The Seduction of an Earl

by Linda Rae Sande

  Sarah nodded at the mention of the Duke of Chichester’s daughter. “Although he was fond of her, I do not believe Gisborn ever intended to marry her. He had nothing to do with the arrangement, although he was present when the late earl and Wainwright signed the papers,” Sarah said with a hint of sadness in her voice. “She would have been like a younger sister to him. Nothing more.” She regarded Hannah again, as if she’d put that choice out of the running. “Who else?”

  Taking a deep breath, Hannah let it out slowly. “Lady Charlotte. The Earl of Ellsworth’s daughter.” Hannah could tell from Sarah’s reaction that she was unaware of the betrothal Ellsworth had arranged on behalf of his daughter, Hannah’s other best friend. “Part of her dowry was Ellsworth Park ...”

  “He didn’t buy it?” Sarah interrupted, her face taking on a look of astonishment as she paused in mid-step, remembering Hannah’s earlier comment about Gisborn coming home with another woman’s dowry.

  “No,” she answered as she shook her head. “Ellsworth had already signed over the land to Gisborn before he even reached London. Gisborn agreed to the arrangement – he knows Lady Charlotte ...”

  “We used to play with her, when the Binghams came from London for the summers,” Sarah said, her eyes glazing over. “She was a very beautiful girl,” she whispered quietly, as if she was remembering their time together. “I was always a bit jealous of her,” she added, her face reddening with the admission. “She held a good deal of sway over Gisborn. He would do whatever she told him to do. I spent an entire week thinking Gisborn had kissed her and ...” She broke off, her eyes darting about as she realized her mistake in admitting she had, at one time, had feelings for the man.

  “You do love him, don’t you?” Hannah spoke quietly, trying hard to ignore the other comment about Gisborn doing whatever Charlotte told him to do. “It’s alright. I expected you ...”

  “I did. Back then. I was very young. Very naïve. He was already quite handsome. But ... I’ve grown up. I’ve grown old,” Sarah stated firmly. She sniffled, as if she was fighting back tears. Quiet for a few moments, her thoughts obviously on the past, Sarah suddenly straightened. “What happened with the betrothal to Lady Charlotte?” she wondered, her brows furrowing. The news of Gisborn having taken property as Lady Charlotte’s dowry was still a surprise to her. She wondered if she would have felt a bit more jealous had Gisborn married Charlotte instead of the woman who walked by her side.

  Hannah shrugged. “Charlotte loves Joshua Wainwright, the new Duke of Chichester. She had been betrothed to his late brother since she was a child. But, according to Gisborn, Chichester intended to marry her. And he did. They were married shortly after Gisborn left Sussex.” She didn’t add that their wedding date was the same as her own.

  Sarah was shaking her head, surprised at learning there were others who were supposed to be Henry Forster’s wife. “So, how was it he come to marry you?”

  Smiling finally, Hannah sighed. “Lady Charlotte told him to ask me for my hand,” she said, tears suddenly welling up. “And, as you said, he does whatever Charlotte tells him to.” She pulled a handkerchief from a pocket in her gown, suddenly embarrassed. Waving a hand in front of her face, as if she could fan away the tears, Hannah felt so conflicted, she knew not what to think or do. Charlotte was responsible for Henry coming to her. Charlotte was the reason he had asked for her hand. Charlotte was the reason they were married.

  For a moment, she didn’t know whether to thank her best friend, or to despise her for her involvement. Certainly her friend had meant well. Certainly she’d told Gisborn why he should consider Hannah. “A man only ever loves his mistress and marries another so that there is a mother for his children.” Damnation! How could she have ever believed that mantra? How could she believe she would never love a man? Never want him to love her? I’ve been a fool!

  Sarah saw Hannah’s conflicted emotions cross her face, saw the tears. “Although he holds Lady Charlotte in high regard, I doubt he married you because she told him to,” Sarah countered, her head shaking. A movement in the distance caught her attention, but for only a moment. Nathan was heading in their direction, his afternoon with the earl obviously at an end. She needed to get back to the dower house and see to dinner. Taking Hannah’s arm, she turned them around and headed south toward the dower house and Gisborn Hall.

