Redeeming the Earl

by Jenn Langston

  The remainder of their meal passed with her prattling on about inconsequential subjects. Most of it he tuned out, but it didn’t matter. Gloria never needed another person to be present in order to hold a conversation.

  Overall, he didn’t enjoy her visit. It was a letdown even as a distraction from his dream. As a matter of fact, the best part of her social call came when she left. The silent echoing of the house always welcomed him so much more after Gloria recently vacated. Would he feel the same with Rebecca?

  Later that night, as he gazed at Rebecca across the ballroom, he again wondered what it would be like to have her in his house every day. And in his bed every night, a small voice added.

  Visions of his dream assaulted him again. He couldn’t resist the compulsion to pull his eyes down the length of her. Her tall frame and slender build provided a perfect match to him. As she glided on the dance floor with her brother, the movement of her body captured him. To have those legs wrapped around him—

  “See something you like?”

  Charles spun around at the sound of the Prince Regent’s voice. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I didn’t hear you walk up behind me.”

  Prinny clapped him on the back. “Clearly your mind was more enjoyably engaged. Do you want her?”

  “Her?” Charles mentally berated himself for being so transparent.

  “I’ve had that look on my face too many times not to recognize it.” He put his hand out to the side, and someone placed a jeweled goblet in his waiting palm. “Just take her. Thinking will become much easier after that.”

  Feeling the color drain from his face, Charles tried to keep his jaw from dropping. How could their monarch speak of something so scandalous in a crowded ballroom?

  Laughter burst from the Prince Regent. “Dunmore, you never cease to amuse me. Now, go whisk her from this room and bed her, or I shall do it in your place.” With that parting remark, he walked away, his crowd of hangers on following him.

  Not willing to chance that Prinny’s words were insincere, Charles hastened around the dance floor to where Rebecca was standing. He didn’t know why, but the idea of any man other than him touching her made him ill. Although it was essential he marry, he wasn’t sure doing so with the woman who affected him so strongly was a good idea. But he had invested too much time with her to turn back now.

  “Lord Dunmore,” Rebecca’s eyes lit up as they met his and her voice came out higher than usual. He much preferred the sound to the husky notes normally clinging to her words.

  “Miss Doutree, would you care for a stroll in the garden?” His words were rushed, but the urge to remove her from the room as quickly as possible tugged at him.

  “With pleasure.”

  This statement and her lowered lashes shot a surge of lust through his body. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. On the other hand, Prinny could have been right. Bedding her could be the key. Surely once his body discovered she was exactly like every other woman, he would return to normal.

  Taking her arm, he escorted her from the room, feeling better than he had all day. Once outside, relief made him relax his tense body. Rebecca was safe out here with him. As he guided her further into the garden, she snuggled closer to his side. Immediately, his relief vanished. Perhaps she wasn’t so safe in his company.

  “The night is quite lovely,” she practically purred. “The light mist is very refreshing after the overcrowded ballroom.”

  “Yes.” After stopping in an unpopulated area, he looked down at her. The moonlight accentuated the glistening droplets on her face. His breath caught. The sweat drenched woman from his dream last night was here.

  Her eyes fell to his lips, and she leaned forward. Anticipating her touch, his chest tightened. An internal fight ensued. Why did he want to kiss her so badly? Desire raged through his blood stream, causing him to step away from her in order to breathe again. Once on the other side of the path, he allowed the cool breeze to calm him.

  “I must apologize,” she said from behind him. “When I accused you of being a terrible kisser, I was wrong.”

  An unbidden smile overtook his face. She had enjoyed the experience too. The idea made controlling himself even more difficult. Yet, he couldn’t remain with his back to her. He had to see her.

  Spinning around, his joy fell to see her there, head bowed while wringing her hands. Why was she upset? Had she wanted him to be an unskilled partner? He almost snorted at the irony. After all, he had wished the same of her.

  “Are you all right?” he couldn’t help but ask.

  She nodded. “I just need more practice. If you would just give me one more chance, I can learn. After all, you’re the only man I’ve ever kissed.”

  “What are you talking about?” He silently cursed the moon, wishing for more light. He needed to read her face.

  “The fact you don’t want to kiss me again,” she whispered. “Because I am inept at it.”

  The urge to laugh bubbled up within him. Rebecca, whose kiss tore him up inside and gave him an unforgettable dream last night, thought she had no skill? He couldn’t have imagined a more ridiculous notion.

  “You don’t need any more practice.” As his eyes settled on her lips, desired pulse through his body. “Your talent in that area has already reached perfection.”

  “Then why don’t you want to kiss me?” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

  He wondered at her penchant for doing that. Did she receive pleasure from doing so? How would she respond if he did it for her? He closed his eyes, needing to stop this line of thinking.

  “I already told you. I have no use for such things.” He could hear the strain in his own voice.

  “But I do.” She clicked her tongue. “How can you expect to wed me? Clearly we want different things out of life.”

