The Exception of an Earl

by Deborah Wilson

  The first glimpse of impatience entered his eyes. “Lady Ruth is right there.” He pointed not even three yards away. Somehow, they’d moved closer to the other women even as he’d taken her in another direction.

  He was probably trying to keep an eye on the duchess, executing his duty to the duke.

  A duty that he’d only partially claimed. He wasn’t actually Lady Van Dero’s bodyguard. He was just watching her today. And doing a thorough job of it.

  “What are you waiting for?” His expression grew harsher even as his voice remained impartial. Unfriendly, and yet impartial. “If you think I’ll stop you, I won’t.”

  “I said I needed to think.”

  “Think at home.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve every right to be at this park. Why don’t you leave?”

  “I will, once I see that you and Lady Ruth have made it safely to your carriage. And don’t worry. I don’t plan on walking you there. As I stated, I will remain here.”

  He’d remain where he stood and would watch her to make sure she was safe. Those were not the thoughts of someone who wanted to hurt her. But now his eyes seemed to say otherwise.

  They were the same eyes that had smiled at her upon her arrival at the park. The same ones that had glittered mischievously as he held her book away from her at the party last evening.

  If eyes could be deep in hue then she thought his shallow. His heart rested right there, right where anyone could see or touch it. And at the moment, it was closed off.

  She didn’t care for that expression, but she also didn’t know how to make it go away.

  She didn’t know how to start over. She didn’t know if she should.

  Whatever friendship they’d started ended here.

  The decision of who would leave first was taken out of their hands when the other women approached them. Lady Van Dero was ready to go, as were the others.

  They all walked to their carriages and Camilla stared at Will as her driver pulled away.

  He didn’t look at her. Not once as her carriage left the park.

  And then she could see him no more.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  1 7

  * * *

  Will sat in the back of the elegant gentlemen's club and watched as Lord Hornstein called a maid for another drink. He sat at the table with other men, all peers, all men who were close to him.

  They were playing cards. Smoking. There was laughter and conversation.

  There was noise everywhere. Except for the corner that Will occupied.

  At least, he had been quiet until Lord Jeremy took the seat next to Will.

  “How did you manage to get entrance into Parson’s?” Jeremy whispered. “Only lords are allowed in here.”

  “Van Dero.”

  “Ah. Of course.” Jeremy called over a maid and flirted with her before sending her away. “I thought we decided I’d be following Hornstein and you’d follow the family.”

  “We didn’t decide anything.” He gave Jeremy a sharp look. “You ran off before I could arrange any actual plan.”

  Jeremy shrugged. “It wasn’t a terrible plan.” Then his frown deepened. “Shouldn’t you be at a dinner tonight with Lord Tolkin and his sister Lady Camilla?”

  “I decided not to go.”

  It had been two days since he’d seen Camilla. He’d avoided Dan Vero’s home during calling hours that first day. He knew, even though he and Camilla were at odds, she would never stand up the duchess.

  And he’d been right. Milly had told him that evening at dinner that Camilla had come. “She was quite disappointed that you weren’t there.”

  Will had doubted her words were true, though he’d been certain she believed them herself.

  If anything, Camilla would have been relieved, but he imagined she’d smiled and pretended false disenchantment at Will’s absence.

  He’d decided to follow Tolkin after the incident at the park but had departed before the dinner would start. He hadn’t wanted to see Camilla.

  “You stood Tolkin up?” Jeremy asked, dismayed. “Are you trying to get blackballed by Society?”

  “Jeremy, I’m a knight. Society hardly cares for me now.”

  “That’s not true. You get invited to a great deal of parties.”

  “All out of some sense of obligation.” If Will helped someone—like an earl or duke—they returned the favor by inviting him to parties where he’d otherwise be left out. “We’re changing watch. You’ll be following the siblings from now on and I’ll follow Hornstein.”

