The Exception of an Earl

by Deborah Wilson

  “Why shouldn’t it? They’re happy together.”

  “Are they?”

  She frowned and something unsettling slithered in her belly. “Of course, they are.”

  He stiffened. His eyes flashed. He leaned away. “I didn’t mean to offend. I was only asking how you knew they were happy.”

  She wanted to tell him that she hadn’t been offended by his question, but she had. “Well, they smile at one another. They don’t fight. At least, I’ve never heard them raise their voices.”

  “Is that a mark of happiness? Not fighting?” His question seemed honest enough.

  Camilla sighed and thought. Then she thought some more and realized… She didn’t know a great deal about happiness. “I’m not sure what happiness is.”

  He stared at her for another moment and then looked down at her book. “Tell me, will he be happy? My character?”

  She ran her hands over the red leather cover and nodded. “I believe so. I want him to be.”

  “Is that what the book is about? Him being happy?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve never written a romance before and most of the stories I know don’t end happily. Romeo and Juliet. Paris and Helen—”

  “This one should.”

  She lifted her gaze and smiled. “You think so?”

  He inclined his head again. “Tell me about your story.”

  “I don’t have much.” She bit her lip and that terrible feeling in her belly returned. She didn’t want to tell him what the story was about. She didn’t want yet another person telling her how terrible a writer she was.

  “My first book was so easy to capture and turn into words. I’d imagined every page long before it ever become a book. It had moved like a dream.” Her dream.

  She’d been inspired by hope. Foolish hope, her brother had told her. She’d wanted a good father.

  “Do you dream of romance?” he asked.

  “What woman doesn’t?” She tried to keep her expression light, though a heaviness settled over her.

  “But?” His eyes searched her. “I can tell you’re hiding something.”

  “Can you?”

  He nodded. “I would never claim to have the same fascination with people as you do, but I can sense when someone is hiding a secret.”

  “Isn’t everyone hiding something?”

  He looked over to where the duchess and the other women stood. “I suppose…”

  “What are you hiding?” She lifted a brow. “This is all for the book, of course.”

  He laughed and looked at her again. “Of course, but let’s not change the subject. There will be plenty of time to get to know me. Finish your thoughts on romance.”

  She shook her head and gave him a grim smile. “It’s not the most ladylike thought.”

  He lifted and dropped his shoulder. “Some would say it was not ladylike for you to write books, it being an occupation of sorts.” He lowered his voice and then turned toward the duchess once more. “Some would even say it wasn’t very ladylike to sneak into dark alleys and kiss boys who barely know what they’re doing.”

  She stopped breathing as she thought over his words. She let them run wild in her mind over and over again. “Lord Anthony is twenty-five, hardly a boy.”

  “Yet you’re not writing about Lord Anthony Lund, are you?”

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  1 5

  * * *

  Will had caught her off guard, and he gave her a moment to think of her answer.

  His eyes shifted to a man in the distance who was coming their way. The stranger walked at a slow pace, his strides casual. There were a few other people in the park, but something about this man...

  Camilla stared at Will with a look of puzzled amusement. “I suppose you’re right. I’m not writing about Lord Anthony, but I’m not necessarily writing about you either. You’re simply find… muse.” She held the book in her lap in a tight grip, as though it were a weapon or her salvation.

  It was important to her. He hadn’t known just how much until this moment. She didn’t need the money, so he’d assumed the book was just for fun. And maybe it was. Maybe she was someone who took her fun very seriously. But she didn’t seem the sort to restrict herself in such a way. She seemed to crave freedom. Danger.

  She was sitting with him, after all.

  Even as she sat before him with her hair pinned away from her face and a bonnet with a wealth of blue ribbons that blew in the air, he knew her pretty wrapping held something fierce inside.

  She lifted her eyes. The innocence and desperation he glimpsed in her pale moon eyes were startling. How could someone so beautiful know nothing about happiness?

  What made her so sad? Was sadness the opposite of happiness?

  He didn’t think she was sad. He didn’t want to think her sad.

  Another sad woman… Hopefully, he’d not been the cause of this one.

  He began to play with a blade of grass and then he ripped it out and rubbed it between his fingers. He kept his eyes low as he asked, “What about me inspired you?” He searched the park for the stranger again but didn’t see him.

  Camilla gripped his attention again. “Your words in the alley.” She sighed. “And the way you said them and the look on your face when you talk.”

  He looked at her. “What look?”

  “That look. It’s like you’re trying to figure everything out, figure the world out.” She narrowed her eyes and grinned. “It’s… innocent.”

  He barked a laugh. “If I told you half the things I’ve done, you wouldn’t think that.”

  She shook her head. “No, I mean you’re curious, is all. I sense bravery in you, the sort that is crushed by Society once you grow old enough to realize…”

  “That life doesn’t always go the way you want… or even dreamed.”

  She pulled in a deep breath and nodded.

  He flung the grass away. “You think I’m brave.” He said it before she could ask about the dream of his that had been crushed.

  “Surely, I’m not the first to tell you as much,” she said.

