by Cheryl Holt
He’d made the tough choices on Lord Stafford’s behalf. He’d done all the dirty work, and now—thanks to Emeline’s interference—the earl was unraveling many of Benedict’s best ideas.
He was in a temper and had to figure out how to wean the earl away from Emeline’s destructive influence. Hopefully, a bit of eavesdropping would provide some clues as to how Benedict should proceed.
The two brothers were silent, one of them stomping around then, to Benedict’s eternal astonishment, the conversation began and the immediate topic was Emeline.
You might as well confess, Lt. Price demanded, and don’t lie to me.
I wouldn’t dream of it, the earl snidely replied.
What have you done?
I’ve started an affair.
Have you deflowered her, you wretch?
A gentleman should never kiss and tell.
Benedict staggered away, hurrying down the deserted corridors until he lurched into an empty parlor. Panting with shock, he leaned against the wall to steady himself.
Widow Brookhurst’s suspicions had been correct. Emeline was a whore, swayed to harlotry by the worst scoundrel in England!
Benedict had previously tendered a decent, honest marriage proposal to Emeline, but for the price of a few dresses, she’d rather prostitute herself to Nicholas Price.
The news was murderously offensive and beyond his comprehension.
He didn’t know how he would use the information—the vicar certainly had to be apprised—but he would exploit it to her detriment. He would bide his time; he would watch and wait.
Nicholas Price wouldn’t be at Stafford forever. He would leave very soon. Perhaps by tomorrow or the next day. Once he was gone, Emeline’s fate would be sealed.
“What will happen to us?”
“I have no idea, but I’m sure it will be something grand.”
Emeline tucked the blanket over Nan, then turned to the other bed and did the same for Nell.
“You received a letter today,” Nell said.
“How would you know that, you little scamp?”
“We were spying on Mr. Jenkins,” she admitted, unabashed. “Who was it from? Was it from another school?”
“Yes.”
“Was it good news?”
“Not this time. They’ve hired someone else, but I’m certain a positive response will arrive very soon.”
She kept her smile firmly fixed so the twins wouldn’t note her anxiety. She’d applied for dozens of jobs, but she had no experience and two sisters to bring along to any situation. Employers weren’t eager to retain people with such large burdens.
She was waiting for one last reply, but she wasn’t optimistic.
“What about Lord Stafford?” Nan asked. “Why won’t he let you start the school here? He seems so nice. I don’t understand why he won’t agree.”
“He’s still considering it,” Emeline lied.
“Guess what we think,” Nell said, and they both giggled.
“What?” Emeline inquired.
“You and the earl should get married.”
“Get married!”
“If you were his wife, it would solve all our problems, wouldn’t it?”
“We’re not marrying, so you can shove that silly notion out of your busy heads.”
“You like him,” Nan pointed out, “and we like him too.”
“And we can tell he likes you,” Nell added.
“We’re friends,” Emeline sternly insisted, “and I work for him. There’s no more to it than that, and you shouldn’t expect there might be.”
“If you say so.” Nan’s comment set off a second round of giggles.
“I do say so, and I won’t have the two of you talking about this. If any of the servants heard you, I’d be extremely embarrassed.”
The last thing she needed was her sisters constructing a fairytale. She’d given Nicholas plenty of chances to answer Nan’s original question—what will happen to us—but he wasn’t inclined to make a decision. Then again, he hadn’t tossed them out either.
It was a frustrating limbo, and she’d been annoyingly timid about pushing him for a resolution. Life in the manor was so easy, and she’d quickly acclimated. She didn’t want her circumstances to change, for it would mean he was tired of her. If she lost his favor, he would put her aside and move on, and she’d never be with him again.
“Sleep now,” she murmured.
She blew out the candle and proceeded to her room. She walked slowly, wondering if she might bump into him on the stairs, but she didn’t.
Since their afternoon visiting, she hadn’t seen him. A servant had mentioned that he’d ridden off on his horse, but Emeline couldn’t pry as to why he’d left or where he’d gone. She could only wait for him to return.
Dawdling, she prepared for bed, washing up, brushing her hair, dressing in the robe he’d bought her. She went to the windowseat and snuggled on the cushion. She stared out across the park, praying the roads would convey him home safely.
An eternity passed before boot steps sounded off in the distance. She sagged with relief and pressed her fingers to the cool glass of the window. Peering out at the stars, she whispered frantic wishes: that he was hale and unharmed, that he wouldn’t hurt her when their affair was concluded, that she would survive in the world as it would be after he departed forever.
He came closer and closer, and with each stride, her fears lessened. Why had she so calmly accepted that there was no future for them?
She was an optimist who tackled problems and vowed to fix them. Why was she so willing to concede a bad end? Why should she automatically assume that they would separate?
