Earl of Tempest: The Wicked Earls Club

by Anders, Annabelle

  He had provided immediate warmth to a child in need, and she refused to believe that austerity and indifference were all that remained of his character.

  True, he’d not once smiled as he helped the boy into the new coat; he’d been clenching his jaw, and his eyes had been stern the entire time.

  But his action had gone beyond charity. Compassion had fueled it. Not that there was anything wrong with donating funds—the orphanage would be quite dependent upon that sort of generosity. But surely, seeing the wonder in Ollie’s eyes had to have touched him?

  It was terrifying, and perhaps foolish, but she refused to give up on the man she knew he was meant to be. His actions the day before had strengthened her hope.

  Hope that he could come to respect her affectionately once again, but more importantly, hope that he would thaw, that he could appreciate that life consisted of so much more than tragedy and loss.

  “A visitor for you, My Lady.” Mr. Hill stood in the open doorway of her favorite drawing room. “Lord Tempest.”

  Even though he’d told her he would come, her heart jumped while Aunt Emma merely nodded from where she sat knitting near the window.

  “Excellent. Send him up, and could you have Mrs. Duckworth bring some tea?”

  They were to discuss the plans, and then later, drive to the warehouse so that she could answer any questions he had.

  A shiver of anticipation danced down her spine.

  Jeremy appeared in the doorway, the plans she’d sent over rolled up in one hand, and then bowed. “Lady Lydia.” He turned to her aunt. “Lady Emma, I hope you are well.”

  Aunt Emma, who was nearsighted, but not blind, and only partially deaf, held her opera glasses to her eyes. “As well as anyone my age can expect. You’ve certainly made yourself scarce. Come here, my boy, so I can get a look at you.”

  Lydia bit back a smile as she watched this proud man bow over her aunt’s hand. She was secretly pleased that her aunt treated him no differently than she had all his life.

  “You’ve lost weight. Likely worrying about your mother, no doubt. How is Lady Tempest? Dreadful business, this growing old. And do sit down. My neck’s going to get a crick looking up at you like this.” Before Jeremy could answer, she turned to Lydia. “Lydia, my dear, you and I will make it a point to visit Lady Tempest later this week. You will find time to come with me in between all this orphanage business of yours.”

  Lydia nodded but watched to see if Jeremy would provide any more details than he had the day before.

  “She is fragile,” he said softly as he took a seat on the opposite end of the settee where Lydia sat. Turning toward Lydia’s aunt, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She may not recognize you. Most days, she doesn’t know me from Adam.”

  The admission was a startling one. No wonder…

  No wonder.

  “I’m so sorry, Jeremy.” Of course, his aunt would call him by his given name. She’d known him as a child, and then a young man. “I imagine her heart weakened from young Arthur’s passing. There is too much tragedy in this world.”

  If Lydia had not been watching him very closely, she would have missed it. Despair flickered across his face.

  His throat worked, as though he was swallowing unwanted emotion. And then his eyes shuttered once again. “We’re doing our best to keep her comfortable, for now.”

  But Lydia realized something that perhaps even he didn’t know.

  He’d lost the will to hold onto hope.

  Aunt Emma nodded. “But I know you did not come to visit me. Feel free to go about your work while I knit.” She glanced down at the two needles and half-finished project on her lap, almost as though she’d forgotten it was there.” “If only I could remember what I was working on. Was this the scarf for your sister? Oh, no, I forgot, it’s a blanket for the baby.”

  Lydia met Jeremy’s eyes in an unexpected moment of shared amusement.

  “Lucinda is expecting later this spring.” Her sister had married later in the same Season the twin sisters had made their come out… and then moved away and become quite caught up with her new husband’s family.

  As she should.

  However, it had left an emptiness in Lydia that she never would have expected.

  “I remember,” he said.

  Of course, she’d told him when she’d received Lucinda’s letter—when they had shared these sort of details with one another.

