The Earl Takes All

by Lorraine Heath

  “Will there be anything else, m’lord?” the first maid asked.

  Staring at the fire, Albert merely took another swallow of wine.

  “No, that’ll be all,” Julia said.

  The servants left, closing the door in their wake. Her husband stayed as he was.

  “Albert?” He seemed lost. “Albert,” she said more sharply.

  He finally jerked his head toward her, his brow furrowed so deeply it had to be painful.

  “Sit, eat,” she told him.

  “Are you certain I didn’t hurt you?”

  “It was quite lovely actually. It’s been so long. I was beginning to fear you hadn’t missed me as much as I missed you.”

  “Trust me. Not a night went by that I didn’t drift off to sleep without thoughts of you.”

  “I’m selfishly glad to hear that. Were you tormented by those thoughts?”

  “In ways you cannot possibly comprehend.”

  She was being beastly to take such satisfaction in knowing thoughts of her had plagued him, but it was so incredibly satisfying. She smiled softly. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

  He gathered up the clothes she’d strewn over the chair, took them to the bench at the dressing table and then dropped into the chair that put him the length of the short table away from her. She had hoped he would sit on the sofa, on the corner nearest to her. Perhaps he hadn’t because he feared she’d be a distraction.

  She’d feel a bit better about things if she had the sense that he welcomed the distraction. Instead she was left with the awareness that he regretted it.

  Thank God for the knock on the door. That was all that ran through Edward’s mind. Thank God, thank God, for the knock on the door.

  He’d been on the verge of lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bed. For the first time since his return he hadn’t been consumed with guilt, buried in grief. Instead, he’d been lost in passion, desire such as he’d never known. Her fragrance, her heat, her softness. It didn’t matter that it would have been the worst possible thing he could have done. For a moment she’d served as a blessed distraction. The fire in her kiss—­

  Good Lord. Where the devil had that come from? Certainly there had been a spark that night in the garden, but what he just experienced had fairly consumed him. Maturity and knowledge gained had replaced innocence and naiveté. A lethal combination that could send his good intentions to perdition.

  With an unsteady hand, he reached for the wine, began pouring, saw her arch a delicate brow, and refrained from refilling his glass to the top. Being alone with her in a bedchamber was proving to be incredibly dangerous to his ruse. But how to avoid it? He had to recall that she held no affection whatsoever for Edward, that the kindness she was showing him, the temptations she offered, were merely offered because she believed he was Albert.

  This was Julia—­who had kicked him out of his brother’s London residence because he arrived home in the early hours in an inebriated state that she didn’t fancy. Julia—­who had encouraged Albert to reduce Edward’s allowance so he couldn’t indulge to his heart’s content in wine, women, and wagering. Julia—­who always looked at him as though he were something she’d recently scraped off the bottom of her shoe.

  Julia—­who had arranged an elaborate and elegant funeral for a man she couldn’t tolerate. Who had seen to a few guests without complaint even though it had exhausted her. Who had kissed him as though no one in the world were more important to her. Who had initiated the kiss. He’d never had a woman do that before. It was incredibly intoxicating.

  If she had hated him after the encounter in the garden, she was going to hate him doubly so when she learned the truth and recalled this kiss. He had to avoid his lips coming within a hairbreadth of hers, lest he forget again that he was not the one she loved, the one she desired, the one with whom she’d exchanged vows.

  Looking down at his plate, he bit back a curse. Garnished fish. Of course, on a day like today, the cook would have prepared Albert’s favorite. Edward had never developed a taste for it. He preferred his meat red and bloody.

  “What were you reminiscing?”

  He jerked his head up, saw Julia studying him as though once again beginning to have doubts about him. “Pardon?”

  “In the library. You said that you and the others were reminiscing. About Edward, I assume. Did it help to recall happier times?”

  It might have, he thought, if that had indeed been what they were discussing. While he hoped to minimize his lies to her, he couldn’t eliminate all the little white ones. “A little.”

  “Share something with me.”

  If I could sip on your mouth whenever I wanted, I could do without wine. “Such as?”

  “Something about Edward. A pleasant memory. We never really spoke much about him except when you expressed your worry that he would come to an untimely and unpleasant end, or when I lost patience with his . . . questionable activities.”

  Albert had worried over him? He knew his brother had not been happy with the way he led his life, but he hadn’t known he actually worried over him. Whenever Albert had taken him to task, he’d simply viewed it as an older brother being disappointed or needing to control a younger one. Yet, he’d promised Albert if he took the journey to Africa with him, that when they returned he would settle down, marry, and seek a position in Parliament. He hated that he couldn’t be certain it was a promise he would have kept. He would have said anything to get Albert to go with him. That truth pained him now: that he might not have been completely honest with the one person who had always been absolutely forthright with him.

  She was waiting expectantly for him to tell her something about a man she disliked, and for the first time that he could recall, he wanted her to have a favorable impression of him. “Edward didn’t like being the second son.”

