The Earl of Her Dreams

by Anne Mallory

  Christian had met Palmer’s daughter. Nice enough girl, but not the one for him. That designation belonged to Kate.

  “No.”

  The marquess stroked his glass. “Oh, you will, and furthermore, you will do so with a smile on your face.”

  “Why the sudden interest in my wedded state?”

  “Because even if you are a worthless son, there is still a possibility for the future generations. They will still be of my seed.” The marquess’s face twisted.

  “Most regrettably, of course, as they will carry Uncle Charlie’s legacy as well,” Christian said smoothly, trying to stay calm.

  Christian closely resembled his uncle on his mother’s side. While his father had blamed Christian for the death of his mother, his uncle had blamed his father. Very vocally.

  Somehow it seemed fitting that he looked like his uncle. The marquess had always hated his brother-in-law. Still did, in fact, even with him four years in the ground. Christian could only thank the fact that his uncle had hated his father with equal vigor and had left all his assets to Christian, as a final twist of the knife. The largesse had emancipated Christian from his father in a way that he never would have been able to achieve otherwise.

  “Always one to state the obvious, Christian. It is one of your many failings.”

  “Being born to this family has to be by far my worst.” He had long since mastered the bored tones that drove his father to drink.

  The marquess’s hands gripped the glass tighter. “You will marry Palmer’s daughter. The betrothal contract will be here in the week. You will sign it, and only then will I return your friend’s journal.”

  Christian unclenched his muscles. He had known something like this was coming, but it still burned.

  Bargaining for time and trying to sound as unconcerned as he could, Christian said, “I need to speak with Anthony, of course.”

  “Of course, go speak with your friend. I expect you back here by three. Then we will discuss how things will be from now on.”

  Christian made his feet take him toward the door and back to his room.

  Kate looked up as he entered and moved toward him. “What is going on?”

  Christian looked at her, and she placed a hand on his sleeve as if to comfort him. He pulled her close and hugged her to him, her arms automatically circling behind.

  He had a lot of maneuvering to accomplish in a very short amount of time. He pulled back and lifted her chin. “Kate, I need you to stay here. I’m going to talk to Anthony, who lives a short distance from here. I’ll be gone for an hour or two.”

  “May I come with you?”

  He wanted her to, damn but he did. But this was something he needed to do himself. “No, but promise me that you will not leave this room. Promise me.”

  She bit her lip and nodded. He gently touched her cheeks and kissed her. “I love you, Kate. Everything will be fine. I’ll explain later.”

  She nodded again, and he hoped that the love he saw reflected there was enough. That she would continue to look at him that way in one year, in ten years. That he wasn’t doomed to be a disappointment to all those he loved.

  Chapter 22

  If you find love, grab on to it with both hands and never let go.

  George Simon

  to Kate, age seventeen

  “The marquess said you were to come with us.”

  Kate looked warily at the two brawny men. They were wearing the livery of the house, but they looked like hired muscle. “Why?”

  “Don’t ask questions, just come with us.”

  She shook her head. She had no idea what was going on, but she was damned if she was leaving, especially after Christian had looked at her so seriously and told her to stay in the room. “No. I’ll just wait for the earl to return. But thank you for the offer.”

  “It wasn’t an offer, bitch. Now come with us.”

  “Well, I’m definitely not going with you now.”

  “You are, and you will.”

  The man doing the talking stepped forward. Kate took an immediate step back and looked for a weapon. The man was across the room and had grabbed both her arms before she had a chance to fully lift the table lamp. It shattered across the wooden floor as he wrenched one of her arms behind her back.

  “You are coming with us, and then we are going to contact your brother in London and let him take care of you, just like family should.”

  Kate wondered if this was a personal servant to the marquess, or if all the servants were infected with this odd, hostile madness. And how did they know about her brother?

  The man had her out the door in a matter of seconds. As he half pushed, half carried her down the hall—she was kicking and hissing for all she was worth—the marquess emerged from a room with Donald Desmond in tow. Desmond looked the worse for wear.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed. His presence explained how the marquess knew about her brother. Freewater could have heard one of their more lively conversations if he’d been intent on listening, and she had little doubt that Desmond had plied him for all the information he could after they had left. Freewater had been well on his way to drunk. Damn it!

  Desmond shot her the usual look of hatred, but it was tempered with fear. It looked as if he too had been treated to the marquess’s impeccable hospitality.

  “Mr. Desmond here was found lurking around the grounds. We don’t like spies or poachers in these parts, but Mr. Desmond assures me that he was just trying to follow my son, the Earl of Canley.”

  Desmond nodded fiercely.

  “I assured Mr. Desmond that though it was my right to punish my son, if he tried to do the same, I would take action. We can’t have the house shamed any more than already threatened, now can we? And Mr. Desmond, though kind to share his knowledge of the past week’s events, including yours, is now going to forget ever having witnessed any of it. Aren’t you, Mr. Desmond?”

  Desmond nodded even more vigorously.

  “Wouldn’t want that barrister’s post in London jeopardized in any way, or to have charges filed against you, would we?”

