The Exception of an Earl

by Deborah Wilson

  “Who told you?” Landcastle had promised only the most important people in Society would be informed. Then, a few days before the party, the papers would announce it just before the final invitation would be sent.

  It was all the time Will had to find Azalea before people took notice of his movements.

  “I heard it from a lady… who was whispering about it to another lady.” Boran chuckled. “You and Raven must be proud.”

  “Raven? What does he have to do with this?”

  The man’s eyes widened. “You don’t know? Raven is to be made an earl as well.”

  “What!” Landcastle hadn’t told him. No one had told him. “Who told you this?”

  “It was whispered,” Boran said. “From one lady to another.”

  Van Dero probably knew.

  The moment the thought entered his mind, he knew it was the truth. Van Dero knew and hadn’t said a word. Raven was to be made an earl. He’d be at the party.

  Will wouldn’t have to endure the ton alone.

  That lightened his mood significantly but not enough to take him off task.

  “Can I go now?” Boran asked.

  “How does a woman find Azalea?”

  The man shrugged again. “I don’t know. I’m not a woman. Besides, no one takes me seriously. I believe it is the smell that seems to cling to me.”

  Will sighed. “Fine. Go. And take a bath and get your clothes cleaned.” He tossed Boran a coin. Will would have given Boran more if he’d asked for a permanent position in Van Dero’s team, but the man liked to work for himself, whispering to who he might. “And if you happen to meet someone who has met this Azalea, tell them that Van Dero means her no harm.”

  “Much appreciated.” The man lifted the coin. “And I’ll spread the world.” He scampered away and Will struck back out into the night.

  Raven would be honored at the party. He wouldn’t be the only one stared at.

  He wondered if Camilla would come. He hadn’t thought to ask her until that moment.

  His feet started for Van Dero’s estate.

  Yet he ended up in a very different place.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  3 0

  * * *

  Camilla was startled by the knocking on her door.

  She sat at her writing desk. It was nearly midnight. “Come in.”

  The door opened and she gasped at the sight of Will.

  She stood but sat back down when he motioned her to do so. “How did you get in my house?”

  “This isn’t a fort.” He looked around her bedchamber but only stepped inside enough to close the door behind him.

  “How did you know this room was mine?”

  “A guess.” He took a breath. “Also, it smells like you.” His hands were behind his back and grasping the door handle. “I had a question for you.”

  She smiled. “A question that couldn’t wait until our next meeting?”

  He nodded. “I suppose that particular question can wait. But I’ve another at the moment. What did you mean when you said you craved something new?”

  She wondered at his first question, the reason he’d come, but then decided to simply answer the second. “I mean, I want the romance to be… different. Unexpected.”

  “But it will be expected, since the readers will know they are reading a romance when they purchase the book or lend it from the library.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, they’ll know it is a romance, but the romance will be new.”

  “How?”

  “Because… the heroine craves it and the hero gives it to her.”

  “How?”

  She frowned. “Well… I’m not sure I want to tell you that.” But she knew the answer to his question.

  “Come on. Tell me. If it’s terrible, I’ll tell you so before the publisher can. I swear not to smile and say it’s good when it isn’t or treat you however your family does. I’ll give you an honest opinion.”

  She took a deep breath as she realized she wouldn’t be hesitating to tell him anything if she didn't value his opinion. “All right.”

  She looked at her book and then at him. “It’s different because he’s no Mr. Reevas… He’s no Mr. Darcy either, as you have made clear.”

  “Who is he?”

  She’d never told him what she’d been thinking as she’d stood in the alley with Anthony. “He’s Hades.”

  “He’s a villain.”

  “Hades isn’t a villain or not any more than any other god.” She ignored the ridiculousness of the debate. It didn’t matter that Hades was completely fictional. “He was given his position as Lord of the Underworld, which is different than someone who enjoys murder or hate and elects themselves to take part in it. His job isn’t a pretty one but necessary, nonetheless.”

  Will smiled. “I still don’t see how this could be a romance.”

  “Hades loved his wife.”

  “So, your heroine intends to change him? Or perhaps even save him from himself?”

  She inclined her head.

  “I wish to hear about this heroine.”

  “Another time.”

  “When?” he asked. They hadn’t set a time for their next appointment.

  “Next week,” she said. She needed time to write without his distracting eyes.

  He shook her head. “Tomorrow. I want to see what you have so far.”

  Her mouth fell open. “I don’t let people read my books before they’re complete. Things change too often and this isn’t even the final version.”

  “I want to read it.”

  “It’s not ready.”

  “I don’t care,” he said. “I want it.”

  She pressed her face into the hand that gripped the back of her chair. Her face was painfully hot. “All right.”

  “All right. Good night.”

  He was gone before she could ask him about the question that had brought him to her house.

  * * *

  Camilla woke to the sound of shouting. She recognized her mother’s voice and knew there could be only one cause for anger.

  She dressed quickly and rushed from the room.

