The Earl Takes All

by Lorraine Heath

  “That’s very kind of you, but I rather have my heart set on the pastries. I possess a bit of a sweet tooth.”

  The woman smiled winsomely, as though she and Julia shared a little secret, then she scowled, reached out and swatted her son’s backside. “Johnny, get off his lordship.”

  Like a little monkey, the lad scrambled down. Mrs. Lark’s face fell. “Oh, look what you did. You got dust all over his clothes. I’ll be happy to give ’em a good washing, Lord Greyling.”

  “Actually, Mrs. Lark, that’s part of the reason I’ve come today. I deduced by the lines strung up at the back of your house that you’re a washerwoman.”

  “Yes, m’lord. I’d be pleased and honored to do your laundry free of charge for an entire month to thank ye for taking care of us.”

  “Not necessary. However, we are in need of a washerwoman at Evermore. I wondered if you might be interested in the position.”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “You mean, working for you?”

  “For the estate, yes. The countess recently gave birth to a daughter, and as I understand it, the present laundress’s workload has increased somewhat. You would assist her, live within the residence, have three rooms available for you and your children. They would be tutored. Meals and clothing would be provided to your family. I’m also in need of a boot boy if Johnny is interested. You and he would both receive a salary.”

  She staggered back. “Caw! Blimey!”

  Julia wasn’t surprised by her reaction. Edward was offering them an incredible opportunity to better themselves. She realized while he may have wanted to assure himself that they were well on the road to recovery, his main purpose in coming here was to take further care of this widow and her children.

  “I’d be honored, m’lord.”

  “Very good. I’ll send a footman along Thursday next to assist you and the children in packing up and moving to Evermore, if that gives you enough time to prepare.”

  “Oh, it does indeed.” Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. “I didn’t know how we’d make it with my man gone. Can hardly afford the cottage and food.”

  “Well, now you no longer have to worry about it. I’d say a celebration is in order. What say Johnny accompany us to the tea shop for some meat pies?”

  “I like pastries,” Johnny announced.

  “Johnny, don’t be asking for things,” his mother admonished.

  “Nothing wrong in asking, Mrs. Lark,” Edward said. “Worse that’ll happen is that I’ll say no.” He winked at Johnny. “Then again, I might say yes. Come on, lad.”

  After grabbing the reins to their horses, Edward offered Julia his arm.

  “It was lovely to meet you, Mrs. Lark,” Julia said before placing her hand in the crook of Edward’s elbow.

  Johnny hopped on one foot, then the other, darting in front of her before settling in to walk beside Edward. “I can do more than polish your boots,” he assured Edward. “I can take care of your horses and your dogs, if you have dogs. Do you have dogs?”

  “We have some hunting dogs, yes.”

  “Don’t take care of cats, though. Don’t like cats.”

  “Think the cats pretty much take care of themselves. Would you rather work in the stables than in the manor?”

  The boy nodded feverishly. “Can I pet your horse?”

  “You may.”

  “If I work hard will you tell me some more stories?”

  She watched Edward’s profile as the corner of his mouth lifted. “I may very well indeed.”

  “I liked the weasel best.”

  Edward’s laughter echoed around them. “Yes, I imagined you would.”

  “Think he should have a sword, though.”

  Edward shifted his gaze to her. “What do you think, countess?”

  “I don’t know that I see him with a sword. A rapier, perhaps. Or maybe we need another character entirely.” Another one was beginning to take shape in her mind. “You shared the story with him.”

  “Seemed the best way to keep the children calm.”

  She wondered how many lords would have given two figs if the children were rambunctious. But then how many lords would have stayed with a recent widow and cared for her?

  She bid her time until they were sitting at the same table they’d sat at before, strawberry tarts and cups of tea in front of them. Before sending Johnny on his way, Edward had loaded him up with meat pies and enough various pastries to give the entire family a bellyache. “How did you come to know Mrs. Lark?” Julia asked.

  He shrugged. “Johnny was in here, trying to purchase a meat pie for his dying mum. He didn’t have enough money so I bought them, escorted him home, and discovered his mother was indeed ill.”

  “You remained to take care of them.”

  “Her husband had recently died. People are suspicious about death. Some believe it lingers, searching for another victim.”

  “But you don’t?”

  “There’s not a good deal that I fear. Losing my parents when I was so young caused me to become a bit reckless. Then, of course, living at Havisham where we were told that a ghost would snatch us up at night if we went outside made us all rather intrepid. You can only live in fear for so long before you say to hell with it.”

  “A method to the marquess’s madness?”

  “Possibly. I hadn’t considered that, but yes, I suppose it’s quite possible.”

  Sipping her tea, she considered his earlier actions. “Offering Mrs. Lark a place at Evermore was very generous.”

  “We can well afford to be generous.”

  It touched her that he included her in that statement, that he made her feel as though she had been generous as well when she had in fact had nothing at all to do with it.