  Desmond shook his head, and a bit of spittle flew from his mouth. She couldn’t work up much sympathy for him.

  “Stewart, please see Mr. Desmond out.”

  The other servant grabbed Desmond’s shirtsleeve and pushed him down the hall.

  The marquess looked at her as if she were some odd thing stuck to his boot. This man was all that was wrong with the nobility. The corruption of power. That he would help Christian surprised her, although on second thought she supposed it was about self-pride.

  “Dressing as a boy, behaving like a common strumpet. I’m sure my son finds you fascinating. He has always enjoyed dirtying himself with his friends. But now that will all change. He is to marry someone of my choosing, and I need you to, how should I put this…disappear. Mr. Desmond, such a nice young man, told me about your brother’s search for you in London. I doubt it will be hard for us to locate him, even without your help. A young woman on the run with your”—he looked at her ear—“deformity will be easily identified. I’m a generous man, though. I’ll make you a deal. Give me your name and the name of your brother, and I will give you a thousand pounds. A heavy fortune for a girl like you. So speak up, what’s your name?”

  Kate made sure to enunciate properly. She was in the presence of nobility, after all. “Go. To. The. Devil.”

  Her arm was twisted back farther and she couldn’t help the cry of pain that escaped.

  “Now that wasn’t very nice. I will, however, give instructions for the offer to remain open until you reach London. I’m sure that you will see the wisdom of taking the money once you reach Town. Off with you now.”

  Kate’s last glimpse of the man was a cold smile and the back of his expensively tailored coat as he strode into a room. What was worse was that she could see the outline of a book in his pocket. Most assuredly Anthony’s journal.

  The servant began pushing her down the ha
ll again. Kate continued to resist, although some of her verve had given way. What was she doing? Surely she had reconciled by now that there was no way for them to be together. Wouldn’t it be better to just let Christian go? Let him marry a girl of his station? Take the marquess’s thousand pieces of silver and escape before they located her brother?

  She saw the image of Christian as he had leaned over her last night and whispered that he would never let her go, and recalled the feelings those words had produced inside. If she loved him, really loved him, she would fight for him. She would at least fight until Christian himself retracted those words. She would not allow some callous, unconscionable man make those decisions instead.

  Kate renewed her struggles with vigor. The servant swore vociferously and tried to get a better grasp on her arms. She splayed her legs in front of her, planting them on the doorway leading down the servants’ stairs. Lucky for her, it was a narrow entrance, and she could effectively stop them from moving forward.

  Unlucky for her, the servant was smarter than he looked. He released her. Without the force of him pushing her forward, she dropped to the ground like a stone. Pain radiated from her wrist up her right arm, and her rear didn’t feel much better. The servant bodily dragged her down the stairs.

  In pain and more than a little fatigued, Kate continued kicking out. If he got her in a carriage, her fate was sealed. If she could just wiggle from his grasp, she might be able to outrun him. Where she was going to run was a different matter.

  She was definitely in deep trouble.

  “Where are you taking Miss Kate?”

  The servant stopped abruptly, and Kate stopped struggling when she saw Tom standing in their path, arms crossed and looking incredibly intimidating. The sunlight formed a mock halo around his head. She swore she heard the angels start playing, so overwhelming was her relief.

  “Out of the way. Direct order from His Lordship.”

  “From the earl?”

  The servant sneered. “No, dimwit, from the marquess. Now get out of the way.”

  “’Fraid not. I only take orders from the earl. Seeing as you ain’t him, you’ll be letting Miss Kate go.”

  “Get out of the way, I say.”

  Kate winced as the servant grabbed her injured wrist.

  Tom went still. “You will let go of Miss Kate right this moment.”

  “No, now get out of the way!”

  Tom took two steps forward and his fist flew past her head. And just like that, she was released. She hugged Tom, who went rigid under the embrace. “Uh, Miss Kate?”

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  “Miss Kate, we need to leave. The earl will find us.”

  She nodded. “No, wait. Anthony’s journal. It’s inside.”

  “We can’t go back inside.”

  “Livery. Do you know where they keep the wash?”

  “Yes, it’s in the front room in the servants’ wing. Why would—oh no. Miss Kate, we don’t have time. We can’t fight all the servants. There are hundreds of them. The marquess will arrest all of us.”

  She nodded and pushed him toward the stables. “You’re right. You stay here. But I need you to undo the back of my dress.”

  “What?”

  “Please.”

  Tom studied her for a second, stone-faced, and then did as she asked.

  “Just ten minutes, Tom. If I’m not back in ten minutes, leave without me.”

  Kate tore back into the servants’ entrance and repeated every thanksgiving she had ever learned when she found the wash. Grabbing a few less than pristine items that she had seen the upstairs maids wear, she ran behind the privacy screen. She nudged the chamber pot aside and peeled off her dress, swapping it for the ill-fitting maid’s dress. She snatched a bonnet from the top of the pile and tied it as best she could. She just had to hope that no one chose to look any closer.

