The Danger in Tempting an Earl

by Sophie Barnes

  “I’m happy to hear it,” Lord Roxberry said. He then shoved Laura aside and crossed the floor to the door. Shutting it, he turned the lock and pocketed the key. He glared at Laura. A cold shiver slithered along her spine. “You have a great deal of explaining to do,” he said as he addressed her. Crossing his arms, he jerked his chin toward a chair. “I suggest you sit down this instant.”

  Lucien had been to war. He had fought against the French and watched his countrymen drop like flies, fully aware that he might be next. Hell, he’d sat at his brother’s bedside, holding his hand as he’d drawn his last breath. Even so, nothing had ever terrified him as much as the thought of losing Katherine, so when he’d heard her scream as he’d made his way back upstairs from his study, he’d feared the worst.

  His fear, however, had since turned to fury. By God, he’d never been as angry with anyone as he now was with Lady Trapleigh. He had a good mind to wring her neck for what she’d just done. Thankfully, he’d arrived on the scene just in time to prevent the worst possible outcome. He shuddered as he picked up the tinderbox on the mantelpiece and lit an oil lamp. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked Katherine. She didn’t look at all well as she sat there on her bed with the coverlet pulled up around her. Grabbing the jug of water that stood on the dresser, he poured a glass and handed it to her. He noted that her hand trembled as she took it, her lips quivering ever so slightly as she placed the glass to her mouth and drank. The incident had clearly shaken her, and with good reason. Muttering an oath, Lucien turned toward Lady Trapleigh. “You’d better start talking,” he growled.

  “I think the letter speaks for itself,” she said, raising her chin with defiance, “and since I know you must have read it by—­”

  “The hell it does,” Lucien bellowed. He would not allow such arrogance to pass. Not when the woman before him had just made a third attempt on Katherine’s life.

  Lady Trapleigh drew back, visibly stunned by his outburst. “Then by all means, tell me what you wish to know,” she said, sounding annoyingly put out.

  The nerve!

  He ought to fetch the constable this instant and be done with it. In fact, it was what he should have done in the first place, back at Cresthaven. Devil take it though, he was curious. He wanted her to explain the letter, and he sensed that so did Katherine.

  “What I wish to know,” Lucien bit out, “is why you’re so eager for Lady Crossby to die, and what Lord Crossby’s role has been in all of this.”

  Lady Trapleigh straightened her shoulders, her pride testing Lucien’s patience to the fullest. Lacing her fingers together in her lap, she looked first at Katherine and then at Lucien. “Lady Crossby’s late husband didn’t marry for love, for if he would have done, he would have married me.” She turned her head toward Katherine. “Indeed, the poor man could barely stomach his wife.”

  “I am well aware of it, though I fail to comprehend his reason for deceiving me,” Katherine said. “Once we were married, I saw very little of my husband, and in those rare instances when we did meet, he was always angry with me. All charm and kindness toward me vanished on our wedding night. After that, he chose only to see me in the dark, for brief encounters necessitated by his duty toward the Crossby lineage.”

  “I know,” Lady Trapleigh murmured.

  Lucien felt ill just thinking about it.

  “The truth of your failed marriage is simple enough,” Lady Trapleigh said, “for you see, you were just a means to an end—­a woman unfortunate enough to be loved by the wrong man.”

  Katherine frowned, and Lucien straightened himself. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Lady Trapleigh offered a smile. “The real target in all of this, Lord Roxberry, has always been you.”

  This got Lucien’s full attention. “Lady Trapleigh,” he said, his patience wearing thin. “I would appreciate it if you would explain the entire mess to us, as opposed to speaking in riddles. What the devil do you mean?”

  “To be blunt, Lord Crossby despised you—­always has,” Lady Trapleigh told him.

  “But he and I never socialized with each other, even though we were neighbors. I just can’t think of a single thing I could have done to deserve such wrath.”

