What a Wicked Earl Wants

by Vicky Dreiling

  Mrs. Faraday waited for silence, and then she continued. “We are also grateful to Lady Chesfield for taking on the role of president of our organization.”

  Bell grinned at Laura and said, “I must give credit to Lady Chesfield for informing me of the great need for the unfortunate, forgotten children. I’m sure Mrs. Faraday would welcome additional contributions this evening.”

  Applause rang out again.

  Mrs. Faraday fished out her book and pencil from her reticule. Guests gathered in a queue. Harry emerged from the back of the dining room and clapped Bell on the back. “I poured brandy in the punch bowl. No doubt that will loosen the purses tonight.”

  “Where is Colin?” Bell asked.

  “Over there in the donation queue.”

  Laura clasped her hands. “How wonderful of Colin, but why does he look so glum?”

  Harry grinned. “Angeline volunteered him for five hundred pounds.”

  Soon after the donation announcement, Laura and Bellingham escaped the ball. Lady Atherton had insisted that Bellingham take Laura home because her complexion had looked a bit wan. They were both laughing as they hurried to Bellingham’s carriage.

  When the carriage rolled away from the Bonhams’ mansion, Laura placed her hand over her heart. “I thought for certain we had been found out.”

  “I know,” he said. “I was racking my brain, trying to think of some explanation that didn’t include a faux engagement and me laying my coat over a puddle.”

  “Don’t remind me,” she said. “That had to be the worst lie I ever told.”

  “I’m shocked,” he said. “A vicar’s daughter lying through her teeth. You ought to be ashamed,” he said.

  “I was desperate, and you know it.”

  “True, you promised me anything. I ought to have demanded far more. My marauding ancestors would be appalled.”

  “Honestly, I was frightened half to death in the dining room,” she said.

  “We’re safe,” he said.

  “For now.” Laura blew out her breath. “Sooner or later, Montclief will raise his head and cause trouble.”

  A tealike scent enveloped her. It took him a minute to identify it. “Roses,” he said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The perfume,” he said.

  “Actually, it’s soap,” she said. “I know it is an extravagance, but I cannot resist.”

  Her words marked another difference between them. He never would have thought of soap as an extravagance. Her father was genteelly impoverished. She probably had never had small luxuries until she married.

  “I went shopping recently to buy presents for my family,” she said. “I enjoyed finding gifts that I knew they would appreciate. Then I tried to think of something for my son and realized I no longer knew what would please him.”

  “Well, believe it or not, I was an adolescent cub once and could probably make suggestions.”

  She looked at him. “It is not the gift so much as the knowledge that I no longer know his preferences. I couldn’t think of a single gift for my own son.”

  “Your son is changing rapidly,” Bell said. “Making his own choices is part of his independence. Granted, he’s made bad ones recently. But in a mere four years, he will reach his majority, and he will be required to make dozens of decisions every single day.”

  “But I’ve been managing most of it, with the help of estate managers and others. I can assist my son.”

  “Laura, you miss the point. He doesn’t want his mother assisting him. He needs to be independent in order to take over his legacy. If you cling too tightly, he will push you away.”

  “Is that what I do?”

  He chose his words carefully. “I think you and your son are dealing with changes in your relationship. That can prove difficult when you’ve accustomed yourself to the years when he was younger.”

  “I focused all my energy on Justin after Phillip’s death. My son needed comfort. We had each other.” She missed their close relationship.

  “It was natural for you and your son to become closer after your husband died, but those days are gone,” he said. “He has matured quite a bit in the last few weeks.”

  “Yes, he was unduly influenced by George.”

  They were silent for a while, and then she spoke. “It will sound so foolish when I have such a large family close by, but when Justin was in school after Phillip’s death, I felt so alone. I’d hoped to spend time with Justin in London, and then he rebelled. I had such grand expectations, and then I found myself in a huge city where I knew no one, except Lady Atherton.” She looked at him. “And you.”

