The Earl Takes All (5 page)

She smiled sublimely. “That's your son.”

His brow furrowed. Earlier she'd referred to the child as a son. “How do you know it's a boy?”

“I just know. Women know all manner of things. I also know that this one is going to stay with us. When the nightmares come, just know that very soon you will be holding a new life.”

A knot lodged in his throat, his chest tightened to such an extent that he feared he might never again breathe. Bending slightly, he pressed a kiss beside the place where her hand rested over his. He lifted his gaze to hers. “No matter what happens, Julia, no matter how much you may find me changed, know that there is nothing in this world that I want more than I want this child to be born healthy and strong. There is nothing I want more than for you and him to be well and happy.”

As he laid his cheek against her, felt her fingers combing gently through his hair, it occurred to him that never in his life had he spoken truer words.

E
dward
awoke with the realization that his cock obviously cared not one whit whose luscious backside it was pressed against, or how inappropriate it was to be nudging a woman he should never desire.

When they returned to the bed in the early hours of the morning, his arms went around her and he wanted her near, wanted to offer comfort to her as she had offered it to him. Not that she was aware she was in need of comfort, but she would be eventually. Perhaps if he were tender now, she would be more willing to accept his condolences later.

He'd been able to ward off any recurring nightmares by focusing on how soft and pliable she felt in his arms. Her rosewater fragrance. Whenever the image of her naked in the bed had danced through his mind, he shoved it aside, although it kept teasing him from a distance. She was his brother's wife. He'd failed miserably, striving to recall any one of the countless other women he'd been with over the years, and his last thought before drifting off had been of Julia's small feet cupped in his large hands.

He'd betrayed Albert in the garden that long ago night. He certainly wasn't going to betray his trust in death. He was merely going to carry through on his promise and then be done with her.

Lifting up slightly, he gazed down on her profile. She looked so innocent in sleep, with one hand curled on the pillow, the fingers of her other hand interlaced with his and resting just below her breasts. He could feel the movements of her soft breaths. He had an insane urge to lean over farther and press a kiss to her slightly parted lips.

Last night she'd nearly brought him to his knees with her kindness. He'd not expected that, had been unprepared for it. He was going to have to remain ever vigilant lest he become so comfortable around her that he revealed his true self, gave himself away.

Her eyes fluttered open and he stared into the depths of a vast ocean in which he could easily drown. “Morning,” she said softly.

He wanted to draw her in closer, stay with her for the remainder of the day. Instead, he cleared his throat. “I should probably check on our guests.”

“Probably. I'll be down after breakfast.”

Before he could decipher that statement, a knock sounded on the door.

“There it is now,” she said. “I told Torrie not to let me sleep in.”

“I'll see you later, then,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before leaving the bed and going into his chamber.

As he heard her bade her maid to enter, he leaned against the closed door and breathed a deep sigh. He'd managed to get through the night without giving himself away, although there had been moments when he'd dearly wanted to confess all. He had to remind himself that she was only being kind toward him because she believed he was Albert.

Shoving himself away from the door, he yanked on the bellpull to summon his valet and then immediately stilled. When had he begun to think of Marlow as his valet and not Albert's? He supposed it was a good thing that he was settling into the role. He simply needed to remember that none of this was permanent. Once the heir arrived, he would merely serve as guardian over his nephew's domain until he reached his majority. Then he would carry on with his life. He didn't need to get too comfortable here.

Julia was so certain she was carrying a boy. Surely women sensed those things. He wouldn't even consider that his brother's heir would not be arriving shortly.

After his valet prepared him for the day, Edward made his way down to the breakfast dining room. Ashe and Locke were already seated at the table. They both looked up, studied him hard, and he wondered if he'd sprouted a pair of horns.

“How was your night?” Ashe asked.

“Restless. Julia is having breakfast in bed.”

“So is Minerva. That is what ladies do.”

As he went to the sideboard, he almost asked if that was true of all ladies. His associations with women usually didn't offer the luxury of lingering until breakfast. He wondered what else he didn't know about them.

He almost took the chair beside Ashe before remembering that his place was now at the head of the table. He'd avoided this moment, taking meals in his room. He could feel Ashe and Locke studying him, wondered if they could sense the battle with which he was grappling. He had to take that chair as though he had sat in it the entirety of his adult life. Avoiding their gazes, setting down his plate, he dragged the chair back and dropped into it, once again hit with the devastation of loss. Would he ever sit here and not feel like a usurper?
It's only temporary until the heir is born.

As casually as possible, he began slicing the ham. “What else do ladies do?”