  “I’ve been called reckless as of late.” He spotted the man again, emerging from behind a tree. He was closer. Then he stopped a lady with a dog for a friendly chat.

  “I sense that, too,” Camilla said.

  “What?” His mind was being pulled in two directions.

  “I think you’re reckless.” Her little tongue stroked the corner of her mouth and Will surrendered his mind fully to her.

  “What makes you so sure I’m reckless or brave?” He sowed doubt into his tone and pulled his brows together. “What makes you think you can figure me out?”

  “I like people. I write about them. They fascinate me. Learning their habits and nature is what I do.” She shrugged. “I’ve created so many characters and have written so many stories.” She cringed at the last.

  He didn’t ask her why.

  She bit the corner of her lip as she studied him, her muse. “Reckless? Yes, I see that. You nearly compromised me in the alley. What would have happened if my father caught you?”

  He leaned forward. “I’ll tell you what would have happened.” His voice remained calm even as his heart pumped wildly. “Your father would have rushed you away and told me to not breathe a word about it. You know it’s true. I’m common. He wouldn’t have called the authorities for fear of spoiling your reputation.”

  “My father wouldn’t have called the authorities,” she agreed, but her tone said there was another reason for that.

  He didn’t inquire. Their topic had moved to things he’d rather not discuss.

  “Your mother was a baker?” she asked. “That’s what you told my brother.”

  “A cook. A baker. A magician in the kitchen. With the amount of food I ate, I should be rotund.”

  She laughed. “Instead, your meals appear to have gone to all the best places.”

  He became instantly hard.

  She gasped and covered her face with her book. “I d
idn’t mean…”

  He chuckled and leaned back onto the blanket, bringing his knee up to block the sight of his growing member. “Are you sure you wish to keep me as your muse? I wouldn’t be offended if you changed your mind.”

  “Why would I change my mind?” she asked.

  He placed his head on his face and tucked his hands behind his head before he closed his eyes. “I can’t think of anyone who’d wish to read my story.”

  “But I’m not writing your story,” she said. “You’re my muse. It’s… abstract. It’s you, but not you.”

  “It’s me as someone else? Like me in another world.”

  “Yes.” She smiled.

  He moved his hat to her chest so he could look at her. “Is this man titled?”

  “I’m not sure. He could be gentry. Wealthy, like Mr. Darcy.”

  He grunted. He was definitely no Mr. Darcy. “Let’s go back to your hopes and dreams.” He wondered if he’d been in any of the present ones. But only as her muse, he reminded himself. “You didn’t finish your statement before. You dream of romance, but…”

  She lowered her book just enough for their eyes to meet. Then the rest of the way. She bit the corner of her mouth and then wrinkled her nose. Her voice was breathy, like the wind that whipped her ribbons. “I can’t say it out loud. A lady shouldn’t think it, much less say it to a gentleman.”

  He wanted to tell her that she could tell him anything and that he’d never breathe a word of it to anyone else. Yet, he’d learned that in his line of work, that wasn’t always the case. If it was something that could get her hurt, he’d tell someone. He’d tell her father or brother or even Van Dero. Her safety was more important.

  Romance in itself wasn’t dangerous, but it could be. “Have you been intimate with someone?”

  She paled and he opened his mouth to apologize, but then movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. The woman with the dog passed them and when Will looked over, the stranger’s strides were heading in a direction Will didn’t like.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  1 6

  * * *

  Camilla had been studying Will before he’d asked his question. Her gaze had traced down the slope of his forehead, over the bridge of his straight nose, to the lips that puckered and her thoughts had become so wanton she’d feared he could see it.

  “Have you been intimate with someone?”

  She stiffened and then gasped as he got on his knees. He leaned forward and came close to her face. Camilla didn’t take another breath until Will was on his feet.

  “Wait here,” he said. “Don’t move.”

  The command was startling.

  She watched him jog over to the duchess… and intercept a man who’d been about to approach her. She watched as the other gentleman took Will’s hand right before his smile turned into a grimace of pain. Was Will hurting him?”

  The duchess, Lady Elisa, and Ruth were all unaware of what was going on. They were looking into the baby carriage.

  The man fought to hide his discomfort as Will let his hand go… only to place one on the man’s shoulder and direct him to a thick line of trees. He looked at the two guards nearby and motioned for them to keep an eye on the duchess. Then he turned to Camilla.

  She quickly put on a smile and waved as he motioned for her to stay on the blanket.

  The moment he looked away, she stood and followed. She made it to the trees and heard a grunt of pain. She could see nothing, but she heard Will’s voice. “One last time. What’s your name?”

  There was wheezing from the other man. “I’m… Mr. Nast.”

  “And what is it you were hoping to get from the duchess, Mr. Nast?”

  Camilla peeped around her tree and saw the other man’s face. He appeared to be in his forties. Mr. Nast’s hat had fallen to the ground. His hair was black with white fluttering through the short strands. He was still struggling to breathe as he leaned against a tree with his hand on his belly.

  Will was out of view behind another tree. Neither man saw her.

  “She’s a duchess,” Mr. Nast said with a troubled expression. “I just wanted to speak to her, have a story to tell my wife when I got home.”

