Only an Earl Will Do (12 page)

Elizabeth swallowed, choosing her words with care. “After we received the letter we thought was from you, Father became concerned for my welfare. I was a little low in spirits, you see. He was friends with Lord Newland, and we were invited to stay at their country house for two weeks. Marcus, Lord Newland’s son, was kind and attentive, and we became friends.”

“You did not love him?”

She kept her gaze between Argo’s ears, not confident enough to meet his gaze, which she could feel burning into the side of her face. “It wasn’t that kind of love, but he was a kind man. We talked a lot during those two weeks I first came to stay there, and we became close. He offered marriage, and I accepted. He passed away in his sleep over twelve months later. The physician thought the injury he originally suffered falling from his horse may have triggered a bleed in his brain of some kind, but we will never really know for sure.”

“I’m sorry, lass, for everything, but also for your loss. He sounds like he was a good man. May I ask how long ye were actually married?”

She nodded. “He was the best of men, and we were married almost two years give or take a couple of months.” And Marcus had saved her, from the moment he caught her being sick behind a maze, he’d guessed her plight. Instead of shunning her, outing her disgrace and sending her packing, he’d offered her marriage, had offered her unborn child the protection of a name. And it had been an equal trade, since Newland himself had stated no one would look at him since his fall, which had injured his mind. “He deserved better than me.”

She felt the touch of Henry’s hand on hers, but she couldn’t look at him. Shame washed over her along with anger. Should Henry find out the secret she still kept from him, it would devastate and break his heart, but to tell Henry of Samuel’s existence would not do her child any favors, either. Henry could not claim Samuel, no matter how much he may wish to. And despite telling Marcus the truth, her deceased husband had loved the little boy beyond measure. By telling another of his true heritage, it seemed the ultimate betrayal to a man who had saved her from ruin.

She could not do it.

“There is not much that is better than you, lass.”

Elizabeth smiled, meeting his gaze. “You’re a flatterer, Henry. I see that has not changed since you left.”

“Ye’re easy to flatter.”

A strong gust of wind threatened her hat, and she reached up, clasping the rim. “I think we should leave. The heavens are about to open, I suspect.” She cursed the weather having shortened their time. “I thought I might ride out to Richmond Park tomorrow and sketch the more natural landscape there. Would you care to join me?”

Henry nodded. “If the weather permits, I’d like that. What time would ye like me to meet ye at Richmond?”

“Eleven? Would that be suitable?”

“More than suitable.” Henry looked up at the gathering clouds just as a lone droplet of rain hit her cheek, followed by a rumble of thunder.

“I had better leave. Isolde will be worried with the storm coming in.” She turned her horse and started toward her groom. “Tomorrow then?” She threw the question over her shoulder, smiling at finding Henry’s gaze locked on her.

“Tomorrow, my lady.”

Elizabeth turned and rode off, marveling at the way Henry was able to make the words
my lady
seem like a statement of intent instead of the salutation it was meant to be.

Flirt indeed.

…

The storm ravaged London; branches scattered through the streets, leaves and litter lay everywhere the eye could see. Elizabeth stood at the front drawing room window and noted the time. It was still early enough to cancel, but something stopped her from sending a missive to Henry.

She had to admit, she didn’t want to abandon their outing. The impromptu idea to visit Richmond and invite Henry was too good an opportunity to abandon. Wet grass was a poor excuse to miss a few hours in his company, and the wind had settled to a slight breeze, in any case.

She sent a note to the stable and notified her groom to be ready within the hour and then headed upstairs to change into her riding habit.

Richmond Park was abandoned when she arrived. Sitting on a wooden bench, she breathed deeply the freshness of the earth after the heavy rains. Birds pecked at the ground, hoping to find a juicy worm or two, and it wasn’t long before the echo of horse hooves pounding the damp earth sounded behind her like the drums of an approaching army.

Within moments, Henry cantered into the clearing. She pushed aside the excited whir that stirred her body at the sight of him. With his hat clasped in his hand, his shoulder-length hair again looked disheveled and unruly, much like the man.

The horse skidded to a stop before her, and she smiled at the mirth and vitality she read in Henry’s gaze. Elizabeth reminded herself yet again they were friends and nothing more. No, nothing, nothing more. “Good morning, Henry. Lovely day, is it not?”