“Keep us gents waiting,” Ashe said, as though unaware of the emotions rioting through Edward, as though accustomed to Edward sitting at the head of the table.

“Drive us to madness,” Locke said at the same time.

Grinning, Edward shifted his gaze between his friends. “We obviously all view women differently.”

And the servants had ears, even if they were supposed to keep their mouths shut. He wished he could send the butler and footman from the room. Instead, he sipped his tea and refrained from adding more sugar.

“I know the extent of your grief is immeasurable,” Locke said quietly. “If you like, I could stay a couple of days to help you get the estate's affairs in order after your long sojourn.”

“That's kind of you, but unnecessary. I feel up to the task of meeting with the steward later this morning.” On more than one occasion when visiting, Edward had sat in the library and observed Albert handling his estates. While impatient, ready to be off carousing, surely he'd retained a bit of knowledge.

“Well, if you find yourself in need of assistance, don't hesitate to ask,” Locke insisted.

“Afraid I can't offer you the same consideration,” Ashe said. “I find managing estates to be a bit more formidable than Locke does.”

“It gets easier over time. It also helps if you grew up there. While I'm sorry you didn't get to live on your estates until you reached your majority, I am grateful you were both about Havisham to stop my life from being so lonely.” With a slight grin, he looked at Edward. “Do you remember when your brother found a way for us to get up on the roof?”

They'd only been at Havisham for a few days. “We were planning to run off. He was hoping to get a glimpse of Evermore so we'd know in which direction to go.”

“It was my first real adventure. I was terrified I was going to slide off.”

“You wouldn't have gone far. We were all joined with a rope tied about our waists.”

“All that ensured was that we would all slide off together.”

“Which was the point,” Ashe said. “If one of us went, we all went.”

“That is not how my brother explained it to me.”

Ashe shrugged. “But that was the truth of it. We became fast friends so quickly. Remarkable, really.”

They had become more than friends. Nearly brothers.

“Do you remember when the Gypsies came through?” Locke asked. “Your brother wanted us to leave with them.”

“He fell in love with one of the girls,” Edward admitted. “She let him kiss her. He worried for the longest time that he'd gotten her with child.”

“From a kiss?” Ashe asked.

Edward grinned. “We were ten. What did we know? He finally gathered up enough courage to ask the marquess.”

Locke's eyes widened. “That's the reason he took us to a tenant's farm to watch a pair of horses breeding?”

Edward chuckled. “I suspect so, yes. I remember all the questions we had afterward. Not that we dared ask him.”

“He would have done better taking us to a brothel,” Ashe said.

“We were lads. They'd have not let us through the door. Besides, I have such lovely memories of time spent with the farmer's daughter years later.”

“She was sweet,” Ashe said with a grin.

“But she only liked novices. Told her I was my brother, so I got to experience her twice. Thought he'd be mad at me for denying him his turn with her. Then I found out he was spending time with a tavern girl in the village.”

“He never was one for competing,” Ashe said.

“When he put his mind to it, though, he could drink us all under the table,” Locke pointed out.

“Then the next morning when we were all sick as dogs, he'd walk about gloating,” Edward reminded them, smiling at the memory.

“He was obnoxious about it,” Ashe recalled.

“I would have been as well if I suffered no ill effects.”

“How did he manage it?” Locke asked.

“I'm not convinced he actually drank,” Edward admitted.

“But I saw him downing the swill.”

“He sipped, he never downed. He filled the glasses, only made it appear he was filling his own.”

“You really think he pulled one over on us?”

Edward nodded. “I do. My brother was not always a paragon of virtue.”

“I should say not,” Ashe began. “Do you remember the time . . .”

J
ulia
heard the laughter as she neared the breakfast dining room. Smiling, she leaned against the wall and absorbed the sweetness of joy, so grateful for it, so glad that Albert had his friends to distract him from his sorrow. It was odd how she could distinguish Albert's laughter from the others'. It was a bit deeper, a little more free, as though he enjoyed life a bit more than they did.

It was marvelous to awaken in his arms. They would move forward one day at a time and eventually the grief would ebb away, although she was beginning to realize that she might not have the exact Albert she'd had before. How could she? After months apart, she wasn't exactly the same either. Never before had she been completely without male supervision. Although she'd missed Albert dreadfully, she'd found her time alone quite liberating.

At the click of approaching footsteps, she glanced to the side and smiled at Minerva.

“Are we hiding out?” Minerva asked as she neared.

“I'm eavesdropping on their laughter. I feared it might be a while before any was echoing through the residence again.”

