Lured Into Sin By The Wicked Earl (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Olivia Bennet

  “I can’t leave,” Susannah repeated. “I can’t leave him.” The realization that she couldn’t go was devastating. She burst into tears at the impossibility of the whole situation. Lucy wrapped her arms around her, patting her back soothingly as she sobbed.

  “Everyone’s been talking,” Lucy said. “I told them that they were spreading rumors, and that none of it was true.”

  “What are they saying?” As if things weren’t already bad. She knew that it was Mr. Fort, the valet. He was the worst gossip in the household. He noticed everything that went on.

  “Mr. Fort said that you and Lord Malmore spend so much time alone every night. He was suggesting what you might actually be up to,” Lucy said. “That Lord Malmore looks at you in a certain way. It is clear that he fancies you.”

  “But Mr. Fort is right,” Susannah cried. “It’s all true.”

  “Have you—” Lucy trailed off, her eyes widening.

  “No. It’s not gotten that far.” Susannah shook her head, wiped at her damp cheeks with her hands. She couldn’t mention the kiss. That was a secret, between her and Lord Malmore. She wouldn’t ruin it by telling anyone. It was the only thing that they could ever—would ever share. It had been a perfect moment, shattered by her own fear.

  Lucy nodded. “It would be best if you stayed away from him,” she said. “Nothing good can ever come of these feelings. I’ve told you what happens. It never ends well for the maid. Nothing ever happens to the gentleman.”

  But Susannah knew that she couldn’t do it. She would never be able to leave this house and her job. It would mean never seeing Lord Malmore again. She couldn’t bear the thought of it. Nor could she bear being in the house and not having him. She was stuck—fixed like a butterfly on a pin. Her entire future was in his hands.

  “I’ve completely lost my mind, Lucy. I think…I think I’m in love. There’s no other word for this.” Her words and tears were coming out in a violent torrent. She clutched Lucy’s hand, beseechingly. “You don’t have to worry. He’s promised not to touch me. He says that I’ll always have my job, even if I never speak to him again.”

  “Susannah, you can’t be serious. You need to find work, elsewhere,” Lucy insisted. “Remember what I’ve told you. You have your reputation to consider. Lord Malmore will lose nothing. You could lose everything.”

  “There’s nowhere else. I have to stay.” Susannah knew that there was only one way forward. She didn’t want to say it.

  Lucy studied her, a certain amount of resignation on her face. “Is there nothing that I can say to convince you?”

  Susannah shook her head. “No, nothing.” She was filled with a grim resolution. She would stay. She couldn’t become his mistress. But she would stay. Because the thought of leaving him, forever, was worse.

  Lucy sighed, nodding slowly. “Well, I suppose we should get to sleep. We’ve got a long day tomorrow, and it’s late.” She touched Susannah’s cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ll think of something, I promise.”

  Susannah lay back in her bed, while Lucy crossed to her own, blowing out the candle as she passed it. They both lay there in silence, neither one of them sleeping.

  Susannah regretted telling her friend. It had only made things worse. Lucy had seemed disappointed. She had wanted Susannah to do the one thing that she couldn’t. What was worse, it seemed like Lucy blamed herself.

  It’s an impossible situation. It’s my recompense for torturing my mother and lying about my parents being dead. I deserve this, I suppose.

  Susannah lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Lucy’s breathing slowed as she fell asleep. In the darkness, she wondered what Lord Malmore was doing, then. He was likely asleep in bed, tucked beneath the sheets that Susannah herself had lovingly tugged into place.

  * * *

  The moment that Adam set foot inside of the warehouse that housed the Windham Tobacco Company, he could smell the scent of fresh tobacco leaves. The whole building was redolent with the sweet smell. It was busy inside; the sounds of workers talking among themselves permeated the air.

  Underneath his arm, he carried a wooden crate with the device nestled inside, wrapped in cotton. He wanted it to be tested there at the factory for a week. After that, he meant for the warehouse handymen to make copies of the machine, which would then be used by the manufacturing workers.

  It was a busy bustle of men, all of them hard at work. He could hear them talking happily among themselves. It was a nice, clean workplace, with large, high windows to let the afternoon light in. Adam had made sure that it was a good place to work—not all dark and dismal, like some of the other facilities nearby.

  He let himself into the main offices, where Mr. Hunt and Mr. Blanville, the two men who ran things for Adam were seated at their desks. They both looked up. When they saw him, they both stood up and bowed to him.

  “Lord Malmore! What brings you in, today?” Mr. Hunt asked. He was a jovial fellow who always dressed in plain colors—navy blue and cream. His golden-brown hair was combed neatly. He smiled easily.

  “It’s good to see you, My Lord,” Mr. Blanville added. He had a tendency to dress more flamboyantly. He wore a dark-green frock coat, with a red, gray, and green-plaid waistcoat underneath. He was of a gruffer demeanor than Mr. Hunt. Adam would have trusted both of them with his life. They always saw to it that he had nothing to worry about when it came to the running of Windham Tobacco.

