Twilight with the Infamous Earl

by Alexandra Hawkins

  “Good, that’s good.” He walked away from her. Without stopping he said, “I used to say the same thing about your mother.”

  * * *

  Frost waited in the hotel lobby for his mother. What he had to say to her was best said in private, but he did not trust himself to be alone in the same room with her.

  She froze when she saw him. The flash of fear in her eyes revealed she wasn’t as stupid as he thought.

  “Good afternoon, Mother,” he said genially. He gestured for her to join him. “I hear you have decided not to leave England, after all. In fact, you have gone so far as to defy me by approaching my sister.”

  “Vincent,” she began.

  “Who did you think Regan would run straight to after you told your woeful tale about how you have been searching for a way back into your daughter’s arms?”

  “She was very upset with you.”

  Frost touched his cheek. “Aye, that she was, but don’t worry about it. We have had our squabbles. You will be pleased to know that Regan and I managed to work things out.”

  His mother was troubled by the news.

  “The risk you took is admirable,” he continued in a conversational tone. “Since I was being difficult, you turned to Regan and her husband in the hope that I would pay you whatever amount you named to get you to leave. Very devious.”

  “I have not lied to you, Vincent. I was curious about Regan. I have often wondered if she looked like me—”

  “She is nothing like you,” he said cuttingly. He sat back and smiled. “Or me. However, I will admit that you have made an impression on her.”

  “You are upset that she no longer views you as a saint. Saint Vincent.”

  He laughed. “Madam, if you remain in town, you will learn that no one credits me as being a saint. Least of all Regan.”

  Frost stared at her until she began to fidget. “Good news! You will be pleased to know that I have changed my mind.”

  His mother brightened. “On the amount we discussed. I can give you the name—”

  “It won’t be necessary. I have decided that denying you access to Regan is petty. You want to be a part of your daughter’s life, and Regan is pleased to have a mother again. I have come to welcome you to the family.”

  Frost stood and bowed. “I wish you well.”

  “Uh, wait … Vincent,” she said, rising and chasing after him. He didn’t halt until he had stepped outdoors. “There is the small matter of my expenses.”

  “Have the hotel send me your bills. I will settle the debt,” he offered. “Is there anything else?”

  “I need more than you settling my hotel bill, Vincent. I have other expenses.”

  “A difficult quandary to be certain.” He took a deep breath to deliberate on the problem. “I see no reason why I cannot continue to pay your blackmail. Since you’re back in the family, we’ll just call it your annual allowance.”

  She grabbed him by the arm. “Damn you, I told you, it’s not enough!”

  Frost shook off her hand. “Then I suggest you learn to live within your means.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Several days had slipped by before he had caught a glimpse of the elusive Miss Emily Cavell. Regan had told him that she had spoken to her at Lady Goodrick’s fete on Tuesday. Sin and Juliana had enjoyed her company at Lord and Lady Damsell’s late supper on the same evening. On Wednesday, Sophia and Isabel had introduced her to Lady Netherley. He was particularly distressed by this news, since the marchioness prided herself on being a successful matchmaker. The last thing he wanted was for Vane’s elderly mother to get it in her head that she needed to find a husband for Emily.

  There were numerous balls this evening, but no one had been able to tell him which one Emily would be attending. He had already searched two ballrooms; Lord and Lady Browett’s residence was his third stop.

  He swiftly paid his respects to his host and hostess, and moved on to finding the errant lady.

  Frost noted he was not the only Lord of Vice in attendance. Vane and Isabel were chatting with Lady Netherley and another woman. On the opposite side of the room, he saw Juliana, Sophia, and Reign. Juliana’s husband wasn’t with the small group, but he imagined Sin hadn’t strayed far from his lady.

  Frost raised his hand to acknowledge his friends. Reign beckoned him to join them. He headed in their direction but halted. Perhaps he should have a private word with Lady Netherley first.

  “Lord Chillingsworth,” a female voice called out, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Lady Gittens moving toward him.

