When to Engage an Earl

by Sally MacKenzie

  She took a deep breath and tried to get her emotions and her thoughts under control. She might not have conceived. There was no need to make any life-altering decision right now. In a month at the most, she’d know if there were any permanent consequences.

  “Good morning.”

  She turned to see Alex leaning up on his elbow, smiling at her, his expression open and happy. Dear God, how she loved him. If he were just a man, just a Loves Bridge villager, she would—well, she might—throw away her independence and marry him. But he wasn’t just a villager.

  “Oh, Alex.” She reached for him somewhat desperately. She needed to feel him moving in her once more, needed his weight covering her one more time before she said good-bye.

  He gave her exactly what she needed, hard and fast. No kissing. No sweet words. Just seconds after she touched him, he buried himself deep inside her, his body covering hers as she came apart. She breathed him in, her arms wrapped tight around him, and wished she could keep him there forever.

  “That’s a lovely way to say good morning,” he murmured by her ear, half panting, half laughing. And then he kissed her, as slow and carefully as he’d been fast and hard before.

  I love you, she thought as he lifted himself off her.

  “I’d better get dressed and go to my own room,” he said, climbing out of bed. “It’s possible that a few servants have recovered from yesterday’s celebrations and are up and about.” He grinned at her. “No need to give the Boltwoods more to gossip about.”

  “No.” Though a large enough scandal might force her to overcome her fears.

  She watched him move around the room, collecting his discarded clothing. He was smart and funny and kind, but he also had a lovely arse and wonderful shoulders and chest and . . .

  And a large—and growing larger—male bit.

  Her female bit clenched with the memory of its most recent visit.

  Alex glanced back at her and paused, clothing in one hand, gaze sharpening. “Jane, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to climb back in that bed and have you again.”

  She shivered in anticipation. “That sounds lovely.”

  He snorted. “You are insatiable, Miss Wilkinson, but I will not let you tempt me into further misbehavior.” He pulled on his pantaloons and buttoned his fall. “You cannot have your wicked way with me again until you are my wife.” He dropped his shirt over his head so his words were a bit muffled. “I’ll leave for London today, get a marriage license, and—”

  His head popped out, and he looked at her. His face stilled. “What is it?”

  How was she going to tell him? “I love you, Alex.”

  His face grew even more guarded. “Why do I hear a ‘but’ after that? You love me but . . . ?”

  She shook her head and looked away, her throat suddenly too clogged with unshed tears to speak.

  “But you can’t marry me?”

  She nodded.

  “Why the hell not?”

  He was angry. She tried to stoke an answering anger in herself, but she couldn’t find any fire for it. Instead, she felt the sick, churning distress she used to feel when her father would start shouting. Then she’d slip off to her room—it was usually Mama or Randolph whom Papa was berating rather than her—and escape into a book.

  She hadn’t felt this way since her parents died. That was another benefit of her spinsterhood: Her life was tranquil, undisturbed by any intense emotion.

  “I don’t want to be a countess.” It was more than not wanting it—the thought made her heart seize.

  “Bloody hell! Then you shouldn’t have gone to bed with an earl.”

  “I know.” She could blame the wine, but she didn’t want to lie. The wine had only given her the courage to do what she’d wanted to do.

  He looked like he would say something else, but instead he started storming around the room. “Where the hell are my boots?”

  “Are they under the bed?”

  He got down on his hands and knees to look. “Yes. And here’s the bloody cat, as well. She’d better not have scratched the bloody leather.”

  Poppy shot out from under the bed, but instead of jumping up next to Jane to give her some moral support, she stalked across the floor and leapt up on a chest of drawers by the door—and then she arched her back and hissed!

  Alex finished dressing and strode toward the door as well, still clearly very angry. He put his hand on the latch—and then turned back to sneer at Jane.

  “You must make Isabelle Dorring proud, Miss Wilkinson. You, too, are a witch, luring a randy, idiotic man to your bed.”

  He didn’t shout, but his cold, precise tone was almost worse.

  He paused as if he expected her to brangle with him, but what could she say? He was entitled to his fury. To his pain. She should never have let her body rule her mind.

  Perhaps that was what had happened to poor Isabelle. For the first time, she felt true sympathy for the woman.

  Her lack of response only seemed to enrage Alex more.

  “Since you’ve refused my offer of marriage, madam, I must assume you had a different reason to bed me.” He pulled a coin from his purse and slammed it onto the chest next to Poppy.

  That surprised her. “Wh-what?”

  He glared at her. “I always pay for my pleasure, madam.” He sniffed, sounding like she’d once imagined a haughty peer would sound. “I believe you’ll find I’ve been quite generous, but then you did, after all, give me your virginity.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he said, still in that hateful, demeaning voice, “A word of advice, madam. In future, you would be better served to negotiate a sum prior to any transaction. A man can be quite stupid when his cock is doing his thinking.”

  She sucked in her breath.

  * * *

  Oh, Lord. The distress on Jane’s face slammed into his gut, replacing anger with remorse.

  “Jane, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” He took a step toward her and then stopped. She was on the verge of tears.

