What a Wicked Earl Wants (9 page)

“There is more,” Lady Atherton said. Then she told them about his feigned concerns about Laura’s conduct. “He arrived in a hired hack and claimed he was unable to remain in London because of the expense.”

“But my husband left him property and a tidy fortune,” Laura said.

“Does he release your son’s allowance in a timely manner?” Bellingham asked.

“Yes, he’s always been prompt,” she said.

“His financial problems may be recent,” Bellingham said.

“Montclief may despise me, but I know he doesn’t want Justin,” Laura said. “If he’d really wanted him, he would have waited for Justin to come home that day he called.”

The fine hairs on the back of Bell’s neck stiffened. He would say nothing to Laura, but privately he wondered if he’d underestimated Montclief. Bell resolved to make quiet inquiries about the man. He would hire someone to visit the village near Montclief’s property and see what he could dig up.

Bell looked at Laura. “Out of curiosity, where does Montclief live?”

“Sussex,” Laura said, “near the village of Goatham Green. Why do you ask?”

“I just wanted to know how far away he lives from Hampshire.”

“He never comes to Hollwood Abbey anymore,” Laura said.

Long ago, Bell had learned to trust his gut feelings. He would rather err on the side of caution than discover he’d waited too late. But once again, he was getting more involved in her life. He told himself it was only an investigation, one that he would use to reassure her—and himself. The clock struck the hour, reminding him of an appointment. “I must leave,” he said.

As the two women rose, Bell found himself gazing into Laura’s eyes. Belatedly, he realized that Lady Atherton was observing the exchange. He bowed and quit the drawing room. As he strode down the stairs, he vowed that this would be the last time he called on her.

After Bellingham left, Laura sighed. “I am glad for his assistance with Justin, but Bellingham is very high-handed.”

Lady Atherton smiled. “He is accustomed to ruling over everyone and everything in his sphere. It is second nature to a man like him.”

“Phillip was never so willfully authoritative,” Laura said.

“Your late husband was a different sort of man, but Phillip acted swiftly when he encountered injustice or cruelty.” Lady Atherton paused and said, “Speaking of the earl, you do realize that you’re both in a precarious situation.”

“You are such a dear, but you must not be concerned. As much as I dislike the way Bellingham takes over, I admit he managed to curb Justin’s outrageous impulses today. You will shudder when I tell you that Bellingham actually held Justin’s arms behind his back to control him.”

“Oh, my.” Lady Atherton unfurled her fan. “Alfred told me Bellingham takes after his ruthless forebears.”

Laura thought that an exaggeration but said nothing.

“It’s unfortunate that he lost all of his family when he was so young. He used to be carefree and sunny-natured.”

Chill bumps erupted on Laura’s arms. “You told me they died. What happened?”

“They succumbed to consumption. He’d been away at university and rushed home only to find they had already passed.”

“How awful,” Laura said.

“I heard he was in a very bad way, completely distraught. His friends took him away to the Continent.” She released a long sigh. “When he returned two years ago, it was clear to everyone that he had completely changed.” Lady Atherton put her fist to her heart. “I think he is damaged inside. Many think it is irrevocable.”

Laura shook her head. “No, you must not say that.”

“My dear, you were shocked when I told you he refuses to marry, even though all of his property will go to the Crown upon his death.”

“It’s foolish,” she said. “Surely he believes his father would wish him to carry on the earldom.”

“I do not know the answer,” Lady Atherton said. “No one has ever broken through his defenses.”

Laura thought him entirely too bold and imposing, but without Bell’s help, Montclief would have taken Justin away from her.

“His willingness to guide Justin is a hopeful sign,” Lady Atherton said. “It was very gallant of him.”

Laura recalled the way he’d looked at her and the supposedly accidental touches today. Bellingham’s motives were not as pure as Lady Atherton believed.

“He clearly doesn’t believe he needs anyone,” Lady Atherton said, “but perhaps the right woman will open his heart.”

Laura said nothing, but she didn’t think his intentions involved hearts and declarations of love. He was the sort of man who kept a mistress. The sort of man a woman like her should avoid.

Bell sat at his desk reviewing a letter from his banker. At the sound of a knock, he folded the letter and said, “Enter.”

Griffith, his butler, stepped inside. “My lord, a man named Smyth has called.” He produced the card.

“Please show him in,” Bell said, rising.

Smyth entered and bowed. “My lord, I understand you are in need of my investigative services.”

“I am. Please be seated.”

Smyth sat on the edge of his seat. “My lord, how may I assist you?”

