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

by Marguerite Kaye

  This business of Clarence’s was not his business. Sir Marcus would claim he was being unpatriotic, but he had nothing to reproach himself about. He had more than done his bit for King and country. Let someone else pick up the cudgel. He could stay, complete this mission, but now that he’d decided, he couldn’t wait another day—not when every day apart from Eloise risked her deciding they could never be together.

  The relief of having made his decision was momentous. Why had he waited so long! He had to get back to England as soon as he could, beg Eloise to give him one more chance, and to hell with the consequences.

  * * *

  Eloise rolled up the architect’s plans for the new workers’ village. They were simply outline sketches rather than plans at this stage, but if the latest tests proved the coal seams to be as extensive as earlier trial excavations had indicated, then she would have all the funds she needed to build houses furnished with every modern amenity to provide a school, a village hall and a good deal more. Pulling her notebook towards her, she began to write out a list of tasks for tomorrow. No need to order dinner, she was dining with Constance, as she did two or three times a week, but she ought to think about ordering some supplies for when the twins arrived in a couple of days. Though it might be better to wait until Phoebe got here and commandeered the kitchen.

  The ink dried on her pen as Eloise stared off into space. What was Alexander doing now? Where was he? The utter silence, the lack of any sort of communication from him, was the hardest thing to bear. There were no letters. She had expected there might be an occasional update from Sir Marcus. Even an all’s well, fear not note would have been most welcome, but he had not been in touch. In the small hours of the morning, Eloise had contemplated calling at the Admiralty, but so far daylight had brought common sense with it. She had heard nothing because there was nothing to report. No news was good news, she reminded herself.

  Missing Alexander was agony. Even if she had not decided to come to Lancashire, she’d have been unable to remain in Fearnoch House without him. She hadn’t climbed the tree house once since that first time, the night before he’d left. It was as if they had both of them left their hearts there. She busied herself, filling every waking moment with tasks, drawing up plans, and whenever she reached a low point, she called on Constance, who was very supportive. She rationed her pining for Alexander to this one wistful hour before dinner—or she tried to. There had been days when she had been angry with him for leaving, but it never lasted. The choice was stark: a real marriage and a new life, or a marriage of convenience and his old life, the only life he knew and the one he loved. She didn’t blame him for choosing the old one, even if she wished with all her heart he had not.

  But she would not allow herself to be miserable, to wallow in pity she didn’t deserve. She was fortunate. She was even happy, for some of the time, mostly content for the rest. Though she was never as happy as she’d been in her all-too-brief time with Alexander.

  The dull clang of the faulty doorbell reminded her to add its replacement to her list. It must be Constance, dropping off the transcription she had been working on from a diary Eloise had discovered in the muniment room, written by the first Countess of Fearnoch.

  ‘I’m afraid I can only offer you cold cuts for dinner,’ Eloise said over her shoulder as the door of her office opened, ‘if you want to join me.’

  ‘Cold cuts sounds like a veritable feast, compared to what I have been living off recently.’

  She leapt to her feet, whirling round at the sound of the familiar male voice, knocking over her chair in the process. ‘Alexander! Is that really you?’ Her mouth went dry. Her heart began to race as he entered the room. ‘What has happened? Why have you returned? Are you hurt?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m still in one piece, just weary from my long journey. Who were you expecting?’

  ‘Constance. Your mother. I wasn’t actually expecting her, but I—never mind that.’ She hurried over to him. He had not shaved. There were dark shadows under his eyes. His hair had grown long enough to touch his collar. ‘You look terrible!’

  He laughed, a sound she thought she’d never hear again. ‘Thank you very much. You, on the other hand, are a sight for sore eyes.’

  He held out his arms, but as she made to step into them he dropped them again, taking a step back. Trying to disguise her hurt, castigating herself for having been so foolish as to imagine anything had changed, Eloise retired to a chair by the fireside, indicating that he take the one opposite. ‘Is your mission completed?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking. My part in it is over, at any rate. I walked out, Eloise. I have come back to beg you for a second chance. I don’t deserve one, I haven’t forgotten that you told me you wouldn’t give me one, but I have to ask.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because I was wrong,’ Alexander said simply. ‘I am not married to my country, I’m married to you. I love my country, but I’m done with serving it, and I sure as hell don’t love it the way I love you.’

  Her heart leapt, but she forced herself to remain seated. ‘How do you know that? How can you be sure that you won’t change your mind?’

  ‘I thought you’d ask me that,’ he said, with a wry smile. ‘I could simply say that I know, here,’ he said, putting his hand over his heart. ‘And that’s true. I do know—once I admitted to myself—but that’s not enough. Do you remember telling me what it felt like to climb a tree?’

  ‘You were angry,’ Eloise said, taken aback by the change of subject. ‘The first time I did it, in London...’

  ‘I was horrified by the thought of you falling. I should have known then that I was falling in love with you.’

  ‘That’s why you built the tree house, to keep me safe.’

  ‘That’s one reason, but it’s not the main one. You told me, the first day we met, that climbing a tree was exciting. Dizzying. A little bit frightening. You told me that when you looked down, you always wondered what it would be like to let go. If you might fly.’

