An Unwilling Earl

by Sharon Cullen

  Smoothing the fabric of her dark blue gown, she looked at herself critically in the full-length mirror. The modiste had worried about finishing the gown in the week that Charlotte had given her, but she’d followed through, and the gown was much more to her liking than Cora’s remade gowns, not that she didn’t appreciate them. But this style was simpler, with no lace, sleeves to her elbows. The skirt was full and brocaded. The neckline was square and dipped far too close to the edge of her bosom. She was a little worried about her naked shoulders. She’d never been out in public showing so much skin, but Sarah and her mother told her it was all the style.

  Aunt Martha would be scandalized. Charlotte would have felt the switch on her backside, and she would have had to kneel by her bed for hours asking God’s forgiveness for wearing something so indecent.

  Indecent was the word Aunt Martha would have used.

  Charlotte thought it was very decent indeed. And beautiful.

  She studied her short hair, wishing with all of her might that she had her long hair back. But Mrs. Smith had curled it so that it bounced around her head, and a pink flower peeked out from behind her right ear.

  “Oh my,” Mrs. Smith had said. “This will be the new style. Mark my words. Girls will be begging to cut their hair like yours.”

  Charlotte had blushed at the extravagant compliment but didn’t believe a word of it.

  Some day she would have long hair again.

  Through the looking glass she watched Jacob enter, and she caught her breath. He was magnificent in black tails and a white tie. His shoes shined so that she could see the room’s reflection in them.

  He stopped short.

  “Well then.” He cleared his throat and looked her over from head to toe with a gleam of admiration in his eyes. “Well then,” he repeated.

  She was suddenly afraid that she didn’t look good enough to be on his arm. Maybe the dress was the wrong color, although Sarah had exclaimed over the richness of it.

  Jacob visibly swallowed. “You are a beautiful woman, Lady Ashland, but this is beyond beautiful. This is exquisite.”

  “Do you think so?” She plucked at her skirts nervously.

  “Oh, I know so. When Mrs. Smith said I would be shocked, she was understating it.” He opened his arms wide and shook his head. “I have no words.”

  “Thank you. You look amazing yourself.”

  “I wasn’t too sure about the style but was told it was appropriate.”

  “I think you did well.” There was an awkwardness between them, as if they were two different people. There were Charlotte and Jacob, and then there were Lord and Lady Ashland. They weren’t accustomed to playing the role of lord and lady.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box. Nestled inside was a stunning sapphire on a thick silver chain, and on each side of the necklace were teardrop sapphires for her ears.

  “Oh, Jacob.” She put a hand to her chest, not daring to touch them.

  “Mrs. Smith told me the color of your gown. I must say they’re almost an exact match.”

  “They’re gorgeous. But I can’t wear these. They’re fit for Queen Victoria, not a former street urchin.”

  “You are not a former street urchin. You are my wife, and you are Lady Ashland, and you deserve these and so much more.”

  Hesitantly she reached out a finger and touched one of the cold stones. “What if I lose one?”

  “I doubt you’ll lose one.” He put the box on her dressing table and lifted the necklace out. “Turn around.”

  She turned to face the mirror and watched as he lowered the necklace over her head. The large sapphire settled, cold and heavy, on top of her breasts. She could feel his breath on her neck, and goose bumps formed on her arms. He was intently studying the clasp, his fingers skimming her bare neck and making her shiver.

  Their gazes locked in the mirror, and a small smile tilted his lips. Without losing eye contact he lowered his head and put his lips where his fingers had touched, and she shivered again. Her body became heavy, and she instantly recognized the signs that she wanted him. He closed his eyes and moved his lips to kiss her again on the back of the neck. She closed her own eyes and leaned into him, tilting her neck as his kisses traveled over her trembling skin.

  He kissed her bare shoulder, running his hands up her arm, and he turned her around to face him. She looked up at him as he lowered his head and kissed the exact spot where her bosom disappeared into her gown.

