What a Wicked Earl Wants (16 page)

Justin would be far better off if his friendship with George ended, but Bell understood the boy’s anger.

An instant later, he realized his own hypocrisy. He’d gotten Laura to agree to be his friend, but tonight he’d seduced her at the billiards table.

She deserved better.

Bell helped her into the carriage. Justin followed. Bell sat with his back to the horses. No one said a word.

He wondered if she would refuse to see him again. She ought to refuse to admit him.

Damn it all. She would feel guilty because her son had been there. He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault. He wanted to tell her that he’d never meant to lead her astray, but she knew better. It wasn’t the first time he’d coaxed her into his arms. Oh, he’d played a game with her that first day in her drawing room. She’d fallen hook, line, and sinker for his ploy.

Now something twisted in his gut.

The carriage lurched to a halt. Bell descended and assisted her on the steps. After Justin got out, he ran up the walkway.

Reed opened the door, and Justin fled inside.

She flinched. “Thank you for the escort, Lord Bellingham. I can see myself inside.”

“Laura, may I come in?”

“If this is about our earlier…indiscretion, I’ve no wish to discuss it. It should not have happened, but it did. Now I wish to forget it.”

“We need to discuss it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, wrapping her shawl tighter around her.

“It’s cold, and I don’t like to leave things hanging.”

She remained silent for a moment. “Very well, but we will make this brief.”

He had a good idea of what she meant to say, but he had something to say as well.

Reed greeted them as they stepped into the foyer. “My lady, Lord Bellingham.”

“I take it Justin is upstairs,” she said.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Thank you, Reed,” she said.

Bell led Laura toward the staircase and noted the tight set of her mouth.

When they entered the drawing room, he saw the fire had burned low. “I’ll stir the coals if you wish.”

“Thank you.” She sat upon the sofa and rearranged her shawl.

He removed the fire screen and poked at the coals, producing a decent fire. When he replaced the screen, he looked back at her. “Would you like me to light candles?”

“No, it’s wasteful, and we’ve sufficient light from the fire.”

Here was more evidence of their differences. He never would have thought twice about lighting a dozen candles, but he’d always lived a privileged life.

Bell sat beside her. “You probably think me a devil. I didn’t plan what happened tonight.”

“I know.”

He blew out his breath. “You are a lady, and I took advantage of you tonight.”

She turned toward him. “I am a grown woman, not an innocent girl just out in society. You did not take advantage of me. I knew from the moment you offered to show me how to make a shot at the billiards table that I was playing with fire.”

“Laura, I risked your reputation.”

“No,
I
risked my reputation. I could have said no at any point, and I didn’t because I wanted you to kiss me. If anyone had discovered us, I would have no one to blame but myself. We are both adults, and we both must take responsibility for our actions.”

He shook his head. “I cannot allow you to take any of the blame. I am the one with all of the experience—”

“You will not take over this time,” she said, her voice vehement. “From the beginning, you have taken the reins and tried to assert your authority. I am grateful to you for your help with my son, but I am not helpless.”

“I’m accustomed to taking charge. I’ve been managing properties and servants for years. It is ingrained in me.”

She stood and naturally he came to his feet. “You have no idea what I have had to manage on my own,” she said. “Who do you think took care of my ailing husband? I did, because I knew that I could provide better for him. Who do you think has been managing the servants and making decisions at Hollwood Abbey? It certainly isn’t Montclief.”

Bell stared. “You’re jesting.”

“Is it so difficult for you to believe that a woman has the intelligence and ability to do both?”

He stared at her. “I never considered the possibility. After all, it’s customary for gentlemen to manage all aspects of property. Women are in charge of domestic affairs.”

“Well, you see standing before you a woman who managed both out of necessity. I daresay you cannot claim as much.”

“I let the servants take care of domestic matters,” he said. “We are straying from the topic.”

“I think you had better leave before I say something I regret.”

“What have I done wrong now? I tried to apologize, but you wouldn’t let me.”

