Her Errant Earl (12 page)

A new resolve overcame him. He’d lived his entire life by
taking the easiest road possible, eschewing responsibility and unwanted
attachments. He’d never done anything of consequence. The time had come for him
to be a man. He had to win back his wife. Without her, his life was as an empty
husk.

His mind made up, he strode past his startled father.

“Where the devil are you going?” the duke called after him,
clearly consternated.

“To get my wife,” he returned over his shoulder, not
bothering to glance back over his shoulder. The past was where it belonged, and
the only future he wanted had Victoria in it. He had to make her see reason.
There was no other course.

“Oh dear.”

Victoria glanced up from the book she’d been
unenthusiastically reading in Maggie’s cheery London drawing room. Her friend
had just burst into the room, wringing her hands, her countenance quite vexed.
She snapped the volume in her lap closed, not bothering to mark the page. As
distractions went, it had served to be an exceedingly poor one.

She frowned as her friend began pacing across the polished
floor as if she’d just had word of a death in the family. “What is it, Maggie?”

“Forgive me, my dearest friend.” Maggie pressed a hand to
her mouth, looking ill. “I don’t know how this has happened.”

Victoria stood at once, a growing knot of worry in her
stomach. “Whatever can be the matter? Surely you’ve done nothing that requires
my forgiveness.”

“I have not,” Maggie hastened to assure her, stopping in her
frantic motions. “But someone has.”

“I can take no more suspense, Maggie.” She braced herself
for the news. “What can it be?”

“It is him,” her friend moaned. She’d always tended toward
melodrama, even when they’d been girls coming of age in New York. Most things
never changed, Victoria thought wryly.

“‘Him’ who? I’m afraid I can’t think of one person who would
cause you such distress.” She was still genuinely puzzled.

“Pembroke,” Maggie finally revealed, throwing the back of
her hand to her forehead. Even her carefully wrought coiffure was coming undone
in her fervor. “I’m afraid he’s come here and he’s demanding to see you.”

He’d come for her after all. Welled-up emotion gave a sudden
pang in her chest. For the past three days, she’d vacillated between anger and
longing for him. She’d halfheartedly waited for him to turn up with his
charming grin and melting kisses. She’d even had a dream her first night in
London that he’d come for her and begged her forgiveness. It had been so real
that she’d woken and looked for him in bed beside her. But reality had intruded
with the glaring light of dawn, and she’d been alone in a strange bed, still
betrayed and broken.

Now he had come, just when she’d abandoned the last shred of
hope she still clung to that their love could be darned after all. She pressed
a hand to her recklessly galloping heart. What to do?

“Has the butler told him I’m not at home?” she asked, trying
to sort through the hodgepodge of her confused feelings. She didn’t think she
could see him now without crumbling. He had hurt her so very deeply.

“He has,” her friend confirmed, “and the earl refuses to
leave. He has said he will remain until you return. I’m sure I’ve never heard
of anything so forward. Our poor butler hasn’t an inkling what to do. If he
were anyone other than an earl, we’d have him tossed out on his ear.”

Of course Pembroke would not bow to social custom. She would
have smiled had she not been overwhelmingly devastated by him. She had loved
him, she reminded herself, and allowed him to deceive her and misuse her again
and again. She couldn’t, for her own sanity and well-being, allow him to charm
his way back into her good graces once more.

“What am I to do, Victoria?”

Before she could answer, the drawing room door burst open.
Maggie’s harried-looking butler attempted to announce Pembroke while the earl
simply stalked into the room as if he belonged there. His gaze ensnared hers
and her traitorous body went weak. She had missed him, the cad.

“Ah, I suspected you were hiding from me, my dear,” he said,
his voice as smooth as fresh butter.

Poor Maggie appeared to be having apoplexy. Her face had
grown red in her agitation. “My lord, you cannot simply barge about in my
home.”

He stopped and bowed, ever the sophisticated gentleman.
“Pray accept my apologies, my lady. It is simply that I am overcome with love
of my wife and I can’t bear to spend another second without her. I’m sure you
understand.”

Victoria frowned at more of his silver-tongued niceties. He
didn’t love her. How could he, and treat her as he had? She was frozen as he
strode to her, his eyes fastened to her as if memorizing the mere sight of her.
But she knew it was all an act. It had to be.

