The Exception of an Earl

by Deborah Wilson

  What if he hadn’t let her go?

  What if he’d slid one of her hands into her hair and the other he used to force her chin up?

  What if his mouth had descended?

  She remembered how his breath had played on her skin and felt a moment of lightheadedness.

  “Cammie?” Emily called.

  Sweet Cammie. She wanted him to call her that again.

  She blinked and smiled at Emily.

  Then her brother came in, followed by Sir William Husher.

  Her brother was cool as he introduced Will to his wife and then to Camilla.

  When her brother moved to sit, Camilla protested. “I can’t work with you here.”

  Her brother frowned and sat next to his wife. “You don’t actually expect me to leave you in a room with him, do you?”

  Emily gasped. “Luke, don’t offend our guest.”

  “I take no offense.” Will grinned. “Every lady needs someone to protect her.”

  Their eyes met and Camilla’s smile grew.

  Will hadn’t looked happy when he’d walked into the drawing room, but she watched his eyes soften and her heart fluttered. Silently, she wondered if she was the cause, but she imagined it was her brother’s words that had him grinning.

  Luke turned to Camilla. “Ask him your questions. Let’s get on with this.”

  “Can’t you at least sit in the parlor across the hall?”

  “No.”

  “We’ll leave the doors open—”

  “No.”

  “Luke!”

  “Camilla, you’ve an hour for this and then he leaves.” Her brother had a serious look in his eyes. He would not bend.

  Emily looked startled by their argument. It was likely that she’d never raised her voice to Luke. Wives were supposed to be compliant.

  Little sisters were not, especially when older brothers had never discouraged them from speaking their opinion.

  She adored Luke. Her Mr. Reevas.

  But now it was time to work on another hero.

  Camilla sat down and motioned for Will to sat next to her. “Would you like some tea?”

  Will shook his head. There was more than a foot of space between them and yet he still seemed close. Camilla wondered if her mind was playing tricks on her because the furniture seemed nearly miniature around him.

  She felt small, and she was not a small woman.

  “I’m not sure how I can help you,” Will said.

  “You’re already doing it.”

  “In what way is he helping you?” Luke asked, his eyes jumping from one to the other. “He just stepped into the room.”

  Emily took a deep breath. “Dear, why don’t you and I go sit by the window and talk about something else? We can stay in the room, but they can speak alone.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Surely, there is no harm to her reputation if we remain in the room. We both want Camilla’s book to publish this time.”

  Luke rolled his eyes and stood. “Very well.” He held his hand out to Emily but kept his eyes on Camilla and Will and continued to do so as he crossed the room.

  Will turned so his back was slightly to her brother. He was fighting a smile and coughed into his fist. In the light of day, he seemed like a completely different man. There was nothing broody about his manner and his eyes…

  “Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are like green olives or serpentine? They have one on display at the British Museum along with many other stones. I love the displays. Why are you staring at me like that?”

  He smiled and Camilla’s mouth fell open.

  Dimples.

  She swallowed. The man had dimples.

  How was it even fair?

  His smile fell. “What?”

  She shook her head. “You do your face a disservice when you brood.” Though that wasn’t true. He was still just as beautiful no matter what he did.

  She reached for her journal.

  Dimples. Treasures that only reveal themselves to those willing to search for them.

  The couch groaned as he moved closer. The cushion dipped as he looked down at what she’d written.

  His scent hit her at full force and she pulled in a breath.

  He hovered over her, and Camilla looked at his face from this new angle.

  There was a shadow of a beard. The skin looked rough.

  She had the sudden urge to rub herself against that skin. How would it feel against her fingers?

  How would it feel elsewhere?

  “Oh, so he gets to read the book, but I don’t?” Her brother shouted from the other side of the room.

  “Luke,” Emily whispered.

  “Camilla, lean away from the… gentleman.”

  Camilla’s face reddened. Her brother had been about to call him a commoner. She knew it.

  And Will must have known it as well.

  He chuckled.

  She stared at his smile and then his nose. There was a scar. “You’ve a line right across the bridge. I didn’t notice it until you...”

  His smile fell away.

  “No, don’t stop. I like it.” She reached her hand out and stopped.

  Her words didn’t restore his smile. Instead, it appeared she’d brought out Husher, the man from last night.

  He seemed to have two sides and this side was hostile and appeared to want to…

  What?

  She didn’t know what he wanted to do, but his eyes were intent as they held her gaze.

  They darkened.

  “Camilla!”

  She dropped her hand and looked over at her brother. Her cheeks stung.

  Her brother looked pale. “I can’t do this. This meeting is over.”

  Will stood.

  Camilla did as well. “Wait. I need more.”

  “No, I have to go,” Will said. “I’m sorry.” He turned then to her brother and sister-in-law. “Thank you for your time, my lord.” Then, with a sweeping bow to everyone, he left.

  “Luke!” Camilla cried when she heard the front door close. “That was entirely rude.”

  Her brother crossed the room. “You think I don’t know what’s going on here?” His color had returned and was tinted red.

  Camilla frowned. “What? I don’t…”

  “I saw the way you were flirting with each other. You are not marrying a commoner.”

