What a Wicked Earl Wants (26 page)

Her lips parted a little. She twitched once, and he thought she looked a little vulnerable.

“I worried her vexation is making her ill,” Lady Atherton said.

The idea that she might be sick made his chest tighten. “We will stay at the inn an extra night if she requires more rest,” he said.

“Reassure her that all will turn out well,” Lady Atherton said. “Remind her that you will not let anything happen to her son.”

He nodded.

“She has had to be strong for a very long time,” Lady Atherton said. “I’m glad you were there that day Montclief berated her for taking Justin to London.”

“So am I,” he said.

Laura awoke with a start.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Lady Atherton is sleeping?”

“Yes. You must tell me if you are feeling unwell.”

“Truly, I will be fine. I think all the worrying caught up with me.”

“Let me do the worrying,” he said.

“I depend on you too much.”

“There is nothing wrong with depending on me.”

“I cannot become accustomed to it, because we will soon part ways.”

“You may depend upon me during this journey and at my estate.”

She covered a yawn. “You step in and take over everything. I suppose you are a natural ruler, due to the blood passed down to you from your marauding ancestors.”

“I am an earl. I am supposed to rule over everyone in my domain.”

“Did you ever wish that you were not the earl and had to rule?”

“I didn’t for four years,” he said. “I hired men to do it. I had no intention of returning.”

She looked up at him. “Why did you return?”

“My friend Will was called home for his brother’s wedding. We thought to travel back to the Continent afterward, but Will was unable to return for financial reasons. And then he married.”

“Did he intend to be a lifelong bachelor, too?” she asked.

“He did not plan to marry, but he was caught in a compromising situation.”

“Oh, dear, that must have been difficult for them.”

“Despite the circumstances, they are happy and expecting a child in the summer.” He paused and added, “Another one of my friends recently married as well.”

“Do you visit them?”

“Not yet. I try to avoid situations where the hostess decides I must be in need of a wife.”

“Do you ever think about what it would be like to have a wife?”

His chest tightened. He’d thought about what it would be like to lose a wife.

She cupped his cheek. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You don’t want to know.”

She hesitated. “Is it the bad memories of your past?”

“No.” He paused and said, “The good ones.”

She laid her head against his heart. “I understand. After Phillip died, I would encounter some mundane object such as a shaving brush or a comb. It was strange that such things made me weep more than the many letters of condolences.”

He placed his hand over her hair and said nothing more. The one admission was more than he’d ever revealed to anyone, except to his friend Will. Laura understood that much because she had lost her husband. But there was more than grief in his case. There was guilt.

After a long, slow journey, Bell was eager to escape the carriage and stretch his legs. A porter appeared, and Bell doled out generous vales in order to hurry things along. They went to the dining parlor and dined on roasted chicken, potatoes, and cauliflower. It was adequate for an inn.

While a maid showed the ladies upstairs, Bell waited in the dining parlor and drank a tankard of ale. When he finished it, he went upstairs. He hoped to sleep undisturbed tonight.

Lady Atherton poked her head out of the room. Her hair was tied in rags. “I told the maid to bang on my door in the morning. I have been known to sleep through thunderstorms. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I am dead to the world.”

He frowned, wondering why she felt it necessary to inform him of her sleeping habits.

“Sweet slumbers,” she said, and let a maid out. The maid crossed over to Laura’s room.

Bell went to his room and removed his coat and cravat. Several minutes later, a door creaked open. He looked out, startling Laura, who opened her door to let out the maid. The maid hurried down the stairs.

“Is something wrong?” Laura asked, clutching a wrapper to her throat.

“No, but Lady Atherton warned me she can sleep through thunderstorms. Why didn’t she just inform the maid?”

“Shhhh,” Laura said. “She might hear you.”

“Good night,” he said.

Laura closed her door and he went inside his room. He removed his coat, waistcoat, and cravat. Then he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots and stockings. He walked to the basin and splashed water on his face. Gad, his heavy beard made him look like a pirate.