He laughed, dismounting. “It’s all the better for seeing you again, lass.” He sat beside her, his grin infectious. “Ye survived the weather last night?” he asked, looking up at the sky as if it would open up once more and drench them. “I hadn’t thought we would for a time.”

Elizabeth smiled. “We did, thank you.” She paused, looking out over the park. “Walk with me.”

“Of course.” They stood and followed a line of trees that sat beside a grassy meadow. Henry clasped her hand and placed it through the crook of his arm. She swallowed as with each step she could feel the muscles in his arm flex, just the slightest movement that left her breathless.

“Last night, after everyone was abed, I realized that of all the years we’ve known each other, I’m not at all familiar about your home in Scotland. Will you tell me about it?”

Henry shut his eyes, a wistful smile on his lips. “’Tis beautiful. The castle has been in my family for six hundred years. It resides at the base of the highlands, where the mist can obscure it from view as if it were never there. The smell of heather meets your senses every morning. The loch, not far from the house, is as blue as the sky. My grandfather nearly lost it all due to gambling and living beyond his means in England. My father inherited an estate on the edge of bankruptcy. When he passed away and I became earl, I realized I only had a few years left to turn the family’s fortune around before we lost it all.”

Elizabeth nodded and watched a squirrel try to carry a walnut up a tree and realized, in a way, it was what Henry was trying to achieve—security for his family and home in the highlands. Of course he loved his home as much as she loved Dunsleigh. Should crippling debt ever threaten her family’s estate, Elizabeth knew her brother would do anything in his power to keep Dunsleigh theirs. “Why did you not tell me of this before you left England? I mean, we knew you were in need of funds, but we never assumed it was as bad as that.”

“Pride, I guess. Few out of the family knew of the predicament I faced. I never even told ye father all of my woes, as I knew he’d try to help me.”

Elizabeth hugged him closer to her as they strolled. “Father would’ve tried to help.” She smiled at the memory of his kind heart. “And rightfully so, he was your guardian, after all.”

“Aye, I know, but I wanted to earn my fortune back, and thanks to some hard work and sound investments I’ve achieved that goal before it was too late.”

Elizabeth looked up at him. “I know your return to London was a little turbulent with me, but I’m proud of you, Henry, and you should be proud of yourself as well.”

His gaze captured hers, and again awareness shimmered between them, wrapped about her like a cloak, and dug up a need that she’d long thought buried.

“I am proud and, above all else, relieved I’ll not be the earl who lost the estate.” He pulled them to a stop, turning her to face him. “I know we’ve not spoken of this for some time, but surly ye must know that my feelings toward you are unchanged, have never altered, in truth.”

“Henry.” She sighed. “I’m not looking to marry again.”

“I worked for three years, harder than I’ve ever worked in my life, and with the sole hope that when I returned we would wed, as we planned. I still wish that, above everything else.”

She couldn’t reply; to crush his dreams seemed too cruel a blow. And she didn’t want to face the cold hard truth that Henry’s dreams were still what she desired as well. To give voice to such a truth could never be locked away again. It had taken all her strength to wrestle her heart into a box, and that was where it would stay.

“When I first arrived at Dunsleigh I know I took delight in teasing you mercilessly. You were a lass easy to annoy.” He chuckled. “But after a time we became the best of friends, and when of age I knew what I had to do to ensure I won ye.”

Tears smarted in her eyes, and she blinked to clear her vision. How she wanted him to stop, to not say another word, but at the same time she wanted him to keep saying these wonderful things, declarations that filled her with an emotion she’d not thought to ever feel again.

“I fell in love with ye, lass. I still love ye.”

Elizabeth stopped breathing, her gaze riveted on the ground at her feet lest she topple over. Henry had always been honest to a fault and, it seemed, he still was.

“You shouldn’t say such things,” she whispered.

“I want to show ye my home. I want ye to be the woman who wishes me good mornin’ and good night every day. I want ye and no one else.” His eyes beseeched her to agree, to step once more into the abyss of the unknown and take a chance. “I don’t want to be just ye friend, lass. I want all of ye. I always have.”

The longing in Henry’s voice tumbled the fortress she’d erected around her heart. “This is madness,” she said, her heart thumping hard against her ribs. Tears spilled over her cheeks, and he wiped them away.

“We will deal with Riddledale and his threats, I promise ye, but let me court ye, let me show ye once more I’m trustworthy and capable of keeping ye heart safe.”

