Undressed by the Earl (19 page)

Before he could say anything, the baron continued, “She must marry. And she must do so quickly, to silence any further talk. I would—I would feel better knowing that someone like you was looking after her. Especially when I don’t know about…Margaret.” There was a pained expression on his face.

David sobered. If he ever lost Christine, he would be going out of his mind with worry. When he met Lanfordshire’s gaze, he saw the mirror of himself in a dozen years.

He didn’t know how to tell him that another man would be a better choice for Amelia. Her marriage shouldn’t be like this. She deserved so much more than a man like him.

“Would you consider it?” the baron prompted. The man didn’t press him, nor did he demand acquiescence.

David thought of Amelia’s bright spirit. Undoubtedly, Christine would adore her, once they became acquainted. Amelia was brimming with life and excitement. She embraced adventure, and last night she’d kept her courage in the face of danger.

Amelia was not a young woman who would disappear meekly into the background. Not after the way she’d kissed him back. The memory of her innocent embrace was enough to pull apart common sense.

“If you choose not to wed her, I’ll have no alternative but to give her to someone else,” the baron said. “And that isn’t what I want.”

Therein lay the problem. The thought of another man claiming her was enough to draw David’s frustration tighter. He wanted no man to touch her, much less to hear her broken sigh when she was well kissed.

He’d watched over her these past years, seeing the warmhearted girl transform into a woman who stole his senses. She was life and breath to his barren existence.

“I’ll wed her,” he heard himself say. And though the baron smiled with relief, it felt like a terrible thing to do, imprisoning her bright spirit in a world scarred by death.

Henry was relieved that Lord Castledon had agreed to the marriage with his daughter, but Beatrice seemed less enthused about the idea.

“I don’t like this.” His wife paced across his bedroom, her hands clenched together. “I know the earl seems like a decent fellow. But for Amelia to be forced into marriage makes me want to have that horrid viscount put on a ship bound for New Holland. With no food or water,” she added. “Scotland is too good for him.”

“Lord Castledon will take care of her,” he responded. “And he knows Amelia has a sensitive heart.”

His youngest daughter had always held a special place for Henry. When he’d gone off to war, she’d given him a pencil drawing of him and herself holding hands. The limbs had resembled sticks, but the love was there. She never knew how he’d folded that paper inside his shirt, wearing it into battle beneath his uniform.

No, he didn’t want Amelia forced into marriage any more than his wife did.

“That may be,” Beatrice agreed, “but he’s always so serious. I always thought that Lord Castledon was a better match for Margaret.”

The mention of his older daughter brought another pang of worry. Henry had sent dozens of men to search for Margaret, but the underlying fear, that they wouldn’t find her, hadn’t stopped lurking. He pushed the thought from his mind, trying to believe that it would all end well.

“Castledon has agreed to protect Amelia. That’s all that matters now.”

“But to sentence our daughter to a loveless marriage, because she was a man’s victim…how is that right?” Beatrice paced to the opposite side of the room. “No woman should endure such a thing.”

A jagged blade of ice sank through his heart as he stared at his wife. He could almost hear her unfinished words:
The way I did.

His wife hadn’t truly wanted to marry him; he’d known that. When he’d offered for her nearly thirty years ago, she’d been shy and kind to him. He wasn’t much of a catch, being a younger son. Nor was he dashing or handsome like the other gentlemen. He’d never been good at talking to women, and he’d bumbled his way through a courtship. But no one else had offered for her, and eventually Beatrice had agreed to become his.

He’d thought he’d won her heart over the years. Now Henry wondered if she’d seen herself in Amelia’s position—trapped into a marriage she didn’t want.

“They might learn to love one another,” he offered.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so, Henry. He doesn’t want to love her. It wouldn’t surprise me if he put her on one of his estates and left her there to fend for herself.”

Again, he felt the cold chill of awareness, as if she were talking about herself. He’d been an officer, responsible for the lives of so many. War had torn him apart from Beatrice, and he’d ordered her to remain behind, to care for their daughters. After he’d inherited his older brother’s title, he was expected to leave the army immediately.

