And he had kissed her earlier today—and he’d done it as though he couldn’t help himself. He’d been like a man starved.
Much the way she had felt.
Jeremy took a step closer and reached out and brushed his fingertips along the fabric of her sleeve. “How do you manage to look more beautiful each time I see you?”
It didn’t feel as though he was complimenting her, more like he was truly baffled by such a phenomenon.
“Jeremy.” All she could do was say his name. And of course, all of her feelings sounded in that single word. In that moment, the broken heart she’d lived with since that dreadful November day made itself known as actual physical pain. “What happened? Why do you hate us? Why do you hate me?”
He exhaled loudly, in such a way that she sensed the weight of the world crashing down on him.
“I don’t hate you, Lydia.” He blinked and turned to stare up at a rather large painting of one of her ancestors. But he wasn’t really looking at the painting.
“Then why?”
“I can’t tell you why.” His voice hardened. “You don’t want to know. It wouldn’t be fair for me to tell you, nor would it be fair for… others involved.”
“My brothers?”
The muscles of his jaw twitched. “And others.”
She couldn’t help herself, she moved even closer to him until naught but a few inches separated them.
She stared down and grasped both of his hands in hers.
Jeremy’s hands were not soft. They never had been. Ever since he’d inherited his father’s title, she knew of several occasions when he’d taken the time to work in the fields with his tenants.
He may have been their landlord. They may have feared him a little, even. But they all respected him.
She grazed her fingertips over the callouses, which now sported ink stains.
Jeremy was not an idle person, nor was he a man who accumulated wealth for the sake of accumulating wealth. He seemed to be lost in his own frenzy, however. Raging against humanity in his grieving.
He did not resist her hold of his hand but neither did he do anything to encourage her.
For Lydia, of course, this was encouragement enough.
Because this was Jeremy.
“I’ve missed you.” She’d wanted to tell him this since she first saw him in Lord Baxter’s office and especially while she’d been walking alone with him through the Wicked Earls’ Club.
He didn’t answer but turned his head away.
She raised one of her hands to trail the line of his jaw. “If you don’t hate me, then why…?”
He moved his chin side to side, and then he turned to stare at her again. How many times had she gazed into the warmth of his mahogany gaze, feeling safe and protected, but most of all, simply knowing that he was her destiny?
In that moment, she felt all of this… and more.
Kiss me, she begged him with her eyes. Heat that had once felt like flickering embers burst into a raging inferno.
She pressed up, onto her toes, and parted her lips.
Seeing confusion and indecision in his eyes, she closed her own and waited. She was not afraid that he would embarrass her. Perhaps she ought to be. But she’d also seen something else in his gaze.
She’d seen the same longing that must be reflected in her own.
On tiptoes, one hand cradling his cheek, the other now resting on his shoulder, she waited.
“Lydia.” The warmth of his breath fanned her lips. “Lydia.”
The temperature of her blood spiked, and a roaring sound filled her ears as it raced through her veins.
Oh, yes. So much yes.
When his mouth captured hers, he seemed to be seeking permission.
And… forgiveness. He was not demanding, impatient, and passionate as he’d been earlier. This kiss was quiet—searching.
When he traced the seam along her lips with his tongue, he did not press inside until she parted her mouth and welcomed all that he would offer.
“Lydia.” A shudder ran through him.
Her arms snaked up his chest and encircled his neck now, as though she’d been drowning for months and finally found something to keep her afloat.
Locked in his embrace, sobs threatened to overflow, and her eyes burned with tears.
“Jeremy.” Her throat caught. “Why did you hurt me so?” There must be some explanation.
He stilled then, and released her mouth, ending the kiss.
“What did I do wrong?” Her heartache and confusion could not be contained, the question escaping unchecked. She had to know!
He cradled her face in his hands, conflicting emotions burning in his eyes. “I didn’t want to. You did nothing.” He stared at her mouth and then into her eyes again. “What am I going to do with you, Lydia?”
Love me! Love me! Love me!
These words, however, she kept to herself. He wasn’t ready. If she pushed too hard, she’d lose him forever.
