The Earl Takes All (21 page)

“But you did dance with other ladies,” she pointed out. She'd seen him dancing with them, and each one had looked completely infatuated.

“I did, but I usually retired to the card room after I waltzed with you. I liked having your scent lingering around me, which in retrospect was rather masochistic on my part.”

“I truly had no idea.”

“That was the whole point in my unforgivable behavior.” They reached the foyer, and he released his hold on her. “Now I need you to see and trust that the man I was before is not the man I am.”

He wound up the music box, his large hand dwarfing the small mechanism, then set it on a table that hugged a wall. The music filled the area. He stepped up to her and drew her into the circle of his arms.

And then they were waltzing. Closer than was appropriate, more securely than he'd ever held her, as though he would never let her go. Or perhaps he merely wanted to ensure that she didn't knock into any of the tables or statuettes or flower vases. How he managed to avoid them was beyond her, as his gaze never left hers.

She realized that during all the years when they had shared a single dance, he'd always given her his full and complete attention. She simply hadn't seen it because devotion to her was not what she expected of him. She'd assumed he was striving to make her feel uncomfortable or mock her in some way, and yet still she'd enjoyed circling over the floor with him because he was one of the most graceful dancers she knew. Perhaps because he'd spent time balancing along cliffs or hazardous trails. He'd skirted obstacles to reach his destinations—­

But he'd walked away that night in the garden because his brother loved her, and she loved his brother. And he loved Albert.

The music stopped and yet still seemed to hover on the air, reluctant to go away completely. As reluctant as Edward seemed to release his hold on her. He lowered his head.

She pressed a finger to his lips. He stilled, his eyes searching hers.

“If you kiss me, I'll be lost,” she told him.

“I'll find you, lead you back.”

“I have to lead myself back. Edward, I must be sure that what I'm feeling is not influenced by what I no longer have.”

“I promised you time and you shall have it.” Stepping away from her, he went to get the music box.

She was a silly woman to mourn the distance that now separated them when she had been the one to insist upon it.

He offered his arm. “I'll escort you up.”

They were silent as they went up the stairs, and yet there was nothing uncomfortable in it. He wasn't resentful or angry, nothing untoward shimmied off him. At her door, he handed her the box.

“Sleep well, Julia.”

Then he was gone, jogging down the steps at a steady clip, the click of his footsteps echoing up. She went into her bedchamber, walked to the window and sat in the chair. Holding the music box on her lap, she wound it up, leaned back, closed her eyes and let the music and the memories overtake her.

She had no plans to compare brothers. Still, what she felt for Edward was unlike anything she'd ever before experienced. It was vibrant, alive, intense. It frightened her, if she were honest. It was as though he had the power to reach into her and expose every secret she'd ever possessed—­without shame, remorse, or guilt. Surely it could not be healthy, surely they would burn up if they gave in to their desires. But it was more than a touch of the flesh, it was a touching of souls, a commonality of passion.

She had loved once, loved still, but the stirrings in connection with Edward were vast, encompassed more than the whole, seemed to reach beyond what was safe and secure. Yet how could she contemplate not surrendering?

Chapter 20

A
s
he tossed back his scotch, Edward considered stripping down to his trousers and racing barefoot over hill and dale, taking a plunge into an icy river, finding a wolf or wild hog to wrestle. He took small comfort in the fact that she was not immune to his charms, that she did desire him, otherwise she wouldn't be so wary regarding where his kiss might lead.

Straight to her bed if he had his way with it.

The odd thing was, he understood her reluctance, had no wish to be a substitute for his brother. He wanted her feelings to be for him, separate from what she'd felt for Albert. He didn't expect them to ever be as strong or as large in scope, but he did want to be the one in possession of them.

He could honestly admit that he had never felt for any woman what he felt for her. It bloody well terrified him, and yet walking away was not even a consideration. Her company from a distance was better than not having her company at all.

Patience had never been his strong suit, but for her, he would bide his time. For her, he would have unique musical boxes crafted. For her, he would drink less. For her, he would give whatever was within him to give.

For her, he would toss and turn a good bit of the night, and wake up in a foul mood that required a cup of coffee stronger than his usual. He'd taken one sip that nearly blistered the roof of his mouth when she strolled into the breakfast dining room, wearing a black dress that was comprised of too much material and far too many buttons. She was done up tight, but still a sense of welcome relief washed through him. He shot to his feet. “Good morning. Is something amiss?”

She smiled sweetly. “I decided it was silly of me to eat alone when I could enjoy breakfast in your company. If you don't mind if I join you, that is. I suppose I should have asked first. Perhaps you prefer to begin your day in solitude.”

The way she was prattling on, he wondered if she were nervous, fearful that he might not welcome her presence. She could join him in his bath if she wanted. “I've never much cared for solitude. By all means, please join me.”

