The Earl's Desire

by Alexia Praks

  “If you mean did I shoot myself, nay, Doctor, I did not,” Merrick said through gritted teeth.

  “Poacher, Doctor,” Christine interjected.

  The doctor stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her.

  “Who are you, boy?” he asked curiously.

  “My ward,” Merrick supplied. The doctor nodded and resumed with his work. Fifteen minutes later, he was finished.

  “That should be fine now. I’ll come back in two days’ time and see how the wound is doing… Pretty boy,” he mumbled to himself. “Now, my lord, no hard work for a week,” he stated.

  “No physical work?” Merrick snapped. “Surely you must be joking, Doctor. I’m not going to be a vegetable for a week.”

  The doctor looked taken aback.

  “But surely ’tis for your own good,” Christine said. “I agree with the doctor.”

  Dr. Bennett looked at her again. She blushed and bowed her head.

  “Now there is something you don’t see every day, eh?” Dr. Bennett beamed at Mrs. Ross.

  The housekeeper cleared her throat. “If there is nothing else, I’ll take these and get them cleaned up.” She gathered up the mess of bowls and cloths and left the room.

  “Remember what I told you: no hard work for a week,” the doctor said and turned to Christine. “And you will nurse him for me. I want you to report to me if he is not following my orders. Now, I know he doesn’t generally take orders, but this one is an exception.” He smiled at her.

  “I’ll show you out, sir,” Christine said, still blushing profoundly.

  “Nay, I know my way out.” He waved his hand and left the room, muttering along the corridor, “Pretty boy indeed… never seen the like in…”

  “Merrick, you must put on a shirt—you might get a fever,” Christine said, heading for the wardrobe. A few seconds later, she came back with a clean shirt in her hand. “Here, you must put this on.”

  “I don’t need it—I won’t get a fever,” Merrick said.

  “Merrick?” She frowned at him. “Really, this is very important.”

  Merrick stared at her in surprise. Few people ever argued with him. Clearly, the boy doesn’t know any better.

  “Chris, leave now. I have some business to do,” he told her and stood up, dismissing her.

  “But at least put this on first.” She held the shirt up to him.

  The boy is very stubborn, he thought. He snatched the shirt and put it on and just to please her. Still frowning, he left the room to work on his accounts in the study.

  SIX

  “I’m leaving for London tomorrow, Chris,” Merrick announced, then sipped the red wine as he watched his ward eating her cottage pie with enjoyment, licking the fork and her lips with her small tongue. He thought she looked quite enchanting wearing that new shirt and blue cravat that Paris had taken many minutes to arrange on her person. Just ripe for the plucking, though any such thought was against God’s rule of nature. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Not now and hadn’t been able to for the last two weeks. It was hell!

  Christine looked up, and her heart did a startled kick at the thought of being without him. “Why are you leaving?” she asked, knowing already that he wasn’t going to take her with him. London, she thought. He was going to London. He was going to see Lady Anne Wilson.

  He put his wineglass down. Christine didn’t know that his hand was gripping the stem of the glass and that it would break any second now if he were to apply more force.

  “Parliament,” he said curtly. “And then the season.”

  Aye, the season, with balls and parties and women, he thought. That would certainly take his mind off the more sinful things that had been keeping him awake at nights. And yes, Maria—beautiful Maria, his mistress. She would no doubt take his mind off this sinful lust he had toward his own ward.

  “Oh,” Christine said, turning back to her food.

  “If you’re lonely, your family can visit you. They can stay as long as they like. When I’m gone, you’ll be the master of the house, so feel free to do as you please,” he said.

  Christine nodded. “Thank you. How long will you be away?”

  “Until summer, and then there will be guests coming here. I’ve planned a summer house party.”

  No doubt, she thought, his intention was to bring Lady Anne here so that he could propose to her.

  “You will look after yourself, too, won’t you?” She watched him pour himself another glass of wine and down it. “You might get all hot like the other time if you drink too much.”

  Merrick started coughing, his face turning red.

