How to Catch an Errant Earl

by Amy Rose Bennett

  She inhaled a breath to call out his name, but then he suddenly appeared in the open doorway. And Arabella gasped, her hand flying to her throat.

  Oh, Lord above! Gabriel was shirtless and barefoot, his breeches slung low around his narrow hips. But that’s not why horrified mortification, perverse fascination, and wicked desire tangled together inside her, rendering her speechless and frozen to the spot.

  The fall front of his breeches was open, and in one large hand, he gripped his fully erect penis.

  Arabella didn’t know where to look—her gaze skittered away into the shadows, but somehow her awareness was still completely focused on Gabriel. Aside from an initial widening of his eyes, perhaps because he was momentarily startled, too, he now appeared completely unperturbed. He leaned nonchalantly against the door, one raised forearm resting on the doorframe. He made no attempt to hide his nudity or aroused state. Indeed, his mouth kicked into a wicked smile as he gave his shaft a long, languid stroke. “Can I help you, my sweet wife?”

  Her face aflame, Arabella swallowed to moisten her dry mouth. “I . . . um . . . I came in to . . . But you . . . I mean there was no one . . .” It was no good. She was so breathless and her thoughts so scattered, she doubted she could string a coherent sentence together even if her life depended upon it.

  “Have you had a change of heart about inviting me into your bed, Bella?” Gabriel’s voice was so deep and husky with lust, it stirred Arabella’s blood; it ran hot and fast, straight to her sex. As she blinked at him like a brainless ninnyhammer, he moved his fist with deliberate slowness, caressing himself from root to tip. “Or if you haven’t, perhaps you could take pity on me and lend a hand . . .”

  Lend a hand? Was he suggesting that she stroke him? Without thinking, Arabella began to curl her tongue around the word yes, but then sanity prevailed, and she stopped herself. If she gave in to temptation, who knew where things might end. She shook her head. “I . . . no. Gabriel, I’m so sorry for disturbing you. I didn’t mean to . . . to interrupt . . .” Somehow, she tore her fascinated gaze from her husband and examined the exotic patterns in the rug at her feet. “I needed . . . I mean I need help with loosening my stays. The laces are badly knotted. But there doesn’t seem to be a way to ring for a maid, not that I can see, at any rate . . . I was going to ask Ryecroft to fetch someone . . . but he isn’t here . . .”

  Gabriel sighed and straightened. “What a shame,” he murmured. Turning away from her, he began to adjust his breeches. “If you could give me a moment,” he called over his shoulder, “I’ll help.”

  “No . . . no it’s quite all right. I just need a maid.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Gabriel disappeared, and Arabella heard water splashing in the basin. A few moments later when he stepped back into the room, his breeches were buttoned and he was wearing a banyan. “I’m here and happy to do it. I happen to be quite adept at undoing stays.”

  “I’m not sure if that makes me feel more or less comfortable about this,” grumbled Arabella.

  Gabriel clucked his tongue like a cross nurse as he padded across the rug in his bare feet. “Here, turn around. The knot will be undone in a jiffy and then you can go to bed. You must be dead on your feet.”

  Arabella couldn’t deny that she was exhausted. And there didn’t seem much point in refusing his seemingly sincere offer to help, so she complied.

  Once she’d presented her back to Gabriel, she undid the buttons at the front of her gown so it would be loose enough to slide off her shoulders to expose her stays. She was suddenly transported back to their wedding day when Gabriel had undressed her before making her his wife in truth. Stiffening her spine, she made herself resist the urge to sway backward and press herself against his beautiful body.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you before,” Gabriel murmured as he worked at the knot. “I had no idea anyone was in here.”

  Arabella turned her head to speak over her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. I did knock but apparently not quite hard enough.”

  There was a long pause, then Gabriel cursed beneath his breath as he continued to fumble with the knot. “I shouldn’t have acted so crudely either. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

  “I do.” Curiosity tugged at Arabella and before she could stop herself, she added, “Do you . . . do you do that often?”

  “I assume you mean come off by my own hand?”

  Arabella blushed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She’d never dreamed such a thing was even possible, but it seemed it was. “Aye.”