  Jeremy sighed. “Very well. Perhaps I’ll find the life of the book writer more exciting than Hornstein. Is she interesting?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Will turned his gaze back to the gambling table.

  Jeremy tapped his glass against the wooden arm of his chair. “You know, if you keep staring at him that way, you’re going to get noticed.”

  “Good.”

  “He might confront you.”

  “Good.”

  “You’ll give yourself away.”

  “No, I’ll simply move this along. It needs to be moved along. He needs to be questioned.”

  “We had a man question him already,” Jeremy said. “Or don’t you recall giving that order yourself?”

  Will had given that order days ago. He’d asked one of Van Dero’s allies to have a friendly chat with Hornstein. They’d uncovered little. The man was looking for the Queen of Poisons. He wouldn’t say why.

  “Perhaps it’s time I ask him a few questions under pressure.” Will was tired of the assignment. He was tired of the man’s entire family. He’d have quit were he not actually scared of the Queen of Poisons. Now, he couldn’t. He had to find her. He needed to face her.

  He was a fool.

  “You’re not thinking,” Jeremy said. “You could upset Gloria if you attack Hornstein. We don’t know why she’s allowed him to live so long. You’re being unreasonable.”

  “You said the man has done nothing but go between home and here,” Will said. “And you’ve seen no one suspicious following him?”

  “No one. I’m starting to think that Gloria is actually dead, and we have a new poison maker on our hands.”

  That would make their mission even harder.

  But his life easier. “Very well. I’ll speak to Van Dero. We’ll leave Hornstein and his family at peace and move on, search for this new deviant.” He hadn’t wanted to see Camilla when Hornstein went home for the evening.

  Jeremy nodded and stood. “Fine, let’s go.”

  Will looked at him and then got to his feet. He was tired of the scents in Parson’s. The tobacco was far too sweet. Soft, like most of the men present.

  Jeremy motioned Will into his carriage and Will accepted the offer, though he knew he’d regret not calling a hack eventually.

  Eventually came two seconds later.

  “I think you should still go to dinner tonight.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “Why? Because Tolkin has a low opinion of your family history? Are you hiding from him?”

  Will leaned back against the seat. “I could care less what Tolkin thinks.”

  “Then it’s her you’re hiding from.”

  He didn’t blink. “Jeremy, you may not know this about me, but I’m prone to violence.”

  Jeremy’s mouth fell. There was fear, but that flickered away just as quickly as it came. “I’m here for Van Dero. You won’t hurt me.” Then his expression became curiosity. “What did she do to you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What did you do to her?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t touch her.” He’d barely touched her.

  Jeremy shook his head. “I’m not accusing you of soiling her, Will. I know the whole Annie thing took place a long time ago. You’re not the first man to turn his back on his bastard.”

  “Jeremy,” he growled.

  “I’m only asking what happened because I care.”

  “If you think we’re friend
s, don’t.”

  “Oh, come now,” Jeremy exclaimed. “Everyone needs a friend. Even you. Raven is gone. I’m here. I have ears. I’m listening.”

  Will took a moment and then asked, “Did Van Dero put you up to this?”

  Silence clung to the air.

  Jeremy smiled. “He might have suggested…”

  “Stop the carriage.”

  “Come now, Will—”

  “Never mind, I’ll jump.” And he did.

  The door flung open and Will swung himself outside and then dropped to his feet at a run. He let go and the carriage kept going.

  “Will!” Jeremy’s voice carried over the distance.

  Will grinned.

  “Sir William!”

  He turned and gasped.

  Lord Tolkin came down his stairs, grinning. “I almost sent someone after you.”

  Will was startled. “You did?”

  “Yes! This dinner is for you and I almost thought you weren't coming. But of course, you wouldn’t just not show. You’d have written if that were the case, I’m sure. Now, let’s go inside. We could only hold the meal for so long. The other guests are rather hungry.”