He started to unbutton his trousers when he heard footsteps on the stairs.

Bell opened his door at the same time as Laura. A different maid juggled towels in one arm and knocked on Lady Atherton’s room. When there was no answer, she turned, took one look at Bell’s bare chest, and fled to the stairs.

He laughed and stepped out into the corridor.

“Shhh,” Laura said. “We don’t want to wake Lady Atherton.”

“I don’t hear any snores,” he said.

“Keep your voice down. You might awaken other travelers.”

“With all that racket out in the inn yard it hardly makes a difference.”

A voice sounded from the stairs. “I tell you, there’s a half-naked man in the corridor.”

“Alice, you got windmills in your head,” a woman said.

“I tell you, I seen him with me own eyes. Knock on his door. You’ll see.”

Laura motioned him with her hand. He shut his door and stepped into her room.

She shut the door behind him and put her finger to her lips.

Footsteps thudded down the corridor. A knock sounded on Bell’s door.

“I don’t hear anything,” a woman said.

“Open the door,” Alice said.

“And get sacked for stealin’? Are you mad?”

“He could be ravishing the womenfolk,” Alice said.

Laura clapped her hand over her mouth. His shoulders shook with laughter.

Their voices and footsteps faded away.

Laura clutched him. “H-he c-could b-be ravishing the w-womenfolk.”

He bent her backward. “Aha, my pretty. Be prepared to be ravished.”

“Help, help,” she said weakly.

He pulled her upright. “Lord, what a caper.”

She pressed a hand to her chest. Belatedly, he realized she wore only a shift. He looked at her breasts and could see her nipples through the thin fabric. His groin tightened. “You are probably tired,” he said.

“I’m wide awake,” she said. “I slept too long in the carriage, but I’m sure you’re tired and wish to go to bed.”

“I’m wide awake, too.”
And getting hot all over.

“Perhaps a glass of wine would help us relax.”

“It will be poor quality and undrinkable, but I brought a flask with brandy.”

“Perhaps we could talk awhile until we are both sleepy.”

“I will bring the brandy. You can drink a bit. It will relax both of us.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” she said.

He lit a candle and nudged the door open. Seeing no other travelers, he eased Laura’s door closed and stepped into his room. He grabbed the flask and eased the door open again. He felt like a schoolboy sneaking into her room, but he really didn’t want to drink alone.

“We have no glasses, so you will have to lower yourself to drinking straight from the flask.”

She grinned and patted the bed. “I figure you don’t want to sit on a hard chair.”

“You figured right,” he said. His eyes lowered to the display of her breasts above her shift. Heat traveled to his cock, and he was breathing faster. He bit back the urge to tell her how much he liked what he’d seen and touched. “Have you ever tasted brandy?”

“No, I imagine it is strong.”

“Yes, it is. Take a tiny sip and don’t cough.”

She sniffed it and reared back. “No thank you.”

He took the flask and sipped. Then he set it aside.

“Tell me about Thornhill Park,” she said.

“It is a huge property, more than a thousand acres.” He pictured the circular drive and the formal landscaping. “A landscape artist proposed transforming the formal gardens into the latest fashion for wilderness. I refused.”

“You wanted to maintain it as you remembered it from boyhood.”

He sipped the brandy. “The cliffs are magnificent.” He pictured the jutting rock and the crashing sea below.

“Tell me about them,” she said.

He hadn’t gone to the cliffs since returning to England, but it all came rushing back. The bizarre rock formations, the cry of birds, and the constant roar of the sea. “When I was a boy, I climbed one by myself.”

“Your parents must have worried.”

In his mind, he heard the crashing waves and saw himself staring below at the swirling sea. He recalled feeling dizzy by the height.

“What happened?” she asked.

The memory was like a dream. He remembered strong arms snatching him up and a hoarse voice.
My God, oh my God
.

“My father.” He hadn’t meant to speak the words.

“He found you?” she asked.

He’d forgotten or shoved it back into the dark recesses of his mind. Now the memory flooded his brain. “His arms were shaking.”