Maggie was sputtering. “Your wife is seeking refuge from
you.”

“I am well aware of that.” He caught Victoria’s hands in his
and raised them to his lips for a fervent kiss. “And I don’t blame her one
whit.”

“You don’t?” Victoria asked, her brow furrowed.

“You don’t?” Maggie echoed.

“Not at all,” Pembroke said, still holding her hands in a
tight grasp, still training his intense eyes only upon her. “I’ve been a
complete scoundrel to her. I don’t deserve her as my wife. I’ve abandoned her,
lied to her and hurt her, and for that I shall never forgive myself.” He
paused. “But I will also never forgive myself if I let her go, for you see, she
is the very best part of my life.”

Victoria was barely aware of Maggie’s sigh. Apparently, her
friend had already been won over. But she was determined to be made of sterner
stuff. “You certainly didn’t act as if I was,” she pointed out.

“Lady Sandhurst,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers.
“Would you mind terribly giving my wife and me some privacy?”

“Oh my.” Maggie sounded breathless. Victoria shot a glance
her friend’s way to find that she was watching the scene unfold, pie-eyed. “I
suppose so, my lord. That is, if it is acceptable to Victoria.”

“I will be fine,” she assured Maggie, even though she wasn’t
sure of the veracity of her own words. In truth, she was incredibly nervous as
she watched her friend take her leave of the drawing room. She didn’t know what
to expect of Pembroke, wasn’t certain if she could withstand more of his powerful
brand of seduction. She was too afraid to hope.

When they were alone, the drawing room door safely closed on
curious ears, Pembroke pulled her into his strong body for an embrace. She held
herself stiffly, her arms at her sides, as he held her tightly to him, burying
his face in her hair.

“By God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured. “I know you don’t
owe me anything at all, but please, Victoria, listen to what I have to say.”

“I don’t know if I can, Pembroke.” As admissions went, it
was completely honest, bare of any trappings. She had never been good at
girding herself against him.

“I’m begging you, my love.” He pressed a kiss to the top of
her head, holding her so tightly that it was almost painful. “Please.”

She loved the way he held her. Not returning his embrace was
killing her. She had to force herself to recall the gravity of what he’d done.
He was a man she could not trust, and had shown that to her again and again.

She summoned her inner strength and pulled back to look at
him, searching his gaze. “I’m sure I shouldn’t listen to anything you have to
say.”

“You are entitled to your good opinion, but before you
refuse me, think upon this.” His beautiful face was taut with an emotion she
couldn’t define. “What have I to gain in seeking you out now? You’ve already
given me my freedom. Should a divorce occur, my family will keep your dowry.
I’m young enough to remarry and try for an heir to please my father. I don’t
need you, Victoria.”

His proclamation startled her. It hadn’t been what she
expected to hear, and she had to confess, if only to herself, that what he was
saying possessed a ring of truth. If they were to divorce, or perhaps even
annul their union, he would be free to remarry. The money his family had needed
was already theirs. He didn’t need her at all, it seemed.

“I don’t need you,” he said again, tipping up her chin in
that way that had become so familiar and beloved to her. “Except that without
you, my life has no meaning. I was an aimless blackleg, with no thought for the
future or my responsibilities, no care for anyone, including myself. And then I
came to you in the country. You were beautiful and strong. You had transformed
Carrington House, won over the servants, and I couldn’t get enough of you. I
thought I’d married a little American mouse, but I discovered I’d married a
striking, intelligent, caring force of a woman who somehow saw the best in my
blighted soul when everyone else believed it had no redeemable qualities.”

His words left her stricken, partially because she was
afraid to believe them, and partially because she knew no one could put on such
a skilled performance. There remained many questions, however, that needed
asking. “Why would you lie to me? Why not tell me the truth?”

“I was in too deep,” he said without hesitation, his gaze
never wavering. “By the time I realized how much I cared for you, I was too
afraid to admit to you that I wasn’t the good husband seeking redemption that
you thought me to be. I didn’t want you to hate me or to leave me. In truth, I
thought you’d never be the wiser. Little did I realize that my father would so
heartlessly reveal all to you. If I could go back and erase the damage, tell
you when I ought to have, know that I would.”

