Loving the Earl: A Loveswept Historical Romance

by Cullen, Sharon

  His father had been intimate with this woman at some point. But how intimate?

  On the other side of the room Thomas shifted, then sidled to the door, slipping past Nathan. His footsteps echoed off the stone walls as he descended the steps, leaving Nathan alone with Rosaria.

  Her expression softened. “I’ve missed you.”

  She obviously was a bit touched in the head. He’d heard of this happening, people slipping in and out of reality, living in the past.

  She leaned forward. “I don’t trust those men you are with.”

  Men? “Which men do you refer to?”

  “I’ve heard things.” She looked around as if someone were lurking in the shadows. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” She fiddled with her shawl, looked around the room as if she didn’t know where she was, then back up at him with a confused look. “You’re not Michael. Who are you?” She glanced around again. “Where’s Thomas? Where did the boy get off to now? He’s not right in the head, you know.”

  “Thomas left.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “That boy. Just like his father, disappearing then reappearing.”

  She appeared perfectly lucid now, leaving Nathan more confused.

  “I would offer you tea, but I don’t think …” Her voice trailed off and creases appeared between her brows. She looked up at Nathan, stepping back to get a better view. “You look just like him.” Her voice was soft, sad. “I miss him so even after all these years.”

  Nathan shifted uneasily, her words conjuring regret and an old grief softened by time but still present.

  “I told him not to go,” she said. “Told him it wasn’t safe but he insisted. Said it was his duty.”

  “Who said this?”

  She looked at him as if he were the daft one. “Why, Michael of course. The former Lord Blythe. Your father.”

  Nathan’s head spun trying to keep up with the conversation. One minute she thought he was his father, the next she didn’t know who he was, and the next she thought he was the one losing his mind.

  “You look just like him,” she said again.

  “So people tell me.”

  “I see you received my missives.”

  “I did.”

  She nodded, her eyes bright and clear, not muddled as before. “I was unsure you would come. Then I feared you would. It’s been so long since his death, but I’m afraid the danger is still present. That is why I asked you to go to Paris first. I needed to be certain you weren’t followed.”

  “Thomas followed me.”

  She smiled, clear pride in her son shining in her expression. “He is a good boy. A little slow at times.” Her hands fluttered about her. “I am too old to travel now, although I would love to see Paris one last time.” She looked off into the distance, no doubt remembering happier times, better times. With his father?

  He didn’t want to ask.

  With a jerk, she brought herself back to the present. “Is that bitch still alive? The one who whelped you?”

  Despite her crude language, Nathan had to bite back a smile at the apt reference to his mother. “She is.”

  Rosaria snorted. “Useless female. She never appreciated what she had.”

  “No. She never did.” But he suspected Rosaria appreciated what she had. He should be shocked to discover that his father had a mistress in Italy. Instead he was almost pleased that his father found some happiness in his life.

  He led Rosaria to the settee and helped her sit. She spread her worn gown out as if she were at a ball, clothed in silk and diamonds, instead of well-mended rough wool and worn slippers.

  Nathan settled into a nearby chair and leaned forward. “Your letter indicated you had information regarding my father’s death?”

  A shadow passed across her face. “I told him not to go. I told him the men weren’t what they seemed.”

  “Men?”

  “The Fratello di Sangue Familia.”

  Nathan reared back. She was literally saying the blood brother family. “I don’t understand.”

  She grew agitated, twisting her fingers together. Color leaked into her wrinkled cheeks. “He was to leave with them. I begged him not to go. Told him I was carrying his child but he insisted. He said I was being …” She waved her hand in the air. “What is the word? Foolish. He said he would return after he led the men over the mountains and informed the king of his findings.”

  “The king?” Nathan felt like an imbecile repeating everything she said, but he was having a difficult time understanding. His father was involved in a secret society and he was going to tell the king … what? And what the hell did she mean she was with child?

  Again she looked at him as if he were the daft one. “King George.”

  He took her hand in his, gently cradling her swollen knuckles to keep her from wringing her hands. “Rosaria. I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. My father was involved in the Fratello di Sangue Familia?”

  “No. No.” She yanked her hand from his and stood to pace a few feet away. “You don’t understand.”

  He was trying, damn it, but she wasn’t making sense. And he didn’t know if she was reliving the past or telling him some story she’d concocted from her addled brain.

  She whirled around. “You aren’t listening. They killed your father.” She looked around furtively as if they were hiding behind the draperies listening.

  “Who killed my father?”

  She flung her arm out. “The familia.” Tears filled her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. She sobbed, her chest heaving, and collapsed onto the settee where she crossed her arms over her stomach and rocked back and forth. “I should have never told him. All my fault.” She drew in ragged breaths.

  Nathan could only stare at her, his mind a whirling mass of questions and incomplete thoughts.

  Rosaria wiped the tears from her cheeks and sniffed. “They killed him. They killed him and made it look like an accident. All these years no one knew but me and I was too frightened to say anything because of Thomas.”