She wandered over to the sideboard, made her selections, and took her place at the foot of the table. Smart girl. If she sat within reach, he would touch her. Wouldn't be able to help himself. Just gliding a finger over her hand, her cheek would suffice to lessen his need to possess her.

Fool, nothing was going to lessen that.

Resisting the urge to pick up his plate and move nearer to her, he dropped into his chair, sipped his coffee, aware that it was now too strong, as his mood had improved considerably.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“Not really. You?”

“Horribly.”

She bestowed upon him a gamine smile. “Why does that please me, I wonder?”

“Because you're a little witch, and you know you're the cause for my restless night.”

“I would not presume—­”

His laughter quieted her. “You deny me a kiss and you don't think you're responsible?”

She glanced around as though hoping the servants had all suddenly gone deaf. He wished he could make her completely comfortable discussing their passionate natures. Then the full weight of her blue gaze fell on him. “Would a kiss have made it better?”

He released a deep sigh. “No. I suspect it would have made it all the worse, but a small price to pay for the flavor of your lips upon my tongue.”

Even at this distance, he could see the deep crimson blush creeping up her face. He rather imagined that it began at her toes. He'd like to kiss those toes, the arch of her foot, her ankles, and journey all the way up to the haven between her thighs.

She looked past him to the windows. “Appears it's going to be a lovely day outside.”

Her change of topic was no doubt intended to take his thoughts off their wayward path—­although that wasn't likely to happen. Still, no harm in allowing her to believe he was easily distracted. “I was going to ride into the village today. I wanted to check on the health of Mrs. Lark and her family. Perhaps you'd care to join me. I seem to recall promising to take you riding.”

Her face blossomed, wreathed with joy. “I would dearly love to go riding. I've missed it so.”

“We'll stop for some strawberry tarts.”

Her smile grew. “Even better.”

“We'll leave following breakfast, shall we?”

“I'll need to change.”

“Thomas,” he said, directing his attention to one of the footmen. “Send word out to the stables to have our horses readied.”

“Yes, m'lord.”

After Thomas walked out, although two other footmen remained, she leaned across the table and whispered, “And you'll behave.”

“I'll be the perfect gentleman.”

But even a perfect gentleman could find a way to steal a kiss if he put his mind to it.

I
t
felt so marvelous to be on horseback again. Her chestnut mare seemed equally pleased. While a groom had been riding and exercising her, Julia liked to think that the old girl had missed her and was glad to have her mistress back in the saddle.

It had turned out to be a rare warm day that required neither coat nor cloak. She'd never before had occasion to ride beside Edward. He kept them at a sedate pace, while she yearned to race over the fields. On the return home, she would take matters into her own hands, but she didn't wish to arrive at the widow's appearing bedraggled with her hair askew.

The village came into view. They plodded down the main narrow thoroughfare that cut through the center of the town, shops and buildings lined up on either side. At the far end, they approached a small weathered cottage that had most certainly seen better days. The door was so small that Edward would have had to duck to cross the threshold. She imagined that he had fairly filled whatever space there was inside, couldn't envision the dwelling as having more than one room.

Edward brought his horse to a halt and dismounted in a graceful movement that made her mouth go dry. Why did the most common of actions, when performed by him, have to affect her as though he were the most extraordinary man she'd ever seen?

He came around and held his arms up to her. The moment she had both anticipated and dreaded. His powerful hands spanning the breadth of her waist, closing around it, his eyes latched onto hers, her hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders. He lifted her up slightly, brought her down, leaving her with the impression that he could have held her aloft all day, without his muscles once quivering with fatigue. Her feet came to rest on the dirt, her knees feeling somewhat weak—­no doubt because she'd gone so long without riding. Not because he looked at her as though he might sweep her into the cottage and have his way with her.

“Your lordship!” The youthful voice echoed around them.

Edward broke out into a wide grin, released her and spun around just as an urchin leapt on him, the boy's legs circling his waist, his scrawny arms wrapping around the earl's neck as Edward closed his arms around the lad. Not that Julia thought that action was needed. The boy clung so tenaciously to him that she didn't think Edward would be able to extricate himself from the hold, even if he wanted to.

A slender woman with a babe in her arms and a little girl clutching her skirt scrambled out of the house. “Johnny Lark! Get off his lordship this instant. You can't be crawling all over your betters.”

“It's quite all right, Mrs. Lark,” Edward said. “I'm just glad to see he appears to be doing well.”

“Too well if you ask me. He is a handful. I was sorry to hear you took ill, m'lord.”

“I'm fine, completely recovered, no lingering ill affects.”

“Ye lost weight. I can tell that. Come inside for a cup of stew.”

Julia knew it was ridiculous to experience a pang of jealousy because this woman with her worn clothes, her untidy hair, her rough raw hands, knew Edward well enough to note that he had indeed lost weight.

“I appreciate the offer, but I promised the countess some pastry.” He turned to her. “Lady Greyling, allow me to introduce Mrs. Lark.”