Instead, he’d avoided his wife and daughters for a time, not wanting to be around them. The nightmares of death and blood had haunted him, until he’d thought he was better off dead than to return home. Eventually, he’d been forced to leave, but when he’d come back, the years of separation had driven a harsh wedge between himself and Beatrice.

Amelia’s words came back to him:
Just try.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked suddenly. “Is there anything…that would help?”

She stopped pacing a moment and returned to stand before him. “I don’t know, Henry. I wanted a better start for her than we had.”

Henry straightened. “I never thought our marriage was a bad start
or
a mistake.” He didn’t know what had prompted him to speak, but perhaps it was time that he voiced a truth. “I was
glad
to marry you.”

She flushed suddenly. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

He moved in and slid an arm around her waist. “I wanted to marry you, from the first moment I saw you. Even if you didn’t want me.”

The shock in her eyes made him wonder if he should have said all of this, years earlier.

“I wanted you then, Beatrice,” he said in a low voice. “And I still do.”

O
NE WEEK LATER

“It feels wrong to get married like this,” Amelia whispered. “Without Margaret.” Her older sisters, Victoria and Juliette, were here, but Margaret was still missing. Although her father had sent men to search, there was no trace of her.

Inside, her emotions were raw. Although the earl had agreed to wed her, he hadn’t seen or spoken to her since he’d acquired the special license. Then, too, she’d confined herself indoors, away from the gossip that cloaked the London ton.

Thankfully, Lord Lisford hadn’t returned. Supposedly he’d gone to stay at one of his northern estates, remaining out of the public eye. At least that was a blessing, not having to face him.

“I believe Margaret is all right,” Juliette said. “If she’s with Cain Sinclair, he’d move Heaven and earth to keep her safe.”

That much was true. The notorious Highlander didn’t play by the rules, and he wouldn’t hesitate to defend her against any harm.

“He’s in love with her,” Victoria added. “For as long as I can remember, he’s been there.”

Amelia knew it, but despite Margaret’s feelings, her sister would never wed a commoner. She had set her sights on a titled lord since she was ten years old. Prim and proper Margaret would never consider marrying anyone whose blood wasn’t as blue as the sea.

It should be Margaret marrying the earl. Not her.

Victoria held out a package wrapped in brown paper. “I brought you something. It’s a wedding gift for tonight.” She exchanged a glance with Juliette, and her sister’s mouth curved in a smile. “Madame Benedict would be furious if she knew I held it back from the last delivery. She has dozens of orders, but without Mr. Sinclair to deliver them to the crofters, this may be the last of Aphrodite’s Unmentionables.”

Although her sister had meant it as a present, the package reminded Amelia of Lady Sarah and the woman’s blackmail demands. In the past few weeks, she’d done nothing at all to meet the woman’s demands. She worried that Lady Sarah would make good on her threat, but thus far, she had not revealed their secret. Before Amelia took the package, she asked her sisters, “Have either of you heard from Lady Sarah?”

Victoria exchanged a glance with both of them. “No. But I’ve told my husband about it. Jonathan sent her a note in return, with a warning.”

Amelia thought back to the first encounter she’d had with Lady Sarah. Although they could easily have her arrested for blackmail, using the note as evidence, it would still bring out their involvement in Aphrodite’s Unmentionables. “Before you do anything, I want to speak with her once more. There may be a way to gain her silence.” She wasn’t certain of how, but she intended to write to the woman and settle the matter.

“Let me know if you have any difficulties,” Victoria urged. Beneath her sister’s tone, she caught the warning, and Amelia promised she would.

“I think you should open Victoria’s gift,” Juliette said, changing the subject. “Go on. Let’s see the unmentionables. Are they terribly wicked?” The gleam in her sister’s eye suggested that they had to be.

I might not need them
, Amelia thought to herself. Lord Castledon had already offered her the chance to wait before consummating their marriage. This marriage would protect her family’s name and prevent scandal from touching them. But there would be no love in it, only friendship.

The thought bothered her deeply, for she
wanted
a wedding night.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, when you share his bed,” Victoria assured her. “And if you wear this, Lord Castledon won’t be able to keep his eyes—or his hands—off you.”