His father had held him so tightly that it hurt.

“You might have been injured,” she said. “Or killed in a fall.”

He flinched and sought a little oblivion in the brandy decanter. His father had probably saved his life that day, but years later, he had not been there in his father’s final hour. He’d not been there to say good-bye to his mother and brother. His jaw clenched. He’d been too late.

She took his hand. Her palm was soft and warm. “Did your father punish you?”

He shook his head.

“You don’t remember?”

“I woke in the night. My father was asleep in a chair next to my bed.”

“He needed to be near you,” she said. “I imagine he forbade you to go there ever again.”

“He took me to the cliffs the next day. My father pointed out the dangerous places and said he would take me there so that…” Something hot rushed up his throat. He gritted his teeth.

She looked at him. “So that…”

He whipped his face away.

“Tell me,” she whispered.

He leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. “He didn’t want my mother to worry.”

“Did he tell your mother?”

“I don’t know.”

“It was smart of your father to take you,” she said. “He was a wise man.”

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“He used to say the cliffs were shaped from the hand of God.” He huffed. “I believed it.”

She was silent at first. “You don’t believe in miracles?”

“I believe in what I can see, hear, smell, and touch.”

“When my sister Rachel’s first child was born, I thought it a miracle.”

He thought about the hundreds of children born in squalor, but he knew her beliefs and bit back his cynicism.

She turned his palm up and traced one of the lines. “You managed Justin so well from the beginning. I knew you must have learned from your father.”

He said nothing. He couldn’t.

“Your friends married. Did you ever think about what it would be like to marry?”

“Briefly, after my friend Fordham’s wedding.” He’d felt adrift and isolated. His friends had moved on with their lives. Damn it, he missed them.

“You will give up your family’s legacy?”

His jaw tightened. “I won’t be here to care.”

“That’s not a reason,” she said.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I realized something,” she said. “There’s no entail, is there?”

“There’s no one to inherit.” He scowled. “What is your point?”

“You mean to let it revert to the Crown.”

“It’s none of your affair,” he said.

“If you really don’t care what happens to the property, why not sell it now?”

He got off the bed. “How dare you poke into my affairs?”

“You’ve poked into mine, and you’re not angry at me.”

“Oh, yes, I am.”

“You’re angry because you lost your family,” she said.

“No, I’m angry at your presumption. This is the reason I never speak of the past.”

“I know how you feel. I walked around in disbelief after Phillip’s funeral, even though I’d known it was coming. A month after Phillip passed, I went into his room and discovered that the valet had disposed of Phillip’s shaving brush. I was so angry. It made no sense.”

He was breathing harder. “I know it doesn’t make sense to you. You think you know me, but you don’t. I have my reasons for my decisions. I know what I’m capable of and what I’m not. There will never be a little family. There will never be an heir of my body. There will never be another Lady Bellingham.”

“I think you had better leave,” she said.

He raked his hand through his hair. “I never misled you, Laura.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

He met her gaze. “The handkerchief.”

Humiliation burned her chest. “It was my way of thanking you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I had a duty, given what transpired.”

She bit her lip, because the last thing she wanted to hear was that he thought of her and Justin as his duty.

“Good night,” he said.

When he shut the door, her face crumpled. She’d known all along that there was no future for them. And still she’d held out hope. Tonight he’d opened up a bit of his past to her, and she’d believed that she could help him heal. But he didn’t want to be healed.

She’d known all along that even if he could give her the moon, the stars, and his heart, she would be unable to give him children.

She’d known for weeks now that she’d developed tender feelings for him, and she’d allowed them to grow. She loved him, but he didn’t love her. He wanted only friendship, and now she wasn’t even sure that could exist between them after this night.

With a heavy heart, she walked to the bed and frowned. She reached beneath the bed for the chamber pot, realizing her back ached and her breasts were a little sore. Now, of all times, her irregular cycle would have to come. Oh, this would be a humiliating experience. She prayed she was wrong.