  She looked at him with eyes full of fear. “What if they hurt Thomas? What if they take Michael’s son from me?”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  When Claire walked away from Blythe, she did it with as much dignity as she could muster. One would think she’d had enough practice, seeing as she clung to her dignity like a security blanket during her marriage to Richard. But this was different. This was a pain unlike she’d ever experienced before.

  Every event, every moment since boarding that ship in England, had not been an adventure in being independent, or finding herself or whatever other rot she’d desperately wanted to believe. It had been a very cleverly disguised guided tour perpetrated by her brother and Blythe. She should be angry at her brother but she couldn’t seem to summon the energy, for every bit of her anger was directed at Blythe.

  Except Blythe didn’t plan on putting her up at Gaudet’s or the blizzard that struck just as they were crossing the Alps or the peasant uprising.

  Drat it all. She was so confused.

  Gabrielle led Claire to her home and Claire was grateful for the support because suddenly she couldn’t see through the blinding tears that filled her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. She valiantly tried to control her sobs, which built inside her, pressing against her rib cage until it hurt.

  She hurt, damn it!

  She stumbled up a set of stone steps that opened up into the portego of Gabrielle’s home. Her friend led her to a sumptuous settee and Claire dropped into it and sighed.

  Gabrielle sat next to her and rubbed her arm. “What has happened, cara?”

  For a long moment all Claire could do was breathe, never mind speaking. Gabrielle sat silently, patiently waiting for Claire to gather her composure and thoughts.

  “Did Lord Blythe hurt you?”

  Claire shook her head and swiped the tears now falling onto her bodice.

  “Would you like some tea?” Gabrielle asked.


  “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  Gabrielle snorted, an indelicate, unladylike sound. “You are certainly not fine, but if you insist on the farce then I will play along.”

  Claire sighed deeply. “It’s all so muddled, Gabrielle. I set off for one purpose and discovered along the way that I wanted something entirely different.”

  “Isn’t that the reason of a journey, cara? To discover new things, experience new … delights?”

  Claire tried to smile but failed miserably. “I started off with the intention of visiting you and finding an Italian lover.”

  Thank goodness for Gabrielle’s worldliness for she didn’t so much as flex a muscle at Claire’s announcement.

  “Let me guess,” her friend said. “You found the lover and he wasn’t Italian and because he wasn’t Italian he was a complete disappointment.”

  Claire surprised herself by laughing. “Quite the opposite in fact.”

  “I thought as much. So why the tears?”

  “I thought …” Claire dropped her head into her hands.

  “You thought your adventure was something it was not.” Gabrielle paused. “You do realize how foolish it was to travel to Paris unchaperoned, do you not?”

  “Please, Gabrielle. Not you too.” But she did know. And maybe someday she would admit it to her brother.

  Gabrielle patted her hand. “I will not lecture. So what will you do now?”

  “He asked me to marry him.”

  “Oh, Claire. Stupendo!”

  “Yes and no. He lied to me, Gabrielle. By not telling me that he was sent to protect me, he lied.”

  Footsteps sounded on the steps and Claire tensed. She wasn’t ready to see Nathan just yet, but it was Sebastian who appeared, looking sheepish and exhausted.

  He looked at Gabrielle. Something in his eyes made Claire peer closer. There was an intimacy between them that was altogether surprising for two people who had known each other only a few days.

  “Gabrielle,” he said, “do you mind if I speak to Claire alone?”

  Gabrielle looked at Claire, a question in her eyes. Slowly Claire nodded. She didn’t want to speak to Sebastian, didn’t want a listing of her failures or how much she inconvenienced him and the staff and Gabrielle. But Claire knew her brother well enough to know that he wouldn’t go away and she might as well get it over with.

  Gabrielle stood. “I will instruct the staff to prepare some tea.” She looked meaningfully at Claire. “I will be close by if you need me.”

  Claire nodded and watched Gabrielle shoot Sebastian a glare. Sebastian met her gaze then looked away. When her footsteps receded, Sebastian cleared his throat and moved closer. Claire straightened her spine and resolved to wait out the lecture.

  “I apologize, Claire.”

  She jerked her gaze to his.

  “For not being there for you during your marriage to Richard.”

  She suddenly became cold, goose pimples rising on her skin. “He told you?” she whispered, referring to Blythe.

  Sebastian nodded, looking haunted. “I … Well, there is no excuse. I should have protected you better.”

  “No. No,” she said louder, with more vehemence. “Richard should have protected me better. He was my husband. He was the one who vowed in a church in front of a priest and hundreds of witnesses that he would protect me.”

  “I’m your brother. I should have seen, should have done something.”

  “I hid it from all of you because Richard threatened you.”

  Sebastian waved his hand in the air. “You had to have known that meant nothing to me.”

  “He threatened to bring the entire family down and he could have done so with just one whispered word to the king. He was well respected, well liked and well on his way to becoming an advisor. Nothing was going to get in his way, certainly not his wife.”

  Sebastian’s lips thinned. “All the same, I would have helped you.”

  Her shoulders drooped. “It’s in the past now. Richard is dead and I’d like to bury him for good if possible.”

  “Nathan told me of your adventure.”