“Something about masculine laughter is very satisfying.”

“I can't recall Albert ever being quite so boisterous.”

“They're different when no ladies are about.”

“I rather regret that we'll be disturbing them, but I suppose we must.”

“Before they discover we're out here listening. I don't think they'll appreciate our taking advantage.”

Albert most certainly would not. With a deep breath, Julia led the way into the dining room. The laughter immediately abated, replaced by the scraping of chairs over flooring as the men came to their feet.

“We didn't mean to disturb you,” she said as she crossed over to be nearer to her husband. He appeared less troubled, more himself, and she was grateful for the friendship he'd developed with these men.

“We were finished,” he assured her.

“It was good to hear you laugh.”

“Our youth provided ample opportunity for such. We were recalling some of the jollier moments.”

“But we must away now,” Ashe said. “While the weather holds.”

Coaches were brought round, trunks loaded, and in no time at all they were standing outside with the chilled wind whipping around them.

“You will send word if you need anything,” Minerva said to her.

All she needed was time alone with her husband. He was speaking with the duke and viscount, so serious again. “I will, thank you.”

As their guests climbed into their respective carriages, Albert came over to stand beside her. “It's cold out. You should be inside.”

Slipping her arm around his, she was aware of him stiffening. “The sun is peering through the clouds. I could do with some sun.”

He lifted a hand as the drivers urged the horses forward. She waved, wondering if things would ever again feel normal. They stood there, facing outward for the longest time, until the coaches were out of sight.

“What now?” she asked, hoping he wouldn't retreat back into his rooms.

He kept his gaze on the road, and she wondered if he wished he were in one of the carriages. “I'm meeting with Bocock in a bit. I need to prepare for that.” With her arm nestled in his, he began escorting her up the stairs. “I know I've already said it once, but I can't thank you enough for handling and arranging everything so expertly. I don't know how I would have managed without you.”

“I hope you never have to find out.”

There was the flinch again. If she hadn't been touching him, she wouldn't have been aware of it. She thought they'd reconnected in the early hours of the morning, but right then she felt a chill coming from him that was colder than the air whipping around them.

Chapter 5

H
e'd
often sat in his brother's office, in a nearby chair, sipping scotch and listening with half an ear while reading or plotting his next adventure as Albert discussed his estate with his steward. So Edward was familiar with Bocock, thought he had an understanding of everything that was within the Earl of Greyling's purview. But after an hour discussing matters with the steward, he realized with startling clarity that he hadn't a bloody clue regarding everything that required an earl's attention.

When the door opened, he was grateful for the reprieve as Julia strolled in. He and Bocock came to their feet.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said softly, smiling serenely, “but I might take a leisurely stroll to the village.”

He might have told her to go on if she didn't look so hopeful. Albert would have accompanied her, which meant he needed to do the same, had to give the impression that he looked forward to being in her presence. “A lovely idea. I'll accompany you. We shouldn't be much longer here.”

“Then I'll wait, shall I?”

Apparently she was fond of rhetorical questions, because without giving him a chance to respond, she settled into a nearby chair, folding her hands on what remained of her lap. He forced himself to smile, to look pleased, when in truth he wished she wasn't here to witness his bumbling about. Bocock might not notice it, but she no doubt knew every variance of her husband's mannerisms. Had she sat in on these discussions before?

But he couldn't worry about her at that moment. He had to ensure the estates were well managed for the nephew to whom she would soon give birth. Only a few more weeks and he would no longer have to pretend to be the earl. Yet still he would oversee the properties and incomes until the boy reached his majority. The sooner he had a good grasp of everything involved, the sooner he could make certain his brother's legacy remained intact. He retook his seat. Bocock did the same.

“Looking over the reports here, I notice it's been a while since Rowntree has made any payments,” Edward said.

“Yes, m'lord. As we discussed before you left on your travels, Rowntree believes that since three generations of his family have shepherded on that land, it belongs to him now, and he should not have to pay for the right to graze his sheep there. You were of a mind to be lenient in hopes that he'd come around. He hasn't. As a matter of fact, two other tenants have not paid recently. I fear you may be losing control.”

May be losing it? It was bloody well gone. Had Albert truly believed leniency was the way to go? He knew Albert avoided confrontation whenever possible, but in this case it simply wasn't possible.

“Are you rethinking your stance, sir?” Bocock asked, and Edward heard the disrespect in his voice.

“Watch your tone, Bocock. You're not the only steward in the land.”