He stepped close enough that she became aware of his scent, of sandalwood mixed with something that was just him, intoxicating and safe. The scent pulled her into the past, of stolen kisses and wicked words.
This was madness, but what a delicious madness it was
. “Henry, so much has happened. So many things are different since you went away. I don’t want to hurt you again.” And if he found out about their son, hurt would be the least emotion he would feel. She was walking a fine line that could break at any moment.

He picked up her hand and kissed her fingers. A sharp bolt of desire coursed through her blood, and her heart tumbled for the Scot once again.

“You will not. ’Tis impossible for ye to do so.”

Elizabeth swallowed the guilt that rose within her at his words.

If only that were true.

Chapter Eleven

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder onto Bond Street as a pricking of unease slithered down her neck. She watched the busy crowd of shoppers but couldn’t see anything to raise her suspicion. And yet, for some absurd reason, the notion that someone was watching her, following her, would not dissipate.

She came to the door to Hatchards, her favorite bookseller, and motioned for Tippy, her maid, to follow her inside. Elizabeth breathed deep the delightful smell of leather and paper as she walked toward the nearest window. Looking outside, she took in the street and noted a large man wearing laborer type pants and a grimy linen shirt leaning against a wall across the way. Such a gentleman wouldn’t normally catch her attention, but that his consideration was fixed on Hatchards—not an establishment he looked to visit often—was odd.

“Tippy, do you know who the man across the street is by any chance? The big one, leaning against the milliner shop.”

Tippy leaned past Elizabeth and looked to where she pointed. “No, my lady. I’ve never seen him before.” She turned back to her expectantly. “Should I know him?”

Elizabeth bit her lip and frowned. “No. I don’t believe you should. I just wondered, that’s all.”

Tippy went to pick some books of her own to read, while Elizabeth stayed at the window and watched the burly fellow. He seemed content to stay where he was, but why a man who looked more suited to the bowels of London would be interested in a bookshop was strange. Just as strange as the notion the same man was possibly following her.

With a resigned sigh, Elizabeth went about looking for something to read.

A little while later, pleased with her assortment of books, she stepped from the shop, pulling on her gloves with a false air of calm. Her body, on the other hand, was coiled tight with nerves. Within her peripheral vision, the man leaned away from the wall and made a show of looking about the street. Maybe he
was
following her, but why?

Elizabeth looked over at him and took in his every detail. She studied, with blatant curiosity, his features and dress. If he were following her, Henry and Josh would question her about him, and she needed to remember what she saw.

The man, not expecting her to pick him out of all the people on the street, shuffled about and then took off down a lane between the stores. Elizabeth marked the direction he went and watched him until he was out of sight.

She headed for the family carriage parked a little away, wondering who would need to spy on her. Not that he was a competent spy, in any case, but it was absurd. She’d certainly never done anything to warrant such attention. She stopped at the thought, and her maid let out a little yelp at having nearly run into her. Unless Lord Riddledale had taken it upon himself to keep tabs on her every move. It was not without warrant, and she certainly wouldn’t put it past the unrelenting gentleman to act so high-handed.

The man’s audacity had gone quite far enough.

Upon arriving home, Elizabeth found a letter waiting for her. The unease that pricked at her earlier jabbed her innards. The writing wasn’t from anyone she knew, and there was no forwarding address. She walked to the library and shut the door. After ordering some afternoon refreshment, she sat and broke the seal. Somehow she knew she would need the tea and its calming remedies upon reading the note.

She was not wrong.

My dearest Elizabeth,

As you know, my deepest desires are for us to marry and soon. It pains me that you’ve made time for others and not your future husband, but never the one to complain, I have a little titbit that should persuade you to follow my decree.

In light of my inability to wait for you, I have decided to announce our betrothal next week, and should you fight me on this, I will be made to show Henry the letter and the news that it contains of your disgrace and of your child.

It is time, my dear, to let the world know you’re mine. Write me and tell me how much you’re looking forward to being my wife.

Yours always,

R.

Elizabeth tore the note in two and threw it into the fire before realizing what she’d done. She grabbed the poker, hoping she could pull the parchment from the flames, but it was too late, and the fire licked the note to ash before she could stop it.

