The Earl is Mine (31 page)

It was a light blue muslin with a row of matching darker-hued blue ribbons running down the center of the skirt, from right below the bodice to the sophisticated flounced hem.

“Did you?” Pippa was so impressed. “It’s beautiful. And very French.”

Lady Brady grinned. “Thank you. And I’ll have you know I still work on commission occasionally. For a while, when Janice was at boarding school in Switzerland, I made gowns for her European schoolmates, some of whom were princesses. They adored her clothes and couldn’t believe her mother made them.” She chuckled. “Once a lady makes money, Pippa, it’s difficult to give it up.”

“You’re such an inspiration to me, my lady.”

“I don’t mean to be.” She smiled. “All I’m suggesting to you is that if you have a passion, it’s wonderful to be able to share it with the man you love. In marriage, two people should honor and respect—my goodness, they should
celebrate
—the talents the other person brings to the relationship. Those gifts are part of who we are. In my case, it wasn’t just sewing that I loved. All women are encouraged to sew. I also loved designing clothes for other women and girls and running my own shop. Not many gentlemen of the
ton
would approve of that, much less marry a woman in that position.”

“Exactly,” said Pippa. “But Lady Brady—”

She didn’t know how to say it.

“What, my dear?”

“Gregory doesn’t want me to go to Paris to study sugar sculpture. Not really. He did offer to take me with you and your daughters for several weeks, which was generous of him. But he’s very disapproving of the idea in general. He says I have a duty to marry. He insists I should be in London.”

Lady Brady drew back. “Did you say Gregory offered to take you to Paris?”

“Well, yes.”

The marchioness laughed loudly enough that Mr. Dawson stirred in his sleep. “Pippa”—she laid her hand over hers again—“Gregory adores his sisters and me, but he can’t stand traveling with us unless we’re outnumbered by the men in the party. Since he left Oxford, he’s turned down every opportunity to do so, claiming that the women of the house bring too many trunks and in general create such a fuss that he has a headache for days on end. He’s quite adamant about it. So the fact that he said he’d take you to Paris with us in tow”—she laughed again—“I can’t wait to tell Marcia, Janice, and Cynthia.”

“You can’t?” Pippa let a little chuckle escape.

“This is proof enough for me,” Lady Brady said, her chuckles subsiding. “I’ll bet my very best gown—the one I wore to Janice’s presentation at Court—that Gregory’s in love. I probably shouldn’t say so, but a mother knows—it’s the little things.”

“That’s very kind of you to bet your best gown.” Pippa felt like laughing one second and crying the next, she was so stressed—and euphoric—from being in love and not knowing what to do about it. “But I think I’ll have to hear the words from Gregory himself.”

“Of course. Ask him why he wants you in London. I
dare
you.” The marchioness grinned.

“I will, then,” Pippa said, and grinned back.

Chapter Twenty-two

It was three o’clock when Gregory saw the gray carriage in the distance, coming toward him at a spanking pace, another carriage following behind. His relief was so great, he didn’t even think what the presence of the other carriage could mean. He pulled Prince up short so he could catch his breath. The piebald gave a whinny of frustration, but Gregory soothed him with some comforting words: “She’s back. We have another chance, Prince, to win her.”

He hoped. He’d spent the past few hours on the wrong roads, searching in the wrong direction. What if the carriage were empty—or contained only Mr. Dawson?

He must have properly conveyed his concern to the horse because Prince stood alert—his ears pricked, his neck long—and waited, too. Well in advance of the two carriages’ approach, Gregory put his palm in the air to alert the one in front—the one he hoped carried Pippa—to his presence. The driver began to slow almost immediately, and some twenty seconds later, came to a full stop in front of Gregory. The next one did the same.

And Gregory’s heart nearly stopped. The black carriage’s driver wore the signature Brady coat, the one with the large, flat gold buttons.

What the devil?

“Horace! Is that you?” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Yes, Master Gregory!” the driver of the black carriage called from the box. “I mean, Lord Westdale!”

He heard a door flung open from that second carriage. A second later, a well-dressed gentleman leaped down to the road. “Gregory?” It was Father. “Your mother and I are here to pay a visit.”