But there had to be a way. Deep down, she knew with every fiber of her being that Jeremy loved her as much as she loved him. Anyone else would consider her naïve to convince herself of this, but she didn’t care.
She simply knew this about him. I know him.
He reached up and, wrapping his fingers around her wrists, extracted himself from their embrace. Stepping back, he closed his eyes as though summoning strength.
Strength to resist her? Or his own urges? His own desires… and dreams?
“Work will begin in the warehouse tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll have contracts sent over for you to sign in the morning.”
When she didn’t say anything but only nodded, he took another step backward.
“Ollie is waiting for you,” she reminded him.
He made a quick bow and pivoted, his shoes echoing in the vast foyer as he strode toward the door.
* * *
He’d kissed her twice yesterday.
Not once, but twice, for God’s sake!
Jeremy leaned forward, urging the stallion he’d chosen to ride that morning faster as he raced along the nearly empty road that made up most of Rotten Row. Perhaps the speed could clear his head.
Zeus ate up the ground all too quickly, sending the cool morning air rushing past his face and in his hair. When Jeremy drew the spirited animal to a halt, the horse protested, throwing back his head and rising momentarily onto his hind legs.
Precisely how Jeremy felt, if he was to be perfectly honest.
The horse lowered his head and then rose up a second time but failed to unseat his rider. Jeremy had been prepared for it, leaning forward and digging his heels into the horse’s sides.
Sounds of another rider approaching had Jeremy grimacing until the familiar voice called out.
“Incredible animal!” Baxter was dressed in full morning attire, top hat in place, and riding a white mare who, although nearly as large and haughty as Zeus, was much better mannered.
“He needs work, but he certainly shows promise.” Jeremy rubbed his hand along Zeus’s slick, black neck as Baxter drew up alongside them.
“Necessary, I know, but I’m almost sorry to see the magnificent ones broken.”
Jeremy nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. He turned to ride the length of the row again, and Baxter followed.
“I was going to come by your office today,” Jeremy admitted. The park was all but empty and perhaps a better place for this conversation than the club would have been.
“My decision to ride this morning was quite opportune then.” The earl sent an approving glance across the space between the two of them. “My countess tells me you’re amenable to financing the orphanage.”
“Yes.” Jeremy marveled that something he’d opposed so vehemently only a few days before had suddenly become one of his top priorities.
“Bash, my brother, has a few concerns about Ludwig.”
This caught Jeremy’s attention. “Devonshire’s considering investing then?”
Baxter scowle
d and then exhaled loud enough that Jeremy heard it over the pounding of the horses’ hooves.
“He and Gold aren’t enthusiastic. Aside from some of the shipments known to have gone missing, there are reports that those that have actually arrived at the Ashanti Coast were tampered with. Air pockets are getting caught in the firing chamber. Particularly troublesome when pistols explode in our own soldiers’ hands.”
Jeremy knew this. And since potential investors did as well…
“Which has effectively driven down Ludwig’s value,” Jeremy pointed out. “My first objective is to eliminate the vermin involved.”
Baxter jerked to a halt and pinned his gaze on Jeremy. “You know who to go after?”
“I have a few leads, and ironically enough, one of them was provided by one of our orphans. A gang boss by the name of Farley. Surely it’s not a coincidence that the name Farley has come up on more than one of my manifests?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Not under these circumstances.” Jeremy rolled a shoulder. “The Ludwig brothers themselves. are apathetic at best, if not outright culpable. As far as I can tell, they’ve only encouraged such activity. Impossible for other legitimate businesses to function in the climate that’s come about.” Legitimate being the keyword.
“There are rumors that they’ve badgered a few club members. Not good for business at all.”
“One way or another, we need to neutralize them.”
“My brother mentioned the same.” Baxter seemed quite in agreement. “And now with the ladies involved…”
Jeremy nodded. His thoughts exactly. “I’ll be thorough. Tell that to your brother and Gold.”
“Until then, we can only hope to keep them at bay. But I’ve no doubt they’ll make mischief, if not worse, at the warehouse. They’ll fight it. If the children have other options, better options, the gangs lose their soldiers.” Baxter stared straight ahead at the unoccupied run.