  “Are you all right, Merrick?” She ran up to him and put a hand on his back, ready to thump if Merrick needed it.

  Damn him! Merrick thought. Those hands, God, those small, gentle hands on his back. They felt so good.

  Christine lowered her head toward him, her nose inches away from his high forehead. “Are you better now?” she asked, smiling at him with bright eyes.

  Merrick glanced up, saw her so near, and sucked in his breath. He wanted to kiss those lips. He gritted his teeth at the stupid urge. Had his prime male instinct gone haywire?

  He could feel the warmth near him, and God, how he wanted to feel even more. He knew then that he had made the right decision to go to London early, whether there was Parliament or not. He was not going to go through this torture of self-doubt, this insanity, anymore.

  He stood abruptly, making Christine jump back. “I leave early tomorrow morning. Good night, Chris,” he said and stalked out the room.

  Alone in the dinning room, Christine was confused. What had just happened?

  Merrick couldn’t sleep that night. He kept thinking about Christine and those lips for most of the night. When dawn came, he was glad to be up and gone—gone miles and miles away.

  And so he left for London without a word of farewell to Christine, afraid that if he saw her before he left he’d change his mind and take her with him. Aye, he was glad indeed.

  SEVEN

  Eight Months Later

  Maximilian Devilyn, Duke of Lynwood, got out of the carriage with poise and ease. He was elegantly attired in a black coat, starched white cravat, and dark trousers. His blond hair was fashioned in a disheveled crop beneath the tall gray hat that was tilted to one side. As he stood there staring up at the vast blue sky, he took a deep breath and smiled.

  On the other side of the carriage, Allan Hasting also got out. He, too, was tall and elegantly dressed, but not as striking as the duke.

  “At last, we are here,” Allan said. As the door of Huntingdon Hall opened, he exclaimed, “Ross, it’s good to be here again.”

  “Aye, sir,” Ross replied, smiling.

  Merrick came out of the drawing room then and moved toward his cousin. “Allan, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, as you can see. How are you, dear cousin? Hope you aren’t working yourself to death.” The young man laughed.

  Merrick was about to say that of course he wasn’t when he saw his friend coming in through the door as he had been coming and going through that door countless times for the past ten years.

  “How was the drive, Max?” Merrick asked.

  “Fine,” Max replied and gave Merrick a good, manly hug.

  “Come, have a drink. You must be tired after all that traveling,” he said and led the way into the drawing room—the drawing room that had dramatically been changed during his absence.

  “That’s better. Cooler in here,” Allan said, as he headed toward the settee near the window and took a seat. Max took a seat next to him.

  “Here.” Merrick passed them each a glass of whisky. “How is London? Busy as usual?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of brandy.

  Allan nodded. “How soon will the guests be arriving?” he asked.

  “Later today or tomorrow,” Merrick replied. “I hope you handled my business in London all right, Allan. I didn’t plan to leave London in such haste…”

 
He studied the amber liquid in his snifter. Why had he left London earlier than usual when the season had still been in full bloom?

  “Don’t worry, old chap. Everything is fine,” the cousin replied and took a sip of his whisky. “It wasn’t that spectacular after you left anyway—isn’t that right, Your Grace?” He looked at Maximilian. “Just the same old balls and dinner parties, and the sort; you know, like our old George throws when he feels the urge to.”

  “Same old George,” Merrick said and finished the rest of his brandy. “Didn’t think I’d miss much.”

  Maximilian emptied his whisky in one big gulp and stood up. “My room still the same?” he asked Merrick.

  Merrick wasn’t sure if his friend’s room was still the same because he hadn’t checked. In fact, he wasn’t sure if anything in his house was still the same because of his ward’s hand in spring cleaning.

  “Have a look yourself,” he said, avoiding his friend’s eyes.

  Maximilian gave Merrick a raised eyebrow and left.

  Allan straightened up in his seat. “Merrick?” he started, watching his cousin taking a seat opposite him.

  “You need to talk about business, Allan?”