  Lydia blinked, forcing herself not to dwell on the past. Jeremy was here on business. “What did you think of the plans?”

  “I have a few questions.” He opened them, spreading them on the low table in front of them, while she placed a candle holder on each of the corners to keep the papers from rolling back onto themselves.

  Over the next half an hour, while taking tea, they discussed the design, some issues she’d considered, and some she had not. In that time, both of them had moved to the center of the sofa, and Lydia became acutely aware of his thigh touching hers.

  His scent—which reminded her of leather-covered books, and clove, and freshly cut cedar—only served to heighten her awareness.

  She was so in tuned in to his presence that she could almost feel him breathing beside her. Altogether, she was more than a little distracted.

  She straightened her spine and focused on what he was actually saying.

  “I’m a little concerned about your garden area. If it was used for disposal, you might have problems with the soil…”

  “I had not thought of that.” Lydia wrinkled her nose. When she’d first toured the warehouse, she’d only spied the yard from a window. Until it could be cleaned up, it was not at all inviting. She and Clarissa had also caught sight of a few vagrants. “I have no idea…”

  “No way to find out other than to see for ourselves.” He’d turned to stare at her, and their faces were only inches apart. His gaze flicked to her lips, and then quickly back to her eyes. “Shall we drive over now then? Did you wish to change first?”

  She barely heard his question over the pounding of her heart. When he’d kissed her last, she had welcomed it, but she hadn’t felt like her skin was going to burst into flames the way she felt now.

  “Lydia?”

  “Oh… oh, yes.” She glanced down at her day dress, which would have been perfectly acceptable if she was going anywhere other than the docks. “I suppose I should.” She burst off the settee. “I’ll only be a moment.”

  Jeremy only nodded at her. Had he felt that too?

  Louise, her maid, was waiting inside Lydia’s bedchamber with the plain-looking gown cleaned and pressed. Not quite fifteen minutes later, Lydia reentered the drawing room, pea-green coat draped over her arm.

  “I cannot wait for the weather to warm up.” She forced her tone to remain light and casual. She could only hope that he was unaware of how he’d affected her. “This winter has been unusually cold. And so much snow!”

  As she exited Heart Place, her hand tucked into his arm, she found herself babbling about other ideas she had for the orphanage. It wasn’t like her to go on so, and of course, he knew that.

  Unfortunately, as she sat down beside him, their proximity in the confines of the coach did nothing to settle her nerves.

  “You’re excited.” His words broke in when she finally took a breath, and her insides trembled.

  When she’d discussed her hopes with Clarissa two days before, she’d not taken into consideration what working with him might do to her. She was optimistic, yes, but if she lost him again, would she ever be able to fall in love again? She couldn’t imagine it.

  “I am.”

  “The Season begins in a little over a month, and construction should be well underway by then. If it’s all the same, I’ll manage all of this while you flit about with the ton.”

  Flit about?

  Flit about?

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ll hardly have time for both.” He shrugged.

  “What?
You—” She needed a moment to realized what he was saying. “I’ll have you know my priority is the orphanage. And although I plan to attend a few select events and seek out donations.” She gritted her teeth. “I have no intentions of allowing the season to distract me. I thought you’d realized this by now.”

  “Do you not intend to place yourself on the marriage mart, then?”

  “I do not.” In fact, she’d put all thoughts of marriage from her mind the day after he’d told her to keep away from him.

  “You’ll change your mind.” The arrogance in his voice had her twisting around to confront him.

  “Of the two of us.” She pointed at him and then herself. “I… I am not the fickle one.”

  He returned her gaze steadily, and she would have given ten years of her life to know what was going on inside his head in that moment.

  “Why?” she couldn’t help but ask, her voice choking. Why did you send me away?

  Her question had him looking trapped, and she hated whatever it was that had changed him. He was saved from answering, however, when the carriage came to a halt.

  “I have other business to attend to today, so let’s get this over with, shall we?” The icy tone of his voice effectively put a halt to her curiosity.