  Harold, having decided the women would be standing in the middle of the road for the rest of the afternoon, had settled onto a nearby patch of grass and was napping rather loudly. At the sudden movement of his mistress, he lifted himself up and sauntered after her. When he noticed Nathan, his pace picked up and he rushed to meet the boy.

  “Why, then? Why me?” Hannah asked, her tears under control. Good grief! She had made a fool of herself just then. But Sarah’s words had been so true. He’d even admitted Charlotte had told him to seek out Hannah. How could she have been so blind when he came courting?

  Blind.

  Love is blind, she thought absently. And deaf and dumb.

  I love him.

  “I think he loves you,” Sarah said with a shrug before she lifted a hand to wave at Nathan.

  Dumbstruck, Hannah stared back at Sarah. She blinked, hoping the tears had subsided as quickly as they’d appeared. She heard Sarah’s words again in her mind, stunned the woman would think such a thing. How could she know how Gisborn felt?

  Hannah finally let her gaze drift to the boy whose frog had startled her earlier that afternoon. The boy who had his father’s eyes. The boy who could look as stern and as serious as his father. The boy who had his father’s wicked sense of humor. He would be upon them at any moment, Harold barking and jumping around him as he skipped his way along the road. “Is it wrong for me to want him to? I want him to love me,” she finally admitted. “Very much so.”

  Sarah gave her arm a reassuring tug. “He needs you, milady. He may not know it yet, because he can be stubborn and high-handed and proud, but he needs you. So, just ... love him, and eventually he’ll figure it out. It always takes the men a bit longer to realize these things,” she added with a wink as she pulled her arm from Hannah’s so that she could wrap it around her son’s shoulders and greet him.

  And Hannah watched as mother and son embraced, her heart clenching as she considered Sarah’s words.

  “You were brilliant this afternoon,” Henry said in a whisper, his arm pulling Hannah’s body atop his as he rolled off of her and into the mattress. He’d entered her suite from the dressing room door, his robe not even tied at the waist, to find her in front of the fireplace reading a book. He’d taken great pleasure in undoing the laces of her gown, although he wondered why she would still be dressed when it was after ten o’clock. He half-expected to find her asleep.

  There was a feminine giggle from somewhere near his armpit. He felt her lips on one of his nipples, and he inhaled sharply. She was getting quite good at pleasuring him, even when he claimed he could take no more in that regard.

  “I just adored the look on his face when I convinced him I had frogs of my own,” Hannah whispered, her lips returning to his nipple and then the soft skin along the side of his chest. She thought briefly of her talk with Sarah that afternoon. At this very moment, she could believe what the older woman had claimed. He loves you.

  “Which, of course, you did not,” he countered, his smile more because of her lip’s ministrations than his comment. When there was no reply, he lifted his head. “Now would be the time to agree with my brilliant deduction,” he ventured, his post-coital brain suddenly clearing to allow reasonable thought.

  Hannah paused in her exploration of Henry’s ribs. “Remember, I had an older brother,” she countered before her lips took purchase on another rib and suckled playfully.

  “Oh, God,” Henry exhaled, his chest heaving with the words.

  “He was worse than his frogs,” she added before taking the opportunity to grasp his semi-hard cock in one hand and stroke it from base to tip and back down the other side.r />
  “You minx!” he admonished her before her giggle erupted from beneath his arm.

  When they awoke the next morning, the room bathed in a golden-pink light, Hannah found herself encased by Henry’s body, her back tucked against his front, his knees behind hers and his arms wrapped around her in a protective cocoon.

  “How long before your maid arrives?” he wondered, his lips kissing her hair.

  Hannah sighed. “I’m not sure she’s ever coming,” she whispered back.

  There was silence for a moment as Henry seemed to digest the information. “What are you saying?” he wondered, his body suddenly tense.

  Hannah turned in his arms, her shoulder against his chest. “She attended me the night before last, but I did not see her at all yesterday, nor did Mrs. Batey. I believe she has left the household, perhaps to marry.”

  Henry lifted himself onto an elbow, his brow furrowing. No servants just left his employ! They usually said something, resigned, or at least left a note. “Marry whom?” he asked, his manner still quite stern.

