The Untouchable Earl

by Amy Sandas

  “I am afraid I must insist upon an audience, my lord.”

  Avenell tensed at the familiar, sultry tones of Madam Pendragon, but he still did not look up from the flickering dance of glowing red against charred black.

  “My lord?” Keene’s question hung in the air.

  “I know my presence here at your home is rather intrusive, but I promise I shall take only a few moments of your time,” Pendragon added smoothly.

  Avenell gave a nod. He heard Keene back from the room and then the rustle of bombazine and silk as the madam came forward. A gentleman would stand to greet her properly, but he remained where he was, sitting stiffly in the leather wingback chair, his feet braced on the floor, his gaze straight ahead.

  If the woman expected courtesy when she invaded his private space uninvited, she would be waiting a long time.

  “Do you mind if I join you for a drink, my lord?” There was amusement in her tone.

  “As you wish.”

  A few moments later, the madam crossed in front of him, a snifter in hand. Rather than taking a seat, she walked to the fireplace where she turned to face him. He wondered briefly if she had remained standing to throw emphasis on his discourtesy or if she simply preferred the more dominant position.

  He noted that she wore a long black pelisse over her gown, and a veiled hat sat perched jauntily on her blond head. The veil had been pushed back, and she stared at him with a curious glint in her green eyes.

  “State your purpose, madam. I am not in the mood for extended company.”

  She smiled. “I can see that, my lord. My purpose in coming here tonight is to discover why.”

  Avenell frowned, not appreciating the cryptic response.

  The madam arched a brow and sighed. “It has come to my attention that you have not visited your private suite in more than a week. Has the accommodation not been to your satisfaction?”

  He shifted his attention back to the fire. Such an inquiry certainly did not warrant a personal visit. “The suite is fine. I have no further use for it.”

  “And the girl?”

  He stiffened sharply at her audacity, the movement causing a prickle of fire across his skin.

  Not waiting for him to respond, Pendragon made a graceful gesture with her brandy as she continued, “Forgive me for being so forward, my lord, but I have never been known for my subtleties. I feel the girl is somewhat my responsibility, since my actions put her into your hands. Have you discarded her so soon?”

  Rising swiftly to his feet, Avenell slid his snuffbox into his pocket and downed the last of his brandy before striding to the side bar to pour himself another.

  “You overstep, madam,” he growled in reply.

  “I think not.”

  Avenell turned to face her. Despite her languid posture, there was a hardness in her expression.

  “Your concern is rather belated, don’t you think?” he replied coldly. “The girl would have been far better served if she had never come under your influence.”

  The madam’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps, but circumstances beyond her control, or mine, placed her in my keeping. I did what I could to protect her from further harm and provide her with a possibility for future happiness. I believed in you to take care of the rest, my lord.”

  “Then you put your faith in the wrong man.”

  She smiled. “Again, I disagree.”

  Avenell’s anger was too close to the surface to endure much more of Pendragon’s conversation. “I do not give a damn,” he snapped. “The truth cannot be changed. Whatever you had intended failed. The affair was doomed to disaster from the start.”

  Pendragon stalked toward him, an uncharacteristic frown marring her smooth brow. “You cannot possibly be so obtuse, my lord.”

  He ground his back teeth but said nothing.

  “Tell me you did not spend all of those nights with her and never spread her thighs to claim your prize.”

  A growl of fury rumbled from his chest at the crudity in her words, but the sound did not seem to bother Pendragon one bit.

  She actually laughed at his response. “Of course you did, my lord, as I knew you would. It was the final barrier you had yet to cross in your search for pleasure.”

  “It signifies nothing.”

  Her green eyes glittered. “It signifies everything.”

  The woman turned away from him and strode toward the chair he had recently vacated. With a swish of her skirts, she turned and lowered herself gracefully. Tipping her head, she looked at him with a superior little half smile.

  “What did you feel when you took possession of your gentle maiden?”

  Her words might have been mocking if not for her expression, which had settled into one of patient nonjudgment. It was the same way she had looked at him the first time he had gone to her.

  “Think carefully. What did you feel?”

  Avenell’s gut tensed as he involuntarily recalled the sensations of being buried within Lily’s warmth and softness. He relived in his mind the way their naked bodies moved together, heard her endless gasps and moans echo, felt the overwhelming heat, the pervading pleasure. Every time they came together it was intense and consuming, obliterating everything else in existence.

  That was the problem. He always felt too much with her.

  And despite that, he had never been able to shake his yearning for more.

  “Was there pain, my lord?” Pendragon’s question intruded into Avenell’s thoughts.

  He glanced up from where he had been staring with unseeing eyes at carpet beneath his feet.

  “No,” he answered roughly. His pain did not intrude while he made love to Lily.