  She was breathing heavy now and could see the rigid outline of his erection.

  “We should go,” he whispered.

  “We have a little time.”

  He grinned. “You’ll be the death of me.”

  She smiled and touched him outside of his trousers. He winced, but she knew now that meant that it felt good. She unbuttoned his trousers and pulled him out, cupping the full length of him in her hands, wrapping her fingers around him.

  “We’re all dressed,” he said on a groan.

  “We’ll get dressed again.”

  “Good God, woman.”

  He backed her against the wall and lifted her many voluminous skirts until the cool air hit her legs.

  “Put your legs around my hips,” he commanded, and she did as he said, excited to try something new.

  She was wet and ready for him, could already feel the pressure building inside of her.

  He fumbled between them and inserted a finger inside of her, making her gasp. Her back was to the wall, supporting her, and she wriggled on his touch. Then his touch was gone, and his manhood was pressing against her, looking for her entrance. She guided him there, and he seated himself inside of her.

  She leaned her head back against the wall and watched the various expressions rush across his face as he pumped into her.

  “It feels so good,” she said softly as she moved with him.

  He moved his hand to rub her. She cried out, and they moved faster until they both found their release, coming together in a violent kiss, and swallowing each other’s cries of pleasure.

  He pulled out, and she felt the warm, liquid essence of him drip down her inner thighs.

  Quickly he buttoned himself back up and grabbed a towel by the water pitcher and cleaned her up. She was boneless, leaning against the wall, her insides still quivering with her release.

  “Well, that was definitely a good start to our night,” she said as she lowered her skirts and fluffed them out.

  In the mirror she fixed her hair—no major disturbance there—and saw Jacob slide something in his pocket.

  “Surely you’re not taking the pistol to a ball,” she said.

  “Surely I am.”

  “But, Jacob. We’ll be at Lady Armbruster’s. We’ll be safe there.”

  Jacob looked at her with such a serious expression that she stilled. “O’Leary was just here. There was another body, this one left where she was killed. He didn’t even bother to push her into the Thames.”

  “What does that mean?” Her words seemed to get stuck in her throat, and she had to force them out. Would she ever be free of the shadow of her aunt and cousin? Would she ever be happy without thinking that something would come along to destroy that happiness?

  “O’Leary thinks Edmund—or rather, the killer—is getting sloppy. His superiors finally gave him authority to speak to the Morrises.”

  “Are we in danger?”

  “O’Leary says no. He does not think that Edmund is after you because he’s never threatened you in the past and you are not the type of woman he hunts.”

  She breathed a marginal sigh of relief, although she would never be reassured until Edmund was stopped.

  “And we can’t cancel on Lady Armbruster now. This ball is being held in our honor, after all.”

  “That is true.”

  He kissed her forehead. “We will go, and we won’t think of Edmund or Martha, and we will have a wonderful time. Are you ready?”

  She fluffed her skirts
one more time. For tonight she wouldn’t think about Aunt Martha or Cousin Edmund. Tonight she would attempt to enjoy herself.

  Chapter Thirty

  The ball was everything Charlotte had expected, and it was also everything unexpected.

  She met so many people that she wouldn’t possibly remember their names come morning, but rather than being standoffish and cold toward her, as she had expected them to be, they had been warm and welcoming. There were a few that were less than pleased that she was the new countess of Ashland, but she brushed off their displeasure and frowns.

  Sarah and her parents were there, and that helped Charlotte’s anxiety. Her uncle and his wife were there, too, and they made sure she was well received and well treated. Charlotte had no idea she had so many allies in English Society. For most of her life she had thought the sun rose and set on her parents’ tiny cottage in the country, and then, while living with her aunt, she had been told so many hateful, hurtful things about her parents that she began to think that there was no good left in this world.

  It turned out she had just been looking in the wrong place.

  Occasionally she would think of O’Leary and his mission tonight, but she chose to believe that finally Edmund would be caught and tomorrow she would wake up to a whole new life, devoid of worry concerning her aunt and cousin.

