The Bachelor Earl

by Burke, Darcy

  There were many verbal responses as well as a few barks of laughter.

  “What if I pick Lord Audlington?” Sir Godwin asked.

  Lady Cosford pivoted toward Sir Godwin. “You may kiss him however you like—there are no rules as to the type of kiss.” She gave him a saucy smile.

  Sir Godwin cocked his head. “How about as soon as I realize I’ve found a gentleman, I purposely lose so I can try again?” More of the guests laughed.

  “That is entirely your prerogative,” Lady Cosford said. “You may also choose to watch instead of play.”

  “I’ll be watching,” Eugenia said. And with that, Edmund’s hopes were completely dashed.

  Mr. Sterling nodded beside her. “I will too.” Then he escorted Lady Kendal to a grouping of chairs nearby.

  Edmund stared at them as they sat, close together, their heads bent toward each other. He wanted to sit out too. But before he could get his words past the jealousy burning through him, Lady Cosford announced it was time to start, and she would choose the first name.

  After reaching into a bowl, she withdrew a small piece of parchment and unfolded it. “Lord Satterfield!”

  Damn. Now he was stuck.

  Lord Cosford came toward him with the blindfold. Edmund had to bend his knees so his host could tie the fabric around his eyes. The last thing he saw before everything went black was Eugenia, her hands folded atop her lap, her head turned toward Sterling, a smile lifting her mouth.

  What would happen if Edmund managed to choose her anyway? He silently prayed he’d be able to find a way to see so he could make his way to her chair.

  “All right, then?” Cosford asked.

  Edmund straightened. He couldn’t see a bloody thing. “Yes.” The word sounded terse, even to his own ears.

  Cosford put his hands on Edmund’s biceps and began to turn him about. “Goodness, Satterfield, what sort of exercise are you doing? Your arms are quite muscular!” He laughed as if Edmund’s fitness were some sort of jest.

  “You only say that because you’re skinny as a pole!” someone called. This was met with great laughter.

  As Edmund spun about, his equilibrium began to tilt. By the time he stopped, he had no notion of which direction led to Eugenia. He muttered a curse.

  “What’s that?” Cosford asked.

  “I’m bloody dizzy,” Edmund said, feeling grouchy. He wanted to get this over with. Then he could decide to sit out and insert himself between Eugenia and Sterling.

  “As you should be!”

  Edmund didn’t recognize who yelled that, nor the laughter that followed. His shoulders were bunched with tension. He forced himself to take a breath and loosen his muscles.

  Relax, Edmund. Enjoy yourself. You’re here to perhaps find a wife. It doesn’t have to be Eugenia. You didn’t even know she’d be here.

  While that was true, he couldn’t help the fact that now he did. And every other woman in attendance was lacking in comparison.

  When the floor felt stable beneath Edmund’s feet once more, he began to move. Putting his arms out, he felt his way. A quick giggle said he’d come close to a lady. He pivoted and took two large steps. His fingers closed on fabric.

  “I have you!” He moved closer and splayed his hand against whomever he’d encountered. He was certain he touched a sleeve. Gliding his palm down, he felt the edge and then flesh. Yes, it was a woman.

  He tried to think of who had a gown like that. Better still, he tried to think of the woman’s height and who it could match. Pity he hadn’t found Lady Bradford—her shorter stature would have given her away for certain.

  Edging closer, Edmund moved his hand up the woman’s sleeve to her shoulder to determine if this was her back or front. Wrapping his fingers around her collarbone, he slid his hand up to her neck. His fingertips grazed hair at the back—her nape, then. He was facing her. What about her could tell him her identity? He really didn’t want to do this more than once. And how did he plan to kiss her?

  Hell, all he wanted to do was kiss Eugenia. And not in a ballroom in front of other people. He wanted her alone, preferably in a bedchamber and preferably nude. As his cock twitched, he silently lectured himself to stop thinking of her.

  Moving his hand to the front of the mystery woman, he found a brooch pinned to where her fichu met the neckline of her gown. He smiled, for he’d just seen who had been wearing that. “Mrs. Makepeace.”

  “Remarkable!” a male voice said from nearby.