  Camilla frowned as a bitter taste filled her mouth. Why was Will hurting this man?

  She thought about her brother’s disapproval of him and wondered if she should go get help when something caught her eye. There was a knife in Will’s hand.

  “I hate liars.” Will moved into view.

  Camilla opened her mouth. She wanted to shout but couldn’t. Fear gripped her at the sight of the weapon. Flashes from the past entered her mind.

  Her mother and father were fighting. Her mother lifted the blade much like the one Will held.

  Mr. Nast lifted his hands. “All right! I planned to ask the duchess to speak to her husband on my behalf. I only wanted to speak to her. That was all.”

  Camilla stilled. She gripped the tree as her body began to tremble.

  “So, if I check you, I won’t find any weapons, yes?” Will’s expression was just as Camilla imagined it had looked in the alley that night. His eyes were cold. His face was so relaxed, she doubted he’d flinch before he hurt this man again.

  He held the blade with an informal posture. He could be watching paint dry for all the enthusiasm he seemed to be putting into this interrogation. He was unpretentious, which only enthralled her more. The ease in which he held the knife troubled her, but it troubled Mr. Nast more.

  “I have a pistol,” the man said. “But I would never use it on the lady. I swear!”

  Camilla couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She couldn’t believe her eyes. It all seemed so unreal.

  There she was. The day had promised great weather. It should have been a normal day.

  But it wasn’t.

  Apparently, his cold examination of her in the alley had not been his first. Neither were the threats.

  “Lower your voice.” Will’s tone was sharp. “There are ladies in the park. I’d rather you didn’t spoil their day with shouts and false claims.”

  Mr. Nast’s mouth fell open. “I’m not lying.”

  Will put his knife away. Camilla’s pulse slowed as he said, “I’ll speak to the duke and tell him about our riveting encounter.”

  Mr. Nast did not seem pleased by that announcement. “Please, sir…”

  Will sighed and crossed his arms. “I can only assume Van Dero knows something you don’t wish to get out. He holds one of your secrets, yes? And some evidence that ties to your crime?”

  Mr. Nast looked surprised.

  “Van Dero knows almost everything. I’ll make sure you get your secret back,” Will said. “You’ll get it when everyone else does… in the paper.”

  “No.” Nast dropped to his knees before Will and gripped one hand over the other. “I beg you. Please, do not mention this to the duke. It was a foolish thought I had, a terrible idea. I wasn’t thinking. I simply saw the woman and…” Nast looked around as if for help. Then his gaze landed on Camilla.

  Will’s head turned to her.

  Camilla backed away. “I… sorry, I…” She walked away quickly, clutching her book.

  Her destination was Ruth. It was time to go.

  “Don’t scream.” Will dropped his arm around her and started her in another direction.

  He was gentle and his steps were slow.

  To anyone who saw them, they were nothing more than a couple on a stroll.

  Camilla’s heart was racing.

  “Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She wasn’t sure about that. The entire scene played over and over in her mind. She’d learned more about the Duke of Van Dero than ever before. The whispers about him were true, it seemed. He was a blackmailer.

  Camilla had also seen Will in his element, holding a blade toward a man as though it were the most normal of circumstances. There hadn’t been a hint of fear in his eyes.

  She couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t
hurt her.

  He sighed deeply. “What did you hear?”

  “I don’t know.” Then, remembering how easily he’d found out Nast’s lies, she added, “I don’t know what was said before I arrived but… I heard a great deal. But I won’t say anything to anyone.” She tried to face him and extract her hand at the same time, yet he wouldn’t allow it.

  “I said to calm down.”

  She swallowed. “That only makes me more anxious.”

  “I mean you no harm, Camilla.” He looked down at her. “Breathe and calm yourself.” His face had that foreboding neutrality to it, the same expression of disinterest and haughtiness that other lords tried to attempt and always failed.

  If she weren’t so scared, she’d have written all this down, detailing everything from the stroke of his brow to eyes that reminded her of death, which should have been impossible for green.

  She’d never seen a fight before, not one with weapons.

  And Mr. Nast had been wounded already, perhaps with nothing more than Will’s fist, yet still…

  “I was defending Lady Van Dero.”

  She tried to take her arm back.

  He wouldn’t budge. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would have in the alley.”

  She didn’t know anything in the alley. She didn’t know about Van Dero or the sort of work Will was involved in. He hadn’t had a reason to hurt her then. “I need to think. Please, release me.”

  He did. She stumbled back until she was on the path.

  He stood there in the grass some feet away. The edge where the two foundations met seemed like a barrier between them. Will remained silent.

  Camilla rubbed her arm and stared at his boots, unsure of what she’d do if he moved.

  He took a step back. “Very well.”

  She lifted her gaze. “What?”

  “Go to your friend Lady Ruth. I’ll remain here until you’ve departed and try to avoid crossing your path again.”

  She stared at him. She’d heard his every word, but her mind was stuck at his first word.

  He’d said the same to her in the alley. Go. His tone nearly held the same meaning.

  Go before I hurt you.

  She didn’t move, however.