What a Wicked Earl Wants

by Vicky Dreiling

  She sniffed it and reared back. “No thank you.”

  He took the flask and sipped. Then he set it aside.

  “Tell me about Thornhill Park,” she said.

  “It is a huge property, more than a thousand acres.” He pictured the circular drive and the formal landscaping. “A landscape artist proposed transforming the formal gardens into the latest fashion for wilderness. I refused.”

  “You wanted to maintain it as you remembered it from boyhood.”

  He sipped the brandy. “The cliffs are magnificent.” He pictured the jutting rock and the crashing sea below.

  “Tell me about them,” she said.

  He hadn’t gone to the cliffs since returning to England, but it all came rushing back. The bizarre rock formations, the cry of birds, and the constant roar of the sea. “When I was a boy, I climbed one by myself.”

  “Your parents must have worried.”

  In his mind, he heard the crashing waves and saw himself staring below at the swirling sea. He recalled feeling dizzy by the height.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  The memory was like a dream. He remembered strong arms snatching him up and a hoarse voice. My God, oh my God.

  “My father.” He hadn’t meant to speak the words.

  “He found you?” she asked.

  He’d forgotten or shoved it back into the dark recesses of his mind. Now the memory flooded his brain. “His arms were shaking.”

  His father had held him so tightly that it hurt.

  “You might have been injured,” she said. “Or killed in a fall.”

  He flinched and sought a little oblivion in the brandy decanter. His father had probably saved his life that day, but years later, he had not been there in his father’s final hour. He’d not been there to say good-bye to his mother and brother. His jaw clenched. He’d been too late.

  She took his hand. Her palm was soft and warm. “Did your father punish you?”

  He shook his head.

  “You don’t remember?”

  “I woke in the night. My father was asleep in a chair next to my bed.”

  “He needed to be near you,” she said. “I imagine he forbade you to go there ever again.”

  “He took me to the cliffs the next day. My father pointed out the dangerous places and said he would take me there so that…” Something hot rushed up his throat. He gritted his teeth.

  She looked at him. “So that…”

  He whipped his face away.

  “Tell me,” she whispered.

  He leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. “He didn’t want my mother to worry.”

  “Did he tell your mother?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It was smart of your father to take you,” she said. “He was a wise man.”

  “Yes and no.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He used to say the cliffs were shaped from the hand of God.” He huffed. “I believed it.”

  She was silent at first. “You don’t believe in miracles?”

  “I believe in what I can see, hear, smell, and touch.”

  “When my sister Rachel’s first child was born, I thought it a miracle.”

  He thought about the hundreds of children born in squalor, but he knew her beliefs and bit back his cynicism.

  She turned his palm up and traced one of the lines. “You managed Justin so well from the beginning. I knew you must have learned from your father.”

  He said nothing. He couldn’t.

  “Your friends married. Did you ever think about what it would be like to marry?”

  “Briefly, after my friend Fordham’s wedding.” He’d felt adrift and isolated. His friends had moved on with their lives. Damn it, he missed them.

  “You will give up your family’s legacy?”

  His jaw tightened. “I won’t be here to care.”

  “That’s not a reason,” she said.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I realized something,” she said. “There’s no entail, is there?”

  “There’s no one to inherit.” He scowled. “What is your point?”

  “You mean to let it revert to the Crown.”

  “It’s none of your affair,” he said.

  “If you really don’t care what happens to the property, why not sell it now?”

  He got off the bed. “How dare you poke into my affairs?”

  “You’ve poked into mine, and you’re not angry at me.”

  “Oh, yes, I am.”

  “You’re angry because you lost your family,” she said.

  “No, I’m angry at your presumption. This is the reason I never speak of the past.”

  “I know how you feel. I walked around in disbelief after Phillip’s funeral, even though I’d known it was coming. A month after Phillip passed, I went into his room and discovered that the valet had disposed of Phillip’s shaving brush. I was so angry. It made no sense.”

  He was breathing harder. “I know it doesn’t make sense to you. You think you know me, but you don’t. I have my reasons for my decisions. I know what I’m capable of and what I’m not. There will never be a little family. There will never be an heir of my body. There will never be another Lady Bellingham.”

  “I think you had better leave,” she said.

  He raked his hand through his hair. “I never misled you, Laura.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  He met her gaze. “The handkerchief.”

  Humiliation burned her chest. “It was my way of thanking you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. I had a duty, given what transpired.”

  She bit her lip, because the last thing she wanted to hear was that he thought of her and Justin as his duty.

  “Good night,” he said.

  When he shut the door, her face crumpled. She’d known all along that there was no future for them. And still she’d held out hope. Tonight he’d opened up a bit of his past to her, and she’d believed that she could help him heal. But he didn’t want to be healed.

  She’d known all along that even if he could give her the moon, the stars, and his heart, she would be unable to give him children.

  She’d known for weeks now that she’d developed tender feelings for him, and she’d allowed them to grow. She loved him, but he didn’t love her. He wanted only friendship, and now she wasn’t even sure that could exist between them after this night.