  ‘I said that?’

  ‘Your very own words. I built the tree house because I wanted you to feel all those things, but to be safe too. When I was away, I thought of you up there...’

  ‘I haven’t been able to go there.’

  ‘No?’ Alexander winced. ‘No, perhaps not. But I thought of you up there. And I thought of what you said, about looking down, through the branches, knowing that you’d crash to the ground if you jumped, but wondering, against all reason, if you might fly instead. And I thought, a leap of faith. That’s what love is.’

  He smiled at her. ‘I can’t promise that we won’t come crashing to the ground, but I can promise that I won’t regret making the leap, if you will jump with me. I love you so much, Eloise, more than I have words to tell you. I’m so sorry that I left you the way I did, but if I’d stayed...’

  ‘You’d never have known if you’d made the right choice.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, looking hugely relieved. ‘That is it. I wasn’t brave enough to take the chance...’

  ‘So you thought you’d risk life and limb for your country instead!’

  ‘I didn’t. Not this time. It took me two months away from you to realise I didn’t want to live without you, and for the last two weeks, as I made my way back to you, I’ve been consumed with fear that I’d be too late.’

  Alexander dropped to his knees beside her, taking her hands in his. ‘I love you so much. I have never known another life than the one I’ve lived for the last fourteen years. I have no idea what life holds for me now, or how I will adapt, or even how I feel now that I know that the Earl is my father, but I do know one thing—if I can live the rest of my life by your side, I’ll be happier than I could ever be without you. Will you be my wife, Eloise?’

  Her heart felt as if it might burst out of her chest. ‘I already am your wife.’

  ‘I mean my real, pro
per, true and very much loved wife. Will you?’

  ‘Yes.’ She smiled mistily at him. ‘Oh, yes, please.’

  ‘Thank the stars and the moon and all the planets!’

  He pulled her out of her chair and into his arms, covering her face with kisses, frantic kisses, as if he was afraid she would disappear, as if he wanted to make sure she was real. She smoothed her hands through his dishevelled hair, twining her arms around his neck, until the kisses became less frantic, and their lips met. This kiss was different, loving, all the sorrow and regret of the last few months melting away in a blaze of delight.

  ‘I love you,’ she murmured against his mouth.

  ‘I love you,’ Alexander replied, with such tenderness in his eyes that she could never doubt him.

  He fell back on to the hearth, taking her with him. His eyes darkened as their kisses deepened. She could feel his breath quickening. Their kisses lost their languor. She could feel his arousal pressing into her belly, feel an answering excitement inside her. She slid her hands under his coat. He wore no waistcoat. His shirt was roughly woven. She didn’t want to feel his shirt. She wanted to feel his skin against hers.

  ‘We can’t. Not here,’ Alexander said. ‘Not for our first time.’

  He kissed her again. His kisses gave his words the lie. ‘Yes, we can,’ she whispered. ‘Here. Now.’

  He groaned. ‘I want you so much.’

  Eloise, heady with love and with the confidence of being loved in return, chuckled. ‘Fortunately, I am all yours to do with as you will.’

  ‘That is an invitation I cannot resist.’ His eyes alight with laughter and desire, Alexander abandoned her briefly to lock the door, divesting himself of his clothes as he returned to her, kneeling down on the rug, pulling her back into his arms and kissing her. But when desire subsumed her, he slowed their kisses. ‘We have all the time in the world, my love.’

  He unfastened her gown, easing it down over her arms, kissing her neck, her throat, her breasts. She wriggled free of her gown, and there were more kisses as he unfastened her stays, and yet more as he pulled her chemise over her head, his mouth warm on her nipples, making them tighten, making her shiver with delight. He removed her slippers and untied her garters. He kissed her knees, her calves, her ankles as he removed her stockings. And then he untied her drawers and pulled them down, and she lay wide-eyed, brazenly naked and gazing up at him.

  The light of love and of desire in his eyes caused the knot of tension inside her to wind so tight she could scarcely breathe. He leaned over to kiss her again, his arousal brushing against her belly. When he kissed her again, working his way down her body, she moaned in frustration, and he laughed, and continued to kiss her, gently parting her legs, kissing her thighs, and then between her legs. She cried out in surprise, but he kissed her again, licking into her, and her gasp turned into a guttural moan as his mouth sent her tumbling over the edge and her climax ripped through her.

  Lost to everything except an overwhelming, primal need to have him inside her, Eloise tugged at his shoulders, muttering his name over and over. He kissed her deeply, their tongues touching, tangling. His skin was hot to touch. He entered her slowly, easing himself inside her, watching her, careful of hurting her, but there was no pain, only the most astonishingly delightful feeling of rightness, of her muscles closing around him, enfolding him. He kissed her again, his hands under her bottom to tilt her up, and then he began to move. She could not have imagined this. The frissons. The push and the pull. Her muscles. His hard length. The tension inside her building again. The tension etched on his face as his thrusts quickened, as she instinctively arched to take him higher. She moaned, learning a new rhythm, meeting his thrusts, tightening around him, clinging to the building of a new climax inside her until she could hold on no longer, crying out with abandon, feeling his answering moan, the pulse of his own climax, and their mouths met again, their bodies slick.

