The Earl of Pembroke

by Lauren Smith

  “And he will. He loves you both so much.” Gillian wanted to say something, anything that might help, but she knew by the look on Letty’s face it wasn’t the right thing.

  Letty wiped her tears. “My mother has just died. Don’t you think you owe my brother the truth about who you really are? If this is some game you’re playing to get a title and money, I won’t let you hurt James. Not after losing our mother.”

  “The truth?” Gillian echoed, her heart pounding on her ribs. Letty knew—somehow she had discovered who she really was. Dread knotted in her stomach.

  “Yes. The truth. If you won’t tell him who you really are, I will. And then you can explain to him what you really want and why you deceived him.” Letty’s warning lingered in the hall long after she rushed away.

  Gillian pressed her back against the wall by the door. How had she discovered it?

  After fifteen minutes, the door opened and James stepped into the corridor. He turned to her, and his eyes—those lovely brown eyes that filled her heart with love—were filled only with emptiness.

  “Gillian…” He opened his arms, and she rushed to him, holding him tight.

  Take my love, take my strength, she prayed.

  James’s body quaked against hers, like a solid stone house vibrating with the thunder of a distant storm.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly. “I am—sorry, I can’t—”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m here.” She pressed a kiss to his neck, holding him to her.

  A long while later, James wiped tears from his eyes. With a sad smile, he sighed. “I don’t know how to thank you for coming with me today.” He opened his hand to her, and she placed her palm in his.

  “There’s no need to thank me. I wanted to be here for you.”

  He drew a shaky breath. “It’s so strange, but I feel a terrible relief that she’s gone. I loved her greatly, with all my heart, but…” He struggled for words, and she didn’t push him. “As she began to lose herself, bit by bit, day by day, as she vanished, I had already started to say goodbye. It was as though I had been prepared for this day years ago.” He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Does that sound mad?”

  “No,” Gillian said. “The most difficult thing we face as children is when we lose a parent. It’s not easy to lose them without a goodbye, and yet it’s harder still to know the end is coming and to feel you are losing them while they still draw breath. I wish I could do more to comfort you.” She leaned into him again, hugging him fiercely, and he embraced her back. That single moment was something she would never forget, she and James standing together against a world that seemed determined to break their hearts at every turn.

  This is why I love him, this strong, brave man who opened his heart to me. How could I not?

  He kissed the crown of her hair, and they slowly broke apart. James cleared his throat, looking bashful. “I believe we could use some tea, and I need to write a letter to Lord Rochester explaining our abrupt departure.”

  He tried to keep himself composed; she could see that. He wanted to hide his pain and act normally even though his heart was broken. She would not force him to face his pain; he would do so in his own time.

  “Do not worry about Lord Rochester. I left word with a footman as we were leaving. Why don’t we find somewhere quiet to talk?” she suggested.

  “Er—yes.”

  He took her to a beautiful blue and yellow drawing room where they sat by the fire, neither speaking for a long moment. Gillian took the time to memorize the way the light caught on his dark hair, revealing those hidden hues of warmth. His hands rested on his knees as he gazed unseeing into the flames.

  “James, I know this is the worst moment for me to bring up such a matter, but…” She cleared her throat. “It’s time you learn the truth about me. I want you to hear it from me, not anyone else.” The last thing she wanted to do was add to his pain, but Letty would tell him if she did not.

  “Gillian, you don’t have to—”

  She held up a hand. “I owe you the truth, James. From the moment we met in Madame Ella’s modiste shop, I should have been honest with you.”

  He stared at her now, a look of worry in his eyes, as though he sensed that her confession would be the end.

  “I’m not who you think I am. I wish with all my heart that I was, but I am not.”

  He tilted his head. “What do you mean? Don’t speak in riddles.”

  “I—I’m not a lady. I am—” She had to draw a fortifying breath. She couldn’t just say she was a lady’s maid. That would make this so much worse. Instead she decided to explain in a less direct route. “My father was Lord Morrey.”

  His eyes widened. “Your…but…Morrey had a son and a daughter, Lord Adam Beaumont and Lady Caroline, his sister.”

  “I am the late Lord Morrey’s daughter as well. He took a mistress after his wife passed.” She waited, wondering if she would have to say it or if he would.

  “You’re illegitimate?”

  She bit her lip, knowing she must continue. “After my father died, I had to support myself and my mother, but she died not long after my father, and I turned to service.”

  James cleared his throat. “By service, you mean—”

  “I was, and still am, a lady’s maid. To Audrey Sheridan.”

  His eyes were dark and fathomless, and he said nothing. Silence grew between them.

  She cleared her throat and continued. “I never meant to deceive you. That day we first met at the modiste, I had been charged with trying on Miss Sheridan’s latest order. The two of us are about the same size, and then you…” She couldn’t continue, but it was clear in James’s eyes that he pieced together how innocently the deception had begun. “I tried to stay away from you, but you pulled me back in like the sea pulls the shore.”

  There was never any stopping it once they met. She only now realized that the pull between them would always be there, at least for her, and she knew with a melancholy certainty that she would feel the tug of her heart every day that she had to live without him.