“I’m not afraid,” Amelia lied. “It’s just that all of this was so unexpected.”

“Do you want to marry the earl?” Juliette asked, frowning suddenly.

“Yes.” She did, though she harbored no illusions about the sort of marriage they would have. “Though I don’t think he particularly wants to marry me.”

Juliette’s face softened. “You’re so wrong. I’ve seen the way he’s watched you over the years. He likes you a great deal.”

“As a companion, perhaps. Not a wife.”

“Men don’t know what they want,” Victoria pronounced. “Once he sees you in these unmentionables, every last thought will leave his brain.”

Amelia wasn’t certain. Even after the earl had kissed her, he’d gone silent, as if she’d broken an unspoken rule. And yet…she wanted to marry this man. She wanted to see if there was any way of learning who he truly was, when he wasn’t grieving for his wife.

“I’ll try,” she managed, taking the dark blue lacy garment from her sister. When she touched the silk chemise meant to be worn beneath her corset, she tried to imagine what he would say if he did see it. Would he want to kiss her or touch her? Or would he retreat again?

For a moment, she allowed herself to daydream of what it would be like to feel his kiss again, to experience the weight of his body against hers. Hard upon soft, muscled flesh to womanly curves…

“You will enjoy your wedding night,” Victoria said, but Amelia hardly heard any of her sisters’ attempts to cheer her up. Instead, she put on her shoes and braced herself for what lay ahead.

Chapter Eight

D
avid stood before the clergyman, at precisely ten o’clock in the morning, in Lord Lanfordshire’s parlor. He had gotten a special license from the archbishop a few days ago. They had decided to invite only family and to have the wedding at the baron’s home, in order to avoid gossiping tongues.

Amelia looked terrified, her face a pale contrast against the spray of pink roses in her hair. Her gown was the blue of a summer sky, though she looked ready to flee.

David felt the same way. All last night, he’d questioned whether he was doing the right thing. He’d read his daughter’s letter at least a dozen times, wondering if Amelia would make a good mother for her.

Or whether
he
would be a good husband to Amelia. He might be saving her reputation just now, but in turn, he was giving her a life shadowed by loss. Her gaze was downcast, and he caught the telltale trembling of her hands.

This was not the Amelia he knew so well. This was not the young woman who would speak her mind and order him around. She looked utterly miserable, like a daffodil crushed by a windstorm.

David wanted more for her. He wanted to bring back the amusing moments they’d shared when they were cheating at games. He wanted to see her smile, to hear her laugh. To kiss her until her lips were swollen and her eyes held the haze of unfulfilled desire. Though he tried to stifle the buried needs, he couldn’t deny the effect she had upon him.

He had a mind to put a stop to this and give her an alternative. She was marrying him for all the wrong reasons. But when he glanced over at her parents, he knew that was impossible. Their daughter Margaret had been abandoned on her wedding day, and David was not about to do the same thing to Amelia. It would be utterly cruel, no matter that it would give her other choices.

Right now, she looked as if she were standing before her execution.

“Wait,” he said to the clergyman, before the vows could be spoken. “I need a few minutes alone, to speak with my bride.”

The shocked silence that met his declaration made him add, “I don’t intend to stop the marriage—but we need to talk.”

Amelia gaped at him, but her natural curiosity seemed to stun her out of the cloud of misery and fear. “We could go into the hall,” she suggested.

He took her by the hand, and they walked past her family and a few servants, into the narrow corridor. It seemed that his actions had caught her completely by surprise.

David had a feeling that most of the family would be trying to eavesdrop if they stood too close to the parlor, so he took her to the farthest end, near a grandfather clock. Amelia looked uneasy about the conversation.

“You looked distraught at the idea of marrying me,” he began. “If this isn’t what you want—”

She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “I’m still worried about Margaret. I’m afraid she’s been killed or lost or…”

He knew it had been a week since her sister had gone missing. Despite the efforts to find her, both Margaret and the Highlander had disappeared. The only sign of either of them had been an overturned coach blackened from fire, and a bonnet belonging to Margaret. The ruined vehicle had been found on the road leading toward Scotland. There was no way of knowing if Margaret had been inside, but the shattered vehicle was on the road leading toward Scotland. “Could she have run away with Sinclair?” he questioned. “Or would he take her against her will?”