  Well, of course she was. What he’d said was cruel. And unfair. He was the one with experience. He should have kept his bloody fall buttoned.

  She’s the one who unbuttoned it.

  That was his cock talking. He could have—should have—stopped her.

  But she’d been so eager yesterday.

  Hell, yesterday? She’d been eager just a few minutes ago. She’d initiated that encounter.

  Zeus, as confused and upset as he was, his cock still hardened at the memory of their joining.

  Well, the memory and the fact that Jane was still naked, her lovely brown hair loose about her shoulders.

  Oh, God. I want her so much I ache—and not just my cock and ballocks.

  His heart ached, too. He wanted her love.

  But she didn’t want him.

  So why had she gone to bed with him? She’d been a virgin. He’d thought she’d meant marriage. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known he was an earl.

  Zeus, he’d never had a woman hold his rank against him, but then, Jane was not like other women. “Why don’t you want to be a countess?”

  She looked down at the sheets. That wasn’t like Jane, either. She was usually direct to the point of bluntness.

  “I don’t want to leave Loves Bridge. It’s my home. My work’s here. My brother’s here—and soon my nephew or niece.”

  He’d thought Jane was more annoyed by Randolph than attached to him. Was she really going to sacrifice her own life to stay near her brother?

  She raised her chin. “And I don’t want to give up my independence.”

  Ah. That rang truer. Spinsterhood was what she wasn’t willing to sacrifice.

  But she said she loved me.

  Perhaps she does love me, but she loves her precious independence more.

  She might not have a choice. “What if you’ve conceived?”

  “I’ll marry you then,” she said quickly. “I won’t have our child born a bastard.”

  T
hank God he didn’t have to fight that battle.

  “And you’ll write me when you know?” It was going to be a long month, waiting for word. And he did need to hear something—he wouldn’t trust silence. “One way or the other?”

  “Yes. I promise I’ll write.”

  “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “One other thing.” Since she was new to carnal relations, she might not have considered all aspects of the issue. “I, er, I don’t mean to be insulting. It’s a compliment, really, but as you were a virgin, you might not . . . that is . . . not that I’m an expert, but . . .” How to say it?

  “But what, Alex?”

  Best to be blunt. “You have a lusty nature, I believe, Jane. Now that you’ve awakened it, I suspect you will need a lot of vigorous tupping to keep you content. You may well find spinsterhood no longer satisfies you.”

  Jane turned bright red—even her lovely breasts were flushed.

  Don’t look at—don’t even think about—Jane’s breasts.

  “It may be difficult.” He cleared his throat again and admonished his cock to stop suggesting he let it remind her now exactly how lusty a nature she had. “You know we’ll see each other from time to time. We’ll likely both be invited to events at the castle, but we won’t be able to do this”—he gestured toward the bed and rumpled bedclothes—and her naked breasts—“again.”

  She pulled the bedclothes up to cover herself. “I know.”

  “If you haven’t conceived, I’ll have to marry eventually.” At the moment the thought of having conjugal relations with anyone but Jane was revolting, but he did have a title to pass down. He was an earl.

  “I know.”

  She looked as bleak as he felt.

  He would just have to hope that, if she wasn’t enceinte, a few weeks of celibacy would persuade her their marriage was worth any sacrifice.

  “Well, then, if you find you’ve changed your mind—for any reason—write me. My offer is on the table until you are completely certain you prefer spinsterhood.”

  “Oh. Yes. Er, thank you.”

  He nodded. There was no point in belaboring things. “I’m off. I think it best if I leave the castle—and the village—straightaway. I’ll tell Emmett I have business at my estate that can’t be put off. No one should suspect my departure has anything to do with you, but if you hear any gossip that makes you uncomfortable, let me know.”

  She nodded.

  “Very good.” He glanced at Poppy.

  The cat gave him a look of feline disdain and then extended one paw to push the coin he’d slapped on the chest over the side. He watched it hit the floor, bounce, and roll under the bed. He heard it spin in smaller and smaller circles until it finally stopped.

  He looked at Jane one last time and left.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Loves Bridge, May 1818

  Jane stood in the Spinster House study and looked out on the garden. Spring had come. What had been gray and barren in February was now lush and green. The bushes were thick with concealing leaves. The ivy was running amok.

  But her heart—her soul—was still in winter.

  She turned away from the view and went into the sitting room where the painting of the tricolored cat that looked so much like Poppy hung. She would like a little furry companionship, but Poppy had deserted her. When Jane had come back from the castle after her short stay in February, Poppy had not.

  It was probably just as well. Poppy would not have approved of all the commotion in the house recently. Once Jane had discovered she wasn’t increasing, she’d decided it was time to take positive steps to move her life forward and make the Spinster House truly hers. She’d finally thrown herself into redecorating. Every spare moment had been taken up with choosing colors and fabrics. The work had not been completed until yesterday.

  She smiled. One unexpected benefit had been discovering Imogen not only had quite an eye for decorating but also actually enjoyed it. She’d been happy to help, and, through working together, they’d started building a friendship.