She smiled kindly. “It's a pleasure.”

Mrs. Lark curtsied three times, as though she wasn't quite certain when she'd paid enough homage. “M'lady. Sorry I'm such a sight. Wasn't expecting company today. But I've got enough stew for the both of you.”

“That's very kind of you, but I rather have my heart set on the pastries. I possess a bit of a sweet tooth.”

The woman smiled winsomely, as though she and Julia shared a little secret, then she scowled, reached out and swatted her son's backside. “Johnny, get
off
his lordship.”

Like a little monkey, the lad scrambled down. Mrs. Lark's face fell. “Oh, look what you did. You got dust all over his clothes. I'll be happy to give 'em a good washing, Lord Greyling.”

“Actually, Mrs. Lark, that's part of the reason I've come today. I deduced by the lines strung up at the back of your house that you're a washerwoman.”

“Yes, m'lord. I'd be pleased and honored to do your laundry free of charge for an entire month to thank ye for taking care of us.”

“Not necessary. However, we are in need of a washerwoman at Evermore. I wondered if you might be interested in the position.”

The woman's eyes widened. “You mean, working for you?”

“For the estate, yes. The countess recently gave birth to a daughter, and as I understand it, the present laundress's workload has increased somewhat. You would assist her, live within the residence, have three rooms available for you and your children. They would be tutored. Meals and clothing would be provided to your family. I'm also in need of a boot boy if Johnny is interested. You and he would both receive a salary.”

She staggered back. “Caw! Blimey!”

Julia wasn't surprised by her reaction. Edward was offering them an incredible opportunity to better themselves. She realized while he may have wanted to assure himself that they were well on the road to recovery, his main purpose in coming here was to take further care of this widow and her children.

“I'd be honored, m'lord.”

“Very good. I'll send a footman along Thursday next to assist you and the children in packing up and moving to Evermore, if that gives you enough time to prepare.”

“Oh, it does indeed.” Tears welled in the woman's eyes. “I didn't know how we'd make it with my man gone. Can hardly afford the cottage and food.”

“Well, now you no longer have to worry about it. I'd say a celebration is in order. What say Johnny accompany us to the tea shop for some meat pies?”

“I like pastries,” Johnny announced.

“Johnny, don't be asking for things,” his mother admonished.

“Nothing wrong in asking, Mrs. Lark,” Edward said. “Worse that'll happen is that I'll say no.” He winked at Johnny. “Then again, I might say yes. Come on, lad.”

After grabbing the reins to their horses, Edward offered Julia his arm.

“It was lovely to meet you, Mrs. Lark,” Julia said before placing her hand in the crook of Edward's elbow.

Johnny hopped on one foot, then the other, darting in front of her before settling in to walk beside Edward. “I can do more than polish your boots,” he assured Edward. “I can take care of your horses and your dogs, if you have dogs. Do you have dogs?”

“We have some hunting dogs, yes.”

“Don't take care of cats, though. Don't like cats.”

“Think the cats pretty much take care of themselves. Would you rather work in the stables than in the manor?”

The boy nodded feverishly. “Can I pet your horse?”

“You may.”

“If I work hard will you tell me some more stories?”

She watched Edward's profile as the corner of his mouth lifted. “I may very well indeed.”

“I liked the weasel best.”

Edward's laughter echoed around them. “Yes, I imagined you would.”

“Think he should have a sword, though.”

Edward shifted his gaze to her. “What do you think, countess?”

“I don't know that I see him with a sword. A rapier, perhaps. Or maybe we need another character entirely.” Another one was beginning to take shape in her mind. “You shared the story with him.”

“Seemed the best way to keep the children calm.”

She wondered how many lords would have given two figs if the children were rambunctious. But then how many lords would have stayed with a recent widow and cared for her?

She bid her time until they were sitting at the same table they'd sat at before, strawberry tarts and cups of tea in front of them. Before sending Johnny on his way, Edward had loaded him up with meat pies and enough various pastries to give the entire family a bellyache. “How did you come to know Mrs. Lark?” Julia asked.

He shrugged. “Johnny was in here, trying to purchase a meat pie for his dying mum. He didn't have enough money so I bought them, escorted him home, and discovered his mother was indeed ill.”

“You remained to take care of them.”

“Her husband had recently died. People are suspicious about death. Some believe it lingers, searching for another victim.”

“But you don't?”

“There's not a good deal that I fear. Losing my parents when I was so young caused me to become a bit reckless. Then, of course, living at Havisham where we were told that a ghost would snatch us up at night if we went outside made us all rather intrepid. You can only live in fear for so long before you say to hell with it.”

“A method to the marquess's madness?”

“Possibly. I hadn't considered that, but yes, I suppose it's quite possible.”

Sipping her tea, she considered his earlier actions. “Offering Mrs. Lark a place at Evermore was very generous.”

“We can well afford to be generous.”