“Apologies, m'lord. I didn't mean to question—­”

“I have no problem with you questioning me. I pay you to oversee matters, keep me informed, and advise me. But I won't tolerate any snide retorts.” He slapped his palm down on the ledger. “Nor will I tolerate any man who does not pay what is due.”

Bocock straightened as though Edward had shoved a poker down his spine. “I'll speak with Rowntree.”

“I'll handle Rowntree. You speak with the others. I expect payment. I expect it timely or I'll know the reason why. If it isn't a damned good one, I'll help pack them up and send them on their way. Just as you are not the only steward, they are not the only farmers.”

“With all due respect, m'lord, tenants are harder to come by. Factories and such offer a man a better living.”

“Then the land can lay fallow, although I suspect there are a few industrious souls left who would welcome the opportunity to work outside rather than in cramped quarters. If not, perhaps I'll work the land myself.”

Bocock's brow furrowed, his eyes blinked. “You're a lord.”

As though that explained it all. “I intend to ensure the next Earl of Greyling inherits well. I will do whatever necessary to secure his future.”

“Of course, m'lord.”

Edward closed the ledger and pushed it across the desk to where the other man sat. “I think we're done here.”

“When will you be speaking with Rowntree?”

“This afternoon.”

Bocock smiled. “Not letting any grass grow beneath your feet.”

“I've learned of late that life is precarious. It's best to see to matters straightaway.” Edward came to his feet.

Bocock shoved himself out of his chair, clutching and unclutching the brim of his hat. “Once again, m'lord, I'm sorry for your loss. Not easy losing a brother.”

“No, it's not.” But he'd wallowed enough. Now he had to see to the future of his brother's child. “We'll meet again in a fortnight, see where things stand.”

“Very good, m'lord.” Turning to go, he tipped his head toward Julia. “Good day, Lady Greyling.”

She pushed herself out of the chair, an ungainly move that Edward should not have found endearing. “Give my best to your wife, Mr. Bocock.”

“I will indeed, m'lady.”

With that, he walked from the room. Edward should have been able to breathe a sigh of relief, but Julia approached, so he kept up the façade that he hoped to God mirrored his brother's.

“I've never seen you quite so forceful,” she said, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

“I'm all for leniency until someone takes advantage. Then my assertive nature breaks through.”

She released a small laugh. “I rather liked it.”

He couldn't deny that her words pleased him. “I can't let the tenants think they're in charge. However, I do want to handle this matter with Rowntree posthaste. Perhaps you should go to the village without me.”

“I'll come with you to Rowntree's. We can go from there.”

Every inch of him shouted that it was a bad idea. But he couldn't continue to make excuses not to be in her company. “Splendid. I assume it's unsafe for you to ride a horse in your condition.”

“Yes, I've not risked riding since I discovered I was with child. We'll need a carriage.”

“I'll have one readied. Will leaving in half an hour suit?”

“Perfectly.”

He waited until she left the room before walking over to the sideboard and pouring himself a finger of scotch. Just enough for fortification.

An afternoon spent with Julia. How could anything possibly go wrong?

He downed the amber liquid in one quick swallow, all the while thinking: Let me count the ways.

J
ulia
fought to quell her disappointment that her husband had arranged for the cabriolet to be readied and for a groom to sit beside her, serving as driver, while Albert sat magnificently astride a horse and led the way. Why was he discarding her? Every time it seemed as though they were returning to the closeness they had once shared, he retreated. While she was certain it was quite ridiculous, she was beginning to wonder if Edward had disparaged her to such an extent on their sojourn that Albert had fallen out of love with her.

The hood of the carriage was raised, buffeting her from the winds, so she couldn't blame them for the tears pricking her eyes. She'd had such hopes for the outing. Now she rather wished that she had simply gone by herself. On the other hand, she wasn't certain that Albert had ever cut such a fine figure on a horse, and when she wasn't being unreasonably hurt—­for surely she was being unreasonable—­she had to admit to taking great satisfaction in observing the confidence with which he rode.

She'd always enjoyed riding, but didn't dare while she was with child. She wanted this child beyond all reasoning, but she was growing rather weary of all the pampering, especially when it was providing opportunity to put distance between her and her husband.

She wanted to scream. Perhaps she was simply going mad, imagining slights that didn't truly exist.

He turned up a road, and they followed. She could see the small house in the distance, the sheep dotting the hill. She was familiar with Rowntree and his family. She brought baskets of food to all the tenants at Christmas.

Albert held up a fisted hand and the groom brought the carriage to a halt. Her husband circled his horse around and came back to the carriage. “Stay here,” he ordered, before dismounting and handing the reins to the groom.

