The Dark Earl

by Virginia Henley

  “He’s here!” Rachel murmured happily as she spotted Lord Butler.

  “Go forth and conquer,” Harry whispered.

  D’Arcy Lambton hurried across the ballroom. “I’ve been waiting hours. Where have you been, Harry?”

  “Teaching Rachel how to cheat at cards. I come by it naturally, but would you believe that some females are most inept when it comes to deceit?”

  “I warrant you get away with it only because you are beautiful.”

  “That’s blatant flattery. You must have an ulterior motive.”

  “I do. I want to wed you and bed you—not necessarily in that order.”

  “Then you’d better get in line, Lord Durham.”

  Harry was deeply disappointed that Thomas Anson had not been invited. She hadn’t really expected him to be there, but she had kept a faint glimmer of hope alive until she had searched the entire ballroom with her eyes. The night will seem endless.

  “James, the night seemed endless until you arrived.” Lady Emily led her partner to the refreshment room, and lifted a glass of champagne to his lips. Then she placed her mouth where his had been and finished the wine. She licked her lips. “I can taste you.”

  James felt his cock lift its head and lengthen.

  Emily knowingly glanced down at the bulge in his trousers. “If I told you that you had a manly body, would you hold it against me, Jamie?” she whispered provocatively.

  His cock hardened.

  “I’m warm, and growing hotter by the minute,” she murmured.

  James felt his erection buck.

  “I think we’d both feel better if we got some fresh air. Why don’t we take a stroll in the garden?” She reached into her décolletage and produced a key to the private Grosvenor Square garden.

  “Won’t you be missed, Emily? . . . It’s your ball?” James wondered if he could walk.

  “Balls can be such fun.” She stroked the key across the swell of her exposed breasts. “I’d like to play with yours, Jamie.”

  “And I’d like to play with yours, my beauty.” I’ll walk if it kills me!

  There was such a crush of guests—all arriving in the supper room at the same time—that the young couple was able to slip down the stairs and out the front door unobserved.

  Emily unlocked the garden gate, took James’s hand, and led him beneath a chestnut tree.

  He pulled her into his arms, and dipped his head to capture her mouth in a hungry kiss. She opened her lips and he slid his tongue inside to experience his first French kiss. It was so arousing, he pressed her back against the tree trunk and rubbed his hard cock against her soft belly.

  Emily slid her hand down between their bodies to caress his erection. “You are so big, Jamie. Is this your first time?”

  He had too much male pride to admit it, and allowed her to open his trousers and take his cock in her hand.

  “It would be a shame to waste it, don’t you think?”

  “I do indeed.” He pulled up her voluminous skirt and was both shocked and thrilled to find that she was naked beneath her gown. James rubbed his erection back and forth between her legs, and his thumb caressed her mons.

  Emily began to gasp. She thrust against him, and then cried out her release.

  James felt rampant. He opened her cleft with impatient fingers and was about to thrust inside her, when she pulled away.

  “No, James! I can’t let you spill your seed in me.”

  “I can’t stop now!” he groaned in an agony of need.

  “I’ll take care of you, Jamie.” She dropped her skirt. “Let me have your coat.”

  It seemed an odd request, but he removed it and handed it to her.

  Emily dropped it onto the grass and sank down before him on her knees. She licked the head of his cock, circled it with the tip of her tongue, and then she drew the hard length of him into her mouth and began to suck.

  James had never known such ecstasy existed. “Don’t stop,” he gasped, as he held her head captive. When his climax came, it was so hard he shuddered for a full minute.

  Emily tucked his limp cock back into his trousers, and then she helped him into his coat. “Let’s go back up. I fancy some strawberries with that cream I just had.”

  “You go ahead. We shouldn’t show up together.” This time I know I’ll find walking next to impossible.

  As he staggered up the last few steps of the elegant staircase, Harry spotted him.

  “No wonder you went out for some fresh air. I know it’s unusual for me, but I’ve never been so bored in my life.”

  James gave his sister a serene smile. “There’s a first time for everything, Harry.”

