Undressed by the Earl (30 page)

He was torn between agreeing with her and arguing against making any changes. This was his estate, his home. And he didn’t want her turning it upside down in his absence.

“And what other changes are you planning?” he asked, glancing at the list. “To change our food?”

She folded her arms across her chest, blocking his view of her curves. “Indeed, yes. It’s entirely unpalatable. I prefer my dinner to taste good.”

The defiance on her face, along with her dry comment, made him want to fluster her mood. “Is that so?” He pulled her hips to his, lowering his mouth to her throat. She shuddered when the warmth of his breath met her skin.

“Y-yes.”

“Aren’t you afraid of the consequences, if you make too many changes?”

“You won’t be here to stop me,” she murmured, trying to pull away. He held her trapped, watching the way she was beginning to respond to his touch. “Being a well-behaved young woman hasn’t worked well for me thus far, has it?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the wickedness in her tone spoke of rebellion.

“Aren’t you afraid of being punished?” He drew his thumb over her lips and saw her flush deepen. “I will come back, you know.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she responded. “You’re all bark and no bite.”

Her open provocation made him react on instinct. He seized her roughly and kissed her hard, silencing the insolent words. The moment he did, she clung hard, her fingers gripping his hair. He responded to her, unable to stop himself from moving against her hips. The feeling of her softness yielding against his arousal made him desire her more.

He broke free of the kiss, nipping at her earlobe. Against her sensitive flesh, he whispered, “Oh, but I do bite, Amelia. Especially when someone taunts me.”

She was breathing harder, and gooseflesh covered her skin. Her hands moved down from his neck, slipping beneath his shirt. “Perhaps that’s what I should have done all along.” Her smooth hands caressed his nape, and the sharp fist of desire struck him.

He wanted to lift her up and claim her this very moment, but he forced the urge back. “I’m leaving in the morning,” he told her. “When I return, I want nothing to be changed.”

“Everything will change,” she said. “I’ll handle the consequences later.” She squeezed his neck and kissed him again. “Sometimes it’s necessary to misbehave.”

Her insinuation made him imagine all sorts of misbehavior, all of which involved her being naked in his bed. She was tangling him up in knots, making him want her when he had tried to keep his life in order.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret.” He let go of her, stepping away to keep himself from losing command. Right now, he was envisioning undressing her, using his mouth upon her bare skin, and taking her until she arched with delight.

“The only thing I regret is not acting sooner,” she answered. With a smile, she led him out of her room. “I intend to be very, very bad.”

God help him.

“That woman is the Antichrist,” admitted Mrs. Larson the following morning, when Amelia met with the Scotswoman at the top of the attic stairs. She led the housekeeper inside and closed the door to give them more privacy. “Mrs. Menford, I mean,” the Scotswoman said. “She terrorizes the puir staff, and if a body says aught against her, she sends them off to work with nary a bite to eat.
She
is the problem.”

Which wasn’t at all a surprise to Amelia.

“And if I get a new housekeeper?” Amelia asked. “Will the others fall in line?”

“’Twill no’ be easy. Many of the servants are her nieces and nephews. Ye’ll have to find someone who’s no’ related to her.”

Amelia thought about it for a moment. “I think we should ask her to go on holiday for a few days, and I’ll let you run the household during that time. We should see if there’s a kitchen maid or an older servant who could take her place.”

“I’d wait until His Lordship is away,” Mrs. Larson advised. “She willna go easily, and ye’ll have better luck when he’s no’ here to naysay the orders.”

Amelia agreed with that assessment. Changing the subject, she asked, “What do you think of this space in the attic? Will Christine like it for writing her stories?”

The housekeeper surveyed the room. Over the past few weeks, Amelia had worked here in secret, clearing out the older furniture and making a space beside the window. From here, the girl could see across the gardens, and there was enough sunlight for writing. She’d also set out the paper, new pens, and ink that she’d purchased on the day they’d gone shopping.

“Aye, that she will,” Mrs. Larson said. “But I sense trouble from the lass. She doesna like ye verra much, does she?”

“Christine has made it quite clear that she doesn’t want me as her mother. And I can’t say that I know what I’m doing, either.” Amelia sat down in the chair beside the window, staring out at the rainy summer day. Clouds misted across the horizon, revealing patches of green. “This wasn’t what I thought my life would be like, Mrs. Larson.”