  As Tolkin walked away, Will seriously considered abandoning the earl and going after Jeremy. He’d make Jeremy suffer for this. Jeremy’s charm usually made people think him an empty dandy, but he was not. He’d planned this. He’d likely planned every word they’d shared.

  That manipulative little...

  “Sir William!”

  Will cursed and followed the man inside even though everything within him told him he was making a mistake.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  1 8

  * * *

  Will wasn’t coming.

  Camilla knew he wouldn’t come. She’d hinted that very fact to her brother earlier in the day and then again when the other guests had arrived and Will still hadn’t bothered to show.

  He was avoiding her and doing as he’d promised he would, making sure their paths didn’t cross. Camilla told herself she was glad for it. Her muse was now nothing more than a distraction.

  She was struggling to make her hero flesh, and she’d decided the hero would be someone else. And yet, every time she wrote anything, it felt wrong and continued to feel wrong no matter how much she tried to change it.

  She needed to find a new muse. And soon.

  She was hunting for one. She’d gone to two separate parties last evening. She’d seen Anthony at the last one. He’d smiled at her and her stomach turned as she’d recalled his final warning to her in the alley and then Will’s on top of that.

  Telling her grandmother that she’d felt unwell, she’d returned home far earlier than usual.

  Her mother had been awake and they’d spoken until Lady Hornstein’s voice had risen and once again everything became sad and bitter.

  She couldn’t help but think about the difference between her house compared to that of Lady Van Dero’s. Aside from the manor being a thing of true beauty and art, she’d enjoyed Lady Van Dero’s confidence and had a feeling the woman would still be so even if her husband left her.

  There was something extraordinary about the woman’s strength and speaking to her had helped Camilla carve out the heroine.

  The woman had to be strong. Strength was far more appealing than beauty in Camilla’s opinion.

  The door to the lady’s receiving room burst open and Ruth tumbled in. “He’s here.”

  “Who?” Emily’s maid was tending to a rip in Camilla’s stocking. She’d come with her while the woman fixed it.

  “Him,” Ruth cried right before she got a far-off look in her eyes.

  “Sir William?” Emily guessed with a smile.

  Ruth had come over with Camilla the other day to spend time with Emily and all they’d been able to speak about was Will. Camilla suspected Emily only encouraged the conversation because Ruth wanted to speak of nothing else.

  And Camilla knew why Ruth adored him. She thought Camilla adored him as well and was trying to get Camilla to think about marriage.

  Ruth herself would never marry. Though she was gorgeous, her father would not allow it because of her health. He’d decided the risk wasn’t worth Ruth’s life.

  Ruth pretended to be content, but Camilla doubted that was the truth. Why else did Ruth enjoy her stories so much? She too wanted more in life.

  But at the moment, Camilla’s wants had nothing to do with men.

  Writing romance had been a silly idea from the start. She knew nothing about love. She’d make her heroine into something else.

  A warrior or perhaps she’d write a book called The Good Mother.

  Camilla had a very long list of the things she’d like in a mother. Though she hated to think ill of Lady Hornstein, was it too much to ask the woman to not to direct her anger upon Camilla?

  Her mother walked into the room. “Why is everyone in here?” She hadn’t been invited, but Luke had told Lady Hornstein about the party and then been unable to refuse when she’d invited herself. At least she looked nice.

  Lady Francine James never left the house looking less than the perfect marchioness. She’d used paints to hide her blemishes. Her dress looked a little too large on her thinning frame but she still managed to make it look elegant, though the sleeves hung dramatically just before her shoulders.

  It was only the woman’s words that took from her attractiveness.

  The room grew quiet.

  “What?” Francine stiffened. “Were you in here talking about me?”

  “No.” Camilla took the stocking the maid offered and was glad to have a legitimate reason to duck her head. Though no one had spoken her mother’s name, Camilla had been thinking unkindly about her. “Ruth was only telling us about a recent arrival to the party.”

  “Oh.” Francine didn’t inquire. “Well, let’s go. I’m hungry and this wait has lasted long enough.”

