The Earl Claims His Wife

by Cathy Maxwell

  “Thank you,” Brian said, dismissing her.

  She bobbed a quick curtsey and went upstairs to feed Anthony.

  Jealousy was an ugly emotion. It could run through a man with more heat and speed than the sharpest blade.

  Brian stood as if rooted to the floor. He’d wanted to believe that Gillian was falling in love with him.

  The truth was, his wife knew her own heart and the Spaniard had won it.

  And what did Brian have left?

  He began to move, pacing the perimeter of the room, turning, pacing it again. Jealousy built to anger. He’d never wanted anything in his life more than he had Gillian. She was his wife. She was his—

  He stopped. What had she said to him when he’d first gone to Huntleigh for her? That she wasn’t a possession?

  Brian had gone to Huntleigh to make her honor her wedding vows to him. He’d won. She’d done so…and yet, it wasn’t enough. He wanted her heart, free of any doubts. Obligation was no longer an acceptable reason for her to be with him. He wanted every last bit of her…and if he couldn’t have it, then he’d rather she return to her Spaniard.

  The realization rocked him back a step.

  Was this love?

  He’d thought himself in love with Gillian, but that “love” had too much pride to let him set her free.

  And yet now, now he wanted what she wanted. Her happiness might mean more to him than his pride.

  But he couldn’t let her go. He didn’t want to lose her.

  Nor was he one to grovel.

  The room’s four walls seemed to close in on him. He was a man. If he set Gillian free to go to the Spaniard, what would that mean for him and the rest of his life? He’d be alone. There would be other women—but none of them would be Gillian. None of them would possess her resourcefulness, her resiliency, her ability to make him listen to what he didn’t want to hear.

  And she was to return shortly and he’d have to face her, knowing she’d sent the letter.

  Brian wasn’t certain he was in the mood to smile and pretend everything was all right. Gillian was obviously much better at that than he was.

  The anger returned.

  Going out into the hall, he took his coat from its peg, grabbed his hat, and went out the door. It would be best he didn’t see Gillian right this moment.

  His wife was going to leave him. He told himself he would see his way through this. He’d handle it. Distance was the best solution. He’d keep his distance and she’d never know how much he cared.

  With that thought in mind, he headed to White’s. There, he could hide in the company of men, drink himself into forgetting her, and no one would know he’d lost his heart to his wife.

  Gillian hadn’t meant to be gone from the house this long, especially since she had Alice with her. They’d left Ruby minding the baking Alice had done for dinner.

  She had finally paid a call of introduction to Lady Liverpool who was everything kind and generous. Yes, her husband had mentioned Lord and Lady Wright.

  The next step would be to send the invitations to dinner. She and Brian had been discussing who the other members of the dinner party would be. Tonight, over dinner, they’d have to reach a decision.

  However, as she was riding home in the hack, she saw her cousin Holburn and his duchess Fiona walking down Oxford Street, shopping. She’d called for the driver to stop and what followed was a joyous reunion.

  “I didn’t know you were coming to town,” Gillian said.

  “We came to find you,” Holburn answered. “I sent a messenger to Atherton’s house, but he returned to say you weren’t there.”

  “Wright and his father have had a severe falling out, which is fine with me. I prefer my own roof and my own servants,” Gillian said.

  “With Wright?” Holburn asked in disbelief.

  Gillian laughed. “Yes. With Wright.” She couldn’t help but let her voice soften on his name.

  “Didn’t you leave him?” Holburn questioned in disbelief. “You sound happy.”

  “I am,” Gillian admitted. Holburn frowned his confusion, but Fiona understood.

  “Things are good between you?” Fiona asked in her lovely, lilting Scot’s accent.

  Gillian let all her happiness show. “He is the most wonderful, kind man in the world.”

  Fiona took her hands. “I am so pleased for you.”

  Before Gillian could answer her, Holburn said, “You left him, then you didn’t want to go with him, and now you are happy with him?”

