The Redemption of a Dissolute Earl

by Julie Johnstone

  Drew leaned towards her, his lips almost brushing hers. “What about a husband?” he whispered with an intensity that made her tingle.

  “I suppose, though you’ll be poor, you’ll do.”

  “Char?”

  “Yes?”

  “I think I’m going to have to break my promise.”

  With a chuckle, she reached out and twined her hands into his hair, pulling his lips against hers, helping him break his promise not to touch her. One of his hands came to the back of her neck to cup it. His other hand slid into her hair, and his fingers twined into the silky strands. “God, Char. I’ve had so many dreams about touching you this way once again that a part of me fears I’m still dreaming.”

  “You’re not,” she whispered as his mouth descended upon hers. His lips brushed hers reverently, exploring, licking, and nipping ever so gently. The longing she had kept pent up for over a year poured through her, and she let out a moan as his lips became more demanding. She could feel, by the increasing assault of his lips, the need he had bottled up releasing inside of him. He let out his own ragged moan just as his tongue delved inside her mouth and incited her own need and hunger for him to a frenzied level. She wanted more of him. She needed more of him.

  “Drew,” she panted as she pulled back. “I need you.”

  “I need you too. So badly in fact, I’ll probably lie on this cold, hard floor all night with an enormous—”

  Charlotte slapped a hand over his mouth and giggled at the picture of him lying on the floor, pining for her. Finally, her fondest wish had come true. “Come to my room with me?”

  “God, no!” Drew pushed back in his chair. “If I so much as stepped foot in a room where we were alone with a bed, I’d ravish you. I’d rather die first than put my needs before you ever again.”

  Charlotte flung herself in his arms and hugged him. “I love you, Drew!” It felt so freeing and so right to say it once again.

  “I’m so glad to hear you say that, Char. I’d hate to think I’d wasted all night coming up with ways to earn a living for someone who detested me.”

  She kissed him on the neck, on his cheeks, his chin, his nose and finally his lips. If she didn’t stand up soon, they would both end up on the cold, hard floor but no one would be wasting any time pining. Reluctantly, she pushed back her chair and stood. Finally remembering the pillow and blanket, she reached down and handed them to him. “These are for you. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”

  He rose, took her hand and kissed it. “And every morning after for the rest of your life.”

  Happiness suffused her, but as she walked back to her bedroom, a light chill settled over her. Her father’s illness weighed heavy on her mind, along with the knowledge that she and Drew would more than likely have to face his father tomorrow. A grey pall threatened to consume the happiness from moments ago.

  Once she was inside her room and nestled under her blanket, more doubt crept over her. What if Drew crumbled, as he had done once before, when face-to-face with his father? What if the duke joined in the argument against Drew marrying her? She’d never known anyone to win a verbal match against the Duke of Danby. Had she been stupid to allow Drew completely back into her heart? She buried her head in her pillow. There was nothing else she could have done. She loved him too much not to give him a second chance, whether foolish or not. She prayed he did not fail her again. Just imagining her devastation if he did left her in a cold sweat and sleep evaded her into the darkest hour of the night.

  Late the next night after slow travels due to the snow, Drew peered into the darkness as the carriage finally turned onto Danby Castle’s long drive. Every blasted achingly cold moment of the previous evening had been worth the possibility of gaining Char’s trust and her hand in marriage. Drew stared at Char, resisting the desire to gather her into his arms and hold her close. The rational side of him knew he would not muck things up again and lose her, but the irrational side of him remembered every moment without her and the memories made him shudder. He twined his fingers together so he would not wake her until the last possible second, but the wheels rolled over the pea-gravel making Char stir in her sleep.

  He grinned to himself. Since clearly she was waking up, he reached over and pulled her close to his side before pressing his lips to the top of her head. This was right. This was how it could have been a year ago had he not been a weak, cowardly fool. His shame twisted in his gut. It would take his life and beyond to make up his failing Char.

  Edgeworth snorted from the other side of the carriage. “I hope I never fall in love.”

