Rescuing the Earl (The Seven Curses of London Book 3)

by Lana Williams

  Then his hands shifted to squeeze her waist. She took the opportunity to caress his chest, appreciating the firmness beneath his clothing. His shoulders were so broad, his hips so narrow. He was a delight to look at but felt even better.

  His mouth shifted to take hers deeper, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. Now this was a kiss, she thought, her mind whirling along with her senses. If kissing Tristan was like this, what would making love with him be like?

  She was breathless at the thought, her body on fire.

  When he raised his hand to squeeze her breast, she arched into his touch. She slid her hand under his suit coat, finding the edge of his vest to venture under there as well. The fine linen of his white shirt was crisp and smooth. And so warm. Was his entire body also?

  His fingers lingered along the modest neckline of her gown, easing inside, closer and closer to the tip of her breast. How she wished she wore something more seductive than this simple gown. Her breast ached at the proximity of his fingers. She gave a gasp of delight as he reached her nipple. Never before had she felt like this.

  When he released her mouth, she whimpered in dismay. But his lips moved along her cheek down her neck, nuzzling near her ear, causing delicious shivers down her spine. What could she do but return the favor? More than anything, she wanted to make him feel like she did.

  She raised on her toes to kiss his whiskered cheek, loving the roughness of his skin, down the strong line of his jaw. His collar prevented further exploration. Her fingers moved of their own accord to the buttons of his suit coat, only to be stilled by his hand.

  “Grace.” The layers of emotion in the way he said her name gave her pause. Regret, passion, need, and denial all in one simple word.

  Her heart squeezed, feeling those same things. How could she have forgotten for even a few moments?

  He was not hers to have. He never would be as he was soon to be married. She swallowed hard, cursing the lump in her throat.

  How cruel was fate to throw her in his path, literally, only to deny her from having him in her life?

  “Grace, I—”

  She put her finger against his lips, not wanting to hear him tell her how they could never be together. Not now. Not after all that had occurred today. Not after this wonderful evening together.

  “I know.” She said the words solemnly, seeing the emotions warring in his eyes. “I know.”

  She drew a breath and stepped out of his embrace. The cold sensation that swept through her was full of loneliness.

  How she wished things were different. But they weren’t. She’d met him too late.

  “Thank you again for your assistance today, from the bottom of my heart.” She reached out and took his hands in hers one last time. She held tight to the moment, to the feel of his strength, knowing she couldn’t ever touch him again. “I bid you good evening.”

  He frowned, and she sensed he was going to say something more.

  Her heart couldn’t take it. She released his hands, fleeing the room before she said or did something that would only embarrass them both. Perhaps they might remain friends. That was far more appealing than the idea of never speaking with him again.

  She hurried up the stairs, hoping to hold off her sobs until she reached the privacy of her bedroom.

  Two days later, Tristan studied the report Robert Langston had put together regarding Stannus. Tristan, Nathaniel, and Langston had all been scouring half of London for him. Langston had the best luck, gathering bits and pieces from different sources, and compiled a report. After reading the first paragraph twice, Tristan set it down for a moment to rub his eyes.

  He hadn’t been sleeping well. Or at all, really. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw Grace’s expression when she’d said goodbye two very long nights ago. He’d thought it best to distance himself from her, to give them both time to gain perspective on whatever this was between them.

  Their relationship grew more complex with each moment he spent with her. He shook his head.

  Whom was he trying to fool?

  The least he could do was be honest with himself. His feelings for her were growing. Numerous attempts to tell himself it was only lust had fallen flat.

  What he felt for Grace was far more than desire. It wasn’t an itch he could scratch and be done. He enjoyed spending time with her, talking with her, listening to what she had to say. She was funny, intelligent, and clever. She was so much stronger than she knew. It was a pleasure to watch her become more confident, more comfortable in her role as viscountess and as a woman.

  He'd been so relieved when they’d found Matthew safe. Spending the evening together, like a real family might, had given him an unfamiliar warm glow that refused to be snuffed. That was, until Grace had hurried from the room, taking the glow with her.

  The most telling indication of his feelings had to do with the idea of not seeing her again. That was inconceivable, as was the notion of not seeing Matthew. The boy was a joy, just like his mother.

  But he was going to marry Samantha in little more than two weeks’ time. He’d realized he was not the type of man who could casually conduct an affair. Certainly not with Grace. Where did that leave him?

  The only thing he knew for certain was that he had to do something about Stannus. With determination, he retrieved the report once more.

  It was easy to tell that Langston had been a detective for many years. The report was concise, straightforward and factually based. But the last paragraph was what held Tristan’s attention.

  There, Langston had offered his opinion on all he’d learned, including the impressions of the few people he’d spoken with and his own instincts.

  ‘The man seems to have harbored a lifetime of resentment for Daniel Stannus, the deceased Viscount Chivington. Many of the people I spoke with commented as to his bitterness for his father not being born a few minutes earlier and, therefore, heir to the title. The deep-seated resentment was evident in many of his actions while attending university and continued until Chivington’s death, fourteen months ago.’

