The Earl Takes All

by Lorraine Heath

  Crying out his name, she tumbled through the void where pleasure dominated. Fell fast and hard, her body arching, clutching him close as he bucked against her, her name a growl forced through his clenched teeth.

  They landed together, a tangle of glistening, sweating bodies, their breaths coming in short gasps.

  Rolling off her, he brought her in against his side, holding her close with one arm, while his hand trailed up and down her arm. They lay in silence for long moments, simply catching their breath, basking in the glow of lingering pleasure.

  “Did you think of him?” he asked quietly.

  She trailed her fingers across his chest. “No.”

  “Not even a little?”

  Rising up on her elbow, she looked down on him. “What are you really asking?”

  “When you look at me, do you see him?”

  “I see only you, Edward. I have for weeks now. I know the two of you looked alike, but I can see little mannerisms in you that I never noticed before, that he didn’t have. I love him.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “I know that. I shouldn’t have even brought him up.”

  She placed a finger over his lips. “Open those lovely brown eyes of yours.” When he did, she said, “I love him and I love you. The love I felt for Albert is different than the love I feel for you. It’s not more or less. It’s not better or worse. It’s simply different. I can’t put it to words. You said if I loved you a thimbleful as much as I loved him, it would be enough. I love you so much more than a thimbleful. I can’t compare or contrast what I feel for either of you. Now and then of course I think of him, but not during moments like this. You’ve been with other women. Did you think of them?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then there you are.”

  The corners of his mouth hitched up. “None of them said naughty things.”

  “I bet you know a whole host of words and phrases to teach me.”

  “I’ll teach you anything you like.”

  “I was afraid he wouldn’t enjoy it, that he would dislike me for it, that’s why I only whispered it in his bad ear. You know me better than he did, and I fear that wasn’t fair to him.”

  “He loved you, Julia. He loved what he had with you. Don’t second-­guess any of it now. That you and I have something different doesn’t make it better or worse. As you said, it just makes it different.”

  She was glad she had something with him that she hadn’t had before. “I think I love you three thimblefuls.”

  He laughed. “Let’s see if I can get it up to four.”

  Rolling her over, he enthusiastically threw himself into the challenge.

  Chapter 22

  As the first of their four coaches pulled to a stop in front of the London residence, Julia took a deep breath. It was one thing to carry on a ruse when they were seldom visited. It would be another thing entirely here. Every day someone was bound to call on them. Not to mention the whirlwind of parties, balls, and dinners they were expected to attend.

  She felt Edward’s—­Greyling’s, Grey’s, she had to remember to think of him as Grey—­hand close around hers and squeeze.

  “It’s not too late if you’ve changed your mind. I can help you and Allie get settled in here, and then I’ll carry on to the residence I began leasing last year.”

  Leaning in, she kissed him. “I haven’t changed my mind. I’m married to the Earl of Greyling.”

  “No one will know otherwise.”

  The footman opened the door. Greyling stepped out and handed her down. He seemed so confident, self-­assured, and yet she suspected he had to be experiencing some trepidation regarding the gauntlet that he—­that they both—­would be passing through. Far too many opportunities existed for a slip, which would destroy their one chance to be together as well as their reputations. But the love she held for him was worth the risk.

  She was unable to envision her life without him in it. A chaste relationship seemed hardly possible when she was fully aware of the passion that existed between them. It still amazed her that he’d been able to hold it in check for so many years.

  As they walked up the steps, another footman opened the door. “My lord, my lady, welcome home.”

  “Thank you, John,” she said. Edward had memorized the names of the main staff, but distinguishing one tall, dark-­haired footman from another was going to take time, because she’d been unable to provide him with any descriptions that would make that task easy. Not that he needed to know the names of most of them.

  Stepping into the residence, she inhaled deeply the familiar fragrances of their London residence. Flowers adorned the entryway, the floor glistened with a recent polishing, stairs on either side led up to the next level.

  “Lord and Lady Greyling,” the butler said with a slight bow. “We’re glad to have you in residence. Allow me to offer the staff’s condolences on the loss of Mr. Alcott.”

  It hadn’t occurred to her that everyone in London who hadn’t been at the funeral might feel a need to offer their sympathies on the death of Edward. And each offering simply served as a reminder of their deception.

  “Thank you, Hoskins,” Edward said. “I’ll be going back out shortly. See that a horse is readied.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Taking her arm, Edward began escorting her toward the stairs that led up to their bedchambers.

  “I didn’t realize you would be leaving so soon,” she said.

  “I need to go speak with Ashe.”

  “That seems rather risky. I should think if anyone could discern the truth—­”

  “He already has.”

  At the top of the stairs, she turned to face him. He gave her a laconic grin. “He and Locke both figured it out the day of the funeral. For what it’s worth, Ashe was rather insistent that I tell you the truth then and there. Which is why it’s imperative that I speak with him as soon as possible. He needs to know that you know, before he takes it upon himself to tell you.” He touched his fingers to her cheek. “Don’t look so worried. He won’t object once I explain things to him.”