  She found her mother flapping around the drawing room wildly. Her screams were at such a pitch that it was hard to make out anything she was saying. “How dare you come into my home! And you came here the other day without a word and dared to allow your hideous by-blow into my home. My home! The home I made for our children, our legitimate children!” She shrieked the last.

  Camilla cringed. Her ears ached, yet still, she narrowed her gaze at her father.

  Lord Hornstein might as well have been a statue for all the emotion he gave his wife’s cries of anger. Just a few weeks ago, when Camilla saw him act this way she understood his dreary expression, but now… Camilla wondered why he came at all.

  She wondered what he needed now.

  He sighed dramatically and his eyes moved around the room. He straightened and smiled at the sight of Camilla and held out his arms. “Daughter.”

  “Camilla, come here,” her mother called.

  Camilla’s stomach tightened. She hated it when her parents forced her to play their little game.

  She decided not to move. “I’m hungry.” She decided to pretend she hadn’t seen her father’s arms as she dipped from the room.

  They both followed her to the breakfast room.

  It dawned on Camilla that in a fortnight her father had sought her out more times than he had last year. She took her place at the table and her father fell into the one he usually occupied.

  “You’re not welcome here,” her mother started.

  “Mother,” Camilla called. “Please.” She shook her head.

  Lady Hornstein gasped with wide dark eyes. “You have no idea what it is like to carry a child, Camilla. You…”

  Camilla covered her mother’s hand with her own. “Please.” Her head ached and she’d never get through the meal if her mother continued to shout.

  There were times when Camilla p
rayed her father would finally ask the woman to shut her mouth, but then she knew why he allowed it. Francine’s voice was all the freedom she’d ever have, and he allowed her that one bit of freedom.

  It was more than many other husbands or even fathers allowed.

  Her mother had tried to have an affair only once. She’d tried to do it as publicly as their father. Camilla still didn’t know what her father had done to bring it to an end, but she recalled how quiet her mother had been for months after that and that she’d never tried to take another man, publicly or otherwise… at least as far as Camilla knew.

  The morning meal was served and Camilla ate.

  Just a few weeks ago, she’d have been happy to have her father at the table with her, but now…

  He didn’t make her wait long before telling her why he’d come. “What are your plans for the day? I was thinking we could spend some time together.”

  Camilla choked on the piece of toast. Tears filled her eyes as she sipped her tea. Her heart raced. Her limbs shook. She put down her cup and looked at her mother.

  Francine didn’t look at either of them. She ate her meal in silence, her gaze concentrated on her plate. Camilla thought that odd. Her mother usually always had an opinion where her father was concerned.

  She was forced to face her father once more. She took a breath. “What did you have in mind?”

  “We could go to the shops,” he offered. “Or to a park. Perhaps we can invite some of your friends.”

  “Like Ruth?” Camilla offered.

  Her father nodded. “Like Ruth or… the duchess.”

  Camilla smiled even as her food became bitter in her mouth. “Father, Luke knows the duchess. If you wish to meet her, ask him.” Could he not see that the more he used her the less she wished to be used?

  “But you’re closer to her,” her father said. “And he told me you saw her yesterday.”

  “Actually, I didn’t see her at all.”

  He frowned. “You didn’t?”

  “No.”

  Her father looked put out. “But your brother said you went to Lord Van Dero’s home. Surely, you saw one of them.”

  “Van Dero?” Her mother stiffened. “You know Lord and Lady Van Dero? You’ve been to the duchess’ home? How many times? Camilla, why didn’t you tell me?” Her mother placed a hand to her chest. “You know the duchess? How wonderful. Lady Belcher says she gives so much money to charity and I hear she’s very beautiful up close. Is she?”

  “Very.” Camilla smiled.

  Her father sighed to gain her attention. “When next you visit the duchess, I will accompany you.”

  “Very well.” Was it lying if she went to the duchess’ house but never told him? After all, she wasn’t there to see her. She was there to see Will.

  And the moment her father left, that was where she would go.

  She had a feeling this connection to Van Dero went back to Julia’s illness. Did Van Dero know the herbalist her father sought out? She knew very little about the duke. Aside from witnessing his affection for his wife, everything else she’d ever learned had been a rumor.

  And then there had been Will’s words in the park when he’d confronted Mr. Nast.

  Van Dero knows almost everything.

  Did that include knowing everyone?

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  3 1

  * * *

  Her father was still on her mind when Will came into the drawing room. Camilla’s mother had insisted on coming and as luck would have it, the duchess—who requested she be called Lady Milly—had received her and taken her to see the house.

  Camilla had told her mother why she came to Van Dero’s home and though her mother made a fuss about her meeting with a man, it seemed the duchess’ approval of the new earl settled her mother faster than anything else.

  Camilla hadn’t heard much about Lady Milly, but apparently, her mother had. Lady Blecher adored her and Francine couldn’t wait to tell her friend about the visit.

  Will left the door opened and took the couch across from Camilla. He held out his hand and said not a word. It was hard to believe that he’d visited her the previous night. He’d stood in her room and they’d spoken.

