The Earl of Davenport: Wicked Regency Romance (Wicked Earls' Club)

by Maggie Dallen

Chapter Four

  He wanted the kiss to continue. Lord Almighty, he loved kissing this woman.

  Proof enough that he’d chosen well, he decided. But after several heart-thumping moments, he eased back, his hands still cupping her face. He was unexpectedly overcome with the urge to pull her against him and never let go. She was his.

  He stared at her wide blue eyes for a moment in surprise.

  Oh, he’d known that he desired her. He’d been battling a barrage of sexual fantasies from the moment he’d seen her standing there in his drawing room, all grown up and perfectly filled out.

  Little Anne had turned into quite the woman.

  But now that overwhelming desire was equally exciting and terrifying. Of course he wanted to desire his wife, but this all-consuming passion was new and not entirely welcome. Every time his lips touched hers, his mind went blank.

  Typically he could keep some distance, even when making love to a beautiful woman. He’d always excelled at keeping a part of himself locked away, a piece of his mind and heart always safely removed from the intimacy of the moment.

  But that sort of distance proved to be impossible with his little hellion.

  She blinked at him now, her gaze deliciously dazed from the kiss.

  Damn, but he couldn’t wait to see her expression on their wedding night.

  An insanity seemed to grip him. A need so fierce and overwhelming, he acted on it without thought. “We leave today to marry.”

  Her gasp brought some semblance of sanity back. “B-but—” she started to protest.

  For some reason her protest only fanned the flames of whatever fever had him in its grip. She was his. He didn’t want her to change her mind. He couldn’t let her out of his grasp now that he had her.

  With that thought, he came to stand, not trusting himself to touch her one moment longer for fear he wouldn’t stop. Then he would surely scare her away.

  She looked like she might protest again and a new, foreign terror swept through him. Hell, what was happening to him? One day he was single and in control and the next he was engaged and acting as though he’d just escaped Bedlam. He hid behind the mask he’d been wearing for years now—the wicked, powerful earl. “You’ll want to start packing, I imagine,” he said, moving away from his fiancée and making a show of donning his riding gloves.

  In reality he was going through an internal battle between his rational mind, which told him to slow down, and this new, gripping terror that told him to make her his as soon as humanly possible.

  The gripping need won out over reason. “I’ll come to collect you in an hour and we’ll make our way to Gretna Green.”

  As he walked out the door, his last vision of his soon-to-be wife was of her gaping at him, apparently struck speechless by the new turn of events.

  Not that he could blame her.

  He found Claire and the maid who’d let him in hovering outside the door. When he stopped in front of them, they gazed up at him with wide eyes. Whether they were wide with shock or horror, he did not know and did not wish to guess.

  Though Claire may have been willing to marry him to save the family, he doubted she would wish the same fate upon her younger sister.

  He adjusted his cravat, which suddenly felt too tight. He did not have time to worry about Claire’s feelings on the matter. What was done, was done. Besides, her family would reap the rewards of this union, so who could rightly complain?

  “Your brother,” he said to Claire. “Is he at home?”

  It went without saying which brother he needed to speak with.

  She gave a jerky nod. “Y-yes, my lord. Jed is in his study.” Turning to the maid, she said, “Greta, will you show him the way?”

  The wide-eyed maid nodded and led him down a hall. Claire, he noted, hurried in to the drawing room, most likely to interrogate Anne.

  Jed’s head snapped up when he walked in behind the maid, who promptly made her excuses and slipped out into the hallway.

  “Davenport!” With his fair hair and classically handsome features, Jed was the male version of Claire. Except that where Claire was demure and proper, Jed was a gambler and a rake. And whereas Claire had pink cheeks and a healthy glow, Jed looked peaked and gaunt. He looked far older than his years and far worse than the last time he’d seen him.

  Come to think of it, Jed used to be a male version of Claire. This Jed bore little resemblance to Claire other than the blond hair.

  “Davenport, what a surprise.” Jed was slow to stand and his emotions raced across his face one by on. Shock, then confusion, then grim understanding at the expression on Davenport’s face. “I suppose you’ve heard about our troubles?”

  Our troubles. As though there were anyone to blame but him. Still, seeing his old friend looking so weak and desperate brought with it a wave of self-reproach. He should have done more sooner.

  He tugged at his cravat again. It was well time he hired a new valet as his current one seemed intent on strangling him.

  Jed was eyeing him warily, no doubt wondering how exactly he intended to help.

  Davenport helped himself to the seat across from Jed. “I’ll be brief as I have much to do before I marry your sister.”

  Jed’s mouth went slack and he fell back into his seat.

  “As part of the marriage contract, I will agree to pay off all of your debts and ensure that you have the necessary funds to provide for your family and maintain your home.”

  “I—That is—I cannot—” Jed visibly swallowed before trying again. “You’re marrying Claire?”

  Davenport sighed. “No, not Claire. As I was saying, I am prepared to pay off your debts but I don’t believe your actions should go unpunished. Therefore—”

  “Who are you marrying?” Jed’s brow was furrowed in confusion. He clearly had not been paying attention to the terms and would not until he explained.

