The Earl's Countess 0f Convenience (Penniless Brides 0f Convenience Book 1)

by Marguerite Kaye

  He took her hand, running his fingers over the scratches.

  ‘Did you enjoy it?’

  She laughed shakily. ‘Mostly.’

  ‘I had a tedious day. I’d have much preferred to have been climbing trees with you.’

  Their eyes locked, and her breath caught in her throat at the heat which flared between them. She thought she might stop breathing if he didn’t kiss her, if he didn’t, just this once, stop fighting his instincts. They moved together slowly, painfully slowly. Their lips met and clung for a moment as they hesitated, willing themselves to pull apart, but neither did. They kissed. A tentative kiss, as if they had not kissed before, and perhaps they had not, because this time there was no pretence. This was not the Earl kissing his wife. From the moment their lips met, there was no doubt that this was Alexander kissing Eloise. And Eloise kissing Alexander.

  At first it was simply a release, the sheer bliss of not having to resist, of succumbing to temptation. He cupped her cheek as he kissed her. She curled her fingers into his hair as she kissed him back. Time slowed and stopped as they kissed, kisses so soothing and so gentle that she barely noticed the heat building inside her, intent only on returning his kisses, on mirroring the way he touched her, stroking, smoothing, soothing. She slid her fingers inside his coat, wanting to feel the heat of his skin. He shrugged himself free of it. She ran her hands over his arms, across his shoulders, down his back. He kissed her neck, her throat, then their lips met again, and they had already crossed the boundary of just kissing.

  She tugged at his neckcloth, pulling it free to expose the line of his throat, burying her face into the warmth of his skin, kissing. He kissed her breasts along the neckline of her evening gown. She shuddered. She unfastened his waistcoat, running her hands over his chest, feeling the muscles ripple at her touch, feeling his breath inhale sharply, excited by the effect she had on him. He loosened the fastenings at the back of her gown, sliding the bodice down her arms, and all she cared about was that there was now more of her for him to kiss. She ran her hands through his hair again as he dipped his head, kissed into the valley between her breasts, his hands cupping, his mouth licking, and all of it twisting her tightly inside, that drugging ache she remembered making her breathe fast and shallow.

  Taking her lead from him, she tugged his shirt free, smoothing her palms at last over his skin as he pulled it over his head. Hot skin. Muscles rippling on his shoulders. The knotted ridge of his spine. Their mouths meeting again, kisses so deep and so delightful and so delicious. She rubbed her cheek against the soft fuzz of hair on his chest, inhaled the scent of his skin, soap and sweat and something innately male. He untied the laces at the front of her stays and cupped her breasts. A shuddering escaped her. He lowered his head, took her nipple in his mouth, and she moaned. Her body thrummed, twisted, ached. She smoothed her palms over his nipples, felt them pucker at her touch, felt his chest expand, contract, then she stroked lower, the dip of his ribcage.

  She kissed him again. He kissed her back as if he was ravenous, desperate to consume her. It was like a hunger, this need she had, a craving that made her anxious, tense, fevered. He eased her on to the sofa and still they kissed. She couldn’t lie still, instead twisting under him, her body arching as he took her nipple in his mouth again and sucked. Everything seemed to centre, focus deep inside her. His hand found her other breast, and she had the same dizzying sensation as she’d had at the top of the tree, and then she fell, swooped, unravelled, felt her body shuddering, heard herself crying out over and over, clutching at his shoulders as if he would save her. Which he did. Pulling her hard against him, stroking her hair as she burrowed her face into his chest, keeping her safe until it was over.

  She felt weighted down and at the same time as if she might float away. She felt as if she consisted of bubbles or honey or a mixture of both. Dazed, she lifted her head. Alexander’s eyes were dark, his lids heavy, his mouth—she touched his mouth. The area around the sofa was scattered with their discarded clothing. ‘What happened?’

  A laugh shook him. Then he swore under his breath. ‘Something that categorically should not have happened.’