  Gillian laughed. “I know, I know. I sound as if I’m the most fickle woman in the world. He’s given up his mistress. It turns out he hasn’t seen her in years. We’ve been doing so well and we have this wonderful child, Anthony—”

  “You have a child?” Holburn interrupted. “I know you are a wizard at managing a household, Gillian, but you’ve only been gone from Huntleigh for a little under a month. Not even you can hatch a chick that fast.”

  “Not my child,” Gillian said, correcting herself.

  “Wright’s child?” Fiona asked, sounding as confused as her husband.

  “No, he’s not.” Quickly Gillian gave them a bit of Anthony’s history. She trusted Holburn and Fiona with the truth. It helped that they didn’t question the decision to keep Anthony.

  “And so you have become a married couple and parents,” Fiona said.

  “Yes,” Gillian answered, “and we’ve never been happier. Wright is wonderful. He’s not as I had thought him. I don’t know if the war has changed him or age or what—it doesn’t matter. He is exactly what I want in a husband.”

  “What of Andres?” Holburn asked.

  Gillian sobered. “I wrote him a letter. I tried to explain. Wright is my husband. I pray he will understand.”

  Fiona placed her hand on Gillian’s arm. “He will be upset.”

  “But he is a man. He’ll shoulder it,” Holburn assured her.

  “Will you talk to him for me?” Gillian asked. “Please tell him how sorry I am.”

  Her cousin shook his head. “No matter what you say, it will not be good news for Andres. He fell at your feet the moment he set eyes on you. Still, you must be honest.”

  “That’s how I felt,” Gillian said quietly. “And yet, I don’t want him hurt. I thought it best to tell him as soon as possible.”

  Fiona was the one to change the subject. “When will I have the opportunity to meet this paragon amongst husbands?”

  “This evening, if you wish. Do you have plans for dinner?”

  “We do not,” Holburn said.

  “Then join us. You will meet Anthony and see how deliriously happy I am.”

  “Deliriously?” Holburn teased.

  “Yes,” Gillian stated. “And you can tell me how your trip to Scotland was.”

  “That would be lovely,” Fiona answered, accepting the invitation.

  Gillian gave them her address and they agreed to meet at eight. She climbed back in the hack, anxious to go home and tell Brian of her afternoon’s adventures.

  However, as the hack drove her to her doorstep, she noticed a blue enamel cabriolet with red wheels and yellow spokes waiting a few doors down. It was such a pretty vehicle it attracted attention, especially in this genteel but modest neighborhood.

  Alice hurried to her kitchen while Gillian paid the driver. “Thank you,” she said to the hack driver, who tipped his hat to her and climbed back in his box.

  Gillian was readying to go into the house when the cabriolet started slowly rolling toward her. She was mildly surprised since she’d not seen anyone climb in it. The driver acted as if he’d been waiting for her arrival.

  She doubted if she knew the vehicle’s occupant. She’d not made the acquaintance of any of the neighbors on the street. Her life had been too busy taking care of Anthony.

  However, as the cabriolet drove by, a window curtain was pulled back. Jess smiled at her. It wasn’t just a friendly smile. Jess smiled as if she knew something Gillian would not like.


  Gillian turned, giving the woman her back.

  She went into the house, moving down the hall toward the back room Brian often used as a study at this hour of the day to go over papers and correspondence in private.

  He wasn’t there.

  She went up to the bedroom. No Brian.

  Kate was in the nursery with Anthony. Picking the baby up and giving him a kiss on his forehead, Gillian asked Kate, “Have you seen Lord Wright?”

  “Earlier, my lady. He was in the sitting room and then I believe he left.”

  How odd that Brian would leave without telling anyone where he was going.

  She didn’t worry about it overmuch. She had to prepare for dinner guests.

  However, by eight that evening, Brian still hadn’t made an appearance. It was embarrassing to admit to Fiona and Holburn that she didn’t know where her husband was. They sipped on drinks for an hour, making a fuss over the baby and catching up on news, and then Gillian had no choice but to serve dinner lest it be ruined.