“I wish to conduct an investigation into a man by the name of Montclief. He is the guardian of a minor who will formally take control of the title of Viscount Chesfield in four years. For obvious reasons, I wish to conceal the investigation. I wish to gain insight into Montclief’s financial situation, the state of his property at Goatham Green, and to learn how he is perceived among the general populace. I need information about his friends and any other pertinent facts. Are you able to take on this investigation?”

“Yes, my lord. I have conducted similar investigations numerous times and will provide both a verbal and written report upon conclusion of my findings.”

Bell unlocked a desk drawer and produced a hefty purse. “This is for your expenses. Upon satisfactory conclusion, you will receive four hundred pounds. I might add that you should spare no detail in your report, however mundane it might at first appear. Send me preliminary reports as they become available. Do you have any questions?”

“No, my lord. Your instructions are clear.”

After Smyth left, Bell locked the desk drawer. He wanted to be prepared in the event Montclief became a threat to Laura and her son. Long ago, Bell had learned to trust his instincts, and the information he’d gleaned from Lady Atherton had made him doubly suspicious. The investigation might yield nothing of significance, but he’d rather be safe than sorry.

B
ell met Colin and Harry at White’s and ordered a bottle of brandy for the table. After Bell opened a gold case, he offered his friends a cheroot. They sat smoking in silence for a while. Bell’s thoughts turned to a fantasy of Laura in a bath. His blood heated as he imagined parting her thighs and exploring between the plump folds of her sex. He would make her come and then he’d lift her out and apply a towel while he licked water droplets off strategic areas of her slim body. That would require getting her naked and in a bath.

The devil, what was he thinking? She was a proper widow and a vicar’s daughter, not his type at all. His type of woman was improper. She was willing to do anything as long as he showered her with jewels and ball gowns. She was skilled in the sensual arts and completely predictable. Just like his last mistress, Marguerite—boring.

Laura was not boring. In fact, she wasn’t predictable at all. Granted, she was proper, but he couldn’t anticipate what she would say or do. She most certainly did not like it when he took control over matters, but he was accustomed to taking care of problems. And her son was a problem.

But her son was not
his
problem. So why did Bell keep thinking about the young buck? Why the devil was he so obsessed with Laura and her son? She’d released him from any obligation. It was past time he pushed them both out of his mind.

Unfortunately, the harder he tried to forget her, the more he thought about her. He kept remembering the lush kisses he’d shared with Laura. Usually he could walk away from a woman without a care, but for some reason, he couldn’t get the feel and taste of her out of his head.

He inhaled from his cheroot and recalled her shock when he’d slid his tongue home. He rather liked that he’d taught her a few things and that she’d responded with such abandon. When he thought about the feel of her soft body pressed against him, his groin tightened again. The devil, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman this badly.

“Are you sickening?” Harry said.

His voice interrupted Bell’s pleasurable musings. “No, I’m thinking.”

Colin smirked. “Looks like he’s in lust. What say you, Harry?”

“Cupid has definitely struck,” Harry said.

“Cupid is about love, not lust,” Bell muttered.

“You’re wrong,” Colin said. “The Romans said a shot from the arrow caused uncontrollable desire.”

Bell blew out a smoke ring. “Uncontrollable? What if there is no ladylove available? What does the poor sot do?”

Harry fisted his hand and made an up-and-down motion. The officious waiter returned. “Sir, did you need something else?”

Colin choked on his brandy. Bell’s shoulders shook with laughter.

“No, thank you,” Harry said to the waiter.

When the waiter left, Bell guffawed.

“Gad, Harry,” Colin said. “Try to control yourself.”

Harry pulled a face. “And you don’t do it? Ha!”

Colin regarded Bell with disgust. “Look what you started.”

“Me?” Bell said. “I’m not the one demonstrating hand relief in the damned club.”

Harry grinned. “I could give lessons.”

“No,” Bell and Colin said simultaneously.

“It was a jest,” Harry said.

Bell blew out another smoke ring and looked at Colin. “Harry is good for something. I just can’t remember what.”

“I am indeed,” Harry said. “By the by, I met up with Pembroke. He danced with Lady Chesfield at Lady Atherton’s ball and said he plans to call on her.”

Bell suspended his glass halfway to his mouth and scowled. “What?”

His friends stared at him.

Colin set his glass down. “Why do you care if he calls on her? You said she was proper. What would you do with a proper woman?”

“I’m not doing anything with her,” he grumbled. But he’d like to do something with her, something hot and sweaty.

“Right,” Colin said, winking at Harry.

“I ought to have known,” Harry said. “Women always fall for brooding men.”

“I don’t brood,” Bell said.

Colin shrugged. “You look like you brood.”

