up to. I attended Eton and Cambridge. I’ve seen plenty, though I did not seek it out personally. What I am horrified by is the fact that I sold myself for money to buy opium. As I said, you were a means to an end, nothing else. If you have formed an attachment to me from our one brief encounter, the sentiment is not returned, nor shall it ever be.” Aidan figured it had to be said.