Lured Into Sin By The Wicked Earl (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Olivia Bennet

  The last time that I was truly content was before I was anyone’s heir.

  He recalled his resolution to live for himself and not for the ton. He was going to have to come up with a new invention and soon. He needed something workable. He had begun to cobble two ideas together. If there was a way to combine them, then the result would be applicable to other industries, as well as tobacco.

  He left the letter to be posted, and then returned to his lab. Before he did, he rang the bell. He needed a pot of tea, and maybe some scones, as he’d barely touched his breakfast.

  * * *

  “They’ll be calling us soon,” Lucy muttered as she and Susannah were having tea and scones. “His lordship is likely having his meals in the laboratory.”

  “I can deliver it, if you’d like,” Susannah offered.

  “Would you mind?” Lucy asked.

  “Not at all. I know the house now.”

  Susannah sipped her tea and then added butter to her scone. In front of her, she had a poetry pamphlet open on the table. The other day, she and Lucy had gone out shopping. For the first time ever, Susannah had money to spend on whatever she wanted. She’d snapped up several inexpensive books of poetry.

  “Susannah,” Mrs. Braithwaite called. Susannah stood up, popping the last bite of scone into her mouth. She tucked her pamphlet into her pocket. Lucy waved to her, her cup of tea against her lips.

  “Yes, Mrs. Braithwaite?” Susannah asked.

  “Bring this tray up to the Earl in his lab,” Mrs. Braithwaite ordered, holding out a tray laden with tea and freshly baked scones. Susannah took it. “All you’re to do is knock and leave it on the floor just outside of the door. Do you understand? He wants tea, but not to be disturbed. It’s the most important rule in this house.”

  “Yes, Madam.”

  Her arms felt shaky as she approached the door to the lab. She was curious as she had never seen the inside of the room. She set the tray down, then knocked.

  “Yes?” the Earl called out from within.

  “The tray you ordered is outside, My Lord,” she called out.

  “Bring it inside, would you?” he replied, to her excitement.

  She smiled to herself, then picked it up, opening the door. Her heart was hammering against her sternum as she stepped inside. Her hands shook a little, causing the delicate china to make a soft clinking sound.

  The room was filled with all manner of things. Her eyes feasted on the image of him, standing with his hands on his slim hips. He was leaning over the worktable which was covered with papers and things for which Susannah had no words to describe.

  She glanced around at the shelves which were filled with neat rows of glass bottles, tools, and all manner of object. She was deeply curious to know what each thing was for.

  “Please leave it there,” he murmured, gesturing toward a table which was scattered with papers, quills, and books. “Could you grab me that screwdriver from the counter?”

  “Yes, My Lord,” she said, setting the tray down. She turned to the counter relieved to see that there was only one tool out there. She didn’t know much about tools or their use. As a vicar’s daughter, she hadn’t the occasion for it. Her father hired men to do repair work. She picked it up, walking quickly over to him and setting it down near his hand.

  Her pulse raced as she looked at it, his fingers were stained purple with ink. His palm was wide, covered in a ridge of calluses. His hand was well-formed, with long, articulated fingers. She had the sudden desire to touch it.

  What would it be like, to brush my fingers against his skin?

  “Would you hold this?” he asked. He was pinching two ends of the wire holding it in place against the wooden stand. He gestured for her to take it.

  “How?” she replied, wondering what he was doing. It looked like nothing she’d ever seen before. There were coils of silver and copper wires.

  “Hold that right there,” he ordered. “Just pinch the wires together, so I can solder them.” She did as he said, jumping when he snapped a metal device, causing bright sparks.

  “Your fingers are more agile than mine,” he mused as he held a flame to the metal. She watched, holding the wire steady as it melted together. It flared a deep orange color.

  She blushed bright crimson. “Thank you, My Lord,” she said. He grunted in response. She remained still while he worked. She knew that he was concentrating. She wasn’t sure what he was making. It seemed to be some sort of device. As he worked, she tried to imagine what it was for. Her mind was blank. She supposed that it was nothing, yet.

  Meanwhile, her skin tingled at their nearness. His breath was warm against her arm, emanating through her sleeve. Beneath the sleeve of her dress, her skin rose in goosebumps. She knew that she was blushing. She could smell the scent of him, which she knew from changing the sheets on his bed.

  How odd this is. This nearness. It would be so scandalous for us to be alone together. Father would be in such a rage.

  She wondered if he was feeling what she was at that moment. That same awakening. She had never felt so alive before. She watched him work, his concentration was so intense. He frowned, slightly, his brows came together. She watched his features, her heart pounding. As she watched him, she felt that blooming inside of her.

  She watched, as he moved closer to her. She could feel his warmth. As he worked, his hand brushed against hers. She knew that he didn’t see her at all. She ached for him to notice her, to look at her with the same intensity with which he was giving whatever device he was making.

