Only an Earl Will Do (14 page)

“Is there really a difference?” Her eyes sparked up at him with amusement, and he chuckled. “I have missed our friendship, Elizabeth.”

“And I you, even if I was terribly mad at you to begin with. But I know now it wasn’t your fault.” A sad smile tilted her lips. “Friends?”

He nodded, stepping closer than he ought. “Always, lass.”

Elizabeth met his gaze as the lightest touch of her fingers laced around the lapels of his jacket, seemingly flattening them further against his chest. Desire, hot and demanding, coursed through him. Damn, he wanted her, wanted to taste her sweet lips that had haunted him for all of the time he was away. And damn it, he wanted her to feel, to see without words, that he wanted a future with her that involved more than friendship. “Is my attire not to ye liking, my lady?”

The slight shrug of her shoulder brought his gaze to appreciate her delicate bones, the gown of lace and silk that shone silver in the moonlight. “I find your attire quite pleasing, but I’ve yet to see you in a kilt.”

He laughed, having not expected such a reply.

“Furthermore,” she continued, “your brogue has lessened since you’ve traveled abroad. You sound more English than ever these days.”

“Would it please ye if I slipped back into me Scottish accent, lass?”

“Very much so.”

Henry had to lean in to hear the whispered words, so softly were they spoken. She looked up at him, and the longing he read there eroded what little restraint he had left. Unable to deny himself, he took her lips in a searing kiss—a kiss that was neither sweet nor beckoning, but hot, demanding, and full of overwhelming need.

He groaned as her tongue thrust against his, her hands sliding up the lapels of his coat to clasp about his neck, pulling him hard against her, their closeness never close enough. Heat drove into his core, and once again they were back at the lake, young and carefree, devouring the other with hands, grinding bodies that created the most exquisite torture, a wet, conflagration of touch and taste that was never enough.

He lifted her to the terrace railing and caught her gasp with his mouth. Her feminine moan, music to his ears, had him harden. The lacy silk gown was cool beneath his fingers as he pushed her legs apart, wanting to be closer still. Elizabeth lifted her leg a little, wrapping her foot about his knee and urging him forward.

A warning voice at the back of his skull thrummed that what they were doing was wrong, scandalous, against the rules. From their past actions, he should know better, damn it; so should Elizabeth, but as her lips took his, demanded more, her hands clutched tight against his neck, he knew he’d lose the battle within himself to keep away, to step back and beg forgiveness for such an action.

Perhaps he really was a savage.

She broke the kiss, staring up at him with a look of awe that he knew his own mimicked. “We’re not supposed to be doing this. Friends do not go on in this manner,” she said, grinning a little.

The terrace doors rattled, and he stepped back, quickly helping her off the railing. Not that Henry would care if they were caught; he would marry her tomorrow if only she would say yes, but he would not force her hand. He wanted Elizabeth to come to him of her own free will, no coercion or due to society’s demands.

“You should return indoors,” he said, letting go of her hand. “I’ll go around the front and enter from the foyer doors. We don’t need another scandal dogging us.” Even in the dim light Henry could make out the rose-colored blush blooming on her cheeks. Hell, she was beautiful, a perfect English rose.

She nodded. “Yes, you’re right.” She looked as if she would leave, but instead she took a step toward him, reaching up to fix his cravat. Once more his body ached to touch her, to give himself one more memorable imprint on his mind of what she was like within his arms.

“Good night, Henry.”

He bowed, watching as she walked away. “Good night, my bonny lass.”

Elizabeth turned at the terrace doors and smiled before going indoors and taking his heart with her, just as she always had.

Chapter Thirteen

The following morning, Elizabeth halted at the library door when she caught the sound of raised voices inside. She hesitated, then, curiosity getting the better of her, stopped to listen. Their butler came from the breakfast room and bowed when he noticed her.

“Who’s in there with his grace?” she asked.

The old retainer cleared his throat. “The Earl of Muir, my lady.”