  He opened his eyes and stalked toward her. She would not get out of this so easily. Although he wasn’t sure about the wisdom of his decision, he wanted to marry her. Perhaps the Prince Regent was right. All he needed to do was bed her. After that, everything would return to normal, and he would be well on the way to having his heir and obtaining belated approval from his father.

  “I can be flexible.” Reaching up, he ran one finger down her cheek, relishing how her body trembled. “Miranda enjoyed kissing as well. I obliged her from time to time. I can do the same for you.”

  Before she could reply, he closed his mouth over hers. Like last time, rational thought left him and was replaced by searing delight. She responded so quickly, he could do nothing but draw her against him and deepen the kiss.

  No resistance met him as her fingers clutched the fabric of his coat. Feeling empowered, he ran his hand down her back, wondering what she would feel like as bare as she was in his dream.

  With his hands on her bottom, he pressed her firmly against him, and pleasure rocked his body. Blood pounded in his ears as Rebecca’s fingers slid underneath his waistcoat.

  Allowing a moment of rational thought to penetrate his desire, he pulled back from her. The light of happiness in her eyes made his chest swell. How could she delight him in so many ways? She was just a woman, after all.

  “Now,”—he cleared the husky notes from his voice—“I shall reserve the remainder of my concessions until after we are wed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you want to kiss me again, you will have to marry me first.”

  Chapter 5

  “Calm down,” Lady Grace Everett, Duchess of Donetic said. “I really don’t see what the trouble is.”

  Rebecca stopped her incessant pacing and turned to her friend. “Not know the trouble? Are you the same person who cautioned me against him almost a year ago?”

  “Of course I am. Which is why I find this decision to be very easy.” Grace took Rebecca’s cold hands in hers. �
��You can’t marry him. Tell your father you won’t do it. Surely he will understand.”

  A lump settled in Rebecca’s throat. Pulling away, she wrapped her arms around herself and moved to the window of the drawing room. Grace was wrong. Her father wouldn’t understand, nor would he accept her refusal of the earl.

  However, it was much worse than that. Rebecca wasn’t sure she wanted to refuse Charles. Never in her life had she wanted something more than she wanted him to be innocent of murder. But without proof . . . Why should this decision be so difficult?

  “It isn’t as simple as that.”

  Grace gasped. “Surely you’re not considering accepting him. You know his reputation. What benefit could marriage to him provide?”

  Of course Grace didn’t understand. She’d grown up with a doting father who would have allowed his daughter to live with him forever. In addition, unlike Rebecca, she’d received attention from numerous gentlemen over her Season. Her prospects hadn’t been limited when she had married the duke.

  “Haven’t you obtained benefits in your marriage?”

  Grace blushed. “Yes, but— Wait a minute. You aren’t in love with him, are you?”

  Turning around, Rebecca met her friend’s startled gaze. “Of course not. I’ve only known him for such a short time. And he isn’t very fond of answering questions about himself. He’s very cryptic.”

  “Oh, Rebecca, but you could—”

  “Please don’t. You are my best friend, and I need you to understand and not judge me on this.”

  Immediately Grace jumped up and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry. I just worry about you. I promise not to say another word on the subject.”

  The relief permeating Rebecca’s body felt like a tangible object. “Thank you.”

  “So where are the clothes I’m to help you sort through? Braiden agreed to return later to assist in getting them to Lady Minor.”

  Overjoyed with the change in subject, Rebecca led Grace to the unused bedchamber where Alex had deposited Charles’s donation. She had already gone through them for clues, to no avail. With Grace’s help, she intended to recheck for staining. Of course, her friend didn’t know exactly what they were searching for, but it didn’t matter.

  Once the donation had been placed in Lady Minor’s capable hands, Rebecca bid her friend and her husband a good day. Their earlier conversation floated through her thoughts as she mindlessly entered the townhouse.

  “Miss Doutree,” the butler greeted. “Your father requested you join him the moment you returned home.”

  Feeling a weight settle in the pit of her stomach, she made her way to her father’s study. The viscount sat behind his desk with a familiar look of irritation on his face.

  “Rebecca, I expected you long before now. Sit.”

  She complied. “I’m sorry father. I—”

  “I have no desire to hear your excuses. Clearly you have a number of them saved up to use in order to shirk your duties.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” she said in the small voice she reserved for the man before her.

  “I had a visit with Lord Dunmore today. You haven’t accepted his offer of marriage yet. Why?”

  She swallowed. Her time had run out. Up to this point she had allowed Alex to tell their father what he chose to, but apparently the viscount was no longer satisfied with the arrangement.

  “I thought it would be wise to get to know him better first. He agreed to give me time to—”

  “Your excuses again. My dear, do I have to remind you this is the first offer of marriage you’ve received? At your age, you should be pleased and not waste one second.”

  “That is true, but with his reputation, I feel the necessity to be cautious.”

