A Wicked Earl she can't Resist: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Olivia Bennet

  “But–!”

  “No, Nancy. I said no.”

  He gave her a pointed look before picking up his fork again.

  “It isn’t even a dance troupe. Just a single singer.” Nancy spoke quickly so he couldn’t stop her again.

  Duncan shook his head. His first-born daughter was just like her mother. She always had to have the last word.

  “My answer remains the same.”

  “Please, Father!” she flung her fork dramatically onto her plate and leaned forward to gaze at him with pleading eyes.

  Duncan almost laughed but managed to maintain a serious mien as he sighed heavily. “You still have six months to go before your birthday, my love. Pace yourself.”

  He went back to his food, ignoring his child although he could feel her eyes boring into him. To his relief, the footman soon came in to announce that the physician had arrived.

  Duncan got to his feet as the man entered the room. “Mr. Evans,” he gestured for the man to sit before seating himself. “I understand my household called upon you last night. You have my gratitude for responding in a timely fashion.”

  The physician waved away his words. “It is my duty. How fares the boy today?”

  “Well, according to my housekeeper, he is doing fairly well.”

  “Your housekeeper? I thought she was your governess?”

  Duncan cocked an eyebrow, “You are referring to Miss Fletcher?”

  The physician nodded.

  “As I understand it, she spent the night with the boy and is now at rest. I have not spoken to her.”

  Mr. Evans nodded in understanding and got heavily to his feet. “Well then, I shall check on the boy and let you know how he is momentarily.”

  Duncan gestured for the footman to show Mr. Evans to Harry’s room and then turned around, fiddling with his tea cup as he waited. Mrs. Cooke came in, on the pretext that she needed to refill the plate of kippers but Duncan knew she was just as anxious to hear how Harry was as he himself. Nancy fidgeted in her chair but did not move as well.

  He heard Anne’s high piping voice in the corridor speaking to somebody and remembered that he had asked her to join him quite some time ago. He could well guess where she had been instead. He turned his head as the door opened and his younger daughter preceded the physician into the room.

  “Lady Anne, how nice of you to join us,” Duncan said sarcastically.

  She blushed bright red yet still gave him a defiant look, crossing her arms. “I wasn’t hungry.”

  The physician smiled. “I found her holding vigil for the boy. Quite unnecessary as I informed her that his fever seems to have broken and he is merely sleeping peacefully. No doubt the night was far from restful and his body does need the rest in order to recover. I advise you to let him sleep as long as he likes. Perhaps someone can take him some soup for when he awakes.”

  Anne lifted her hand. “I’ll do it.”

  Mr. Evans looked to her with a bow and a smile. “Much obliged then, My Lady. I am sure your brother will appreciate your solicitude.”

  She simply nodded as Mrs. Cooke straightened up from where she was leaning on the side board. “I shall get cook to make some chicken soup which is quite good even when eaten cold.” She declared before leaving the room. Anne made to follow her, but Duncan made a quelling sound in his throat.

  “You, my dear, need to eat as well. So take some breakfast and then you shall be allowed to feed your brother. Otherwise I shall take the food up myself and you will not be allowed anywhere near Harry’s room until you have eaten.”

  Anne made a harrumphing sound and sulkily stomped to the table where she was immediately served with a full plate of food. She picked up her fork, still looking disgruntled and waded through it. Duncan bit back a smile as he reflected how very much his daughter resembled a drowned kitten at the moment.

  He turned back to his own meal knowing that the dramatics would only increase if either of his daughters thought she had an audience.

  Emily tossed and turned, unable to rest even though she was bone tired. A night spent sitting up in a chair while getting up from time to time to wipe Lord Essex down, feed him willow bark tea or whisky or just make sure he was not too warm or too hot, had taken its toll.

  But with all that worry, and fear of what would happen if Lord Essex died while she was watching over him, it was hard to quiet her mind to sleep. She took her blanket and went to sit in the window seat, watching the passing traffic on the street.

  She knew Mrs. Cooke would come and get her should the boy take a turn for the worse. Furthermore, his lordship was expected back today. So really there was no need for her to be so agitated. Everything was coming down hard on her at the moment.

  I’m not qualified to be a governess or to have a child left in my care! What if he had died? What if I inadvertently killed him?

  Her hands were shaking just from the thought of all the things that could have gone wrong. She felt the need to go straight to the Earl and confess her lack of qualifications. He simply could not leave her in charge of his children in such a cavalier manner.

  Emily could feel the hysteria building inside her and wished she had carried the whisky with her. She could have done with a nice large infusion of it at that moment.

  A tentative knock at the door had her jerking in startlement. “C-come in,” her voice shook quite unsteadily and she hoped it was not one of the children on the other side of the door. She did not think she could hide her distress from them.

