My Irresistible Earl

by Gaelen Foley

  “He wants children,” she confessed in soft-toned anguish to her friend. “He not only needs an heir, but actually wants to be a father. I know him. Family is highly important to him. The doting way he talks about his nieces and nephews, and he’s so good with Thomas…he wants lots of babies. Daughters and sons.”

  “But so do you.” Delilah stared at her. “You always say you wished you had more children.”

  “Delilah—I’m almost thirty years old,” she forced out painfully.

  “Still young enough to give him an heir!”

  “Look how long it took for me to conceive the first time!”

  “That was not your fault!”

  “I can’t be totally sure of that—and neither can Jordan. Even the accoucheur would not confirm it in any certain terms.”

  “That’s because your husband was the one paying him,” Delilah pointed out. “He’s not going to come out and call a peer of the realm impotent if he’s paying the bill,” she whispered.

  “Look at these girls,” Mara said bleakly, shaking her head as a trio of bright-eyed debutantes in pastels went hurrying past, giggling to each other, all innocence and mischief, trying to find their sea legs in Society. “Beautiful, young, healthy.”

  Any of these fresh-faced little darlings would fall down on their knees and give God thanks if the Earl of Falconridge offered marriage. They were born and bred to provide a noble lord with his expected brood.

  “Oh,” Delilah forced out abruptly. “I suppose I see what you mean. How depressing.”

  “Quite.” Mara folded her arms across her chest and leaned back wearily against the wall.

  At length, she shrugged, for what else could she do?

  “I had my turn as one of them, and I ended up with Pierson. There’s no going back now to change the past.”

  Delilah gazed sympathetically at her.

  She blinked away a threat of tears at her cynical friend’s rare tender look and summoned up a wry half smile.

  Delilah put her arm around Mara’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, darling. You were truly robbed.”

  “If only I had waited another six months back then, then maybe—”

  “Don’t do this to yourself. You had no hope that he was coming back, and that’s his fault. Besides, if you hadn’t married Pierson, you’d have never birthed that adorable little monkey of yours, now, would you?”

  “True,” she agreed with a low sniffle.

  “Anyway, I don’t see why you mean to take this lying down. This air of stoic resignation doesn’t suit you, my dear.”

  “I have no choice but to accept his decision. It’s his life.”

  “It’s your life, too! I thought you were done letting a man tell you when to sit or stand or breathe after Pierson died.”

  Mara looked at her uncertainly.

  “The Mara who came out of mourning was a free woman ready to fight for what she wants. You haven’t lost your dream man yet,” Delilah murmured. “You’ve still got him, it sounds to me. It’s not as though he’s ended your affair?”

  “No, he said he just wanted time.”

  “Well, maybe it’s time you remind him of where his heart really lies. Hang convention! If he loves you, why should you not be his wife, as you should have been from the start?”

  Mara bit her lip, considering the question. “It seems a lot to ask of him.”

  “Do you really think he could ever be happy without you? You’d really let him marry the wrong person like you did and end up just as miserable as you were with Pierson? Anyone can see you two belong together. For heaven’s sake, if I were you, I would gird my loins for battle and fight for ’im!”

  Mara couldn’t help smiling. “You would, too, wouldn’t you?”

  “Sure as blazes!” Delilah took a drink of wine.

  “I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s better just to leave him alone until he’s worked it all out in his head?”

  “What, leave it to a man to figure out how he feels? You might as well ask him to knit you a stocking, darling.”

  “But I don’t want to crowd him.”

  “Don’t be daft! You need to manage him! Do you really think any male out there actually knows what he wants? No,” Delilah answered her own question firmly. “They are babies in such things. They have to be shown. If you give him this ‘time’ he thinks he wants, and let him go off on his own for too long, it’s going to seem like you don’t care. Take it from me, Mara. I played it too cool with my love, and I lost him.”

  Mara looked at her in surprise. “No! Surely not. I know you two are still at war, but I can’t believe that Cole is lost to you.”

