Only an Earl Will Do (19 page)

“What? No, Elizabeth, ye’ve got it wrong.” Henry shook his head, his eyes beseeching.

Elizabeth wished she could believe him, but she could not. “Are you telling me I didn’t just catch you in a compromising position with Miss Andrews?” Elizabeth said, gesturing to the woman.

“No,” he said. “Well, yes ye did, but it didn’t mean what ye think.”

Elizabeth laughed mockingly. It was either that or cry. “Really, and should I have married you, would all such liaisons I heard of or caught you in be viewed in such a way?”

Henry swore. “Of course not. Ye’re not thinking right.” He swore and she started at the word. “Miss Andrews and I are nothing more than friends.”

“Very good friends by the looks of it,” Elizabeth stated.

“Please stop and just listen, lass.”

Miss Andrews stood. “Lady Newland, really there was nothing in the embrace, it meant—”

“That will be all from you, Miss Andrews. I’m neither your friend nor do I trust your word. And as for you, Henry, well, I don’t know what to think.” Her voice sounded as dejected as she felt. She swallowed as the lump in her throat made it hard to breathe.

“Miss Andrews, if ye would leave us please, I wish to speak to my future wife.”

Elizabeth huffed out a breath. “She needn’t leave, I’ll go.”

Henry reached out and clasped her hand, pulling her toward him. “Ye will not.”

Miss Andrews shuffled from the room and shut the door. Elizabeth watched in shock as Henry followed her to the door, the snip of the lock sounding as loud as a war drum.

She crossed her arms over her chest, hating the fact he was pulling such high-handedness with her. She was a duke’s daughter, not some scullery maid.

He turned and leveled his displeased visage on her. “Come here, Elizabeth.”

She didn’t move, just stood there wondering how she could get to the door and through it with him standing in her way. “No.”

“If ye do not I’ll be forced to come to you.”

His words thrummed with promise, and a little part of her wanted to push him to see what in fact he would do should she not follow his order. Not that she intended to ever do as she was told. He’d picked the wrong woman to marry if he wanted a docile, obedient wife. Elizabeth paused at the thought. That was, if she ever married him after what she saw tonight. “I will not.”

He stalked toward her, and she backed up with each step he took. The determination in his gaze elicited a shiver of awareness to run through her. A small table that abutted the settee met her bottom, and she clasped it for support with nowhere else to go.

“Nothing has ever happened, or ever will happen between me and Miss Andrews. I simply gave my friend a farewell embrace after declaring to her my love for you. Her affections were engaged toward me, but it was one-sided, and I should have been honest with her from the start on who I wanted for my wife.”

“You told her about me?” It was pleasing to hear such words, but still, what was one supposed to think when one walked into a darkened room and found one’s betrothed in a compromising position?

“I was given a missive, addressed from you, that I was to meet ye here. Miss Andrews received the same, but supposedly addressed from me. How is it ye’re here, lass?”

She thought over his words, and anger coursed through her veins, scorching and molten. “Riddledale said you were playing billiards, and I should go view the game, but the way he said it, I suppose, raised my suspicions, my insecurities about us, and even though I wanted to trust you, I had to come see what his lordship was talking about. And so when I saw you—”

“With Amelia, ye assumed the worse,” he said, finishing her words.

“Yes.” He stepped up hard against her, lifting her atop the table and settling between her legs. Her body warmed, and heat pooled at her core. “I’m sorry, Henry.”

“I’m sorry, lass, for it looks like Riddledale has tried yet again to fool us and compromise me with another woman.”

Her eyes flared and she clasped his lapels. “We should leave. Should we be caught in such a situation, well, it wouldn’t bode well.”

Henry kissed her quickly, nuzzling her cheek and ear. She sighed, loving the feel of him so close to her again.

“Not yet. I need ye.”

Elizabeth looked up and met his gaze. “Here? Now?” Even to her ears she sounded scandalized.

“Aye. We’re betrothed, and who cares if Riddledale catches us, he would not dare speak of your…misdemeanor, as it were. It would not fit in with his plans for ye.” He grinned, and his intent became clear.

