The Exception of an Earl

by Deborah Wilson

  She stared at him. “I’ll do as you instructed.”

  He nodded and let her go.

  She left the room.

  He turned to Camilla. “Are you all right?”

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  3 7

  * * *

  Camilla listened to every word Will spoke to the maid and felt her heart beat erratically with a violent storm of emotions. Like hands, her feelings tried to take hold of him, claiming Will as their reason for existing.

  Her heart stopped when the maid walked away and then returned with a jerk when Will turned to her. Standing before her in the uniform that showed his every muscled bulge in complete perfection, he’d never looked more like her hero.

  “Are you all right?” He stood before her and held out his hand.

  She took hold of him and let him lift her from the seat, but she didn’t stop her motion until she was against him. Her hands went to his jaw and pulled him close.

  Their mouths brushed, and they both shuddered.

  She had to force herself away. She was dizzy because she couldn’t breathe, not with him so close, not with her skin feeling sensitive and the pumping of her heart drowning out the whispers of reason that managed to penetrate her mind every once in a while.

  He held her arms. “I want to see you again.”

  She said nothing. Her eyes climbed up his torso but couldn’t make it past his cravat.

  She didn’t want to look into his eyes. She feared what she would see there. She feared what she would reveal with her own.

  She hadn’t forgotten that this was a man who thought himself undeserving of love and would likely never allow himself to fall. Only in her book would he love. And she would give him her love in ink, but if she wished to keep it in the book, she had to protect her heart.

  He tightened his hold. “I want to see you again, and I don’t want it to be another week before I do.”

  She cleared her throat. “It’s been some time since you’ve seen Raven. I’m sure you wish to spend some time with him. Besides, I need to write.”

  “Yes, the book.” He sounded surprised. Had he forgotten how they’d met and why they’d spent any time together at all?

  She had to look at his face. She had to see.

  And she saw it. His shock was genuine. “I haven’t even had the chance to ask you about the book.” He’d had the chance. They’d simply found better things to do with their mouths.

  “Well. I’m almost halfway through it.”

  He was shocked yet again. “You must be writing through meals and in your sleep.”

  She laughed. “Actually, I’m hardly sleeping. It keeps me up for hours. I’m enjoying every minute of it.” She enjoyed it so much a part of her didn’t want to share it. The thought had come to her one night while she wrote a very intimate part.

  Her heroine’s emotions had bled through the pages. The story was precious. Sacred. It reminded her of her relationship with Will. That felt precious as well. It also felt forbidden. And it was. They shouldn’t have kissed and yet she’d begun both of the kisses they’d shared.

  They shouldn’t be alone, but they were. He shouldn’t be touching her and yet...

  It was her want of more that finally prompted her to speak. “You should return to the ballroom. The people are here to see you.” She smiled tightly. “I’m sure you could fit another dance or two in before the night ends.” She would not be there to watch it, however. She could not bear the sight again.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “No! I enjoyed this time.” She tried to think of something nice to say that didn’t reveal too much. “You are the perfect muse.”

  Will's eyes seemed to penetrate her. He tapped his thumbs against her arm and then slipped his hands away. “I see... You’re right. I should return to the ballroom. It’s rude of me to have stayed away for so long. And there’s Raven. I hardly get to see him. Have you no plans to return to the ballroom? We could stroll or…”

  “I should see to my grandmother.”

  He smiled. “Well then, Let me return you to her.”

  He gave her his hand long enough to help her over the music cases that were now even more scattered than before thanks to the scuffle with Northborough.

  He let her go at the door and then walked her to the women’s room. “I hope our time together has given you more inspiration.”

  “It has.”

  He bowed. “Then I bid you a good evening.” He cut away and Camilla narrowed her eyes at his back. She had a feeling that Will was upset with her, but she couldn’t figure out what would have caused the change.

  It was the smile that had left her discontented. It had been too bright. Too forced. But then, perhaps so had her own. Maybe he was hiding just as much as she was.

  She set it all aside as she approached her grandmother’s side.

  She woke the dowager. “Are you ready to go?”

  Her grandmother came awake slowly and then smiled. “Oh, yes. I’ve had a wonderful time, Camilla. Thank you for accompanying me. You’re the perfect granddaughter.”

  The dowager’s touching words soothed the tightness that had taken root in Camilla’s chest.

  * * *

  “So, are you ready to tell me the truth about Lady Camilla?”

  Will turned his head and looked over at Raven. His friend lounged on the couch across the parlor. Without a lamp burning, the fireplace lent barely enough light to make out his form much less his face, but the flare of his cigar shined whenever he took a pull.

  The soothing smell filled the air.

  He also knew the other man held a glass of brandy in his hand identical to the one Will held in his own.

  Will sat in a wingback chair with his legs tossed over one of the arms and his neck resting on the other. He was comfortable with his position but not the topic. “I told you everything there was to say. She’s a writer. I’m her muse and nothing more.”