  To her relief, it was Betsey who stepped in the room, carrying a steaming bowl.

  “I thought I’d leave this here for you for later. I thought for sure you’d be asleep.” She straightened up, folded her hands and quirked an eyebrow at Emily.

  “Well, I thought I’d be asleep too but I cannot quiet my mind. Don’t suppose you have any whisky with you there?”

  Betsey shook her head, putting her hand in the front pocket of her apron. “I did get some laudanum from the physician this morning. Just a little. He said it would not do to have a household entirely without it, regardless of what the Earl says.”

  “Oh…” Emily stared at it. “Won’t you get in trouble for having it?”

  “Only if you tell.” Betsey turned around and poured a dollop of laudanum in her soup. “Now eat up and get some rest.”

  She recorked the bottle and dropped it back in her pockets, “You still have children who are counting on you. And if I read the Earl correctly, an adult as well.”

  Emily took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Crossing the room in two steps she spooned some soup into her mouth, and then a bit more. Betsey smiled approvingly, “That’s my girl. I’ll see you when you awake. I’m sure Lady Nancy at least will be glad to have the day off.”

  Emily tried her best to smile, but ultimately failed.

  Chapter 18

  Duncan divided the rest of the day between his children, spending the morning with Nancy in the library, reading quietly. In the afternoon, he sat with Harry–who had finally woke up–and Anne as they played quietly with their life-size theatre model. Or rather, Anne moved the pieces about under Harry’s very creative instruction, as he clapped and laughed–inviting Duncan to laugh along with him.

  He truly was so glad to see his children contented and Harry was clearly recovering well. Every hour, a footman brought a lukewarm beverage for Harry to consume; either soup or cocoa, tea or even ice. His cheeks were once again rosy and there was a shine to his eyes as he basked in the attention.

  He expected some jealousy from Anne but she too, fawned over her brother. Duncan realized then how afraid she must have been. When he deemed that they were flagging, he declared that it was time they had a nap and proceeded to read them an excerpt from his book so that they might get sleepy.

  Even after their eyes were closed and their breaths were evened out, he continued to read, realizing that he rarely had such quiet moments with his children. He had been too distracted by outside influenc
es, too preoccupied with his business to truly appreciate the gift of his children.

  He vowed to do better in future.

  After all, what am I working so hard for, if not for them?

  Seeing that his children were truly sleeping, he got to his feet and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. In the corridor he bumped into his steward, Henry, who apparently had papers for him to sign.

  “The bolts of cloth you ordered have arrived, My Lord. Shall I have Mrs. Cooke summon the mantua maker?” he asked as Duncan looked over the papers.

  The Earl made a vague sound of consent, most of his concentration taken with the words in front of him. He trusted his staff but that did not mean he didn’t read every word of any document he was requested to sign. It was simply prudent and avoided a lot of misunderstanding later on. His father had taught him that.

  He remembered ordering the bolts of cloth right after Lady Chelsea’s ball, thinking that Miss Fletcher–as well as both his girls–could do with a few more choices of clothes especially if she was going to take on the role of chaperone. However, he knew it was somewhat overstepping his bounds to be assisting his governess with her fashion choices and that was why he’d enlisted Mrs. Cooke’s help.

  He knew that Miss Fletcher liked the housekeeper and was comfortable enough with her to take the gift without too much fuss. He wasn’t so blind that he had not noticed how few clothes she had. He wondered about it sometimes. She was clearly well-read but also in reduced circumstances. She had told him her father was still alive but there was something there that she was angry about.

  It was intriguing and he found that he wished to know every last thing about her. He decided that he would make up his mind when he saw her at dinner.

  Her dreams were so vivid. She knew that they must be because her waking world was nothing like this. It felt so real however.

  She was floating in the air, weightless. Knowing there was a bed below her but not needing it. The air cushioned her as she floated, a kaleidoscope of colors whirling around her like a rainbow. It ebbed and flowed as if playing a game of catch with her and she wanted to laugh out loud, but found that she couldn’t.

  Still, she knew that she was laughing uncontrollably on the inside, while also knowing she was lying abed. Wanting to get up but her body was paralyzed. Trying to call for help but her lips were sealed.

  Then he was there, floating beside her, his ice-blue eyes soft as he quieted her and told her that everything was all right.

  “You’re safe,” he whispered, his hand running up and down her arm and causing shivers to frisson through her.

  No, I’m not.

  She still could not speak but he seemed to hear her all the same. He moved closer, blanketing her with his body.

  “As long as you’re with me, nothing can hurt you.”