  Tristan was surprised that Chivington hadn’t made more of an effort to end his cousin’s attempts to harass him. Then again, who was he to question family dynamics? Heaven knew his own were far more complicated than anyone might think at a glance.

  Stannus enjoyed playing cards and spent a little too much time in gaming hells. The debts he’d piled up that Langston managed to uncover were with some unsavory characters known for their impatience. Stannus was obviously desperate, hence the reason he’d sunk to eliminating Matthew.

  Now Tristan needed to determine how to proceed. He debated telling Grace of this news. It involved her family, which meant she had a right to know, and he wanted to be the one to tell her. But that also meant he would need to speak with her—see her. Such a visit would be dangerous. The passion that had flared between them wasn’t to be taken lightly.

  He leaned back in his desk chair, swiveling to look out the window. The unsettled feeling he’d had since leaving Grace’s home had yet to release him from its grasp. No matter how he considered the complicated situation, he didn’t know what to do. There was no easy answer.

  So how did he find one? The right one?

  “Good morning.” The familiar, feminine tone had him scowling.

  He turned his chair and stood as Samantha marched forward, her maid hesitating in the doorway before disappearing back into the foyer. He didn’t care for Samantha’s unannounced visits. Then again, would he like her visits more if he knew she was coming?

  Samantha’s eyes narrowed at his expression. “Not having a pleasant day?” Her gaze swung to the papers on his desk as though certain they must be the cause.

  “My day has been fine thus far.” He couldn’t help the resentment coloring his tone as it matched how he felt. With a deep breath, he realized how different he would’ve reacted if Grace had walked into his library instead.

  What was he to do about that?

  “Excellent.” She remov
ed her gloves with her usual drama, her attention still on the papers on his desk. “What is this?” She gestured toward Langston’s report.

  Her question added to his impatience at her presence. He bit back a retort that would only result in them arguing. Why had he thought it so important that she be able to stand up to him and give him as good as he gave? Of late, it only angered him.

  “What brings you here this morning?” he asked, clenching his jaw.

  Samantha paused as she looked up at him. He could see the indecision in her expression as she determined whether to allow his lack of an answer to her question.

  Her attention shifted to where his father’s ornate, gold clock had sat on the desk. “Where did your clock go?”

  “I removed it.” He’d also had some of the furnishings in the house replaced. Grace’s changes had inspired him to make some of his own. He’d removed most of his father’s favorite pieces and put in his own, ensuring each one was comfortable. The lightness he’d felt afterward had confirmed he’d made the right decision.

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t care for it.”

  “I liked it and would prefer you put it back.” Samantha held his gaze, obviously waiting for him to give in. “It’s a statement piece of who you are.”

  “It’s not who I am.” He hesitated, realizing this was a chance to share something personal with her. The idea made him uncomfortable, but if they were to have any kind of marriage, he needed to make an attempt to strengthen their relationship. “It reminds me of my father, and the less memories I have of him, the better. He wasn’t a kind person.” He nearly scoffed at the understatement.

  “Everyone says you resemble him.”

  “There’s not much I can do about that.” Should he tell her more? Open his heart to explain how terrible growing up with a verbally abusive parent had been? He cleared his throat, his pulse speeding as he faced the unpleasant topic. “My father took every opportunity to berate my brother and me.”

  “Oh, please, Adair.” Samantha waved her hand in the air. “You grew up with wealth. How difficult could it have been?”

  “Wealth has nothing to do with it.” Anger filled him at her casual dismissal. “I was threatened on a regular basis, constantly criticized, and manipulated into acting cruelly to others. Nathaniel was treated even more harshly.”

  “You’ve carried that chip on your shoulder long enough, and I will not tolerate you going on and on about it. Your brother probably needed to be badgered. Second sons so often do otherwise, they don’t amount to anything.” Samantha lifted her chin, obviously prepared to argue her point. “I’d remind you that your father made you into the man you are today. For that, you should thank him.”

  Tristan said nothing, stunned at her response. He hated the man he’d become and was doing everything in his power to change it. And for her to criticize Nathaniel in any way enraged him.

  “I came here to discuss your mother,” she continued. “She’s overstepped her bounds once again. You must remind her that this is my wedding.”

  While he’d been so certain Samantha was the best choice for him, that her personality was an excellent match for his, now he knew that wasn’t true. She only worsened his dark moods, increasing their frequency. He’d been looking at the situation all wrong from the beginning.

  Marrying her so he could keep Crawford House wasn’t worth the price, no matter how much he enjoyed that holding and wanted to keep it.

  An image of Grace filled his mind and immediately his anger eased. Yet he couldn’t help but fear that if he lashed out—rather, when he lashed out—she would grow to dislike him. Perhaps even hate him. The thought was unbearable.

  To see the admiration and fondness in her eyes change to dislike or something darker would be terrible.

  But so would living without her and Matthew in his life each and every day.

  “What?” Samantha’s impatient tone cut through his thoughts.

