Camilla opened her mouth to repeat herself, but then
Will grabbed her arm. He turned to Emily. “Excuse us, my lady. We seem to have had some creative differences. Don’t mind her.” He pulled her away too quickly for Camilla to protest.
But at the foot of the stairs, she finally managed to get her bearings. “Let me go.” She would not be touched by the same hands that had touched another woman last night.
He let her go. “What is it I’ve done wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Yes.”
His jaw hardened. “Well, this conversation moves faster when I get the truth from you. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He grabbed her arm and started up the stairs. His grip was tight enough that it demanded she follow or lose the limb.
“Let me go!”
“No one in this house will help you, so I suggest you lower your voice.” He didn’t stop. He didn’t let her go. He marched her all the way to the drawing room.
Camilla’s heart pounded. She was scared, frightened by what the truth said about her and anxious of how he’d react if he forced it from her. Therefore, she couldn’t tell him. She’d have to come up with something else, some other reason.
But he’d know she was lying.
She didn’t know what to do.
She jumped when the door closed behind them, even though he hadn’t slammed it.
He finally let her go and then crossed his arms. He no longer looked tired. His eyes were sharp. “What’s wrong?”
“N—”
He lifted a hand. “You’ll not say ‘nothing’ to me again.”
“Or what?” she asked. “What will you do? Beat me? Hurt me?”
“You’ll not distract me with that senseless conversation either. I want to know why the sight of me made you storm out of the room.” Now he was angry. “Did it finally dawn on you this morning that you were drawing your book’s inspiration from a commoner? Did the sight of me in daylight make you realize it was a baker’s son who touched you last evening? Do you regret meeting me?”
The storm in his eyes calmed her.
It was easy to accept his explanations and agree with him. Nothing would get her out of the door faster. And then she’d never have to see him again.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He flinched back as though struck.
She nodded even though it pained her to hurt him. “Yes. I regret everything. I regret meeting you. I wish to leave.”
“And you see me as nothing more than a commoner.”
“Yes.”
“Say it,” he demanded. “Say I’m nothing more than a commoner. Tell me that is all you’ll ever see no matter what honors the Crown bestowed upon me. You will forever see my murky blood and nothing more.”
She opened her mouth… and closed it.
He pressed closer and at the same time, he touched her. His hands stroked up her arms and tingling spread. She was instantly hot. Her legs were heavy. “Tell me to take my lower-class fingers from you.” His hands kneaded up to her shoulders and then he cupped her neck. One of his hands tangled in her hair.
She released a breath. She gripped her book and pressed it to her chest.
His eyes were like fire. Their hidden yellow glowed from within. Rage cut through her heart. “My father wasn’t an officer, you know? He simply did whatever the naval ships needed done. He cleaned chamber pots sometimes. I’ve cleaned them as well. Surely, you can smell my past on me.”
She couldn’t, but she tried to smell other women on him.
She couldn’t smell that either. “Where did you go last night?”
His fingers didn’t stop moving. He pulled her closer and forced their bodies to meet. “What?”
“Why are you in your theatre clothes?” she asked.
“Because I’ve just arrived home.”
She frowned. “Where did you go?”
“A tavern… I was working on something.”
She tried to shake her head but couldn’t. His hold wouldn’t allow it. His arms were around her as well even as his hands remained on her hair and on her neck. She was folded against him.
He was trying to scare her.
“This work kept you out all evening?” she asked in disbelief.
“It tends to at times.” He glowered. “Why? What else could I have been doing? Why are you…?” He stopped moving.
Camilla saw the moment the truth entered his eyes.
Her gaze fell to his shoulder.
His voice quieted. “Did you think me with another woman? Is that why you’re upset?”
“No.”
He didn’t move, but she heard him swallow and then sigh. “I wish I didn’t know when you were lying.”
“I’m not.” She forced her eyes to his, hoping her words carried a strength she didn’t feel. “I don’t care what you do at night or what you do with other women. You’re not mine. I’m only here to finish my book, nothing more.”
* * *
She was a beautiful liar.
With his fingers locked in her hair and the other hand holding her head at the angle he wished, he could feel her body tremble with outrage. He’d hoped her anger had been rooted in disgust for his past, but no… Camilla had to go and get upset over the thought of him with another woman.
And then she had to go and lie about it.
He could have dismissed her outrage for something to do with his lack of morals and disgust at fornication in general, but this wasn’t that. This was personal and she was jealous.
It made no sense and had their roles been reversed, Will would already be out of the door hunting down the man he planned to skin alive.
This was supposed to be about a book and nothing more. It had to be about the book. Anything else was impossible.
But he couldn’t stop touching her. She didn’t even fight his hold even as he could see the anger and worry in her eyes.
“Are you jealous?” Will asked.
“No.” Her eyes burned with a shout of “yes!”
“Would you prefer to keep me all to yourself?”