  She subsided, all worry draining out of her at his words. They felt as if they were true. His soft chestnut hair brushed against her forehead as he leaned in, kissing her the same way he had done in the garden. He was passionate, plundering the depths of her mouth, his arms like steel bands around her. She surrendered to him, opening her mouth wide and letting him in. Letting his tongue play tag with hers.

  She tried to say his name but floundered. He was not My Lord but even in her mind she was not so forward as to call him Duncan, stolen kisses or not. She flailed, holding tight onto him and trying to think of a way to let him know that she wanted more. Her paralyzed body wanted to squirm but she still could not move.

  What is happening to me?

  Duncan walked hopefully into the dining hall, his eyes automatically going to the bottom of the table where the governess was supposed to sit. He almost stopped short in disappointment to find her seat empty although his three children were loud and present.

  He managed to cover the stutter in his step and made for his chair at the head of the table.

  “Good evening,” he smiled at his children, noting that Harry was still flushed but looking well.

  “Good evening, Father.” It wasn’t quite a chorus but it was close nevertheless.

  The serving girls came forward with the soup and Duncan opened his mouth, the words spilling out before he could keep them in.

  “Is Miss Fletcher not joining us?”

  “I believe she is still resting, My Lord,” the serving girl said softly as she scooped more soup into his bowl. Duncan picked up his spoon, swallowing his disappointment.

  “She must have been very tired.”

  “I can go and wake her if you wish, My Lord?”

  Duncan hesitated, wondering if he should disturb her rest in such a way. Then he glanced at Harry, and a frisson of guilt ran threw him. She had watched over his child all night. The least he could do was let her rest. He breathed in deeply but discreetly.

  “No, no. It is fine. Let her sleep. Make sure you take her something to eat however, for when she wakes up.”

  “Of course, My Lord. Mrs. Cooke already dispatched a tray.”

  “Very good.”

  Nancy frowned. “You know that you don’t have to make sure all the help has eaten don’t you, Father? That’s what Mrs. Cooke is for.”

  Duncan gave her a strained smile. “Thank you very much, daughter, for your input. However, I remind you that the welfare of the staff is a part of my responsibility as an employer and one day, it will be part of yours. It does not pay to be callous especially to the people you have entrusted to see to your needs.”

  He gave her a pointed look as he said it and was gratified when she lowered her head, her cheeks showing her colors. It was his duty to teach her how to be a proper lady, but sometimes he despaired of the job he was doing. Other times he felt like an abject failure.

  They need a woman’s touch.

  He looked around at all three of his children, Anne and Harry whispering together, very likely plotting some mischief or other. While his first born acted like a resentful brat, full of unhappiness.

  What can I do to make you happy?

  He did not have the answer.

  What can I do to make me happy?

  Perhaps if he knew the answer to that, he could solve all their problems. He thought back to his own father and what he might say about happiness and how it took second place to duty.

  He had done his duty with his wife, and had tried to do the same with his children. Judging by the outcomes, he had to say that in his opinion, duty was most definitely not enough.

  His bowl was taken from him and he realized he’d finished his soup without noticing. It was replaced with steak and potatoes, gently steaming and giving off a delicious aroma. If his mind wasn’t whirling with confusion, he might enjoy it more.

  “Papa, what’s the matter?” Anne’s soft voice got him out of his reverie and he did his best to smile at her.

  “Nothing darling. Just thinking.”

  Anne’s brow furrowed with worry. “Does it hurt?”

  Duncan barked with surprised laughter, as he shook his head at his daughter. “I do hope not.”

  Anne smiled uncertainly back as if she hadn’t meant to make a joke at all. He reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day. I traveled all night and then you terrors kept me busy all day.”

  “You should have taken a nap with us.” Harry said, his mouth full of potato.

  “I should have indeed. Perhaps tomorrow I shall. For today, I must just soldier on.”

  He grinned at the twins who smiled back. Even Nancy bit her lip to hide a grin. He suddenly felt much more hopeful about his parenting. Perhaps they were not as hopeless as he had thought.

  “So tell me, how are you faring with Miss Fletcher? Are you enjoying having her around?”

  “The eclipse was a lot of fun,” Anne declared at once, almost shouting at the top of her voice as she grinned at him.

  “Yes, that was enjoyable. But I think Harry might have gotten sick because of sleeping outside so we won’t do it again soon.”

 
; Harry immediately frowned. “No! It wasn’t that. I just got sick because I wasn’t feeling well. Please Father? Can we go out on the next eclipse?” he turned puppy dog eyes on Duncan and he was hard pressed to say no to them.

  “We’ll see.”

  “We’ll wear three jackets and cover ourselves with five blankets! Promise!” Anne added her voice to the plea.

  Duncan sighed. “Well, I expect we have some time until the next eclipse so we’ll see.”