  “He’s a knight.” Camilla shook her head.

  “A knight, born of a common naval man and baker.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You got more out of him in your meeting than I did in mine. He was here for me.”

  “Oh, I bet he was! He’s no good for you. I’ve seen his sort, Camilla. I know the sort of man he is. You need a nice man, a quiet lord like Nelson.”

  Not Nelson again.

  She lifted her hands. “Honestly, Luke, I’m not trying to marry anyone, so all of this doesn’t matter. He didn’t come here to court me. He’s only here to help me with my book.”

  Luke lifted a brow. “My darling Cammie. That man wants much more than your book. He’s not to come here anymore. I’ll not let him tempt you into forgetting your place. It’s a terrible fall, Camilla. You don’t want to be one of those ladies who marries for love only to regret it later.”

  Camilla didn’t know what to say.

  Emily took Luke’s arm. “I married you because I love you.”

  The act was done with a boldness Camilla had never seen before.

  And apparently, neither had Luke.

  He tried to speak and failed repeatedly.

  Emily smiled. “And I’ll never regret it.”

  Luke closed his eyes. He was grinning before they opened again. He took Emily’s hand and pressed an endearing kiss to the back of it. “I’ll make sure you never do.”

  Camilla took a step back.

  Her brother turned his head. “But this is different. I’m an earl.”

  “It’s a courtesy title,” Camilla reminded him.

  “I’ll be a marquess one day,” he reminded her.
“And that… former Yeomen of the Guard will be…”

  “Yeomen of the Guard?” Emily asked.

  Luke turned to her. “What did you think we were speaking about in my office? I wanted to know who the man was before I introduced him to you. He was knighted after the war.”

  The women gasped.

  Luke’s gaze became skittish as he lowered his voice. “Apparently... the royal family likes him. Wellington recommended him for the position of Queen’s bodyguard.”

  “He knows Wellington and the royal family?” Emily asked.

  “Luke!” Camilla cried. “It doesn’t matter who he knows. How dare you treat a soldier so poorly? Or anyone for that matter?” Camilla hadn’t known about Will’s past.

  And now, she likely never would. Her brother had sent him away.

  “Oh, Luke, we must invite him to dinner,” Emily said. “Imagine the stories he has to tell us.”

  Luke frowned. ‘They’re likely stories not meant for the ears of women.”

  “Oh, please,” Emily begged. “We can have a small gathering. I wish to know more about him. If Wellington thought so highly of him, we should as well.”

  Luke struggled with indecision before he sighed. “All right. We’ll have a dinner.”

  Camilla clapped her hands but then frowned. “Do you know where to send the invitation?”

  Luke glared at her. “Of course, I do. You think I’m going to let that man anywhere near you without getting everything out of him?”

  “Does he live in Mayfair?” Emily asked.

  Luke’s expression grew sheepish again. “Actually, he’s staying with the Duke and Duchess of Van Dero.”

  Camilla had heard enough. “Luke, I pray Sir Will does not tell the duke how terribly he was treated here today.”

  Suddenly, Luke looked nervous.

  Emily looked nervous as well.

  Camilla gathered her things. “I’m ready to go.”

  “Home?” Luke said. “Mother’s likely awake at this hour.”

  “That’s all right. I’ve another party to go to this evening. My abigail will need time to curl my hair.”

  Emily asked, “May I chaperone you tonight?” She looked at Luke. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

  Camilla grinned at the prospect. Emily had never asked her that before.

  Luke thought it over and then nodded. “At least I’ll have no fear of you falling asleep,” he said to his wife.

  “Why don’t you both come?” Camilla asked.

  Luke shook his head. “No, I made other plans this evening, but you both go and have fun.”

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  1 0

  * * *

  Will walked into The Swinging Door that night and was greeted by the rowdy laughter and jeering of the dockworkers and laundresses who frequented the tavern.

  The floorboards creaked as he moved deep into the dark smoky room. There was a violinist playing. The notes were off and well worn, which matched the voice of the woman who sang some sad song.

  Will wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Here, amongst the commoners, was where he fit in most.

  When the bitter memory of his visit to Lord Tolkin’s home rose, he shoved it down and took in a deep breath of the sour tobacco and ale that clung to the air.

  He recognized many in the room. He shook some hands and patted some shoulders. Old man Lyne offered to buy Will his first pint. “Sit! Sit!” the man encouraged.

  Will chuckled. The cost was never anything more than listening to Lyne repeat stories from long ago.

  Sometimes, Will took him up on his offer. He smiled and listened to Lyne go on and on about love lost and the happiness of being a grandfather.

  Any money Lyne spent on him, Will always made sure to slip back into the man’s pocket.

  He knew Lyne didn’t have much and Will had plenty. If he weren’t on business tonight, he’d have given Lyne the company he wished but not tonight.

  Besides, there were others at Lyne’s table. The man would not be alone.

  “Not tonight, old man.” Will patted his shoulder and continued on.

  His friends were already positioned at their table in the back.

  Will had barely taken his seat before Sally Niven swung her hips over and thumped a bowl of stew in front of him. Some of the stew spilled onto the table. Sally glared as she held out a spoon.