  Chapter 7

  Adam’s attention was wholly focused on his work. The maid helped him, without asking questions. When he asked, she got him the tool requested, again. It was a relief to not have to explain anything. It was the most productive half an hour that he’d had in years. He inhaled, smelling the gentle scent of her hair, it was soft, sweet.

  He suddenly woke up; here he was, alone with his maid, keeping her from her own work. Not only was it improper, it was also a gross misuse of her time.

  He looked at her. She was looking down at the device, frowning thoughtfully. A few strands of her hair had fallen out of her bun, framing her face. He took in her brown eyes, which were studying the device curiously.

  He cleared his throat, and she looked at him. Her mouth was open, her full, pouty lips shaped like Cupid’s bow. She licked her lips, awakening something within him.

  Who knew that lips could be so perfectly shaped?

  “I…I’m so sorry,” he stammered, stumbling over his words. “I must be keeping you from your duties. I am so grateful to you for your help.”

  She nodded, setting down the device gently, almost reverently. She curtsied quickly, keeping her eyes lowered. He stood frozen in place as he watched her gaze rise to meet his. He stood there, his mouth hanging open. There, in her eyes, he saw himself mirrored. He wondered what she was thinking of. She must have thought him very eccentric. He was captivated by the small, half-smile she gave him.

  “It has been most diverting,” she replied, her smile spreading. Panic flashed across her features. “My Lord.” Adam heard the North in her accent. He had never spoken to her before.

  “You’re the new maid,” he said, recalling. “The…the one who lost her family.”

  “I am,” she replied. “I am so grateful to you for the opportunity to work here. And for you paying my fare into London. That was immensely kind of you.”

  “It was the least I could do,” he replied, his cheeks warming. “Are you settling in well?” He wondered how long she had been there. It had to have been several days, at least.

  “Very much so,” she replied.

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” He cleared his throat. “What is your name?”

  “Susannah, My Lord,” she said.

  “I…I’m Lord Malmore,” he replied.

  She smiled. “I know, My Lord.”

  “Yes, I suppose you would.” He stood there, trying to think of something else to say.
He ran his fingers through his hair. He had never before felt so flustered in anyone’s presence before. She had caught him entirely unaware. He chalked it up to lack of sleep.

  “Is that all, My Lord?” she asked.

  “Yes. I daresay I’ve kept you for long enough.”

  She curtsied again and then walked from the room. She moved quickly, though her movements were graceful. He stood, watching her leave. She paused by the door, glancing back.

  “Don’t forget your tea, My Lord,” she said, gesturing with her chin.

  His eyes went to the tray, where the pot and the scones sat. As per usual, the pot was on top of a little metal warmer where a small tealight flickered.

  “Yes,” he said, not recalling when he had asked for them. “Thank you,” he said, going over and pouring himself a cup. When he glanced back toward the door, she had gone.

  * * *

  As Susannah walked back downstairs, she recalled the moment when he had finally seen her. The way that his eyes had lit up, the way he’d gasped, his mouth hanging agape. When he had, she had felt the attraction instantly. It could go nowhere, of course. A gentleman didn’t fall in love with a maid. She knew that.

  She felt agitated and excited at the same time. She had no idea what had come over her. She had minor flirtations with young men in her small town of Lidcote before, but nothing like this. She hadn’t returned the feelings.

  When Susannah returned to the kitchen, Mrs. Braithwaite peered out of her office. “Susannah. I sent you up almost forty minutes ago. Where have you been?” she asked curiously.

  “Lord Malmore asked me to help clean a spill in the laboratory.” It was a half-truth, although the other maids were in the servants’ dining room listening for gossip, as usual. She didn’t want anyone to say that Lord Malmore had acted improperly.

  “Ah,” Mrs. Braithwaite said. Spills happened often and usually Lord Malmore didn’t want to clean them himself. Lucy had told her. “It took you half an hour?”

  “I don’t know much about chemical spills, Mrs. Braithwaite.”

  “You should have Lucy explain,” she said. “It’s useful knowledge in this house.”

  “I will. Am I needed for anything?”

  “Well, the fireplace in the parlor and the master bedroom need wood,” Mrs. Braithwaite said. “His lordship doesn’t often have guests, but he might of an evening sit up there. After that, the floor in the dining room could use a sweeping before his lordship wants his dinner.”

  “Of course, Madam.” She curtsied.

  As she was walking to go and get some firewood, she ran into Lucy. Her friend smiled at her.

  “And where have you been?” she asked. “I thought you’d only be gone for a few minutes. You didn’t accidentally get lost, did you?”

  “I was helping his lordship with an experiment,” she admitted. After all, Lucy was her close friend and confidant. If she hid anything from her, it would be tantamount to a crime.

  Lucy gave her an odd look. “What are you trying to do?” she hissed, grabbing Susannah’s upper arm and ferrying her out through the back door.