  “I’m correct, then?” Edmund lifted his hand to remove the blindfold.

  “Indeed you are, my lord,” Mrs. Makepeace said.

  Edmund untied the fabric at the back of his head and lowered the blindfold. Mrs. Makepeace gazed up at him, her lips parted. “What sort of kiss will you claim?” she asked, a gleam of flirtation in her hazel eyes.

  “What sort do you offer?”

  She took a small step so that they nearly touched. “Whatever pleases you.”

  Edmund looked past her toward where Eugenia sat. Her eyes were locked on Edmund. Her hands were still clasped, but more tightly than before.

  Almost without thinking, Edmund lowered his mouth to Mrs. Makepeace’s and touched his lips to hers. He didn’t stop looking at Eugenia, and so he caught the slight widening of her eyes and the faint blush that rose in her cheeks. Her lips parted, and Edmund wondered if her heart was beating as fast as his. How he wished the mouth he’d just kissed were hers.

  He straightened, and the dowager looked away. She lifted her hand to her throat, splaying her fingers just above the hollow as she visibly swallowed.

  “That was lovely,” Mrs. Makepeace whispered.

  “Yes, thank you,” Edmund responded. “Now, I believe it’s your turn.”

  “Perhaps I’ll find you,” she murmured, her eyes glinting coquettishly.

  “That would hardly be fair,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m going to sit this round out.” He found he was in desperate need of a drink. Thankfully, there were refreshments on a table near the dais.

  “First, let me tie the blindfold on you.” Edmund held up the fabric, and she turned around. He made quick work of securing it around her head. “How’s that?”

  “I can’t see a thing,” she said. “Do be careful when you spin me. I am sometimes clumsy.”

  “I shall do my best.” Edmund spun her more sedately than Cosford had done to him, then he took himself to the refreshment table.

  Almost immediately, Mrs. Makepeace found Mrs. Sheldon. “I can tell this is a woman,” Mrs. Makepeace said. “Can I just keep looking, please?”

  Laughter answered her question, then Lady Cosford said, “Yes, go ahead. Perhaps we should have the women move aside for now?”

  “What if I want to kiss Mrs. Makepeace?” Lady Clinton asked.

  “I say we let her,” Mr. Emerson said with a grin.

  Edmund shook his head and poured a glass of brandy. He wanted to go and sit next to Eugenia, but he didn’t. She didn’t look in his direction, not even for a moment. Was she angry that he’d participated in the silly game? She’d had some sort of reaction when she’d watched him kiss Makepeace. Maybe he shouldn’t have done it.

  Except he was here to perhaps find a wife. And kissing Mrs. Makepeace was part of the exercise. Or he’d done it to provoke Eugenia.

  Had it worked? He was damn sure going to find out.

  Chapter 5

  Following the ridiculous kissing blind man’s buff, the guests went a variety of directions. Some went to play billiards, while others played cards in the drawing room. Still others retired to their rooms—and Genie speculated that Lord Audlington and Mrs. Sheldon were not going upstairs for the purposes of finding rest. Their kiss during the game had gone on a trifle longer than was probably acceptable.

  Probably? Nothing about the game had been proper.

  Genie regretted not participating.

  Only because the moment Lord Satterfield’s lips had touched Mrs. Makepeace’s, Genie had wanted to scratch
the other woman’s eyes out. Then she wanted to push her to the floor and take her place.

  Her reaction had been swift, violent, and wholly unsettling. She asked herself again, what was happening to her?

  After stalking to the library, Genie found a book to read and took it to a small sitting room tucked into the corner of the ground floor far from the billiards and drawing rooms. She considered going up to her chamber, but Mrs. Sheldon’s room was next to hers, and Genie didn’t want to hear if she was having a rendezvous with Lord Audlington.

  The sitting room was cozy, with a view of the damp grounds littered with red and gold leaves being tossed about by the wind. The rain had stopped—at least for now—and a few beams of sunlight streaked through the gray clouds.