  Seeing how upset she was, Holburn asked, “Do you want me to send one of my men around town in search for him?”

  “No, don’t do that,” Gillian said quickly but Fiona overrode her.

  “What if he is in trouble? Or has had an accident? Yesterday, we saw a coach that had slid on ice and gone off the road. It was terrible.”

  “He didn’t take a coach,” Gillian said. “We are still setting up our household and have been hiring hacks to take us around town.” But Fiona’s words did make her think of footpads and others who would hit a man over the head and rob him of his purse. Brian could take care of himself but what if he was in trouble. “Very well,” she said to Holburn. “I appreciate your kind offer and will take advantage of it.”

  One of the sometimes convenient things about being a duke was having a host of servants at hand. Holburn sent several of his in search of word of Brian.

  An hour later, when dinner was finished, the man returned and spoke to Holburn out in the foyer.

  “Well?” Fiona demanded when her husband returned to the room.

  “He found Wright,” Holburn said.

  “Where is he?” Gillian asked. Her first thought, her fear was that he was with Jess.

  “White’s. He’s in a game and doesn’t want to leave.”

  “In a game?” Gillian repeated.

  “Faro.”

  “Brian is gambling?” Gillian questioned. “He has never shown signs that gaming held an appeal for him.”

  “He was in the military,” Holburn said with a shrug. “If that isn’t taking a risk, I don’t know what is. Most military men of my acquaintance are hardened gamesters.”

  Gillian shook her head. “Did the servant tell him we’d sent for him?”

  Holburn hesitated. He glanced over at his wife and then pursed his lips.

  “Go on,” Gillian said. “If there is more, I wish to hear it.”

  “My man told him that you were concerned. He did it discreetly, of course.”

  “And my husband answered?” Gillian prodded, determined to hear all.”

  “That he was happy at the tables. He was losing,” Holburn continued. “And he was deeply in his cups.”

  “Wright was drunk? He has a good head for spirits,” Gillian said to Fiona as if to convince her, or make sense out of this new behavior. “He doesn’t overimbibe. Brian has been home every night since we’ve come to London.”

  “Perhaps he had plans you didn’t know about,” Holburn suggested gently.

  Gillian nodded. Of course, this was as it used to be between them. Back when they first married. Brian would go about his business and she’d find herself waiting for him to return home.

  Usually, he didn’t. Usually he lived with Jess.

  No wonder Jess was smiling as she drove by Gillian earlier that afternoon.

  Tears burned her eyes. She blinked them back. She wouldn’t cry over him. At least he wasn’t with Jess—she hoped.

  “Gillian, Wright is a good man,” Holburn was saying to her. “I’m certain he has an explanation.”

  “Of course,” she said tightly. She wished she hadn’t slept with him. She wished she could go back to the day he arrived at Huntleigh.

  Thankfully, Fiona said, “Gillian, do you wish us to stay or to leave?”

  “Don’t go because of this,” Gillian said, relieved her friend understood she wanted to be alone.

  “We aren’t,” Fiona said. “It’s been a lovely evening but the time has come to say good night.” She walked to Gillian and put her arms around her. “Anthony is a brawny babe. You are right to be proud of him.”

  Gillian didn’t speak. Her stomach was in knots.

  “Please don’t jump to conclusions,” Fiona warned. “The servant could have misunderstood or Wright might have good reasons for his behavior this evening. Perhaps he heard Holburn was coming to dinner and wished to avoid him.”

  Holburn frowned. “That may be true. I had planned to have some hard words with him until I saw you happy. Of course, now I am not so pleased.”

  “Wait until he comes home,” Fiona advised. “Listen to what he has to say.”

  If he came home.

  “You are right,” Gillian said, struggling to keep her voice light. However, the moment the door closed behind Fiona and Holburn, Gillian allowed all her doubts to return. She’d wait for Wright. He’d best come home this evening, and his story had better be good.

  And then, she grew angry.