  “You fear being alone,” he said.

  “Doesn’t it ever bother you to live alone?” she asked.

  “I have friends and political allies.” His old friends had married and now lived in the country. He had found the changes in their lives disconcerting until he’d met Harry and Colin.

  “You are right,” she said. “I think I try to smother Justin, and so he pushes me away.”

  Bell looked at her, but she was staring straight ahead. Then she shivered.

  “Are you cold?”

  “A little.”

  He scooped her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Oh,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  “I’ll keep you warm.” He liked the feel of her bottom on his lap and wished there were no layers of clothing. He imagined holding her naked in his arms. Heat traveled through his veins, and his groin tightened. He would make himself mad if he continued on like this, all desire but no satisfaction. Yet, he still wanted her, even though she’d made her objections clear. At first it had been the thrill of the chase, but she didn’t play those sorts of games. She was nothing like the sophisticated women of the ton who thought nothing of taking a lover. In Laura’s world, men and women did not enter into casual liaisons for mutual pleasure, because it was considered a sin.

  “If I confess my secret, will you promise not to rebuke me?” he said.

  “I think you mean to trick me.”

  “Tricks are allowed,” he said. “Remember, I’m a rake.”

  “Oh, do you have a book of rake tricks?”

  He tapped his temple. “It’s stored in my brain box. I have a trick for every occasion.”

  “Such as?”

  “Luring pretty widows onto my lap.”

  She burst out laughing.

  He smiled.

  “Your charm is very hard to resist,” she said.

  “Then don’t.”

  The carriage rocked to a halt at her house. He didn’t want to let her go this night, but no matter how much he desired her, he was a gentleman to the core, and he’d promised not to press her to act against her conscience. “I will escort you to the door.”

  She moistened her lips, and he was so tempted to kiss her senseless and soften her objections with his hands. But she wasn’t that kind of lady.

  Laura looked out the window where two tall lamps burned animal fat to light the way. “I’m the oldest of ten children,” she said. “I was expected to be the model child, the one who set the example for my siblings.” She turned to him. “It was so easy back then to distinguish between right and wrong. Now I find myself questioning my beliefs for the first time.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I devoted myself to caring for my husband and my child. I felt needed, but my husband is gone, and my son will soon be grown. I am at a crossroads in my life. Nothing will ever be the same. I will always cherish the years with my husband and son, but I cannot go back as you said.”

  He said nothing, but she seemed to be struggling with a decision.

  “I have always taken the straight path. I was always sure of right and wrong, but now I see it is not so simple.”

  “Few things in life are,” he said.

  “When the season ends, I will return to my home where I will be the proper widow and devote my time to my family and helping those who a
re less fortunate. But I realized tonight that in trying to make others happy, I have often neglected myself. This will be my last London season. Years from now, I will look back and remember you.”

  “I will remember you, too,” he said.

  She took a deep breath. “I fear I will regret that I made the wrong choice.”

  “What choice is that?” he said.

  “One night with you,” she whispered.

  Oh, God. “Are you certain?” He was an idiot for asking, but he was a gentleman. “I don’t want you to have regrets in the morning.”

  “I am afraid,” she said.

  “Of what?”

  “That I will disappoint you.”

  “No, you won’t.” He framed her face with his hands. “I will make sure that this will be a night we will both always remember.”

  He slid her off his lap, got out of the carriage, and gave the driver new directions. When he climbed back inside, he considered that in the interval she might have changed her mind, but she laid her hand in his and held it until the carriage rolled to a stop at the modest little town house where he’d kept mistresses. This time would be different, because Laura was unique. He’d set out to win her as his mistress, and then she became his friend. This night was not about a conquest. It was about a woman who had chosen to make love to him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Laura trembled as Bell turned the key and opened the door. All was shrouded inside. “The butler isn’t expecting me,” he said. “He and the maid are likely sleeping.”