It was what she had needed to hear, wanted to hear even. But
the inundation of his revelations was too great. She was besieged, her mind
trying to sort through the particulars of what he’d told her, her heart wanting
to throw herself immediately into his arms.

“I can’t make a decision now,” she said, trying desperately
to hold on to her fleeing sense of self-preservation. “I need time, Pembroke,
time to think about all you’ve said.”

He released a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.
She was shocked that he was openly showing such depth of emotion. Pembroke had
always been filled with skillful lovemaking, sensual smiles and teasing to
deflect from the seriousness of the moment. He had never been this open, as if
his soul was bared before her. He was almost vulnerable.

“I understand, my dear.” He brought her hands to his lips
for one last, lingering kiss. “Thank you. I shall give you all the time you
need, but I’m afraid I cannot stay away from you. I’ll return every day until
you reach your determination.”

He would return every day? Good heavens. Her ability to
resist him would be sorely worn if she had to see him each day. Yet she had to
admit that some small, rebellious part of her wanted that to happen. She wanted
nothing more than for him to prove himself to her. She had resigned herself to
the fact that, regardless of what he had done, she would never love another man
as she loved her husband.

“Very well,” she agreed.

“Until tomorrow, my love.” He hesitated. “May I kiss you?”

She wanted nothing more than to feel his mouth upon hers,
but her common sense told her she ought not to tempt it. “No,” she denied at
last. “You may not.”

He nodded. “I understand, my dear.”

And with a bow, he took his leave.

* * * * *

“Are you going to forgive him?”

The question, asked by Maggie over breakfast, gave Victoria
a start. She glanced up from her plate and the food she’d been toying with but
not eating. Blood sausages had never held any appeal for her, but she had to
admit she hadn’t had much appetite over the last week.

“I’m not certain,” she murmured. “So much has come to pass
between us, and it’s all left me hopelessly confused, Maggie.”

Maggie sent her a commiserating smile. “I know, my dear. You
have to admit he’s been incredibly attentive. His actions seem to be those of a
man desperately in love. I confess I’m rather jealous. I wish Sandhurst looked
upon me the way Pembroke does you.” She sighed, staring out the window into the
busy London morning. “On second thought, I wish Sandhurst would look upon me at
all.”

Poor Maggie. Her husband the marquis was in love with Lady
Billingsley and made no secret of it, carrying on an affair with the woman
despite his relatively new marriage. Victoria had only seen him but once since
her arrival, and he had been polite but frigid. He did not seem to be a
particularly kind man, and Maggie certainly deserved a better husband.

Victoria forced her mind to her own husband. Maggie was
right. Pembroke had arrived each day for the last sennight, paying her careful,
polite visits in the presence of Maggie. He was charming as ever, incredibly
solicitous, handsome to a fault. She suspected he’d even won her friend over
with his undeniable magnetism. But though her resolve was weakening, she was
still left more conflicted than ever.

She missed the life they had begun together, that much was
irrefutable. Of course she missed sharing his bed, the incredible pleasure he
gave her. She longed for his teasing smiles, his odd but witty sense of humor.
Still, hidden inside her was a desperately frightened heart.

“I’m scared,” she admitted to her friend.

“That’s to be expected, dear heart,” Maggie said. “But
nothing in life is worthwhile if it’s easy.”

As her friend’s words sank into her mind, the butler
reappeared to announce Pembroke’s daily arrival. He awaited her in the drawing
room. She took a deep breath. “Will you come with me, Maggie?”

“Not today, I think,” her friend said with a sly smile.
“It’s time you met him on your own.”

Perhaps Maggie was right, she thought as she stood,
abandoning her barely eaten breakfast. Love was worthwhile, and she still loved
William, despite what he’d done. Was she ready to forgive him? She supposed she
would have to find out.

* * * * *

Victoria entered the drawing room to discover her husband
had not entirely come on his own. It appeared he had also brought a study’s
worth of documents with him. He had spread an assortment of papers all over a
Louis
Quinze
table.

“Darling,” he greeted her, looking up from the act of
shuffling through a sheaf of documents. He had an unusually severe air this
morning, no sign of his customary teasing grin. “You are looking beautiful as
ever this morning.”

She was instantly on edge. “Thank you, but what in heaven’s
name is all this?”