“It ne’er is, dove. But at least ye have a good husband, and ye’ll have children of yer own, soon enough.”

Amelia said nothing, for her courses had come and gone twice already. There might not be a child for months yet. And if David was leaving for Thornwyck, there was no chance at all to conceive.

“He
has
done his bit, has he no’?” the housekeeper asked. “If he’s needing a charm to help get it up, I suppose I could mix up a potion to put in his tea. There are ways—”

Amelia choked on the woman’s mistaken belief. “No. No, that’s not the problem. We—we have already consummated the marriage.” Her face was burning with humiliation. “He’s simply getting over the loss of his wife.”

Mrs. Larson softened at that. “Och, well, then, he’s confused. How long has the puir man been alone?”

“Six years,” Amelia answered.

“Six?” The housekeeper rolled her eyes. “That’s plenty o’ time to put the past to rest. And if the man hasna had much of a romp in six years, he’s like to burst open.”

Amelia’s face flushed even hotter. “I’ve taken matters into my own hands.”

The old woman cackled. “Ye should take
him
into yer own hands, lass. I promise it willna take long for him to be coaxed.”

“Mrs. Larson!” Amelia was appalled to hear the woman speaking so plainly.

“Ah, but ye’re married now, my wee dove. Bed yer husband every night, and all will be right again. And he’ll do your bidding when it comes to the servants.”

Amelia wasn’t so sure about that. The earl had made it quite clear he didn’t want her interference. But then, she was far too wary about letting things be the way they were. She was not a shy flower to wilt in the face of adversity. No, she intended to stand up for herself and make all the necessary changes.

“I’ll…take care of it,” she said at last. “And in the meantime, we’ll leave a note for Christine that she can now enjoy this place of her own.” Amelia had often wished for a retreat from her sisters, a place where she could be alone and dream. The attic space would be perfect for her stepdaughter.

Mrs. Larson opened her arms and offered a warm embrace. “Don’t fash yerself about yer husband. He’ll love ye, sure enough.”

Amelia wanted to believe it, especially after she’d stood up to Lord Castledon last night. His fierce kisses twined around her imagination, making her long for more. “He’s leaving today.”

“Then what on earth are ye doing here? Go on now, and interrupt him before he goes.” The housekeeper shooed her off, adding, “I’ll finish here.”

Amelia ventured a quiet smile, though she suspected the earl had other plans.

Chapter
T
welve

S
arah was beginning to wonder if she’d done the right thing in delaying her journey. Although Brandon had been released from the asylum after he’d proven that he understood their questions, she sensed a darkness in him. He’d spoken on several occasions about killing everyone in the Andrews family—starting with Paul Fraser and his wife, Juliette.

Her earlier relief at his recovery had now turned to fear. She didn’t know her brother anymore, and he appeared emotionless, as i
f he frankly didn’t care about the consequences of his actions. Though she didn’t want to believe he would go through with his plans for murder, his calculating demeanor gave her pause.

She’d found a scrap of paper among his belongings, with every Andrews name listed upon it, including the other three sisters, Lady Lanfordshire, and her husband, the baron.

A coldness settled in her bones, for her brother spoke of killing in the same manner as disposing of an irritating insect. Brandon knew exactly how to appear calm and composed, speaking the right
words to the authorities, until he’d reestablished his claim upon the title and entailed lands.

If she remained here with him, she could be implicated in whatever crimes he committed. Sarah closed her eyes, trying to think of how she could slip away. She still had the funds and jewels Amelia had given her, but it didn’t sit well on her conscience to disappear without warning them. But how? She couldn’t very well travel to Scotland. Perhaps it was best if she wrote to them. She could—

“You seem nervous, Sarah,” came Brandon’s voice.

She took a breath and faced him. With a false smile, she said, “Not at all. But I was thinking we should return to Strathland and see what’s happened to the estate there. Our cousin took control while you were…away…and I don’t know what decisions he made in your absence. And there’s the estate in the Highlands as well.”

“As it happens, I
do
intend to travel to Scotland,” he said. “I’ll be visiting Edinburgh first.”