  Eloise smiled hazily into her husband’s eyes. ‘I had no idea that love could be so wonderful.’

  She felt the rumble of his laughter in his chest as he kissed her again. ‘I will let you into a secret, my darling,’ Alexander said. ‘I had no idea either.’

  ‘Really?’

  His expression softened. ‘Really wonderful.’ He kissed her tenderly. ‘And marvellous.’ He kissed her again. ‘And delightful.’

  She twined her arms around him, kissing him back. He kissed her again, more deeply, and she was astonished to feel a response stirring inside her. ‘Very delightful,’ she said. ‘In fact so delightful, Alexander, that I think I might like—unless, is it too soon?’

  He laughed. ‘It should be. But then again...’

  He pulled her on top of him. Her breasts brushed his chest. The soft fuzz of his hair made her nipples tingle. When their mouths met again, their kisses were hungry. She could feel him becoming aroused as they kissed, stirring, hardening. She could feel the answering response inside her becoming urgent, and just as she was beginning to wonder how they could, when surely they were facing the wrong way, he slid his hands under her bottom, easing her up, and it was the most perfectly natural, delightful feeling in the world as he slid inside her.

  She moved, a small experimental thrust, and Alexander moaned. Beguiled and aroused by the effect she was having, Eloise thrust again, and he bucked under her. She leaned over to kiss him, her hair brushing his chest, holding him inside her as their tongues touched, and then she moved again. He was watching her, intent, ardent, his eyes dark with passion, yet alight with love. She kissed him again, felt such a rush of love that she could no longer wait, tightening around him, abandoning herself to the need to take him with her, finding a new, urgent rhythm that drove them both to a tumultuous, simultaneous completion and left them panting, wrapped in one another’s arms, gazing into each other’s eyes in astonished delight.

  ‘I love you,’ Alexander said, kissing her again.

  A sated kiss. The best kiss of all, Eloise thought blissfully. And the first in a lifetime of such kisses.

  * * *

  Whilst you’re waiting for the next book in the Penniless Brides of Convenience miniseries why not check out Marguerite Kaye’s Matches Made in Scandal miniseries?

  From Governess to Countess

  From Courtesan to Convenient Wife

  His Rags-to-Riches Contessa

  A Scandalous Winter Wedding

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Unlaced by the Highland Duke by Lara Temple.

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  Historical Note

  In 1827 Frederick, Duke of York and heir to the throne, died. Frederick had no issue from his unhappy marriage. There were rumours that he had secretly married a second time, without the consent of the King—what is known as a morganatic marriage—some time around 1822.

  The Duke of Clarence—who became Lord High Admiral the same year—became heir to an ailing George IV following Frederick’s death. William wasn’t too keen on becoming King.

  All of this is historically accurate, but—as far as I know!—Alexander’s mission to try to find a lost heir who would spare William the crown is completely my own invention. As it turns out William was a good egg of a king—though it has to be said anyone would have been an improvement on his predecessor.

  Mad Jack Mytton—or Squire Mytton—was a notorious Regency character who gave his name to a real pub: the Jack Mytton Inn. His outrageous and eccentric behaviour discussed by Eloise and her sisters are genuine examples, and actually I don’t think I’ve done him justice. Think of a cross between Keith Moon and Oliver Reed! The bear, in case you’re wondering, was called Nell, and when he set fire to his nightshirt it did—not surprisingly!—cure his hiccups.

  Sadl
y, I didn’t invent the Earl of Fearnoch’s tradition of calling every male upper servant James and every female Margaret. It was a practice apparently common in some of the larger households, where the turnover of staff was high, and—presumably—the mental agility of those in charge correspondingly low. Annoyingly, I can’t actually remember where I read this, so if it does turn out that I made it up in a fevered dream I apologise wholeheartedly and beg you not to chastise me about it.

  I have absolutely no idea whether it was possible to have an entail which required the heir to marry by the time he was thirty. It seemed to me such a good idea for a story, and one which quickly became so fundamental to this story, that I decided not to check. If I’m wrong I will once again apologise in advance and ask to remain happily ignorant.

  Admiralty House is obviously a real place, though I doubt that it’s open to private diners—not even such high-flying private diners as Alexander and Eloise.

  The Vineyard Nursery, which gets a fleeting mention, is also real, and originally featured in a scene from my last book, A Scandalous Winter Wedding. It was a dreadful scene, which I deleted, but the research wasn’t wasted.

  And, talking of recycling things, if you’re an observant regular reader you’ll have spotted a few of my other characters making a reappearance. Lord Henry Armstrong—from The Armstrong Sisters series—is a man I keep coming back to lampoon. Madame LeClerc has been dressmaker to a number of my heroines. And, finally, Monsieur Salois the chef was actually a creation of Bronwyn Scott when we collaborated on the Brockmore books. It was her suggestion that I include him in this book as a culinary inspiration for Phoebe—thank you!

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Historical.

  You dream of wicked rakes, gorgeous Highlanders, muscled Viking warriors and rugged Wild West cowboys from another era. Harlequin Historical has them all! Emotionally intense stories set across many time periods.