  “I suspect most second sons don’t,” she said gently, no disapproval in her tone.

  Before he left on his trip with Albert, she’d only ever spoken to Edward with disapproval threaded through her words. He didn’t like that he now enjoyed the soft tenor of her voice, that he was suddenly finding it very easy on the ears. “Ironically, though, he had no desire whatsoever to be earl.”

  “Too much work,” she said with a smile.

  He found himself returning it, only a slight lift of one corner, but it was more than he’d ever thought he would experience again. “Exactly. You knew him very well.”

  “Not really. I regret that now. But we digress. Something pleasant.”

  Something pleasant. The fish definitely didn’t fit that category, and while he’d only managed a few bites without gagging, he set his plate aside and snatched up his wineglass while he still had an excuse for indulging. “At first we didn’t like living at Havisham Hall. It didn’t take us long to determine that something wasn’t quite right. None of the clocks worked, not a single one ticked. The manor was as large as Evermore, but there were only half a dozen servants. We were forbidden from entering a good part of the manor, many of the rooms locked. So Edward began plotting our first expedition.” He smiled at the memory, the seriousness of it. In this story at least he would be himself.

  “You told me once that the marquess had stopped all the clocks when his wife died.”

  Edward’s smile withered. Damnation. How was he to know what Albert had shared and what he hadn’t? Surely she would give an indication if she knew this story. “The marquess stopped a lot of things when his wife died. Living, mostly.”

  “I can imagine that. I don’t know what I would have done had it been you who died in Africa.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for us to go there. We’re at Havisham Hall.”

  Still, her words merely confirmed that his present course was truly the only one open to him if he wished to honor the vow he’d made to Albert. While he might not have been a man of his word before, h
e damned well planned to be one now. “I don’t know why we got it into our heads that we could go exploring only at midnight. It wasn’t as though anyone was truly about during the day to interfere.”

  “More forbidden at night, after you all were supposed to be abed, I imagine. That’s when I would have gone,” she said with a tantalizing wicked upturn of her lips.

  He fought not to stare. At that tempting luscious mouth and at the sparkle in her eyes that hinted she’d have been right there alongside them, sneaking down dark corridors with only a single candle to light their way. He didn’t much like discovering that she was comprised of unexplored facets. He liked even less that he found himself wanting to explore them. He merely wanted to walk in his brother’s shoes until his heir was born, walk cautiously forward without taking any side jaunts. Getting to know Julia better had not been part of his plan. Still, he had to acknowledge she had the right of it. “More adventuresome as well when we were in danger of getting caught, as the marquess roamed the hallways at night. I often heard his soft footfalls going past my bedchamber door, so the thrill of escaping back to our beds unscathed was a driving force,” he admitted.

  Her smile blossomed into something that caused a tightening in his chest. “And did you?” she prodded.

  “Do you want me to spoil the story by giving you the ending to our adventure?”

  She reduced her smile a fraction. “Now you sound like Edward with his obsession for storytelling.”

  Damnation. He’d slipped. He’d always enjoyed weaving tales. Albert always preferred a more direct approach, never taking the time to enhance the narrative.

  “He was always so good at it,” she continued.

  He blinked, wondering if he’d heard correctly. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

  “I loved listening to his stories. It’s the reason that I always held a dinner party when Edward and the others returned from one of their adventures. I knew he would never bother to share his exploits with me, but he would weave a mesmerizing tale for others, for an audience. It didn’t hamper his storytelling to know I was in the back of the room, although I tried not to let on how much I was enjoying it, lest he decline the next time I invited him.”

  “I didn’t know.” He’d assumed she’d always done it for the attention it brought to her. The Countess of Greyling managing to provide London Society with a night of entertainment courtesy of the Hellions of Havisham—­as the four of them were often called.

  She lifted a delicate shoulder. “I have a few secrets.”

  He found himself wanting to uncover every one, although he suspected for the most part they were innocent, trivial, while the one he now held from her was horrendous. “He thought you had no interest in his trips. If you had merely asked—­”

  “He’d have said no. You know he would have. Edward had no wish to please me, to please anyone other than himself. It inflated his self-­esteem to have an audience, and so I provided it. And in return, I got a little something for myself. Hearing about the adventures.”

  She was wrong. Had she asked, he would have woven the tales for her, just for her. How was it that they managed not to know each other at all, when Albert had been so important to both of them?

  “Now finish sharing your memory,” she prodded, interrupting his thoughts.

  “If I tell it like Edward might have, well, it’s only because I had two months of listening to him prattle on. He does like hearing the sound of his own voice.”

  She laughed lightly. “That was always obvious. He was never lacking in confidence.”

  Her tinkling laugh served to lift a fraction of the pall of sorrow that had enveloped him with Albert’s death. How odd that it was she, rather than Ashe or Locke, who would provide a spark of hope that a time would come when he wouldn’t feel as though he’d gone into the vault with his brother. He wished he could tell her the truth now, wished they could share their memories of Albert.

