Taking the Earl (Heiress Games Book 3)

by Sara Ramsey

  The room was square, perhaps twenty feet on each side — larger than he’d expected of a room buried underground. Crates and chests were stacked along the walls, but they were works of art in their own right — ebony, mahogany, teak, and other precious woods, secured with well-polished bands and locks. Elaborate wall sconces held large candles, casting a warm glow and illuminating the tapestries that covered sections of each wall. A pile of thick carpets banished the chill from the stone floor.

  He could only dream of what was contained in the trunks. But the walls gave him a hint. A pair of crossed swords, a mace, two shields, and a battle-ax hung in positions of prominence — well-made but worn, like they’d been used for battle before they’d become decorative. They gleamed in the candlelight, kept polished and ready even though swords were no longer quite the thing for defense.

  But it was, as always, the jewels that captivated him.

  He walked to the shelf across from the door, under the crossed swords. The shelf was lined with white satin, and the set of jewels directly under the crossed swords winked at him.

  The Briarley rubies.

  He touched the main pendant of the necklace, unable to help himself.

  Behind him, Lucy laughed. “I thought you might like to see them. Usually they’re covered, but I took off the cloth before you came in.”

  They were even more magnificent than he could have guessed from the painting. The necklace contained twenty-two rubies, spaced in between by pearls and diamonds, set in so much gold that the metal alone was more valuable than any job he’d completed in his early days. The pendant that dropped from the chain was the largest ruby he’d ever seen in his life. The matching earrings, bracelet, and ring were equally impressive. They were jewels fit for a queen, not a mere countess. The rubies were perfect for a woman with Lucy’s coloring — but the confidence with which she carried herself would turn them into something spectacular.

  “They would look beautiful on you, Lucy,” he said.

  He had no idea why he said it. It was too close to the conversation he’d promised her, the same one he wanted to avoid.

  Too close to a declaration. And, for himself, entirely too close to feelings he wasn’t ready or able to consider.

  Maybe she felt equally unready. She laughed lightly, but there was an edge to the sound. “We’re several steps away from any future in which I might wear the Briarley rubies as the mother of the next heir. Shall we see if the Bible is here before we discuss other business?”

  He turned away from the rubies, pretending that they were nothing more than a beautiful curiosity. There were other shelves beside and below that one, also lined with satin, but the cloths covering those shelves remained in place. He had no idea how many jewels were in the room — but his family could start an extravagant new life by taking everything that was out in the open, even without pilfering any of the cases.

  He couldn’t take them yet, though. He still had to get through the rest of Lucy’s plan to find the Bible. “Which case is Callie’s?”

  Lucy gestured to a corner where the boxes were smaller and much less impressive. “A few guests asked us to keep their valuables safe for them. It will be one of those.”

  They looked through the boxes. Callie’s was immediately obvious; her initials were prominently embossed in tooled leather. But when Lucy knelt and tried the lid, it was locked.

  She sat back on her heels. “What are we going to do? Steal the whole thing?”

  Max took a breath. It was a horrible idea to show Lucy what he knew about opening locks. But if he and his siblings held to their plan, he would disappear the following night. He could keep her suspicions at bay until then.

  If he left the Bible alone and it proved he was an imposter, Thorington and Callie might have him thrown out of Maidenstone as soon as they arrived. It would be much harder to break back in to the house if the staff was watching for him and knew that he was a liar.

  So he said, carefully, “I could open it. I worked with a locksmith when I was young.”

  The lie came easily. And when she looked excited instead of skeptical, he reached into his waistcoat and pulled out his lock picks.

  “You really would be the perfect Lord Maidenstone,” she said as he knelt beside her and slid the first bit of metal into the lock. “They’re all made for adventure.”

  That wistful, odd note was back in her voice. He told himself to ignore it. But this lock wasn’t enough distraction to keep him from wondering about her. As the latch popped open, he glanced at her.

  “If you could have an adventure, what would it be?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Run away to the Caribbean and become a pirate queen. See all the wonders of the Holy Land. Sail the South Seas and come back with tattoos and a treasure chest full of pearls.”

  He laughed. “Those are very adventurous adventures. Are you sure you aren’t made for having them?”

  She looked up into his eyes, and he was startled by the depth of feeling in them — something dark, sad, but also fierce, as though this was a war she’d fought within herself for a long time. “I was. But I can’t think only of myself anymore.”

  “Someone else could take care of Maidenstone in your absence.”

  “It’s not just Maidenstone…” she started to say. But then she shook her head. “Bible first. We can talk of adventure later.”

  He didn’t press her. He opened the lid. The first thing he saw was a tray of jewels. None were as impressive as the Briarley rubies — but he would happily take them anyway.

  Lucy pulled the tray aside. Under it, she found a child’s doll, dressed in a faded, tattered silk dress. She held it up, more intrigued by the doll than the jewels. “I didn’t know Callie had a doll to match the ones Octavia and I had,” she said. “Why would she treat this like a treasure?”