  It wasn’t often Lydia allowed herself to become angry, but she was sorely tempted to at that moment.

  Except they were at the warehouse now, and the orphanage came first.

  * * *

  Why?

  He knew exactly what she was asking, but he wasn’t about to discuss it with her today. Or ever.

  The secret wasn’t his to share.

  He offered his hand for her to step onto the walk, but she grasped the side of the carriage instead.

  He shouldn’t be here with her. This situation was untenable. Baxter didn’t know what the hell he’d been doing when he suggested Jeremy finance this damned orphanage.

  And yet…

  Damn his eyes, Jeremy wanted to be here with her.

  And watching her bustle through the door ahead of him, he admitted that he wanted more than that.

  But he could never give her what she wanted: marriage. He could not join their two families together—not while both of her brothers were intent on tarnishing Arthur’s memory.

  Tarnishing it with the very worse of accusations.

  Pushing away the dissonance inside of him, Jeremy watched Lydia shove, and then slam her shoulders into the door, sending it flying open before he could catch up with her and do it himself. She glanced at him over her shoulder, scowling, but not bothering to hide her satisfaction at the insignificant triumph.

  Better she release her anger on the door, he supposed, than on him.

  Even so. “You’ll hurt yourself.” He strolled through the opening behind her.

  “I’m fine.”

  She was so ‘fine’ in fact, that she spent the next forty-five minutes marching him through the building, answering him as succinctly as possible, and glowering at him whenever she caught his eye. She made it painfully clear that she was determined to refrain from mentioning the past to him again.

  All of which he, quite rightly, deserved.

  “You should go to the balls and the garden parties,” he offered thoughtfully once they’d returned to the ground floor. Even so, he couldn’t keep his gaze from settling on her lush hips as she preceded him toward the door leading outside to the vacant land in back.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she bit out without looking at him.

  “I’ll take care of matters here--ensure things are finished properly. You really should land yourself a husband—perhaps a wealthy one who’ll happily add his blunt to your pet projects.”

  She spun around to face him—eyes burning, her lovely cheeks flushed. “This is not a pet project for me!” He’d never seen her looking so worked up before. Not even on the day he’d ended things between the two of them. “What must I do to get that through your thick skull?”

  Momentarily stunned, he inexplicably found his heart racing. She was impossible. She was a bloody Cockfield, he reminded himself. He forced himself to recall what her brothers had set out to do to Arthur.

  “Time will tell.” He affected disdain in the face of her enthusiasm.

  Because, unfortunately, he already believed her. She was not fickle, and even though she was far too young to be so diligent, she would not abandon a worthwhile project after starting it.

  “Time?” She was pacing around in a circle now, gesturing wildly with her arms. “Time? How much time do you need? Is knowing me for most of my life not enough to prove my character to you? Or allowing you to hold my hand when we walked alone through the forest? What about the fact that I gave you permission to court me? To kiss me? Is it not—”

  Jeremy swept her into his arms. He would silence the reminder of those memories with his mouth.

  If she’d pushed him away, he would have released her. If she’d held her lips tightly together, he would not have dipped his tongue behind them.

  But no.

  She melted against him, like butter on warm bread.

  She tasted like the tea they’d drank earlier, that, and the sweetest flower, like comfort and…

  Good god in heaven, Lydia Cockfield tasted like love.

  When he’d kissed her last fall, he’d been cautious, proper. He had not embraced her fully, held her small figure pressed tightly against his.

  If he had, he wondered if he’d have had the strength to walk away.

  She was as forgiving as an angel. But she was also warm, willing, and sensual. The feel of her breasts crushed against him sent white-hot arousal coursing through his veins. Her soft abdomen absorbed the pressure of his cock, taunting him at how it would feel to slide between her legs.

  “Jeremy.” She whispered against his lips, making his name sound like a fervent prayer.