  “Good to see you both,” Adam replied. “I just came in to see how things are going, and to let you know of some news.” He set the crate down on Mr. Hunt’s desk as it was less cluttered than Mr. Blanville’s.

  “Have a seat, My Lord,” Mr. Hunt said, bringing out a ledger. “As you can see, production is going well.”

  Adam sat down in the chair across from the both of them, crossing his legs. He was, quite simply, at his leisure. He had been looking forward to this day, when he could finally begin to implement his invention.

  “And sales are up,” Mr. Blanville added, sliding another ledger in his direction.

  Adam perused the columns, seeing that things were, indeed going well. Mr. Hunt and Mr. Blanville were both trustworthy. They took care of the day-to-day operations of the business so Adam could focus on his inventions. He paid them handsomely, and they performed their duties with the utmost attention to every detail.

  Every week, they sent him a full report which told him what had transpired at Windham Tobacco.

  Adam stood, then opened the top of the box. Unwrapping the layers of cotton, he pulled out the device, setting it on the desk. Mr. Hunt placed his spectacles on his nose. Mr. Blanville frowned, peering intently at it. They both waited for him to explain it.

  “This is my newest invention,” he stated proudly. “I want you to implement it into the processing of the tobacco.”

  “You think it’ll speed up the process?” Mr. Blanville asked, watching as Adam demonstrated its use. It made a bit of a squeaking sound as he pressed the lever.

  “The unprocessed leaves go in there, and then this will cut them up into smaller pieces,” he explained, pointing. “It should speed up production exponentially.” At the present time, it had been done by hand, a process which was slow and tedious.

  “It should. I want everyone involved to be sworn to secrecy,” Adam went on. “This is to be a company secret.”

  “You’re not going to share it with the public?” Mr. Hunt asked, although he didn’t sound at all perturbed about it. Instead, he sounded excited.

  “Not at the current time,” Adam replied. “Maybe not ever.” He was thinking of Mr. Sullyard with a sense of triumph. Adam was sure that it would work.

  “Leave it to us, Lord Malmore,” Mr. Blanville said. “Our lips are sealed.”

  “I was hoping that you’d say that.”

  “We pay our workers well, so the secret’s safe here.” Mr. Hunt smiled proudly. That was the best thing about the two men who sat before Adam. They agreed with him about everythin
g. When Adam had told them that he wanted to run a business where employees were happy to work, they agreed wholeheartedly.

  “Good. I’d like a regular report,” Adam said, rubbing his hands together. “So I know how successful it is.”

  “Of course, of course. We’ll have a full report delivered to your home at the end of the week,” Mr. Blanville promised.

  “Perfect,” Adam replied. “I will expect you both on Friday. Well,” he said, as he stood up, bowing to them. “As always, it’s been a pleasure.”

  “Likewise, My Lord. We look forward to using the new device,” Mr. Hunt said, he was looking at it with interest. “We’ll get the testing started immediately.”

  Adam placed his hat on top of his head and left. Everything was all in hand. He had nothing more to do, at least for a while. He anticipated that there would be small changes necessary for the continuous use of the device. But those wouldn’t come about until it had been in constant use.

  Adam made his way back out and onto the street where the sun was lowering. He was immensely excited. For the first time in years, as he looked around, the world felt full of possibility. Even in the thick London air, he felt as though he were breathing easier than he had in ages.

  This is what it’s like to feel successful.

  It had been years since his last success. He walked toward his carriage. There was only one place that he wanted to be—at home, near Susannah. But he had promised her that he would leave her be, so that she could consider what he’d said. He didn’t want to force her into a decision.

  “Take me to my club, Mr. Banks,” he ordered.

  “Very good, My Lord,” his coachman said.

  Adam climbed inside, shutting the door after him. He was a gentleman of his word. He would do as all gentlemen did, when they were heartbroken—drink their troubles away.

  Chapter 19

  Susannah and Lucy did their work in tense silence. They were in Lord Malmore’s bed chamber, changing the sheets. The familiar scent of him rose in the air. Susannah’s eyes were watering, her throat was tight, and she swallowed back the painful lump. She had seen him going out earlier.

  Susannah had been tidying the parlor. She’d peered through the window, watching him climb into the carriage. She’d relaxed, a little, knowing there was no risk of running into him by mistake.

  Lucy, meanwhile, was grim, and she moved about Lord Malmore’s bedchamber briskly. Susannah knew that her friend was angry, and she knew that it was her own fault.

  “I’m sorry, Lucy,” she said, keeping her voice very low, so that anyone passing by wouldn’t overhear. She couldn’t bear having Lucy upset, and she wanted to clear things up—to take responsibility.

  “It’s not you,” Lucy replied flatly. “I’m angry with myself.”

  “Why? It’s my fault. I made the decisions, the ones that have brought me to this point.” That was all that she could say. It hadn’t been Lucy who had been in the kitchen so late. Or leaned in, not only allowing Lord Malmore to kiss her, but had kissed him back, as well. Her cheeks reddened as she remembered the touch of his lips, and how she’d enjoyed it.