  Kate walked as slowly as she could manage through the halls so as not to draw attention. She retraced her steps back to the hall where she had seen the marquess. This was where luck would be needed. If luck was smiling on her, she would enter the room, retrieve the journal, and be out again before the marquess was any the wiser. If luck was not with her, well…perhaps she was courting stupidity.

  She spied a tea tray and lifted it. She had to rely solely on improvisation. She had no time to devise a plan.

  Her father had always said that those in love sometimes act a little stupidly. He had seemed quite amused when he had said it too. He had followed up by saying that if she ever had cause to act stupid in the name of love, she should count her blessings, for it was better to have been stupid than to not have been stupid at all. Wait. That wasn’t the saying.

  She reached the marquess’s study door before she could reorganize her thoughts. Ah, well. Time to be stupid.

  The knob was cold in her grip. She knocked softly.

  “Enter.”

  “Your tea, Your Lordship,” she said softly.

  “Put it on the desk and leave.”

  The marquess stood facing the window, arms crossed behind his back as he surveyed his domain, most likely secure in his knowledge that everything was going his way.

  Kate spied Anthony’s journal on the desk. Suddenly she felt light-headed and scared. Her breath came out in short, soundless gasps. Her stomach tied in so many knots that she didn’t know if she would ever get them undone.

  As she looked about nervously, she spotted another journal on a side table. It wasn’t identical, but it was dark, rich, and similar in size. If the marquess didn’t look carefully, he’d never notice the difference until it was too late. Kate walked forward and swept it up in her free hand.

  She set the tray on the desk and did a mental cheer as she quickly swapped the books and turned to leave. Luck was finally with her.

  “Wait.”

  Kate froze with her back to him. Every part of her body ready for flight.

  “Tell Stewart to report to me immediately after he returns.”

  “Yes, my lord,” she breathed.

  “Now get out.”

  “Yes, my lord.” She didn’t think she had ever been so happy to follow an order.

  She picked up her step as she hurried back downstairs and grabbed her clothing from the dirty clothes basket where she had hidden it. Not bothering to change, she raced to the stables to meet Tom, Benji, and Sally. She only hoped they hadn’t taken her advice to leave without her.

  Christian breathed deeply as he walked back into his room at Rosewood. His meeting with Anthony had been fraught with tension, and all he wished to do was crawl into bed with Kate and never leave.

  But that wasn’t going to happen. Not here. Especially not after the revelations of the past few hours, the past few days.

  How was he going to tell her? His hands shook a bit as he gripped the handle to the bedroom.

  Pushing it open, he was surprised to find the room empty.

  “Kate?”

  No answer.

  A wave of unease passed through him. He shouldn’t have left her here. No matter the outcome of the day’s events, leaving her here had been a bad decision.

  His eyes focused on the shattered table lamp near the bed, the pieces of glass strewn about the hardwood floor and nestled into the rich Oriental rug.

  He turned abruptly and strode back into the sitting room, forcing himself not to panic and run. Kate’s bag was on the floor behind a chair, her pelisse lying on top. He stared at them for a moment, then swiftly picked them up and marched toward his father’s study.

  His father’s back was turned, his arms clasped behind him as he gazed out the window. His father was so sure of his success. Bitterness washed through Christian, but he swallowed it. He had to think about Kate.

  “What have you done with Kate?”

  “Back again and still without manners. What makes you think I touched a hair on the strumpet’s head?” his father said, turning.

  “I’m warning you.”

  “
With what? You have nothing with which to warn me. You never learn, Christian. I hold all the cards. I always will. You haven’t the talent to best me.”

  “What did you do with Kate?” he asked as calmly as he could manage.

  The marquess waved a hand. “Not that it matters now, but I’ve sent her to her brother in London. Family needs to tend its own. Something you never learned.”

  “No, I believe that was something you never learned, Father.”

  The marquess’s lips tightened. “You continue to disappoint me, Christian. Nevertheless, the girl is gone. Long gone by now. Took the money I gave her and ran like the trollop she is.”

  Christian took a deep breath. “No she didn’t. I know Kate.”

  “You’ve known the girl for what, a few days? A silly infatuation, a dalliance. I could expect no more from you. Nevertheless, you will marry the Palmer chit and forget the damaged one chasing you like a lost dog. Unless you want your friend to suffer.”

  A strange calm settled over Christian.

  He and Anthony had talked for a long time. Although the conversation had been tense at first, so many of the things they should have said long ago had finally been spoken. How Christian had hidden his painful childhood behind a careless façade and how Anthony had encouraged it.

  They had both done their fair share of stupid things. Yet they were both finally growing up and taking the responsibility.

  Their friendship was stronger than ever. It was real, not the illusion he had always feared. There was nothing his father could do about it. And Kate. His feelings for her were definitely genuine. And he might have been unable to trust in someone’s feelings for him a week ago, but so much had changed in the last few days. He was willing to believe Kate’s feelings for him were true as well.

  He just needed to find the words to tell her what was truly in his heart.

  “I’m going to marry Kate, Lord Penderdale. And there is nothing you can do to stop me. This is one ace you no longer hold.”

  The marquess’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t try me, Christian. There are worse fates I can bestow on you.”