  Frost took her hand and formally bowed. She curtsied. “Lady Gittens, it is good to see you again. I pray you have been enjoying our good weather.”

  She opened her fan and gave him a coy look. “Is that why I have not seen you, my lord? Have you been hunting?”

  “You know I cannot resist a challenging sport, my lady,” Frost said, preparing to take his leave.

  He did not wish to hurt the lady’s feelings, but their brief affair was finished. The decision had been made even before he had met Emily. However, Lady Gittens was not quite ready to let him go, and situations like this often resulted in dramatic tantrums—something he preferred to avoid this evening.

  “If it is sport you desire, perhaps we should adjourn to the back gardens, my lord.”

  Her meaning was clear, and there had been a time when he would have willingly followed her into the gardens or anyplace they could have stolen a few minutes to play their wicked games.

  “I must regretfully decline, my lady.”

  It had been on the tip of his tongue to say, Perhaps another time. However, the simple creature would merely take him at his word.

  Her face fell at his polite rejection. A gentleman accidentally bumped into her, giving her the opportunity to move closer.

  “I wish you would reconsider,” she said, stroking his arm. “My afternoons have not been the same without you, Frost.”

  Frost felt the stirrings of regret. He should have ended his relationship with the lady weeks earlier. “You will find someone else to amuse you, Maryann.”

  “Let’s go upstairs,” she coaxed. “Give me a chance to change your mind.”

  Frost didn’t hear a single word. He had glanced over Lady Gittens’s shoulder, and his gaze locked with Emily’s. She was far enough away that she shouldn’t have heard the widow’s invitation, but her pained expression revealed that she had deduced he was speaking to one of his former lovers.

  “Damn,” he murmured, removing Lady Gittens’s hand from his sleeve. “I must go.”

  “I—what?” The widow turned around to see the reason for Frost’s abandonment, catching a glimpse of Emily as she walked away. Her eyes narrowed. “Who is she?”

  Frost did not bother answering her. He had to find Emily before she thought the worst of him.

  It was probably too late.

  * * *

  With her chin held high, Emily did not know where she was heading. She pushed her way through the crowd, needing to get away from all of these people—away from Frost.

  Emily had not been introduced to the lady he had been speaking to, but there had been an air of familiarity between them. She saw how close they had stood with their heads bowed in a private conversation; the woman caressed his coat sleeve.

  That woman had been his mistress.

  Emily was certain of it. Tears were to be expected, but her eyes were dry. She was too furious to cry. As for her face, there was nothing to be done. Her pale complexion revealed too much; if she had any sense she would start spending more time in the sun to darken her skin.

  “Emily!”

  She stared blankly at the smiling brown-haired woman whom she had almost collided with. Emily had been so distracted by Frost and his mystery woman, it took her a moment to recall the name of a lady she had spoken to on several occasions.

  Lady Vanewright. Isabel. She was the wife of one of Frost’s friends. Another Lord of Vice. Her mouth trembled. She h
ad to get out of this ballroom before she did something foolish.

  “My apologies, Isabel. I cannot—I have to get away.” Emily gulped. “There are too many people. Please.”

  The countess took one look at her face and simply said, “Come with me.”

  She took Emily’s hand and together they made their way to one of the side doors that opened into a passageway. Guests and servants filled this area as well, but Isabel had another destination in mind. When she reached the stairs, she urged Emily to descend them.

  “Earlier, I was looking for my husband and discovered this small room,” she explained, opening the door. “We are in luck. It is still empty. The door over there leads to the library. Since most of the guests are upstairs, this is likely the quietest room in the house.”

  “Thank you.” She was unsure if she should reveal anything else. “You should return to your husband. I will be fine.”

  Isabel hesitated, her brown eyes full of warmth and compassion. “Vane saw me leave with you. He will assume we left to find a quiet place to talk if I do not return to the ballroom. I can see that you are distressed. Is there something I can do? Can I get someone for you?”