Slumping back on her haunches, she cursed her temper to Hades. Damn it, she should have kept it. Henry would wish to read anything Lord Riddledale sent her. The thought pulled her up short. She couldn’t show Henry the missive. He would know all her lies, all her disgrace against his person. He would hate her.

No, Josh was due to arrive in London any day, and she would tell him of the missive and see what he could do to stop his lordship from announcing a betrothal that had not, nor ever would, occur.

“What are you doing on the floor?”

Elizabeth whirled toward the door, where Alice stood pulling off her gloves and hat.

Elizabeth stood. “You’re in town? Have you come to stay?”

“Of course. In fact, all of us have come up to London. Mother wished for a little distraction from Dunsleigh. We arrived when you were out at Hatchards. I’ve just been out for a walk.” Alice paused. “What’s the matter?”

Elizabeth swiped at her cheeks as her sister’s comforting arms enfolded her. “I received a letter from Lord Riddledale. He’s going to announce our betrothal next week, and I haven’t even agreed to marry him. He says if I do not, he’ll allow Henry to read Papa’s letter and allow Henry to know of Samuel.”

“Where is Samuel, is he in town?”

“No, he’s at Newland Estate. Why?”

“And I think until all of this is sorted he should stay there.” Alice paused. “Tell me Elizabeth, does Henry know of your son?”

Her sister’s words made her feel ill. “No. I cannot tell him of Samuel or the real reason why I married Newland. He’ll never forgive me.” It didn’t matter who had deceived them—when Henry found out about a child she had kept from him, that he would never have his rightful father’s name…such a scenario wasn’t worth thinking over. It was all a nightmare.

“And you wish to be forgiven by Lord Muir?”

Elizabeth swiped at her cheeks. “I fear I like Henry more than I should. As you know he’s been helping me thwart Riddledale, and the plan should work if luck is on our side, but I cannot tell him the truth. I just cannot.”

Alice rubbed her back, joining her on the floor. “Josh is due in town tomorrow. We shall seek his council and see what he can do.” She paused. “You’re still planning on looking through Riddledale’s office when he holds his sister’s coming-out ball?”

“Yes, that is the plan.”

Her sister nodded. “Even if Josh can only delay his announcement until after the ball, which I’m sure he can be persuasive enough to achieve, it will give you time to get the letter back and be done with this mess.”

Alice pulled her to stand and pushed her toward a nearby settee. “You look as white as a ghost. I hope you’re not fretting over this and are looking after yourself properly.”

Elizabeth thought over her sister’s words, all of which she’d not thought of herself. Maybe she was panicking more than she ought, and therefore not seeing as clearly as she should. “I will try better not to worry over things until they occur.” She patted the cushion beside her, needing to change the subject if only to keep her sanity. “Come, sit, and tell me about Mama. Is she doing better?”

Alice filled her in on their mother’s lifted spirits and what they planned to do while in London. Although balls were still out of the question, other than Riddledale’s, of course, they would attend some private dinner parties and musicals with their closest friends.

Elizabeth welcomed the opportunity of distraction, but her mind churned with impatience for Josh to arrive so he could deal with this latest threat from Riddledale of which Henry could never know—all these lies and secrets, the evading of truth. Even if it was with the best of intentions, or little choice, she wondered if she should not just state the facts, lay her head upon the block, and let the ton do their worst with the executioner’s ax.

…

Elizabeth’s brother leaned over their father’s mahogany desk and played idly with the blue felt blotter. Over the weeks since their father’s death, she had to concede that Josh had matured, eased into the position of duke with grace and forthrightness. Their father would be proud.

“Do you have this letter from Lord Riddledale? I wish to read it.”

Elizabeth shook her head, annoyed at herself again for throwing it into the fire in a fit of temper. “I was so angry I burned it. I’m so sorry, Josh, but what I recited to you is word-for-word what Lord Riddledale wrote.”

Josh stood and strolled over to the liquor cupboard. Again she was reminded that the brother she knew had turned into a duke, a man. His shoulders seemed broader, and so they should be with the weight of the title he now carried. “Why did you not tell me his harassment of you was worsening?” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Now I’m glad Lord Muir bloodied his nose at Whites. The fop deserved a good walloping.”

She nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. “Yes, Henry is quite angry about the situation, but Josh, he does not know exactly what Father wrote in the letter. Should he find out about Samuel…”

Josh swallowed the contents of his drink before pouring another glass. “Which leaves Lord Muir innocent of any crime other than ruining you at Dunsleigh. Do not think for one moment I’ve forgiven him for that.”