  With a heavy heart, she walked to the bed and frowned. She reached beneath the bed for the chamber pot, realizing her back ached and her breasts were a little sore. Now, of all times, her irregular cycle would have to come. Oh, this would be a humiliating experience. She prayed she was wrong.

  When the maid woke her in the morning, Laura sat up and a wave of nausea gripped her. She thought it must be all of the emotional turmoil from last night. The maid brought a clean chamber pot and promised to bring a cup of tea to settle her stomach.

  She was starting to feel better after sitting still when she realized that she needed the chamber pot for the second time this morning. When she pushed the pot under the bed, she nearly retched. She stood, wondering if she was ill. Then her skin prickled all over.

  The day she’d gone to Rachel’s house and confessed she might be increasing, her sister had asked her if she’d found herself needing the necessary more often than usual. It was the first suspicion she’d had that she might be wrong about a pregnancy.

  Laura sat on the edge of the bed and covered her mouth. She told herself it couldn’t be true. In the first five months of marriage, she had never conceived. After that, her husband had grown too ill to lie with her.

  But how could she be pregnant? There had been only that one night with Bell. Was it possible? Her eyes smarted with tears. She’d wanted a babe so badly and thought it would never happen. Laura set her hands on her flat belly and hope blossomed in her heart.

  Her happiness fled quickly as she realized the enor
mity of what had happened. The night they’d made love, she’d told him that she’d never conceived during her marriage. He’d looked relieved.

  Last night, he’d told her in no uncertain terms that there would never be a family or an heir of his body. She couldn’t tell him her suspicion, but if it was true, she would have to tell him. The babe would be his child, too.

  But if she told him, he would feel trapped.

  He didn’t love her, and he didn’t want a family. He was willing to let his property go back to the Crown because he believed himself incapable of being a husband and father.

  She mustn’t panic. There was no certainty. But if she was carrying his child, she would be in terrible trouble. She would be an unwed mother with a bastard child. Her child and her family would all suffer.

  “Oh, God, help me.”

  Bell felt like an ogre. She’d said very little at breakfast and had looked away each time he tried to catch her eyes. Now she focused all of her attention on embroidering that scrap of a gown for her sister’s babe. She was probably very sad about her sisters having children while her womb remained empty. Bell wondered if the problem had been with her elderly husband. Then it struck him if that was the case, he might have impregnated Laura. He told himself that was far-fetched. He’d known men whose wives didn’t conceive for months after marriage.

  A memory jolted him. He could almost feel how hot his face had gotten as his father rebuked him for kissing that tavern girl. It only takes once, and then you’ve created a bastard child.

  He silently chided himself for letting his thoughts run to a nonexistent disaster. The only reason he’d thought about it was because she was embroidering that infant gown. What he ought to be worried about was his ill treatment of her last night. He’d gotten his back up because she’d poked and prodded a little too far. He’d known all along that Laura was the sort of woman who doted on others. She probably thought she could patch him up. Perhaps this evening when they stopped at the White Dove, he would ask her to walk with him so that he could make amends.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The moment they arrived at the White Dove, Laura applied to the innkeeper’s wife. She was embarrassed by the number of times she’d had to find the necessary. Now as she emerged into the entrance, she felt conspicuous. She knew it was ridiculous. Bell didn’t suspect a thing. She told herself a bachelor wouldn’t know the early signs of pregnancy. Of course, she wouldn’t be in this dilemma if her courses were regular—or if she’d not gone to his bed. But she didn’t want to regret that night or him.

  The porter took the bags upstairs as Laura approached Bell and Lady Atherton.

  “Well, I’m going upstairs to wash and read my book of poetry now that I’m not in a rocking carriage,” Lady Atherton said. “Laura, you were wise to bring embroidery for the journey. Will you accompany me upstairs?”

  Bell met her gaze, and Laura realized he wished to speak to her. She turned to Lady Atherton. “Actually, I wish to stretch my legs. Lord Bellingham, would you accompany me?” she asked.

  “Yes, a walk would be nice.”

  “Well, we’ll all meet in the dining parlor later,” Lady Atherton said.

  Laura took Bell’s arm. The inn yard was noisy and full of travelers. He led her past a group of children who were playing. When he stopped by an oak tree, he took a deep breath. “Laura, I’m sorry for my harsh words last night. I was uncivil, presumptuous, and unkind—to you, my dear friend.”

  Her eyes welled. “Forgive me.”

  He reached for her hand. “You have done nothing wrong. I think I have a fair idea about the kind of woman you are. Your role in life as a caretaker started early, and you’re very good at it. You are very aware of others’ feelings, and you want to help. Given the decisions I’ve made, I understand why you want to help me come to terms with the death of my family.”

  “You never mourned them.”

  “I failed them,” he gritted out.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t want to talk about the details. I was tried, and I failed.”

