How to Catch an Errant Earl

by Amy Rose Bennett

  The rainbow had faded a little and the wind had picked up, skipping across the lake and ruffling the surface into tiny, white-capped wavelets. It stirred the black curls framing Lord Langdale’s beautiful face as he turned to regard her. “I also recall you asserting that you are nothing and no one,” he said in a soft, low voice. His deep green gaze searched hers as though he was trying to solve a particularly perplexing puzzle. “I do not believe that for one moment. From what I’ve seen of you so far, nothing could be further from the truth.”

  “Thank you.” Arabella found herself blushing and she looked away, examining the view as though she’d never seen it before. “You’re clearly easy to please.”

  He laughed, the chuckle a rich, warm vibration that tugged her attention back to him. “I’m really not.” His expression changed. A shadow flickered in his eyes. “However, there are some things you should know about me, Arabella. A long time ago, someone who was very dear to me betrayed my trust, and so from that day on, I decided that honesty was a personal quality I valued above all others. For that reason, I want you to know that I will always be honest with you, no matter what. Which leads me to my next disclosure . . .” His frown deepened. “I must warn you that I am not the prize catch your family probably thinks I am.”

  “What do you mean?” She wasn’t a prize catch, either, given her background. Aunt Flora certainly thought so.

  He sighed and leaned his weight upon his good arm. “It’s a complicated story,” he began, his tone uncharacteristically somber. “But suffice it to say, I have a relative—a first cousin by the name of Timothy—who has told me point-blank that he is about to challenge my claim to the earldom of Langdale.”

  Arabella frowned. “How terrible for you,” she said softly. “I . . . I honestly had no idea that such a thing was even possible.”

  Gabriel grimaced. “I’m afraid it is. Timothy is convinced my parents’ marriage wasn’t valid, and if that is the case, I’m illegitimate.”

  Oh. Arabella swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She feared she might be regarded as illegitimate too. But before she could summon the courage to tell Lord Langdale, he began to speak again.

  “Actually, the reason I’m here in Switzerland is that I’m looking for my mother. She and my father parted ways when I was thirteen, and she’s been living on the Continent ever since. I’m hoping she can provide evidence to refute Timothy’s claim. I have good reason to believe she’s been residing in Italy, and a year ago, she was in the village of Nyon and then Villeneuve. But so far, my search has proved fruitless. I’m hoping the local inquiry agent I have employed will be able to provide me with some useful intelligence in the next week or so.”

  Arabella’s heart cramped with sadness. “Oh my goodness. I can’t even imagine how difficult this all must be for you. And now you are faced with the unpleasant prospect of being caught in the parson’s mousetrap. All because of one silly kiss.”

  Gabriel’s gaze trapped hers. “It wasn’t a single kiss, Arabella. And what we did was far from silly.”

  Arabella blinked at him. He’d used her first name. The intimacy of such a thing, combined with the way he was looking at her so intently, set her heart capering and tied her tongue into tight knots.

  “At any rate,” the earl continued, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she’d just been struck dumb. “I thought you should know about my circumstances before you agreed to accept my proposal. Even if I lose the title, I assure you I have substantial funds set aside that are not linked to the entail. You would want for nothing in a material sense, but the name you take as my wife might bear the ignoble stain of bastardy. And that would have consequences for any children we might have. I would understand completely if you did not want to marry me for that reason.”

  Children. Arabella swallowed and her belly did an odd flip-flop. “I must confess, I hadn’t even thought that far ahead.” Which was foolish of her. Of course a man like Lord Langdale would want children.

  “I would expect you, as my wife, to provide me with an heir. But only if I’m able to retain my title.” He paused, letting the import of what he’d just said sink in. “There’s little point otherwise. I’m reluctant to bring a child into this world if I’m officially declared a bastard by the church courts and the Committee for Privileges.”

  Arabella frowned. “So let me see if I’ve understood you correctly. What you’re telling me is we won’t have marital relations unless and until you can successfully refute your cousin’s challenge.”