  All of it? Somehow she doubted that.

  “He regrets not telling you that I asked him to watch out for you. Don’t blame him, Claire. This was my fault.”

  She wanted to laugh but she hurt too much. “Always your fault, Sebastian. Does it ever occur to you that others make mistakes that have nothing to do with you? Lord Blythe held information from me because he wanted to, not because he told you he would. He had every opportunity to tell me but didn’t. Not everything falls on your shoulders.”

  Sebastian looked at her steadily. “I believe, Claire, that in some ways you’re the smartest of the lot of us.”

  She nodded once, inordinately pleased with the backhanded compliment. “I’m glad someone is beginning to realize it.”

  Sebastian’s smile was faint. “He’s miserable.”

  “He should be.”

  “You need to forgive him.”

  In time she might. No, in time she would. Blythe thought he was doing what was right, and God save her from men who thought they were perpetually right. It was her burden in life to be tasked with the lot of them. Even so, even though it frustrated her to no end, she still loved the blasted man.

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  “He said you were too angry at the moment and he had somewhere he needed to be. Some meeting or such.”

  The letters. She was disappointed she wasn’t going with him since she’d been beside him through most of this journey, but he wouldn’t have allowed her to accompany him anyway.

  She stood on shaky legs and smoothed her skirts out. “I’m going outside for some fresh air.”

  Sebastian lifted his chin toward the other side of the room. “The garden is through that door. Turn right and walk through the piano nobile. The first door on your left leads to the inner gardens.”

  Claire paused and looked at her brother closely. How did he know his way around Gabrielle’s home so intimately? Her eyes widened. “You and—”

  “Enough, Claire.” This was said in the brotherly tone he’d used almost her whole life when rebuking her. Claire suppressed a smile and walked away, following Sebastian’s direction until she stepped out into the damp night. On the other side of the walled garden she could hear the canal slapping softly against the wall. There was some sort of ball or entertainment a few doors down, the muted laughter penetrating her peace and quiet. She took a deep breath, alone for the first time since … Well, since the few moments she was alone at the hospice, and it felt good to be able to sort through her thoughts without distraction. To settle her mind and really think about the last few days.

  She and Nathan had spoken of marriage in such a sterile way that it depressed her. Even though she’d been in a miserable marriage before and vowed never to marry again, she discovered she didn’t want the type of convenience Nathan was offering.

  Yet not once had he mentioned love. He’d merely stated very solid, acceptable reasons for marriage. And she hated every one of them. She wanted more, damn it. She wanted love and passion. She wanted mutual admiration and a level of comfort that only two people who lived together for a long period of time could achieve.

  She wanted it all and she refused to settle for less.

  A noise behind her had her turning around. A shadow flitted through the garden then was lost.

  “Sebastian?” Claire took a step closer, peering into the darkness. “Gabrielle?”

  She listened, filtering out the canal noises and the revelries, but heard and saw nothing else. With a shrug she turned back and meandered down the path.

  A hand suddenly closed over her mouth. She shrieked but the sound was muffled. An arm clamped around her waist, dragging her against a body. Claire shoved her elbow into the soft flesh behind her. Her captor grunted. She shrieked again and tried to bite down on the fingers covering her mouth but she couldn’t get a good grip. She kicked back but the person quickly
stepped to the side, avoiding her foot.

  “Silence,” he hissed in her ear. For the sound most definitely came from a male. “Not one sound, Lady Chesterman. I will take you to Lord Blythe but only if you cooperate.”

  She stilled, her heart pounding furiously. Nathan? Did he have Nathan as well? Who would want the both of them? What was happening here?

  “Will you cooperate?”

  She hesitated, then jerked her head in what she hoped he interpreted as a yes.

  “A wise choice, my lady. Let’s walk calmly. No trying to escape. Do I have your word?”

  She nodded again.

  The man walking behind was shorter than her and soft around the middle but he had a strength that she couldn’t match. If there was one thing she learned during her marriage it was when she was physically outmatched. But there were other ways to fight back. She merely had to bide her time, be patient and watch closely.

  He pushed a rusty gate open with his foot. The screech pierced the night. He stilled, waiting, every muscle tense. After a few moments, when no one came running, he pushed her through the gate and hurried to a gondola tied to the dock.

  Nathan sat back, too stunned to breathe, yet knowing he’d been anticipating this revelation since Rosaria revealed that she was his father’s mistress. Thomas was his father’s son. His half brother.

  Rosaria clutched his hand, squeezing his fingers in a surprisingly bruising grip. “He’s your brother, Nathaniel. Please don’t let them hurt him.”

  “I won’t, Rosaria.” He was sitting with his father’s mistress and he had a brother. How the hell was one supposed to digest that information? “Tell me about the men. Who were they? What were their names?”

  Her gaze darted around the room, her fingers trembling in his. “They’ll find me. They’ll find Thomas.”

  “I won’t let that happen, Rosaria. I’m the earl now and you and Thomas are under my protection.”

  Her gaze landed on him, wary and hopeful at the same time. “Do I have your word? I could always rely on Michael’s word. Can I rely on yours?”