The blood drained away from her face, for that was not far from where Juliette and Dr. Fraser lived. For many years, her brother had obsessed over Juliette Andrews, but the young woman had run away and married the Scottish doctor. Brandon had never forgotten it.

“Oh?” She tried to act as if it were nothing. “And how long will you be gone?”

“That doesn’t matter to you, for you’ll be accompanying me.”

No. She could play no part in this. “Brandon, I have plans of my own. I’m leaving within the week.”

His expression curved into a smirk. “No. You won’t.” He made a hand motion for someone to enter, and when Sarah turned around, she saw a tall man approaching. He closed in on her, seizing both of her arms until she cried out in pain.

“You’re going to pay a call on Juliette, on my behalf.”

“Why would I want to?” she gritted out, well aware that the man behind her could easily break her arms.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll let Richardson have you. You can spend the entire journey to Scotland in a coach with him, and I’ll wager he’ll enjoy it more than you will.”

The man’s hot breath made her skin crawl, and Sarah demanded, “Release me.”

At a nod from Brandon, he did. But she strongly suspected her brother had hired the man to help him kill the others. She had to run away from both of them, and today would be her only chance.

“I’ll go and pack,” she informed him. But inwardly, she prayed she could slip away before either of them knew she was missing.

After saying farewell to Christine, David paused at the bottom of the stairs. Though he knew Amelia had been looking for him, he wanted a moment to clear his head. It was necessary to leave, for he
did
need to inspect Thornwyck and his other estates.

The sadness in his daughter’s eyes had reminded him of Amelia’s accusation, that he abandoned her too often. And he was avoiding his wife, too.

He admitted to himself that he would miss her. Not only the life she’d breathed into him, but her smile and the way she filled the empty spaces. If he didn’t leave now, he would come to depend upon her. He would undoubtedly fall in love with Amelia.

And he didn’t want to cross that line—not again.

He started to leave the house, and Mrs. Larson interrupted, “Lord Castledon, will you be wanting any food to take with ye on your journey?” She offered to go and fetch him something, but David refused.

“Not now, thank you. But you can see to it that the footmen load my trunks into the coach for departure. I’ll be leaving to go north in the next hour or two.”

The older woman’s face dimmed, but she curtseyed. “Are ye certain I shouldna be packing Lady Castledon’s belongings as well? I can speak to her maid, if ye like.”

“No. I’ll be going alone to Thornwyck.” He turned away and ordered a horse from the stables. Before he left, he wanted to ride to the edges of his estate, simply to escape the wayward thoughts in his brain.

When the horse was ready, his groom helped him to mount the gelding, and David urged it onward. Outside the air was ghostly, the grass cloaked in mist. He rode without thinking, directing the animal to go faster.

His mind turned over the image of Amelia, of her smile and the way she stood up to him at every turn. She was so very different from Katherine. The image of his first wife’s face haunted him, and he closed his eyes, forcing it back. He’d had enough of this. He had to relinquish the memories, or he’d fall into madness.

I’m letting you go
, he told her ghost.

David increased the pace, turning back toward the house. He hardly cared that the landscape was blurring past them at immense speed. The horse stumbled abruptly, and David had no time to grasp the reins before he fell hard. The gelding whinnied and rolled for a moment before getting back up. He breathed a little easier when he saw that the animal appeared uninjured.

He sat up and saw blood running down over his palms. His body ached from the fall, and for long moments, he remained sitting on the ground. A few minutes later, Amelia arrived at his side.

“I saw you fall. Are you all right?” she asked. Her hair was undone around her shoulders, and it appeared that she’d been running hard.

He remained transfixed by the blood on his palms, and he took a steadying breath. “It’s nothing.”

Amelia knelt down beside him and took his hand. “You could have broken your neck,” she said, fear creasing her face. “I was so worried about you.” She gave him a handkerchief, and he wiped at the blood. For a moment, he held on to the stained bit of linen.

“Mrs. Larson said you’re leaving.” Her face was pale with dismay. “I wish you would take us with you.”

The urge was there, to tell her yes. And yet, when he looked into her deep green eyes, he saw the face of a woman who was in love with him. If he asked her to go into a searing desert, she would. She reached up to touch his cheek, and he looked past her, stroking the back of her hair. He should have known this might happen. He’d never intended to hurt Amelia—had never wanted to.