  She stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. ‘You mean that I should not have...’

  ‘No!’ He got to his feet, pulling the tasselled silk cloth from the table and handing it to her. ‘What happened to you is perfectly natural.’

  He picked up his shirt and pulled it over his head. Her bewilderment must have been written over her face, because he sat back down on the edge of the sofa. ‘What you felt was a—a natural conclusion to what we were doing.’

  ‘But we did not—I mean you did not—we didn’t.’ The extent of her ignorance astounded her. ‘I thought the natural conclusion was something else entirely.’

  ‘Fortunately, we came to our senses before we reached that stage.’

  Curiosity overcame her embarrassment. ‘I didn’t know there were stages.’

  ‘Well, there are,’ Alexander said tersely.

  ‘Are you angry because we did not—?’

  ‘Could we stop discussing what we did and did not do? This is a conversation you should have with another female, if you must have it. Lady Elmswood...’

  ‘Kate is probably even more ignorant on the subject than I am. I’m sorry, Alexander...’

  ‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. I’m not angry with you, Eloise, I’m angry with myself. I can’t understand—I knew, I know, heaven knows, I know—and yet it didn’t even cross my mind.’ He screwed his eyes shut, clenching his fists. ‘How could I have forgotten? I will not be so bloody stupid as to risk repeating the same mistake.’

  He didn’t seem to realise he was talking out loud. His eyes were closed. He would not have noticed the effect that last sentence had on her. Alexander never makes the same mistake twice, Sir Marcus had said. So she had been right. He had been involved in an affaire and it had gone horribly wrong. That was why he had not been interested in making love to anyone. Until she had tempted him!

  Eloise scrabbled to her feet, scooping up items of clothing, pulling her dress up over her shoulder, heedless of the tearing sound it made. ‘This won’t happen again, I promise.’

  ‘It was not your doing, it was mine. I knew what I was doing, you did not.’

  ‘I am ignorant, but I’m not naïve. I will not allow you to take the blame.’

  ‘I have been wanting to make love to you ever since we agreed that it was out of the question.’

  ‘There, that’s the problem in a nutshell,’ she exclaimed. ‘It is human nature to want what one cannot have.’

  ‘Then the only solution is to remove the source of temptation. I think it’s for the best that I return to active service as soon as possible.’

  Active service! He must be extremely upset, to have let his guard slip that much. She must not let him see that she’d noticed. She didn’t want him to return to whatever active service entailed. She wanted—all she wanted at this moment was to escape before she said something stupid. ‘Let’s forget this happened,’ Eloise said, backing towards the door. ‘It meant nothing. It changes nothing.’

  ‘Eloise, you know that’s not true.’ Alexander scooped up his waistcoat and coat along with her shoes. ‘We are neither of us in the right frame of mind to discuss this any further tonight. I think we should get some sleep and talk in the morning.’

  He held out her shoes. ‘To be honest, I was already thinking that the time was approaching to return to work.’

  Work, not active service. He had recovered his poise. Eloise forced a smile. ‘I climbed the tree today because I was feeling—not bored exactly, but I feel as if I’m stuck in a rut.’

  ‘There, you see, great minds think alike.’ Alexander held the door open. ‘Go to bed, Eloise. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

  * * *

  They were in the library, sitting on t
he sofas by the fire facing each other. This was the room where Eloise had made the most changes. Not only were the sofas reupholstered and extremely comfortable, they were strewn with cushions in bright colours, quirkily embroidered—her own work. The curtains were new. The bronze clock on the mantel, with Venus rising from the waves, looked new now that it had been cleaned. The whole room gleamed. Fresh flowers filled the hearth. About half the bookcases had been reordered, the new catalogue lying open on the desk.

  ‘You’ve done an impressive amount of work here,’ Alexander said, looking about him in surprise. She had not, since the first day, asked him for help. Knowing it was her sanctuary, she assumed, he had been avoiding the room.