Good God. Father came striding down the road, stood beside the gray carriage’s door, and crossed his arms. He looked none too happy. What did he know?

And what the
hell
was going on?

But Gregory couldn’t take time to wonder. Seeing Pippa was all.

“Hello, Father,” he said somberly, then looked at the driver of the gray carriage. “Where is she?” he yelled from Prince’s back, and didn’t care who heard the agony, the desperation, in his voice.

“It was a mistake,” the driver said in a low, frightened tone. “That old man made me do it. I just want to go home. Lady Pippa is inside, and she promised if I behaved—”

“
Is
she inside?” Gregory held his breath. The driver nodded, and Gregory released it silently.

Pippa was back. Thank God.

“Here’s our chance, Prince,” he said in a low voice, and slid off the saddle. His legs were sore from the bruising ride, but he walked straight and tall to Father.

“We need to talk. Back at the house.” Not just about Pippa, either.

But now wasn’t the time.

“Ye’re right,” said Father, in his thickest Irish brogue.

Ah. That meant he was extremely angry. But at the moment, Gregory didn’t care.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

He wanted to get to his woman!

“Allow me.” Father opened the door, and Mama’s beautiful face appeared, a soft smile on her lips.

Gregory’s heartbeat became a smidgen less erratic. Always, Mama brought ease to a situation.

“It’s good to see you, son,” she said, and let Father take her by the waist and swing her down.

Together, they walked past Gregory toward Prince. A few moments later, he heard his horse-mad father talking low to Prince, admiration in his tone. He was, no doubt, holding on to the prized stallion’s reins for Gregory.

But Gregory didn’t bother to look.

His eyes were on Pippa, who stood inside the door frame of the carriage looking down at him with her hair cascading around the shoulders of her voluminous shirt, which had come loose from her breeches.

Only two yards—but an entire world of hurt—separated them.

“Lord Westdale,” she said from her perch, “please tell me something.”

“Anything,” he replied.

She jumped down to the ground. “
Why
do you want me in London?”

His answer came as naturally as breathing. “Because I can’t live without you. Because I
love
you, Pippa. My darling, if only you knew how—”

But before he could go on, she leaped into his arms.

“Gregory.”
She wrapped her legs around his middle, her arms about his back, and kissed him as hard as she could on his mouth. And then she buried her face in his neck and held on tight. “Don’t let me go,” she whispered.

“I won’t,” he whispered back, and kissed the top of her head. He looked up to see he was facing his parents, with Prince. Several horsemen appeared in the distance, including a woman on sidesaddle. “Never again.”

Pippa pulled back a fraction of an inch. “Mr. Dawson is sleeping, but he’s ill. He’ll need help. But don’t let anyone hurt him. Please. He’s grieving his wife—and he has big regrets about his life. He broke down, but I think with the proper care, he can be restored.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt him,” Gregory vowed.

She slid down his body, and reluctantly, he released her.

“I’m going to be with him now,” she said. “I’ll ride back with him to the house. If you don’t mind being in charge of explanations about Harrow to everyone but your mother, who already knows all—”

“All?”

Her cheeks bloomed red. “Almost all,” she said with a giggle, and then her eyes grew round. “My goodness, there’s quite an audience here.”

A gaggle of riders came up wearing sober miens, their horses at slow walks. The riders drew up their own horses near Prince and Gregory’s parents. All of them appeared surprised to see them, as well as the second carriage. But they said nothing and sat expectantly, their eyes riveted on Pippa—in her man’s clothes.

She sent them a little wave.

“Don’t worry,” Gregory murmured. “They’re far enough away we can say what we need to. Even though they can’t hear, they’re getting a thrill just watching us, especially you, the valet who’s really a woman in disguise.”

Pippa smiled. “The gossip’s going to be delicious. But back to Mr. Dawson: I’d like to take him directly upstairs to bed. I’m going to be his valet one last time.”

Gregory kissed her brow. “That’s a fine idea. Would you like some company? Your old friend Eliza would love to see you. She’s heading this way now.”

For a split second, Pippa looked ill at ease.