  He glanced at her, resenting the interruption from what felt like a major revelation.

  “Don’t you have anything to say?” she demanded.

  He clenched his jaw, telling himself this idea needed more consideration. He hadn’t jumped into asking Samantha to marry him. Nor should he make a rash decision now. Besides, plans were already underway. He and her uncle had an agreement. Tristan didn’t go back on his word.

  This was about so much more than that. This was about determining how and with whom to spend the rest of his life.

  He didn’t even know if Grace would consider spending her life with him. She had recently lost her husband and was only just finding her voice. She might prefer to stay unmarried and explore her newly found independence.

  He needed to determine if he wanted to marry Samantha whether or not Grace was a possibility in his future. He’d lose Crawford House along with the income and peace it provided if he didn’t marry in the next two weeks. While he’d miss it dearly, it wasn’t worth making the rest of his life miserable to keep it.

  Damn. Had he just made a decision?

  “Adair, what on earth is wrong with you? I’m speaking to you and you haven’t heard a word I said.”

  He stared at Samantha, realizing the idea of taking her to his bed with the hope of a child was unwelcome at best. Far worse was the idea of her being the mother of his child. Now that he’d seen what a loving mother was capable of, he had his answer.

  No.

  Beyond a shadow of a doubt.

  “Samantha, I’m afraid I have bad news.”

  “What?” Her eyes narrowed with anger, and he knew it was only going to get worse.

  But somehow his heart had already lightened.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Persons who have not been six months in London are not considered objects of the charity; but food is given to persons passing through London in search of work, to assist them on their way.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  “Thank you again for inviting me to accompany you.” Grace stepped down from the carriage onto Bond Street the following afternoon, waiting as Julia and Lettie did the same. She glanced around to make certain Charles wasn’t nearby. Though worried he might try to confront her while she was in public, she refused to allow him to dictate her activities. Thank goodness Matthew understood the need to remain in the house with his nanny while she was gone.

  She was both excited and nervous about this outing. She’d never gone shopping with friends and wanted it to go well but wasn’t certain how to make sure it did.

  She’d decided to keep some distance from Tristan to hopefully curtail her growing attraction to him. That made her growing friendship with Julia and Lettie more important. Plus, it also provided a welcome distraction.

  She’d promised herself she was done crying when she woke this morning, but tears still threatened. A well of emotion tangled just below her throat. It would only become worse if she allowed her feelings for Tristan to grow when there was no hope of more than a casual acquaintance.

  Blinking quickly, she turned to her new friends before melancholy got the best of her.

  “Thank you for coming along,” Julia said with a smile.

  “Wouldn’t a day at a museum be more interesting?” Lettie asked as she glanced up and down the busy street.

  Julia looped her arm through her friend’s. “We’ll do that next time, shall we? Museums require us to be quiet and today we have too much to discuss.”

  “We do?” Lettie looked slightly puzzled.

  With a laugh, Julia hugged Lettie’s arm. “Yes, we do.”

  Grace smiled at the pair, envying their obvious affection for each other. “How long have you been friends?”

  “See,” Julia said with a glance at Lettie as though Grace’s question proved her point, “we have much to share today. We’ve known each other for years but have grown closer over the past few months.”

  Lettie sighed then quickly gave Grace a look of apology. “I’m excited to spend tim
e with you, but I can’t say that I care for shopping.”

  “That is quite all right. An outing with friends is new to me, regardless of how we spend it.” Grace glanced at the nearby shops. “Where shall we go first?”

  “Wait.” Julia took hold of her hand to study her. “You have never ventured out with friends?”

  Grace hesitated. Would she lose these charming ladies’ friendship if she admitted how sheltered a life she’d lived? Glancing at each of them, she decided she should begin as she meant to go on—honestly. She wanted to be herself when among friends and that meant accepting her past and embracing her future. She wanted to blend the two into who she was now.

  “I was raised in a small parish in the country, and there weren’t any girls my age. I knew many people but friends were few. And as the daughter of a vicar, much of my time was spent helping my father, especially after my mother died.”

  Julia reached out and squeezed her hand. “My mother died when I was quite young as well.”

  Lettie sighed. “If either of you would like to borrow mine, I’d be happy to lend her out.”

  Grace couldn’t help but gasp at Lettie’s offer, but Julia only giggled.

  “Lettie, you’re terrible.” Julia glanced at Grace. “You’ll have to forgive her, but her mother is a bit of a trial. She doesn’t seem to understand our Lettie.”

  Grace was fascinated by the conversation and what she’d learned already. “In what way?”

  “Every way possible.” Lettie smiled as though to lighten her statement. “I suppose my likes are not exactly normal for a young woman my age, so much of the blame lies with me.”

  “You are perfect just as you are,” Julia exclaimed. “If you doubt that, even for a moment, you need only ask your captain and he’ll confirm it’s true.”

  The grin that spread over Lettie’s face along with her slight blush was delightful to witness. She was obviously very happy with her betrothal. “I am the lucky one.”