  “A lady’s maid.” He stared at her, his face expressionless.

  He’s furious. He has to be. I deceived him. How could he not despise me?

  She raised her chin a little, trying everything to keep from crying. “Yes. Do you wish for me to leave?”

  “Leave?” He blinked as though he was waking from a trance. “Gillian, I love you. The last thing I would ever want is for you to leave, but…”

  But… How that single word burned like an awful fire in her heart.

  “But,” he continued, his voice still hoarse with emotion, “my mother has just passed, and while I would marry you tomorrow, I must see to funeral arrangements, and we must delay for the proper length of time. Mourning must be observed. People will gossip enough as it is, but if we wait, it will help.”

  This time it was Gillian who blinked. “You want to marry me?”

  “Of course.” He stood, paced to the fireplace, and then walked back.

  “But you can’t. I’m not even a gentleman’s daughter.” It was his grief talking, looking desperately to cling to something or someone. He did not mean to marry her—he couldn’t. It was madness; it was unacceptable.

  “You’re the daughter of an earl.”

  “I’m the bastard daughter of an earl,” she countered.

  He leaned down to cup her face in his hands, smiling a little.

  “My darling. My love. It never mattered who you thought you were. What matters is who I know you to be.”

  She trembled beneath his touch as he stroked the pad of his thumb over her lips, his eyes searching hers. “And who is that?”

  “The woman of my heart. I’ve never felt like this with anyone else. Only with you. I will fight the world to be with you if I must. I faced hellfire clubs and devil cats to be with you. Do you honestly think I would let society stand in my way?”

  “But I cannot be the one to destroy your reputation. You are n
ot thinking clearly.” She curled her fingers around his wrists, clinging to him when she knew she should be letting go.

  He lowered his head to hers, brushing her lips in a kiss that sent singing notes of music through her soul. But she was too afraid to embrace this joy. Her life was never meant to be one of happiness. Not like this.

  “I must send you back to Rochester’s house.”

  And there it was, the decision to let her go.

  “Of course. I understand,” she whispered, her lashes lowering as she fought off tears. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Gillian,” he growled. “Look at me.”

  She did so.

  “I must send you home to your mistress so that you have time to prepare a proper trousseau. You must inform her of your resignation from her employment. I trust she will not be angry that I’m stealing you away?”

  Gillian still couldn’t believe she was hearing this, that he wanted her, even after knowing the truth.

  “She will be upset to lose me, but happy too. She knows how I feel about you.”

  James lifted her to her feet and pulled her into his arms. “She’d better be. She was the one who invited me to the party, after all.”

  “What?” Gillian gasped. “But she said she didn’t.” Well, actually she hadn’t, but she’d seemed genuinely surprise at James coming to Rochester’s house party.

  “I came to the Sheridan townhouse last week before the party, the morning after the hellfire club incident.”

  “I remember,” Gillian confessed. “I was hiding in the servants’ entrance and saw you come in.”

  He rubbed his hands up and down her back. “So close, and yet I’d no idea you were there.”

  “Why did you come that day?” she asked.

  “To find you. Miss Sheridan was the only connection I had to you. I begged her to tell me where you were, who you were. She didn’t betray your identity, but she said I could come to the party and win you over.”

  Gillian shook her head in disbelief. Until this moment Gillian had believed Audrey’s ambition of being a spy was a fool’s errand, but now she was beginning to think she might be clever enough to fool the king of France.

  “Indeed.” James threaded his fingers through her hair kissed her, a torrent of passion pouring from his lips. When their mouths finally parted, he pressed his forehead to hers. The sorrow returned to his eyes, and he squeezed her in a fierce hug as though only she could comfort him.

  “You’ll wait for me? I need to focus on arranging the funeral.”

  “If you truly want me, I will wait for you however long you need,” she vowed.

  If James was willing to brave the condemnation of society for her, she would do everything she could to be worthy of him, even if she had to wait forever.

  11

  Two weeks had passed since James’s mother had died, yet he still felt her presence in the townhouse after he and Letty returned to London. He missed her with every breath, yet a part of him felt relieved that she was no longer suffering. She’d not been herself for several years, and he’d wished that if he could not have healed her, he could at least have her pain ended. While his heart was still broken, he knew that she was with his father now, and there, together, they could be happy.

  James lingered in the entry hall, hat in hand as he prepared himself for the day that would forever change his life. He was going to go and claim Gillian as his own. Publicly, in the manner she deserved. He knew she had promised to wait, and they had written to each other every day reaffirming their commitment, yet his stomach was tight with knots.

  “James…” His sister’s voice made him turn. Letty descended the stairs, looking rather lovely in a simple lilac day gown proper for mourning and a shawl. It was the usual time of day for her to call upon her friends but given their mother’s death she was remaining at home for the next several months.

  “Ah, Letty, I’m glad you’re here. I need to speak with you.” He hadn’t officially told his sister yet that he intended to marry Gillian. Part of him feared she would be angry with him over the match. Ever since she’d discovered Gillian’s history, her manner had seemed oddly strained whenever he mentioned her name in conversation.