  “Well, yes. Your land is big,” he started. “I know a man, and he’ll be attending the upcoming horse race.”

  “And?” Merrick put his snifter down on the table.

  Allan put down his glass and clasped his hands as he leaned forward.

  “What type of business?”

  “You know—we’ve talked about this before.”

  “Is it about opening that cotton mill?” Merrick turned to look out the window. The scenery was beautiful outside with the lush, green leaves swaying from side to side as warm, gentle breezes danced around them; the blue sky was high and cloudless, and the rainbow colors of blooming roses, lavender, and marigold were scattered about in the beautifully designed garden.

  “Indeed, Merrick. You see, there are enough people in this village to work for us. And you have the wealth and the land,” Allan said enthusiastically.

  “Allan, you know I have to consider my people. I don’t want to force them all to leave their homes. I want a secure future for them,” he said, smiling with good humor.

  “They can always work for us, as I’ve already told you. The pay isn’t bad, really.” Allan got up and approached his cousin.

  “Yes, I know that, but some people still prefer to live in the old ways, farming their land. And as for the wages, they are rather low considering that in most mills the workers put in more than ten hours a day. And might I remind you that I don’t like child labor? If this business is going to go ahead, there will be no child labor.”

  “All right, Merrick, I know.” Allan sighed. “Oh, by the way—” He halted, frowned at the sound of horse hooves and carriages wheels drawing to a stop outside and reluctantly followed his cousin out of the drawing room. They met the butler at the corridor.

  “The Earl of Queensbury and his family have arrived, my lord,” Ross announced, opening the door.

  Merrick nodded and went outside. There he saw a thin, tall, middle-aged man come out of the carriage.

  “Difficult traveling in summer, I say,” Lord Queensbury commented. He sighed and turned to help his wife and daughter down while Merrick and Allan descended the stairs toward them.

  “Huntingdon, Hasting, how are you both? It’s a long time since we’ve met—when was the last time?” The earl frowned in concentration as they clasped hands.

  “It was the Richmonds’ ball, dear, and not very long ago at all,” his wife supplied and turned to Merrick. “My lord.” She nodded and offered her gloved hand to Merrick.

  He took it and touched it to his lips, Allan following suit.

  “The journey was difficult?” Merrick asked.

  “Not as pleasant as I had hoped. But nevertheless, my lord, one must bear the pain of staying stationary for many hours in order to get from A to B.” She laughed merrily and fluttered her fan about her smooth face.

  “Indeed.” Merrick nodded and turned his attention to the young woman before him. “Lady Anne, welcome to my home. I do hope you will like it here.”

  “It is indeed very beautiful, my lord. I am sure I will, of course, enjoy it here.” She smiled at him pleasantly.

  “Ah, Lady Anne.” Allan reached for her hand. “You’re still as radiant as ever, my dear.” He bowed and kissed her gloved hand.

  She blushed prettily and giggled. “Nay, Mr. Hasting, you’re over-complimenting me,” she said as she gently touched one hand to her blushing cheek.

  “No, no. It is the truth—isn’t that right, Merrick?” Allan turned to his cousin.

  “Hmm.” Merrick smiled at the young woman who was looking back at him with bright eyes. She was especially beautiful under the midafternoon sun with her honey-blond hair styled into ringlets and her blue eyes shining with obvious happiness.

  “Your estate is enchanting, my lord. The flowers are especially beautiful. A picnic would be very nice. Might I suggest one for tomorrow?” Anne said, eyeing the handsome young earl.

  “Of course,” Merrick agreed. “Do come inside. ’Tis rather hot out here,” he said and led them into the Hall.

  Mrs. Ross and a parlor maid, Emma, entered the drawing room with tea set just as the guests reached the main entrance. Their tasks finished, they left the room.

  Emma couldn’t contain herself and rushed below stairs, squealing with delight, “Did ye see her? Oh God, she is so beautiful. Oh, Master Chris, Lady Anne is here, and she’s so beautiful.” She jumped up and down with joy.