Yes, he was an earl and far above her in station, but he hadn’t always been. Until the prior year, he’d been an orphan whose sole prospect was his rank in the army. A stroke of fate had elevated him, but deep inside, he was an ordinary man.
They could wed. They could build a life together at Stafford.
Suddenly, her pulse was racing with excitement, and she told herself that she would do whatever he asked to bring about the finale she craved.
He stopped at her door, but didn’t enter. For the longest while, he hovered in the hall, as if debating whether to come in. He tarried until she grew afraid that he’d keep on, so she clambered to the floor, hurried over, and spun the knob herself.
They gazed at each other, not speaking, a thousand words swirling between them that couldn’t be voiced aloud. His color was high, his hair tousled by the wind. Masculine smells of horses and cold night air wafted from his clothes.
There was a bleakness in his eyes that made them especially blue. The cocky, conceited soldier had vanished, replaced by a troubled, weary soul.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Nodding, he stepped into the room and enfolded her in his arms. He crushed her to his chest, holding her as if he might never release her.
“I missed you,” she said.
“You shouldn’t have.”
“When I learned that you’d left the estate, that you were riding around in the dark, I was so worried.”
“You should never fret about me. I’m always fine. I always land on my feet.”
He drew away and took her hands in his. They stood, swaying, like besotted adolescents.
“Where did you go?” she asked.
“Nowhere in particular.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I just have a lot on my mind. I had to clear it.”
“Have you cleared it?”
“More or less.”
“Tell me what vexes you. Maybe I can help.”
“You vex me.”
“I hope in a good way?”
“Yes, in a very good way.”
He shrugged out of his coat and dropped it on a ne
arby chair, then he walked to her bedchamber, leading her behind him. He lay down on the bed and stretched out, and he pulled her down with him. She nestled at his side, as he studied the ceiling, lost in thought.
His distress was palpable, but he didn’t seem able to discuss what was bothering him. Apparently, she would have to begin any conversation.
“What are you thinking about?” she inquired.
“You.”
She propped herself up on an elbow. “What about me?”
He traced a finger across her bottom lip. “I’m glad we met.”
“So am I.”
“I’ll always be glad.”
“I will be too.”
His tone had her heart racing again, but not with elation. He was assessing her as if memorizing her features, as if cataloguing them for later reflection.
“I have to return to London soon,” he told her.
“Why?”
“I never intended to be here this long. I’m due back with my regiment.”
“Will you travel to Stafford occasionally in the future?”
There was a lengthy pause, then he said, “I will as often as I can.”
“Will we still be”—she struggled to find the correct word—“friends?”
“Absolutely.”
“What about me and my sisters? What will become of us?”
Another protracted pause ensued, and ultimately, he asked, “Would you ever consider coming to London with me?”
“To London?” She laughed and shook her head. “No. Why couldn’t you stay at Stafford with me?”
“It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not. It’s very, very simple.” She rested a hand on his cheek. “When you first arrived at the estate, you had misgivings, but they’re fading. You’re changing; you’re starting to enjoy your ownership.”
“I suppose I am.”
“I don’t want you to go away.” She tossed the dice, risking all. “I want you to remain here. With me.”
“You’d like that, would you?”
“You would too. Please don’t deny it. You’ve never had a home of your own. This could be your home. We could marry, and we would be so happy.”
He chuckled, but sadly. “You have such a high opinion of me.”
“You deserve it! You’re wonderful, but you spend all your time trying to be awful. I see the special man hiding beneath all the bluster. You could be that man for me. I know you could.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy. You could muster out of the army. You could come home. To Stafford. To me.”
“What would I do with you?” He smiled. “I’m not used to living around a female. You’d drive me insane with all your chatter.”
“You like me a tad more than you care to admit.”
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “You could be right about that.”
“Is it because you’re an earl now? Is that it? You’re too far above me?”
“Gad, no. You’re very fine, too fine for the likes of me.”
She received some solace from the compliment. “Then what is it? Why are you so disconcerted?”
“I shouldn’t have visited you tonight, but I couldn’t keep myself away.”
“Of course you should have visited. If you don’t belong here with me, where do you belong?”
He stared and stared, and she thought he might confide in her, but instead, he kissed her. He rolled her onto her back, his heavy body pressing her into the mattress. She pulled him closer, but she couldn’t get him near enough.
She wanted to be so securely connected that there would be no distance between them, that they would be one person rather than two, but she had no idea how to accomplish it.
He seemed to be on a frantic quest as well. There was an air of desperation about him, as if he was drowning and in need of her rescue. She would gladly save him; she just didn’t understand the dangers so she couldn’t devise the best method.
He fumbled with the belt on her robe, and very quickly, she was naked. She didn’t try to stop him, didn’t complain or demur. There was such joy in pleasing him.