“It has been an interesting evening, my lord.”

“Laura, you will not cut me off. I’m sorry for underestimating you. I had the best of intentions, but I suppose I have been a little overbearing at times.”

“A little?” she huffed. “It’s my own fault. I relied too much on you because I was afraid of losing my son.”

“It’s not wrong to accept help.”

“I appreciate your assistance with my son, but I’ve been taking care of others since I was a child.”

“I know,” he said. “You’re a good mother, Laura.”

She met his gaze. “You knew how to manage Justin.”

He frowned but said nothing.

“You learned this from someone.”

The
tick-tick
of the clock sounded loud. “My father,” he said.

She lifted up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I think he would be proud of you.”

He tightened his jaw. “I’ve kept you too long. Good night.”

She donned her nightgown and slid beneath the covers, but sleep evaded her. Earlier, she’d been so angry with him. He wanted to take all of the blame as if she were too mindless to know exactly what was transpiring in the billiards room. He’d spoken to her as if she couldn’t manage on her own, but she’d set him straight.

He truly hadn’t understood that his treatment demeaned her. She had accepted his help, but he’d taken over one too many times. Perhaps it was some chivalrous instinct on his part, but tonight he’d carried it too far.

Then somehow their discussion had taken a sharp turn. The haunted look in Bell’s eyes still troubled her. She wondered what it had cost him to utter those two words.
My father.

Lady Atherton had said he’d left England to journey on the Continent and had returned a completely changed man. He purportedly had ice in his veins, she’d said. Laura suspected he hid the wounds behind a cynical veneer.

He’d lost his family, but she knew no other details. Quite possibly no one knew the circumstances, with the possible exception of the friend who had traveled with him to the Continent.

Tonight she’d seen the magnificent town house that had belonged to more than one generation of his family and wondered how he could turn his back on all of it. Surely he must believe his father would have wanted him to carry on the family legacy.

Something niggled at her brain. He refused to marry, even though all of his properties would revert to the Crown when he died. But there could be no entail if he had no one to inherit. He could sell them. Yet he had held on to everything he’d inherited.

Was it because they were all that he had left of his family?

Under the circumstances, it was illogical not to sell, but emotions were illogical.

Grief could tear one’s heart to pieces. She remembered sitting by Phillip’s side and begging God to let him stay with her just a little longer, even though her dear husband was suffering. After he’d passed, she’d felt guilty, but her father had told her that bargaining was a common reaction to the impending loss of a loved one.

Her family had sustained her during those first difficult weeks when she’d wept after finding the watch that Phillip had misplaced. Often, she’d broken down over mundane items like a comb. But Justin had needed her, and that had helped her to put one foot in front of the other. The worst of the pain had subsided little by little.

She suspected that Bellingham had never mourned, and she knew firsthand the importance of grieving.

He had likely erected barriers to shut the past out and keep the pain at bay. She could not be sure of anything, other than he’d suffered a great shock early in life. He needed her, but how could she reach him?

Part of her wanted to shy away from asking him about his family. He would likely grow angry and refuse to speak of the tragedy. But tonight he’d opened up just a little. She must not let fear deter her. He was her friend, and she cared about him. More than a little.

B
ell was nursing a brandy and a bad mood. Laura had felt sorry for him last night. He didn’t want her pity. God knew he’d heard enough of that when he’d returned to England last year. Women, young and old, had come up to him with sorrowful expressions and uttered platitudes.
Time heals all wounds. Your family is in a better place. It was God’s will.
He’d never responded; he’d just walked away.

Most especially, he didn’t like it when others expressed lurid curiosity about his family’s death and his decision to leave England for four years.

Last night, Laura had kissed his cheek and said his father would be proud of him. Her presumption had angered him, and when he’d arrived home, he’d wanted to smash something. She of all people ought to know better than to resort to clichés in answer to insensible death.