As more arguing ensued, Elizabeth ignored the butler’s disapproving eye and put her ear to the door. They were arguing—that was obvious—but over what, she couldn’t discern. With Henry being here, it obviously involved her and perhaps the despicable Lord Riddledale. Her hand hovered above the handle before thinking better of the sudden intrusion, and she knocked.

A curt, “Come in” was all the reply she received before entering.

“Elizabeth, leave.”

Elizabeth shut her mouth with a snap at her brother’s curt command. She ignored him and closed the door. “What is going on in here?” she asked, watching as her brother glowered at Lord Muir. “Your arguing can be heard in the foyer.” She raised an inquiring brow and waited for a reply.

“Nothing that concerns you,” Josh said, a muscle ticking at his temple. “Now if you don’t mind,” he said, gesturing toward the door.

Elizabeth shook her head and sat beside Henry, and his closeness, the sight of him again, left her breathless. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you in any case, as I wanted to know how you got on with Lord Riddledale yesterday. We never had a chance to speak last eve.”

Henry smiled at her a little, and her stomach flipped. Keeping her gaze locked on Henry, she asked, “I hope you enjoyed your evening, Lord Muir?”

He grinned wickedly, his eyes holding unknown pleasures still to be had. “Very much so, Lady Newland.”

“I’m glad.” She turned back to her brother. “Well, what did Lord Riddledale say, Josh?”

“It was exactly what I was asking,” Henry stated, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable in the chair.

“I’m under no obligation to discuss family business with you.” Josh jabbed a finger in Henry’s direction.

She sighed and clasped Henry’s arm lest he launch himself across her brother’s desk and have at him. “I entrusted Henry with my worries over Lord Riddledale, as you well know. We’ve spoken of this, Josh. There is no need for such rudeness. If you have anything to inform me of from your meeting with his lordship, then please tell us, and stop this nonsense.” She made a point at looking at them both. “I expect you to get along, no more bickering between us. We’re all adults, and we all know the truth of the situation.”

With a barely leashed growl, Josh picked up his quill and twisted it between his fingers. “Riddledale has agreed to hold off announcing your farcical betrothal until after his sister’s coming-out ball, even though I did point out to him you’ve not yet agreed to such an understanding.”

“Nor will you ever,” Henry quipped.

Her brother nodded. “Our conversation was amicable until I told him I couldn’t give my blessing to such a union if you were not agreeable to it.”

“How did he react?” Elizabeth wasn’t sure if she really cared. Riddledale could go hang.

Her brother thought over his reply for a moment before he said, “He was adamant there would be a wedding, or scandal would follow you about for the rest of your life. He would declare all that happened between you and Henry, and he would have the letter Father wrote Henry printed in
The Times
.”

Coldness, unlike any she’d ever experienced, slid down her spine. Should the ton find out about Samuel, should Henry find out, her son would be ruined, no matter that Lord Newland loved him from the moment he laid eyes on the boy. “We cannot allow that.”

“I did find out something that was of interest and could give us hope. I wanted to see the letter. If he’s so adamant in using it against us, I wanted to know if it really existed still. Riddledale pulled the missive from his desk and showed me, like he was showing off his best pointer hunter.”

“So you had this meeting at his London home?” Henry asked, meeting her gaze quickly.

“I did. In the library,” her brother said, looking confidently sure of himself.

Hope blossomed in Elizabeth’s chest. And if that is where Riddledale kept the missive at all times, their chance of success had doubled, no tripled. They already had the layout of Riddledale’s home thanks to Henry’s friend, and now they knew for certain the letter was in London. “This is good news.”

“The ball is to take place in two weeks. It’s to coincide with the ending of the season.” Josh ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “I will help keep Riddledale from his library during your search. The more we can do to thwart him, the better all our lives will be.”

“Thank you so very much, Josh.” She stood, walking around the desk to lean down and give her brother a kiss and quick hug. His cheeks turned crimson, and she smiled at his apparent embarrassment.

“Yes, well,” he said, patting her arm still clasped about his neck. “One does what is required of one in these situations.”

