The Earl Takes All (12 page)

But as of yesterday he was an uncle, and he had to give serious thought to being a good one.

He was also an earl. Officially, unequivocally.

All the work he'd done to oversee his brother's estates—­suddenly, he'd been doing it for himself. All the responsibilities regarding the title were now his burden to carry, including providing an heir. Hell and damnation. Getting married had never been in his plans. Now he would have no choice.

But that was for considering another day, perhaps in another decade. Presently, he still needed to take care of Julia, ensure she recovered. It wasn't uncommon for women to fall ill shortly after they'd given birth, so his decision last night to delay telling her the truth was for her health. And he had a child to look after.

First things first. A bath and breakfast.

After he was finished with both he felt more like himself and better able to face the day, to face Julia. When he walked into her bedchamber, she was sitting up in bed, Alberta nestled in her arms. They were perfection, both mother and daughter. Torrie got up from a chair beside the bed, gave him a quick curtsy, and discreetly left.

“You look awful,” Julia said, her brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”

Perhaps he wasn't quite as much himself as he'd thought. Guilt gnawed at him for making her worry. “I took a bottle of scotch to the mausoleum to celebrate Alberta's birth with my brother. We'd always planned to have a drink on that most auspicious occasion. I got carried away.” Leaning over, he brushed a quick kiss across her lips. “Sorry if I worried you.”

“I'm sorry he wasn't here to celebrate. I should have realized how hard it would be for you—­”

“Don't concern yourself. You had enough to worry over.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “How is your daughter this morning?”

“She's yours as well.”

Damn. The fog from his mind wasn't entirely lifted. “Our daughter. Difficult to believe we actually have her.”

“Would you like to hold her?”

The correct answer was no, because if he fell any more in love with her, if Julia wasn't willing to share her when she learned the truth, his heart might break. But at that moment he was pretending to be her father, not her uncle, and what father would refuse? To be honest, what uncle worth his salt would refuse? Besides, the truth was that he was desperate to feel her in his arms again. “I'd like that. Yes.”

Alberta did little more than mewl as Julia transferred her over to him. Standing, he began swaying back and forth. “Hello, Lady Allie.”

“Allie?”

“Alberta seems a bit grown-­up for one so small, don't you think?”

She smiled softly. “I suppose you're right. Are you certain you're not disappointed that she isn't a boy?”

“I promise you with all my heart that I'm not disappointed in the least.”

“I was just so sure, but then I guess one never truly knows. Next time.”

He swallowed. “Next time, yes.” If she had a next time, it would be because she'd remarried. She would give another lord his heir. He didn't want to think about Allie going to live on another estate, growing up in the shadow of a different residence. She belonged here. It was the home of her father.

Both he and Albert should have grown up here, but fate had denied them that privilege, those memories. He didn't want a childhood on these grounds stolen from Allie. Albert wouldn't want it either.

“What's wrong?” Julia asked. “Your face is a storm cloud.”

He shook his head, waved off the troubling thoughts. “I'm sorry. I was just thinking about how important it is that she have the opportunity to grow up here, and how it was denied to me and my brother.”

“All of this must be bittersweet. Your childhood memories being stirred, Edward not being here.”

“It's far more sweet than it is bitter, I promise you. And I haven't asked how you're feeling.”

“A little sore, but happy. Dr. Warren ordered me to stay abed for two months, but I've already gotten out of bed to see to my toilette and I felt fine.”

“You should listen to your doctor.”

“I don't think it's good to stay abed. I won't be reckless but I don't see the harm in sitting in a chair. And I want to feel strong enough to go downstairs by Christmas. This will be our first as a family. I want everything to be perfect.”

A perfect Christmas. That would be his gift to her. Then he would tell her the truth.

Chapter 12

S
itting
in the parlor, watching as the servants finished trimming the tree, Julia could hardly believe it was Christmas Eve, that three weeks had passed so quickly. Allie slept in a nearby cradle that was decorated with holly and red velvet ribbon. She was such a delight, but still so small. Dr. Warren had decided she needed to be fed formula rather than mother's milk.

“I feel as though I'm failing her,” she'd told Albert.

“You only fail her if you don't heed your doctor's advice,” he'd assured her.

She hadn't expected her husband to be so attentive or to spend so much time holding his daughter. With winter upon them, there was little need for him to go out and check on his tenants, but she still hadn't anticipated that much of his day would be spent entertaining her. They played cards. Sometimes he read to her.

He would get a bit miffed when she insisted upon walking through the residence. “I would think your physician has good reason for encouraging you to stay abed.”

“I can think of none when I feel so much better after I walk.”

He always accompanied her, provided an arm, and didn't harp on his displeasure with her. Their strolls were her favorite moments of the day. Sometimes they were silent. Sometimes they shared memories of their youth and spoke of their plans for Allie, all the things they would show her, teach her. Following in her father's footsteps, she would travel the world. Their daughter most certainly was going to have a singular upbringing.

Julia had always thought she loved Albert as much as it was possible to love a man. Strange to discover that with each passing day she loved him more deeply.