  Lord Langdale tilted his head and examined her face. “Not exactly,” he said carefully.

  “What do you mean by that? I’m confused. If we . . .” Arabella blushed to the roots of her hair. “If we do consummate our union, there’s a risk I might fall pregnant. I know how these things work.”

  “Even though our marriage will be in name only for the most part, it will be consummated so its legality can never be questioned. But there are certain measures I can take on our wedding night that will ensure I don’t get you with child.”

  Oh. Arabella knew about the technical aspects of sexual congress and conception—in theory. She thought she understood the particular “measures” Lord Langdale was alluding to . . .

  He suddenly reached out and covered her hand with his. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, Arabella.” His deep voice was laced with a softer, almost nervous edge. “I should also tell you—in the spirit of being open and honest—that I’m not sure if I’m capable of fidelity. I’ve always been a man with a great appetite for life’s carnal delights, and I’m not confident that I can control that aspect of my character.”

  Arabella’s heart sank. She hadn’t anticipated the earl would be so forthcoming about that particular topic. She focused her attention back on the lake, her eyes smarting with the effort to hold back tears. To hear Lord Langdale admit he wouldn’t remain faithful to her—before she’d even agreed to marry him—stung her pride more than just a little. She knew she was plain—her aunt had told her often enough—and not the sort of woman who turned men’s heads. Especially not someone as divinely attractive as Lord Langdale.

  When her wave of self-pity had passed, she said, “I appreciate your candor, my lord. At least I won’t be entering marriage with the wool pulled over my eyes. Indeed, your disclosure shouldn’t really surprise me in the slightest.” Arabella recalled the conversation she’d had with Charlie, Sophie, and Olivia in Gunter’s when they were compiling a list of prospective husbands. Charlie had insisted they all consider her brother’s rakish friends; Lord Langdale’s name had been near the top of the list. “I’ve heard you are quite the rakehell, so it would be naive of me to think you would change your ways. I hope you can forgive me for being indelicate—I’m afraid it’s my practical, medical mind that makes me so—but as you wish to consummate our union, I trust that you are physically well. Despite your great appetite, as you put it.”

  Lord Langdale laughed. “Even though my pedigree is being contested, I assure you I am healthy as a horse. I’ve always taken measures to prevent contracting anything unpleasant, shall we say?” He waggled his eyebrows. “I’m more than happy to submit to a thorough inspection if required.”

  Arabella arched an eyebrow. “That won’t be necessary, my lord. I’ll take you at your word.”

  The earl’s expression sobered. “After I have my heir, I am not opposed to the idea of you taking a lover, Arabella—if that’s what you want, and as long as you are discreet about it. Which reminds me, I’ve been quite remiss not to ask you: What do you actually want? You’re a capable, clever young woman. Do you want a husband and family of your own? What are your aspirations in life? What are you passionate about?”

  Arabella blinked in astonishment. No one had ever asked her such a thing before in such a direct fashion. Not even her grandfather, who’d loved her dearly. And Lord Langdale had posed the question as though she had a choice in the mat
ter; it was a most novel experience to be treated thus. “Even though I cannot be a doctor, I still want to make a difference in this world. I want to help people less fortunate than myself. Especially infants and children who’ve lost their parents and have limited prospects; perhaps because I, too, am an orphan. I’d especially like to advocate for improved conditions in Edinburgh’s and Glasgow’s orphanages; the ones I’m familiar with are in an appalling state. And I’d also like to see an increase in the number of medical dispensaries, not just in London but in other large towns. As for marriage, I’ve never been sure that I’d actually meet someone who would want me as a wife. I am a rather opinionated bluestocking after all. But I always imagined that if I did marry, that I would like to have children one day.”

  Gabriel nodded. “Of course. The House of Lords accepted my parents’ marriage was valid when I claimed the title after my father’s death, so I’m confident my cousin’s challenge will ultimately fail. But even if the worst should happen and I did lose the earldom, just know that as your husband, I would do my very best to accommodate and support your philanthropic endeavors if nothing else.”