  Davenport was not used to having to explain himself and he resented having to do so now. Nevertheless, time was of the essence. “I am marrying your youngest sister, Anne,” he explained slowly, so even a dimwit could understand. “She has already agreed so I am here to ask your permission.”

  Though it could be noted that he had not, in fact, asked permission. Asking permission was perhaps even more odious than having to explain himself. “I assume you’ll approve of a marriage to Anne if it means saving your family from destitution?”

  Jed stared at him for another long moment, his eyes wide with shock. “A-Anne? You want to marry Anne?”

  He struggled for patience. But really, he had no time for this. He gave the other man a pointed look. “Might we return to the topic at hand? I believe we were discussing your finances.”

  “But,” Jed interrupted, “did Anne agree?”

  “Ask her yourself when we are done here,” he said. Though as he spoke, he felt a twinge of fear that perhaps she would change her mind while talking to her brother. Jed was clearly not up to the task of convincing her since he looked appalled by the idea.

  All the more reason for him to hurry this process along and get the wedding over and done with. He leaned forward. “Now then, back to your financial concerns.”

  A short time later, they had a deal. Davenport would save them, but Jed would pay him back for the gambling debts once he was back on his feet.

  Davenport had no need for the money but it was the principle of the matter. Besides, how could the foolish man ever learn his lesson if he never suffered the consequences of his actions?

  Jed agreed to the terms. Of course he did—he had no other options.

  Davenport raced home to tell his servants about this last-minute departure and to get preparations underway for the journey. As he went about preparing he rationalized his hasty actions. A rushed marriage was a bit extreme, even for him. However, if he was caving to the ton’s expectations by marrying, surely he would do it on his own terms and in his own way.

  He became aware of his great aunt in the doorway to the foyer as he oversaw the
preparations. “A bit soon, don’t you think?” she asked. “Don’t tell me there’s a little devil on the way.”

  He grinned at his aunt’s dark humor, then his smile grew as he thought of how he would be consummating his marriage soon. Not soon enough, but it was the fastest elopement he could manage.

  His aunt was watching him with a mix of amusement and concern. “Tell me, nephew, what is the hurry?”

  He smiled at his aunt. He wished he knew. But he couldn’t admit that he was acting on some sort of primal instinct. She would surely have him committed. “Why wait?” he returned. With a shrug, he added, “What better way to shock the ton than with a hasty marriage?” He leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before adding, “Their tongues will be wagging.”

  She rolled her eyes. “As always. Don’t you think it’s time you stop acting for their sake? There’s no one to impress with your devilish ways anymore, you know that, don’t you?”

  He cast her a quick look. He knew she wasn’t referring to society at large. She was talking about his parents. It was something she’d mentioned often in the years since his parents lost their lives in a carriage accident.

  She seemed to think he’d taken on the devil moniker just to shock them. To give them what they expected of him. She still didn’t understand that they had been right all along. He was a curse, incapable of the kind of good she expected from him.

  And now you’ve gone and cursed Anne.

  He tried to shake off the thought, but it persisted. She was kind and pure, surely she deserved the same.

  He growled as he grabbed a wrapped parcel of food from one of the servants and carried it to the carriage. It was too late to question his decision now. Besides, Anne was strong as well as kind. She could hold her own in a home with the devil. That was why he’d chosen her, wasn’t it?

  Was it? the voice taunted.

  He shook off the question, along with the multitude of doubts that were threatening to swarm his mind if he didn’t act quickly and efficiently. This sudden marriage might be rash and it was definitely selfish, but those two traits described him perfectly. Anyone who knew him would say he acted on impulse and base desire.

  His mind conjured an image of Anne with her soft, sweet lips and her luscious curves. A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. There was no denying that this decision had been largely affected by base desire.

  But there was reason involved as well. This would give Anne and her family the security they needed—surely they deserved that after being friends to him and his family all these years.

  The other reason was self-explanatory, yet he found himself saying it nonetheless. “I require a countess, Aunt. You said so yourself.”

  She was watching him with a knowing smile. “Indeed I did. And you do require a wife.” She reached over and patted his cheek as though he were still a boy and not the wicked earl he’d come to be. “I can only hope this Miss Cleveland will give you what you need most.”

  He refused to ask what she meant by that. Her smug smile had put him on edge and time was of the essence if he was to get back to the Cleveland home and back on the road with time to spare. His plan was to make it halfway there by nightfall and he’d already sent a servant ahead to make the appropriate accommodations at an inn.

  He and Anne were on the road in no time. He’d been surprised but pleased to find her standing beside a valise on the steps of her family home at precisely the time he’d indicated.

  As he helped her into his carriage, he asked, “Did you speak to your brother?”

  She nodded but that answer did not quell his curiosity. What had she told him? That she wanted to marry him? Surely not. But it was her decision and she was here, that was all that mattered. Still, he found himself probing. “Did he approve of your choice?”

  She turned, halfway in the carriage, laughter making her eyes a vivid blue. “Would it make a difference?”