He squeezed her shoulders. “Don’t worry, all’s well now.”
Almost all
. He pulled her tight beneath his chin, inhaling the now-familiar scent of lavender in her hair. “Let me explain—”

“Shhhh.” She pulled back and put a finger to his lips. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. Your mother and I talked. I know how difficult this situation was for you, and you’ll be glad to know—”

She leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Walter is definitely Dougal’s son.”

“I know,” he said.

“You do?”

He grinned. “Yes. I spoke with Eliza. My love, I’m sorry we were ever together the way we were. I hate to cause you pain. And Eliza’s brokenhearted that she’s hurt you. Neither of us ever loved the other. It was a mistake.”

“It’s all right. Even if the baby had been yours, I never would have stopped loving you. Ever. I simply thought you still loved Eliza. That look on your face—”

“That look wasn’t about her at all. It was about Walter, yes, but there’s more. It was about me, too.”

“What do you mean?”

He took her by the waist and stared deep into her eyes. “I need to know you’ll stand by me. Because I have something rather shocking to tell you. But first, I have to confide in my father. It’s about our family, about something that happened long ago, but it has public implications. It will be difficult to hear, love, and if you do decide it’s too much to bear, I’ll understand.”

“Nothing will be too much to bear,” she insisted. “I love you. I’ll stand by you, no matter what.”

He pulled a lock of hair off her face. “One thing more about Eliza and that day in the garden. I went there to give her my mother’s ring and ask her to marry me.”

“I know,” Pippa said. “Your mother told me.”

“She did?”

Pippa laughed. “We’re women, darling. We
talk
.”

“I suppose you do, especially in confined spaces when you’re together for hours—”

“And we have someone we love in common.” Pippa chided him with a glance.

“Right, then.” He chuckled. “My point is that I had entirely practical, heartless reasons to want Eliza as my wife. And I’m so glad that fate intervened in the form of a certain stubborn young lady with a sketch pad, who was present to witness the luckiest moment of my life—until now—and that was when I saw Eliza and Dougal kissing and appearing madly in love, which they clearly were. Thank God I stumbled upon that scene. Or I’d never have discovered
real
love—with you.”

“Oh, Gregory.” Pippa’s voice was soft, sure. “It’s always been you. And I still have that drawing I made in the garden. I wouldn’t throw it away, as much as it caused me pain to look at it. It represented my deepest longing—to be with you.”

They shared an intoxicating kiss.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that my firstborn will have a mother with fiery hair and a temper to match.” His voice was gruff with desire for her.

She laughed and they kissed again, their bodies fused from mouth to knee. But it was no longer enough. He had to make her his—and soon.

He was still lost in the heady sensation of being wrapped around his beloved, still marveling that everything was right between them, when a loud cough interrupted them. “My lord, should I take the carriage and Mr. Dawson back to Thurston Manor?”

The driver, whom Gregory recognized as one of the surly footmen at the manor, kept his eyes on a distant object as though he were doing his best to maintain their privacy, but his red face gave away his discomfort.

“Lady Pippa will ride with him, along with her friend Lady Morgan. Lady Morgan?” He beckoned to Eliza with a hand.

She leaped down from her saddle and came running over to give Pippa a huge hug. “Hello, old friend!” The two women clasped each other close with no sign of release. “Count on you to wear the unusual thing. Only you could carry off breeches so beautifully.”

They both laughed and finally pulled back, flustered yet happy, Gregory was pleased to see.

Eliza looked searchingly at Pippa’s face. “Please tell me you’re all right. Let me ride back with you to Thurston Manor.”

“I’d like that.” Sincerity infused Pippa’s words. “We have so much to catch up on. Walter is an absolute
love
.” She winced happily on the word
love,
as if she couldn’t contain her delight in the chubby baby.

“Isn’t he?” Eliza mirrored Pippa’s over-the-top expression. It was something Gregory had often seen women do when discussing babies. And then she flung grateful arms around Pippa again.

Relief made him squint up at Dougal and grin, and Dougal rolled his eyes and grinned back. Gregory didn’t realize how much he’d wanted Pippa to embrace his old friends—even if he hadn’t, for so long. And the main reason was because he was proud of her. He was proud of
them
. And he wanted to show everyone he’d ever known how lucky he was and how different his life would be, now that he’d found the love of his life.