“My girl cousins said ladies find brooding men dangerous and romantic,” Harry said. “Maybe I should practice it.”

“By all means,” Bell said. “We’ll judge how well you display brooding tendencies.”

Harry curled his lip and looked up from beneath his thick brows.

Bell snorted. “I need another drink after that horrid demonstration.” He put out his cheroot and refilled the glasses.

“So have you seen the widow’s wild son again?” Colin asked.

He nodded. “Today I called on Lady Chesfield. I thought she should know her son was out carousing again.”

His friends stared at him as if he’d grown horns.

“He’s getting into trouble. His mother is having difficulty managing him, and his guardian is a prize ass,” Bell said.

Colin eyed Harry. “He’s trying to get in the widow’s good graces.”

“No, he’s trying to get under her skirts,” Harry said.

“Don’t start. I already told you she’s a lady,” Bell said with a warning in his voice.

“You’re leaving out more than a few details,” Colin said.

“Watch out,” Harry said. “Pembroke is bearing down on you, Bell. He looks quite determined.”

“Thanks for the forewarning,” Bell said, and sipped his brandy.

“Bellingham.”

He heard Pembroke’s voice and slowly raised his bored gaze to the short, balding man.

Pembroke took the chair next to him and regarded him sternly. “I understand your carriage was seen at Lady C
he
sfield’s home yesterday.”

“Your point?” Bell said.

He inhaled as if to say something. Then he exhaled. “She’s a respectable widow.”

“I’m aware of that.” He swirled his brandy. “Is that all?”

“No,” he said with vehemence in his voice. “If you must know, I have conceived a partiality for her.”

“Does she know?”

He huffed. “I danced with her and plan to call.”

Bell sipped his drink. “Good luck getting admittance to her drawing room.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s not interested in suitors. In fact, she told me she doesn’t wish to marry. We share that in common,” he said.

“See here,” Pembroke said. “She’s not one of your light skirts. I plan to court her, and I won’t allow you to seduce her.”

“Maybe they should fight,” Harry said.

Colin shook his head. “It wouldn’t be sporting. Bell is twice his size.”

Pembroke’s face turned crimson. “Are you insulting my manhood?”

Harry looked at Colin. “Would we do that?”

“Never,” Colin said.

“You’re taunting me,” Pembroke said.

Bell groaned. “You’re annoying me.” He made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go on, now.”

Pembroke’s nostrils flared. “I claimed her first.”

“I’ll be sure to inform her,” he said.

Pembroke stood. “Well, I plan to warn her about your rakehell past.”

“Feel free to tattle,” Bell drawled. “I’m sure she’ll be impressed.”

Pembroke glared at him. “Always cool as a cucumber, but this time you won’t win.”

“If you were so sure of that, you wouldn’t have bothered to warn me,” Bell said.

“This isn’t the last of it,” Pembroke said.

Bell yawned. “Pembroke, go bore someone else.”

After the man strode off, Colin said, “Good Lord, he’s smitten.”

“Who?” Harry said.

“Don’t be a nodcock,” Colin said. “Pembroke.”

“I thought you meant Bell. He doesn’t look smitten,” Harry said.

“Of course he’s not,” Colin said in exasperation.

Bell rolled his eyes. “Wonderful. I have a jealous rival.”

“So there
is
something between you and Lady Chesfield,” Harry said.

“Oh, yes,” Bell said. “Her son.” The boy’s anger yesterday was out of bounds. Bell had never imagined he’d have to physically restrain Justin. “I’ve hired someone to investigate the uncle. I hope to find some dirt in the event he tries to take the boy away from her.”

Colin whistled. “Sounds serious.”

“I may not find anything, but Montclief strikes me as the type to have secrets.”

“You’ll use the investigation to help out Lady Chesfield?” Harry said.

“If I find something, yes. I didn’t like the way he browbeat her. He’s a nasty sort.”

Colin scowled. “The devil. Here comes Lord Gossip.”

Bell glanced up to see Lindmoore hurrying toward them. “Why is everyone so bent on intruding tonight?”

“It’s the widow,” Harry said. “Everyone is curious about her, and your carriage was spotted at her town house.”

For some odd reason, Bell didn’t like all the speculation about Laura. Damnation, was he actually feeling protective of her? Maybe he was sickening after all.

“Well, well,” Lindmoore said as he approached. “I heard an interesting tale about you, Bellingham.”

Bell yawned. “The queue is a long one, but feel free to join it.”

Lindmoore tittered. “You always have a clever retort, but I have to ask if the rumor is true.”

“Which one?” he said.

