Loving the Earl: A Loveswept Historical Romance

by Cullen, Sharon

  Claire despised them.

  She’d sewn most of the jewels into the hem of one of her gowns.

  “I still have a few pounds left. That will tide me over until I can contact a friend.”

  “What friend?”

  Claire’s back teeth came together. She’d had just about enough of this man. “Lord Blythe—”

  “Nathan.”

  She swallowed her rising anger. “Lord Blythe. My business is not your concern. As soon as we reach Paris, we will part ways and you need no longer concern yourself with me.”

  “Lady Chesterman. The moment I came upon your carriage under attack—”

  “We were hardly under attack.”

  “So what would you call it? Friends coming for tea? A stop along the way to pick up more passengers? Those men weren’t there to talk about the weather. They were there to rob you of your money and possibly other things as well.”

  “They didn’t succeed because I brought them down.” Well, one of them at least, and she was still proud of that.

  “You were lucky.”

  Oooh, he infuriated her.

  He took another sip from his flask. When he saw her eyeing it, he held it out to her. “Would you care for some?”

  She sniffed and turned her head away. “No, thank you. I don’t imbibe.” She tried to infuse as much disdain into her voice as possible, but either he didn’t hear it or it didn’t bother him for he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and laid his head back, closing his eyes.

  His massive chest rose and fell evenly, deeply. His face was tanned by the sun, his cheeks expertly sculpted. His ruffled hair lent him a boyish air, but that was as far as the boyish appearance went.

  Automatically her gaze went to his hands folded across his stomach. They were just as large as the rest of him, the knuckles big.

  He shifted, making her jump.

  “Stop doing that,” he snapped.

  “Stop doing what?”

  “Acting as if I’m going to strike you.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are. I’ve behaved myself and stayed in my corner of the coach for hours now. You can rest assured I have no intention of touching you.”

  She didn’t know whether to be offended or relieved. Was there something wrong with her that he wanted nothing to do with her?

  Oh, Claire, don’t be such a ninny.

  Her gaze flew to his face where his eyes were cracked open so he could see her from beneath his half-closed lids.

  “Aren’t you uncomfortable squashed in the corner like that?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  He was so still she would have thought he’d gone back to sleep, if it weren’t for the glitter of his eyes looking out from beneath his lids. His stare made her want to squirm but she held back, keeping as still as he. His jaw muscle worked but he remained silent.

  The coach continued on, growing more and more stifling. It was as if he sucked the air from the conveyance. She fanned herself with her hand again. At some point she’d had a fan but must have lost it in the scuffle with the thief.

  “Why are you traveling to Paris?” she asked, out of curiosity and a need to break the silence he seemed all too comfortable with.

  He took another drink from his flask and she frowned. His lips twitched, as if he knew how uncomfortable his drinking made her.

  “Business meeting.”

  She pulled her gaze from the silver flask. “That’s an awfully long way to go for one business meeting.”

  “It’s an important one. Are you sure you don’t want a swallow? You have to be parched.” He held the flask out to her.

  She wrinkled her nose. “No, thank you.”

  He shrugged and took another swallow then sighed. “What’s so important in Paris that you’re willing to travel there alone?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? You’re traveling with no chaperone and no money for no reason?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just said there’s nothing important in Paris.”

  Those eyes that revealed the drunken revelries he’d partaken in the night before suddenly seemed very clear and very interested.

  “Ah, then there is a reason.”

  Claire shifted. Her legs were cramping and her bum was beginning to ache from all the jostling. “There’s always a reason. Isn’t there, my lord?”

  He tilted his head and stared at her for quite some time. “Yes, my lady. There is.”

  So what was his reason? What important business meeting took him away from his gambling and drinking? Although from his appearance she had to surmise that he didn’t leave his gambling and drinking in England.

  “Few people do things for no reason,” he said. “So what is yours?”

  “My reason is my own, as yours is your own. I promise not to pry into yours if you promise not to pry into mine.”

  He smiled and the action suspended Claire’s breath. Beneath the stubble and despite the red-rimmed eyes and mussed hair, that smile lit his face and made him look like a completely different person. Not to mention completely handsome.

  “I promise no such thing. Sometimes my curiosity gets the best of me.”

  His tone was playful, irreverent. Claire found she liked it. She imagined this was a side of Nathan Ferguson few saw.

  His smile slowly faded. He took another swig from the flask and just like that the image was gone, replaced with the cynical, weary man she was becoming accustomed to seeing.

  Nathan was getting twitchy and checking his pocket watch every five minutes. They were close to Jean Gaudet’s home but not close enough. At first he did not know what to do with Claire, and it quickly became obvious he had to stash her somewhere if he was to make his meeting on time. He considered bringing her with him but had no idea what he was walking into and he didn’t want Claire to come to any harm. Addison would have his arse if that happened. He could leave her at an inn but would have no reassurance that she would actually stay there and wait for him.

  But Nathan had a friend, and if he remembered correctly, Jean Gaudet had a sister about the same age as Claire. Surely Claire would be safe there for a little while. Until Nathan finished his meeting and found somewhere better for her to stay.