  “More often than I probably should, but at the moment, it’s the only thing I can do to achieve some relief . . . You see, men are base creatures and have strong urges by and large. If we’re sexually aroused and don’t expend our seed regularly . . .” Arabella sensed that he shrugged. “Our bollocks become quite painful and ache with the need for release.”

  Oh. “I had no idea,” whispered Arabella. It was the truth. She was only beginning to understand how odd the male of the species really was, especially if the man in question was a rakehell. Charlie had been right. There were so many things young women didn’t know about men. Or sexual intercourse.

  “You could always try it yourself sometime,” continued Gabriel in a low voice. “Self-gratification is nowhere near as fulfilling as sexual congress, but it can relieve one’s frustration. If one is frustrated of course . . .”

  Was he fishing to find out if she suffered from a similar affliction? Arabella didn’t know what to say. Yes, she was frustrated. Perhaps even more so since she’d come upon Gabriel in flagrante. The image of him stroking himself so casually, so seductively, had burned its way into her brain. But she didn’t want to admit her body thrummed with need too. It seemed this man had awoken a hunger in her that couldn’t be satisfied.

  Well, that wasn’t quite true. Gabriel could satisfy her, but she wouldn’t let him. For very sound, eminently sensible reasons. Though right at this moment, she was very tempted to throw all of them out the window.

  She was spared from having to respond as Gabriel at last loosened the knot. “There we go,” he said softly.

  When Arabella’s voice emerged, she was dismayed it contained a telltale husky edge. “Thank you.”

  Before she could shrug her gown back into place, Gabriel curled his fingers lightly about the tops of her bare arms and she shivered with awareness. He was so close, she could feel his body heat, hear his breathing. She held her own breath, waiting. The air around them trembled with expectation as desire whispered and beckoned. Lured . . . She closed her eyes and prayed for strength. The urge to surrender to its pull was almost irresistible.

  “These past two weeks, it hasn’t been easy, being so very close to you, yet I cannot have you, Arabella.” Gabriel leaned close and she felt the brush of his cheek against her hair. “I think you’d best go before I break my word and actually do try to seduce you.” He pressed a soft kiss against her temple. “Good night, my lovely lady wife. I wish you sweet dreams.”

  His hands lightly caressed her arms one last time and then he stepped back, releasing her.

  Arabella clutched her loosened gown to her chest with shaking hands and forced herself to walk away, to return to her room before she changed her mind.

  Chapter 13

  England’s most Errant Earl has returned to town!

  However, many of the ladies of the ton will be disappointed to learn he’s married.

  Rumors abound about the identity of his new blushing bride and whether or not she’ll be able to tame him . . .

  The Beau Monde Mirror: The Society Page

  Langdale House, St. James’s Square, London

  July 26, 1818

  It was approaching midnight when Gabriel’s coach drew to a stop in front of his town house. Despite the fatigue weighing her down, Arabella stared up at the grand facade with its white pillars a
nd shiny black double doors in wide-eyed amazement as her husband helped her to alight.

  It would take her some time to become accustomed to residing in houses that were veritable palaces.

  “Welcome home, my Lady Langdale,” Gabriel said as he took her arm and escorted her up the short flight of stairs to the front door. “I sent word ahead that we would be arriving late tonight, so the staff should have readied our rooms. And knowing my butler, they are probably gathering to greet us as we speak.”

  Almost too weary to reply, Arabella inclined her head and smiled. “That’s very kind.”

  “Kindness has nothing to do with it, my dear. I pay them well and they ought to show their new mistress due deference.”

  The butler, a gray-haired slender gentleman of middling age, admitted them. Gabriel introduced him as Jervis; he gave an elegant bow as he greeted Arabella. “My lady, welcome to Langdale House. If there’s anything at all that you need, you have only to ask.”

  Arabella smiled her approval. “Thank you.”

  “I’m afraid this has been a bachelor’s residence for so long, I don’t have all that many maids on staff,” said Gabriel after he’d introduced her to the middle-aged housekeeper, a short, plump-cheeked woman with kind brown eyes. “But I’m sure you and Mrs. Mayberry here will have that all sorted out soon enough.”

