In the Arms of an Earl (18 page)

No word at all.

Hot tears slid down her cold face. She’d lost her appetite a week before, and not even music brought her any joy. She’d spent hours on her mother’s window seat, staring at the road leading to the village. Her father had noticed but kept his thoughts and concerns to himself. Mamma said not a word, but a permanent frown had landed between her eyebrows, and once she’d kicked a chair leg in passing.

I should have known better
. Jane threw off the quilts to cool down and pulled them back up again when the frosty air chilled her. A gentleman like Frederick was not meant for a girl like her. After all, what did she possibly have to offer a husband, let alone the brother of an earl? She possessed few accomplishments and had never come out in society. She’d scorned the debutantes in Weston, though secretly she’d wished to be just like them, giggling and flitting around in their white gowns, their mothers’ best diamond brooches pinned to their hopeful bosoms.

If only she’d listened to her mother and not aspired to believing she could be Frederick’s bride. Mr. Smathers would do for a girl like her. She would have the running of a small household to keep her occupied and would probably get used to his guffawing laugh over time.

“Oh, Frederick.”

The sound came more from her heart than her lips. She covered her face with her pillow so her sobs would not disturb her parents.

Lucinda had been right about him from the first. He would never marry. His heart had been broken and would never mend. An elegant, beautiful lady with plenty of accomplishments had destroyed him for other women. Other women who could love him and give their whole hearts to him.

Better to forget him. Forget him, so she could return to a normal life.

A life without him.

She sat up in bed a moment later, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. A faint thudding noise outside broke the silence, reaching her through the closed windows. She listened intently for a few seconds, hardly daring to breathe in case she lost the sound. It grew louder, and she realized it was horse hooves thrumming across the road and heading toward the house.

The tiny hairs on her arms lifted. She strained against invisible bands tightening around her arms and legs. She wanted to move but was terrified to do so, in case…

She sprang from the bed and ran out of her chamber, forgetting her wrapper and slippers. Her father’s voice called out sleepily, but she ignored him, pounding down the stairs the way she had as a child on Christmas morning. She struggled frantically with the lock on the front door, even as the footsteps on the other side crunched on the gravel toward her.

With a frustrated groan, she flung the heavy door open, ran three steps, and collided into him.

“Frederick!”

The sob in her voice stifled against his coat. He stroked her hair and face, brushing the tears from her cheek as he laughed. His unshaven jaw rasped against her skin when he kissed her.

“Forgive me for not coming sooner, my dearest,” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear.

She was oblivious to the cold air piercing through her night rail until her teeth chattered. She clutched his shoulders through his heavy coat, sliding them up to frame his cold face. How long had he ridden in the night to reach her?

She rose on tiptoe as he opened his coat and wrapped it around her. It was utter heaven to feel the strength of his arms. To breathe in the scent of his horse on his clothes. To feel him strong and alive and
here
…

“My brother is dead,” he said.

His voice dragged her out of her dreams.

“I am so sorry.” She struggled to suppress her happiness and convey her sympathy. His eyes appeared shadowed and weary, and he seemed to sag a little.

“I must tell you something, before we go inside.” His arms tightened around her. “My brother has no children, as you well know. I’ve been in London longer than I wanted, because we were awaiting Edwin’s reply. He sent word a few days ago he would not leave India. He has disinherited himself.”

His words didn’t register with her. “Then, who is the new earl?”

“You have betrothed yourself to the sixth Earl of Falconbury, Jane Brooke.” His mouth quirked at the corners. “That is, if you still wish to marry me.”

She knew she wouldn’t be able to release her hold on him if she wanted to. She pressed her lips to his without a word.

His reaction was slow at first until he crushed her in his arms. Her parted lips invited him, and he kissed her passionately, igniting a bright surge of desire that flew through her, leaving her weak and trembling.

She had locked her fingers so tightly in his windblown hair she couldn’t feel them anymore. He lifted her slightly off the ground, and his coat fell away from her, exposing her to the cold.

But she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered but the man who held her close. They embraced until her father’s voice broke the stillness.

“Welcome back, Colonel Blakeney.” Relief echoed in her father’s voice. “Come inside, both of you. Jane, you look frozen through.”

They followed him inside to the drawing room, where he’d thoughtfully lit the fire. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until she stood in the center of the room, about to burst with happiness.

“Please forgive my absence and lack of word,” Frederick said to Mr. Brooke, while Jane was satisfied to clutch his hand. “I sent several letters, but they were not delivered, as I discovered a few days ago. When I realized Miss Brooke”—he grinned—“Jane would not hear from me, I had to come in person.”

His eyes filled with tenderness, and Jane smiled back through her tears.

“She kept faith you would come,” Mr. Brooke said, taking her hand and gently leading her away. “Jane, dear, let the colonel rest by the fire. Go put on your wrapper, and see about some tea. I doubt anyone will want to sleep tonight.”

Her mother’s footsteps clambered down the stairs, and Jane met her in the hall.

“What has happened?”

“Colonel Blakeney’s come, Mamma. He was detained in London, and his letters never reached me.”

“Pah! More like, he wanted to make sure you hadn’t gone and accepted another proposal! Your sisters have quite the connections these days, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t manage a duke or marquess!”

“Mamma,” Jane gasped, glancing toward the drawing room, where Frederick stood speaking to her father. He looked deep in conversation, but she saw the wry smile flicker across his face. She snatched her father’s coat from the back of his study door and fled to the kitchen for the tea, grateful her father would counteract any damaging comments her mother might utter.

When she returned with a cart of tea things, her mother was sitting on the sofa, nightcap askew, her eyes as wide as saucers.