  She situated herself on a chaise, stretching her legs out on the cushion and crossing her ankles. Opening the book, she proceeded to stare at the first page and not read. She couldn’t stop thinking of Satterfield. Of his sensual lips, his piercing gaze, his muscular arms… Were they in fact muscular? She longed to find out for herself.

  Mrs. Makepeace would know how his lips had felt. Watching him kiss her had stirred emotions Genie hadn’t felt in some time, or maybe ever.

  Oh bother! Unlike everyone else at this party, she did not come here to find a husband, nor did she come to have an assignation. She certainly didn’t want to pursue either of those things with Lord Satterfield. She wasn’t ready.

  Tell that to your body.

  Satterfield was obviously angling for a liaison, at least. He’d been all too eager to participate in the stupid kissing game and to kiss Mrs. Makepeace on the mouth. He could just as easily have kissed her cheek. Better still, her hand.

  Scowling, Genie tried to focus on the page in her lap.

  “Good book?”

  She snapped the cover closed and leapt to her feet. It was him.

  “Did you follow me?”

  He sauntered into the sitting room, making the room feel even smaller than it had a few minutes before. “No.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “Looking for a moment’s peace,” he said amenably.

  “Well, you shan’t find it here.”

  He arched a brow. “Is that right?”

  She hadn’t meant that to sound argumentative, but now that she’d all but implied it, she squared her shoulders and didn’t refute him.

  “Should I go?” he asked.

  Yes. No. “We can share the room, certainly.”

  He took another step toward her, leaving just a few feet between them. “You seem angry.”

  “I’m not.” Except her face felt hot, and her body was aquiver. Why was she cross with him?

  One more step brought him even closer. And provoked the sensations in her body to a more feverish pitch. “Why didn’t you play blind man’s buff?”

  “I—” She didn’t really have a good answer. “I didn’t want to kiss anyone.” That wasn’t precisely true. She didn’t want to kiss anyone but him. Oh God, she wanted to kiss him?

  He took the final step that put him directly in front of her. She could lift her hands and determine the size of his biceps for herself.

  “That’s a pity,” he said softly. “I was devastated when you sat out.”

  Devastated? Genie’s lips parted as she fought to draw enough breath to support her racing pulse.

  “And then you sat down with Sterling, and I’m afraid I was rather jealous. That provoked me to behave in a childish manner. Is it too much for me to hope you were jealous too?”

  No, because she was. “I told you I wasn’t angry.”

  His eyes widened, and his nostrils flared slightly. Reveling in catching him off guard, Genie felt emboldened. Standing on her toes, she brought her hand up and curled it around his neck, drawing his head down. Then she touched her lips to his.

  With a soft groan, he wrapped his arms around her. She dropped the book to the floor and put her other hand on his bicep. Squeezing, she satisfied her curiosity as best as she could given the layers of his clothing. Oh yes, he was quite well formed.

  And his lips were divine. She’d almost forgotten how delightful a simple kiss could be, the way her body quickened and the flames of arousal began to flicker.

  He clasped her back and brought her flush against him. Angling his head, he licked his tongue along her lips. Genie opened for him, inviting his entry, sliding her tongue along his in a merry chase.

  Wild sensation careened through her. This seemed at once forbidden and desperately necessary. She shouldn’t want this. She couldn’t want this…not yet?

  She pulled her mouth from his and lowered her feet. Her breath came hard and fast. “I—it’s too soon.”

  “Is it?” He didn’t let her go. “Why?”

  “Because…” She had no answer. Again, she heard Jerome’s voice telling her to be happy. He would want her to do this. Still, she was conflicted. “It feels strange.”

  He took his hands from her. “I’m sorry to hear that. I think it feels rather wonderful.”

  She saw the flash of disappointment in his gaze, the struggle within him not to show her his hurt. “It’s not you,” she rushed to say. “I’m…drawn to you. I was jealous of you kissing Mrs. Makepeace.”

  “Would it help to know I was thinking of kissing you?”

  “Yes.” She ought to have been ashamed to admit it, but she was smiling instead.

  He took her hand. “Duchess.” He looked her in the eye. “Eugenia.”

  She ran her thumb along his hand. “Genie.”