  “Really, Emma. You don’t have to act as though God has finally made you a princess,” Betty, another parlor maid with dark brown hair and blue eyes, retorted sarcastically.

  “Hah, Betty, you’re just jealous ’cause I’m going to win the bet,” Emma retorted.

  Christine grinned. It looked like Emma was going to win the bet she and Betty had over who was going to be Merrick’s new bride. With Merrick returning from London a full month before the season was to end and virtually accompanied by Lady Anne and her family, the servants’ gossip had increased about the possibility of a new countess.

  “Emma, Betty, the luggage,” Mrs. Ross said from the door. “And you, too, Master Chris. You must meet the guests,” she said and left again.

  “Mayhap we can get a peek at Lady Anne,” Emma said, looking pointedly at Betty.

  “Oh, that girl,” Betty said through gritted teeth. “She thinks she has won the bet already. Huh, we’ll see about that. Come, Master Chris.” She snorted and walked toward the kitchen door.

  They arrived in the hallway and halted. There they stood and stared wide-eyed at the mountain of bags that the footmen and maids had just dumped from the many carriages outside.

  “God!” Betty exclaimed, putting her hands to her forehead, pretending to faint as she looked at Christine.

  Christine giggled. She clamped her mouth shut with both her hands. Since Merrick had deserted her months ago for London, she had felt lonely and found companionship with the servants. She was a part of them now—one of the close-knit family. She even helped them out daily with the chores even though they had refused to let her touch a thing at first. She had told them firmly that she must earn her keep and she would do so by helping them out with the chores. Besides that, she had told them, she would be bored to death if she were to do nothing. That was when they had told her she should learn to do housekeeping since, after all, she was the earl’s ward. And so began her lesson on housekeeping with both Mr. and Mrs. Ross, who found it a pleasure teaching her for she was a fast learner. Now, after Christine had put her hands into spring cleaning the Hall, the place looked bright and very inviting, and the servants had said so to her with delight. Mrs. Ross had said to her at one time that she had the imagination and tactic of a woman instead of a young man. And Christine had blushed with delight with that compliment.

  Betty shook her head and started to pick up a bag.


  “Give me that one, Betty. I’ll help you,” Christine said.

  “Are you sure, Master Chris?” Betty asked, her eyes large.

  “Of course, I wanted to see this Lady Anne. See how she treats people like me. Now pass that to me.” Christine gave out her hands.

  “Oh, good idea,” Betty giggled. “Here then.” She dumped the bag into Christine’s arms.

  Christine caught it, and because of the weight she crashed to the floor. “Good Lord, what’s in there?” she exclaimed, pushed herself up, and rubbed her backside.

  “I’m so sorry, Master Chris,” Betty said apologetically.

  “I’m all right, Betty. Now let’s go.” Christine walked to the stairs. Betty picked one herself and followed.

  “Hmm, I wonder who these bags belonged to.” Betty frowned and stopped abruptly, causing Christine to halt behind her to avoid them crashing into each other.

  “Excuse me!” They heard a voice from down the hall somewhere. They turned to the left of the corridor and saw a maid hovering near one of the guests’ rooms.

  “Come here. Those bags belong to Lady Anne,” the maid said, waving her hand at them to come toward her.

  Christine and Betty looked at each other, smiling. They knew this was their chance for a meeting. They picked up the bags and staggered toward the woman as she opened the door wider.

  “Here, you two can set them over there.” She pointed in the direction of the bed. They followed her instruction and placed the bags near the bed in the center of the room. Christine was about to walk to the door when she heard a sharp voice behind her.

  “Claire! Do come help me with this stupid gown. It’s too tight on me. Oh God, I can’t breathe! This corset is killing me. Damn it, Claire, hurry up. Can’t you see I’m suffocating?”

  Christine eyed the beautiful woman. She was at a loss for words as she stared at the angelic form. The woman had golden-blond hair that was formed into ringlets high on her head with some curls dropping down that rested about at her breasts. Her skin was petal white and smooth like ivory. She was slender and tall. Suddenly, Christine felt like she was dirt next to a diamond.