  Jacob had been swiftly taken away from her. For most of the night she had been on her own, but not alone. Armbruster’s mother introduced her to the “most important people.” And when she’d been called away, either her aunt or Sarah had been at her side.

  And now Charlotte and Jacob were in their hired coach, on their way home.

  “Tired?” Jacob asked, his own voice weary.

  “Very.” She snuggled into his side, and he put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer. A sigh of contentment escaped her. How had it become so easy for her to be so comfortable in her husband’s arms?

  “I can’t wait to fall into bed and sleep until at least tea time,” Jacob said, covering his own yawn. “What did you think of the ball?”

  “I didn’t find it all that bad,” Charlotte admitted. “I was prepared to hate it.”

  “I would agree. It’s definitely not something I want to do every night, but every now and then wouldn’t be too bad. I met some men who will be very helpful as I take the reins of the earldom. Did you meet anyone?”

  “I met so many people, but I couldn’t tell you their names. Lady Armbruster was very generous to host this ball for us.” Charlotte was having such a difficult time keeping her eyes open, and her brain was screaming to shut down and go to sleep.

  “Lady Armbruster thrives on hosting balls. It was generous, yes, but she enjoyed doing it.”

  “Hmmm.” Charlotte couldn’t keep her eyes open one moment longer, and she felt Jacob chuckle as he hugged her to him “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get home.”

  She felt him kiss the top of her head, and as she drifted away she smiled and thought she heard, “I love you, Charlotte.” But she was probably dreaming that.

  The next thing she knew he was gently shaking her awake.

  “We’re home. Time to get you to bed.”

  She muttered something and practically stumbled out of the carriage.

  “Go on up,” Jacob said. “I will pay the driver.”

  Charlotte glanced at the carriage. The driver was hunched over the hoof of one of the horses, inspecting the shoe.

  “Seems he might have thrown a shoe,” Jacob said.

  Charlotte wearily climbed the steps to the townhouse, suddenly sad that they were going to vacate it soon. The house in Hyde Park was ready for them to move in, and there wasn’t much besides Jacob’s law books and their clothes that they would take with them as the Hyde Park house was fully furnished.

  At first, Mrs. Smith had been flustered that they were moving, but Jacob had taken her to the new house and had shown her the kitchen she would be in charge of and her new set of rooms, and Mrs. Smith had suddenly been quite pleased.

  Charlotte opened the front door and trudged up the stairs toward Jacob’s bedchamber. The house was quiet. They had told Mrs. Smith not to wait up for them as they’d been unsure how late they would be.

  Her feet and back ached from standing all night, and her mouth was dry from so much talking. But all in all, she felt it had been a satisfactory evening, and many of the women had promised to call on her as soon as she was settled in her new home. She looked forward to accepting callers in Hyde Park.

  She entered the darkened bedchamber.

  The smell hit her first, and she frowned.

  It smelled earthy. Like a newly turned garden.

  She fumbled in the dark for the light and lit it. The dancing flame created shadows that jumped around the room, but otherwise nothing seemed disturbed. Maybe Mrs. Smith had left a window open, and she smelled the newly turned earth of the back garden. With a sigh, Charlotte kicked off her shoes and pulled the wilting flower from her hair, twisting it between her fingers as she glanced at the bed and froze.

  There was an odd lump of something black and glistening. She approached slowly, dropping the flower as she pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming. It was a cat.

  A dead cat.

  Its throat cut and blood oozing from it, soaking into the bed.

  She turned around to run out of the room as a tall shape emerged from the corner, and suddenly Edmund was standing before her.

  “What are you doing here?” But she knew. They’d been so stupid, believing that they could stop Edmund.

  “She wouldn’t stop talking.” He held a knife in his hand, the metal gleaming in the candlelight.

  Charlotte frowned? “She?” Was he referring to the cat? No, that didn’t make sense.