  “Yes, indeed, my lord,” agreed Mrs. Mayberry. She smiled warmly at Arabella. “Ma’am.”

  The remaining introductions to the assembled footmen and a handful of maids were conducted swiftly, and then Mrs. Mayberry offered to show Arabella to her suite.

  Gabriel, still holding Arabella’s arm as though he didn’t want to release her, accompanied them. “The apartments were once my mother’s,” he explained as they mounted the left side of a sweeping oak staircase that led up to the next floor. “You might want to redecorate as everything will be outdated and I’m sure you have your own particular tastes in furnishings. So spare no expense. My pockets are deep.”

  Arabella didn’t want to raise a difficult subject, but felt compelled to anyway. “Are you sure? Because if Langdale House is entailed . . .” She didn’t need to complete the thought, as Gabriel gathered her meaning straightaway.

  To her dismay, he grimaced. “You’re right, it’s probably best to wait until this title business is sorted out. Curse my cousin.”

  “It’s quite all right,” Arabella offered as they climbed another set of stairs to a long, wide gallery. The oak wainscoting and gilt-framed paintings gleamed softly in the muted glow of the wall lamps. “Perhaps I can use a little of the money for other things.”

  Gabriel patted her hand. “You’ll have a separate, generous allowance for a new wardrobe.”

  “Oh no, I didn’t mean for clothes. I’d like to begin donating funds to some of the charitable concerns that are dear to me. If you agree.”

  “And you shall have a separate budget for that too.”

  Arabella’s gaze whipped to his. “Are you sure?” How much money did this man have?

  “Of course. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it,” he said. “Besides, we had an agreement, remember?”

  “Yes . . .” She would provide him with an heir and he would support her charities.

  She wasn’t able to add anything further, as Mrs. Mayberry was opening a set of double doors. “Your rooms, Lady Langdale,” she said as she stepped back to let her and Gabriel pass through into the suite beyond. “I trust they meet with your satisfaction. But if anything is amiss, or you require anything else, just let me know. There’s hot water already waiting in the dressing room.”

  Arabella inclined her head. “Thank you.” And then she gave a soft gasp.

  The sitting room was beautiful. The plush Aubusson rug, the curtains, armchairs, and sofas were all decked out in soft shades of gold, cream, and dusky rose. A Boulle clock and a large bunch of deep pink roses and lilies graced the white marble mantelpiece, and silk wallpaper featuring a delicate pattern of pink peonies, butterflies, and dragonflies lined the walls above the honey-hued satinwood paneling. After Mrs. Mayberry showed her the bedroom with its elegant four-poster bed, Arabella turned back to Gabriel, who was waiting by the fireplace, watching her. “I’m telling you now, I won’t need to redecorate,” said Arabella. “I’ve never seen such lovely rooms.”

  “I’m pleased to hear they meet with your approval, my lady.” Gabriel’s mouth tipped into a rakish half smile, and Arabella’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m not far away”—he nodded toward a door on the other side of the sitting room—“if you ever want me.”

  Oh, my. Of course she wanted her husband. Too much. Despite her fatigue, desire began to hum inside Arabella and she barely heard the knock on the door heralding the arrival of several footmen bearing her traveling trunk, medical bag, and valise. Mrs. Mayberry directed them to the dressing room, and then all the servants quit the room, leaving her and Gabriel quite alone.

  Gabriel rested one arm along the mantel. He picked up a stray pink rose petal and rubbed it between his fingertips. “In the morning, I’d suggest you talk to Mrs. Mayberry about securing a lady’s maid. She’ll be most helpful in that regard.”

  “I’m sure she will.” Arabella was relieved Gabriel seemed to be focusing on mundane, practical matters again.

  “And tomorrow, I will seek an audience with the Archbishop of Canterbury to obtain a special license. I’d like us to wed the day after, here at Langdale House as I’d rather not cause a fuss. I’ll see if the minister at St. George’s is available for an afternoon service. As you know, I don’t want anyone to be able to challenge the validity of our marriage.”

  Arabella nodded. “I understand. And I agree.”