She pulled back a little, tears blurring her vision. “So it wasn’t because you love your sister?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “No, never that.” He laughed, the sound more carefree than she’d heard in an age.

Henry cleared his throat. “Thank you, your grace, for all ye’ve done. I’m relieved that our course is set and looking to be a success.”

Elizabeth caught Henry’s gaze as he stood to leave. She walked over to him, and he caught her hand, slipping a small note into her palm before bowing.

“Thank you for all your help, Lord Muir. We’re appreciative of it.”

He nodded. “Always a pleasure, lass.” His tone brooked no argument, and her heart stuttered. How easy it would be to fall for the handsome rogue, to wake up and fall asleep every day for the remainder of her life within his arms.

Her brother muttered under his breath something about killing an earl, and she stepped back, breaking the spell between them. “Well, if we’re to go on from here with normalcy, I had better take myself upstairs. Victoria wanted me to accompany her to an afternoon tea.”

“Do you wish for me to accompany you?” Josh asked. “I had planned on going to the club, but if you think Riddledale will attend, I’m more than willing to partake in tea and cake.”

Elizabeth shook her head at her brother’s offer. “There is no need. I’ve yet to see him at such an event. I’m certain Victoria and I will be well enough.”

Walking to the door she cast Henry a speculative gaze as the footman helped him into his jacket, the note burning a hole against her palm. He winked and left without saying another word, and her heart no longer felt her own. How she longed to live the life she’d always dreamed of with Henry, to love and be loved unconditionally.

But what of her child?

Henry still had no idea that she’d even borne a son, nevertheless that it was his. Samuel was already uncannily familiar in looks to Henry and it would not be long before he suspected that the child was never Lord Newland’s. Not to mention, Elizabeth couldn’t keep such a secret from the man she loved. It would be an impossible cruelty that would wear her down and triumph.

And then their marriage would be over before it even began, and Elizabeth had no doubt Henry would hate her. Hate her more than she already hated herself.

…

A short time later, Elizabeth, along with Victoria, sat in the family carriage, making their way to Belgravia to an afternoon tea. The carriage lurched sideways as it turned Hyde Park Corner, and Elizabeth laughed as both their reticules slid off the seats and landed with a thud on the floor.

“Do not trouble yourself, I shall get them,” Elizabeth said, bending down to pick up their purses and gasping as a loud boom rang out within the streets. The piercing sound of a woman’s scream sounded outside, and both she and Victoria looked out the window to see people scattering inside shops and away from the road.

“Was that a gunshot?” Elizabeth clutched at the seat as their driver picked up speed, turning through the streets and seemingly heading back toward the direction they’d come.

“I think you may be right.” Victoria frowned, her eyes wide with worry. “Why would anyone be firing a gun in central London?”

Elizabeth shrugged, having no idea herself why such a random, bizarre thing had happened. No sooner had their outing started, was it over? Their driver pulled up before the family townhouse and sent the tiger up to the front door to rap the knocker. Elizabeth helped Victoria alight from the carriage just as Josh rushed from the house, his face uncommonly pale.

“Are you well?” he asked, looking over them like his prized mares. “Your tiger informed me you were shot at.”

Elizabeth stole a quick glance at Victoria. “We heard a gunshot, but that was all. No one was shooting at us.” Elizabeth turned to the driver. “Tell my brother he’s misinformed.”

Josh pushed past them, striding to where their driver stood looking at the carriage. “Then why, pray, is there a bullet hole in the carriage, if no one was shooting at you?”

Her heart missed a beat as she looked at the perfectly round hole just above her window. Had the bullet only been a little lower and had she not leaned over to pick up the reticules… “We didn’t know…” She swallowed, feeling light-headed at the thought. “I’m sure it was an error. Why would anyone shoot at us? We haven’t done anything.”

“Why indeed.” Josh ushered them indoors, striding toward the parlor where it seemed he expected them to follow. They did, both of them sitting before the hearth while they watched their brother pour a large glass of whisky, drink it, and pour two more, handing them each one.