Amelia shook her head. “Cain’s in love with Margaret and has been for years. All of us know it. He’d die before hurting her.”

“Then you should have faith in that,” he assured her.

When she appeared unconvinced, he added, “Would you like me to hire men to help search, even beyond what your father has done?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “If I knew she was safe, I would feel better.”

“I’ll see to it.” It was a promise that he supposed was better than any wedding present.

Amelia reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.” He started to walk back with her, but she remained in place. “I never thought I’d get married without all of my sisters here. It seems wrong.”

“Would you rather wait until we’ve found Margaret?” Though it wasn’t the best solution, he would delay the wedding if that was what she wanted.

“No. We may as well see it done.”

She made it sound as if marriage to him was an awful prospect. “Do you still want to marry me?” He would let her out of the betrothal if she was having doubts.

“Yes,” she whispered. “But I wish you wanted to marry me. It’s disappointing to feel as if I’ve trapped you into marriage.”

“You haven’t trapped me into anything,” he said, though it might seem so to her. Amelia wasn’t the wife he would have chosen at first, but he wasn’t about to let her become Lisford’s victim of scandal. If he could protect her with his name, so be it.

A part of him warmed to the idea of spending each day with her.
Because you want her
, his body reminded him. The first taste of her kiss wasn’t enough to satiate the craving she’d ignited. And this marriage would bring him directly into the path of temptation.

Amelia’s face grew wistful. “I’ll admit that this isn’t the wedding I was dreaming of, as a little girl.”

He leaned up against the wall, watching her. “What
did
you dream of?” In the small space, she glanced behind her, as if worried about her family waiting. “Don’t worry about them.”

Amelia leaned back against the wall, staring at him. “I dreamed it would be a fairy tale—that I would marry a dashingly handsome man who adored me.”

“Am I not dashingly handsome?” he queried.

And there was her smile. The fear dissipated, and the inner light returned to her eyes. “In your own way,” she admitted. “For a wall-hedge.”

He tipped her chin up and regarded her. “I know I’m not the husband you wanted. But we can be friends.”

Amelia reached out to touch his cravat, and he flinched at the contact. Though she did nothing more than rest her hands upon his heart, the simple touch burned through him. “We can,” she agreed.

Her green eyes fixed upon him, and he was caught beneath her spell. He was conscious of her slender form and the gentle blush on her cheeks. Her hair was tightly bound up, and he wondered what it would be like to see it down around her shoulders.

“Would you kiss me again?” she murmured. “I want to know if I imagined what happened between us in the coach.”

He didn’t move, for he was captivated by her full lips. He wanted to taste them again, just as she wanted to kiss him. But if he dared to give rein to those feelings, he sensed that he would lose control of himself.

She stood on tiptoe, rising to meet him. David caught her and threaded his hands through her hair. Before she could touch her mouth to his, he pressed a brief kiss upon her lips. The moment he did, he felt her tension. She’d wanted the kiss of a husband, and he’d given the kiss of a friend.

“You’re afraid,” she accused, and he said nothing to deny it. It wasn’t fear that held him back. It was the sense that if he claimed her with a husband’s right, he couldn’t turn back. Something about Amelia Andrews tempted him beyond measure.

“Try again,” she urged.

And this time, he kissed her deeply, forcing her mouth to open to him. He framed her face with his hands, claiming her lips. He tasted her uncertainty and a hint of longing. Her arms twined around his neck, drawing him closer while she kissed him back. It wasn’t the kiss of a reluctant bride; instead, her mouth opened, inviting more. He could give her that.

Drawing her up against the wall, he nipped at her upper lip and felt the answering shudder of yearning. She answered his kiss with her own unbridled passion. And God help him, he was nearing the edge of control.

“I can’t think when you kiss me,” she whispered against his mouth.

Neither can I.
He let his hands slide down her shoulders to her waist. “Was that better?” She nodded with a shaky smile, and he took her hand. There was a trace of unrest in her demeanor, but they walked together back to the parlor.