  One that would likely be completely changed when Imogen’s baby came in a few months.

  Jane looked around. The place did look much better. The walls were freshly painted, most of the furniture had been replaced or recovered, and new curtains hung on every window. The house was clean and modern. Perfect.

  And perfectly depressing.

  Redecorating had not helped her mood.

  She wandered into the kitchen. Perhaps a cup of tea would lift her spirits.

  She’d written to Alex—no, Lord Evans. She had written to Lord Evans in March, telling him their ill-advised activities had not borne fruit and releasing him from his marriage offer. It had felt wrong to hold him to it when there was no child to consider. And truthfully, she’d thought once all the renovations were done, she’d be her old self.

  Apparently not.

  Lud! She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against the counter, resting her head on the cabinet. When would she stop feeling this dull ache in her heart?

  At least it wasn’t a throbbing pain any longer. She’d get over it eventually. She was just lucky she hadn’t conceived.

  She didn’t feel lucky. She hadn’t even felt lucky when her courses had started. She’d felt relieved, yes, but disappointed too. Bereft, really, at losing something she’d never had.

  She’d cried so hard she’d made herself sick.

  How ridiculous.

  I’m crying now.

  She swiped at her tears. She never used to be such a watering pot. She didn’t know herself anymore.

  Perhaps intimate relations changed a body’s humors in some fundamental way.

  She got down a teacup, realized it was one of the ones she’d drunk brandy from with Alex—and cried harder.

  And then heard a knock at the door. Who could that be? She wouldn’t answer.

  The knocking got louder.

  She sighed, took out her handkerchief, and blew her nose. She’d better see who it was. Perhaps the unthinkable had occurred and someone actually wished to get a book from the lending library.

  She opened the door to find Cat and baby William. “Oh!”

  Cat hadn’t stopped by the Spinster House with William since his birth, and Jane hadn’t had time to go to the castle.

  Well, Jane hadn’t made time. There were too many unpleasant memories there.

  No. Most of the memories were pleasant. Very pleasant. It was just the ending that was painful.

  She smiled at William. He was nothing like the spindly creature she’d held right after his birth. “He’s got so big!”

  Cat laughed. “He’s growing like a weed. And he should be. He eats constantly.”

  William gave Jane a big, toothless smile, and her heart turned over.

  “Jane, it looks like you’ve been crying.” Cat frowned at her, worry now in her eyes and her voice. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, er, yes, I’m fine. I must have got something in my eye. It wouldn’t be surprising. All sorts of ancient dust has been stirred up here the last few weeks.”

  Cat smiled, though she still looked suspicious. “I’m dying to see all the changes you’ve made.”

  “Then come in.” Jane looked behind Cat as Cat and William stepped by her. “Where’s Betty?” Betty was the village girl Cat had hired to help out with William, not that Cat needed much help. When one had grown up with nine younger siblings, one became a bit of an expert in childcare.

  “At the castle.”

  “Oh.” Unease twisted in Jane’s stomach. Cat was quite alone—not counting William, of course—and there was only one reason Jane could think of for that. Cat wished to have something out with you. “Who drove you?”

  “Marcus. He’s at the vicarage.”

  Oh, Lord. If the duke had been sent off to visit his in-laws without the baby, something was definitely up, and young William was going to play a role in it. She looked at him again.

  He cooed at her. He was so precious.
>
  The voice that had been whispering in the back of her mind since the return of her courses whispered again.

  If you marry Alex, you might have a child of your own one day.

  She didn’t even like babies. They were smelly, messy, demanding little animals that made her feel awkward and inexperienced. She hated feeling that way.

  And, to be honest, the thought of having such responsibility for another life was quite, quite terrifying.

  Anne had delivered a boy as well. She and Lord Haywood were bringing him to Loves Bridge next week for baby William’s christening. Cat—and Jane, too, of course— were surprised and delighted that Lord Haywood had overcome his natural cautiousness to attempt the journey.

  “Will you take me on a tour?”

  “Of course. We’ll start upstairs, shall we?” Jane led the way. “Imogen was very helpful, you know.”

  “I’m glad. It must have been difficult for her when she came here, knowing no one but Randolph, but she seems to have settled in quite well, don’t you think?”

  “Yes.” It was true. Imogen had made many friends in Loves Bridge.

  Just as you would make friends if you married Alex and moved to his estate.

  Perhaps. But there was also his meddling sister to consider.

  You’re Randolph’s sister.

  I don’t meddle. She looked at Cat and William as they surveyed her refurbished bedroom. Much.

  “Do you remember being born here, Wills?” Cat asked her son.

  The baby laughed. Of course he didn’t remember.

  But Jane did.

  They moved on to the other rooms.

  Diana just wants her brother to be happy.

  True.

  “Oh, you’ve cleared out the storage room!”

  “Yes.” The room that had been cluttered with odds and ends—and the puppet stage—had returned to what likely had been its original purpose—a sitting room. It was very nice, but Jane couldn’t bear to spend any time here. For her, it was haunted with too many memories of Alex.