  Drew ran a hand over Char’s silky locks, his heart clenching with a sweet ache. “Why?” he whispered, not wanting to jar her from sleep but to let her come gradually back to him. Her fear for her father’s health had mounted all day on the trip, and in sleep, the small line of worry that had been present between her brows had finally disappeared.

  “The look on your face,” Edgeworth said, straightening to glance out the carriage window.

  “My face?” Drew softly brushed his lips against Char’s. He couldn’t resist, and in his defense her eyelashes were fluttering

  “Yes, your bloody face. You look so struck, so damn vulnerable. I never wish to be vulnerable again.”

  Drew forced his gaze away from Char to his cousin. Again? Had Edgeworth said again? As far as Drew knew Edgeworth had never loved anything but the fact that women flocked to him in such great numbers. “Something you care to talk about, Edgeworth?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. It would change nothing.”

  Drew did not want to push his cousin. If the man needed an ear to confide in, Edgeworth knew Drew would listen. “If you ever need to talk you know I’m here.”

  Edgeworth shrugged, his discomfort obvious. “Maybe later when your logical mind returns.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll be waiting a long time then. I’m in love, and I’ve come to the conclusion that logic has little to do with love.”

  “Exactly what I mean,” Edgeworth grumbled as the carriage jerked to a halt. His cousin frowned. “Roberts must be tired to be so clumsy.”

  “Give the man a bit of leave. We drove him into the ground today, demanding we travel in this weather.”

  The door swung open and a disheveled Roberts let down the stepladder. Reluctantly, Drew shook Char until her eyes fluttered open. “We’re here, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear.

  She sat up with a start, her eyes opening wide. “Will you come with me?”

  The green silk she wore accented her red hair and fair skin. His lust soared, but he ignored it. Char didn’t need his lust, she needed his honor. “Of course,” Drew assured her and took her hand to help her descend the stepladder.

  The grand front door to the castle opened before Drew and Char made it to the steps. Brightson, the footman, smiled at them. “Neither of you were expected until tomorrow. Welcome back, Miss Milne.” Brightson turned to Drew. “Welcome home, my lord. His Grace will be so pleased to see you. He’s still awake and in his study if you care to see him tonight, and I can check to see if Lord Norland might still be up if you wish a word.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Drew said, bringing Charlotte’s hand close to his chest. The footman gaped at Drew, but he ignored the man’s stare and focused on Charlotte. He sensed the urgency to see her father in the tremors of her body. “I’ll see Grandfather and my father tomorrow. I’m going to attend Miss Milne while she cares for her father.”

  “Cares for her father?”

  Drew glanced back at the footman at the confusion in his voice. The footman stared blankly back at Drew.

  Charlotte tensed beside him, her hand gripping his. “I’m not too late, am I?”

  Brightson shook his head. “I should say not. Pardon me, Miss Milne, but if you remember, your father never goes to bed until he’s positive His Grace is asleep.”

  Charlotte’s eyes became two slits of fiery green. “Then I should think the duke
would be considerate enough to retire early, given my father’s condition and knowing how he will fail to succumb to sleep until His Grace’s head hits the pillow.”

  Drew studied Brightson. The man looked positively lost. His brow was furrowed, his head titled in question. At the rate Charlotte’s temper was rising, she’d be screaming in a moment, and Drew had no desire to chance his father being woken. Tomorrow was soon enough to tell his sire to go to hell.

  “We’ll just show ourselves to Mr. Milne’s quarters.” Drew pressed his hand behind Charlotte’s back to guide her towards the servants’ stairs.

  “Milne isn’t in his quarters, sir. He’s with the duke in the study.”

  Charlotte whirled around to face Brightson. “Do you mean to tell me my father is up out of bed in his condition?”

  The footman’s frown deepened until three crevices formed between his eyebrows. “The duke demanded his presence, so your father complied.”