  “Perhaps I should go with you.”

  “It’s best if I go alone. I’m sure he’ll have some choice words for me, the sort that should never touch a lady’s ears.”

  “Will he think ill of me?”

  “Not unless he wants a bloodied nose.”

  She forced a light laugh. “And Locke?”

  “He’s not coming to London for the Season. Perhaps we’ll stop at Havisham on our return to Evermore.”

  It hadn’t occurred to her that anyone would know what she and Edward were up to, but she knew he trusted his childhood friends.

  “When I return, we’ll go for a ride in the park,” he said. “Ease our way back into London Society.”

  “I shall look forward to it.” A little lie. She rather dreaded it, feared she would give them away.

  Leaning in, he took her mouth, and she melted against him. She always melted against him. How was it that after a hundred kisses, he still had the power to completely undo her with little more than the persistent press of his lips, the swirling of his tongue over hers?

  Drawing back, he grinned. “I’ll return posthaste.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  “I love when you utter those words.”

  He dashed down the stairs before she could stop him, before she could suggest that perhaps he should join her in her bedchamber for a bit. God, what a wanton she was. He sent all her good sense to perdition.

  As Edward trotted his horse through the familiar streets, he hoped that taking Julia to the park later would reassure her that no one was going to look at him and see Edward. They had no reason to doubt the veracity of his identity. He had no reason to lie. He was the Earl of Greyling. That was whom people would see.

  The closer they’d
come to London, the tenser Julia had become. He’d tried to distract her with kisses but even they had failed to relax her once they entered London proper. One of the things he loved about her was her awareness of her reputation and its impact on her daughter’s prospects for a happy life. Scandal was a scourge that could ruin any bright future, and unfortunately, ladies could get away with far less inappropriate behavior than men. Perhaps because they cared so much more about their positions, but then it was more important for them. Few had the means to support themselves. Marriage was their occupation.

  Edward now had a rank, power, and wealth. Mothers would overlook his transgressions if it meant a good match for their daughters. But a ruined woman made a favorable mistress, and men would often settle for that when desire was all that drew them.

  But more than desire drew Edward to Julia. He admired her strength, her dedication to the right path even if she was willing to tiptoe along the wrong one for him. Actually, that made him love her all the more.

  Drawing his horse to a halt in front of Ashe’s residence, he quickly wrapped the reins around the hitching post before darting up the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. He wasn’t anticipating this confrontation, but it had to be done. He knocked, waited. The door opened.

  “Lord Greyling,” the footman said.

  Edward still had a moment of wanting to look around for Albert whenever someone spoke that address. He wasn’t certain if he’d ever grow accustomed to it being directed at him. For Julia and the sake of their relationship, he had to.

  Handing his hat, riding crop, and gloves to the footman, he asked, “Where might I find the duke?”

  The earl’s presence here was the natural order of things. Staff was well aware that he didn’t require an announcement.

  “He’s in the library, my lord.”

  Edward carried on down the hallway. The library door was unattended, which suited him just fine. He didn’t need anyone to overhear the coming conversation, and he suspected part of it might entail a raised voice or two. Although he had no intention of being goaded into shouting.

  Ashe was sitting behind his desk, apparently in the process of inscribing some missive. Looking up, he shoved back his chair and stood. “Edward. I was just writing to you to see if you were planning on coming to London.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You told her, then?”

  “I did.”

  With a brusque nod, which Edward took as a sign of approval, his longtime friend walked over to the sideboard and splashed scotch into two glasses. He handed Edward one. “How did she take it?”

  “As you predicted. Her heart shattered, she wished me dead, and she went into mourning.”

  “That could not have been pleasant for either of you, but being forthright is always the least complicated path. I suppose your next step is to dispatch a letter to the Times.”

  “No, actually.” Edward took a long slow swallow of the scotch, holding Ashe’s gaze the entire time. “My next step is to tell you to keep what you know to yourself.”

  Ashe angled his head thoughtfully, his mouth pressed into a hard, firm line. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I love her, and she loves me. We’re going to continue on as we have been, with people believing Edward is dead and I am Albert.”

  “Have you gone mad?”

  “Our positions in Society prevent us from going off to some parish where we’re not known and getting married. We are known among the nobility. Good God, we’re known among royalty. The only way we can have a marriage that is not questioned is if Albert remains alive. Tell me that I’m mistaken.”

  “But you’re not Albert. This is not legitimate; you’re not legally wed.”

  “No one other than you, Locke, Marsden, Julia, and I will ever know that.”

  Ashe spun around, paced halfway across the room, stopped, turned back. “If even one person should suspect—­”

  “No one ever will. Why would they? Why would anyone suspect I am not Albert? The entire notion is ludicrous—­that I would pretend to be my brother. That Edward would want as his wife a woman he abhorred. Why would anyone even postulate such a scenario as Edward not being the one laid to rest in the vault at Evermore? I’m the legitimate heir, Ashe. There is no reason for this ruse other than keeping at my side the woman I love. Who is harmed by us going on as we have been for a little over half a year already? I submit that we will cause more harm if the truth is revealed.”