  “Nothing,” she said, honestly.

  “I know you, Susannah Humphries,” Lucy whispered as the two of them went out to the yard in back. While Susannah held the bucket, Lucy filled it with firewood.

  “What do you know of me, Lucy?” she shot back. Out there, they could talk freely.

  “I know how you are when you find a man you fancy,” she said. “You’re a bit of a flirt.”

  “I am not,” Susannah replied. She was, a little. She would hide it from her father’s ever-watchful eye. At one point, she had believed that marriage would be an escape. She had soon discovered that it was not, luckily before she had attempted to elope.

  “You might be a vicar’s daughter, but you are a flirt,” Lucy said. “You need to be careful when you’re around gentlemen. They have the same appetites as a simple farm boy, but the difference is they won’t marry you if they get you in the family way.”

  “Watch your talk,” Susannah replied. “I’m not going to do—”

  “You say that now, but I’ve seen it happen, several times.” She touched Susannah on the arm. “Just be careful,” Lucy told her in a low voice. “Gentlemen don’t fall in love with ordinary women. They might use them to take their pleasures, but they won’t marry them after. You might end up with child and out of a job.”

  Susannah sighed and nodded. She had no doubt that Lucy knew what she was talking about. She had been in London and in service for two years now. Susannah was just learning about the world outside of Yorkshire. It was far more dangerous than she had expected.

  “I see what you’re saying,” she replied. “I promise you, I won’t lose my mind. I’ll keep my distance.”

  “That’s all you can do,” Lucy said, the look of concern still on her face. “Come on. Let’s go. Day’s a’wasting.”

  * * *

  For the first night in ages, Adam was plunged into a deep sleep. After the work that he had achieved that day, his mind was finally ready to allow his body to rest.

  He was in his room, which was lit by firelight. He stepped closer to the woman who stood by his bed, her back to him. She wore only a corset and petticoat. Her long hair was loose, flung over her left shoulder to bare the back of her neck, her skin luminous in the firelight.

  He reached up, undoing the laces of the corset. As he pulled it open, he trailed kisses down her spine. He wove his fingers through her soft hair, nuzzling her neck with his nose. He inhaled her scent, kissing her cheek.

  Who is she?

  She was an enchantress and he was caught in her spell.

  “Look at me,” he ordered gently, his voice husky with lust. She turned, her eyes meeting his. He looked at her, recognition dawning on him.

  It was the maid, the new one, Susannah. She clasped the corset to herself. Her lips were there in front of him, bow-shaped, pink, and begging to be kissed. He leaned in capturing them with his own. She moaned, softly against his mouth. His whole being craved her, he was going to make her his.

  He pulled away, tugging at her corset. She let go of it and it fell to the floor. She stood in front of him as well-formed as any statue of Venus.

  He reached for her, his hands touching her. Her skin was silken beneath his hands. His desire for her was a fire, consuming him entirely.

  He lifted her, setting her onto his bed. She lay back, allowing him to do as he pleased. As he trailed kisses down over her sternum, then down her stomach, she moaned with pleasure. She opened her legs to him and he looked down at her, naked beneath him. She sat up staring at him.

  “Do you want me?” she asked him, her voice low and husky. He should have known that she was a flirt by the bold way that she had eyed him in his lab the day before. It made him desire her even more.

  “Yes,” he replied, reaching up to brush her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. He undid the buttons on his breeches, then leaned over her, plunging himself inside of her.

  He woke, suddenly. He was in his room, alone. The fire in the grate was burning low but the light in the room was the same as in his dream. He exhaled sharply. He was hot and bothered, covered in sweat.

  He sat up, recalling every moment of his dream. He ran a hand through his hair in agitation as he recalled, in extreme detail, the way in which he had ravished his new house maid.

  Oh, dear.

  Chapter 8

  Adam began to pay more attention to the servants over the next few days. He began to learn Susannah’s daily movements throughout the house. He didn’t dare ask Mr. Howard or Mrs. Braithwaite. They would suspect that something untoward was happening. After all, there were rumors a plenty of gentlemen being bewitched by their maids. Any whiff of a rumor of some sort of scandal would send Lord and Lady Wiltshire down to London to rescue him from his poor decisions.

  He knew that he should focus on his work. Yet, he found himself sitting in the library at the time that he knew she would b
e in there dusting. He was seated, newspaper open, when the door opened. He had lingered there for more than an hour.

  “I’m sorry, My Lord,” she said. “I didn’t know that you were in here. I’ll come back later.”

  He lowered the paper. “Oh, please don’t. Stay. Don’t mind me.”

  She curtsied, then turned to her work. He lifted the paper and watched her over it. He was utterly struck by the grace of her movements. She reached up, running the duster over the books. As she worked, she climbed up onto the wooden ladder to get the shelves up at the top.