  The following evening, Harry joined Rachel in the library. “Here is the book you wanted to read.”

  “I’m thrilled you have Wollstonecraft’s Thoughts on the Education of Daughters.”

  Harry handed her a second book. “We also have A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. I can’t believe you’ve never read them. They are required reading for every female. Mary Wollstonecraft firmly believes that the physical desirability that society imposes on us is the means by which male domination enslaves us.” Harry winked. “I personally believe it is the other way about.” She picked up a book from the desk and carried it to a deep-cushioned, brass-mounted library chair.

  “What are you reading?” Rachel asked.

  “It’s a brand-new book that just arrived. It’s by Barbara Leigh Smith: A Brief Summary in Plain Language of the Most Important Laws Concerning Women.”

  “Leigh Smith? I’ve never heard of her.”

  “Her father built the school for the poor in Vincent Square. I persuaded Father to donate money, and when I took it round there, I met Barbara. Her father deeded the school to her, but he has to hold it in trust, since women are not yet allowed to own property. She and her friends meet every Friday in Langham Place to discuss women’s rights. She holds open house through the day and into the evening. I’ve joined the crusade, and promised to sign all their petitions. It won’t be long before things change!”

  “Oh, I’d love to meet her. Though my writing must be frivolous compared to hers.”

  “I beg to differ. There is nothing frivolous about love and romance. They are at the heart of every woman’s dreams. Barbara is very Bohemian. I warrant she would totally approve of us visiting Hazard House for an evening of gaming.”

  The pair read in silence for a half hour; then Harry threw back her head and laughed. “Listen to this. Barbara and her friend traveled about the Continent wearing blue-tinted glasses and unconventional short skirts to show off their legs. She wrote a poem about it.” Harry recited:

  Oh! Isn’t it jolly to cast away folly,

  And cut all one’s clothes a peg shorter

  (A good many pegs) and rejoice in one’s legs

  Like a free-minded Albion’s daughter?

  Harry looked up from the book. “Rachel, we must get ourselves invited to a masquerade ball so we can wear costumes that show off our legs.”

  “Victoria wouldn’t be amused.”

  “Oh, you’ve put your finger on a most entertaining solution. We’ll wear short skirts to the queen’s annual Bal Costume at Buckingham Palace!”

  When the invitations arrived from D’Arcy Lambton, Earl of Durham, for the dinner party at Carlton House Terrace, they included Louisa, Duchess of Abercorn, her sister Rachel, all three of the Hamilton daughters, and young James.

  “Durham never fails to do things correctly, etiquette-wise, that is,” Lady Lu declared as they prepared to leave for the dinner.

  “Perhaps that comes from his late mother, Elizabeth. After all, she was lady of the bedchamber to Queen Victoria.” Harry slipped on her cloak and picked up her fan.

  “More than likely it was because she was Earl Grey’s daughter. It will be like old times. I remember dining at Earl Grey’s town house when I was a girl and he was the prime minister,” the duchess recalled. “He outlived D’Arcy’s parents and left Carlto
n House Terrace to his grandson.”

  When the five ladies stepped into the phaeton, the duchess spoke to her son. “James, I’m afraid you’ll have to ride with Riley again.”

  “Don’t give it a thought. I much prefer it to being smothered by crinolines, or skewered by whalebone,” he added irreverently.

  When the carriage arrived at Carlton House Terrace, D’Arcy was waiting outside to greet them. Etiquette dictated that he offer his arm to the duchess to escort her upstairs. Fortunately, his friend Thomas arrived on foot from the Ansons’ nearby town house in St. James’s Square. He was just in time to offer his arms to Lady Harriet and Lady Rachel. Young James Hamilton parodied his action and with an amused grin escorted his sisters Beatrix and Jane.

  Harry could feel the powerful muscle in Lord Anson’s forearm. She squeezed it with her hand, sending him a secret signal that no one else was privy to. When he glanced down at her, she covered her mouth with her fan to conceal her amusement. She felt him squeeze back, telling her to behave herself, and this time even her fan couldn’t hide her bubbling laughter.