  Eloise waved the compliment aside, pouring him a cup of coffee. She had spent the long night preparing her strategy for this discussion. She was determined to get their marriage back on an even keel. Not because she was being so foolish as to care too much, but because the reasons for this match were still valid. She consulted her notebook quite unnecessarily. ‘I think we’ve rather lost sight of why we agreed to marry in the first place. If we can remind ourselves what is important, then what happened last night won’t happen again.’

  Alexander took a sip of coffee. ‘I reached the same conclusion myself, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Good.’ Very good, in fact! ‘So let us remind ourselves, then. You had three goals. A settlement for your mother. A secure future for your estates. A return to your work abroad. My objectives were equally straightforward. Funds to settle on my sisters to allow them the freedom to choose their own future. To relieve the burden on my aunt and uncle. And secure the freedom, and opportunity, for me to decide what I wanted to do. Do I have that right?’

  ‘Perfectly right.’

  Alexander’s mouth twitched. She wondered if he was comparing her to an Admiralty clerk—a real Admiralty clerk, the sort whose day was not over until he had ticked off every task on his list. ‘Excellent,’ Eloise continued, keeping her eyes on her notebook. ‘And am I right in saying that you feel these goals are still well worth achieving?’

  ‘Of course they are.’

  ‘Then you should know I feel exactly the same. Though my own are considerably—but that is not the point,’ she rallied. ‘The point is, what happened last night—in the light of these goals—well, it’s obvious that we would be extremely foolish to allow it to put any of that at risk. Logically, I mean, it simply makes no sense. Does it?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t. But while you’re discovering what it is that makes you happy, I don’t want to do anything to make you unhappy.’

  ‘You’re providing me with the means to find my happiness.’

  ‘You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.’ He joined her on the other sofa. ‘Your parents’ marriage made you frightened of lovemaking. You thought your disgust of it was ingrained and permanent. I took your assurances on the subject at face value because it suited me to do so. And now that you are married, or more likely, now that you have for the first time in your life had the time to think only about yourself, away from your sisters and all the family associations, you see things very differently. Yes?’

  She smiled faintly. ‘Well, I know I’m not going to turn into my mother simply because I’ve discovered that I like to—that I enjoyed what you did last night. I did enjoy it, but I am not a fool, Alexander. I would not risk bringing a child into this world for the sake of a few moments’ gratification, especially since you’ve made it very clear that you do not want children.’

  ‘I have not swerved from that view. Have you?’

  She had not considered the question. She forced herself to do so now, aware of his gaze, knowing how important it was to be honest with him. It wouldn’t be any child, it would be Alexander’s child, and hers. Of course she would love it, as she loved her sisters. Of course she would be a good mother, because she had mothered her sisters, because she had the perfect example not to follow, of how to be a bad mother. But did that mean she wanted a baby, when she had only just begun on her journey of discovery? No. Would she ever wish a child on a man who did not want it? No. ‘I haven’t changed my mind,’ she said firmly, meeting his gaze square on. ‘I promise you.’

  He took his time to mull this over. The fact that they had both, contrary to all their expectations, lost themselves in pleasure, seemed to Eloise to hang over them, an unacknowledged but entirely present unpleasant truth. She desperately wanted to know what had transpired with the mysterious other woman he had last taken his pleasure with, but that was a nest of vipers he clearly wished left undisturbed. It also led them into the murky waters of the real nature of his work—and she had already decided she could never do that.

  He still had not spoken. She risked touching his hand lightly. ‘So you see, I have thought all of this through. We have made a good match, Alexander. We can make a success of it. What would make me unhappy would be if you had changed your mind about that.’

  ‘I have not changed my mind. I do want to make a success of this, of course I do, but I don’t want it to be a sacrifice on your part.’

  Eloise stifled a huge sigh of relief. ‘No, for we agreed, didn’t we, that sacrifice breeds resentment, and we are bound together, for better or worse. There’s a difference between deciding that a price is worth paying, and making a sacrifice.’