  She surmised he had not recently had a woman here. For some reason, that reassured her.

  He fumbled with a flint box and produced a flame. After he lit a candle branch, he offered his arm. As they approached the stairs, she knew a moment of doubt. He had said she would not disappoint him, but she feared she would.

  A memory of her wedding night flashed in her mind. She’d been frightened half to death, and yet she’d yearned to hold Phillip close. She’d wanted to please him because she’d loved him.

  Bell took her up the stairs. She told herself not to think of her late husband. Yet, the first time she’d kissed Bellingham, she had compared him to Phillip. She couldn’t help it, because the kisses and sensations Bellingham had aroused in her were completely out of her experience. Now she worried that she would feel that she had somehow betrayed Phillip.

  Bellingham stopped before a door. She released his arm, and he opened it. He took her hand and led her inside. A huge canopied bed dwarfed the rest of the room.

  He set the candle branch on a bedside table and turned to her. “You’re nervous. It’s understandable.”

  Laura questioned the decision she’d made. It wasn’t because of Bellingham. It was because she feared that she could not live up to the countless women who undoubtedly had known sophisticated ways of pleasing a man.

  Bellingham caught her by the waist and hoisted her onto the edge of the mattress. He sat beside her and took her hand again. “I want to say something first, because I imagine that you are remembering your husband right now.”

  “How did you know?” she whispered.

  “Because I know you, and it would only be natural for you to think of him. I know that you loved him and cared for him when he was ill. I will not pry into your marriage, because I want you to preserve your happy memories of your husband.”

  And just like that she fell in love for the second time in her life. “He was a wonderful man, and so are you.”

  He smiled. “I was a bit worried I couldn’t live up to your sainted husband.”

  “He had his faults. You are very different men, but I think I chose well both times.”

  He stood and removed his coat. Her nerves jangled as he stripped off the cravat. He cocked his head and looked at her. “I think you need to relax a bit. I’ll pour us both a glass of wine.”

  She turned sideways on the bed and watched him walk over to a chest. He lifted a decanter and poured wine. Then he returned and handed her a glass. “To this night,” he said, and clinked her glass.

  She sipped the wine. “It’s claret.”

  “Yes, do you like it?”

  She nodded and kicked off her slippers.

  He sat beside her. “You have very small feet and hands.”

  “They match my very small height.”

  He smiled. “Drink up now.”

  “Are you in a rush?” she asked.

  “I won’t rush you,” he said. “Much.”

  She laughed and felt a bit anxious again. “I don’t really know how this will proceed.”

  “Now, now. You know I’ve never met a rule I didn’t want to break.”

  “Are there rules?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes. Dozens of them. Rule number one. Do not throw a lady’s skirt over her head.”

  She burst out laughing. “You are bad.”

  “Rule number two. Ladies first.”

  She frowned.

  “That goes along with rule number three. Do not race to the finish line.”

  “Oh.”

  “Rule number four. Do not crush her with your weight.”

  “Oh, dear. That would be unfortunate,” she said.

  “Rule number five. Look her in the eyes.”

  She sipped her wine and regarded him over her glass.

  “Rule number six. Kiss her senseless on the mouth and on every inch of her skin.”

  Her breathing grew ragged.

  “Rule number seven. Have a gentle touch.”

  She was feeling a bit giddy from the wine and his rules.

  “Rule number eight. Pay attention to how she responds and ask if she likes it.”

  “Very gentlemanly,” she said, and sipped wine again.

  “Rule number nine. Tell her she’s beautiful.”

  Oh, dear, he really did know how to seduce a lady with words.

  “Rule number ten. Let her lead occasionally.”

  She nodded, even though she wasn’t sure what he meant.

  “Rule number eleven, the most important rule of all. Do not snore afterward.”

  She laughed again. “You are charming.”

  “I’ll skip back to rule nine. You are beautiful.” He kissed her cheek. “Now give me the wineglass because I don’t want you foxed.”