He picked up his glass and frowned at the amber-colored brandy. Deep down, he knew Laura hadn’t tossed off that phrase thoughtlessly. He’d gotten his back up because he hated any kind of weakness in himself, especially the nightmares. He had to be strong both physically and mentally. And always in control.

The waiter arrived and topped up his glass. Bell downed the brandy in two swallows.

“The devil,” he muttered just as Harry and Colin took chairs at his table.

Harry frowned. “What did you say?”

“I cursed,” Bell said, and topped up his glass again.

“Oh, no,” Colin said. “Look at him. He’s sickening from love.”

“You mean lust,” Harry said, “for the widow.”

“Of course it’s the widow,” Colin said. “She’s pretty and sweet.”

“I’m not sickening from love.”

“They must’ve had a lover’s quarrel last night,” Harry said. “Don’t worry, old boy. The making up is the best part, right?”

Bell tossed down his brandy and burned his throat in the process. He cleared his throat twice. “I am not sickening.” He’d thought she was different, but he’d seen the look in her eyes. She wanted to fix him. By God, he didn’t want her to coddle him. He didn’t want her to kiss his cheek. And he damned sure didn’t want her to console him.

The waiter stopped and topped up his brandy again. He swallowed a mouthful and looked at his friends. Something was wrong. He looked at Harry’s and Colin’s faces. “You’re silent,” Bell said.

“We are gaping at you,” Harry said.

“Why?” Bell asked.

“Because you are heartbroken,” Colin said.

“I don’t have a heart to break.”

“Of course you do or you would be dead,” Harry said.

Bell scowled. “Do you have to be so literal?”

Colin stiffened.

“What is wrong now?” Bell said.

“Nothing,” Colin said.

“Right, everything is perfectly fine,” Harry said. “Your heart is not broken.”

“Why are you acting stranger than usual?” Bell asked.

“I think you’d better tell him,” Colin said.

“Me? No, you tell him,” Harry said.

“Tell me what?” Bell said.

“It’s about your rival,” Colin said.

“I have no rival,” Bell said.

“The one with the bald spot,” Harry said.

“Pembroke,” Colin added. “He’s crowing over having called upon Lady Chesfield earlier today.”

“Hah! She probably told her butler to say she was away from home,” Bell said.

Harry and Colin looked at each other.

“You tell him,” Colin said.

“No, it’s your turn,” Harry said.

“I distinctly recall telling him the last time,” Colin said.

Bell banged his fist on the table. “Spill it.”

“She received Lady Atherton,” Harry said.

“So? They are friends.”

“And Pembroke,” Colin said. “You have a rival for Lady Chesfield’s affections.”

“No need to worry,” Harry said. “She’ll choose you over Baldy.”

“She doesn’t want a suitor—or a husband.” He drained the remainder of his brandy.

“Tell that to Pembroke,” Colin said.

Bell scowled. “Why? She doesn’t want him.”

“No, I meant Pembroke is coming this way.”

Bell looked over his shoulder.

Pembroke strutted to their table. “Bellingham, I heard your carriage was seen at Lady Chesfield’s residence last evening.”

Bell covered a yawn.

“I thought you ought to know that I expressed my concern to the lady when I called upon her today. She reassured me that you merely conveyed her and her son home in your carriage.”

“Are you done?” Bell asked.

“No, I am not,” he said. “I informed Lady Chesfield of your notorious reputation with women, and she assured me that she is in no danger from you.”

Bell narrowed his eyes at the odd way Pembroke had combed his hair. “Is that a new hairstyle you’re sporting?”

Pembroke’s face reddened. “I’ve no idea what you mean.”

Bell lifted his chin. “I see. You combed a few hairs over the bald spot. Ingenious.”

“You may enjoy insulting me, but she will choose me.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“I wished to give you fair warning. I mean to make her an honorable proposal.”

He snorted at the idea of Laura being affianced to two men at once, although their engagement wasn’t real.

Pembroke tugged on his waistcoat. “You will not laugh when we announce our engagement.”

“You’re bloody sure of yourself,” Bell said, “but let me give you a tip. She doesn’t want a husband.”