  “He holds me in the utmost contempt now,” Delilah informed her, looking away. Her shrug held only the thinnest veneer of nonchalance. “It’s all my own fault. I pushed him away until he quit coming back. I suppose I just wanted to make sure he really loved me before I’d admit I cared for him…and by then, it was too late.”

  “Oh, Delilah.”

  “Just let him know he’s in your thoughts. Please? That you miss his company? Just enough to remind him that he misses you, too?”

  Mara shook her head. “I don’t even know where to find him tonight.”

  Delilah gave her a pointed look, then scanned the room. “Ah! I see someone who very well might know! Leave this to me.” With a naughty flare of her eyebrows, Delilah glided off into the crowd before Mara could stop her.

  Across the ballroom, she could see her elegant friend sidling up to the beaming, smooth-cheeked “Golden” Ball-Hughes. That unlicked cub had no idea that the worldly widow was about to make him her toy.

  But fifty scheming mamas in the ballroom looked daggers at Delilah—and not for the first time—as she led the young Midas back to where Mara still stood.

  “Look what I found, Lady Pierson. Isn’t he the most charming young fellow?” She flicked a piece of lint off his formal black tail coat and clung adoringly to his arm, while the Golden Ball completely missed her ironic undertone.

  “What a relief to see you ladies here this evening,” the rich young rakehell confided. “I can’t endure all these giggling ninnies fresh from the schoolroom.”

  “Bless you, Mr. Ball-Hughes, for saying that,” Delilah crooned, sending Mara a gloating smile.

  “It’s true,” he vowed in heated earnest. “I’ve always found older women so much more enticing.” He leered at them; Mara and Delilah both strove not to laugh at the cub.

  “Tell me, darling, I see the Regent here, but where are the rest of your friends? Are they playing cards tonight? We thought it might be amusing to pop in on them.”

  “Er, ladies—” The lad began to color at Delilah’s expectant look. “That will not be possible, I’m afraid.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Y-you cannot go to such a place as where they are this evening.” He looked from one to the other. “It is not a-a suitable establishment—for ladies.”

  “Ah, they’re at a brothel?” Delilah asked bluntly.

  “Well, er, yes, to be quite honest,” he stammered, turning red, while Mara absorbed this news, aghast.

  “And Lord Falconridge is there?” Delilah pursued.

  He nodded. “It was his idea.”

  “Really?” Mara uttered, frozen by this news.

  “My, my,” Delilah said, concealing her shared indignation from the Golden Ball. “What is this wicked school of Venus called, my love? Tell us where it is, hm?”

  “Mrs. Staunton, you cannot mean to go there!” The lad was scandalized, glancing from Mara to Delilah.

  “Why ever not? Do you think I’ve never been to one before?”

  “You are jesting!” he whispered.

  Still in shock, Mara hoped she was, but knowing Delilah, she probably wasn’t.

  “We are women of the world, Mr. Ball-Hughes. Do you not know we are free to do as we please?”

  “You are serious?” he murmured, fascinated. “You really mean to see the place? Because if you real
ly want me to…”

  “Oh, would you? Unless you have some objection to being seen with us two ladies under your protection?”

  “Well, not at all,” he answered heartily with another schoolboy blush. “I was planning on joining the others there myself in a bit. Oh, why the devil not!”

  Delilah laughed gaily, and suddenly the boy millionaire was beaming at the idea of walking into that notorious place, where all his friends were drinking and carousing, with two attractive worldly women on his arms.

  Mara was feeling slightly sickened by the revelation of Jordan’s whereabouts. “Mrs. Staunton, this does not sound entirely wise to me.”

  “One moment, darling,” Delilah said to the Golden Ball. She trailed a playful finger down his smooth cheek, then turned away and faced Mara’s ominous scowl.

  “I don’t know about this. I might kill him if I see him with some harlot.”