  She’d called him Hades and he’d smiled.

  “I can’t give you the book. I’ll allow you to read a few pages at my side and that is all I’m willing to give.”

  He dropped his hand. Then he stood and came to sit by her. The cushions dipped where the bulk of him settled and his arm went to the back of her seat. She felt wrapped in his presence. She could feel his breath at the top of her head as he leaned over her.

  “Open the book,” he said.

  She kept her gaze on her lap and did as he asked.

  He moved closer. His thigh settled against hers.

  Instinctively, she looked up and watched his eyes as they moved over the paper.

  He continued to read as he asked, “Who inspired your heroine?”

  “No one. I just… created her.”

  His eyes moved to her. “So, she isn’t you?”

  “No.” And she wasn’t. The heroine was far braver than Camilla could ever be. The heroine did more than shun Society’s rules. She boldly defied authority, which was something Camilla would never do.

  He turned the page. “Your story is… good.”

  “Good?”

  “Entertaining.” He pulled back to look at her. “I’m sure people will enjoy it.”

  “But you don’t enjoy it.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not what I expected.”

  “What would you change?”

  He pressed his lips together and shrugged again. “It’s not my book.”

  Was he being irritating on purpose? He was the one who’d pushed for greater influence in her book. “You said you wanted to help me, so help. What would you change?”

  He smiled. “The hero, as you have already stated, isn’t me. However…”

  Her stomach twisted as she waited.

  “If he were me…” He paused. “I’d never do half the things he’s done thus far.”

  She gasped. “What do you mean? What wouldn’t you do?”

  “Steal a bride, for starters. If she was forbidden to me, I’d let her go.”

  She frowned. “You wouldn’t take her? Even if she wanted to go? Even if you truly loved her?”

  His dimples winked at her. “Not even then. I’m almost sure of that.”

  “But you’ve never been in love, have you?” She leaned toward him to watch his expression. “So, you don’t know for sure. You can’t know.”

  “But I’m almost sure I wouldn’t, even if she was the most beautiful woman in the world.” He tapped her book. “But I like your character. I like that he isn’t a lord.” He was gentry, but that was his only similarity to Mr. Darcy.

  “You like that he’s not a lord because you don’t want to be a lord. Why is that? Why did you keep it a secret from me?” She couldn’t keep the offense out of her voice.

  He tapped the hand he had stretched against the back of the couch. “Those are two different questions. I will answer the first.” He took a breath. “It’s not that I don’t want to be a lord. It’s just… I don’t like all the other honors that are bestowed upon them.”

  “Like land and fame?”

  He shook his head. “No. Unearned attributes, like never being wrong. The authorities assume the gentleman is above the law simply because of his birthright. I think a man should be considered good by what he does, not by what his great-great-grandfather gave him.”

  She smiled. “Do you consider yourself good?”

  His gaze swept over her face before settling on her eyes again. “If I did, perhaps I wouldn’t have a problem being a lord. And perhaps… that’s why I didn’t tell you I was an earl. I want people to see me.”

  She felt like she saw him, but then again, she felt like she only saw what he wanted her to see. Even when she was certain she could glimpse secret emotions in his eyes, it was only
those emotions he willingly revealed to her.

  She didn’t know why she craved to know this man so deeply.

  What was he hiding?

  Without her having to ask, he said, “I compromised a woman…” Then he shook his head and frowned. “I’ve ruined a woman before.”

  Camilla took a deep breath and leaned away. “What do you mean?”

  “There was a woman who… gave herself to me. We were caught as I left her home. Later, I was informed that she was pregnant.” He shook his head. “I abandoned her.” He had that stoic look again. “I abandoned my son and never gave him my name.” His mask cracked, and Camilla saw the haunted look in his eyes before he turned away.

  Then he stood and presented her with his back. He moved away. The hands at his side were fisted. He pointed his face to the ceiling and took a breath. Then he lowered it and said nothing.

  Camilla was more than surprised by his confession. She’d suspected something was troubling him but never had she thought it was anything of this magnitude.

  She was disappointed in him. She tried not to be, but there it was. That he wasn’t married only made him slightly less offensive than her father but not by much. He’d abandoned a woman and child. That he believed the child to be his told Camilla that the woman was likely innocent before him. And if not an innocent, definitely not a woman who took frequent lovers.

  She didn’t have to ask him if he was certain the baby was his. Will wasn’t a fool.

  He turned and looked at her. His expression became matter-of-fact. “I knew the truth would upset you. Honestly, I should have told you at the very beginning.”

  She agreed. This was something she would have wanted to know. This was something her brother would want to know, but whether it would make Luke think better of this matchmaking scheme, she wasn’t sure. “Does the duchess know?” There was no way she could.

  “She does, as does the duke.”

  Camilla’s eyes widened, but she tried for a more neutral look when she asked, “How old is your son?” It was the only thing she could think to say.

  “He’d be about five now… if he’d lived.”