The Earl’s Dangerous Passion (Historical Regency Romance)

by Ella Edon

  “I don’t want to!” Amy hissed back, stepping away from her stepmother. “I’ve told you, I don’t want to be here.”

  “Well, you’ve got no choice,” Hartley growled. He grabbed her arm and turned her towards the door. “Your current suitor is here now.”

  Current suitor? Amy hadn’t realized there was another one. She saw a very tall, very muscular man in the doorway talking to the hostess, who was giggling with a red face as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. The man was lapping it up. Amy could see why the hostess, a happily married woman in middle age, was simpering over him; jet-black curls that brushed against his collar, a clean-shaven, handsome face and a smile that seemed to suggest something nefarious.

  But he did nothing to make Amy simper. If anything, her heart sank. It was William Parry, the Earl of Leicester. She had encountered him previously, and she did not like him at all. He was mean, vindictive, and overpowering, much like Hartley.

  And he expected her to be courted by Leicester? Amy began to panic and attempted to pull away from her father.

  “Father, no!” she hissed. “I will not marry him. I won’t!”

  Hartley growled and tugged her back, his face inches from hers.

  “Stop whining, Amy!” He practically spat in her face. “You’ve got Leicester’s name on your cards already, and you need to show yourself, let him know that you’re here. You’re not here to hide.”

  “I like hiding,” Amy shot back. “I hate balls, and I hate dancing. And I hate that man.”

  She nodded at Leicester, who had been joined by three young women Amy’s age. From Leicester’s expression, he was enjoying himself. The man did like his women. Amy had heard a lot of things about him, and none of them made her feel comfortable. Hartley snorted, his fingers digging into her arm.

  “Don’t be pathetic. You need to find a husband, sooner rather than later, and you won’t be able to find one where you are now.”

  “Do you want to be a spinster all your life?” Beatrice demanded.

  Amy nodded.

  “With you two forcing my matches, absolutely.”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it.” Hartley snapped. He shook Amy and hustled her closer to the crowd. “Leicester’s coming this way. Be on your best behavior. He’s interested in your hand, and I want you to make a good impression.”

  “I don’t want to marry him! He’s a cad!”

  “I don’t care what you want. You will marry who I say, and you’ve put it off long enough. Now get out there.”

  Hartley gave her a hard shove, sending Amy stumbling into the crowd of people nearby. The various guests gasped and scattered as Amy started to fall. This was embarrassing. Amy wanted to hit the floor and sink into it. Now everyone was looking at her.

  But someone caught her before she fell to her knees, lifting her to her feet. Amy didn’t need to guess who was holding her. With his strong arms and that familiar scent, Amy knew exactly who her savior was. It was all she could do not to lean into him and allow his arms to go around her.

  She looked up to see Derby staring down at her. His expression was like granite, but there was a slight twinkle in his eye, one that she had missed.

  “Still hiding from the masses, I see?” he drawled.

  Amy winced. She didn’t like his tone, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away, even with everyone staring at them. Then Amy heard Hartley storming towards them, snarling at Derby.

  “Unhand my daughter, Derby,” he hissed.

  But Derby didn’t let go. He turned to Hartley, not loosening his hold on Amy.

  “Actually, Lord Hartley,” he said mildly, “I was looking for Miss Hartley to ask her for a dance. It’s been a while since we graced the dancefloor together, and she appears to be available right now.”

  “What? No!” Hartley’s eyes widened. “I…”

  “Is there something wrong with asking your daughter to dance, Lord Hartley?” Derby’s eyes narrowed. “Would you like to discuss that with me?”

  Amy shivered. Hartley’s face went white. He wouldn’t want to cause a scene in front of everyone. Neither would Beatrice, her stepmother hovering a little way behind her husband with a face of thunder. She scowled at Amy, and Amy knew she should obey and step back from Derby. But refusing a dance would have been considered rude in Society, and while Amy wanted to get away from the Earl, she didn’t want to refuse him anything.

  Hartley closed his mouth and gritted his teeth. He nodded curtly at Derby before glaring at Amy.

  “Just hurry back, Amy,” he snapped. “You’ve got an important arrangement.”

  Amy gulped and nodded. Hartley gave Derby one last scowl and then stormed away, Beatrice following him. Amy turned to Derby and smiled.

  “Thank you.”

  Derby grunted, leading her towards the dancefloor.

  “Don’t thank me.”

  * * *

  They joined the other dancers as a waltz started up. Amy froze. She hated the waltz. She didn’t like having close contact with someone else when she was dancing. And with Derby? Her heartbeat was picking up as she realized he would be holding her close to him, cradling her in his arms as they danced. It was something she had dreamed of, but now with Derby’s coolness towards her, Amy wasn’t sure she wanted that dream to come true.