  “Good.” Gabriel dropped the crushed rose petal and regarded her for a moment before he added, “I’d like to hold a gathering here afterward. With all of our friends.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful,” declared Arabella. Happiness flooded her heart. She couldn’t wait to see Charlie, Sophie, and Olivia. Perhaps she could even arrange to meet with them tomorrow. A reunion at Gunter’s perhaps?

  Gabriel was speaking again. “Do order whatever flowers you’d like to decorate the house. I’m sure Mrs. Mayberry will be able to handle the catering for the wedding breakfast, but you may wish to consult with her to ensure the arrangements meet with your satisfaction. And if you wish, feel free to take my town coach and visit whichever modiste you would like in order to obtain a new gown for the occasion. Just set up an account in my name.”

  “Thank you,” Arabella replied. “But I’m more than happy with the one I wore on our wedding day in Clarens. It’s exquisite. It would be a shame not to wear it again.”

  “You are very easy to please, Arabella, and I am most grateful. I will see you on the morrow then . . .” His mouth kicked into a wicked grin. “Unless, of course, you have trouble with your stays again . . . As you know, my door is always open.”

  Arabella made herself frown. “Have I ever told you that you’re incorrigible?”

  Gabriel gave a deep, throaty chuckle. “Sweetheart,” he said as he headed for his room, “I think I have a new aim in life. My day will not be complete unless I’ve heard you call me incorrigible at least once.”

  Arabella couldn’t help but smile. At least her incorrigible husband was good-natured about his shortcomings. Left alone, she retired to her own bedchamber and began to get ready for bed. The next two days would be busy indeed, but she didn’t mind. She’d be surrounded by the people she loved most in this world, her friends.

  But then a wave of sadness welled. She’d have to pretend that her marriage to Gabriel was a blissful love match, just like Sophie’s. Because how could she admit to Charlie, Sophie, and Olivia that her bridegroom had merely offered for her out of a sense of obligation and that the nature of their union was purely transactional?

  She didn’t want to lie, bu
t sharing the unadulterated, perhaps even ugly truth would be difficult indeed.

  28 Russell Square, London

  July 27, 1818

  “I’m sorry, Lord Langdale, but my master has given orders that you are not to be admitted under any circumstances.”

  Gabriel ground his teeth as he leveled a hard stare at the weak-chinned butler attempting to guard the front door of his uncle’s town house. He almost felt sorry for the chap because he was about to discover no one stood in the Earl of Langdale’s way. His uncle was still alive and he would see him.

  “Whose orders exactly?” he demanded in a low, gravel-laced voice and braced a forearm against the door to stop the man from closing it in his face. “My cousin’s or my uncle Stephen’s?”

  The butler swallowed and his jowls quivered. “Captain Holmes-Fitzgerald’s of course. He’s not home at present and his father is indisp—” He broke off as Gabriel gave the door a quick, forceful shove, unbalancing the servant. “Now, see here! You can’t just barge in—”

  But it was too late, Gabriel had already pushed past the stumbling butler and was striding toward the stairs that led to the bedrooms on the next floor. “Yes I can. I’ll see my uncle whenever I like.”

  None of the other servants challenged him as he mounted the stairs, two at a time, and marched down the corridor. Considering that Timothy was probably using Gabriel’s coin to pay their wages, they bloody well should mind their own damned business.

  Stopping before his uncle’s door, Gabriel drew a steadying breath to collect himself. The report he’d received from Nate a month ago indicated his uncle was in a very frail state. Indeed, it seemed like a miracle that Uncle Stephen had managed to hang on to life for this long.

  Gabriel didn’t want to disturb him when he was so unwell, but he feared that he must. This might be his last chance to glean any additional information about his parents’ marriage before Timothy acted. Perhaps Uncle Stephen knew something about the two witnesses who’d been present at his parents’ anvil wedding. Their names appeared on the certificate, but he feared that wasn’t enough. He’d always assumed they were local villagers from Springfield, but then again, they might very well have been acquaintances of his mother or father. Or even servants in his father’s employ. Surely it would help if at least someone was able to attest before the Committee for Privileges that a lawful Scottish marriage ceremony had indeed taken place.