“I’m sorry, Miss Milne. I spoke before I thought.”
“A problem since his birth,” Drew growled.
“No doubt a recurring problem for both of you,” Char snapped, “given that your parents instilled in all of you since your births that you’re better than everyone else.” Char’s coachman jerked as she tapped him on the shoulder. He whipped his head up, his cheeks flaming red, his eyes darting everywhere but on them. “Let us get out, Mr. Perkins, and leave these two to their plotting.”
“I’m not plotting,” Drew said helplessly, clambering down the ladder after Char. She was halfway to the entrance of the inn before he caught up. “Char.” He grabbed her arm to stop her brisk exodus from his presence. “Are you going to stay mad at me all night for something I didn’t even say?”
“No.” She yanked her arm free. “I’m mad because I know you share in your cousin’s belief that you are better than me, deserve more than me, simply because you were highborn.”
“I do not share Edgeworth’s beliefs.”
“Ha!” She whirled away and almost ran into her gaping coachman. “Excuse me, Mr. Perkins.”
Drew stomped up the stairs after her and reached for her arm once again. His fingers grazed the material of her dress. Whirling around, she served him a severe glare. “You’re touching me! Can you not keep even one promise you make?”
He swallowed and dropped his hand, fully expecting her to take flight.
She surprised him by not moving. They stared at each other, breaths coming out in puffs of white into the darkness while snowflakes fell between them. The stairs creaked as Mr. Perkins crept as far away as possible without actually leaving Char alone. Drew immediately changed his opinion of the man. He liked anyone who had the decency to give him some leeway but refused to abandon his first loyalty to his mistress.
Watching the white flakes fall on Char’s pale skin made it almost painful for Drew not to touch her. The desire pulsed from his heart all the way to the tips of his fingers. He’d keep his bloody promise though―even if it killed him. “Please, Char. Hold my past sins against me all you want, but don’t hold me accountable for things I no longer believe.”
She licked her lips, her tongue melting a snowflake that had landed on her upper lip. “That’s fair.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Give me a chance to show you I’ve changed.”
“No.”
Her answer was so final, so definite. Yet he couldn’t help but hope. He knew her. It wasn’t in her nature not to give someone a second chance. “I have changed,” he persisted. “You’ll see.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to see. If you think you can’t keep your promise, I’ll find another coach to take me to Danby tomorrow.”
Before Drew could reply, heavy footsteps clomped up the stairs behind him and a hand slapped him smartly on the back. “I hate to interrupt you two, but it’s bloody cold out here.”
Charlotte narrowed her eyes at Edgeworth. “You’re not interrupting anything, Lord Edgeworth.”
“Miss Milne, clearly you are an expert at staying angry.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Charlotte hedged.
“Excellent. A crack in your ferociously righteous armor.”
“Edgeworth,” Drew warned. Why was his cousin purposely trying to get under Charlotte’s skin?
“Righteous?” Charlotte sputtered.
Edgeworth shrugged. “A bit. Though, while I do admit I deserve your anger, my cousin does not.”
Drew’s irritation with Edgeworth’s earlier blunder vanished.
“Fine. He’s forgiven for your earlier comments. Now can we go in before we all freeze to death?”
Edgeworth swept his hand in front of him. “After you, my lady.”
Charlotte walked ahead as Drew and Edgeworth walked side by side. Drew nudged his cousin in the arm. Thank you, he mouthed.
As Charlotte stepped through the door into the bustling inn, Edgeworth leaned towards Drew. “I heartily approve of Miss Milne. Don’t mess this up.”
“I don’t intend to,” Drew replied.
“Good. And, Drew…”
“Yes?”
Edgeworth gave Drew a cheeky grin. “When you’re dirt poor, you may still call me cousin.”
“How charitable of you,” Drew said with a chuckle and the firm realization that the prospect of being poor did not scare him at all.