  “And I need to stay a few things as well.” She reached him at the bottom of the stairs. Pain and worry was so clear in her eyes that his breath caught. This did not bode well.

  “Letty, what—”

  “Please, let me speak first,” she begged.

  James nodded, his body now tight with anxiety.

  “I forced Gillian to tell you the truth about her circumstances. You see, I visited her half brother, Lord Morrey, and it turns out he’s been searching for her ever since their father died. He wants to know her, to support her. He’s not ashamed of the connection at all.” She sighed, her lips curving slightly. “He’s quite wonderful, actually. But I was upset, and I fear I made a mess of things. When Mama passed, I was hurting terribly, and I saw her and…” His sister paused, sniffled, and continued. “I feared the worst about her intentions. I told her that she must confess her situation to you, or I would.”

  James didn’t know what to say, but he wasn’t angry. He understood Letty’s pain and the need to lash out. He might have reacted that way, but he hadn’t. Gillian had been there for him. She’d done something he’d never thought possible: she’d taken part of his grief and carried it upon her own shoulders. Her strength and support had made the loss more bearable. At the time he’d felt guilty about sharing that burden, but then he’d realized something that filled his heart with hope. When you met the person who was destined to be your life partner, you couldn’t force pain upon them—they took it willingly from you, and they shared it. He could never have hidden his heart from Gillian, because it belonged to her. She would always see him when he was at his darkest, at his most wounded, and she would be there to help. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

  And I will do the same for her. Every hurt, every joy, everything, we will share together.

  “Letty, please, don’t be upset. I’m not angry with you,” he said. He cupped her chin and lifted her face, hating the tears that coated her lashes.

  “You’re not?”

  “No. But I must tell you something now and hear the truth from you. It is my intention to marry Gillian. Will that cause you any further pain?”

  Letty shook her head. “I always liked her, you know that. I only wanted to protect you. So many women long for a title, and I feared someone would take advantage of your open heart.”

  James gave a gentle laugh. “You’ve always been fierce in matters of the heart, and I admire you for it. But rest assured, I shall be well so long as I have Gillian.”

  “Then I am glad.” Letty’s smile was bright like the sun. Whoever married her someday would cherish such smiles.

  “I’m off to visit her. Would you care to come?”

  “No, but give her my love when you see her. It will be such a joy to have her here once you are married.”

  “Do you mean that?” James settled his hat upon his head and pulled on his riding gloves.

  “Of course,” Letty assured him. “Now off with you! I know you’re anxious to see her.” Letty shoved him toward the door. He couldn’t help but smile. He was indeed anxious for the rest of his wonderful life with Gillian to begin.

  Audrey rushed into the drawing room. “He’s here!”

  Gillian sat up and tossed aside the embroidery hoop she had been pretending to care about. In truth, she’d been sticking the same piece over and over again since a messenger had informed her that James was coming to formally ask for her hand. She could scarcely believe it’d been two weeks, yet the days had seemed to both drag on and pass too quickly without her being able to see him.

  Cedric, Audrey’s older brother, sat in a chair by the fire and folded his paper. He looked to Gillian.

  “You’re sure you want to marry him? I like the fellow immensely, of course, but you say the word and
I will chase him off.” Cedric smiled at her in a way that made her heart tremble with joy. He had taken over the situation at once when Gillian had been forced to explain her resignation. He’d changed from employer to honorary brother in a heartbeat. The Sheridans had always treated her like family, and now she felt more than ever that she was a part of it.

  “Don’t you dare!” Audrey said, slapping her brother’s arm.

  “My lord,” Sean Hartley said as he appeared in the doorway. “There’s a Lord Pembroke and a Lord Morrey here to see you both, and Miss Beaumont, of course.”

  Gillian’s throat constricted, and she had to fight to remain calm. “Did you say Lord Morrey?”

  Audrey looked her way, paling. “You said he didn’t know about you.”

  “He didn’t,” Gillian said. What could all this mean?

  “Do you still wish for me to let them in?” Sean asked.

  Cedric studied Gillian. “It’s up to you, my dear.”

  “I… Yes, let them in.” She would simply have to face the situation and pray that Lord Morrey wasn’t here to ruin her chance at happiness. She had done her best to remain invisible, to avoid drawing any attention to Lord Morrey’s family. Once she was married, even her name would change. What more could she do?

  Gillian remained standing, heart pounding, as she heard voices echo in the hall. Sean opened the door, and James entered first. His reassuring smile alleviated her worry, but only for a moment. The second gentleman, Lord Morrey, was tall, dark-haired, and had the same silvery dove-gray eyes that were not often seen in London. We have the same eyes, just like our father. He was handsome, elegant, yet a masculine specimen who would have sent her mistress swooning if she hadn’t already been besotted with Jonathan St. Laurent.

  “Lord Pembroke, Lord Morrey,” Cedric greeted.

  “Lord Sheridan,” they both answered politely.

  “Gillian, do you wish for me to remain? Or I shall I retire to my study? When Lord Pembroke and Lord Morrey are ready, they may discuss your dowry with me.”

  “Dowry?” Gillian was confused. “I have no dowry.”