Then he was striding to the cottage. Rowntree stepped out. Although he was nearly as tall as Albert, he was considerably wider, but comparing the two men, she could see clearly that Albert was all muscle and sinew, strength and firmness, while Rowntree had begun to acquire a portly look.

Hearing the tenor of their voices, but not the words, she nearly clutched the groom's hand when it became obvious that Rowntree was becoming belligerent. Suddenly, Albert grabbed the man by the front of his coat and slammed him against the front of the cottage. As Albert leaned in, Rowntree's eyes grew wide and round. Albert's voice was so low that Julia could barely hear it, but still it sent a fissure of unease through her. It must have done the same for Rowntree, as he began frantically bobbing his head. Albert released him, stepped back, straightened the lapels of the man's coat, and patted his beefy shoulder. A few more words were exchanged before the earl spun on his heel, strode back to the carriage and took the reins from the groom.

He held her gaze, brown to blue, and it struck her that he'd never looked at her quite so intently, as though needing to gauge her reaction in order to ensure he pleased her. “Would you still like to go to the village?”

She nodded. “I was thinking a nice cup of tea and a pastry might be a pleasant way to while away the afternoon.”

He gave her a small grin. “I could use some whiling. Let's be off, then.”

Mounting in one fluid movement that had her heart fluttering, he took off while the groom urged their horse to follow. In their time together, she must have seen her husband get on a horse a hundred times, two hundred, so she had no idea why at that moment she considered it one of the most sensual actions she'd ever witnessed. Perhaps because during his absence her life had been so incredibly chaste. She'd certainly not looked at other men or sought out a replacement for him. She'd never been drawn to another man as she was to him. From the moment he'd been introduced, he had completely captured her interest.

Only once had her attention ever waned and then only for the space of a kiss in a garden that never should have happened.

When they entered the village, he brought his horse to a halt in front of the tea shop, dismounted, and walked the horse back. Holding the reins out to the groom, he said, “You can return the horse to Evermore now. I'll drive the carriage back.”

“Yes, m'lord.” The cabriolet rocked as the groom exited.

Albert came around to her side and extended his hand. She placed hers on it, felt the strength and sureness of his fingers closing around hers. “I thought—­”

She stopped, feeling like such a ninny.

Angling his head slightly, he arched a brow. “You thought what?”

Studying his beloved face, she wondered why she was filled with so many doubts. “I thought you'd chosen to ride the horse because you didn't truly want to go on the outing with me.”

Lifting her hand, he pressed a kiss to the back of her gloved fingers. “I'm sorry, Julia. It never occurred to me . . . I wanted to portray a position of authority. I thought being on a horse accomplished that better than being in a carriage.”

She touched her fingers to his jaw. “You looked magnificent. It did frighten me, though, when you grabbed him.”

“He wasn't listening. I had to be more forceful. And to be honest, it pricked my temper when he said I wasn't the man my father was.”

“What did you say to him?”

“That the land he lived on belonged to the Crown and had been placed in the Earl of Greyling's keeping centuries ago. He was there by my good graces and my good graces alone. If he didn't pay what was owed, I would personally pack up him along with his family and cart them off the land. He assured me he would be making restitution within the fortnight and would not be troubling me again.”

“And you believed him?”

“I gave him the benefit of the doubt. If he lied, at the end of the fortnight he's gone. And nothing on God's green earth will put him back in my good graces. I'm not the vengeful sort, but neither am I very forgiving when I'm wronged.”

She'd never known her husband to be so powerful, so determined. This was an aspect to him she'd never seen. It quite fascinated her. “I've never witnessed you conducting your business before.”

“Perhaps it's best if you don't in the future. I wouldn't want you thinking me a tyrant.”

“On the contrary, I respect how you look after what's yours. And I am yours.”

He suddenly appeared uncomfortable, was possibly blushing. Or was it merely the chill in the air?

“We should have some tea now,” he said, helping her out of the carriage.

Offering his arm, he led her into the shop. Above the door, a bell tinkled.

A matronly woman trundled over and curtsied. “Oh, Lord Greyling, I'm sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Potts. The countess and I are in need of some refreshment.”

“Certainly, m'lord. I have your favorite table right over here.” Mrs. Potts made a sweeping gesture with her arm, and a young lady sitting at a small table in the corner by the window gathered up her cup and plate and hurried off.

Albert pulled out the chair for Julia and assisted in seating her before taking his place opposite her at the small square linen-­covered table. The scent of cinnamon, butter, and vanilla hung heavy on the air.

“Will you be wanting your usual lemon tart, m'lord?” Mrs. Potts asked.