After a hot meal―where she insisted Lord Edgeworth sit between her and Drew―and a freezing cold sponge bath, Charlotte crawled into her bed and pulled the covers up to the tip of her chin. Even dressed in her thickest winter bed-gown and snuggled under the heavy coverlet, her teeth still chattered from the cold. The room held a definite chill, but at least she had a place to lay her head.
A reluctant smile pulled at her lips. She could still see Lord Edgeworth’s astonished face when Drew had refused to tell the innkeeper they were the Duke of Danby’s grandchildren and had threatened Lord Edgeworth with bodily harm if he did so. She had to admit that she had also been astonished that Drew had kept his promise. Especially since Drew’s denial of his rightful title meant he and Lord Edgeworth received no special treatment and therefore no bed.
Charlotte turned over and fluffed her pillow. The small tingle of satisfaction she had experienced earlier when she realized that Drew would spend his night sitting in a cold, drafty tap room without even a blanket or pillow had disappeared. When the innkeeper had told them there were no spare blankets or pillows to be had, Charlotte had gleefully given all the blankets in the carriage to Perkins and Lord Edgeworth’s coachman to use. A petty sense of vengeance had spurred her to do it. Now, though…She groaned at the guilt setting in. In the quiet darkness of her room with her anger ebbed, she felt churlish and mean to deny Drew and Lord Edgeworth the most basic comforts. She fingered the soft, fuzzy blanket next to her body.
Decision made, she sighed, threw back the covers and rolled off the bed. After exchanging her robe for her travelling gown, she shoved her feet into her slippers, grabbed the extra pillow on her bed and pulled on the top coverlet until it released. She rolled the coverlet around her arm to make carrying it easier. But the softest blanket she would keep for herself.
Though she had tried to forget Drew’s claim that he was now more than willing to give up everything for her, it lingered in her head as she padded down the hall towards the stairs. She would probably find him downstairs, miserable and cold, and bandying his title about in order to now attain a room. She hoped she would find him thus. Then she would know for certain he was still exactly the same person he had been and not some new Drew, a reliable Drew, a Drew who would give up everything for her just as she would have given up everything for him. Perhaps she wouldn’t find him at all because he was already ensconced in the best room under the warmest blanket. That was the most likely scenario.
“Silly fool!” she muttered as she entered the common room. Quickly scanning the faces, she spotted Lord Edgeworth at a table with a serving wench sitting on his lap and a mug of ale raised to his lips. The woman pressed her lips to Lord Edgeworth’s neck, and his hand slid discreetly underneath her apron. Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat as memories of Drew’s lips and hands on her flaming body flooded through her.
Determined to quickly find Drew, give him the blanket and pillow and make haste back to the safety of her room, she weaved through two families sprawled near the fireplace and made her way around the outskirts of the tables where several people sat drinking and conversing, but she didn’t see Drew.
She turned to make her way back towards Lord Edgeworth, but Drew’s cousin appeared ready to quit the room, and it seemed he had found a morsel to take with him. He had the serving girl’s hand clasped in his. A heaviness settled in Charlotte’s chest. Had Drew also found a willing woman to welcome him into her bed? Propelled by dreadful curiosity, Charlotte flew across the room as Lord Edgeworth made his way towards the stairs. Huffing, she reached him just as his hand touche
d the stairwell banister.
“Lord Edgeworth.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Miss Milne, what are you doing down here? Is something wrong?”
“I—” She shifted from foot to foot, suddenly extremely embarrassed to ask where Drew was. She shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t want to know. Her fingers curled tightly around the blanket and pillow in her arms. It hadn’t been two days since she’d encountered Drew, and already she felt like the foolish girl who had given her heart and innocence so willingly to him, only to have her heart crushed underneath his expensive boot. No doubt Drew didn’t need or want her pitiful offering of a blanket and pillow.
She shook her head, her throat clogging with tears. “Nothing’s wrong. I—” She cleared the tremor out of her throat and shoved the blanket and pillow towards Lord Edgeworth. “I thought you might have need of these.”
Before he could respond, she released the blankets and pushed past him, determined to reach the privacy of her room before the tears came. She ascended three stairs before a hand gripped her arm. “Miss Milne?”