“How do you know?”

“She told me.”

“Hah! You proposed and she declined,” Pembroke said, raising his voice.

A hush fell over the nearby tables. Other men were staring at him.

Bell glared at Pembroke. “I did not propose to her.”

“She wouldn’t have you,” Pembroke said.

Bell stood and loomed over Pembroke. “My ancestors were fiendish marauders. They raided castles, plundered the treasures, and kidnapped the women. Their blood runs through my veins.”

Pembroke lifted his chin, causing his collar point to poke into his cheek. He brushed at it as if it were an insect and said, “Mark my words. She will be my bride.” With that final sally, Pembroke walked off.

Naturally, Lindmoore, better known as Lord Gossip, hurried over. “I heard that you were courting Lady Chesfield.”

“You heard wrong,” he said.

Lindmoore’s eyes gleamed. “Is it true her husband left her a fortune?”

“Stay away from her,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Just asking,” Lindmoore said. “Of course, many will be delighted to know you have not spoken for her.”

The voices in the room dwindled in volume. Every male in the place was listening.

Damnation. He’d better warn Laura that the wolves were about to descend.

The next day, Laura attended Lady Atherton’s at-home. She made the acquaintance of several ladies, and while she was glad for the introductions, Laura felt somewhat on display as the other ladies gave her piercing looks. Many of them spoke of people and events that she had no knowledge about, but she listened politely. One lady interested her, George’s mother, and so she made a point of taking the empty chair next to her. “Lady Rentworth, I’m so glad to finally meet you. Our boys are friends.”

Lady Rentworth’s brows creased. “How interesting.”

She’d spoken in a bored tone, making her meaning quite the opposite.

Laura tried again. “George has called for my son in the past, but we have not seen him lately.”

“Well, he’s somewhere.”

Lady Rentworth’s friends shook out their fans and exchanged amused glances. Laura maintained her composure, because she didn’t want others, especially Lady Atherton, to know that Lady Rentworth and her friends had mocked her.

Doubtless they had formed an opinion before ever meeting her. They would have discovered her past and looked down their patrician noses, because despite her title, she was not one of them. Laura told herself she didn’t care, but it was easier to deal with in the abstract as opposed to the reality. Unfortunately, Lady Atherton had asked her to stay afterward so that they could talk, and now Laura regretted having agreed.

All she wanted was to leave this drawing room and these haughty women. She wanted to go home to Hampshire and take gifts to her brothers and sisters. She wanted to walk through the garden and cut flowers for the drawing room. Most of all, she wished she could turn back time and spend an afternoon with Phillip.

But there was no use wishing for things that could never be. She ought to count her blessings instead. She had a wonderful, large family and her son, all of whom she loved. Laura smiled at Lady Atherton and was very grateful for her friendship. Lady Atherton’s many letters had helped sustain the link to Phillip, something that grew increasingly important to Laura over the years. In some ways, it seemed as if only a year had gone by since his death, and other times it seemed an age since he’d passed. Despite his illness, he’d been a wonderful husband, and her only regret was that they’d not had more time together.

When the last caller departed, Lady Atherton rang for a tea tray. “These at-homes are so hectic,” she said. “Everyone is determined to hear or spread the latest tittle-tattle. Did you hear anything interesting?”

“No,” she said, lowering her eyes.

“I noted your discomfort while speaking to Lady Rentworth earlier,” Lady Atherton said.

Laura cleared her throat. “I mentioned that our sons were friends but that we had not seen George recently.”

“What did she say to that?”

“She said he’s somewhere.”

Lady Atherton waved her hand. “She has the mothering instincts of a stray cat. If you ask my opinion, there are far too many aristocratic parents who fob off their children to nurses and live as if their offspring do not even exist. It’s really quite horrid.” Lady Atherton paused. “But you are genuinely overset by your brief conversation with her.”

She explained the way that Justin had learned about George’s defection.

Lady Atherton’s eyes widened. “You called at Lord Bellingham’s town house.”