  “You might not think so, and yet you did, always managing to be one step ahead of him in everything. His father whipped him for it, you know—­for not doing as well as you at Eton, for never winning any of the races in which you also competed. You’ve beaten him at everything his entire life—­even in the army, where you were promoted to captain, forcing him to endure the greatest humiliation of all by making him follow your command.

  “Eventually, his failure as a man, not only in the eyes of his father but in his own, began to consume him. Achieving that honorable discharge from the army served a very important purpose though. It allowed him to return home before you so he could take from you the one person he knew you cared about more than life itself—­Lady Crossby. He charmed her in every conceivable way until she finally agreed to marry him—­pressured no doubt by her parents, who longed for their daughter to marry a titled gentleman. Once the vows had been spoken, he deliberately set out to destroy her.”

  Bloody hell! This was madness if it was true.

  Lucien glanced across at Katherine, who looked just as stunned as he felt. “I had no idea,” he said.

  “I doubt anyone else knew how deep his resentment toward you ran. Even with his dying breath, Charles’s father accused him of being less of a man than you and a great disappointment to the Crossby name. I imagine it must have been very difficult for Charles. He felt like a failure, and he blamed you for that.”

  “Tell me, how long were you his mistress?” Katherine asked.

  Lady Trapleigh attempted a smile, but it was a sad one. “Lord Crossby and I became lovers a few years before you married him, and we remained so throughout your marriage. We loved each other, and I accepted the choice he made to marry you, even though I wished he would have married me instead—­especially when I discovered that I was carrying his child.” She laughed bitterly. “It’s a pity things turned out the way they did, for I do believe we could have been a happy family if it hadn’t been for Crossby’s deep-rooted need for revenge.”

  “What I don’t understand is why you would try to kill Lady Crossby now. With Crossby dead, there’s no need for . . .” He stopped himself and considered everything he knew. His mouth dropped. “You still want to fulfill his wish by preventing me from marrying her. But that’s . . . that’s . . .”

  “Love,” Lady Trapleigh said.

  Lucien shook his head in disbelief. “No. It’s insane! Have you no consideration for your son?”

  Lady Trapleigh shrugged. “He’s being raised at an estate close to the Welsh border by ­people who can offer him a proper future. His father was married and his mother is famous for having bedded half the men in England. The last thing that child needs is to be associated with me.” She shook her head, looking weary. “All I wanted was to grant Charles his final wish.”

  “Well, I can’t tell you how pleased I am by your lack of success,” Lucien stated as he took Lady Trap­leigh roughly by the arm, pulled her to her feet and steered her straight toward the door. “You can look forward to a lengthy sojourn at Newgate now.”

  “Is it finally over?” Katherine asked Lucien when he returned to the bedroom after ensuring that Lady Trapleigh had been escorted off the premises by two Bow Street Runners.

  “I believe so,” he said, “for us at least.” Sinking down next to her, he pulled her against him and she instinctively breathed him in, that familiar scent of sandalwood filling her senses.

  It felt wonderful to be held in his strong embrace . . . safe. “It was lucky that you arrived when you did.” Turning in Lucien’s arms, Katherine gazed into his eyes. “I could have died.”

  “I know, my sweet,” he whispered gently as he p
laced a tender kiss upon her forehead. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here with you when she arrived.”

  “You couldn’t fall asleep?”

  “No.” Twining his fingers with hers, he raised her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss upon her knuckles. “So much has happened lately, I fear my mind was incapable of rest. Will you please forgive me?”

  “Always,” she murmured.

  His lips brushed hers, and in the next instant, she felt his hand caressing her thigh. After being shot at and kidnapped, she could finally enjoy being loved without fearing for her life, and as she sank further into Lucien’s embrace, Katherine understood what it meant to be truly happy.