  No, not at all, he realized. Even if her brother were to object, he would swoop her into his arms and into his carriage. His mind had been made and, once decided, he never wavered.

  When he didn’t immediately respond, she tilted her head to the side. “I thought not. And I can assure you that even if Jed disapproved, he would not be able to do more than wish us well.”

  Her lips tightened and her nostrils flared, making it obvious that she was irritated with her brother. And who could blame her? After all, it was Jed’s reckless management and addiction to the gaming tables that led to their financial predicament. He’d be damn angry at her brother himself if their dire straits hadn’t given him the bride he’d been searching for.

  Once they were settled, he thought to reassure her. “I’ve made arrangements to ensure that your family is taken care of as soon as we are married.”

  She’d been looking out the window, watching her family home recede into the distance, and when she turned to him, she surprised him with a cheerful smile. “I know that.”

  He blinked. She did? Her ready acceptance that he would protect her and her family made his chest tighten in an unusual, though not unpleasant manner.

  He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as the carriage took them north. His gaze moved over her red hair glinting in the sun, the ivory skin that glowed as if from within, the cloak that frustratingly obscured his view of her body.

  But his gaze kept returning to her rosy lips, which were turned up at the edges as though she was out for a pleasant drive and not being whisked away to marry a man society had deemed the worst sort of devil.

  Finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer. Shifting in his seat so he could lounge back as he studied her, he asked the question that had been running through his mind from the moment she’d entered his carriage. “Are you not frightened?”

  Her eyes widened as she turned to face him. “Should I be?” Again, laughter filled her voice and warmed him as surely as a draught of whiskey.

  He found himself returning her teasing smile. “Most would be.”

  She tilted her chin up in a way he was starting to recognize and love. “Well, I am not most.”

  “No, you most assuredly are not,” he murmured. He’d always known that his little hellion was in a class of her own and it was becoming clearer by the second that her singular status held true as an adult as well.

  Her gaze held his as her smile grew. “Besides, I know better than anyone that you are not the devil people say you are.”

  His brows shot up in surprise. “Do you?”

  Though his voice was low and taunting, she continued on without so much as a pause. “Of course.” She leaned forward slightly as though to let him in on a secret. “You seem to forget that I’ve known you since you were a boy.”

  A flicker of an age-old, nearly forgotten pain shot through him at that unintended reminder. Some would argue that as a boy was when he was the most wicked. His parents would attest to that if they were alive.

  As would Robert.

  But Anne’s mind had clearly not followed the same dark, dismal path. Instead she was outright grinning at him. “Do not pretend that you don’t remember being my savior as a child.”

  He frowned. Savior? Him?

  Never.

  “You always came to my defense when I was being teased.”

  He stared at her. Had he?

  “You must remember standing up to that bully Roger Griffin,” she said, sounding entirely confident that he would remember.

  He did not.

  Her head cocked to the side as she sighed. “Perhaps you do not. I do, however. It wasn’t every day that two boys fought over me.”

  Ah. A hint of a memory came back to him of that large, thickheaded boy from the village getting a pounding for calling Anne names. He supposed he had come to her defense. He shrugged in the carriage, oddly uncomfortable at the praise, and even more so by the look in her eyes. Almost as though she admired him.

  “I was always looking for an excuse to fight,” he said. “I didn’t need a good r
eason.”

  Her smile didn’t falter. Instead, it grew. “And what about the time you leapt to Jed’s defense.” She shook her head then, a hint of sadness marring her happiness. “And don’t think my siblings and I don’t know the way you tried to steer Jed away from gambling all those years ago.”

  Regret had him shifting in his seat. He should have done more to keep his old friend from going down that disastrous path, but he hadn’t. He’d let the friendship end instead, not wanting to watch his mistakes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t successful.”

  She shrugged off his remark while he sat in stunned silence. Was that an apology? Had he just apologized? When was the last time he’d done that? He couldn’t even remember. It was possible the answer was never.

  “You tried,” she said evenly, meeting his gaze. “That is more than I could say for the rest of his friends.”

  Hell and damnation. He hated that look in her eyes. They shone with admiration and warmth and… oh hell, she was looking at him like he was some sort of hero. Didn’t she know that he was the Devil of Davenport? Didn’t she realize that she had tied her life to one who was cursed?

  He looked out the window as the landscape rushed past. “You do realize that everything you’ve mentioned were actions of a boy who had something to prove.”

  Back then he’d been hell-bent on proving he wasn’t evil, that he wasn’t wicked. Nearly everything she mentioned occurred before he’d realized that it was useless to try and fight it. It was easier to accept his fate.

  She waved away his comment. “Nonsense. You’re not the devil people say you are.”

  He raised one brow, defensive and oddly irritated by her assurance. Something about her words and her kind tone made him want to lash out, prove her wrong. He was that bad. In fact, he was worse. He was a curse to the people who loved him most. She needed to know the truth about him. Devil though he might be, he couldn’t marry this kind young woman while she looked at him like that. Like he was some sort of savior rather than the nefarious rake he was. “Why do you think I’m marrying you?”

  She blinked at him then, some of her humor fading, the smile growing dim.