He stood by the fireplace with its evergreen boughs, his elbow resting on the mantel as he slowly sipped his scotch, his gaze on the activity near the tree. He was so incredibly attractive and masculine, every inch of him calling to her wantonness. From time to time he would glance over at her, smile, then his gaze would dip to the cradle, his eyes would soften. They were a family. They would have so many moments like this. A lifetime's worth.

“Is it to your liking, m'lady?” Mrs. Bedell asked as the servants who had been assisting her stood at attention, hopeful expressions mirrored on each of their faces.

“Yes, thank you, it's beautiful.”

The housekeeper ushered out the servants. Albert walked over and took the chair beside hers. “I'm surprised you weren't in the thick of things, assisting them.”

“I did put up a couple of baubles while you went to retrieve your scotch.”

He laughed. “You are a stubborn wench.”

“I'm not going to spend any more time abed.”

He turned in the chair so he could see her more easily. “Julia—­”

“I'm fine, Albert.”

Reaching out, he took her hand, his expression deadly serious. “I don't want anything to happen to you.”

“I feel best when I'm up and about. Now that I'm no longer nursing, my body doesn't need all the rest.”

“I don't suppose there's any real harm in it. I did once see a woman in Africa give birth and then immediately return to skinning hides.”

“You didn't think that was worth mentioning before?”

“I'm not going to give you ammunition for your arguments.”

She slapped playfully at his arm, glad to see his eyes twinkling with humor. “I should be cross with you.”

“Not on Christmas Eve.”

“No, not on Christmas Eve.”

He leaned toward her. “So what present did you get me?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I'm not telling, but it should be arriving any time now.”

His brow furrowed. “You're having something delivered here today for me?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

He pursed his lips together. “What is it?”

“Patience, my husband. I've been planning this for a while. I'm not going to ruin the surprise now by telling you what it is.” Taking his hand, she settled back against the chair. He finished off his scotch, set the glass aside, stared at the tree.

“It's so quiet,” he said solemnly.

“I know you miss him.”

“More than I can say. It would be a difficult Christmas indeed, if not for Allie.”

“Then I'm glad she came early, even if she is a bit small.”

“She's growing. She's getting heavier in my arms. Next Christmas she'll be climbing all over that tree.”

Julia heard the front door opening, voices in the entryway, and fought not to change her expression, not to give anything away.

“Who's that?” Albert asked, coming to his feet. “Carolers, do you think?”

Julia rose as well. “Perhaps. Should probably go see.”

He offered his arm. They'd taken only two steps when the Duke and Duchess of Ashebury and Viscount Locksley crossed the threshold.

“Happy Christmas!” they all said in unison.

“What the devil are you doing here?” Albert asked.

“We were invited,” Ashebury announced.

Clearly confused, Albert looked at her. She smiled. “Your gift arrives at last. Merry Christmas, my love.”

“You could not have given me anything better.”

Then he hauled her up against him and took her mouth.

H
e
hadn't kissed her since just before she gave birth, and he knew he could not have chosen a worse moment to do so—­with an audience. But he'd been dreading the holidays, known they were another moment that would hammer home the absence of his brother. And he was truly touched by her gift of his friends.

He welcomed the excuse to show his appreciation by plastering his lips to hers. He suffered through the agony of holding her every night, chastely, his arm around her diminishing waist. Each day, the evidence that she'd given birth dwindled. And he found himself wanting her all the more, fighting to keep his desires in check.

The fight was raging now—­again with an audience.

Breaking from the kiss, he strode toward their visitors. “This is a marvelous surprise.” He gave the duchess a hug, a kiss on the cheek. Shook Ashe's hand, clapped his back, did the same with Locke before asking him, “What about your father?”

“He's never liked Christmas,” Locke said. “You know that. I doubt he'll even notice I'm not there.”

“Well, I'm glad to have you here. Allow me to introduce you to Lady Alberta.”

Minerva hadn't bothered to wait for him to lead them over. She was already at Julia's side, cooing over the child whom Julia now cradled lovingly in her arms. He'd never before realized how much a mother could love a child, had never considered what he and the others had missed out on by not having their mothers about as they grew into men.

“She's gorgeous,” Minerva said.

“We think so,” Julia admitted. “And Albert is a wonderful father, rocking her in the middle of the night when she awakens.”

He could feel the gazes of both Ashe and Locke bearing down on him, knew what they were thinking, that they were judging him. He hardly blamed them. Once they'd given adequate attention to Julia and the babe, he suggested they retire to the library for a quick brandy before dinner.

The library door had barely closed behind them when Ashe said, “You haven't told her yet.”

Not a question, a statement. Edward strode to the sideboard, poured brandy into three snifters, turned to hand them each one. “She wanted a perfect Christmas. I didn't think her knowing she was a widow would accomplish that. I'll tell her after.”

“This seems an incredibly unwise course.”

Not the first one he'd ever traveled. Ignoring the censure and a need to respond, he raised his glass. “To Lady Alberta and Julia's health.”