  Epilogue

  Two weeks later, after fetching Sophia home from Bath, Lucien swept Katherine across the ballroom floor of Darwich House, her skirts twirling about her legs as they moved in time to the waltz being played. They were not the only popular ­couple that evening, and there could be no denying that Lady Darwich had been crowned the luckiest hostess in Town. Only a week had passed since Lucien had married the love of his life by special license, so he was amused to discover that marrying a widow who’d almost been murdered by her late husband’s mistress was no longer the topic du jour—­not when the Duke of Kingsborough had just announced his betrothal to a woman who’d been nobody of consequence until it had been discovered that she was the Marquess of Deerhurst’s granddaughter. Lucien smiled at the thought and decided that he would have to get Kingsborough to tell him the details of that story later.

  And then of course there was Mr. Neville to consider. The fact that Lucien had only just heard of that scandal this very evening was a testament to how absorbed he’d been by his own troubles these past few weeks.

  Leading Katherine in a wide circle that took them past the orchestra, Lucien met her eyes. They were alight with wonder. “You seemed preoccupied just now,” she said, her cheeks dimpling as she spoke. “Any thoughts you’d care to share?”

  “I was just appreciating my own good fortune,” he confided. “I still fear that this is but a dream from which I’ll soon awaken.”

  “I hope not, for I would miss you terribly if that were the case.” She smiled, and his heart gave a little shudder.

  God, how he loved this woman.

  “Then perhaps I’d best keep dreaming,” he whispered as the dance drew to a close. Taking Katherine by the arm, he led her over to the refreshment table, where he offered her a glass of lemonade.

  “Congratulations on your wedding,” Mr. Goodard said as he approached. “I can’t say that it came as a surprise, but I am very happy for you both.”

  “So are Carlyle and Barrymore, I assure you,” Lucien said with a chuckle. “They both wagered on her ladyship and I tying the knot before the end of the Season—­placed their bets at White’s, you know.”

  “I say, I wish I would have been that predictive,” Mr. Goodard said.

  “You could always bet on yourself,” Katherine suggested with a hint of mischief. “How are things progressing with Lady Julie?”

  An expression of deep melancholia descended upon Mr. Goodard’s handsome face. “Alas, I cannot tell the lady’s mind. She has me quite perplexed, though I was relieved to discover that her interest in you, Roxberry, was a ruse. Still, I find it impossible to discern whether or not she looks favorably upon my attempts at flattery or if she’d rather be rid of me altogether.”

  “Mr. Goodard,” Katherine began sympathetically, “I believe—­”

  “Surely her intentions will become known with time,” Lucien said, deliberately cutting off his wife. He tried not to look at her just then, for he was well aware that she was probably scowling.

  “I’m sure you’re quite right,” Mr. Goodard said. “In the meantime, I shall see if she’d like to dance.”

  “Care to explain yourself?” Katherine asked as soon as Mr. Goodard was out of earshot.

  Lucien took a sip of his drink as he stared out over the ballroom. “Winning your hand wasn’t easy, my dear, but it was worth every effort. I daresay I’m doing Mr. Goodard a favor by not divulging the true nature of Lady Julie’s heart.”

  “And just when I thought you were being perfectly beastly,” Katherine murmured. “Your intentions prove you to be a veritable romantic.”

  He had no chance to respond when Lord and Lady Huntley walked up to them. “I must say that after everything, I had rather expected to attend a grand Society wedding. Imagine my disappointment when I heard you’d married in secret,” Lady Huntley said. She smiled adoringly at her husband as she added, “Would you be kind enough to pour me a glass of lemonade?”

  “Certainly,” Huntley said. He picked up an empty glass from a tray on the table and proceeded to do as his wife had asked, saying, “Please forgive her ladyship. What she meant to say was congratulations. Isn’t that right, my dear?” He handed Lady Huntley her glass.

  “My friend is well aware that I am thrilled on her behalf, isn’t that so, Lady Roxberry?” Lady Huntley smiled as her gaze shifted to Lucien. “I do believe she’s made an excellent match for herself. Truly, I couldn’t be happier.”

  “It’s kind of you to say so, my lady,” Lucien said, offering the countess a slight bow.

  Her smile never faltered as she added, “That said, I will personally have you skewered if you ever do anything to upset her.”