  She was a clever artist. The way she’d molded herself to him on the balcony and again in the makeshift rehearsal room… He’d almost believed she’d wanted it for herself and not for the book.

  I miss you. Had the words been said with any true feeling? Had she meant she only missed him for the sake of her writing but not for herself?

  It was likely she’d kissed him for the same reason she’d kissed Anthony.

  He closed his eyes and thought of the fool he’d been.

  He’d been there with her, touching her, trying to convey his pitiful bleeding heart to her and all the while… she’d been somewhere else. She’d been gathering material for her work, using him as he’d told her she could.

  “You want more, don’t you?” Raven said.

  “I’m the same fool I’ve always been.” Will kept his eyes closed. “Always wanting more than what I have.”

  “There’s no shame in wanting to be loved, Will. All men want it in some fashion or another. Even God. You’re just brave enough to admit it.”

  Brave. She’d called him that once.

  He still felt like a fool.

  And then there was Annie…

  “It wouldn’t have worked.”

  “You’re an earl. She’s a marquess’ daughter. I believe that is exactly how it works.”

  Will said nothing.

  “This is about Annie, isn’t it?” Raven said. “I told you to leave that girl alone. There was something not right about her.”

  “I recall,” he drawled.

  Raven adjusted himself on the couch. “What could you truly expect from that family? Her father used to butcher men in the name of science. He made the leech doctors seem far more attractive.”

  “I know.”

  “Has she killed her husband yet?” Raven asked. “You know it’s only a matter of time. Now that you’re an earl, she’ll want you more. She’ll want to be a countess.”

  Will said nothing.

  “And you’ll give her what she wants.” His friend’s tone held
disgust. “Don’t do it. Don’t you dare shackle us to that woman.” He groaned. “You’re my brother in every sense of the word, but… I can’t imagine visiting you during holidays and seeing her. I’ll be next to get the boot. You’ll be burying me once she realizes I hate her. Then you’ll be next, you know. The moment she realizes her delusions of love are simply of her own mind, she’ll be done with you.”

  “She won’t kill me. She isn’t that clever.”

  “You’re just as delusional as her if you actually think that. I wouldn’t be surprised if she began her search for your Mistress of Poisons the moment she saw you were titled.”

  Will glared at him in the dark. “You’re really in a mood. Why am I under attack?”

  Raven was quiet for a long stretch of time. “I’ve never seen you look at any woman the way you looked at Camilla.”

  He sat up enough to toss his brandy back before settling back own. The burn distracted him from a different ache in his chest. “I’m not in love with her.”

  “I don’t know if that’s true, but even if it is, it won’t be long until you do love her.” Raven paused again. “Where did you disappear to after your dance with Lady Loudmouth?”

  Will burst with laughter and then slowly slipped into a chuckle. “It’s Louly.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Will chuckled again. He thought of Camilla. “I went after Camilla after the dance.”

  “Of course, you did. What happened?”

  It did not escape Will’s notice that only Raven got away with speaking to him this way. Their history made him accept it because he knew Raven cared. Raven would die for him.

  The only other person he’d allowed to speak so condescending to him with little complaint was… Camilla.

  And she didn’t even care about him.

  She was worse than the others who looked at him like he was something that belonged in an exhibit at the fair. When she sought to use him, he let her in... and she left him feeling less than nothing.

  Will told Raven about Northborough. “I’ve already spoken to Van Dero. He’ll be dealt with this week.”

  “And the maid?” Raven asked. “Is she safe?”

  “As safe as any maid in any house can be,” Will said. “Milly offered to let her work here, but Cassius said no.”

  Raven took in a long dramatic breath. “Cassius told Milly no?

  I need to know his exact words. I’ve seen Cassius and Milly a few times in the last year. He rarely tells her no. You’d think the title of duchess had greater power than that of duke.”

  Will sighed. “Women do have their power… Cassius said no because Milly has already taken in more than a few strays. Cassius called them strays.”

  “Of course, he did,” Raven drawled. The duke’s words were rarely filtered. “And he’s right. The duke can’t employ the world, though he does employ a far greater amount of people than most realize. With all his holdings, investments, and businesses… I’d guess he employees at least one percent of the city.”

  “One percent? That’s quite extreme.”

  “Is it? Well, maybe he simply controls one percent.”

  Will grunted. “He controls more than one percent.” He remembered the way the maid had relaxed once he’d promised to tell Ven Dero about the matter. “He is greatly respected.”

  “With Camilla a witness to your attack against Northborough, she can’t help but feel something for you.”

  “Yes, I’m certain she found it entertaining, something she could write about.”

  “No, I saw the way she looked at you as well. She wants more than your thoughts, brother. She wants everything.”

  Will placed his empty cup on a nearby table. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about your lady of interest.”

  Raven’s wolfish grin came through his words. “Which one?”

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  3 8

  * * *

  Camilla was writing in the drawing room when her father appeared in the doorway. There was rage in his gray eyes.

  “You were invited to the ball last evening and didn’t tell me?”

  Camilla stiffened. Her father was rarely this angry.