“Henry never received the letter, so he doesn’t know I’ve borne a child. And you forget there were two consenting people by the lake that day, brother. I knew what I was doing, and you cannot wholly hold Henry to blame for what occurred.”

“Hell, Elizabeth.” Josh ran a hand through his hair, slumping back into his chair. “If this becomes public knowledge it’ll ruin the family. It’ll ruin your son.”

She nodded, knowing only too well what was at stake. “I know that. Don’t you think it’s all that’s occupied my mind for the last few weeks? Riddledale has been constant in his longing for me, his words have bordered on obscene, and yet all the while I know he knows about my ruin, my child. I don’t want to be blackmailed into marriage.” Elizabeth looked toward the windows and watched the bustling square beyond, the carriages, the people.

“Lord Muir knows more of your concerns than I. Why did you not tell me Riddledale has brought up Samuel’s parentage?”

Elizabeth cringed at the hurt she heard in her brother’s tone. “I should have, but the time never seemed right. Henry returned. Father passed away. Everything’s been such a muddle. I panicked. I’m sorry.”

“Elizabeth, that is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.” He took a deep breath, his nose flaring with distaste. “We’re family. I may be a duke, the head of this household, but you’re my sister, married or no, you are and always will be a priority in my life, and what Riddledale is about is…” He paused. “Well, he ought to be called out, that’s what. I’m surprised Muir didn’t call him out at Whites. It seems he certainly deserved to be.”

“Henry has told me a little about what happened that day.”

“Muir beat him to a pulp, and rightfully so.”

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and bit her lip, wanting to laugh at the image of Riddledale being tackled in Whites. “Yes, I know.”

“Words were seldom, fists were not.” He steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “And now what to do with the marquis. Tell me, what is the latest with this plan you’ve concocted with Muir?”

Elizabeth stood and moved over to the window, watching the traffic travel around the square. She absently played with the velvet drapes while she told Josh of their idea to steal the letter back and therefore remove any notion of blackmail. “He intends to announce our betrothal in the papers next week. You must speak with him soon. If he does such a disastrous thing, well, I’m not sure what we’ll do.”

“I’m meeting Lord Riddledale tonight, in fact. I believe he thinks it’s to arrange the marriage settlements.”

“What is your plan?”

“To allow him to think that is the case. We’ll let him believe you’re thinking of his request, if only to give Lord Muir time to acquire the letter…as for your involvement in that plan, I forbid it.”

She felt her mouth pop open. “You forbid it? I think you forget, Josh dear, that I’m a widow and quite capable of making my own decisions.” Her brother stared at her, and she refused to give way on this.

“If you’re caught with Lord Muir—”

“What of it? I’m not a debutante. I’m a widow, which no one could raise anything other than an eyebrow over. If I were caught on top of the desk, however…”

Her brother’s eyes flared, and he raised his hand, halting her words. “Really, Elizabeth. Do be serious. If this story gets out about you and Henry, being caught in Riddledale’s library will not look promising if we’re trying to alleviate such a rumor and, just to spite us, Riddledale releases Father’s missive.”

Her brother had a point, but still, Henry needed her help and, if only to be a lookout for him that night, to ensure he was able to search uninterrupted, she would risk it. “I will be helping him. So if you can speak to Riddledale, hold off his ridiculous threat, we’ll do our best to put an end to all this mess. Do you agree?” They stared at each other before her brother sighed, slumping back in his leather chair.

“Very well. Not that I like it, mind, but I agree to your plan.”

“Excellent.” Elizabeth sat back down, smiling. “One thing I wanted to mention was Lord Riddledale did seem to think on Henry’s offer of money. Do you think his lordship being so set on me is due to lack of funds?”

“I’ve not heard he’s in any financial difficulties, but I’ll put my man of business on it and see what he can find out. And if I offer him money to go away there is always the chance he’ll continue to bleed us of funds, and I refuse to be his bank. No matter what strife he may cause.”

She nodded. “I agree. Please let me know as soon as you can how your meeting with him goes.” And then she would seek out Henry and tell him. She fleetingly wondered where he was and what he was up to. What events he planned on attending over the next few weeks, all of at which she would not be present.