  “That’s reassuring to know. And very kind of you.” Arabella’s gaze dropped to the balustrade where Lord Langdale’s large hand lay alongside hers. The hawk’s head signet ring winked at her. This mercurial man was offering her the chance to fulfill her long-held dream. If she didn’t marry him, it was highly likely she would be socially ruined anyway—Aunt Flora had made that abundantly clear—and then she’d never achieve her goals. Even though she didn’t really understand why Lord Langdale wanted to marry her—other than out of a sense of obligation—she realized she would be foolish to refuse him.

  “I must confess, it’s a lot to consider,” she said at last. “I never expected to marry for love, so a practical arrangement suits me well.” She’d been willing to consider Dr. Radcliff as a prospective spouse for the very same reason after all. “And I agree that it would be a sensible idea to delay the begetting of a child until your title is secure.”

  Lord Langdale leaned negligently against the balustrade. His mouth tipped into a beguiling smile. “So, Miss Arabella Jardine, are you telling me that you will at last consent to my offer of marriage?”

  Arabella drew a bracing breath. Was she really going to do this? It seemed she was. “Yes, Lord Langdale. I will accept your proposal.”

  He grinned. “Well, that’s a relief. I was worried your aunt Flora would call me out.”

  Arabella laughed. It was refreshing to know the earl had a sense of humor even in less-than-ideal circumstances. She decided it was one of the things she liked about him. “Honestly, I don’t think any of them—my aunt, Bertie, or Lilias—think I’m worth the effort.”

  Lord Langdale’s brow furrowed, and concern filled his gaze. “I’ve only known you a short time, but it’s evident that there’s no love lost between you and your family.”

  “No . . .” Arabella sighed. “There’s not. My aunt and I have always had a prickly relationship. I have no doubt at all that she’ll be glad to see the back of me.”

  Sympathy lit the earl’s eyes as he offered his uninjured arm. “Shall we return to the house to share our felicitous news anyway?”

  “Aye.” Arabella placed her hand on his muscular forearm and they descended the stairs of the belvedere. “Did you know Aunt Flora has invited you to dinner?”

  Lord Langdale nodded. “Yes . . .” He cast her a sideways glance. “Actually, Dr. Kerr has also invited me to spend the night.”

  “Oh . . .” Arabella’s pulse leapt, and she dropped her gaze to the wet grass. Just thinking about Lord Langdale sleeping under the same roof as her made her quiver with an emotion she suspected might be nervous anticipation. After they were married, they’d be sharing a bed. And to think she’d only just met the earl this morning. This was a strange day indeed.

  When she didn’t say anything else, Lord Langdale added, “Although I’m sure the Kerrs’ hospitality is contingent upon the announcement of our betrothal.”

  “I expect so.” Arabella gathered her wits and decided to focus on the practical. “But I’m glad you’re staying, because it will save you the trouble of trying to return to Villeneuve before it grows dark. Given the ferocity of the storm, the roads might be treacherous, and you’re in no fit state to ride. My goodness—” Arabella halted. “Your horse! I do hope it’s all right. Dr. Kerr sent someone to look for it.”

  Lord Langdale smiled. “It is indeed, thanks to you. Dr. Kerr informed me that you were the one who saw the poor beast bolt behind the house. Aside from a bruised hoof, he’s quite fine.”

  “Good.” Arabella smiled back. “I’m quite relieved.”

  They’d almost gained the villa’s rear terrace when Lord Langdale said quietly, “I expect we’ll be married by the end of next week. If you agree.”

  Arabella stopped so abruptly, she almost stumbled. “In a week?” she said faintly. “Why . . . why so soon?” In her mind they would perhaps get married when they returned to London. Clearly she’d been mistaken.

  Lord Langdale’s brow creased with concern as he studied her face. “I do believe you’re more reluctant than I am to wed. But I don’t see any point in delaying the inevitable. Do you?”

  Arabella sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Forgive me if I sound a trifle unenthusiastic, my lord. But I’m still becoming accustomed to the whole idea of being your wife.”