  Charlotte was halfway down the hall to the study before Drew caught up with her. She jumped when he touched her lightly on the back. Her gaze cut to him, but her step did not falter. The slapping of her slippers against the marble tile echoed in the long corridor. “I’m going to take my father away from this place and see he never has to work another day in his life. I won’t stay here a single minute under the same roof with your uncaring family.”

  Drew pressed his lips together. He knew better than to argue the point with her when she was so hurt, so angry. Hell, he didn’t blame her. How could his grandfather be so selfish as to demand a man on death’s door drag himself out of bed to attend whatever need Grandfather thought could not wait?

  Drew frowned. It was unlike the old goat to be uncaring. Harsh, yes. Demanding, absolutely. Especially to his own blood, but Drew had witnessed firsthand how Grandfather had always treated his servants with respect, dignity, and a measure of caring, as if he were responsible for his staff members’ well-being.

  Why then did he not treat the one servant Drew was sure he respected the most with the same regard? Was it because he somehow blamed Milne for Drew’s disappearance for the last year? Drew would have to set his grandfather straight.

  He raised his hand to knock on Grandfather’s study door, but Char had other ideas. She slung the door open and charged right into the room, and Drew was not about to try and stop the woman—whose trust he had just won back—from doing exactly as she pleased.

  Charlotte was prepared for battle and to give the Duke of Danby a set-down the likes of which she doubted he had ever endured. She was not, however, prepared for the sight of her father lounged in a leather chair, cheeks rosy, eyes glowing, a glass of―from the amber color―whiskey clutched in his hand and the Duke of Danby doubled over in laughter in the chair beside her father.

  “Father!” Charlotte gasped, too shocked to form any other words.

  “Grandfather,” Drew said sharply beside her.

  The duke shot up faster than she had ever seen him move, his whiskey splashing over the side of his glass and onto his Hessians.

  Her father jumped out of his chair, set his own glass down, and whipped out a handkerchief, which he promptly used to clean off the duke’s shoes. “No harm, Your Grace,” her father assured the duke.

  The duke waved a hand for her father to stand. “Milne, I’ve told you before, there’s no need for such extreme mothering.”

  The tips of her father’s ears reddened. “Charlotte.” He came towards her and embraced her in a hug. Her arms circled his waist, and she held on tightly, afraid she was dreaming and her father was truly not the picture of perfect health that she was seeing. “Father,” she murmured against his chest. “I thought you were terribly ill.”

  Her father gave her a reassuring hug then pulled back from her. “As you can see, I’m perfectly healthy.”

  “Yes, I see,” Charlotte mumbled, turning to eye the duke. “Your Grace, your letter said—”

  “That your father was ill,” the duke finished and rose from his chair. Charlotte had to look up to see his face. Even at his ripened age, the duke was still an imposing figure.

  “I do apologize for the worry my letter must have caused you, Miss Milne, but it was the only way your father and I could think to get you home.”

  “What?” she and Drew spoke in unison.

  The duke motioned to Drew. “Come here, Hardwick,” the duke commanded, calling Drew by his more formal title. “I want to make sure you’ve truly changed, as your cousin seems to think, before I allow you to marry Miss Milne. Assuming you’ve already had the good sense to ask for her hand once again.”

  “My cousin?” Drew muttered. “Which cousin?”

  Lord Edgeworth moved out of the shadow of the doorway and into the glowing light of the study. “That’d be me.”

  Charlotte looked from her father to the duke. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll second that sentiment,” Drew said, putting his arm around her and drawing her close.

  The duke smiled. “I can see you’ve changed, grandson. Last time I saw you, you would have jumped to do my bidding. I’m pleased to see you’ve finally become the man I suspected you could be.”

  “Thank you,” Drew said, squeezing Charlotte’s waist.

  “And you, Miss Milne, I saw you several times at the theatre, and now up close I can see even clearer that you’re strong enough to be part of this family and to stand up to Hardwick’s boorish father.”

  Charlotte gaped at the duke for a moment before her head cleared enough to actually speak. “You mean you want me to marry Drew?”