  “It’s still early, love. They’re probably just making a party of it for now. You’ve got to show up and make sure he doesn’t—do something stupid.”

  “He already has,” she shot back, folding her arms across her chest. “That liar! Time, indeed! To think about his feelings!”

  “Listen to me,” Delilah whispered. “He’s a man. That’s what they do. You have to take control if you intend to keep him in line.”

  Furious, Mara growled under her breath, shaking her head.

  “Come, Mara! It’s bad enough to worry about losing your cher ami to some virgin bride, but for heaven’s sake, don’t surrender him to a courtesan! You don’t want him catching their diseases, do you, darling? That would ruin all your fun. I say we go and ambush him! Oh, I can’t wait to see his face when you walk in.”

  “I agree with you on that. I’m sure he’ll feel quite sheepish. But after that,” she added uneasily, “he could be furious.”

  “You’re the one who should be angry! If he takes it badly, just pretend it was all a lark. At least you’ll have your answer. Come on, let’s get out of here. This ball is utterly dull, anyway, and I can’t stand any more of these little debutantes tripping over their own skirts.”

  Mara still hesitated. “I don’t know. I don’t want it to look like I’m checking up on him.”

  “Mara, this man told you he needed time to sort out his feelings, and now he’s off at a brothel? What the devil is that? I’ll confront him myself if you’re too scared!”

  “I’m not scared, Delilah, I’m just trying to respect his wishes.”

  “Oh. Like he’s respecting you?” she retorted. “Mara, please, consider what I’m about to say to you, as your friend. If you are seriously thinking of marrying Lord Falconridge at some point in the future, of giving up your rare and cherished freedom for this man, then you had better take a frank look at how he spends his time when you’re not there. You know I’m right! You married Pierson without truly knowing what sort of man he was, and how did that turn out?”

  Mara pressed her lips together.

  “Indeed,” Delilah said pointedly. “Now, I’m not going to let you make the same mistake twice. We’re going to that dreadful place, you’re going to look right at your precious Falconridge knee deep in his mischief, and see for yourself if he is really what you want. I know you put him up on a pedestal; but don’t forget, he is a ranking member of the Inferno Club. Something just doesn’t add up with him! You know it as well as I. At the very least, find out who he really is before you pledge your life to him. Well?”

  “Well!” she exclaimed, overwhelmed by her friend’s dire warning. “What more can I say to that?”

  It was either the best advice or the worst she had ever received, but Mara found she could not argue with a word of it. She thrust her misgivings aside and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go, then.”

  Delilah sent her a hearty look of approval, then pivoted. “Mr. Ball-Hughes, my dear? We are ready!”

  The handsome lad smiled slyly. “Ladies: Follow me.”

  The three of them slipped out of the dull, stultifying ballroom, then their cheerful young friend assisted them into Delilah’s carriage.

  As they set out for the school of Venus, the prospect of seeing Jordan at last, after so many days apart, made Mara’s heart pound.

  The news of his location was vexing, indeed, but she had to admit her life had been a dull, dry desert without him all week. Maybe Delilah was right. Maybe a little visit from her when he least expected it would keep him on the straight and narrow if he was thinking of straying.

  When she recollected their erotic night together a week ago, she could not imagine he’d seek the embrace of some vile, diseased harlot over her to satisfy his needs.

  For her part, Mara had need of him again as the thought of Jordan in her bed filled her with hungry yearning. It had been too long since her last dose of him.

  Surely he missed her, too.

  As the carriage rolled on through the dark streets of London, she found she really could not believe he was a bounder, nor would she assume so, unless she saw it with her own eyes.

  He was probably just there enjoying the raucous company of his male friends. He must remain innocent until proven guilty.

  “Here, put this on.” Delilah handed Mara a black satin demimask that she produced from the folding compartment underneath the seat.

  “What, you just happened to have these in your carriage?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  Mara laughed. “Why, Delilah?”