His fingers were busy, and swiftly, she was titillated to the point of madness. But this time, she yearned for more from him than he’d given her previously.
“I love you.” She hadn’t meant for the declaration to slip out, but she couldn’t hold it in.
“You shouldn’t tell me that.”
“Why not? It’s true. You know it is.” He was nibbling at her breast, and she dragged him to her so he had to look her in the eye. “Have you ever been loved, Nicholas?”
“No, never.”
“Then let me be the one.”
He sighed. “You shouldn’t have these strong feelings. Believe me. I’m not worth it.”
“Yes, you are! How can I convince you?”
“I’m not who you presume I am.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“What do you know about anything? You’re a man, so you’re a fool.”
He snorted. “I’m sure you’re correct.”
“Shower me with your affection. Let it all rain down on me. Whatever you ask, whatever you need, I’ll give it to you.”
He studied her, his torment clear. It was obvious that a huge debate was raging in his mind. Finally, he nodded, as if he’d reached a decision.
“I want to be happy, Em,” he said. “I want you to make me happy.”
“I will, you silly oaf.”
“For once, I’ll forge ahead and damn the consequences.”
Nicholas gazed at Emeline. Had those words actually come out of his mouth? Would he proceed to the worst conclusion of all?
Apparently, he would.
After his quarrel with Stephen, he’d spent hours riding the back roads, pushing his horse to the limit. He’d rein in at roadside inns, to drink and brood, then canter on. He’d been in a fine state, pining for things he couldn’t name, things he couldn’t have.
Emeline had wormed herself into his life, to a spot where he couldn’t imagine her gone from it. She belonged to him and with him, and the notion of fleeing and leaving her behind as Stephen had demanded was too bizarre to consider.
Yet Stephen was right. She deserved more than a sordid alliance. Any relationship was idiotic and impossible, and he should never have permitted his fondness to simmer to a boil. He’d known better, but he’d selfishly done it anyway.
He’d allowed Emeline to become important to him, and he couldn’t comprehend why. Lust was spurring his fascination, and if they copulated a time or two, he was positive his infatuation would sizzle out. In his sexual affairs, it was always the same story. Like a dog at the hunt, he chased his prey until he caught it, but the moment the pursuit was ended, he lost interest.
He would cede to Stephen’s blackmail and return to London in the morning. But he couldn’t go without learning what it was like to have her in the only way that mattered.
He began kissing her and kissing her, driving her up the spiral of desire. He toyed with her breasts, with her nipples, as his naughty fingers slithered into her sheath.
It was an easy task, bringing her to orgasm. She soared to the heavens, then floated back down, and she was chuckling, sputtering with delight.
Her joy was infectious. He was laughing too, reveling in her pleasure, and for once, he would join her in it. He’d denied himself, and his restraint had put him on an odd path of regret and reflection that he hated.
As she calmed and stilled, he was unbuttoning his trousers.
“I can’t believe I keep letting you do that to me,” she said.
“Deep down, you’re a wanton. You love it when I arouse you, and carnal play is like an addictive drug. The more we indulge, the more you’ll cra
ve.”
“Are you saying you’re irresistible?”
“That’s precisely what I’m saying.”
“Is that why you’re grinning like the cat that ate the canary?”
“Yes. I’m thrilled to have uncovered your true nature.”
“Vain beast.”
“Yes, I am. I definitely am.”
They quieted, his features sobering, and she cocked her head, evaluating him as if she could see all the way to his black heart.
“You look so sad,” she said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m not sad. I just need something from you.”
“What is it?”
“Remember when we first started all this?”
“As if I could forget.”
“I told you there was more to it.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I want to show you the rest.”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking of me.”
“I want to join my body to yours, as a husband does with his wife.”
He touched her between her legs, indicating his goal, but short of actually proceeding, she could never understand.
“Explain to me what will occur.”
“It’s simpler if I demonstrate.”
“You said it’s what a husband ‘does with his wife’. How can we if we’re not married?”
“It’s merely physical conduct. You don’t have to be wed.”
“It’s wrong if we’re not.”
He shrugged. “Some people insist that it is.”
“Not you?”
“No, not me.” He kissed her, sweetly, tenderly. “I want this, Em. So much. I’m desperate to know you like this.”
“You make it so hard to say no.”
“Then don’t.”
“I want you to be happy. I’m just afraid.”
“Of what?”
“If I agree, it will mean everything to me, but it should mean something to you too. I’m afraid that it won’t.”
“Oh, Em, it’s the greatest gift you could ever bestow.”
She hesitated, and he could see that he was wearing her down, that she was anxious to relent.
Ultimately, she nodded. “Yes, Nicholas, whatever you need, I’m glad to give it to you.”