  Upstairs, Durham’s majordomo, Fenton, took the ladies’ cloaks and ushered them into the drawing room, where two liveried footmen offered the guests champagne from Georgian silver trays.

  With sparkling eyes, Harry immediately picked up two flutes, and waited for Anson’s expression to change to disapproval. When he kept a straight face, she handed one of the glasses to Rachel and the other to Beatrix. She took two more, knowing his dark glance was riveted on her. When she handed one to Jane, she saw his black eyebrows draw together. She blithely sipped her own champagne. “What?” she asked.

  “Jane’s too young to be drinking,” he murmured.

  “What do you expect, when I set the example?”

  “I expect no better, truth be told.”

  “Do you enjoy being the arbiter of young girls’ morals?” she teased.

  “No, but I quite enjoy being the arbiter of yours.”

  “It’s a full-time job,” she warned.

  “I think I’m up to it.”

  D’Arcy joined Harriet and Thomas.

  “It was most thoughtful of you to invite Captain Butler and Will Montagu,” Harry said with a grateful smile.

  “Ah, and here comes Henry Edgcumbe. I attempted to match every lady with a dinner partner of her acquaintance.”

  “That was so considerate. Poor old James will be the odd man out.”

  “Not at all. I shall place him at the foot of the table as cohost.”

  William Montagu and Henry Edgcumbe joined the group. Each had brought a glass of champagne for Lady Harriet.

  Oh dear, I have four men vying for my attention. Trixy and Jane will hate me. Harry held up her glass and smiled at the two young lords. “I’m sure my sisters would love some champagne.”

  D’Arcy spied his chance to remove her from the others. “Harry, how about that tour I promised you?”

  She glanced quickly at Anson and saw the silver flash of his eyes. Harry waved her fan languidly. “That is so thoughtful of you, D’Arcy. Why don’t we invite Mother to join us? She remembers dining here when your grandfather was prime minister. I’m sure it will bring back fond, nostalgic memories for her.”

  For a moment D’Arcy looked stunned. Then his sunny good nature returned. “I’ll have a word with Her Grace and be right back.”

  Montagu and Edgcumbe sought Harry’s sisters, and she found herself alone with Thomas. “D’Arcy is never ill-humored when things don’t go his way.”

  His smile was rueful. “That’s because things have always gone his way.”

  There’s an understatement. At twelve years old, D’Arcy was already an earl of the realm, with a castle and a fortune at his disposal.

  D’Arcy returned with the duchess. Harry took his arm and the trio went off to explore the elegant Carlton House Terrace residence before dinner was served.

  “This was your mother’s private sitting room,” the duchess declared. “I’ve always loved this chamber, with its painted ceiling.” She looked pointedly at Harry. “Any lady could be happy here.”

  They moved on to the library, where portraits of D’Arcy’s father and grandfather hung. “It’s easy to see why Elizabeth fell in love with John Lambton. I warrant he was one of the handsomest men in England. You have inherited your father’s good looks. . . . Don’t you think so, Harry?”

  “Absolutely. I believe D’Arcy was touched by the angels.” His golden hair and blue eyes truly give him the look of an archangel.

  The earl’s majordomo appeared at the library door.

  “Dinner must be ready. Shall we repair to the dining room, ladies?”

  Each place setting had a card printed with the name of a guest, and the diners took their places. D’Arcy sat at the head of the table, with Harry on his right, and the duchess on his left. Thomas was seated between Harry and Beatrix, and Henry Edgcumbe was paired with Jane. Across the table, Will Montagu sat next to the duchess, and Rachel was paired with Captain Butler. Young James sat at the foot, opposite D’Arcy.

  Though the setting was formal, the company was anything but, and the conversation flowed freely, along with the laughter.

  Though Harry listened attentively to D’Arcy, all her senses focused on the dark lord who sat beside her. On an impulse she nudged his foot with her own and smiled when she felt him nudge back, though his full attention seemed focused on Trixy.