  Need threatened his self-control. He could remove both their coats and arrange them on the floor. She would be his for the taking.

  She stiffened. “What’s that sound? I heard something.”

  She shoved at his chest, her bosom rising and falling with each labored breath. Even though her lips were swollen and shining from their kiss, her eyes were wide.

  And then he heard it too. Like a door being thrown open.

  And if he hadn’t spun around so quickly, he might have missed the sprite dashing through the door.

  “Ollie?” Lydia recognized him just as Jeremy wrapped his hand around the child’s arm.

  A very thin arm.

  A very thin and coatless arm.

  Chapter 5

  Jeremy tightened his grip on this urchin for the second time in two days.

  “I didn’t do anyfin’’!” Ollie shouted. “Why you always grabbin’ me?” He jerked his arm in a futile attempt to break free.

  Jeremy was grateful that the boy had interrupted them before matters had gone too far; however, for the same reason, he was also tempted to throttle him.

  Lydia, however, didn’t suffer similar conflicting feelings and was already on her knees, running her hands down Ollie’s spindly little arms and legs. “What happened to you? Where is your coat?”

  Bruises littered those pale arms, and crusted blood mingled with the dirt and grime on the boy’s trousers. Looking up into Lydia’s eyes, the unruly urchin ceased his fighting and Jeremy relaxed his grip. Rationally, Jeremy knew of the trials these children faced on the docks, but to see the consequences meted out on one so young…

  It was a unacceptable.

  “You said if I came I’d git help. But no one was here and since I don’ have no coins for the boss again, I came here an’ hid.” Ollie narrowed his eyes at Jeremy. “I wasn’ hidin’ from you and her.”

  “Of course, you weren’t hiding from me,” Lydia all but cooed at the little trespasser. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault then. I should have been more clear…” She exhaled a guilty sigh. “We need to hire workers first. Who did this to you?”
r />   She was doing her best to remain calm, Jeremy knew, but her voice trembled with emotion. She raised her fingers to Ollie’s face and brushed back unruly strands of soot-black hair to reveal a bruise near his eye.

  “Buck did. Said it was a lesson I had comin’.”

  “Buck?” Lydia looked confused, but Jeremy had no doubt that Buck would be one of the older boys in the street gang Ollie ran with.

  “I wen’ back wi’ no’ enuf coins for Farley.”

  Lydia’s face fell with the realization. “Oh, Ollie.”

  “Buck’s no problem. But Farley has a pistol.”

  Jeremy clenched his fists. He couldn’t help but wonder if the pistol was one that had been stolen from Ludwig’s.

  “In that case, you’ll simply have to come home with me.” Lydia rested on her heels and nodded decisively.

  Oh, hell.

  “You can’t just take a boy home with you!” Good Lord! Blackheart needed to return to London soon before his sister filled not only an orphanage but Heart Place with homeless urchins.

  “But this is all my fault! I told him we’d be here.” She gazed up at him.

  “Tha’ she did, m’lord,” Ollie echoed.

  The child would rob her blind.

  After spending a few days in the lap of luxury, innocent little Ollie would likely show right back up at the docks with as much of Blackheart’s silver as he could carry. He’d break Lydia’s tender heart in the process. “It isn’t safe, that’s why. You know nothing about this boy.”

  Lydia herself would be vulnerable if Ollie took it upon himself to return to Heart Place with a few of his friends.

  “But he is in danger.” She stared up at him fiercely, her cobalt eyes unwavering.

  “And taking him into your home could place you in danger as well.” He pinned his gaze on Ollie. “I imagine Farley isn’t very forgiving when he loses an… employee. Am I right, young man?” Jeremy demanded sternly. No way in hell was he allowing Lydia to bring a street urchin home with her.

  Ollie squirmed. “I don’ suppose he would be.”

  Jeremy scrubbed a hand down his face. As soon as word got out about the orphanage, this Farley fellow, or some other gang boss, would no doubt start up trouble.