But he honestly didn’t want to be in love again. He wasn’t worthy of such devotion, and it was best to separate himself. He no longer trusted his ability to remain apart from her.

“I can’t take you along,” he said. “Not this time.”

His groom arrived on horseback then, saving him the trouble of saying anything more. The man took one look at them and reddened. “My lord, I am sorry to disturb you, but your coach is ready to depart.”

“Thank you.” He took Amelia by the hand. “Lady Castledon and I will walk back. Tell my daughter I would like to see her once more before I leave.”

After the groom had left, Amelia held back from walking toward the house. Her face appeared shielded, as if she were suppressing her emotions.

“May I speak frankly, Lord Castledon?”

So. They were back to formal terms again. “You always do,” he felt compelled to answer.

She gripped her hands together. “I don’t want to be the left-behind wife. I want to be at your side, learning what I need to know about all of our properties.”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Then what
do
I need to worry over? You don’t want me to make any changes in the household, and I’m not allowed to even see the other estates. You make me feel like a paper doll, good for nothing more than decoration.” Her eyes were glittering with frustration. “I won’t let you brush me aside. Especially not after the way you make me feel when we’re together.”

He didn’t know what to say anymore. She
did
make him feel, more than he had in the past six years. And he didn’t want to go through that madness again.

“We agreed that our marriage would be an arrangement,” he said, even knowing that the words were cruel. “I have provided for your needs, and in time, we may have an heir of our own. But don’t lift up your hopes for more, Amelia.” His hands tightened upon her shoulders. “I lost one wife, and it nearly killed me to watch her die. I won’t go through that again.”

“I have no intention of dying,” she said softly. “I’m perfectly healthy.”

“So was she. And the sickness came without warning. She was dead within five months.” He released her, quickening his pace so she had no choice but to keep up with him. “You are a good woman, Amelia, with a large heart. Give your love to Christine. Not to me, for I can’t return it.”

“You won’t return it,” she countered. “You won’t let anyone inside that stone heart of yours.”

He stopped walking and stared at her. “You want more than I’m capable of giving.”

“And what about the nights we’ve shared?” she demanded. “Were they worth nothing to you?” Her face paled as if afraid of his answer.

Damn it all, he was going to have to hurt her feelings. He didn’t want to speak the words to make her hate him, but neither did he want her to love him. “I see nothing wrong with enjoying the physical side to our marriage, if it pleases you.”

She stopped walking, gripping her arms tightly. The fury on her face was harsh, of a woman who loathed what he’d said.

“You’re lying to me. I can see that you do feel something for me. Even if you don’t want to.”

He continued walking away, while a tight ache caught in his throat. This was what he hadn’t wanted—for her to see the coldhearted man he’d become.

And when he reached the waiting coach, he saw her standing on the hillside, refusing to come any closer.

Amelia left the first clue for Christine on her bed. She knew better than to show the girl the writing space she’d prepared. Christine would only scoff and turn up her nose. But Amelia truly believed that the girl would enjoy the new paper and quills, as well as a special place for writing. And so it was that she’d invented a treasure hunt, with each note leading to another clue.

She pretended not to notice when Christine entered the drawing room, with a note in her hand. “Why would you think I’d be interested in your silly games?” The girl’s tone held ridicule, but Amelia noticed that she was wearing the lilac muslin gown they had bought together. It was a small victory, and so she ignored her stepdaughter’s rudeness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Amelia lied, pouring herself a cup of tea. “It’s not a game. Your father simply wanted to leave you a gift.” If she told the girl it was from David, she might be more willing to accept it. “I thought this would be a more interesting way for you to find it.”

Her stepdaughter frowned a moment. “A gift from Papa?”

“Who else?” Amelia pretended as if it didn’t matter and reached for a biscuit dusted in sugar.

“But
you
wrote these clues,” she said. “I know your handwriting.”

“He’s the one who purchased it for you. I simply thought it would be a more adventurous way to give the gift.” She held out a plate to Christine. “Would you like a biscuit?”

The girl shook her head, confusion reigning over her face. “No.” In her hand, she held the last clue Amelia had left. “But you want me to go into the attic. I can’t.”

The girl’s face held dismay, and Amelia offered, “Do you want me to go with you?”