  Max didn’t care about dolls. He carefully brushed through the remaining items in the chest. It was an odd assortment. Another flask of cognac. A spyglass. A sketch of the Maidenstone clearing, signed with Tiberius’s name. A lock of blonde hair — perhaps her mother’s? And two tiny white christening gowns that saddened him, even though he had no idea of the story behind them.

  Lucy sensed his hesitation. She touched the lace on one of them, smoothing it out. “Grandfather heard that Callie’s mother gave birth several times on their journeys, but none of the other children survived. I can’t believe Tiberius dragged his wife all over the world when she should have been safe in London.”

  “So much for your talk of adventure,” Max said, setting the gowns aside.

  “Adventures are all well and good until there are babies involved. Would you take your wife and children with you if you were forced to run away from England?”

  Max shrugged. “If I thought I had to run, I wouldn’t put myself in the position of having children to worry about.”

  They found the Bible at the very bottom of the trunk. He heard Lucy’s swift intake of breath as he touched the embossed cover. “Do you want to do the honors?” he asked.

  She took the book from him. He guessed that her reverence had more to do with the book’s role in her family’s history than it did with any religious faith. She opened it to the record of family deaths.

  The first earl’s descendants were on the first page. She ran her finger over the lists. The deaths were clustered in a span of several years, most with a special symbol beside them. “What does that mean?” he asked, pointing.

  “Someone who died at the hands of another Briarley,” she said absently. “But your ancestor isn’t listed.”

  She flipped to the listing of births and marriages. Again, the first earl’s children were listed together. The last entry under his name was Valerian Briarley. Beside Valerian’s name, two wives were listed — one who had died before the first earl’s death and another whose date of death wasn’t included.

  Lucy gasped.

  “What?” Max asked.

  There were no descendants listed under Valerian and
his wives. The dates of Max’s other records matched this, though. None of the changes he and Titus had made in other church records were actually material — they’d tidied things up to make the chain of descent more obvious and make sure the records were in the right churches, but every other link was valid. If Valerian had actually been a Briarley….

  Lucy looked at him with stars in her eyes. “The only thing that worried me about your papers was that Valerian’s first wife had died before you claimed your ancestor had been born. If Valerian wasn’t married to your ancestor’s mother, he would have been a bastard, and your whole line would have been illegitimate. But this record proves that Valerian was legally married to her before your ancestor was born.”

  Max’s heart nearly stopped.

  “What?” he asked again, unable to be more eloquent.

  She grinned at him. “It means you are the real Lord Maidenstone.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Max looked as stunned as if she’d hit him over the head with the Bible rather than handing it to him.

  He sat back on his heels. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Truly? You are the one who came here to make the claim,” she pointed out.

  “Yes, but I never expected it to hold water. I always assumed the stories my father told were fairy tales.”

  He rarely referenced his family — by design, most likely, since she’d told him she didn’t expect him to share anything truthful until he was legally declared the earl. With the proof they needed right in front of them, she could indulge her curiosity.

  “What stories did he tell you?” she asked, carefully setting the Bible aside.

  Max shrugged. “He had too many dreams, too many children, and not enough money. He had a small teashop in London — he sold tea to your grandfather, among others. When I was small, I believed him when he said we could have been Briarleys if our luck had been different. But when my father died and Lord Maidenstone didn’t acknowledge me or pay his final debts, I assumed it had all been another dream of his.”

  “Grandfather always paid his debts,” Lucy said.

  The glance he gave her said that he thought she was naïve at best. “Don’t be surprised that he didn’t. Most lords don’t pay in a timely manner. He ignored me the day I called on him, desperate for money after my father died.”

  “That doesn’t sound like him,” she retorted. But another detail in his story had caught her attention. “Why do you say your father had too many children? Were there others between you and Cressida?”

  “You’re curious tonight, aren’t you?” he said, after a pause that was long enough to be noticeable.

  “These are questions I would have asked before if I’d thought you could give me answers without harming your chance to inherit. Now, though — you know you can have everything here, right?”

  “Everything?” he drawled.

  The look he gave her was suddenly heated.

  His gaze dropped to her lips, and she licked them without thinking. “Everything,” she said, matching his look with one of her own. She wasn’t made for adventure, but she knew she wasn’t a saint.

  “Men from my class can never have everything,” he said softly. “That’s your world, Lucy, not mine.”

  “No one can have everything, no matter their class.” Then she took a breath, gathered every ounce of courage, and said, “But Maidenstone is yours. As am I, if you’ll have me.”

  “What happened to wanting an adventure?” he said.

  His voice was light and his eyes were shadowed. She knew he was rebuffing her, knew how this game was supposed to be played. But it didn’t hurt as much as it should have. She couldn’t bring herself to become indignant or to walk away.

  He hadn’t expected any of this to happen. He didn’t think he deserved it. He was convinced that he would lose it. And if his father had died and left him with nothing, she could understand how that might make him less secure in his good fortune now.