  They began to dance, Derby, guiding Amy around the floor. He didn’t say anything as Amy kept standing on his toes, stumbling in her effort to keep up. He remained expressionless as they danced, and Amy wished he would give her a smile, anything.

  This wasn’t the boy she had grown up with. This man was nothing like that boy at all. Amy wanted that boy back. She cleared her throat.

  “I take it you haven’t found anything more with regards to those letters.” She stared at the sparkling jewel in his cravat. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t.”

  Derby’s hand tightened around hers. Even through her gloves, his hand was very warm.

  “I haven’t given up. My contacts are still looking, but these things take time, Miss Hartley. It’s going to be a while before we can get anything significant.”

  That put Amy’s spirits up. He hadn’t given up on her. Somehow, that made her feel better. She gulped.

  “I hope you can find out who’s writing to me. I hate looking over my shoulder and not knowing who it is.”

  “I understand. And I’ll find out for you.”

  “Really?”

  Derby grunted. He wasn’t looking at her as they danced.

  “I gave you my word, and I’m not going back on it now.”

  Amy frowned at him. She didn’t like the tension in his jaw, the pain in his eyes. She wanted to reach up and wipe them away.

  “Are you well, Lord Derby?” she asked. “You seem...tense.”

  “I’m fine.”

  That was far too quick an answer. Amy shook her head.

  “You’re not. It’s like you don’t want to be in my presence. I’m not contagious.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “Then why are you dancing like you wish you could run away from me now?”

  Derby’s let out a heavy sigh as he glanced across the room.

  “Because your father is glaring at us, and I overstepped the boundaries again.”

  “By asking me to dance?” Then Amy realized what he had said. “And what do you mean by again?”

  “Forget I said anything, Miss Hartley.”

  He was going to dismiss her. Not this time. Amy didn’t care where they were; she was going to get her answers.

  “Then what?” she demanded. “Is it something to do with Father’s visit to you on that night? He told me he had told you to back off, but he wouldn’t tell me how. You can’t be scared of him, can you?”

  Derby looked down at her, and Amy caught her breath at the pained look in his eyes. He stopped abruptly, still holding onto Amy even as the other dancers moved around them.

  “I’m not scared of your father.” Derby swallowed. “But I don’t w
ant to jeopardize you and your current beau.”

  Realization dawned. That was what Hartley had been doing. Planting seeds of something that didn’t exist in Derby’s head. Amy shook her head.

  “I don’t have a current beau.”

  “That’s not what your father said. And I won’t come between you and your future husband.” Derby dropped his hands and stepped back, his eyes falling to the floor. “You don’t deserve to have your reputation questioned.”

  Then he bowed abruptly, merely a bob of his head, and then Derby was striding away through the throng of people. Several of the guests gasped as he went past, and then they were staring at Amy. Amy felt as though she wanted to fade away and disappear. This was more embarrassing than being paraded in front of everyone like she was a piece of meat.

  That hurt. It hurt immensely. The old Lord Derby wouldn’t have done that to her. He would have been more respectful of her. Amy wanted to cry, her chest constricting. But she wouldn’t. Now was not the time.

  She watched as Derby approached the open doors onto the terrace and disappeared into the gardens. Several people watched him go. They were going to notice if Amy followed him out immediately after. But Amy wasn’t about to walk away.

  So, as her father and stepmother approached her across the now empty dancefloor, Amy ducked past the orchestra and through a servant’s door. Derby was not walking away from her until he knew the truth. She just needed to get the courage up to do it.

  Chapter Nine

  Derby found a quiet spot under a tree and sagged onto the bench situated underneath. His legs were shaking, and his hands were cold. His heart was beating fast enough to make him feel light-headed. That had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have asked Amy to dance. The sensible thing to do was to keep away from her.

  But temptation had been too great, and Derby couldn’t stand back and allow Amy to be abused. He had seen in previous social events over the last few weeks how Hartley kept physically pushing his daughter towards the Earl of Leicester, who had to be her future husband. And each time Derby could see Amy fighting back.

  She looked like she hadn’t eaten properly lately. She was thinner, her face gaunt and pale, and there were dark shadows under her eyes. Even the makeup couldn’t hide that. Amy looked miserable, and that pained Derby. He wanted to do something to make her feel better, make her laugh. He wanted that twinkle to come back into her eyes.

  But he couldn’t. Hartley had told him clearly what was going on. Leicester was making Amy his wife, and Derby was not to get involved in any way whatsoever. Derby objected to the way he was spoken to by a lower noble, but he didn’t want Amy in further trouble. It wasn’t below Viscount Hartley to take his frustrations out on his daughter.

  This was a mess. He should never have come out here. Derby cursed his sister, who had urged him to come out this evening and be a social person for once. He had practically locked himself in his study, refusing to see anyone, but Derby couldn’t disappoint his sister.