“But what about the letter?” They couldn’t leave it here; it was imperative that they gained it back.

“We’ll continue on with our plan as agreed, but first I need to remind ye of something.”

A warm strong hand clasped the edge of her gown, sliding it slowly up her legs. Night air kissed her skin and she reveled at being in his arms once more. Since her return to London she’d not slept well, her bed too big, too empty for one person. She’d dreadfully missed him sneaking into her room or vice versa, making love and being together until the wee hours of the morning. “And what is it that I need reminding of?”

He grinned, his hand brushing her mons and making her gasp. Elizabeth raised her legs and pulled him toward her, wanting him with a need that surpassed all else.

“That ye’re mine and I am yours, and that nothing, not Riddledale or Miss Andrews, will change that. I love ye, Elizabeth, and I’ll not lose ye again.”

His eyes glowed with primal need and, unable not to taste the sin that he offered, she reached up and pulled him down for a kiss. He hauled her hard against him, wrenching her into a world of bliss. Absently, she felt him rip open his frontfalls before jerking her core against his hardness.

Their eyes locked as he slid within her, and she muffled a groan against his shoulder at the feel of him again, of the delicious friction he wrought on her body. There was no sweet surrender, no time to fall into pleasure, it just rocked into her, hard and fast, the actions frantic and edged with a promise that this was forever, and nothing else would suffice.

All she could do was hold on to Henry and try to keep up with their mutual need. Over and over again he took her, their bodies grinding, undulating, clasping to get closer, to enjoy more what being together like this did to each other.

Henry clasped her bottom, and the action heaved her hard against him, once, twice, three rigid strokes, and pleasure shattered throughout her body. He kissed away her gasping moans, his own cries of bliss muffled against her lips. Elizabeth held him close, her breathing ragged and her body weak and sleepy.

Distantly the sounds of the supper dance sounded, and Henry pulled back, helping to right her clothing and his. “Ye look thoroughly ruined.” He grinned, a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

Elizabeth laughed. “I feel ruined.”
Ruined for anyone else
. She wiggled off the table and checked her hair in a nearby mirror. “What now?”

“Now,” Henry said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms about her stomach. “We get ye letter back and announce to the world we’re to marry.”

She smiled at him as he watched her in the mirror. “I like the sound of this plan.”

Henry nuzzled her neck, kissing it gently. “Me too, lass. Now, let’s go,” he said, slapping her bottom.

…

With a nod to Elizabeth’s brother, the Duke of Penworth, their plan was set in motion. Henry watched as Josh headed toward Lord Riddledale to keep the man occupied while he and Elizabeth disappeared to look for the stolen letter.

Elizabeth had excused herself a few minutes before, citing a need to freshen up, and now it was Henry’s turn to disappear for a time. He made his way through the throng of guests, walking toward the gaming room, which, from what Elizabeth’s brother had stated, shared a door with Riddledale’s library.

The room was full of gambling men, many of whom held expressions that were displeased and some outright terrified. He shook his head at their need for such sport. Gambling in any way was not for him, not after his grandfather had nearly lost the estate due to the habit that became an obsession.

He watched the games a moment before spotting the door he needed to get to. Strolling toward it, he casually leaned on its threshold before noting no one taking heed of his actions, so he slipped inside.

The room had only two candles burning and both were on the mantle. Henry shut the door quietly and snipped the lock, striding toward the fireplace and taking both candles over to the desk. He ducked as the other door to the room opened and closed quickly, the lithe, delectable form of his future wife making him sigh in relief. He stood, and she started before walking over to him.

“You scared me,” she whispered, giggling a little.

“Apologies.” He smiled, twisting back to the desk with turned golden feet. “Come, I need ye to search Riddledale’s shelves over by the mantle.” He pointed to a large cupboard filled with paperwork, scrolls, and books that looked like journals. “And I’ll search the desk.”

“The letter will be in Father’s writing, if you can remember his script.”

“I believe I can.” He tried the drawers and found every one of them locked. Searching for the key, he noted Riddledale kept his desk organized and nothing like the cupboard that Elizabeth searched through that was a mess of gargantuan proportions. “It may be in a tome, so shake them to see if anything falls out.”