  “Genie.” He said her name like a vocal caress, evoking a shiver along her shoulders. “I will go as slowly as you like. I am not interested in Mrs. Makepeace or anyone else.”

  Joy sparked inside her. She glanced down at their joined hands. Then she looked back up at him and put her palm against his cheek. “I didn’t come here to make a match. Or to have a liaison.”

  “I did. To perhaps make a match,” he clarified. “It’s probably time I take a wife, or so my mother has been telling me for the past decade.” He cracked a smile.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” She ran her thumb along his supple lower lip. “I am, however, ready for another kiss. Are you?”

  “More than.”

  She rose on her toes again as he swept her against him. His mouth crashed against hers. She plunged her fingers into his hair, cupping his head as she held on to him fiercely. His hands moved across her upper back and then lower, one of them clutching her backside.

  She pressed into him, her sex pulsing with need. Perhaps a liaison would be welcome…

  By the time they separated, they were both breathing hard. He rested his forehead against hers. “I didn’t close the door.”

  “Oh.” She should be scandalized, but she couldn’t muster even a modicum of horror or regret. She clutched his lapels and brushed her lips against his once more. “I’m going upstairs to get ready for dinner. Please don’t follow me. This is…lovely. It’s also more than I anticipated.”

  He nodded once. “I understand. I’m a patient man, Genie.”

  She looked up at him. “I’m not making any promises.”

  “And I have no expectations.” He smiled broadly. “Just all the hope in the world.”

  * * *

  After dinner that night, the women adjourned to the drawing room as usual. Genie took a chair situated with a small settee and another pair of chairs. Lady Bradford, Mrs. Grey, and Lady Clinton joined her as the other ladies gathered together near the fireplace.

  Genie knew Lady Bradford—Lettie—quite well and was somewhat acquainted with Mrs. Grey. She’d met Lady Clinton only a few times. Lady Clinton and Mrs. Grey sat together on the settee, while Lettie sat in a chair angled next to Genie’s.

  Lady Clinton, who was several years younger than Genie with dark red hair and wide brown eyes, glanced around at everyone in their circle. “Lady Cosford has done such a wonderful job with this party. I can’t believe it’s
almost half over. Do you think there is any chance she can make it last longer?”

  “You’re missing your children as much as I am?” Mrs. Grey asked sardonically. She was perhaps even younger than Lady Clinton, which made Genie realize she might very well be one of the oldest guests, if not the oldest. They both laughed, and Lettie joined in.

  Genie smiled but couldn’t bring herself to laugh with the others. She had no children of her own, not anymore. She had her stepson, Titus, of course, but he was well past the age of depending on her. Her daughter, Eliza, would be sixteen if she’d lived. Sometimes, Genie thought about the things they would be doing.

  “My apologies, Genie,” Lettie said warmly. She knew Genie had lost Eliza to illness at the age of three.

  “It’s all right. It is a nice party.” Nice. That word didn’t adequately describe Lord Satterfield’s kiss. Was she really going to continue to think of him as “Lord Satterfield” now? Did he go by Edmund or some other name?

  Mrs. Grey turned toward Genie, her blue eyes inquisitive. “Your Grace, why didn’t you play blind man’s buff earlier?”

  Genie considered telling her a fib—that she didn’t like to be blindfolded or she hated feeling dizzy. But instead, she was honest. “I’m not quite ready for a match.”

  “Kissing isn’t a match, especially at this party,” Lady Clinton said, adjusting her necklace so the amber cross rested just below the hollow of her throat. “Especially if it’s up to Sir Nathaniel to do the kissing.” She rolled her eyes as she referred to the way he’d kissed her upon finding and correctly guessing her identity. He’d pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand.

  Everyone laughed, and Mrs. Grey said in a whisper, “It could have been far worse. Mr. Howell could have tried to shove his tongue down your throat.”

  “I wondered if that’s what he was trying,” Lettie said, shaking her head.

  “I accidentally stepped on his foot. Hard.” Mrs. Grey smiled demurely. “Thankfully, he was wearing slippers instead of boots.”

  “I do understand your reticence,” Lady Clinton said. “I’m in no hurry to wed either. Twice may be quite enough.”