  “I’m thinking you should publish your stories,” she said.

  “Only if you’re willing to include your watercolors.”

  She laughed, pleased and embarrassed by the notion. “They’re not that good.”

  “They’re very good. They bring my words to life. I wished I’d had them with me when I was recounting my tales to Johnny and his sisters.”

  She shook her head. “I never meant to share them with anyone other than my child.”

  Placing his elbows on the table, he leaned forward. “Why would you limit them to bringing only one child joy when they could bring happiness to so many?”

  “You never struck me as someone who cared so much about children.” Yet, she’d seen it in the attention he gave Allie and the camaraderie he’d developed with a young lad who had no qualms whatsoever in climbing over a lord of the realm.

  He grinned. “It’s a fault of having never grown up.”

  But he had grown up. She’d seen that as well. He was a caring landowner. He took care of people. He possessed a kindness that he’d kept hidden from her; yet it had been there all along when he tried to ensure that Albert never became aware of his feelings for Julia. When he’d allowed himself to be disparaged and disliked in order to protect her and Albert.

  “We would have to give the story a name,” she told him.

  “The Adventurous Friends of Havisham Hall.”

  She laughed. “We should probably disguise it a bit more.”

  “We’ll think on it, then.”

  It was as though they were planning a future. Whether or not they decided to spend their life together, they would have the stories, the books to connect them. They would have something that they had created together. But she doubted it would be enough to sustain her.

  She needed more.

  As they rode back toward Evermore, the words echoed with the plodding of her horse’s hooves. She needed more. Needed more.

  She needed the wind in her face, the freedom, the danger, the chase. Before he could caution her against it, she yelled, “I’ll race you to the top of the
distant rise,” and prompted her horse into a sprint.

  Without any doubt, she knew she was being reckless, but he seemed to call out that aspect of her. She’d spent her entire life striving to be the good daughter, the good cousin, the good wife. She regretted not a single moment of it, yet with him she felt no need to judge her actions before she acted. She experienced a certain independence that had never characterized her behavior before. Originally she’d credited it to changes within her while her husband was away, but she realized now it had more to do with Edward taking on a significant role in her life—­even before she realized he was Edward.

  She heard the pounding of his horse’s hooves and urged her own into a faster gallop. She felt young, happy, unburdened. For the first time in weeks, sorrow was not dogging her heels.

  His horse’s labored breathing sounding so very close signaled that he was catching up, but she was almost there. Just a bit farther. Then she crested the rise, drew her mare up short, spun around. Her laughter echoed through the copse of trees, up to the heavens and over the land surrounding her.

  He was grinning broadly as he brought his own beast to a stop. “Well done.”

  “I can’t remember the last time I rode with such abandon.”

  “We need to give the horses a rest.” He dismounted, walked over to her and held up his arms.

  His nearness still caused a fluttering in her belly, but her triumph overrode the sensations. She’d controlled her horse; she could control him. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she broke away from him and, with a teasing giggle, dashed over to a nearby tree. His deep laughter floated toward her, and she heard the thud of his footfalls.

  Whirling around, she pressed her back to the tree. “No touching, no kissing,” she ordered, knowing that with the barest of caresses she would find herself ceding control over to him.

  Before she was even aware of his intent, he was leaning in, his forearms raised and resting against the bark, his head bent, his cheek nearly but not quite touching hers. “Not touching,” he rasped, his raw voice sending a shiver of desire through her.

  “But if I were allowed to touch you,” he said on a seductive whisper, “I would begin with your gloves, slowly unbuttoning them before peeling them off, one at a time, stuffing them in the pocket of my jacket. I would press a kiss to the knuckles of your left hand, the palm of your right.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed as she imagined the heat of his mouth coating her skin in dew.

  “Then I would free two buttons of your bodice—­only two—­just enough so I could dip my tongue into the hollow at your throat.”

  Her breath grew shallow, heat surged through her.

  “I would lap at your skin, three times, four, before trailing my lips up to the underside of your jaw. I would inhale the rose fragrance tucked away behind your ear, and skim my mouth over your neck, from one side to the other and back to center.”

  “Edward—­”

  “Shh, I’m not done yet.”

  But she nearly was. She didn’t know how she continued to stand when her legs had become unsteady.

  “Two more buttons I would loosen; nay, three. I would slip one finger between the parted cloth and glide it slowly, lightly, provocatively over the swells of your breasts, aware of your sharp intake of breath as you lifted them higher, yearning for a surer caress, one that encompassed the whole of my hand reaching inside your corset, your chemise, to cup your entire breast—­”

  “Oh, my Lord,” she breathed out on a whisper.

  “—­my thumb and forefinger pinching the tight little bud of your nipple as it puckered for me.”

  She swallowed hard. She’d thought she was in control, but he had easily reversed their roles until she was little more than his puppet. Dampness formed between her thighs. Her nipples were not the only buds reaching for him, desperate for the pressure of his hand stirring sensations to life, eclipsing the fantasy with reality.