The gentlemen drank, Edward downing far more than either of them. Now he needed to think of another toast, give them reasons to continue drinking so they'd leave off the inquisition.

“And the kiss?” Ashe asked.

Edward fought not to reveal his irritation that Ashe was acting as though he were a chaperon. He didn't want them reading anything into his displeasure other than what it was: annoyance at having all his actions questioned. “A husband kisses his wife when she does something to please him, doesn't he?”

“Not always with quite so much enthusiasm,” Locke said. “The two of you generated more heat than the logs burning in the fireplace.”

“Bugger off, both of you.”

“You've grown to like her,” Ashe said, clearly befuddled.

“I might appreciate her more than I once did.” No harm in admitting that. They'd always liked her, thought he'd been a fool not to feel the same.

“The longer you wait—­”

“Damn you, Ashe, do you not think I'm aware that there will never be a perfect moment to break her heart? The holidays just seemed an unusually cruel time to do so. In the new year. She'll be fully recovered from the ordeal of childbirth and better able to cope with the grief. I'll tell her then.”

Ashe tipped his head in acquiescence, sipped his brandy, his eyes narrowing. “Just see that you do or I shall.”

“It's not your place.”

“As Albert's friend, I disagree. He wouldn't want his wife taken advantage of.”

“How pray tell am I taking advantage of her? I'm not bedding her. An occasional kiss is harmless. From the beginning, I've done nothing except strive to protect her. I gain nothing for myself by continuing the ruse.”

“He does have a point,” Locke said, tapping a finger against his snifter. “He's truly the Earl of Greyling now. The temporary role is now a permanent one.”

Edward nodded, met each of their gazes, wanted to confirm the truth of his feelings. “I wish to God she'd had a boy. The title should go to Albert's son, not his brother, but that little girl has stolen my heart.”

“She's the image of her mother,” Locke offered.

“She is that. Albert would have been pleased.”

“We need to make a toast to the new Earl of Greyling,” Ashe said, lifting his glass. “Welcome to our ranks, my lord.”

They all raised their glasses before downing the contents that remained in each one. Edward poured them more.

“You'll be a good earl,” Locke said.

“I shall at least try.” He chuckled. “I can't believe Julia invited you here and kept it from me.”

“She feared you'd be melancholy.”

“But you two shall stop that from happening.”

“Absolutely. Whatever else are friends for?”

For holding secrets.

“
W
ere
you really pleased with your surprise?” Julia asked as Albert joined her in the sitting area of her bedchamber.

Dinner had been a smashing success, with more laughter and joviality than she'd heard in ages. It had lightened her heart to see her husband enjoying himself.

“You could not have given me anything better,” he said as he sat beside her on the sofa.

She had already changed into her nightdress, while he was still dressed for the evening. She might have suspected that he and the other gents were going to play billiards if it weren't for the fact that their company had already retired for the night.

“I fear my gift to you will pale in comparison.”

“You've already given me the journal, although I decided not to read it until after the holidays. It seemed like peeking into the box otherwise.”

“You're deserving of something much more than a journal.”

Before she could tell him that it was the very best present he could have given her, he slid a leather case out of his inside jacket pocket and set it on her lap. “Shouldn't this be beneath the tree so that I can open it in the morning?”

“You might think Father Christmas brought it to you. I'd rather you open it now while it's only the two of us.”

Removing the lid revealed a bracelet of linked pewter roses. “Oh, it's beautiful.”

“Whenever I see roses, I think of you,” he said quietly.

She smiled at him. “They're my favorite flower, my favorite fragrance.”

With one large hand, he cradled her cheek. “They became mine the first time I kissed you.”

He took her mouth with such tenderness, such gentleness, that she nearly wept. As she was still recovering from childbirth, he had been incredibly patient, marvelously solicitous, not pressuring her, not insisting on exercising his husbandly rights. Not that he would have to insist on anything. If she were completely healed, she would lead him to the bed at this very second.

With a groan, he shifted, his arms came around her, and she suddenly found herself sprawled across his lap as his tongue lapped at her neck, her collarbone, the dip between her breasts, before trailing over the upper swells. Heat swirled through her, moisture gathered between her thighs. She began fumbling with the buttons on her nightdress. She wanted his mouth over her entire breast, one then the other.

His hand closed around hers as he raised his head, held her gaze. “I won't be able to stop.”

She sank against him. She was still bleeding, hardly a tempting vixen. Scraping her fingers up into his hair, she fought to calm her erratic heart. “I want you so badly. A few more weeks seem an eternity.” She slid her hand down, pressing her fingers just below his jaw where she could feel the thundering of his pulse. “At least let me make your Christmas merry.”

Slowly, he shook his head. “You know my gentleman's rule. Besides, when we do finally come together, it will be better for having waited.”

His glorious mouth returned to hers, a little less gentle than before, with a little more hunger, a little more heat. His hands behaved, daring only to stroke her back, her hips, her spine. But his lips, his tongue, behaved with complete abandon, caressing every inch of her mouth, drawing moans and sighs from her, causing heat to ebb and flow through her until she was mad for him.