  Except it was taking forever to get to Gaudet’s house and if they didn’t hurry, Nathan would miss his meeting.

  He glanced at Claire who was sitting forward, her face animated as she took in the sights of Paris—although since the sun had gone down there wasn’t much to see. Cobblestone streets dotted with standing water from a recent rain. Periodic streetlamps reflecting small pools of light. Buildings constructed so closely together that they seemed like one long building, until one ventured across the Seine and into Faubourg Saint-Germain where the wealthiest of the wealthy resided. Once considered the country, it was now amazingly close to the central part of the city and where Jean Gaudet lived.

  The city abruptly dropped from view as the carriage turned into a long drive. Almost immediately it felt as if they entered the country. Claire fell back into her seat with a sigh.

  She was nothing like the women he usually sought out. Lady Chesterman was … Fresh was the only word that came to mind.

  Her husband, Lord Chesterman, had been a shining star in the king’s court. Very well liked. Nathan had never met the chap—he didn’t swim in those circles and Chesterman had never entered his gaming hell—but he’d heard about him. Anyone who followed even the smallest bit of politics had heard of Richard Hartford, Lord Chesterman.

  His sudden death, after being thrown from a horse, had stunned everyone. Even the king himself had attended the funeral. Nathan had never heard anything about Chesterman’s wife. Of course he wasn’t one to listen to gossip, having been on the wrong end of it too many times to count. Now he wished he had listened.

  Why did she look like a child newly introduced to a candy store? As Chesterman’s wife she’d be well traveled, Nathan would have thought, yet his experience w
ith her on the ship and now traveling through France told him otherwise.

  What brought her to Paris? Why was it imperative that she get here even without a chaperone? Damn it, he should have paid more attention to Sebastian that morning. Then again, Sebastian had asked him only to make sure she arrived safely in Calais. And he’d done that.

  She seemed determined to keep her secrets to herself, and he was just as determined to unearth them. Except she’d remained quiet after their conversation and that frustrated him.

  He’d enjoyed their repartee, not having had such a stimulating conversation in a long while. The men he gambled with talked very little, and if they did it was always about the card game. And the women? Well, suffice it to say their conversation was stimulating in an entirely different way.

  The coach slowed and stopped in front of an immense house that would have put any English duke to shame. The two-story monstrosity of cream brick stretched for two blocks, the steps leading to the front door fanning out before them. The multipaned windows were all aglow, proving that Jean Gaudet was still awake—something Nathan never doubted.

  Claire looked at it, then at Nathan, her brows arched. “This is where we’re staying?”

  He didn’t wait for the coachman to open the door, but leaned across Claire to open it himself. He ignored the fact that she flinched as his arm brushed hers.

  “This is where you’re staying while I attend my meeting.”

  “Pardon?”

  He jumped down and lowered the step himself, then held his hand out to her. She didn’t move, just looked at him with those big, green eyes as if he’d betrayed her in some way.

  “What do you mean this is where I’m staying?”

  Nathan blew out an aggravated breath. “You said you had friends you can contact, but I don’t have time to find them at the moment and I don’t trust you to remain at an inn while I conduct my business. The Marquis de Marchant is a friend of mine. You’ll be perfectly safe here.”

  She looked from the house to him then back, biting the corner of her lips. Something she tended to do when she was nervous. Or hiding something. Why did he think this time it was the latter?

  “Why can’t I go to your meeting with you?”

  “Because it might not be safe.” He didn’t have time to clarify nor did he want to. He waved his hand to her, encouraging her to take it. “Come, Claire.”

  Reluctantly she descended, placing her hand delicately in his, then releasing it as soon as her feet touched the ground. She shook out her skirts and squared her shoulders as if she was walking into a ball hosted by King George himself.

  As she followed him up the steps, light spilled from every window and voices floated on the still night air. Trepidation dogged Nathan’s steps. He hadn’t had time to send word to Gaudet that they were arriving, and it appeared they were arriving in the middle of a ball. Or some other type of entertainment.

  Bloody hell, please let it be a ball.

  Nathan didn’t tell Claire that he met Gaudet in a London gaming hell during his early days of gambling. Their love of the game had cemented a long friendship.

  The door opened before Nathan could knock, and the butler ushered them in without a word.

  “Lord Blythe to see the Marquis de Marchant,” Nathan said.

  The butler nodded then pointed in the direction where most of the voices were coming from.

  Claire shot Nathan a look. Obviously this was highly irregular behavior for a butler who would normally guard the doors to the keep. Nathan smiled at Claire and headed in the direction that the man pointed, even though what he wanted to do was to push her back into the coach and turn it around. There was no hope for that, however. This was the path he chose and he couldn’t back out now. Not when he had an appointment to keep.

  As they walked across the parquet floors, Nathan valiantly tried to ignore the statues of naked men and women. Some alone, others cavorting in ways he was certain the artist never intended. A grand, sweeping staircase rose majestically to their left but they passed it. When they entered the library, all his fears came to light. He forced himself not to turn around, block Claire with his body and hustle her out.