  Will grinned and took it. Taking a spoonful, he let the saucy concoction sit on his tongue before chewing the meat and swallowing. “It’s good.”

  “Just good?” The rotund woman pointed a finger at him. “I slaved over that stew.”

  “It’s really good.”

  She thumped her hands on the table and leaned over him. “What’s it missing?”

  Will’s friends chuckled as he had another taste. “Rosemary.”

  Sally snatched the bowl and spoon away before leaving the table.

  “Can’t you ever just tell her it’s the best meal you’ve ever had?” Dutton asked. He was a short but burly fellow with dark eyes that almost held a smile.

  Will shrugged. “She wants the truth even if she never likes it.”

  “He’s never had to charm a woman,” Morris said to Dutton. He was tall and thin, but both men were excellent soldiers. Will would miss working with them.

  Morris turned to Will even as he continued to speak to Dutton. “With looks like his, he’s never had to work for it.”

  His ale was brought over by a barmaid who gave him a suggestive smile before she walked away. She was new. Pretty for someone from East London.

  Nothing like Camilla, whose skin seemed so clean Will was sure he’d soil it if he touched her.

  She’d almost touched him that morning. Her fingers had wavered by his jaw.

  That she would dare had aroused Will more than anything else.

  He’d had women touch him everywhere, bare themselves before him, yet a woman in a high-collared dress nearly had him panting like a flea-ridden mutt.

  “See?” Morris banged his fist on the food. “Everything comes easy for this one.”

  “Not true.” Will couldn’t have Camilla.

  Her brother had taken one look at him and seen everything there was to see. He wasn’t just a commoner. He was a rake. All one needed to do was ask the last lady Will had touched.

  He’d stayed clear of upper-class women since then.

  “I spoke to Landcastle,” Dutton suddenly said. “He said you’re not working for him anymore. He said we’ll have to answer to someone else. Is that true? Are you no longer a guard?”

  Will’s stomach tightened. He was glad Landcastle hadn’t told them everything.

  He didn’t want to be an earl. He wanted to be what he was. A soldier.

  “First Raven and now you,” Morris said when Will didn’t answer. He sighed. “It seems things are always changing.”

  It was exactly what Will felt. Things were always changing and rarely for the better.

  When his parents died, Will had followed Raven to the military. Then they’d both become Yeomen of the Guard before also working for Van Dero.

  But now Raven worked for the duke and Will…

  His stomach turned.

  “How is Raven?” Dutton asked. “I don’t see him around here anymore. Has he gotten too good for the likes of us?” There was as much humor as accusation in Dutton’s tone.

  “He’s up north,” Will said, after taking a long swig from the ale. “He doesn’t get down here often.”

  “But you’ll still come around, won’t you?” Morris asked. “You aren’t going to leave as Raven did.”

  “Of course not,” Will quickly declared.

  The men nodded.

  “Why are you leaving?” Dutton asked.

  Will shrugged. “Landcastle doesn’t want me anymore.” He let his reside in his voice as he waved for more ale.

  “What?” Morris sounded outraged. “That’s can’t be true. You’re the best of us all. That’s why he put you in
charge.”

  “He said I was reckless.”

  “You are,” Morris agreed. “But you got Mr. Hennison, didn’t you? Dutton and I didn’t.”

  “You would have eventually,” Will said confidently. Morris and Dutton were no fools. They’d earned their place in the palace.

  “You took up residence in the man’s house,” Dutton said with a chuckle. “I’d never have been so bold.”

  Will shrugged. “I needed a place to sleep and the grass didn’t suit me.”

  “Where are you sleeping now?” Morris asked. “Patience thought you’d be renting the room out again.” Morris had used his money well and bought a boardinghouse. His wife Patience actually did the daily running of the place, since he was often gone. Will usually rented a room there while in town.

  There was no way Will would confess his new address.

  “I found another place, closer to my new assignment.”

  That got their attention.

  Dutton leaned forward. “Are you working for someone else? What’s the assignment?”

  Will tapped his cup. He could share what he was up to with these two men. He placed a finger on his lips before removing it. “I’m looking for the Queen of Poisons.”

  Their eyes widened, but they said nothing after that, understanding his signal for discretion.

  Morris blew out a breath and then shook his head. His gaze changed as he studied Will, becoming nearly mournful.

  They’d all known a man who’d gone after the Queen of Poisons before. Landcastle had wanted her a few years ago. The soldier and his whole family had died at the dinner table.

  The authorities had thought it an accident of sorts, but Landcastle and his men had known otherwise.

  Landcastle never went for the woman again.

  But Will already had a lead. Van Dero knew who the woman was. Gloria, a woman presumed dead a year ago, yet a few months ago, some of her fare had been used to kill a room full of lords at a party in Oxford.

  Van Dero doubted the poison had come from elsewhere. This was Gloria’s work.

  Will had to find her.

  Camilla’s father was also being followed but only because he was boldly asking after the woman in the less savory parts of London. What the man was mixed up in, no one knew, but Van Dero hoped Lord Hornstein would lead them to Gloria before Gloria killed him and everyone he loved.