She swiped her hand across her moist eyes before facing Lord Edgeworth. “Yes?”
Lord Edgeworth extended the blanket and pillow towards her. “I’ve no need of this kindness.” Lord Edgeworth’s gaze went to the woman beside him but quickly came back to Charlotte’s face. “I’m sure Drew would appreciate it, though.”
Charlotte gulped as hope filled her. “Drew’s not—I meant to say he hasn’t—?” Heat flooded her face, and her gaze settled on Lord Edgeworth’s rather irritated looking companion before Charlotte quickly averted it back to Drew’s cousin.
A small smile lit his face, and he shook his head. “No, Drew’s alone in the taproom.”
“He is?” Charlotte couldn’t keep the burst of happiness that filled her out of her voice.
Lord Edgeworth nodded. “He said he wanted to be alone to think. Do you know what I believe, Miss Milne?”
“What?” she asked, before she could think better of it.
“You should go to him. You do not seem the type of person to believe no one can ever change.”
Normally she wasn’t, except that’s exactly how she was being with Drew. She caught Lord Edgeworth surreptitiously studying her as she pondered what to do. She could go and give Drew a pillow and blanket. Certainly, that didn’t mean she’d fall on her back and allow him to seduce her again.
“Pondering my suggestion, Miss Milne?”
She nodded.
“Scat.” Lord Edgeworth actually waved her away. “It’s not as if Drew is going to ravish you in the taproom, and I feel certain you can scream quite loudly when needed.”
There was something in Lord Edgeworth’s eyes she had never seen before, or maybe she had simply never bothered to notice. Perhaps she had been a bit of a snob too. Assuming all lords were the same. “And who would come to the rescue of an actress against a lord? Not that Drew would ever force himself on me. I don’t mean to imply that.”
Lord Edgeworth stepped onto the stair directly below her and motioned her forward. She leaned down until their heads were side by side. “I would come to your rescue, Miss Milne. You may always count on me.”
Charlotte pulled back just a bit and met his gaze. “As a friend?” She did not assume he wanted more. She prayed he didn’t, but in her experience men only offered to help a woman when they wanted something in return―something of the intimate variety.
“Nothing more. Not even if you begged me. Drew loves you, you know.”
That little spark of hope she had thought she’d successfully stamped out flared within her chest once again. She refused to allow hope where she knew none existed. Drew may love her, but not enough to give up his money. He’d proven that. His words now meant nothing. Deciding that ignoring Lord Edgeworth’s comment was her best recourse, she said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re a romantic.”
“Ah, you think you know me?”
Charlotte studied Lord Edgeworth. She knew he never took the same lady anywhere twice. She knew that when they had been younger he had followed the groomsman’s daughter, Katherine, around like a puppy dog, but then the girl had surprised everyone by becoming betrothed to the decrepit Duke of Vischase. That betrothal had made Charlotte stupidly believe she too could cross over the class boundary that divided her from the ton.
“I don’t know you,” Charlotte finally said. And she didn’t, not really. She’d judged him a rake and dismissed him. Perhaps Lord Edgeworth had been in love with Katherine. A memory filled Charlotte’s mind of seeing Katherine and he sitting close together in Lord Danby’s moonlit garden. Charlotte had completely forgotten that.
She reached out and squeezed Lord Edgeworth’s hand. “Thank you for your offer of friendship. I gladly accept it.”
“Good luck, Miss Milne. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She nodded, moved past Drew’s cousin and his now glowering companion, and hurried down the stairs, through the common room, and down a short hall that led to the taproom.
True to Lord Edgeworth’s word, Drew sat at a table by himself, his only company the roaring fire that crackled in the quiet room. His back was to her, but she immediately recognized him with his sinfully thick, blond hair. Her fingers twitched in memory of just how silky those curls felt when she grasped him to pull him closer.