  “That’s only natural. I’m going to ask Dr. Kerr to officiate at the ceremony here, but to ensure our marriage is also recognized in England, we will also be wed by an Anglican clergyman when we return home. I’ll not have anyone questioning the validity of our marriage.”

  “I understand. And I agree, that sounds eminently sensible to me too.”

  “Good. There’s just one more thing . . .” Lord Langdale glanced into the now deserted morning room before turning back to face her directly. “Two actually.”

  Arabella frowned up into his handsome face. His deep green eyes were partly shielded by the sweep of his black lashes, so she couldn’t quite ascertain his mood or intent. “Yes?”

  “Firstly, I would like it very much if you called me Gabriel rather than Lord Langdale, or my lord.”

  “Oh, of course, my . . . I mean, Gabriel.” His name felt strange on her lips. Though she couldn’t deny it suited him very well.

  “And secondly,” he continued in a low, dark-velvet voice as he moved closer. “I’m bedeviled by a burning need to kiss you. To seal the plighting of our troth. If you consent . . .”

  Arabella swallowed. Temptation too strong to resist thrummed in her veins. “I . . . very well,” she murmured huskily. “To plight our troth.”

  Her breath hitched as Lord Langdale—Gabriel—cupped her face ever so gently. His thumb caressed her cheekbone, and his heated gaze dipped to her lips. Slowly but surely, he bent down and claimed her mouth in a soft, bone-melting, languid kiss. The satiny glide of his lips and the warm, silken dance of his tongue made her toes curl in her slippers. Her knees grew so weak, she had to clutch at the lapels of his borrowed banyan.

  “I really wish this cursed arm of mine wasn’t in a sling,” he whispered against her mouth when they broke apart. “I want to lash you against me. Sweep you up and carry you away somewhere. Somewhere private.”

  A reluctant smile pulled at Arabella’s lips. She was bemused that he seemed to want her so much. But then she was a warm, willing female and he was a rake. She shouldn’t put too much stock in his professed desire. “You did warn me about your appetite,” she murmured.

  “Yes, and right at this very moment, I’m simply ravenous.” Gabriel kissed her again, and by the time they came up for air, Arabella was certain she was developing an appetite for all things carnal too.

  “We should go inside,” she said, forcing herself to step away from his lean, hard body. She’d been nervous abou
t the prospect of being bedded by Gabriel on their wedding night, but if his kisses were anything to go by, she had no doubt she would be in expert hands.

  Gabriel nodded. “Yes, we should. Though I think I need a moment. I’m a bit hot and flustered and I don’t want to shock the ladies again.”

  Arabella laughed. “I could always throw a bucket of cold water over you. I think one of the housemaids left one in the morning room.”

  “And here I was thinking you were kindness personified.”

  “I have little sympathy if your pain is self-inflicted. You were only going to kiss me once, if I recall. To plight our troth.”

  “Yes.” He sighed and adjusted his banyan to hide the front of his borrowed breeches. “But the problem is, Arabella, once I start kissing you, I can’t seem to stop.”

  She cast him a wry smile. “I’ve noticed.”

  “I haven’t heard you complain,” he countered as he offered his arm.

  “No . . .” And that was a problem. Arabella’s contented mood faded as her fiancé escorted her into the villa. She’d only just met Gabriel, and given the way her pulse capered when he smiled and her head spun when he kissed her, she suddenly realized she might be in serious danger of losing her heart to this man. A man who’d just professed he could never be faithful. A man who was unlikely to fall in love with a plain, bookish, bespectacled bluestocking.

  This marriage wouldn’t be a love match like Sophie and Lord Malverne’s. It was a business transaction. Gabriel—if he retained his title—wanted an heir one day. And she hoped to secure funds to support the charities dear to her heart.

  It was as simple as that. And it was something she would do well to remember in the coming days and months. And years.

  At least she would no longer be beholden to her aunt and the rest of her family.

  Now that was something she could smile about.