  A sound not entirely dissimilar to that of a strangled giggle escaped Katherine, while Huntley snorted in response. “At last her true nature is revealed,” he muttered.

  “Understood,” Lucien said, addressing Lady Huntley. To Lord Huntley he quietly murmured, “You wife has quite a vicious bite.”

  Huntley nodded. “And I hear that yours can take out a man with a vase.”

  Lucien bit back a smile, his forehead creasing as his brows drew together. “Should we live in fear?”

  “Just treat her like a princess and you’ll be fine,” Huntley said.

  “You do realize that we’re standing right here, don’t you?” Lady Huntley asked, her arms crossed as she eyed both gentlemen.

  “Heaven forbid we dare to forget it,” Huntley said, but when his wife opened her mouth, undoubtedly intending to make another rejoinder, her husband smoothly stopped her by asking if she’d do him the honor of partnering with him for the next set.

  “Would you care to follow suit?” Lucien asked Katherine when they were once again alone.

  She nodded her consent. “Just as long as you’re not issuing your invitation out of concern for your own head.”

  “Not at all,” Lucien said. “I am merely trying to protect Lady Darwich’s crystal.”

  Katherine laughed, her dark curls swaying as she shook her head with merriment. “You really are incorrigible, you know.”

  Taking her hand in his, Lucien led Katherine into a country dance. “I’m beginning to realize as much,” he said with a wink.

  “Roxberry,” a female voice called once the dance had ended and Lucien was leading Katherine away from the dance floor. He recognized it immediately and was therefore not the least bit surprised to find his grandmother coming toward them.

  She was looking quite elegant in a plum-colored evening gown, her hair wrapped neatly in a turban to match. “May I suggest that you keep your passion for your wife in check or you’ll have no choice but to run outside and cool off?” There was an edge of mischief to her tone.

  Lucien heard Katherine wince beside him, or was that him who’d made that sound? Certainly his grandmother was known for being bold, so he really ought not be surprised by such a statement. And yet he was. They were out in public, for heaven’s sake! He coughed to conceal his slight embarrassment. “We were merely dancing,” he stated. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  Hester Marvaine, Dowager Countess of Roxberry, gazed back at him unblinkingly. “You were looking at her as if you were quite prepared to gob
ble her up right there on the dance floor.”

  “I most certainly was not,” Lucien protested.

  “You most certainly were,” his dear grandmother insisted.

  Katherine tugged at Lucien’s arm as if hoping to extricate herself so she could escape. He wouldn’t allow that. If he was to suffer his grandmother’s candor, then by God, so would she—­for good and for worse and all that. He grinned.

  “What’s so funny?” his grandmother asked.

  “You are, of course.” The matriarch frowned. Clearly she did not approve of that notion. “After all, considering all the stories you’ve told me of your younger years, I cannot help but wonder if you’re not being a tiny bit hypocritical.”

  Katherine gasped. “Roxberry,” she hissed. “Apologize to your grandmamma.” She turned toward the lady in question. “Please, my lady, I’m so terribly sorry.”

  “Thank you, my dear,” the dowager said, her spine straightening a fraction, “but Roxberry does make a fine point, though I would like to remind you that things were different back then.”

  “How so?” Lucien asked, unable to hide his mirth. He was having a wonderful time needling her, and the fact that she allowed it was what had always made him love her as dearly as he did. His mother would never have been so tolerant.

  “Well, for one thing, there was a revolution going on,” his grandmother said.

  Lucien quirked a brow. “I hardly see how French politics would have had any bearing on your discretion in regard to flirtation.”

  His grandmother sighed as if he’d been the most obtuse person on the planet, and then to confirm the notion, she said, “No, I don’t suppose you would.”

  Katherine groaned.

  Deciding to salvage what little affection his grandmother held for him after such a discussion, Lucien reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. “Will you dance with me later?” he asked. “Perhaps a quadrille?”

  His grandmother chuckled. “Only if you promise to remain on your best behavior. I won’t allow you to look at me like that. As a matter of fact, I’ll stomp on your feet if you do.”