  He sat back and steepled his fingers across his lap. “Do you believe I would have given my blessing if I thought he intended to kill you? Be realistic, Rebecca. You are my daughter. I want what is best for you.”

  The concern in his eyes appeared genuine, but she knew better. She remembered that fake emotion clearly. After all, she’d seen it enough her first Season. Soon after, his true feelings about her emerged. The only reason she remained living in the house was due to her mother’s pleadings.

  “Thank you. However, what if marriage to the earl is not what I believe is best for me? Do you think that—”

  “You’re wrong. He’s your last chance. We can’t keep living like this. Have you no compassion for my situation? And think about your brother. Do you want him to have to carry your weight around too, once I’m gone?”

  Unbidden tears stung her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she tried to hold them off. Normally it was Andrew spouting those words, not her father. Apparently his time for being diplomatic had passed.

  “I see,” she whispered.

  “I don’t think you do. The earl’s patience won’t last long. And neither will mine.”

  The following day Rebecca still could not block out her father’s words regarding marrying Charles. Even as she and the earl took their stroll through Hyde Park, yesterday’s conversation pulled at her mind.

  “Is there something amiss?” Charles asked, as he led her to sit down on a bench. “I hate to say it, but I miss your incessant questions. Or rather, I prefer them to your silence.”

  “I’ve just been thinking quite a bit lately.”

  “Anything I can assist you with?” The look on his face indicated he knew the direction of her thoughts.

  Clearly his conversation with her father had been memorable to him as well. Embarrassment burned her cheeks. She hoped her father hadn’t slandered her too mercilessly.

  That brought her pause. Why did she care what Charles thought? She didn’t want to marry him, so his opinion didn’t matter. Or maybe she did want to marry him. Confusion swirled around in her mind. Why did this have to be so difficult?

  “Can you tell me something?” At his nod, she took a deep breath in order to hold on to her courage. “How did Miranda . . . die?”

  His sigh was great, hinting at his reluctance to answer. She purposely hadn’t pushed him before now, but she needed to hear the truth from his lips. She needed it now more than anything else.

  “I suppose I owe it to you to tell you. Miranda and I were both young when we wed. Not too long into our marriage, she discovered she was with child. A few short months later the babe decided to come early.”

  He closed his eyes as if in too much pain to continue. Clearly this reaction was some kind of proof of innocence. It broke her heart to see him like this. She wanted to comfort him, but wasn’t sure if she should.

  “You don’t have to continue. I understand this can’t be easy for you.”

  When she looked up, his brown eyes were regarding her with an emotion close to awe. Had no one else shown him compassion?

  “Don’t you want to know? Hasn’t the uncertainty and questions been sitting between us for weeks? Isn’t the unknown eating you up inside?”

  It was, but considering her current situation, she couldn’t be sure she needed the truth anymore. If her father insisted she marry Charles, his innocence or guilt would eventually become apparent.

  At this moment, his comfort seemed more important than discovering the ending for her story. The thought only brought her further confusion. She never expected to feel this way about someone. About him.

  “Well, I do want to know, but at what cost? You being in pain to satisfy my curiosity isn’t acceptable.”

  Something flashed through his eyes as his lips parted in a silent statement. At this moment, she would give anything to read his thoughts or be somewhere in private. Would he break his rule and kiss her now if he could?

  “No one has ever cared more about me than the information.” He offered her a wry smile. “I’m usually reluctant to talk about thi
s, but I want you to know.”

  “Only if you’re certain,” she said as a flutter went through her chest. Did he have any idea how his simple words affected her?

  “That night we had no idea what was happening. We were assured the baby wouldn’t come for two more months. The doctor didn’t arrive fast enough, and I . . . My son died in my arms, and Miranda . . . I couldn’t save her either.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she forced out past the tightening in her throat. “I didn’t know.”

  “Of course you didn’t. I’ve never told anyone this, besides the authorities.” He took a deep breath as if cleansing the memory. “Are you ready to return home?”

  She nodded, and they walked in silence back to the carriage. Once the horses followed their command to set out, Charles appeared to be back to his normal self.

  “Now,” he began. “With Diana I was prepared for delivering the baby. I–”

  “No, Charles.” Rebecca lightly touched the back of his hand. “I won’t make you relive this. I should have respected your secrets.”

  “But you have a right to know.” He squeezed her fingers before returning his hand to the reins. “I researched everything I could about childbirth after Miranda, so I wouldn’t have to helplessly wait for a doctor. When Diana confined herself to her quarters, I waited for word that the baby was to arrive. It never came. One day her maid found her lying lifelessly in her bed.”

  “Why? People don’t die for no reason.” Rebecca felt her face heat as anger for these women inflamed her. How could the same death affect both women so close to one another?

  “I don’t know. In all my research, I’ve never understood exactly what happened to any of them. Now with Lorraine, her body never agreed with the child. She hardly ever left the bed from the moment she realized she was with child. Not long after that we found her lying in bed. I’m not sure I’ll ever erase the image of the blood.” He shuddered.