Laura’s face heated as she told Lady Atherton the circumstances. “Perhaps I should not have gone, but he persuaded me.”

The maid entered with the tea tray. Lady Atherton poured and handed a dish to Laura. “He was very persuasive, was he?” Lady Atherton said.

“Oh, yes.”

“Do tell,” Lady Atherton said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

“Of course you do,” she said.

“There can never be anything more than friendship between us.” She would not reveal what had happened in the billiards room.

“Really? A platonic friendship. How intriguing.” Lady Atherton gave her a sly smile. “Most women would jump at the chance to join him in the boudoir.”

“I’m not most women,” Laura said.

“No, you are not, and that is precisely why he is attracted to you.”

“I will not shame myself or my family for a fleeting liaison. And I most certainly will not disgrace Phillip’s memory.”

“Excuse me a moment,” Lady Atherton said.

Laura watched her cross over to the sideboard, where she poured some type of liquor into two glasses. When she returned to the sofa, Lady Atherton handed a glass to Laura. “When I was younger, I would not have dreamed of taking a glass of sherry in the afternoon. But as the years went on, I realized that all of my regrets were for opportunities that I did not take. In fact, when I was a mere girl, I almost succumbed to my parents’ pressure to marry a marquis. Of course, he was much older, and it would have proven to be a brilliant match in the eyes of society. But I was in love with Alfred. At the time, he was a younger son with no prospects. I took a chance and waited for him. As it turned out, he did inherit an earldom.”

“You must have been very much in love,” Laura said.

“The point of my story is this: Do not allow rules to hem you in. You only get one turn in life. Make the most of it.”

“Thank you for the advice,” Laura said.

Lady Atherton regarded her intently. “You could do far worse than Bellingham.”

“I do not seek better, Lady Atherton.”

“What would tempt you? True love?”

“I assure you the earl is not offering that.”

“A clever woman knows how to lead a man to the altar.”

“He is not the sort of man who will allow anyone to lead him.”

“Drink your sherry,” Lady Atherton said. “And if you’re smart, you’ll let Bellingham catch you.”

Laura had let that happen twice, and she saw nothing smart about it at all.

Two hours later, Laura was replying to a letter from Rachel when a light tap sounded at the door. “Come in,” she said.

“Lord Bellingham wishes to call on you, my lady.”

“Very well. Show him up.”

After Reed left, she hurried over to the mirror and pinched her cheeks. The curls by her ears were a bit limp, but there was no help for that now. She told herself that she would check her appearance when anyone called, but he was not just anyone. He was her friend.

She smoothed her skirts and wondered why he’d called. After her conversation with Lady Atherton, Laura had grown increasingly curious about his family. Since they were friends, she ought to feel free to ask about his life. He certainly had inquired about hers. But his situation was complicated, and she knew from her years nursing Phillip that men disliked showing any sort of vulnerability. She must be patient and wait for a natural opportunity to broach the topic.

A knock sounded and Bell walked inside. “I told Reed not to bother since I know my way upstairs.”

She curtsied. “Please, take a seat. I’ll ring for a tea tray.”

“Don’t trouble the servants. I won’t stay long.” He joined her on the sofa and cleared his throat. “Where is Justin?”

“Upstairs, writing a letter to his grandparents.”

“You made him write the letter?”

“He wouldn’t think of it unless I reminded him,” she said.

“I understand that Pembroke called on you.”

She blinked. “Yes, two days ago. Lady Atherton was here as well. Why do you ask?”

Bell drew in a breath. “He announced at White’s in a rather conspicuous fashion that he meant to propose to you.”

“What?” She placed her hand over her heart. “I am stunned. Why would he make a spectacle of himself? I’ve only met him twice before. How dare he bandy my name around in conjunction with his own?” When she rose, he did as well. Laura started pacing. “Oh, this is mortifying. He has made me the center of attention in your club.” She fisted her hands. “I will blister his ears if he ever comes near me again.”