A fierce desire to brush the curls off his neck and kiss the sensitive spot near his ear soared through her. She tried to will her desire away, but as she studied him, her desire only grew stronger. His shoulders curled forward, his neck lowered as he obviously studied something before him. Drew in deep concentration was a sight an artist would long to paint. She pictured his eyes―as they had always looked when his mind was occupied― light blue turned to dark and his lids would slant just a touch. She bet he had one long, slender hand propped against his right cheekbone.
Besieged with curiosity, she tiptoed towards him, scarcely daring to breathe lest he be alerted to her presence. She should alert him. That was the right and proper thing to do, but every instinct she possessed told her whatever he was concentrating on was important.
For better or worse, she wanted to see what held him captivated. Before she’d allowed Drew to bed her, her instincts had never failed her, and since she had fled her home for London and joined the theatre, all her instincts had been correct. She embraced her intuition to keep her presence unknown and moved silently until she stood behind him.
Looking over his shoulder, she peered down at the scroll he was writing on, but she couldn’t see a thing. She squinted, trying to make out the words. Drew sat up abruptly and faced her.
Yelping, she jumped back. His blue eyes bore into her, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You’re very quiet, but your scent gave you away the minute you came close.”
Her heart fluttered being so near to him. His shirt collar hung open, allowing her to glimpse the top of his chest and the dusting of golden hair that covered his skin. She knew―memory by singed memory―what lay lower. Shoulders thick with corded muscles, a stomach chiseled by ripples, long, muscular thighs that would trap her between his legs and hold her captive until she was spent. She swallowed against a wave of desire that left her dizzy.
Drew laughed knowingly. “Care to sit?”
She nodded. If she didn’t sit she might swoon from the need pulsing from her belly all the way to her core. “What are you doing?” she asked as she took the seat opposite of him.
“Making a list.” His gaze held hers, unblinking and unrelenting.
“Of what?”
Drew slid the paper towards her.
Setting the pillow and blanket on the chair beside her, she glanced down, her breath catching. Her hand shook as she brought the paper towards her, but she managed to control her nerves enough to pick up the parchment and make sure she had seen the words correctly. “This appears to be a list of occupations.” She did not want to assume, though it did seem forthright.
�
�You always have been clever, Char.”
Good God. Drew had actually been sitting here making a list of occupations well below an earl’s expectations.
“Is this for you?”
“Surprised?”
That was putting it rather mildly. Dare she believe what her mind suggested? Fear made her mouth dry. She licked her lips. “Earls do not work.”
He nodded. “Precisely.”
Her mind raced through the facts. Drew had not known she would come down here to give him a pillow and blanket. He had thought her in bed, and no doubt he had assumed he would not see her until the morning. This could be no ruse―no game.
He had been serious earlier. He had actually been serious. Her heart hammered in her ears. The pounding blocked all other sound but the noise of her emotions that released, welled and broke through the careful barrier she had put them behind.
Tears flowed freely down her face. She blinked them away, then looked at the man she loved, had never stopped loving. “You really meant what you said earlier tonight?”
Drew nodded, his gaze burning bright. He reached over and stopped just short of grabbing her hands. “I love you. I want to marry you, and I’ll gladly give up everything down to my trousers to get you back.”
Charlotte sniffed. “Not your trousers, darling. People would be scandalized.”
“Who cares?” Drew stared at her intently.
She knew what he wanted. Or she thought she did. That was the problem. She could not know for sure. Without certainty could she risk it all once again for love? What was the other choice―risk nothing and attain nothing? She glanced at the paper and chose the first occupation Drew had listed. “Surely a solicitor can afford trousers?”
Drew smiled ruefully. “I might be aiming too high for a position as a solicitor. I’m not terribly good with following rules or getting others to follow them. I might end up a coachman.”
Her heart ached with his words. She loved him, and she did not think she would ever love another as she loved Drew. She had to risk her heart once again. “That’s all right, darling.” She smiled at Drew, tears of joy filling her eyes. “I’m a terribly famous actress, and I need another good coachman.”
The Redemption of a Dissolute Earl Page 6