  “I brought you here,” Lucy explained. “I put you in this situation, when I knew the dangers.” She tossed the pillows onto the head of the bed with a bit of ferocity.

  “So, it’s not my fault at all?” Susannah shook her head bitterly. “Trust me, this is my fault.” She tugged on the duvet, so that it was perfectly flat over the bed. She smoothed her hand over the soft dark red velvet.

  “How could you have known?” Lucy asked as she stuffed the Earl’s sheets into the basket. “He’s handsome to you. I imagine he’s kind to you. You have no experience with gentlemen like him. You have no experience with gentlemen at all.”

  Susannah felt that this was unfair. “I’m not some stupid country girl,” she muttered, stung by Lucy’s comment.

  Lucy fixed her with an unhappy glare. “Could have fooled me.”

  Susannah felt as though she’d been struck. She stared at her friend, blinking in shock. Her mouth fell open. Lucy stared back at her, entirely unrepentant.

  “I warned you to be smart,” Lucy told her, picking up the basket with the dirty bedding in it. “To keep your wits about you. Now, you’ve gone off and are declaring yourself in love.” She shook her head, sadly.

  “How can you say that to me?” Susannah demanded.

  “They’re all talking,” Lucy said, waving with her free hand, in the direction of the rest of the house. “Everyone else in the household. They’ve been saying that you look at him all doe eyed. They were saying that his eyes go all dewy when he looks at you. They’ve even been saying that your special cleaning duties in his lab every night are merely an excuse, so that the two of you can have some alone time together. Someone even said they saw the two of you, standing out in the garden together, alone.”

  Susannah’s mouth dropped open. She’d thought that they were hidden, out by the pond. That, too, had been a private moment. That it had been seen and discussed was like an arrow to her heart. Lucy tilted her head to the side.

  “I was the one who stood up for you. I told them that they shouldn’t talk about you like that,” she said. “I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

  A tear escaped Susannah’s eye. Lucy, seeing it, nodded.

  “You can’t even deny it, can you?” Disappointment was evident in Lucy’s unhappy frown. “I can’t believe that Mr. Fort was right.”

  Susannah shook her head. “I can’t deny it,” she said, wiping at her cheeks with both of her hands. She hated that she was crying. Everything seemed hopeless. She knew how Mr. Fort was always saying nasty things.

  “I tell you what,” Lucy said, her tone softening. “You go have your cry in our room. I’ll finish up here.”

  “Thank you,” Susannah whispered.

  She left the room. She couldn’t believe it. Things were worse than she’d thought. She didn’t go to her room. She went out into the garden, running until she reached the pond. She hugged herself, as she watched her reflection in the pond surface. Usually, Lord Malmore showed up, as if he’d been conjured, merely by her thinking of him.

  She stood there waiting to see if he would come. She wanted him to. He would talk to her, make her feel better. The longer she stood there waiting for him, the more she realized that he could never be hers. He had promised her that if she wanted, he would leave her alone. It was even worse, in a way, that he had made that promise. It meant that he could give her up.

  He’s not coming. He’s going to find a new lady, and then, I’ll have to watch as they fall in love and live the life that I could never have. I’m a simple, stupid country girl. I could never belong here.

  As she watched, rain began to fall. Gently, the drops hit the surface of the water. She turned and ran back to the house. As she reached the door, the rain grew stronger, drumming on the roof. She stood just inside the door, watching as it fell in thick sheets.

  * * *

  The rain was falling, the drops drumming on the carriage roof like fingers, tapping insistently, as if the rain was trying to get Adam’s attention. He felt warm and dry in his carriage. He felt bad for Mr. Banks, who had to sit up on the driver’s seat, hunched over like a blackbird in his cloak.

  His mind was filled with thoughts of Susannah. He wanted to allow her time and space to consider things. To think about the two of them and what she wanted. He figured that would be good for her. He would approach her in the lab, and then gently see if reflection had allowed her to reach the same conclusion that he had—that they belonged together.

  When he arrived at the club, he entered, walking briskly from the carriage through the front door. He looked around as he removed his top hat. This late in the afternoon and early in the evening, there were few gentlemen there.

  He walked to the bar, where he ordered a glass of brandy, with a bowl of walnuts. Then Adam walked over to an empty table in the corner. He sat, looking around at the few other gentlemen. He knew the
m only by reputation. There was no one of his acquaintance there, which was a relief. He wasn’t in the mood to talk.

  The barkeep came over with his order, setting the drink and the bowl of nuts in front of him.

  “Thank you,” Adam murmured.

  “Anything else?” the barkeep asked dutifully. He was neatly dressed, his hair slicked to the side. He’d slung a towel over his arm, on the off chance that there was an errant spill.

  “No.”

  “Very good, My Lord.” With that, the barkeep vanished into the dim, smoky atmosphere of the club.

  Adam ate a few of the walnuts, then took a sip of his drink. He took in his surroundings. In the corner, a pianist played a soft, tinkling tune. There were a few scattered conversations. He allowed his mind to wander. Now that the device was in Mr. Hunt’s and Mr. Blanville’s hands, he had nothing to occupy his mind other than Susannah.