  It was only afterward that his nerves rebelled in force. Often leaving him shaken and breathless as he fought to regain control. That was when reality would return, and Avenell had not been able to escape the certainty that he would never have the kind of normalcy he craved. The pain that accompanied that conviction had gone beyond the physical and had been more debilitating than his affliction had ever been.

  “And what does that tell you?” she pressed as though she were a governess intent upon drilling some incomprehensible lesson into her pupil’s stubborn brain.

  Avenell grew frustrated. Yes, he had felt true pleasure with Lily, the kind that he never expected to feel again. But there was far more at stake than sexual release.

  “It tells me nothing to change the fact that she is better off without me.”

  “That may be true, my lord, or it may not. Such is for the lady to decide, I would think.” She rose gracefully to her feet and drained her snifter of the expensive brandy in one long swallow before sending him a flickering glance filled with meaning. “What you should be considering very carefully is whether or not you are better off without her.”

  After setting her empty glass aside, she lifted her hands to draw the veil down over her face once again, adding, “Though I do appreciate your business, my lord, I will completely understand if you choose not to visit my establishment in the future. I shall leave you to the rest of your evening.”

  Avenell barely acknowledged her departure. He remained frozen in place for a long time afterward.

  Was he better off in this state of regret and constant longing?

  Better off than what? The potential for loss? The fear of rejection? The frustration of never truly being like other men? The unflagging certainty that he would never be able to give her everything she deserved?

  She is better off without me.

  Such is for the lady to decide, I would think.

  Details of the woman herself began to penetrate his thoughts. The generosity in her smile. Her gentle, open gaze. The way she had told him her secrets with trust and honesty, her compassion, and her quiet, understated courage.

  And before he so effectively and willfully crushed i
t, he recalled the glimmer of hope she had inspired in him. The hope he had stripped away before it could settle too deeply in his being.

  So many times, he had sensed in her a desire to push their intimacy further. He had seen the yearning in her eyes and ignored it. He had witnessed the countless times she reached for him and then held back. He had been grateful for her restraint. He had been a coward.

  He understood that she had known better all along. She had understood what was missing between them.

  Rather than having the courage to explore those feelings—instead of trusting in her and her love—he had forced her away.

  The truth was so clear.

  From the very beginning, she had belonged to him, but not as a mistress belonged to her protector.

  Lily was his as his soul was his. Just as he was hers.

  She was a part of him. He was a part of her. He could not exist without her. And if he loved her, he had to trust that she had spoken the truth when she had said she wanted him, flaws and all.

  He did. He did trust her.

  He swept his gaze to the clock on the mantel.

  It was not terribly late. She may still be at Lord Somersby’s reception. He needed to speak with her immediately. Now that he understood, he could not allow another moment to pass without finding her and telling her every bit of what he had been keeping from her. He had to make up for his lack of trust.

  He prayed she would give him that chance.

  Dashing into the hall, he called for Keene to order his carriage.

  When he had gone about acquiring a list of all the invitations the Chadwicks had accepted, it had been with the intention of ensuring he did not inadvertently encounter Lily. He needn’t have bothered, since he had not left his house since the last time he had seen her.

  But he was grateful for his foresight, since he knew exactly where to look for her.

  Or at least he had thought he did.

  Twenty minutes later, to his deep frustration and distress, he crossed from the Somersbys’ drawing room to their conservatory in rushed strides, his gaze sweeping over every occupant. From there he explored each of the smaller individual parlor rooms and then the library, the billiard room, even the host’s study in a desperate search for a glimpse of her rich, brown hair and generous smile. But every minute of searching only increased his anxiety and impatience as he found no evidence of Lily or the other members of her family anywhere. If she had been at the Somersby party at all, she had left early.

  But just to be sure, he stayed at the reception another hour, making repeated rounds of every room.

  Finally, dejected and angry for the wasted time, he realized he was not going to see her that night.

  He would need to call on her at her home and somehow find a way to speak with her privately. He just hated that it would have to wait until tomorrow.

  Morose but determined, he returned home. Keene greeted him at the door, taking his hat and overcoat as he always did. When Avenell would have started toward the stairs to retire in the quiet darkness of his bedroom, the butler cleared his throat.

  “You have another caller, my lord. I told her you were not at home, but the young lady insisted upon waiting.” The elderly servant pursed his long features. “She is in the library.”

  Just as Avenell had detected the unspoken information in Keene’s introduction of Madam Pendragon, he understood what the butler did not say about this visitor, and he knew in a flash of certainty and elation that it was Lily.

  She had come to him.

  Twenty-eight

  Lily’s stomach tightened with trepidation. She had not considered the possibility that the earl would not be at home when she had made the decision to speak with him.

  His butler had given her an odd look when he had answered her knock. Though he had likely been roused from his bed, he appeared in perfect attire. When he informed her the earl was not home, she felt her courage trying to flee, but she caught it in time. This was far too important to turn tail at the slightest bit of conflict. She stood firm and insisted upon waiting.