  “If I had leave to touch you—­”

  “Don’t,” she pleaded in a raw voice that sounded as though it belonged to another woman.

  “If I had leave to touch you, I would go to my knees and lift your skirt high, exposing the pink heart of your womanhood. I know it’s glistening with dampness at this very moment. Even without being able to touch you, I can feel the heat of passion radiating from you. I suspect your breasts are straining against the cloth, desperate for the caress you’re denying them. You’re throbbing between your thighs. My tongue could offer surcease, with just the right amount of pressure I could have you screaming.”

  Her eyes flew open. “You’re the very devil.”

  He laughed darkly. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “You know you’re not, damn you.”

  “I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you. You torment me. It’s only fair that I torment you.”

  “And once you’ve had me?”

  “I’ll want you again.”

  “How do you know?”

  Pushing back, he held her gaze. “Because I love you.”

  “What if it’s just that we were lost in the pretense?”

  “The pretense is gone now, yet still the emotions remain. Why do you doubt?”

  “Most are lucky to be loved once. Why should I be fortunate enough to be loved twice, to have happiness twice? I’m afraid fate will snatch it away if I reach for it again.”

  “So I’ll be denied because you don’t trust fate? Fate can go to the devil, Julia. Place your trust in me.”

  Reaching up, she brushed his hair back from his brow. Somewhere along the way he’d lost his hat. “A little more time, Edward.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I’m in no hurry. I want you with a desperation that threatens to unman me, but I want all of you, without guilt, without shadows, without ghosts. And for that I will wait with all the patience I can muster.”

  He understood her, comprehended why she struggled. She didn’t want to lose her past, but she had to let go of it in order to reach for a future with him. But always he would be inextricably tied to Albert. “I’m closer to saying goodbye to what was. I enjoy the time I spend with you. I’m glad for the opportunities to get to know you better. You’re not at all as I thought you were. You may be the least selfish person I’ve ever known.”

  “Don’t make me into a saint.”

  “Oh, I’m not so much taken with you that I would mistake you for anything other than the devilish sort. It’s only that I’m coming to realize I like the devilish sort.”

  Chapter 21

  Winter finally gave way to spring, the appearance of the first buds filling Edward with hope as he took his morning walk with Julia. They frequented the mausoleum less often. Sometimes they simply strolled past it. Some mornings, Julia indicated she wished to go in a different direction.

  While their time together remained relatively chaste, he wasn’t above trailing a finger along her exposed skin if the opportunity arose as they were going into dinner, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck as he leaned over to help her set up her billiards shot, bussing his lips over her cheek as he handed her brandy before they sat in front of the fire within his library.

  “Will you be riding out to see any tenants today?” she asked as the mausoleum came into view.

  “It’s too fine a day for that. I was thinking a picnic was in order.”

  “Let’s go this way,” she said, indicating a detour and a day that focused only on the present, not the past. “A picnic, then?”

  “Yes, I thought we should take Allie on her first one.”

  “She won’t remember it.”

  “But we will.”

  As usual, her hand was on his arm. She pressed up against his shoulder. “Oh, Edward, I think a picnic would be lovely.”

  “Grey,” he reminded her.

  “There’s no one out here to overhear.�
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  “But if you are in the habit of using my title, you are less likely to slip up as I did with my hearing. At least until you have made up your mind concerning our course.”

  “I’ve caught a couple of the servants looking at me oddly. I’m not sure they know what to make of my no longer calling you Albert.”

  “It is not their place to make anything of it, nor should we concern ourselves with what they think.”

  “I know, but if we go to London together, I think others will find it odd as well.”

  If they went to London together. He wondered how much longer it would be before she said when they went to London together. “People notice far less than we think.”

  “Not among the nobility. Especially among the ladies. They’re all searching for gossip.”

  “Did you?”

  She laughed, the joyous sound that always traveled straight into his soul. It was becoming more difficult not to take her in his arms and kiss her. He wanted to give her the time she required, but damnation, it was torment to keep his desires chained. But then most widows mourned for two years. The Queen still mourned the loss of her husband, and nearly twenty years had passed since his death.

  “Of course I did. Especially my first Season. Not so much now. It’s a game the ladies play. Who can uncover the best gossip? Anyone who uncovered our story would be heralded.” The laughter was gone, her voice tinged with sadness.

  “No one will suspect anything sordid of you,” he assured her. “You are too well liked, too respected. They won’t even be looking.”

  “You don’t know ladies as well as I thought if you believe that. The taller one’s pedestal, the more determined they are to find a way to knock her off it. Besides everyone loves a scandal.”

  “We don’t have to go to London.”

  She stopped walking and faced him. “Of course you do. You now sit in the House of Lords.” Reaching up, she cradled his face. “I don’t fear London.”

  “What do you fear?”