  Laura thought of the child that might be growing in her belly and wondered how she would fare if she failed with this trial. She squeezed his hand. “You know I’m tempted to offer to help, but I will respect your wishes and privacy.”

  “I was out of my head when I realized I was too late. I had the perfect family, and I lost them all. If not for my friends, I don’t know what would have happened. Those four years that I traveled, I knew that I could never make up for that failure. There is no resolution. I can’t bring them back, and I can’t make it better by creating another family.”

  “Are you being too hard on yourself? You were younger and tested in one of the worst possible ways.”

  “I decided years ago that I would never be a family man. It’s not who I am. I’m not going to marry just to pass on an estate and a title. It won’t bring back my family, and it won’t absolve me.”

  He was afraid of letting himself love again because he couldn’t bear to lose those he loved.

  He was relieved by the jovial atmosphere at dinner. Laura was primarily responsible for the lighthearted evening. She told them funny stories about the more interesting people in her father’s parish, and she also regaled them with stories of some of the local folks who put on airs.

  Bell laughed. “How does your father give a sermon with a straight face when one of the parishioners snores so loud no one can hear him?”

  She smiled. “Papa says it saves him time as he can easily repeat any sermon with no fear of anyone having heard the entire thing.”

  The innkeeper’s wife brought a bottle of wine and three glasses. Laura begged off. “I would prefer tea this evening.”

  “You don’t wish to have wine?” Lady Atherton said.

  “My tastes must be changing,” she said. “At any rate, a cup of hot tea is always invigorating.”

  Lady Atherton regarded her with an enigmatic expression. Laura knew her friend was too astute not to miss the signs.

  Laura sat in a chair in Lady Atherton’s room. “Well, we have one more day of the journey, and then I will see Justin again.”

  Lady Atherton finished her glass of sherry. “I’m certain the boy is enjoying his time gallivanting about Thornhill Park, especially with those scamps Harry and Colin.”

  “I fear we will not be able to keep Montclief from taking Justin,” Laura said.

  “Mark my words, Bellingham will not allow that to happen,” Lady Atherton said.

  “The courts are likely to let Montclief’s guardianship stand, unless Lord Bellingham can produce evidence that Montclief is unsuitable. Thus far, the investigator has not uncovered anything substantial, other than my brother-in-law is bleeding his tenants dry.”

  “Bellingham’s influence and his knowledge of the courts will win the day.” Lady Atherton patted her hand. “I know that is probably not comforting at this moment, but I urge you to have faith in him.”

  “I have faith in Bellingham,” Laura said, “but I would be lying if I did not admit I’m frightened that the courts will not rule in our favor.”

  “Be patient,” Lady Atherton said. “Bellingham will save the day. Mark my words.”

  Laura knew he would do everything possible, but unless incontrovertible evidence of Montclief’s bad character was found, she stood to lose her son.

  Later that evening

  Laura was scared, more scared than she’d ever been in her life. More scared than when her son had caroused with friends on the dangerous streets of London. More scared than when Phillip’s doctor had confided his condition was fatal. More scared than when Montclief had threatened to take her son.

  She had to make a decision, one that no mother should ever have to face, and she would have to cover up her actions every step of the way to protect all those she loved.

  In the near future, she would have to leave Hampshire and invent a story for her absence. She would have to prepare in advance because
her family would question her, and she must never, ever let them know.

  She would apply to Lady Atherton for assistance. It was imperative that she conceal her secret, and that meant the most heart-wrenching decision any woman could ever make.

  She could no longer avoid the truth. There were too many signs.

  She was carrying Bell’s babe.

  Laura’s eyes welled as she laid her hand on her flat belly, as if she could protect her unborn child. She had lain awake most of last night, wrestling with a decision that offered nothing but heartache and, worse, a life as an orphan for her child.

  How could she do it? How could she give away her own child? What kind of mother would leave her child in an orphanage? The thought alone made her so sick she could hardly eat.

  But the babe was Bell’s as well. Did he not deserve to know that he was to be a father? Did he not deserve to have a say in the decision? Yet his words echoed in her mind. I know what I’m capable of and what I’m not. There will never be a little family. There will never be an heir of my body. There will never be another Lady Bellingham.

  She didn’t know what to do. He’d suffered so much already, and he did not want a family. If she told him, he would do his duty and marry her, but she feared it would never be a real marriage. Bellingham was not one to let the proprieties govern his life. He would ensure that she and the child had every comfort, but she suspected he would live apart from them. There would never be harmony between them, and their child would suffer for it.

  If she didn’t tell him, their child would suffer in far worse ways. She pictured a little boy with blue eyes asking for his mother, and her face crumpled. She knew with every ounce of her being that she could never leave her baby, but she had to find a way to protect her child and all of her family from ruin.

  Laura had no answers, but her father had taught her to trust in prayer. She knelt on the hard wooden floor, bowed her head, and prayed for an answer. “Lord, I cannot do this alone.” As she strained to listen, she knew a moment of doubt, but she would not forsake her child. She waited, counseling herself to be patient as her father had taught her.