“Do not overthink this, Josh. I’m sure it was an accident. Some adolescent being silly with a new toy.”

Worry etched her brother’s face, making him seem older than his years. “I cannot help but overthink the situation.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “Surely for all of Riddledale’s pressure he would not threaten a woman’s life with such a cowardly act. I cannot believe this of a marquis. Someone must have fired off a gun, the bullet going astray, just as you said.”

“You suspect Riddledale?” Elizabeth hadn’t even thought of the gentleman, but then she remembered the burly man whom she’d caught watching her at Hatchards, and the idea didn’t seem so dismissive. “I do believe at times Riddledale has had me watched. When at the bookstore last, I caught a burly man in tradesman attire watching me. When I noted his interest, he fled.”

Josh looked almost wild, and she cringed at having forgotten to tell him.

“Why did you not inform me of this? Damn it, Elizabeth, is there anything else that I do not know?”

She shook her head. “No, nothing, and I’ve not seen him again, and so… I should’ve told you, I’m sorry.” Elizabeth bit her lip, casting a look at Victoria who didn’t look well at all. “You don’t believe because we’re fighting him on his threats that he wishes me harm?”

Victoria gasped. “Oh no. Surely not.”

“Perhaps you ought to lie down, V. You do appear a little shaken by the events.” Elizabeth took her hand, and touching snow would’ve been warmer.

“I do feel a little faint,” Victoria said, her voice holding a thread of fear.

“I will have a tisane sent up to you,” Josh said, ushering her to the door.

Once Victoria had left, Josh sat across from her, the muscle in his temple flexing with every second of silence. He was rattled, and that was one emotion her brother rarely was.

“I don’t understand why Riddledale would go against your agreement, and so soon after your discussion. It makes no sense. It mustn’t be him.”

Josh scoffed. “I think your assumptions were correct, even though to admit such pains me to say so. He has a maggot in his head.” He cringed. “It’s too coincidental not to be his lordship. He’s making it plainly clear if he cannot have you, no one shall.” Her brother met her gaze and grimaced. “But we’ll not be able to prove it, of course. It’ll be our allegation against his word yet again.”

“Have you ever heard of a carriage in central London being shot at before? I know I certainly have not.”

Her brother shook his head, frowning. “Of course not. Maybe in the bowels of London such an occurrence would happen, but not in Mayfair.”

The front door slammed, and raised voices sounded in the foyer before the parlor door flew open. Elizabeth turned to see Henry, his gaze flicking over the room, before landing on her, his shoulders slumping in relief.

“How dare you intrude at such a time? You may leave.” Josh’s voice brooked no argument.

Henry strode toward her, his smile melting away her fears over what could’ve been. “I came as soon as I heard what happened. It’s already all over London that ye carriage was shot at. I had to see…”

His words trailed off, but Elizabeth didn’t need to hear them to know what he was going to say.
I had to come see that you were not injured
. “Our carriage is indeed sporting a bullet wound, but I am not, and neither is Victoria, who was with me. We’re fine.”

“If you do not leave and now, Lord Muir, I may feel inclined to place a bullet wound in you.”

Elizabeth met her brother’s eye, her glare forcing her sibling to stand back. “Brother, please,” she said, turning back to Henry. “Thank you for coming and checking on us.”

“Always, lass.”

Josh growled, pouring himself another whisky, mumbling something under his breath Elizabeth couldn’t hear.

A sharp knock sounded before their butler entered. “Your grace, Mr. Johns, the driver of the carriage, would like a word with you. Should I summon him to the house, or would you prefer to see him at the mews?”

Josh downed his drink and glared at Henry. Henry, oblivious to her brother’s annoyance, or not bothering with it, kept his eyes on her, making her hope Josh went out to the mews so she could have Henry alone to herself.

“I will go to the mews.” He picked up his discarded jacket from the back of his chair and pulled it on. “I want to have a look at the carriage. The door is to stay open. I will return shortly,” Josh said, throwing Henry a pointed stare.