  Hannah recalled the name on the note Lily had left to be mailed and her discussion with Sarah. Thomas Babcock. According to Sarah, she thought Babcock and Lily had planned to marry for some time. “Do you know a Thomas Babcock?”

  Staring down at her, Henry’s face hardened. “Oh, Christ,” he swore. He was suddenly up and out of the bed, grabbing his dressing gown. “Did she talk to anyone?” he asked, his ire apparent.

  Startled by his sudden anger, Hannah pushed herself up until she was seated on the edge of the bed. “Not that I know of. I only asked Mrs. Batey. And then Sarah told me ...”

  But her last words were spoken to thin air as Henry was out of her bedchamber, through the dressing room and into his.

  “What is it?” Hannah wondered, coming to her feet and hurrying to her husband’s room. Unlike him, she didn’t reach for a gown and entered his room entirely naked.

  “Thomas Babcock is a bounder,” Henry said in an angry tone. He was standing before his tallboy, pulling out a pair of drawers. He turned to find Hannah staring at him, her unclothed body a distraction he couldn’t deal with at that moment. With her long hair only partially covering her breasts, their tips puckered in the cool air in the room, she looked like a woodland nymph. He picked up his dressing gown and moved to wrap her in it. “As much as I adore seeing you this way, and believe me, my lady, you, naked, is probably my favorite thing to see, especially first thing in the morning, but you really must cover yourself, or you will become Murphy’s favorite thing to see. He’s on his way up as we speak,” Henry explained as he ushered his wife through the dressing room and into her bedchamber.

  Ignoring his comment, Hannah turned and reached for his arm. “Is she in danger with this Babcock boy?” she asked, her face showing her concern.

  Henry dared not share his initial impression. Her maid would certainly be ruined; beyond that, he wasn’t sure what Babcock would do. “I don’t know. I’m going to find out, though,” he vowed. And then he left her when he heard Murphy enter his bedchamber.

  Henry considered what he should have done to the rake after what Babcock had done with the Coley girl the year before. Babcock had taken the village girl in the dead of night. He’d promised her a wedding in Gretna Green. But the couple never got that far. The second night on the long ride, he’d convinced her to spend a night in a Stratford inn, but without enough money to take two rooms, he had talked the girl into sharing a bedchamber. Once he’d taken her virtue, he had quit the room and returned to Oxfordshire, claiming the girl had taken employment at the inn. When her father found her days later, she was indeed working at the inn, but only because Babcock had left her with no money. She was stranded, trying to earn enough funds to return home.

  Wrapping her arms around the front of her body, Hannah struggled to remain calm. The scent of Henry’s cologne reached her nostrils as she gathered the fabric of his dressing gown around her. Inhaling deeply, she took comfort in the now-familiar scent. Lily knew Babcock. Certainly she wouldn’t leave with him if she thought she would be in danger. Lily would be fine.

  Hannah glanced around her room, realizing she would be dressing herself again this morning. With Lily gone, she had no one to assist her with dressing for dinner, either, but if Henry intended to go after the young couple, he probably wouldn’t be home for dinner. Perhaps Mrs. Batey could send up a servant girl to assist her, even if the household staff already seemed rather meager. She could manage, she decided, until arrangements could be made for a replacement. She’d done her own hair yesterday; she could do it again today.

  And in the meantime, her husband seemed quite adept at removing the pins from her hair and undressing her before bed. She hoped he would return by that time.

  Henry spoke in terse sentences with Murphy. “What do you know of Thomas Babcock these days?”

  Murphy stiffened as he held a waistcoat for his master to slip into. “I ... I have heard he has been promoted at the The Romany Inn. I believe he is to be in charge of the taproom,” his valet informed him. There was a formality to his words, but a definite impression of disgust under the comment.

  Henry regarded his valet as the man held out his topcoat. “What do you know about Lily Parker?”

  Murphy stared at Henry was several seconds, not sure of his meaning. “I rode with her from London, of course. We spoke very little, although she mentioned she was looking forward to returning to Oxfordshire. I have not seen her since ... since the night before last at dinner, in the kitchen,” he said as his brows furrowed. “There was some talk at dinner last evening as to her whereabouts, but Mrs. Batey thought she was in Witney to visit her family. Has something happened?” he wondered, smoothing the fabric of the topcoat over his lordship’s shoulders.