She rolled her eyes, yet her cheeks turned red. “You’re not mine.”
Will decided to be as reckless as everyone thought he was. “But you want to be mine, don’t you?”
She stiffened. Her eyes widened just before her body pressed into his. “No.”
He smiled. “I’m still a commoner, you know.”
“You’re not. You’re an earl.” Her words were not in defense of her feelings but of his feelings about himself. He could hear that, too. Her tone went immediately soft, as did her eyes. “And you were a good man before that. A heroic man. I find you far too interesting to ever consider you common. I couldn’t write about a common man, Will. That was never you.”
She closed her eyes and somewhere through her speech, he’d started to stroke his fingers through her hair once more. “Kiss me.”
His heart stopped. “What?”
She opened her eyes. “Please. I want you to kiss me. For the book.”
There was some truth in her plea but also something else. Desire most likely.
He let her go. “I can’t kiss you.”
“Why not?” She blushed and covered her mouth with her book. She cringed behind it. “Oh. Right. Yes. I understand.”
He placed a hand over where her hand touched the book and lowered it until he could see her whole face. “What do you understand?”
Her eyes fell.
“Do you think I don’t want to?” he asked. “Because I do, and I don’t have to hide my desire for you behind a book.”
Her eyes snapped up, widened. “You want to kiss me?”
He wanted to do a whole slew of things to her. “Yes.”
She smiled. “Then do it.”
He grinned. “I can’t. I’ve been asked to be good around you.”
“By whom? Surely, not my bro
ther. He’s quite upset that you’ve yet to compromise me.”
Will laughed. “I won’t be compromising you more than I already have.”
Her eyes glowed like stars. “Well, perhaps you can tell me about your desire… for the book and for my own fascination.”
He laughed again and nodded.
She backed away slowly and then went to sit on the couch.
He followed her and took the seat across from her.
This drawing room was different than the last one they’d shared. It was larger, but the furniture was arranged similarly. They had a better view of the garden, but only faint edges of sunlight managed to penetrate the room.
There were a few soft shadows, simply because no one had lit a lamp. However, the soft light was enough for everything to be seen. She leaned back and stared at him, waiting.
∫ ∫ ∫
2 8
* * *
Will frowned at his little writer. “You actually want me to describe my desire for you?”
She nodded.
“Absolutely not.” He barked a laugh at her audacity.
“Why not? It’s no longer a secret that we want each other. Would you like me to go first? I wanted you to kiss me last night. I waited for you to do it. It was a disappointment when you didn’t.”
He leaned forward on his knees and tightened his fist. “Let’s not discuss this.”
She tilted her head. “Who asked you to be good?”
“Lady Van Dero.”
“The duchess? Why do you think she asked that of you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. So that I wouldn’t embarrass her in her own home?”
“So if we were to meet elsewhere…” She let the words trail away.
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to get kissed?”
She turned pink and laughed. “No! I mean… I just want to know what you’d do. Would you kiss me elsewhere?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because the duchess asked me to be good.”
“And she’s important to you,” she asked. “Honoring her request is important.”
He thought about that and nodded.
She made a sound of consideration and then cracked her book open. As she wrote, he stayed silent and contently watched her.
Sometime later, her pencil stopped moving and just hovered. Then she looked at him. “Exactly, what did Lady Van Dero request of you? Did she use the word kissing?”
“No, she but it was expressed in her words. There was a line she didn’t want me to cross. Therefore, I won’t cross it.”
“And kissing is on the other side of this line?” She narrowed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Anything that compromises you is.”
She straightened. “Yet, here we are alone and not even engaged. Is this not against Society’s rules as well?”
She was right.
“Wasn’t she worried that you’d try and kiss me?” Camilla asked.
“Of course. She said…” Will had to think about exactly what Milly had said.
“Give her anything she needs… even if she asks for your very soul.”
“No,” Will whispered, shaking back the memory. He searched for the memory of the duchess asking him not to touch Camilla.
“Help her finish the book, anyway she needs it.”
“What does that mean?”
“Camilla and I spoke last week while you decided to hide from her. She told me the direction of her book. She told me… You’re creative. I’m sure it will come to you when the time is right.”
“Fine.” Camilla tapped her pencil against her closed book. “I’ll let you keep your promise to the duchess. It’s quite honorable of you.”
Will said nothing about the possibility that he could have been wrong. He just wasn’t sure of his limits. “What did you and Lady Van Dero discuss on the day I didn’t come?”
She shrugged. “The book. She wanted to know what sort of romance it would be.”
“And what sort was that?”
Camilla looked at the book again. She smiled. “I want something new. I want to sweep my readers away. I want hard-won happiness with a trail of broken rules behind them.”
“What do you mean? What rules?”
“Society’s rules.”
“Like?”