  With a disdainful nod, the butler let her in and led her to a handsome library and lit just enough candles to cast an uneven glow into the room.

  Lily was too anxious to sit, so she stood where the butler left her, staring at the doorway, twisting her hands beneath her cloak. She had no idea what she would say. She knew only one thing—she was no longer content to allow life to happen around her. It was past time for her to claim some of her own momentum if she was to get what she desired most.

  He had broken her heart. She had never felt the kind of devastation she had experienced when he had rejected the love she offered. But even that had not been as bad as contemplating his absence from the rest of her life.

  She simply hadn’t been able to do it.

  The days without him had been unbearable, but she had gotten through them with the very basic belief that it could not possibly be over. Everything she had ever felt for him still thrived within her, had perhaps even grown stronger.

  Tonight, she was determined to discover if any chance remained. She had to know if he could ever learn to trust her and want her in the way she wanted him. Completely. Forever.

  It seemed like an age passed before she heard a sound in the hall. She stared at the door, half expecting to see the butler returning to show her out.

  Instead, Avenell entered the room, carrying himself with purpose, his steps long and determined. His midnight eyes were locked upon her, as though she were the only thing in existence.

  The intensity of his focus lit her body with thousands of tiny sparks. Her breath stopped. Her insides melted from just being in his presence, though her trepidation refused to ease.

  For a moment, she feared she had conjured him from the heart of her deepest longing.

  But longing alone could not account for the riot of emotions within her.

  “You should not be here, Lily.”

  She was encouraged by his tone. He would not sound so harsh if he felt nothing.

  “I do not think propriety need be an issue between us now. Not after what we have shared,” she added in a quiet murmur. “I had to speak with you.”

  “What happened between us…” His eyes darkened to black. “I made a mistake—”

  “No,” Lily stated loudly, cutting him off. Her heart gave a heavy lurch. “Do not say that.”

  “It is the truth.”

  A chill ran through her at his matter-of-fact tone. Uncertainty threatened to take hold, but she forced it away. She could not risk anything less than her full conviction tonight.

  Before she could find the words to deny his statement, he added, “I understand Arthur Campbell offered for your hand.”

  Lily stiffened at the abrupt change in topic. “How do you know of that?”

  His brows furrowed. “Is it true?”

  “I refused him.”

  “Because you had been my mistress,” he stated bluntly.

  “Yes.” And because I love you. “It was an anticipated consequence. I accepted that I would never marry when I agreed to our arrangement.”

  “I should not have forced you to such a decision,” he said, his eyes lowering briefly before meeting hers again. “I should have taken you straight home that night.” There was more than regret in his voice as he added, “I never should have used you the way I did.”

  He seemed intent upon regret. She had to find a way to alter the direction of his focus.

  Frustration made her reckless. Tilting her chin at a mutinous angle, she held his gaze as she replied, “Do you forget? I offered myself to you. I practically begged you to take me.”

  He stood in silence as she spoke, all hard angles and stonelike strength. Rigid with control.

  She slowly walked toward him. “I agreed to our affair willingly. Eagerly. I thought you
did as well. Do not dare twist what happened between us into something ugly, Avenell. I will not allow it.” Coming to a stop, she left enough space between them that she would be unable to reach for him if tempted. “I am worth more than that.”

  “Infinitely more.” His voice was barely more than a raw whisper. His eyes were shadowed and deep beneath his furrowed brow.

  “And so are you,” Lily stated firmly, her heart beating fiercely against her ribs.

  “Lily.” He spoke her name with a deep resonance that went straight to her center. “You misunderstand.”

  “How do I misunderstand?” she asked, her voice intentionally challenging. “What am I not comprehending, Avenell?”

  There was a long pause. The muscles in his jaw tensed, and his hands fisted at his sides. Lily ached for the strain she read in every line of his frame.

  “I came looking for you tonight.”

  His words startled her. She wasn’t sure what she had expected him to say, but it certainly hadn’t been that. “You did? Why?”

  Emotion seethed beneath his unyielding manner. Passion, fear, life, and love existed there. Everything she had ever wanted was within him—still out of reach.

  “Tell me, Avenell. Trust me.”

  He shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face. “If you come with me, I will show you.”

  He held his hand out to her, and she did not hesitate. She only wished she had removed her gloves so she could feel his bare skin against hers.

  He led her from the library and across the hall in long strides. It took a few seconds before her feet caught up with her heart, and she quickened her steps to match his frightfully determined pace.

  Without a word, they ascended the stairs side by side. Lily flicked a glance at his profile and her belly fluttered with a wonderful sort of anticipation when she noted how tensely his jaw was clenched and how his gaze was fiercely trained forward. His sudden impatience roused the desire that never stayed below a simmer for long when he was near.

  They continued down the hall and into his bedroom, where a low-banked fire warmed the room and cast dancing shadows against the walls.