  She knew how that felt. She’d been half-convinced for months that she would lose Maidenstone, even though she’d planned to do everything she could to keep it. But now, with hindsight, she knew Emma had been right — Lucy hadn’t made any serious effort with any of the suitors. She’d already thought she had lost. Marrying one of them would have ruined her life if she’d been stuck with a bad husband and still lost Maidenstone.

  Max, though — he was the first one whom she would gladly take even if she got nothing at all in return.

  And she couldn’t let him walk away now, whether he was the rightful heir to Maidenstone or not.

  The sudden clarity shook her. But her Briarley heart whispered mine, as it never had for anyone else.

  She took a breath, willing him to hear the truth in her voice. “You would be enough of an adventure for me.”

  He laughed, but it no longer sounded light. “You’re more right than you know, sweetheart.”

  He returned the Bible to Callie’s chest. She stayed silent as he repacked the trunk, leaving nothing out of place. When he’d finished, he let his hand rest on the top of the chest as though he was saying a prayer.

  “What are you afraid of, Max?” she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper to match the heavy silence of the buried strongroom.

  “None of this is what I expected.” He paused, but she waited until he continued, his voice almost inaudible. “You aren’t what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  He turned to face her fully, close enough that their legs brushed against each other. “I never expected you to support my claim,” he said.

  She tilted her head. “I don’t think that’s what you meant.”

  His laugher sounded almost pained. “You never let me get away with anything, do you?”

  “Do you want me to be the perfect society miss with no opinions?” she asked. “It might be a struggle.”

  He laughed again, but the pain was gone. “I cannot imagine a world in which you would succeed at that. But no. I love your opinions.”

  Chapman had never liked it when she spoke her real mind. Most men didn’t.

  Max, though, was something else entirely. And he seemed to want her, not her body or her estate or the idea of claiming her as some sort of trophy. Even if he was currently trying rather desperately to deny it.

  “Then what did you expect here, Max?”

  “I expected that my claim was invalid. I expected that I would leave in the end and return to my old life. I mostly came on a lark — I wanted to see how the Briarleys lived, and perhaps give Cress a chance to meet a man above her station. But I never expected the chance to stay.”

  Something with his explanation rang false — only hours earlier, he’d been warning Cress away from the men at the party. But the subconscious, whispered warning couldn’t compete with the way her heart pounded when he looked at her. His smile grew crooked. His eyes were somehow warm and sad all at once.

  “I never expected how tempted I would be by you,” he continued. “I had a plan for my life. And you’re tempting me to abandon all of it and stay.”

  “Be tempted,” she said. “Stay. You can’t possibly leave if you’re the heir.”

  “It’s not Maidenstone that I’m tempted by,” he said, touching her cheek.

  There was so much she didn’t know about him, or why he was really there, or what he’d hoped to gain if he had always believed that his claim would be disproved. But she was sure she could trust the look in his eyes and the warmth of his touch.

  “It’s not Maidenstone that I’m doing this for either,” she whispered, placing her hand over his when he started to pull away.

  Their gazes met. In the candlelight, in Maidenstone’s most secret place, there was no one to catch them, no thought of the other people who relied upon them. It’s not that she forgot, precisely, about Julia or Emma or the servants and tenants — she never could. But there, alone, she could make a choice for her own sake, not theirs.

  So she leaned forward, slowl
y, his hand still on her cheek. When his fingers shifted to her neck, no longer passive, she smiled.

  And then she kissed him. It was slow and sensual, as though neither of them wanted to disturb whatever spell had been cast upon them — as though they both still feared that they could lose it all with the slightest misstep.

  But there was nothing in that kiss that felt like a mistake. She lingered over his closed lips, sliding her hand to his cheek and reveling in the contrast between the warmth of his kiss and the hard plane of his jaw. He let her linger for awhile, but for once, he was not a patient man.

  He shifted and pulled her into his lap. His lips found hers again, and it felt like he was claiming her — branding her, with the heat of his mouth on hers and his heavy hand still resting on her hip.

  She didn’t care anymore if this was a bad idea. She could almost tell herself she didn’t even care if it lasted.

  This was the adventure she wanted.

  He knew what he was doing with his mouth. Chapman’s kisses had tasted like alcohol, stolen in dark corners and never quite what she wanted. But Max kissed her like he was worshipping her. He kissed her like he couldn’t believe his luck.

  That feeling was heady. He kissed her until she was out of breath — and kept kissing her until she learned how to breathe with him, until she learned how a kiss could keep her alive.

  She’d never felt more alive than this. The realization startled her — startled her even more when she noticed that his hands were moving down her décolletage to cup her breasts.

  Her nipples tightened under his hands. It was cool in the strongroom, but she felt like she was burning — so hot, suddenly, that she would have stripped her dress off of her own volition just to get some air.

  But he’d beaten her to that thought. One of his hands dropped to her ankle, skimming up her leg and pulling her skirts with it. The graze of his fingers felt dangerous. No one had done this since Chapman….

  She wouldn’t think about Chapman.

  Max’s mouth left hers. She whimpered when he did and was ashamed of the sound — it sounded animalistic, like a woman who couldn’t control herself.