  The dinner bell rang just as Camilla walked into the drawing room.

  Luke grabbed Emily’s arm and then turned to whisper in Camilla’s ear. She could already see from his expression that whatever he had to say didn’t please him. “I placed you together. You’re welcome.”

  Camilla dropped her jaw at her brother’s bigotry and false assumptions.

  He stepped away and then Will took his place. Her stomach tightened. Had it really only been two days since she’d seen him? He didn’t even bother to look at her as he raised his arm.

  She took it. She had no choice but to appear calm. She held him lightly, touching his jacket more than anything else and looked around. The other pairs had already been formed. Her mother was being escorted by the local vicar.

  They were the last to get in line.

  Will kept them back a pace and then started. She knew he would speak but wasn’t prepared to hear him. “I didn’t plan to be here.”

  “Van Dero does not live close.” She frowned and realized how terrible that must have sounded. “I mean…”

  “I’ll excuse myself before the first course. I’ll find a reason to leave.”

  Her heart pounded so hard that her chest ached and her skin tingled, nearly itched.

  She said nothing.

  They sat and Will didn’t look at her.

  Her mother sat at her other side. “Who is that?” She was loud and Camilla could smell the spirits on her breath.

  Francine had been placed out of order at the table, but Camilla suspected she knew the reason. Luke didn’t want to be near his mother. She’d embarrass them all eventually.

  “Sir William Husher, this is my mother, Lady Hornstein.”

  Will inclined his head.

  “Sir?” Her mother lifted a brow. “A knight?”

  He nodded.

  The marchioness made a sound of consideration. “Yes, I can see that.”

  “How so?” Will asked.

  “You look like you earned something, like you’re a man of accomplishment,” the marchioness said.

  Camilla’s eyes wide
ned at her mother’s compliment.

  Will inclined his head. “Thank you, my lady.”

  “Yes,” the marchioness went on. Her gaze wavered, unable to settle on Will. “You don’t seem anything like those gentlemen who do absolutely nothing yet reap the benefits from the work of others. Rulers, thanks to nothing more than blood, as though that should mean anything.”

  Francine leaned over Camilla as she spoke to Will, all but cutting Camilla out of the conversation. “Blood means nothing. People betray it all the time. Some people have no sense of commitment.”

  Camilla cleared her throat. “Luke will inherit by blood.”

  Her mother leaned back to meet her eyes. They were sad, but for once, that sadness wasn’t for herself but Camilla. It was pity. “Your Mr. Reevas.” She touched Camilla’s cheek. “At least, he does love you.”

  Camilla didn’t know what her mother was going on about but felt unease all the same. “He loves you too.”

  Her mother nodded. Then she turned back to Will. “What did you do to earn your knighthood?”

  Will shrugged.

  Luke spoke from the other end of the table. “Sir William Husher was a spy for the Crown, a prisoner of war who managed to break out and take France’s secrets with him.”

  The table gasped.

  Will whipped around and looked at Luke. “I didn’t tell you that.” He sounded angry.

  Was it not true?

  Luke lifted a brow. “But it’s true, isn’t it? Quite a humble man, you are.” They were kind words, but he hadn’t meant it as a compliment. He smirked, pleased with himself for exposing Will. Then he looked at the rest of the table. “Sir William knew Princess Caroline very well.”

  The table turned to Will and Camilla knew there would be no escape for him anytime soon.

  She was surprised by what her brother shared and wanted to ask Will about it but kept her mouth shut. Sitting as close as she was to him, she could feel his discomfort as it mounted. She stared at him and tried to see the table’s praise through his eyes. She tried to understand why her brother’s announcement mattered so much.

  Then she saw it. Anger was burning in Will’s eyes and it was violent. He was like a trapped exotic beast with nowhere to go. They’d made him an animal at the menagerie. They would soon find out he had claws if someone didn’t do something.