  ‘You would make an admirable lawyer.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s what I will become. England’s first female lawyer. Sadly, the law of the land will have to be changed in order for me to satisfy that ambition.’

  ‘Alternatively, you could set yourself up in business as a refurbisher of houses. Use this place as your pattern book, when it’s done. You have a real knack for breathing life into a room—like this one. I know there are new curtains and new covers on the sofas but there’s more to it—it gleams, and yet it is very restful.’

  ‘Thank you. I have certainly enough to occupy me here for a time, while I think about what I really want to do. I’ve been considering paying a short visit to my sisters. It’s too hot for them to come to London, and besides, Kate won’t leave Elmswood Manor until after the harvest.’

  ‘You miss them?’

  ‘Of course, but not as much as I expected. To be honest,’ Eloise said, ‘it’s rather that I thought you and I might benefit from a few days spent apart.’

  ‘To cool our ardour, you mean?’ he said sardonically.

  ‘To regain some perspective!’ To her horror, her eyes filled with tears. She turned away, blinking furiously.

  Alexander cursed roundly. ‘My apologies. It must have cost you dearly to speak out as you have, and it has been very much worth saying.’ He touched her shoulder. ‘I think it’s a capital idea for you to get some respite from London and see your sisters.’

  She nodded, dabbing at her eyes before turning back around. ‘I’m a little overwrought.’

  ‘No wonder.’ He made to take her hand, then thought the better of it. ‘You are not the only one who has spent the night deep in thought. I have not forgotten what you said to me the day after our wedding ball, the regret you implied at not having the opportunity to attempt any type of reconciliation with your father.’

  ‘Oh.’ The change of subject took her aback. ‘I did wonder—but then you didn’t say anything and I thought...’

  ‘That I had decided to let sleeping mothers lie? No, but it’s no small step to take, after all this time.’

  ‘Goodness, I know. Or at least,’ Eloise amended sadly, ‘I don’t. I’m glad though. Tell me what you have decided.’

  ‘I think I must pay her a visit before I go abroad again. There’s much that I don’t understand. You’re right, she must have been miserable. They must all have been miserable down the generations, those faceless females.’

  ‘I’ve been wondering about that. What happened to the girls? I presume there must have been female children? Your cou
sin Raymond’s mother, for example?’

  ‘Raymond’s father was the Sixth Earl’s brother. That is why Raymond was raised the Fearnoch way, because that is how his father was raised.’

  ‘But Raymond’s father must have been a second son, like you?’

  ‘A second son, but quite unlike me.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I’m not the Sixth Earl’s son. I have no idea who my father was, but he’s not the man whose portrait is hanging in the gallery upstairs.’

  Eloise stared in astonishment. She must have misheard him. Or she had mistaken what he’d said. ‘You can’t mean—you mean that you are illegitimate? That Walter is not your brother?’

  ‘Walter is my half-brother.’

  Eloise shook her head in disbelief. ‘So your mother—but good grief, how on earth do you know—what makes you think such a thing could be true?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Alexander said, ‘this has come as a shock to you.’

  ‘That is something of an understatement.’

  ‘I’ve lived with the truth for so long it seems self-explanatory to me.’

  ‘How you can be so certain? That is, if the subject is not too painful.’

  ‘It’s not.’ His mouth was set. ‘I don’t give a damn about the Earl. I’m actually relieved he’s not my father. When I told you that I consider myself fortunate to have escaped Walter’s upbringing I meant it.’

  ‘It doesn’t mean that you can’t still be hurt that you were raised as you were. How did you discover the truth of your parentage.’

  ‘Deduced, rather than discovered. I have no tangible proof but it’s the only explanation that makes sense. Why else would I have been so ruthlessly exiled? It is a well-established custom for all Fearnoch menfolk to be bred and raised in their father’s image. Of course I didn’t think so rationally as a child. When I was first sent to school, I was convinced I was being punished for something. I had no idea what I’d done wrong, but I knew it must have been serious, because why else would Walter be allowed to stay at home?’