“There’s more?” Lindmoore said, his eyes gleaming.

“Usually, yes,” Bell said.

“This one concerns you and the lovely widow, Lady Chesfield,” he said, pitching his voice louder. “I’ve heard you’ve already made a conquest.”

Other men at nearby tables turned to stare.

When Lindmoore leaned his hand on the table, Bell rose. “Surely you do not mean to slander a respectable lady’s reputation?”

Lindmoore’s face turned ashen. “No, of course I—”

Bell drew closer. “You will apologize for the mistake.”

“Begging your pardon,” he said, his face suddenly gone pasty. “I meant no insult to the lady.”

“I’m not fond of dawn meetings,” Bell said. “It interferes with my sleep. I trust you will refrain from speaking about her in the future?”

Lindmoore held up his hands. “Of course. My apologies for the, er, misunderstanding.”

Bell regarded him in disgust. “Go.”

Lindmoore hurried off.

“I was worried there for a bit,” Colin said. “Thought he’d piss himself.”

“Maybe we should enter a pissing contest in the betting book,” Harry said.

“No,” Bell and Colin said simultaneously.

“You’re no fun,” Harry said.

Colin pulled a face. “I can’t believe you bother to read the betting book.”

“It’s entertaining,” Harry said.

“Never mind,” Bell said. “I’m weary of this place. Let’s repair to my town house.”

After they reached Bell’s town house, he led his friends to the billiards room. “Your choice of cue sticks,” he said.

“I want one of these,” Harry said, patting the table.

“You have no money,” Colin said.

“I can dream,” Harry said. “Who knows? If I inherit my uncle’s pig farm, maybe I’ll be rich one day.”

“You can live in the lap of luxury and black sows,” Colin said.

Bell poured drinks and handed them round to his friends. “The two of you play a game. I’ll watch.” He indicated a mahogany side table. “You can set your glasses on the pewter dish.”

Harry set up the balls while Colin chose a cue stick. Bell sat in a black armchair with gold trim, stretched out his legs, and sipped his brandy. “When you finish the game, we can take a smoke break in the garden.”

Harry sighted a ball, gave it a smooth tap, and sent it straight into the pocket.

“You’re accomplished,” Bell said, admiring Harry’s skill.

“My third cousin twice removed owns a billiards table. He’s richer than Croesus.”

“Maybe you have a chance at the dukedom,” Colin said.

“No, there are two other relatives ahead of me,” Harry said. “Truthfully, I like the old duke. He tells hysterical stories of his youthful years wearing striped breeches and the ladies with vermin in their tall wigs.”

Colin sighted a ball. When he tapped it, the ball narrowly missed the pocket. “Damn.”

While his friends continued to play and heckle one another, Bell’s thoughts returned to that moment in White’s when Lindmoore had said he’d heard Bell had made a conquest of Laura. He’d never worried about anyone following him before, but then he’d never had to use care with the reputations of his mistresses. They were sophisticated women who had a string of past lovers as long as his own. They were not devoted mothers who fought to keep their sons safe from wild friends and uncaring guardians.

The first time he’d called on Laura, he’d relished the prospect of chasing her until she surrendered. But there was a great deal at stake. Even if Laura was willing, there was no way to conduct a discreet liaison when she was the latest
on dit
. Pursuing her wasn’t a mere challenge; it was nigh impossible when she had a son and others had marked his carriage at her town house. If news of an
affaire de coeur
leaked, it would destroy her reputation and possibly end in the loss of her son. He couldn’t ruin her life for a temporary love affair.

The
clack, clack, clack
of balls scattering on the green baize table brought Bell back to the present. He had been brooding, damn it.

Harry crowed as the balls sank into the pockets.

“Rematch,” Colin said, slinging his arm around Harry’s neck.

A huff of laughter escaped Bell. Somehow the pair always managed to lighten his gloomy moods. “Let’s go to the garden. I need a cheroot.”

His friends followed him.

“You don’t smoke inside the house?” Harry said.

“Lord, no. It makes my eyes water,” Bell said.

“You could just open a window,” Colin said.

“And let in all that stinky coal smell?” Bell said. “Have you lost your wits?”

For some bizarre reason, his friends guffawed.

Bell found the tinderbox he kept on the stone garden bench. After he managed a spark, he lit one of the lanterns in the trees and then lit his cheroot. His friends joined him and said nothing for a while. Bell appreciated their silence.

Colin blew a smoke ring. “About the widow. Why did you call on her again if you don’t intend to make her your mistress?”

For a moment, he was stunned speechless, but he had to say something. “She’s alone. I wanted to make sure there were no problems.”