  “Because that’s how it’s done! Oh, darling, you still have a lot to learn about being a merry widow.” Delilah’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she looked away, directing her gaze to their escort. “My dear Mr. Ball-Hughes, if this is one of those clubs where particular practices take place, you had better tell us now.”

  “Practices?” Mara asked with a curious glance from one to the other. “What practices?”

  “Never mind, dear. He knows what I mean. Anything I’ll need to explain to our pure little friend here?”

  He laughed. “I’ve heard they’ve got an opium room upstairs, but besides that, nothing, er, out of the ordinary. How do you know about such things, Mrs. Staunton?” the young rakehell drawled, leering at her in thorough approval.

  Delilah rolled her eyes.

  “What practices?” Mara demanded.

  Her friend just looked at her.

  “Right,” she murmured. “Maybe I don’t want to know.”

  After a short drive, they arrived at a shabby brick building a stone’s throw from the London docks.

  The Satin Slipper.

  Mara stared dubiously at it through the carriage window. “You’re telling me some of the most powerful men in England are inside this low place?”

  “Oh, yes. I daresay even the Regent has been here.”

  “No!” Mara turned to him in surprise. “Not His Royal Highness? I thought so much higher of him than this.”

  “Well, I could be wrong,” he said. “But I’m certain every one of his brothers has visited here.”

  “Well, that I believe.” The royal dukes were known as the most barbaric scoundrels.

  “Shall we, ladies?” Mr. Ball-Hughes stepped down elegantly from the coach and turned to hand them down.

  “This should be amusing,” said Delilah, accepting his white-gloved hand first and alighting from her coach with a studied air of boredom.

  “Or a nightmare,” Mara muttered as she followed suit.

  Her heart pounded as the Golden Ball led them to the entrance.

  “It’s all right. They’re with me,” he proudly told the pair of giant bullies at the door.

  Mara pulled her cloak closer around her body, hiding her ladylike ball gown, while her face colored with nervous embarrassment behind her half mask.

  “There you are, lads.” Their young escort tucked a very large bill into the guard’s breast pocket. The towering man stepped aside, and the Golden Ball led the way into the dimly lit brothel.

  “Very nice,” Delilah
remarked, pressing the other gladiator-sized guard out of her way with a sensual caress on the man’s chest. “Step aside, boys. I’ll show your little hussies how it’s done.”

  Mara scoffed at her saucy boast and followed Ball-Hughes into the large, gaudy, and surprisingly crowded parlor of the brothel.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought, slightly revolted by the unwashed stink of the place, which someone had tried to cover up by dousing it with horrid cheap perfume. Walking in slowly, she marveled at the half-naked women lounging languidly amid the men all about the room

  But in a heartbeat, she was glad she had agreed to this adventure, for she suddenly spied Jordan on the far end of the room.

  The moment she spotted him, a huge sigh of relief arose from the depths of her being, leaving her instantly reassured. He was simply talking to Albert Carew, the Duke of Holyfield.

  The two men were engrossed in conversation at the bar.

  You see? she told herself as a smile stole over her face, and the dread dissolved from her heart. How could she have doubted him? As soon as she saw him, everything felt normal again, and she feasted her eyes on the sight of his lean, hard frame.

  Of course he wasn’t off with some hired woman. All of her fears suddenly seemed as trivial as a gust of wind—and blew away. Their departure left her hoping anew that he wouldn’t be angry she had come. He was bound to be more than a little surprised to see her there, but it was too late to turn back now. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  Trying to drum up a bit of Delilah’s flamboyant attitude, she squared her shoulders and sauntered in, heading for the oh-so-skilled seducer who had so ravished her just one week ago.

  To be sure, if he had need of a woman tonight, it was going to be her, not one of these indifferent hussies. He wouldn’t even have to pay her, she thought in wicked amusement.

  Then Mara set her sights on him. She’d had enough of this separation. Delilah was right. She’d fight for him.

  Time to go and claim her man.

  Chapter 16