  “Mother. She wouldn’t stop talking. On and on she went about you. That’s all she talked about was you. Charlotte this and Charlotte that.” His voice rose to imitate the pitch of a woman.

  Charlotte swallowed. “She’s a horrible woman, Edmund. She’s not nice at all.”

  “Don’t say that about my mother.”

  She took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

  He took a step forward.

  “She’s dead now.”

  Charlotte’s blood ran cold, and her head swam. No. No, no, no, no.

  “What did you do?” she whispered.

  “I killed her.”

  “Edmund…” Her tongue was suddenly stuck to the roof of her mouth, and fear immobilized her. Jacob. She needed to get to Jacob. She needed to warn Jacob.

  But Edmund was in her way, and she couldn’t get past him.

  “You’re right. She wasn’t nice,” he said. “She was horrid.”

  “Yes, she was.” Charlotte grabbed onto that like the lifeline it was. “We can tell the police. I can go with you and tell them what a horrible person she was. She deserved to die. She was mean to you.”

  What had happened when O’Leary and his men arrived at the house? Had Edmund panicked and killed Aunt Martha? But he said she wouldn’t stop talking. Had he killed her before they even got there?

  “She was mean. She called me names all the time.”

  This was the longest conversation Charlotte had ever had with Edmund, and she felt like she was talking to a child. It was as if he were in a trance, and his eyes were blank, like they’d been the day he’d destroyed her doll.

  “I can help you,” she said softly.

  He seemed to think about that. “No. You must die, too.”

  Fear battered her rib cage, and she could barely breathe. “Please, Edmund. We can find a way out of this.”

  He was shaking his head as he moved toward her. Charlotte backed up, farther away from the door. He was going to back her into a corner if she didn’t do something.

  Where is Jacob?

  Where was Mrs. Smith? Edmund better not have hurt her.

  With a wild scream, hoping to alert Jacob, Charlotte charged toward Edm
und, lifting her skirts as she ran.

  For a moment he stared at her with that blank look, and she tried to veer to the left side of him, away from the hand holding the knife. But he caught her, raised the knife, and plunged it toward her.

  …

  “Threw a shoe,” the hansom cab driver said when Jacob approached.

  “Do you need help?” Jacob didn’t know the first thing about shoeing a horse, but he thought he should at least offer his assistance.

  “Nah.” The driver straightened and brushed his hands on his trousers.

  “Well, thank you for the ride.” Jacob handed him a few coins more than the cab fare to hopefully offset the cost of a new shoe.

  The man nodded and tipped his cap to him. “My thanks, m’lord.” He jumped up into the box, and the carriage rumbled down the quiet street.

  Jacob tiredly pulled himself up the steps to the front door. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, tug Charlotte close, and fall asleep. The ball had been more exhausting than he’d thought, but he was pleased with the results. He’d met some important men. Men who would be good allies as he navigated the waters of this earldom. And it pleased him immensely that Charlotte had made friends, thanks to Lady Armbruster and Lady Chadley.

  As time went on, he was becoming more and more accustomed to his new station in life. With his solicitor’s background and his new title, maybe he could make some real changes in this world. Maybe he could help clean up the rookeries or create more desirable jobs and opportunities for those who felt hopeless.

  The possibilities were endless, and he looked forward to working with Charlotte to see his ideas become reality.

  The thought of creating a new life with Charlotte, one he’d never envisioned a month ago, gave him a sense of worth and accomplishment like he’d never felt before. He’d loved his career as a solicitor, but he was beginning to realize that maybe his life was meant for more than that and he should embrace the change, instead of fighting it.

  “Ashland!”

  Jacob turned to find O’Leary jogging toward him, breathless, disheveled.

  “She’s dead,” O’Leary said, stopping before him.

  “Who’s dead?”

  “Lady Morris. He killed her, and he’s missing. We can’t find Edmund. We’ve been looking all night. I sent a man here to watch your house.” Both O’Leary and Jacob looked around but didn’t see anyone else.