  As soon as he got his senses back, Derby would send for his coach. He was going home. This had not been a good idea.

  A rustling of leaves and soft footsteps sounded off to his right. Derby looked up and saw Amy coming along the path, stepping into the moonlight. Lust tightened in his gut, and Derby found himself frozen in place. He then remembered his manners and shot to his feet.

  “You shouldn’t be out here, Miss Hartley,” he croaked.

  Amy snorted.

  “Always so formal with me, aren’t you? I’ve always been ‘Miss Hartley’ ever since I became of age. I remember a time when you were merely Daniel, and I was just Amy.”

  Derby could feel his face getting warm. He remembered those times very clearly. He looked away.

  “We were children,” he said gruffly. “That was a long time ago. And it’s hardly a suitable conversation right now.”

  He needed to go back inside before someone saw them. If Amy was out here without a chaperone, tongues were going to wag. But Amy was still walking towards him, lifting her chin to stare at him with piercing eyes. Derby couldn’t bring himself to walk away. Amy stopped close to him, her skirts brushing against his legs.

  “I want to know what’s going on with you, Derby,” she said coolly. “You’ve been very cold towards me lately, and that’s not like you at all.”

  “I don’t have to explain myself.”

  “I think you do.” Amy folded her arms. That hitched her breasts up, and Derby had to stop himself from staring. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what you meant back there. Coming between me and my current beau? I’ve never had a beau. Father foists men towards me in the hope that there will be a marriage, but I send them away.”

  “That’s not what your father said to me.”

  “So, you said.” Amy narrowed her eyes. “What did he say? And don’t lie to me.”

  Derby knew this should stop. They were alone, and Amy was too close. He clenched his hands at his side, wishing he could touch her, feel her soft skin under his fingers.

  “He told me that you were engaged.” Derby glared at her. “Something you neglected to tell me.”

  Amy’s eyes widened.

  “I neglected to tell you? That’s because it isn’t true! I’ve never been engaged. Father just wants to make sure that I’m not caught in association with someone not of his choosing. He wanted you to back off.” She snorted and shook her head as she scowled. “And it appears to have worked. You actually believed his lies.”

  She was so firm about it. Convincing. Derby could almost believe that was the case. But he still wavered.

  “How am I supposed to believe you?”

  Amy looked hurt, but she didn’t back down.

  “You’ve always believed me before,” she whispered. “Why not now?”

  Derby wavered. He didn’t know. But Hartley had been very convincing, even smug about it. Derby had wanted to disbelieve it, but he didn’t want to put Amy in further trouble. Then, the more he thought about it, the more he believed that Amy was engaged. She was beautiful and graceful; even with her terrible dancing; she would be perfect.

  But to the Earl of Leicester? Hartley had to be mad to even consider that man.

  “The Earl of Leicester is the worst possible choice for a husband,” he murmured.

  Amy sighed.

  “I know that, but Father believes that this could be a very good match. He’s attempting to push us together. I don’t wish to be around the man, and I will never marry him.”

  “Lord Hartley thinks otherwise.”

  “He can think all he wants. I will never become the Countess of Leicester.” Amy looked up at him with a clear expression, unblinking. This was the most confident Derby had ever seen her. “When I marry — if I marry — it will be to the man I choose.”

  For a moment, Derby forgot how to breathe. She sounded so sure of herself. So determined. The lust in his belly shifted further downwards, and his trousers were beginning to feel tighter than before. He coughed and shifted his feet.

  “You do realize women don’t get the choice of a husband around here,” he croaked. “The men take charge of the match, not the intended bride.”

  “Not this time. It will be on my terms or not at all. Father is just taking a while to realize that.”

  “He’ll beat you down.”

  Amy smiled and shook her head.

  “Not anymore. I won’t let him.”

  She reached up and brushed her fingers across his cheek. Her fingertips were cool against his skin, causing Derby to jump. Derby could feel his control slipping. Amy had no idea what she was doing to him. Keeping his distance should have been the wisest choice. He should have gone back inside. But God couldn’t have got him to move right now. Not if it meant Amy could touch him like this.

  “Please don’t give up on me, Derby,” Amy whispered. “I need you.”

  Derby needed her. He needed to put his hands on her, feel her sweet body against his. Putting his hands behind his
back, he took a deep breath.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  The smile Amy gave him almost undid him. Then she stepped closer, reaching up on tiptoe, and her lips brushed his jaw. Derby closed his eyes and bit back a groan. His nails were digging into his palms, but he wouldn’t reach out and pull her close. Blood was pounding around in his head, causing him to sway.

  Then Amy’s touch was gone, and he could feel her moving away. Derby opened his eyes and saw Amy walking back towards the party. She momentarily paused and looked over her shoulder at him. She gave him a sweet smile and then carried on walking.