  Emily shook her head. “No. I just—I am being foolish.”

  “Is this about Frost?”

  Startled, she gaped at the other woman. “How did you guess?”

  Isabel pressed her lips together as if she was struggling not to laugh. “Well, it wasn’t much of a guess. Vane and I saw Frost enter the ballroom. He didn’t join us and he seemed distracted, as if he was looking for someone. We assumed it was you.”

  “Why me?” There were more than two hundred guests packed into that narrow ballroom. “And you are wrong. I was not the lady Frost was seeking.”

  “Oh no!” The countess seemed genuinely upset on her behalf. “Though I suppose it isn’t too surprising. After all, we are talking about Frost. Still, he seems genuinely fond of you. Even my husband had made a small wager with—” Isabel smiled, realizing she had said too much.

  Before Emily could press the lady further, the door opened and the last man she wanted to see was standing in the doorway. He braced his hand on the frame of the door, looking slightly disheveled and out of breath.

  “Isabel, your husband is looking for you.”

  A mutinous expression flashed across her delicate features. “Vane is aware that I am with Emily.”

  “Regardless, your husband is expecting you. Upstairs. Now.” Frost stepped aside, clearing the threshold for the countess’s departure. “I would hate to see that unblemished flesh marred with bruises.”

  Emily gasped, distressed by the thought that the lady might be punished because of her. “Maybe you should go. I will be fine.”

  Isabel glared at Frost. “Don’t listen to him, Emily.” She marched up to the earl. “My husband doesn’t beat me.”

  Frost smiled benignly at her. “Well, maybe he should.”

  The countess glanced back at her. “I wish you luck, Emily. You’re going to need it.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Frost stared at Emily, attempting to deduce how angry she was at him. Would she try to run away from him? Grab the gold-and-black lacquer vase and throw it at his head? Or would she be provoked to violence, as his sister had been, and try to slap him? Would he even try to stop her, he wondered. He was not guilty of any wrongdoing. Nevertheless, his past sins were numerous, and often he had escaped any real punishment.

  “I hope I was not interrupting anything important,” he said politely, assuming the ladies had been discussing him. Isabel was a sweet-natured lady who seemed to like him well enough, but Frost was not counting on her to defend him.

  Emily’s mouth thinned with her obvious displeasure. “If you would stand aside, I will take my leave as well, my lord.”

  A gentleman would have done as she had asked. Instead he shut the door and locked it. He pocketed the key. “Not until we have had a chance to talk.”

  “I have nothing to say to you.” Her sulky pout was endearing. “Now give me that key.”

  He parted his hands, palms forward, and offered her what he considered a disarming smile. “I must regretfully refuse. However, you are welcome to come closer and try to take it from me.”

  Fury flashed in her hazel eyes. Frost tensed, his muscles readying for her response. Emily ran toward the pier table that displayed the lacquer vase, and he had visions of blood and shattered porcelain. She managed to surprise him by veering to the right, which placed the sofa between them.

  “Are we playing a game of chase, Emily?” he asked, not moving from his position at the door.

  “No, I am getting away from you!”

  Emily grabbed the front of her skirt and dashed to the side door at the far end of the room. She violently twisted the doorknob, only to discover that it was locked.

  “A pity you don’t have a key,” he said blandly, walking toward her. “If you ask me nicely, I might give you mine.”

  “You disgust me.”

  “Of course, you could always pound on the door. Maybe someone will hear you on the other side,” he helpfully suggested. Before she could act on it, he added, “Though the plan does come with some risks. Whoever opens the door will know you are alone in the room with me.”

  Frost caught her easily when she charged him. He laughed as he whirled her about, savoring the feel of her as she struggled in his arms.

  “Give me that key!” she raged at him.

  “No.”

  A sound of frustration escaped her lips as he spun her around and pushed her up against the nearest wall. As he had anticipated, Emily tried to slip her hands into his evening coat to retrieve the key, but he was stronger and quicker. He captured her wrists and pinned her arms over her head.