Other than a quill, inkwell, blotter, and bronze letter racks, not much else was on the desk; certainly no key shone out like a beacon. Henry kneeled and felt along the wood under the desk, searching for a hidden compartment where one would hide a key. His search proved fruitful when a small silver key fell onto the floor.

“I’ve found the key.”

Elizabeth came over to him, kneeling beside him. “Unlock both sides, and I’ll search these drawers.”

Henry did as she bade, and they both looked through the abundance of correspondence. His lordship had many IOUs in his possession. Henry grabbed a piece of parchment and noted down as many names as he could of to whom Riddledale owed money. Should their plan fail tonight, there was hope if he bought all of Riddledale’s debt that he could barter a deal out of threat of financial ruin against the man. Either way, from tonight, the dark cloud that Elizabeth had been living under would end.

“I cannot find anything. Maybe he carries it around with him.” She slumped back on her haunches, and he continued to sift through the mail. “I would not think so, and ye brother stated he’d seen him get it out of a drawer.” After more thorough searching and his frustration rising, Henry had to concede Elizabeth may be right. The letter wasn’t here.

He stood, taking in the room, trying to think where one would hide correspondence. His gaze stopped at a lady’s gold filigreed rosewood traveling case sitting on a table beside a large globe of the world. Would Riddledale hide gentlemen’s correspondence in a woman’s desk? It was certainly not the usual place one would look if searching for something related to a man…

Henry strode over to it, conscious that their time was running short. They’d been in here too long as it was.

“What are you doing, Henry?” Elizabeth whispered when he opened it, thankful it was unlocked.

“Looking.” He studied the box, knowing these desks often held secret compartments. Removing an inkwell from its compartments did exactly what he wished—a small lock was released and applying pressure to the wood at the bottom of the desk, the compartment lifted, and three hidden drawers came into view. He silently thanked his mama for having a similar desk that he’d played with often as a boy, and now all he could do was pray this was where the letter was. Surely, if Riddledale was hiding his correspondence anywhere, it would be here.

Pulling open the first drawer, Elizabeth’s hand shot out and clasped the missive. “It’s here. This is the letter.” He smiled, putting the writing desk as it was before and closing the lid quickly. The relief on his future bride’s visage was all the thanks he required.

“I’ll lock up the other desk, and we’ll go. We need to leave.”

“Yes, you do, but not before giving back the letter you’ve just stolen.”

Elizabeth gasped, clutching the missive against her chest.

Henry laughed; he doubted his lass would be giving up the missive any time soon. “Ye mean the letter you stole, Riddledale. How amusing ye are.” He clasped Elizabeth’s arm and pulled her toward the door. “Good night to ye.”

“I can still cause a scandal for you, Lady Newland, do not mistake. It would be best if you gave me the missive and do as I bid. You will marry me, my dear. Make no illusion.”

“I will never marry you.”

Henry turned at the abhorrence of her tone, and he could not blame her. To be saddled with Riddledale would be torture. “She’ll not be marrying ye no matter what rumors ye spread to try and tarnish her or her family. Elizabeth will be my wife, and there’s the end to it. She will never be yours.”

Riddledale snarled, idly walking toward the door and leaning against its dark wood. “Have you not read the missive, Lord Muir? You’re accommodating for a man whom I would’ve thought reading the letter would’ve caused great hurt to you.”

Henry frowned, unsure of what he meant by that. “I know what’s disclosed in the letter.”

“Really?” Riddledale scoffed, his tone mocking. “Elizabeth, have you been honest finally? I doubt you know the whole truth, Lord Muir.”

Henry looked to Elizabeth and noted her quietness and wont of color on her face. He took her hand, shaking it a little. “Elizabeth, pass me the missive.”

Her eyes widened and she stilled. “Henry…I—”

“Give it to me, lass.” With reluctance, she released her grip on the note and gave it to him. He walked over to the desk, held the note beside the candlelight, and read it.

The words jumped out at him, words like
ruin
,
child
,
pregnancy
,
honor
,
marriage
,
father
… He slumped against the desk and fought not to cast up his accounts.

He was a father? Samuel was his?