Amelia paused a moment, and before they stepped through the doorway, she turned to him.

In a low voice, she threw down a gauntlet of her own. “If you marry me now, Lord Castledon, I want to be treated like a wife. Not a companion.”

It was clear that she had no intention of fading into the background as a mother to Christine. She wanted to be his in every way, not only in name. He reached out to touch her cheek. “Perhaps.”

It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but he could make no promises. He hardly trusted himself around Amelia. Her kiss pushed him past the edge of reason, beckoning him toward a new addiction. If he did share a physical marriage with her, he suspected it would only awaken a hunger that could never be sated.

The wedding was over so quickly, Amelia could scarcely remember the troth she’d pledged. The earl had touched his mouth to hers, and once she’d become his wife, she couldn’t quite grasp the reality. She was now the Countess of Castledon, stepmother to a young girl she’d never met.

They enjoyed cakes and light refreshments after the wedding, but owing to Margaret’s absence, it wasn’t much of a celebration. “This seems so strange,” Amelia confessed. “Almost as if it happened to someone else.”

The earl nodded, appearing more than a little distracted. She wondered if there was anything she could say to reassure him. Or better, she could ask about her new stepdaughter.

“When will I meet Christine?” she asked.

At the mention of his daughter, Lord Castledon relaxed a little. “I could send you on to Castledon in the morning,” he offered. “Parliament will be out of session soon enough.”

The idea of arriving at his house alone was not a welcome one. “I’d rather wait,” she admitted. It would be awkward enough to become part of an unfamiliar household. Without the earl there to introduce her, she’d feel even more out of place.

“We won’t have to stay in London very long,” he said. “I hope you can find a way to amuse yourself.”

She nodded, but inwardly, her thoughts were still with Margaret. “Will you keep your promise to send men after my sister?”

“I said I would.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I know how close you are.”

A sudden thought occurred to Amelia, that she knew very little about the earl. She had no idea about the rest of his family. “What of you?” she asked. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

He shook his head. “My sister died when she was ten, of scarlet fever.”

“And your parents?”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m the only one left, I’m afraid. They both died shortly after Katherine did. First my father, then my mother.”

She’d never realized that he was all but an orphan. “That’s terrible. No wonder you were so glum all those years.”

“I’d rather not speak of it, if you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t suppose it’s a very pleasant wedding conversation,” she agreed. But it made her realize how very difficult those years must have been. It was a wonder he’d attended any society events at all, and it certainly explained why he’d worn black all the time.

But when she peered closer at his coat, she saw that his waistcoat was dark green. Leaning forward, she touched the brocade, and for some reason, it made her smile. “You’re not wearing black anymore.”

“Not today.”

But it made her imagine that perhaps he would come to accept her as his wife. She took his arm, and a flutter of happiness settled within her heart. In spite of Margaret’s absence, there were so many reasons to be thankful. She was now married to a handsome man who truly
was
a hero, though he’d hidden his true nature for so many years. He was wonderful at kissing, and she found herself dreaming of what it would be like if he consummated their marriage tonight. He hadn’t said no, and it gave her a reason to hope. This was a new beginning for both of them, and nothing would diminish it.

They said their farewells to her parents and sisters, and the earl escorted her back to his carriage. Amelia let him help her inside, and they began the short drive to his town house.

For a time, he appeared to be bothered by something. She wanted to ask him what it was, but decided he would tell her when he was ready. Within minutes, they were arriving at his house. “When we go inside, I’ll introduce you to our staff. They should provide you with everything you need.”

Then the earl met her gaze and revealed the reason for his discomfort. “I would ask that you…not change the way the rooms are decorated. Katherine made them as they are, and it would bother Christine greatly to see them altered when she comes to visit again.”

“I understand,” Amelia said softly, but she strongly suspected that this was about his own desire for the rooms not to be altered, not his daughter’s. She prayed they weren’t decorated in black or a garish gold that would give her nightmares.

The footman opened the door, and the earl disembarked first, helping Amelia down. At first glance, his home was like any other. The town house had a white façade with large windows, and decorative balustrades rested beneath each one. Two tall Corinthian columns framed a stairway leading up to the front door.