  Henry snorted. “Doubtless. She may have left with Babcock, but I don’t know that for certain.”

  Murphy stared at his master. “If she left, she had to do so in the middle of the night,” he remarked.

  “Who would have seen her leave?”

  The valet considered possibilities. Most servants were in their rooms before midnight; the household seemed to keep early hours, farm hours, not at all like the households in London. “None of the household staff, if she didn’t want to be seen,” he said as he considered the possibilities.

  Nodding, Henry did a quick check in the cheval mirror before departing the room. “Someone had to have seen her,” he countered as he headed to the hall and down the steps.

  “What do you know about Lily Parker’s departure from the household?” Henry had made his way straight to the stables, figuring if anyone on the Gisborn estate knew anything about the comings and goings of personnel, it would be his newly promoted groom. For all intents and purposes, Billy O’Conlin was still a stable boy, but Henry had plans for him.

  Billy stared at the earl with a cocked eyebrow. He was carrying a bucket of water intended for Thunder. He had promised Lily he would tell no one of her clandestine trip two nights before – as long as no one asked him a direct question. He sighed. Henry Forster was asking him directly. “She left about midnight the night before last, my lord,” he answered, setting the water into the stall with Thunder.

  Henry stared at the groom. “Why didn’t you stop her?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

  Billy’s head dipped before he raised it and considered how to answer. “I tried. Believe me,” he said with a kind of exasperation that Henry took as the younger man’s inability to deal with a member of the opposite sex.

  “Christ! Where was she headed?” Henry asked, his ire apparent. “My wife is worried sick,” he said, although, come to think of it, Hannah hadn’t seemed particularly concerned. Just resigned to having lost her maid. But Billy didn’t need to know that. “She thinks she might have run away to get married.”

  The groom’s eyebrows lifted at the comment. “I asked her if she left a note for her ladyship, and she said she hadn’t because she couldn’t write well,�
�� he said, his disgust at the situation evident in the tone of his voice. “She was to meet Thomas Babcock somewhere on the road to Bampton. And she said they were going to Scotland to get married.”

  His shoulders slumping, Henry regarded Billy and sighed audibly. The last thing he had time for was a trip north in pursuit of a young couple intent on marriage in Gretna Green. Although Babcock probably didn’t intend to get that far. “Christ!” he swore, his nostrils flaring at the news. “Did you think that maybe someone should know what she told you?” he wondered, his anger increasing.

  But Billy didn’t back down from the earl’s confrontation. “Aye, my lord. Aye, I did. She made me promise not to tell anyone unless ... unless someone asked me directly. And it took over a day, dammit, for someone to come out here and ask me directly,” he cursed, his own anger growing. And it was suddenly apparent he had forgotten he was addressing an earl. “Do you honestly think I would have let her go if I thought I could stop her?” he asked rhetorically. He wasn’t angry with the earl. He was angry at himself. Angry that he hadn’t somehow prevented Lily from leaving that night.

  His brows furrowing at Billy’s outburst, Henry stared at the young man for several seconds. “You ... feel affection for her, don’t you?” he countered, his voice softening with the realization.

  Billy’s eyes closed and he held himself very still. “Ever since ... yes, for a long time,” he acknowledged, his head lowering.

  Henry thought he heard a sob coming from the boy, wondered what had happened between Lily and him when she had left. He licked his lips. “Saddle up your choice of a horse,” he ordered. “Load your saddle bags with grain and apples. I’m going to see what I can get from the kitchen.”

  Billy lifted his head, his face showing his confusion. “Pardon, my lord?” he asked, his civility toward the earl restored.

  “We’re going after them,” Henry replied, turning to leave the stables. “I’ll see to some food for the road. Get your horse and Thunder saddled, and we’ll be on our way. With luck, we should be able to catch up to them before they get to Stratford on Avon.” He turned to go, but Billy’s shout had him turning around before he reached the back door to Gisborn Hall.