“Jane, he’s gone and become an earl! This is too much!” She fanned herself with a flimsy handkerchief. “Oh, Mr. Brooke, this is too much!”

Jane poured out the tea, ignoring her mother’s histrionics. Frederick also appeared at ease. She handed him a cup, and he took it with a smile.

“I was just telling your parents, my dear, I have accepted the title in Edwin’s stead.” He bowed to her mother. “So, Mrs. Brooke, your daughter will not have to struggle with a one-handed soldier scraping out a living on a farm.”

Missing his sarcasm, her mother simply clung to the arms of her chair as if she would fall out of it at any moment.

“A lady of the court! My own little Jane, a fine lady! Think of it!” She sprang up. “You shall have a house in town and splendid clothes and jewels. Thank goodness, you’ve outgrown your insipid foolishness with burying yourself in books. Oh, Colonel Blakeney, how can we ever thank you?”

Jane wondered if it were possible to die of embarrassment and could only stare at her mother, mentally silencing her while she half-expected Frederick to flee the house without a backward glance.

“On the contrary, madam. It is I who thank both of you, for granting me the greatest honor and chance of happiness I have ever known.” His words were for them, but his eyes were on her. “I am the luckiest man alive to have such a beautiful, intelligent, and caring woman love me. I will endeavor to keep Jane safe and happy for the rest of her days.”

Speechless, she held his hand in both of hers, her vision blurred with tears.

“You are sure to have a fine entry in your diary tomorrow, Jane,” Mr. Brooke said, stretching his legs out by the fire. “It is very late. Please take Colonel Blakeney…I mean, his lordship…to the guest chamber. Your mamma and I will sit up for the rest of the night discussing the grand spectacle of your wedding.”

“Good night, Mamma. Thank you, Papa,” Jane said.

Frederick bowed and tucked Jane’s arm around his.

They walked upstairs in silence, the darkness cloaking them in shadow. Jane was aware of the creak of each step, every sound; the rustle of her night rail brushing her legs as his coat flapped against his. With every step came the realization she was walking to a bedchamber with him. She stumbled, but his hand gripped hers.

As if he knew what she was thinking, he stopped on the landing.

“I can find it from here,” he said.

Her mother’s excited voice echoed throughout the house. “The possibilities, Mr. Brooke! I knew she was not born as beautiful as Amelia or as clever as Rosalind, but look—she’s made a finer match than either of them! Oh, how I knew she would!”

“I am so sorry,” she said resignedly, but he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“I beg you, my dearest, to please stop apologizing. Otherwise you will be doing so for the remainder of my visit.”

She laughed, but the sound was restrained in deference to the darkness closing in. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she murmured, suddenly too shy to meet his gaze.

“No kiss good night?”

His voice was low and soft, and she moved into his arms before she could think. She even forgot to blush when he lifted her chin.

His lips brushed hers, and when she gasped, he kissed her again, a soft groan rumbling from deep within his chest. She felt dizzy, as if she were whirling around on the carousel in Brighton with her sisters. The carousel had left her disoriented.

Frederick’s kisses made her forget everything.

His mouth left hers, and he kissed her cheek, then the side of her neck, slipping his hand beneath her arm to raise her to her tiptoes. She sagged against him, his ruined arm supporting her. She lifted her hands to explore his silky hair, twirling it in curls around her fingers while his lips burned a path from her throat to her face and to her mouth again.

Too soon, he broke away. “It’s a struggle to be near you and not kiss you.” He grinned, and she attempted to smile, though it was difficult to breathe and concentrate at the same time. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. It was hard—damnably hard—to remain in London, whilst you were here, with no word from me, no idea what had happened.”

She clutched his waistcoat, crushing the fine embroidery.

“I thought…” Her voice broke with the memory of her suffering through the last few weeks. “I thought you’d changed your mind. You’d made a mistake…”

“No, no mistake.” He shook his head slowly, and his breath came faster. He swallowed hard. “No mistake at all, my love.” He kissed her again. “I take it you received my note?”

“Yes. I wrote you back straightaway. Did you not receive my letter?”

“You wrote me back?”

“The moment I read your note.”

“I did not receive it but will make a guess as to your answer.”

She leaned into his side, her hand brushing his thigh as she did so. His muscles twitched, and she broke away, but he took her in his arms, trapping her there.

“Yes.” Her voice choked, but it didn’t matter, because a moment later, his mouth was fastened to hers, drawing every breath from her body until she trembled in his arms. “I don’t want to say good night. I’m afraid you’ll be gone in the morning.”

“You will not have that fear again, I assure you.”

“I love you, Frederick,” she whispered, aching for his kiss. He clasped her to him again, with a sense of finality.

“Ah, Jane,” he murmured, his breathing rough, “I hope to marry you quickly. Before you change your mind.”

“I will never change my mind.” She reluctantly released him, unaware until now how weak and languorous she felt.

“Go to sleep, my darling.” He kissed her forehead, almost reverently. “In the morning, we shall have a long walk together and find a quiet spot beneath a tree, where I shall kiss you till supper.”

A shudder of excitement pulsed through her. “Good night, Frederick.”

He squeezed her hand. “Good night, my Jane.” He walked to his chamber and paused at the door. “In the heat of the moment, I forgot to say it.”

“Say what?”

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Seventeen

“There is something you must know, before we discuss the wedding breakfast and your wedding clothes.” Frederick sat beside her on the blanket they’d brought for their impromptu picnic the next day.

Jane reached into the basket and handed him an apple. The relief she’d felt when she awoke and heard his cheerful voice discussing his plans with her father had been overwhelming. She’d dressed so hastily she hadn’t had time to pin up her hair, so it hung down her back with only a ribbon tied around her head. She was rather glad she had, as Frederick kept twirling long strands of it around his fingers.