  He lifted a brow and then he looked at Camilla’s book. He marched across the room and snatched it from the table. Then he turned to the door, taking her entire world with him.

  Camilla stood. “Wait! What are you doing?”

  He couldn’t have the book. She had nothing else.

  Lord Hornstein looked at her. “If I can’t get what I want then neither will you. You’ll get your book back when I have my audience with the duke. I’m telling Luke as well. You are not to publish unless I say so.”

  Camilla’s nostrils flared with anger, but there was no greater feeling than her pain. In seconds, her world had been flipped upside down. Her quiet morning, her happiness ripped from her hands.

  Would he truly do this to her?

  No. Her father had never been this cruel before. She had to help him see the truth. The truth would set this right. “It wasn’t my invitation. I went with grandmother.”

  The marquess narrowed his eyes. “My mother took you?”

  Camilla nodded. “I d-didn’t even know where we were going or who would be there until I was in the carriage.” She stared down at the book in his hand as tears ran down her face. She wiped at them silently.

  He was quiet and she waited for his judgment. “You may have your book back.”

  Camilla took a shuddering breath.

  “But only after my audience with the duke.”

  “Father, I don’t know the duke.” Even now, she feared him a little.

  “Or you find me the female doctor,” he said. “Either or.”

  She paused as she remembered this was about Julia and it was clear he’d do anything for his new family. She and her mother were nothing to him. It hurt. The pain was of a magnitude that nearly had her knees buckling underneath her.

  She wanted to shout at him but didn’t. Shouting had never gotten her mother anything from this man. Neither had tears.

  So instead, Camilla nodded. She was still too hurt to speak. If she opened her mouth now, she’d start crying.

  How could he?

  His cold gaze softened after a moment. “You must understand… she’s dying.”

  Camilla said nothing. What was the point? Until Julia was happy again, no one could be happy. She hated Julia, but she hated her father more.

  She’d never hated him before, but now she did.

  She was angry enough to strip herself of anything he’d ever bought her and storm from the house. She had her money from the books. Her father and brother had never bothered to concern themselves with it, and Camilla had only used enough of it to buy gifts on holidays.

  She could leave. But then what?

  This man would still own her. His reach would stretch beyond the city. There was nowhere she could go and not belong to this man.

  That was the life of a woman.

  He’d taken her book. He could easily take her money as well.

  Francine came into the room and Camilla waited for her mother to speak. But she didn’t. Instead, she sat on the couch and motioned Camilla to join her.

  Camilla went to her and once seated, Francine’s arms went around her.

  “I’ll get you the audience with the duke,” Francine said. “I’ll get you one today.”

  Camilla stiffened and looked at her mother.

  Marcel shifted. “You?”

  “I’ve been writing Milly, the duchess,” Francine said. “Actually, she wrote to me this morning. I could take you now, if you’re ready.”

  Camilla hadn’t known her mother had formed a relationship with the Duchess of Van Dero.

  “Good,” her father said before turning to Camilla and holding out the book.

  Camilla stood and walked to her father. She wrapped her fingers around the leather, but Marcel wouldn’t let it go.

  “I expect a little gratitude,”
he said.

  Camilla frowned at him. Gratitude? He’d done nothing but be a bully. It was her mother who deserved her praise. But Camilla’s entire world was right here in her fingers. She would keep her opinions to herself. “Thank you.”

  In a softer tone, he said, “Smile and say it again.” There was teasing now, but she knew that if she refused, the teasing would vanish and she’d lose the book.

  So she smiled and pulled in a breath. “Thank you, Father.”

  He let the book go and turned to Francine. “I’ll be in the carriage.” He left then.

  Camilla turned to her mother just as Francine stood. “Thank you.”

  Francine wrapped her arms around her and held her close. “I’m sorry he’s doing this to you. I fear it’s my fault.”

  Camilla buried her face in her mother’s neck and noticed the marchioness didn’t smell like spirits for once. She pulled away to meet her mother’s eyes. “Why is it your fault?”

  She shrugged. “He’s failed to anger me these last few visits. I think he liked my shouting.” She touched Camilla’s hair. “Silly enough, I think he enjoys when people shout at him.”

  Camilla sighed. “That might not be silly at all. The shouting means he has control and that you care for his opinion.” Camilla had always wondered what her father would do if Francine stopped yelling at him.

  Now she knew. His daughter had become his new target.

  “I won’t let him bother you again.” Francine was still playing with her hair.

  “How?”

  Her mother smiled. “We women have our ways. Are you coming with us?”

  Camilla shook her head. “Are you sure you’ll be all right with him?”

  Francine touched her cheek. “I’ll be fine.” She left the room and then the house sometime later.

  Still upset, Camilla walked to her brother’s house. She knew that Emily would be at a charity meeting and Luke would be working on his ledgers. He’d forbidden her from coming when he was busy calculating, but this morning was different.

  He had to know.

  She wanted to tell him everything that had happened that morning. He’d take her side. He hated Father as much as she did. He’d hated Father first.