  “Blythe, what the devil brings you to Paris, eh?”

  Nathan pasted on a smile and turned to his friend, trying like hell to ignore the other people in the room.

  Claire edged in behind him, so close that he could feel her body heat and her disapproval. A quick glance told him she was taking it all in, her eyes wide, her lips parted in disbelief.

  If Sebastian knew about this, he’d have Nathan’s head.

  “Gaudet.” Nathan accepted his friend’s fist pounding on his shoulder, while Gaudet’s eyes went to Claire.

  “What have we here? You brought your own entertainment?”

  Claire’s hand found his and she squeezed with enough force to grind his fingers together.

  “No, no,” Nathan responded quickly. “She is a friend. Her holiday was ruined due to ruffians on the road and I have assumed responsibility for her.” He spoke in French, which he was certain Claire didn’t know very well.

  Her hand tightened even more on his. He tried to pull away but her grip was too much. To struggle would bring attention to her even though Gaudet’s gaze kept flickering over Nathan’s shoulder.

  “I have a business meeting within the hour and I need somewhere safe for her to stay.”

  Gaudet’s gaze jumped to Nathan. “Safe, eh? I can’t say this is the safest place for a young woman.” Gaudet laughed good-naturedly but Nathan didn’t join in.

  “She is under my protection, my friend. I’m merely asking for a room for her to stay in while I conduct some business. Surely your sister can harbor her for a few hours.”

  Gaudet held his hands up. “Relax, vieil ami. My sister is in the country, but your friend is more than welcome and will be well protected.”

  Nathan cursed silently. Of course Gaudet wouldn’t entertain such people if his sister were in residence, but what else was there to do? “Merci. I will see her settled then leave.”

  Gaudet tilted his head in acknowledgment and signaled a nearby footman. Claire emerged from behind Nathan’s back. Her wide eyes took in the half-naked ladies of the night roaming the rooms, sitting on gentlemen’s laps, serving drinks, laughing and performing such erotic things that Nathan abruptly turned her around and hustled her out of the library while she craned her neck to look behind her.

  “What are they doing in there? What is this all about?”

  He shut the door firmly behind him. “Gaudet has agreed to allow you to stay here while I conduct my business. As soon as I’m finished, I’ll return for you, then we can decide where you should go.”

  “Here? But, Nathan …”

  He followed the footman up the stairs, praying the party hadn’t already progressed to the upper rooms. Bloody hell, he should have realized Gaudet would be entertaining. He didn’t know the man not to entertain. Unlike Nathan, Gaudet never worried about money because he came from a long line of marquises. His blood was so blue it was almost purple. In fact, Nathan remembered hearing something about royalty in Gaudet’s background.

  The footman led them to a richly appointed suite of rooms, then disappeared quietly and, like the butler, without a word.

  “I will return shortly,” Nathan said.

  Claire grabbed the sleeve of his coat, stopping him from walking out. “You can’t just leave me here.”

  He resisted the urge to look at his pocket watch. He didn’t need to know the time because he knew it was running out.

  “Gaudet has given his word that you are well protected. No one will bother you if you stay in these rooms.”

  “But those people down there … Those women …”

  “Trust me, Claire. You will be fine. Just stay in these rooms and I will return shortly.”

  “How shortly?” She searched his face, her expression mistrustful and fearful. What the hell was he doing leaving her like this?

/>   “Shortly.” He tried to pry loose his sleeve but her fingers dug in.

  “If you leave me here, I will escape.”

  He wrenched his arm away and grabbed her upper arms, anger roiling with fear. If she made her way downstairs and Gaudet was otherwise occupied, all manner of things could happen to her.

  “You are impetuous and altogether too trusting, my lady. Don’t add foolish to that list.”

  She stepped back, a pinched look coming over her features. “How dare you?”

  “I dare because it’s up to me to keep you safe.”

  She made a sound of derision. “You men. You’re all the same. All you care about is yourself and your stupid sense of responsibility. I never asked for your protection.”

  He drew back, his anger spilling over. “If I cared only about myself I wouldn’t have stopped to help when your coach was attacked. If I cared only about myself I wouldn’t be standing here, arguing with you, making myself late for an important meeting.” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from telling her that her brother had asked for his help in regards to her protection. Sebastian told him to keep that information to himself. Guilt niggled at him, but he pushed it away.

  Claire drew herself up. “I handled the attack on my carriage very well on my own, thank you very much. As for your meeting, the only reason you’re late is because you decided I needed protection. I didn’t decide that.”

  “You ungrateful wench.”

  She laughed, a deprecating, harsh sound. “Oh, yes. That’s me. Always ungrateful.” She lifted her chin. “If you leave me, don’t expect me to be here when you return. I won’t be stored in this room for your convenience.”

  He stepped closer, crowding her with his height until she had to look up at him. Her eyes flashed in anger, but she didn’t retreat.

  “You will be here when I return.” He spun around on his heels and marched out of the room, turning the lock in the door and pocketing the key.

  “Nathan!” She pounded on the door, her voice nearly a screech. “Don’t you dare lock me in here!”