  “I am a bit giddy.”

  He took her glass and set it aside with his own. “Giddy is good. Foxed is not.”

  “Is that rule number eleven?”

  “I lost count,” he said. Then he pulled the pins from her hair and sifted his fingers through the long locks as he gazed at her. “Now you get to choose. I can undress you first or you can undress me first.”

  She blinked. “Oh.”

  “So what will it be?”

  “Do you have dice? We could roll to see who goes first,” she said.

  “I’m too impatient to hunt for dice. Let’s go with ladies first.”

  “I’ve never done this before,” she admitted.

  “Well, let’s see. I have three buttons on my shirt. Buttons on the falls of my trousers. Oops, forgot about the boots. I’ll do those first. Then there is a ribbon on my drawers. Do you have any questions?”

  “I think your clothing is less complicated than mine,” she said.

  He stood and shucked off his boots. “I’ll take the stockings off, too. Bad form to keep those on.”

  She fell back on the bed, laughing.

  He grabbed her hands and pulled her to a sitting position. “No reclining. You have a job to do.”

  She unbuttoned his shirt and grew brave enough to pull the voluminous fabric out of his trousers. He slid the braces off and pulled his shirt over his head. She reached for the button on one side of his falls and brushed her hand against his erection. When he sucked in his breath, she continued slowly, teasing him with her fingers occasionally. After she finished, the fall opened, and she saw the bulge in his drawers.

  “You’re very good at this,” he said, his voice low and a little rough. Then he
pulled off the trousers and stockings quickly.

  She took his hand and drew him closer. Then she untied the ribbon of his drawers. She looked up at him and heard his fast breathing. She pushed the drawers past his hips and he sprang out. Laura swallowed. She’d sworn not to compare, but good heavens, he was huge.

  He shucked off the drawers and just stood there waiting.

  “Do you know what I want?” he asked.

  She touched him. Then he wrapped her hand around him. She squeezed him gently, and he was definitely breathing as if he’d run a race. “My turn,” he said.

  He lifted her off the bed and went to work quickly, untying tapes. She knew he had vast experience, and at the moment it showed. When he encountered the front-lacing stays, he grinned. “Oh, I approve.”

  Moments later, the dress, shift, and petticoats slid to a heap on the carpet. “Keep the stockings on—I like it that way.”

  “Very well,” she said.

  Then he held her hands and looked at her. “Oh my God. I had better ask forgiveness in advance. I may forget a rule.”

  “You are forgiven,” she said.

  He picked her up by the waist and dropped her onto the bed. She scrambled back, and he followed. “Come here, pretty lady.”

  She hesitated, and he grabbed her. “My marauding ancestors are applauding,” he said.

  Laura couldn’t stop laughing. She’d not expected his playfulness, but she loved him for it, because it eased her anxiety. Well, that and the wine.

  He pressed her back onto the mattress and hovered over her. Then he cupped her cheek and kissed her. The sweep of his tongue thrilled her. She cupped the back of his head and fingered the short layers of his thick hair. Then she tangled her tongue with his, and all of the playfulness dissolved into heat and desire. She ran her hand over the sparse hair on his chest. His arms bulged with muscles. His ribs and hips were sculpted as well. He was strong and big, but when he touched her breast, he was so gentle.

  He nudged her thighs apart and set her feet on the bed. Then he took her nipple in his mouth and sucked. Her back bowed as the indescribable pleasure sizzled through her veins. He switched to her other breast, and she realized she was wet between her thighs. Then his hand feathered down her abdomen, and he touched the folds of her sex. She jerked, but he whispered near her ear, “Shhh. I’ll be gentle.” He parted her and slipped his finger inside her. “You’re wet,” he said. Then he did something with his thumb and a spurt of pleasure stunned her. She lost all sense of everything except the way he rubbed her. “Oh, yes, sweetheart. Move with the rhythm.”