  “Let me go!”

  “I think not.” He laughed as he used his hips to hold her in place. “This position gives me all sorts of ideas.”

  Emily stopped struggling, and the hurt look she gave him cut him in half. “Please. You are being cruel.”

  “And you, my green-eyed lady, are jealous.”

  The accusation brought her stubborn chin up. “I most certainly am not jealous.”

  “Truly? Then why did seeing me speaking to another lady send you running out of the Browetts’ ballroom?” He had seen the confusion and the pain on her face before she had turned away.

  “I walked out of the ballroom,” she corrected. “There were too many people, and I sought a quiet refuge. Isabel decided to join me, having discovered this room earlier.”

  “Kiss me.”

  Her eyes widened in astonishment. “You expect me to kiss you?”

  “If I misunderstood your hasty departure, then you should have no excuse not to kiss me.” His hooded gaze dropped to her mouth. “The carnal liberties you granted me in your bedchamber have haunted me since our parting. Just one kiss. Prove you aren’t vexed with me.”

  He lowered his head. She turned her face away.

  “Ah, I see.” He indulged himself by caressing her cheek with his lips. “So you are jealous.”

  Outraged by his accusation, she tilted back her head to deny the charge. “I am not—”

  Frost kissed her. Firm and full of pent-up frustration, his mouth moved over hers possessively. Emily tried to keep her lips pressed together, but he was in no mood to be patient. Releasing her wrists, his right hand cupped her chin and coaxed her to open her mouth for him. His tongue laved her lower lip, slipping inside. Frost moaned. He half expected her to bite him, but after a minute she melted against him.

  Emily gripped the upper sleeves of his evening coat and pulled him closer. Her tongue dueled against his until she was the one filling his mouth, a desperate claiming that made his cock swell with need. His hand moved from her throat to her breast.

  Frost remembered how her puckered nipples tasted against his tongue. Since that night, his thoughts kept returning to perfection of her breasts as he cupped them in his hands, the firm flatness of
her belly, and how she cried out in ecstasy when he pleasured her with his mouth. He had been wrong. One taste had not been enough.

  The virginal Emily Cavell had left this greedy scoundrel hungry for more.

  Forgetting once again to breathe, Emily ended their kiss so she could take a few breaths. “Oh, Frost.”

  “You have no reason to be jealous, Em,” he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I only want you.”

  Emily lowered her gaze. “Is she your mistress?”

  Frost hesitated, uncertain if she truly wanted the truth. Most women did not want to know the details of a lover’s past, but Emily still had doubts about him. Lies would only damn him.

  “Yes,” he admitted, and he could feel her body stiffening, mentally shying away from him. She would have moved away from him if he had not caged her against the wall with his body. “Or rather she was. It was a brief affair, and I had already ended it before we met.”

  “Did you tell her?” Emily gave him a peevish look. “Ivy is less clingy.”

  Frost chuckled. “There is no need to be jealous, love. I have no desire to renew my friendship with the lady.”

  “I told you, I wasn’t jealous.” At his raised eyebrow, she loftily admitted, “I was concerned.”

  “Well, I will have to think of a way to distract you.”

  Emily let out a shriek of surprise when he whirled her around. She stumbled backward, and Frost caught her before she could fall, laying her gently on the sofa cushions.

  He tugged off his gloves as he knelt beside her. He placed a hand on her ankle.

  “Frost … no, you mustn’t.”

  “You have a fondness for the word no,” he grumbled.

  Frost was unused to a lady refusing his advances. Females of all ages adored him. He would never force himself on Emily, but he was not above applying a little persuasion.

  “You have pretty ankles.”

  Emily giggled. “You should not be admiring my ankles.”

  “How can I resist such delicate bones? I want to put my mouth on them, nibble this particular spot … right here.” Using his finger, he traced the indentation between her ankle bone and heel. “And then I would grow bolder.”