  Ashe dropped into a chair, hung his head. “Are you certain you love her?”

  “It is the one thing I am completely, entirely certain of. And I love her with all my heart. Will you deny us a lifetime of love because of a stupid law?”

  He looked up. “We could work to get it changed.”

  “How long will that take? What if we have children before the law is changed? Do we deny ourselves each other’s company? Would you tell Minerva, ‘Someday we will be together but not now’?”

  “Damn you.”

  Edward realized he should have asked him that question in the beginning. It was no secret that Ashe adored his wife, would do anything to have her.

  Ashe stood. “If you love her even half as much as I love Minerva . . .”

  Edward was willing to wager his entire fortune that he loved Julia as much as Ashe loved Minerva—­if not more.

  The Duke of Ashebury raised his glass. “Edward, I wish you and Julia all the happiness in the world. You’ll have my silence, and from this moment forth I will recognize you as Grey. I pray to God that you have better luck keeping your secrets than I had keeping mine.”

  Edward tossed back his scotch, ignoring the shiver of foreboding that skittered up his spine.

  “Don’t look so terrified, Julia.”

  Perched atop her horse, at the entrance to Hyde Park, she glanced over at Edward. “I feel as though I’m wearing a huge sign that reads ‘Imposter.’ ”

  “You’re not the imposter. I am.” He said it so casually, with such ease, as though he wasn’t at all bothered, but then he had been ensconced in the role for a good long while now.

  “I’m afraid I’ll give us away.”

  “We’ve exchanged vows. I’m your husband as much as I can be your husband. Remember that. And remember that I love you to distraction.”

  She held out her hand. When he placed his within it, she squeezed hard. “I love you as well. So much. Bearing witness to our devotion to each other, people will surely not suspect the truth.”

  “I promise you that no one is looking for Edward.”

  Nodding, she released his hand. “Don’t forget that you’re deaf in your right ear.”

  “Few will take note of that. Albert was self-­conscious about his loss of hearing. Only those closest to him knew he had difficulty hearing.”

  She smiled with a memory. It was becoming easier to think of him without the pang of sorrow. “I’d forgotten about that. He told me just before he asked me to marry him—­as though his inability to hear in one ear would dampen my love for him.”

  “I liked to tease him about it.”

  “No! You were not that cruel.”

  He nodded. “When we were in a group of people, I could tell when he didn’t hear the comments because he would just nod and smile, so I would make some ludicrous retort as though it was in answer to something someone said, and Albert would respond in kind until we had those around us thinking we’d lost our minds.”

  “That sounds awful.”

  “It was funny, but you had to be there to appreciate it. He’d always laugh afterward. ‘You got me again, Edward,’ he’d say. Then I’d discover he filled my scotch glass with some bitter brew of tea that had me spitting it out. God, I so enjoyed the tricks we played on each other.”

  “I’m glad we can talk about him now, so openly.”

  “I’m glad to see
you smiling. We can carry on now, I think.”

  She realized he’d used his tale about Albert to distract her, to put her at ease. With a gentle flick of her riding crop, she prodded her horse forward into the park and the mash of people who thought it was incredibly important to make an appearance this time of day. Tomorrow she would begin making morning calls, and ladies would make them on her.

  For now, she simply focused on how much she enjoyed the company of the man riding beside her. “Will you be going to the club tonight?”

  “No. I doubt I’ll ever go to the club again.”

  With a teasing smile, she looked askance and skeptically at him. “That would raise suspicions. A gentleman not going to his club. That’s rather expected.”

  “Not of a man who is madly in love with his wife.”

  She did feel like his wife, in manner, deed, and commitment. “You make me blush.”

  “I intend to make every inch of you blush later.”

  “Your mind always travels to the bedchamber.”

  “Who said anything about a bedchamber? I was thinking on the desk in the library.”

  “Grey!” She didn’t know if she’d ever become accustomed to calling him that.

  “Or perhaps in the garden among the roses.” He was smiling wickedly. She could clearly see herself stretched out on the verdant grass, him raised above her, the stars a backdrop behind him while she—­

  “Lord and Lady Greyling.”

  At the sound of the deep voice, she very nearly squeaked like a frightened mouse and jerked on the reins. She managed to bring the mare up short without causing her to shy away from the couple, on matching black horses, who had drawn even with them. The Duke and Duchess of Avendale. He, dark and foreboding; she, fair, but with a shrewdness in her eyes that indicated not much escaped her notice. The one thing that Julia took comfort in was the knowledge that Rosalind Buckland, a commoner by birth, had only recently entered the ranks of the nobility and didn’t know her or the Earl of Greyling well enough to discern if anything about them was different. They were the perfect couple for easing her back into social situations.