  The duke came to her and took one of her hands. “My dear, I want nothing more. Had I been here and not abroad when my son made such a mess of your lives, I would have put a stop to the fool’s meddling. As it was, you were both gone and all the damage done by the time I returned. It took me awhile to locate you both. And I couldn’t have done it without Edgeworth’s help. You both owe him a great debt.”

  Charlotte smiled at Lord Edgeworth. “It seems I truly did misjudge you.”

  “Don’t fret, Charlotte. May I call you Charlotte, since we’ll soon be related?”

  She quickly nodded, pleased that it didn’t seem to bother Drew’s cousin or grandfather in the least that they would soon be related to a butler’s daughter.

  “I’ve been misjudged before, and I suspect I’ll be misjudged again.”

  Drew stepped towards his cousin. “Have you been spying on Charlotte and me this entire year and sending reports back to Grandfather?”

  “See what I mean?” Lord Edgeworth asked nudging Charlotte. “I’m being misjudged again. Spying is such a nasty word, Drew. When I finally located you, and in turn your illustrious soon-to-be wife, I superbly watched over you and kept an eye on her while biding my time until you got your head out of the bottle. I should have known we’d have to concoct a plan to come fetch you. Lucky for you I came when I did.”

  Drew snorted. “I’m not sure I would call your self-declared guardianship role superb. Charlotte almost married another man.”

  Lord Edgeworth shrugged. “Entirely your fault. I cannot be everywhere at once. I do have my own life, sad as it may be, to live. Appearances to keep and so forth. Some things did slip by me.”

  “Say,” Drew growled at Lord Edgeworth. “Did you know Charlotte had not married Salisbury?”

  “Of course,” Lord Edgeworth replied.

  Drew’s eyes narrowed. “I should punch you for allowing me to believe she had married Salisbury.”

  “You should thank me. You too, Charlotte.”

  “Me?”

  Lord Edgeworth nodded. “I doubt Drew will ever fail you again after having truly believed he lost you because of his own foolhardiness.”

  “That’s true,” Drew said simply. “Thank you, I suppose. But it’s funny that you of all people saw fit to teach me a lesson on love and loss.”

  “Not so funny as you’d think,” Lord Edgeworth murmured.

  Charlotte glanced sh
arply at Lord Edgeworth. There it was again―that hint of something more beneath the man’s indifferent or rather rakish attitude. He cared about something greatly, and she suspected that something was a woman.

  “Someone ought to inform Miss Marchinson that Salisbury is not married after all,” Drew said.

  “I told her when we saw her home.”

  “Seems you thought of everything.”

  Lord Edgeworth winked at Charlotte. “I’m a good dog. All I did was take commands from grandfather and Milne.”

  Charlotte sincerely doubted that was all Lord Edgeworth did, but she let his self-effacing comment pass and instead turned an accusing eye toward Lord Edgeworth, then her father and lastly the duke. “You three worried me sick.” She faced her father, with her hands on her hips. “Could you have thought of something less dramatic to bring me to heel besides telling me you were dying?”

  “We did try to think of something else…” Her father trailed off looking sheepish.

  “But nothing came to mind,” the duke inserted and pressed a piece of paper into Drew’s hand.

  “What’s this?” Drew opened the paper, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Grandfather, you’re brilliant, but who will marry us?”

  Charlotte took the paper Drew handed her, her breath catching at the special marriage license the duke had somehow procured. It was really going to happen. Soon she would be Drew’s wife.

  “Henry!” the duke bellowed.

  Charlotte jumped at the unusual outburst from the usually reserved man. A loud clomping grew near, and Vicar Whitton came rushing into the room, bible in hand, hair disheveled and shirttail hanging out.

  The duke waved an impatient hand. “Hurry, man. They’re both here, and I’m ready for bed. Marry them at once.”

  “Now?” Charlotte gasped, her hands going to her disheveled hair then down to tidy the rumpled material of her gown. “We can’t. I mean to say…” Charlotte looked at Drew. “I look a fright.”