  “Arrogance, more like,” he offered. “He never doubted that we could break undetected into the large salon.”

  “That was your first expedition?”

  “Yes. He drew up a plan of the residence and our route—­not a direct one, of course. That would be too boring. It included lots of twists and turns. He’d managed to sneak into the housekeeper’s room after she’d gone to sleep and nicked her keys. He led the way with a candle. We were terrified.”

  “But you saw it through.”

  “We did. The walls were mirrored. Ashe squeaked like a mouse that had been trapped by a cat when he caught sight of his reflection. It was eerie. Chandeliers and candelabras unlit, serving as anchors for cobwebs. No light except for the solitary candle. There were dead flowers in vases. Dust covered everything. Musty odor was thick on the air. I don’t think anyone had been inside the room in years. That’s what we discovered on each of our adventures: a room abandoned, no longer used. But we got bolder with our explorations, always found something that made us glad we’d ventured forth. I think that’s the reason, when we were old enough, that we began exploring the world.” He looked toward the fire. “Edward started it all. Had we ever gotten caught, we might not have begun to think we were invincible.” He turned his attention back to her. “Still, most of the memories are good ones.”

  She was studying him again, as though striving to figure him out. “I’m glad you have them.”

  With a nod, he finished off his wine and stood. “It’s late. I’ll see to having the servants come clean up the mess so you can retire. I also want to check on our guests.”

  “Will you come back and sleep with me tonight?” Her eyes held such doubt, and he knew it had cost her to ask. He was also acutely aware that she shouldn’t have to plead with him for anything. Albert would grant her anything she desired. He was failing miserably at the task he’d set himself.

  He hesitated. “I don’t think it’s wise with the babe.”

  “I think we’re safe if all we do is hold each other. Until you went on this trip, I’d forgotten how much I disliked sleeping alone.”

  “Yes, all right.” Then, although the words were a lie, he knew he had to say them. “I’ve missed holding you.”

  She gave him that smile again, the one that tore a hole in his chest while managing at the same time to make him grateful she bestowed it. Before all was said and done, she was going to be the death of him.

  He was going to sleep with her. But first he needed some scotch. With any luck, Ashe and Locke were still up, they’d join him, and he’d have an excuse for not returning to her bed until he was well and truly foxed.

  He caught them and Minerva on his way down the wide sweeping stairs as they were on their way up. “Care to join me for a drink before retiring?”

  He’d even welcome the duchess. She had a reputation for favoring spirits, for favoring all things wicked, which was one of the reasons she was an excellent match for Ashe.

  “It’s been a long day, Grey,” Ashe said. “We plan to depart early tomorrow, so I think Minerva and I are better served calling it a night.”

  “Sleep well, then.”

  As the couple walked past him, the duchess reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “In taking care of Julia, don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

  He grinned. “I’m about to take care of myself in the library.” As soon as the words were out, he knew they were ones that Albert would never speak. Fortunately, Minerva hadn’t been familiar enough with Albert to know that. Ashe, however, scowled and shook his head before placing his hand on the small of his wife’s back.

  “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart.”

  He waited until they disappeared down the hallway to turn his attention to Locke. “Ashe was correct. While Albert and Julia have separate bedchambers, my brother did sleep in his wife’s bed. She just mentioned that she missed her husband being there. My following through on that particula
r habit of his necessitates a drink first. I prefer not to drink alone.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Locke leaned back against the banister. “You’re going to go to Julia’s bed reeking of whiskey?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of scotch. I need to dull my senses so I don’t do something stupid.”

  “Dulling your senses is doing something stupid.”

  He wanted to slam his fist against a wall. He hated when Locke was right, but he saw no other option. “She’s a woman. If I climb into bed with her, my cock is going to react.”

  “She’d expect that. You’re supposedly her husband.”

  Plowing both hands through his hair, he hissed a vile curse before admitting, “I don’t know how to sleep with her.”

  Locke stared at him. “Christ, Edward—­Grey—­you’re not a virgin.”

  “No, but what do I do with my hands?”

  “Pardon?”

  He splayed his fingers. “Do I cradle her breast? Cup her backside? I don’t know what she expects.”

  Locke shrugged nonchalantly. “Just hold her.”

  Easier said than done. Albert had never shared the intimate aspects of his relationship with Julia. Wouldn’t she be suspicious if he did something his twin had never done, reacted in a way that Albert never had? The intimacy of being beneath the sheets with her, even if his body wasn’t joined to hers, made him break out in a sweat. “I’m going to give myself away.”

  “Don’t overthink it. Assume she’s in need of comforting, reassurance that nothing changed between her and her husband while they were separated.”

  “Everything changed. That’s the bloody problem.” Giving his ear a hard, unforgiving yank, he shifted his gaze toward the foyer that branched into multiple hallways, one that led to the library and solace. With a deep sigh of longing, he turned back toward the bedchambers and, with Locke beside him, began trudging up as though climbing a treacherous and demanding mountain. “Will you be departing early as well tomorrow?” he asked.