  I wonder if things are never what they seem on the surface. I must tell Rachel to write a scene where a secret flirtation is carried on under cover of the tablecloth. Harry deliberately dropped her napkin, and when Thomas retrieved it, their hands touched.

  The Earl of Durham had spared no expense on the dinner he served to his guests. The soup was lobster bisque laced with cream and sherry. Next came an artichoke salad with goat cheese, lemon, and black olives. The first entrée was wild Scottish salmon, and when that was cleared away, plump roast partridges were served. A different imported wine was poured with each course, and the main dessert was a luscious traditional English trifle, followed by a wheel of warm, melting Brie cheese and fresh fruit.

  “You have a dainty appetite, Lady Beatrix,” Thomas remarked when he saw the tiny amount of food she consumed.

  Her eyelashes fluttered prettily. “Please call me Trixy, my lord.”

  He watched Harry dip a rusk into the Brie and sigh with repletion as it melted in her mouth. “You have a voracious appetite.”

  She gave him a saucy sideways glance. “And you know what that suggests.”

  “It suggests that you are an outrageous baggage,” he murmured.

  Harry felt inordinately pleased with his response.

  Her mother watched the byplay across the table, then spoke to D’Arcy. “You are a perfect host. We would love to entertain you at Hampden House. Promise you will accept if I invite you to dinner?”

  “I would be most honored, Your Grace.”

  “Oh, no formalities, please. Call me Lu.”

  On the carriage ride home, the duchess did not bring up the subject of Thomas Anson. She did, however, announce that she intended to reciprocate D’Arcy’s hospitality and invite him to dinner. Then she changed the subject to William Montagu. “I adore Will’s Scottish brogue. He spent the entire dinner gazing across the table and then told me that all my daughters were bonny lassies.”

  Jane spoke up. “I wish I’d been seated next to Will. He makes my pulses race.”

  “What’s wrong with Henry Edgcumbe?” her mother asked.

  “Well, nothing, except he spent most of his time conversing with Trixy.”

  “Can I help it if men find me irresistible?” Trixy teased. “Lord Anson told me I had a dainty appetite. Gentlemen notice these things, Jane.”

  Harry smiled her secret smile.

  Later, at home, Harry beckoned her brother into the guest chamber she was sharing with Rachel. “I spoke with Will Montagu tonight about you and his brother visiting Hazard House. I
told him that next time Rachel and I intended to go.”

  “How could you, Harry? I told you that in confidence.”

  “Don’t worry, James. Will told me he would be only too happy to accompany us. The whole thing will be a lark. Make your plans with John and Will and let us know which evening you decide upon.”

  When Harry and her young aunt were abed, she asked Rachel if her relationship with James Butler was progressing.

  “I can’t believe how well we get along. It’s as if we’ve known each other for years.”

  “I can see that the Irish rogue is attracted to you, but is the feeling mutual?”

  “Oh, yes. He fair takes my breath away.”

  “Splendid! Then it is a full-blown courtship,” Harry declared. “Isn’t it amazing the things that can be accomplished at a simple dinner party?”

  Rachel laughed. “Nothing about the Earl of Durham’s dinner was simple.”

  “No. It was delightfully complex. I was invited to the theater tomorrow evening. I agreed to go only if the captain invited you. So you can expect a note in the post from him in the morning.”

  “Oh, Harry, that was clever. So D’Arcy is definitely courting you?”

  “I suppose he’s trying. But I’m going to the theater with Thomas Anson.”

  Chapter Five

  “Darling, I fail to see the attraction. When you can have your pick of escorts such as the Earl of Durham, or Montagu, who’s heir to the dukedom of Buccleuch, why would you choose Thomas Anson?” the duchess asked her daughter.

  “The attraction is physical,” Harry explained, rolling her eyes in mock ecstasy.

  Her mother laughed. “Well, there is that, if you like the dark, dominant type.”

  “You obviously did.”

  “Well, who could resist James Hamilton? But be warned, Harry. Anson has to work for a living, and he told me himself he couldn’t afford the luxury of a wife.”