She blushed, but her eyes shined with strong hope. “I want the hero to save the heroine from her life. I want him to take her away from everything.” She closed her eyes. Her smile softened. “I want him to take her burdens, because he’s stronger and because he can and wants to.”
“You want God,” Will told her. “I’m not God.”
Her eyes popped open. “I didn’t say he would be without flaw. After all, he is modeled after you.” She laughed. “But my heroine will be saved nonetheless.”
“Your hero sounds like an angel. I’m not or do you forget how we met in the alley?”
“Are you asking me to believe that angels never venture into the dark?” she asked. “Because I would say you were wrong. Angels don’t only go to the dark, but they know what it’s made of far more than we do and they fight it back and make it cower.” She straightened. “For He will give His angels charge concerning you, to guard you in all your ways.”
He was consumed by her words. Will believed in God, but few poetic verses had touched him more than hers. “Very well. Angels are strong and they fight.”
“And they know their enemy,” she said, popping the book back open. “Therefore—”
“I can’t kiss you.”
She looked at him again. “Why not?”
“Because I won’t be able to control myself,” he said. “I won’t be able to stop at a kiss. I’d want everything. I’d want all of you. And thus, it is a line I can’t cross.”
“Very well.” She ducked her head. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, place you in the middle of a few scenarios, and you’ll answer honestly.”
∫ ∫ ∫
2 9
* * *
“I want new.
I want the hero to save the heroine from her life. I want him to take her away from everything.
I want him to take her burdens, because he’s stronger and because he can and wants to.”
Had Camilla been talking about herself or just the woman in the book?
That question plagued Will for the rest of the evening.
His captive cleared his throat. “Can I go?”
Will looked down at the man he held in his fist and released him roughly. “You can go when I say you can go.”
Mr. Michael Boran crawled away from Will and took a position in the corner of the cellar, stopping when his back met a group of barrels. They were at The Swinging Door. Will had told the owner to hold Lord Boran if he showed up. and his request had been granted.
Will had been close to sleep when one of Van Dero’s footmen had brought him word of Boran’s capture. “I want to know what you know about Gloria.”
“She’s dead.”
“And yet poisons still run rampant throughout England.”
Boran shrugged. “Not every incident has anything to do with her. It’s not hard for one to get their hands on poisons, much less make one themselves. A few crushed petals from a certain flower and…” He snapped his fingers.
Will crossed his arms. “And if it were a matter of wolfsbane, I wouldn’t have had to hunt you down.”
“How do you know what sort of poison is being consumed?” Boran asked. “There is no science for this.”
“And yet I know.”
Will didn’t need to tell this man that Van Dero’s doctor was not only a man of science but also one fascinated with medical history. He could look at a painting from hundreds of years ago, read a journal about the person’s death, and know what sort of ailment the individual had.
Dr. Christian Sparrow believed that people were not as different as we tried to make the
m. Symptoms could vary but the truth would always be the truth. And the truth was that some people were not dying from wolfsbane but from far more exotic potions.
“What do you know?” Will asked again.
Boran swallowed, but Will could tell the man’s next words would be the truth. “Gloria is dead. She killed herself. At least, that’s what I heard.”
Will had heard the woman had died of poisoning. Everyone had thought it an accident. “How do you know it was done on purpose?”
Boran shrugged. “It’s simply something I heard on the street.” Boran heard many things on the street. It was what he was paid to do. “Apparently, she’d heard that Van Dero was coming after her, so she beat him at his own game. But again, it could all be a rumor.”
Will frowned. If it had been the duke’s plan to put the confectionary maker down last year, it certainly hadn’t been this year. “So, if Gloria is dead then where are the poisons coming from? The man who took over the shop?”
“No, a new woman. The Herbalist. She is called Azalea and I heard she could do more than poison. I heard she can perform other wonders.”
Will thought of the reports again. Women weren’t being poisoned anymore. Instead, they were vanishing. It made sense that there was a new person in charge. “What can this Azalea do?”
“Make people fall in love.” Boran smiled. “I heard she’s got a potion for that.”
Will rolled his eyes. “Great. Just what England needs. A woman who believes herself a practitioner of the mystic arts. Is Azalea aware of English laws?”
Boran waved his hand. “A year imprisonment is far less than what they used to do.” Since 1735, it was no longer legal to hunt down magic folk for execution.
“She still risks prison,” he said.
“Yet she grows quite wealthy for the time being.” Boran smiled. “Have you noticed she only kills men? Bad men at that. Also, the women aren’t turning up dead. They’re simply… vanishing. I hear she only speaks to women as well. Any man looking for her will never find her. She doesn’t trust them.”
Will thought that bit of information interesting. He would have to tell Van Dero. There were women in his circle who could inquire.
“Anything else you can give me?”
Boran’s grin changed and Will knew at once he didn’t wish to hear whatever the man had to say. “I heard you’re to have a party in a few weeks.”
The Exception of an Earl Page 14