  Anger was a good emotion. It made her feel strong. How dare he treat her this way?

  She sat down to wait for him. As the minutes passed into hours, she finally had to go to bed…but the waiting only made her angrier.

  She tossed and turned, unable to sleep and then lightly dozing—she heard the door open a short time after dawn.

  Brian came in. He seemed to move with his usual steady grace but she could smell the liquor on him. He removed his jacket, taking it into the dressing room. A few minutes later, he came out, naked, and lay on the bed beside her.

  For a long moment, Gillian was so stunned by his behavior, that he could stay out without any word of explanation or indication where he was, come home, and then climb into her bed as if her wishes had no merit, that she could barely think coherently.

  This was not what she wanted in a marriage. This was not how she would let him treat her.

  And then he did the unthinkable. He rolled on his side, turning his back to her, and with a heavy sigh, seemed to settle into sleep.

  Well, she couldn’t sleep. She wouldn’t sleep. Not with him beside her.

  With that thought in mind, Gillian took both her hands and shoved with all her might. He rolled off the bed like a log and onto the floor.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brian came awake with a start, stunned to find himself facedown on the floor.

  Admittedly, he’d been giving himself a steady dose of hot port all evening. Still, he’d never fallen out of his bed—

  A pillow slapped him hard in the head.

  “How dare you climb into my bed reeking of spirits?”

  He turned to see Gillian standing on her knees on the mattress. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders. The burning coals in the grate highlighted the anger on her face and her billowing night dress made her appear an avenging angel—full of outrage and fury and completely, gorgeously luscious at the same time.

  She hit him again with the pillow. “How dare you, Wright? How dare you?”

  Brian wasn’t one to allow himself to be plummeted, even with a pillow. He came to his feet, grabbing the pillow out of her hands and threw it across the room. “Dare I what?” he snapped. “Come to my own bed?”

  In spite of the drink, his mind was clear. The only thing the port seemed to have done, now that he’d been bounced off the floor, was make him feel reckless. The potent wine certainly had not been able to dull the pain of her betrayal.

  “You didn’t tell me you were leaving, Wright,” she sai
d. “You walked out of this house without one consideration to me.”

  “I walked out?” He laughed at the irony. He’d laid his heart out for her to trample and destroy and here she was complaining because he’d gone to his club.

  And yet, in spite of how angry her accusation made him, he still wanted her. She was so lovely. So brave, courageous, so everything a man could desire in a woman. “Why should I stay?” he whispered, speaking more to himself than her. “What keeps me here?”

  Her response was to take her fist and hit him in the shoulder. She was crying. He thought that strange. For what reason did she have to cry? She was leaving him and there was nothing he could do.

  “Holburn was here,” she said, her words tense with emotion. “I met him and his wife while out on errands and invited them to dinner. I told them everything was fine between us and then you didn’t show. And I didn’t know where you were and I’ve been worried that you’d been hurt and now I discover you made a fool of me, Wright. A fool—”

  “Oh no, dear wife,” he said, catching her arm by the wrist before she struck out at him again. “I made no more a fool of you than you have of me time and time again. And the curse is, I still want you. Damn you, Gillian, I still want you. I want to taste you and hold you and have you.” Even more, he wanted her to believe in him. He wanted her to choose him.

  She pulled back. “No.” Her eyes were like ice shards. “You won’t touch me. I won’t let you.”

  Brian laughed with the bitterness of self-realization. “I won’t take no. I can’t.” And he kissed her.

  This was not a questing kiss, the gentle question between lovers. He wanted to own her, possess her. Keep her.

  He’d steal her soul with his kiss if he could.

  Gillian fought. She tried to resist, but she couldn’t…any more than he could restrain himself against her. Her lips melded against his as she opened herself to him, and a surge of triumphant pride and blessed relief rose in him. Gillian could turn away from him but this part of her would never deny him. They had this.

  Their kiss deepened, changed, grew. Through it, he beseeched for her to understand. She held his soul in her hands. He begged her to not crush him.