“One would wonder,” Jeremy side-eyed the club owner, “if perhaps you were aware of the connection when you so innocently suggested I step in to fund their operations?”
Baxter chortled and then urged his horse forward again. “They don’t call me the Earl of Bastards for nothing.”
Jeremy could only chuckle at this. And then he wondered if, a few days before, he would have chuckled at anything.
Lydia had always been able to make him laugh when he was feeling dour, and apparently, that hadn’t changed.
But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t allow her to melt his resolve.
She was Lydia, but she was also a Cockfield. And he couldn’t look beyond the choice her brothers had made.
“What’s really motivating you in all of this, Tempest?” Baxter asked out of the blue, almost as though he was reading Jeremy’s mind. “I understand the potential for profits, but in the past two months, you’ve moved your office to the docks, set your sights on what ought to be a relatively troublesome investment, and now you’re intent on rooting out a gang of treasonous villains. It’s all well and good, of course, but why now? And why you? Does this have something to do with your brother?”
Jeremy stiffened, and Zeus twitched and then jerked his head, turning sideways on the road and threatening to buck again.
Rather than answer Baxter’s question, Jeremy soothed the animal, increasing the pressure with his legs and thighs.
Only when Zeus was under control did he glance at Baxter again.
The earl merely stared at him questioningly, waiting patiently, brows raised.
“My brother served valiantly,” Jeremy answered. “Why wouldn’t I concern myself with issues that threaten our soldiers?”
Baxter looked as though he knew more but simply tightened his mouth.
“Ludwig’s profits will double. Possibly triple,” Jeremy continued. He had analyzed every possible scenario and none of the numbers lined up with those provided by the current owners. “The greater the risk, the greater the reward. You, Bash, and Gold are simply going to have to decide if you’ve the ballocks to go all in.”
“It’s not me who requires convincing. As I said before…”
“Yes.” Jeremy stared knowingly back at the other earl. “However, considering you’re known as London’s most charmed negotiator, I shouldn’t be concerned, eh?”
Baxter snorted. “True.”
“And as far as these gang bosses,” Jeremy went on, “I’ve discussed the issue with a handful of Bow Street Runners. But I wouldn’t mind a little help with manpower once we decide to raid, once I know more of the specifics.”
“How many?”
“Twenty men. More if you can.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Just do me a favor and try to give me a few hours’ notice. I’ll need to bring substitutes into the club.”
Jeremy nodded. The idea that he might be able to clear his brother’s name was one he couldn’t let go of. Or perhaps, the notion refused to let go of him.
Unfortunately, it was also possible the information he discovered could do just the opposite.
That thought summoned an elephant to sit on his chest.
Damn Lucas, and damn Blackheart, and damn them both to hell that they would turn their backs on his brother so easily.
“Is this orphan of yours the same one you’ve taken into your home?”
“Women talk too much.” But Jeremy nodded.
“Your newfound compassion knows no bounds now.”
“Lady Lydia didn’t allow me much choice. If I didn’t take him in, she would have taken him home with her to Heart Place. He’d have robbed her blind.” Jeremy shrugged. “It’s a small thing, and I might as well take advantage of any information he provides me. It won’t be long before the boy tires of eanring honest wages. He may lead me right to this Farley fellow.”
Lydia would be hugely disappointed, and Jeremy felt an inkling of guilt for not making all of his intentions clear to her. But if he had, she would have only had questions. And she would have defended Ollie most ardently. They would argue. Her cheeks would flush, and her cobalt eyes would sparkle with passion, causing him to forget what they were arguing about in the first place and give into other, counterintuitive urges.
Urges that could only end in further heartache. Jeremy unclenched and clenched his fists. Because both his cock and his heart protested the assumption.
Baxter drew his horse to a halt again and glanced down at his fob watch. “Keep me appraised, Tempest. But I’d best turn back. My countess will be expecting me to break my fast with her.” Tipping his hat, he grinned. “Give my best to Lady Lydia.”
Jeremy stared after him—a man who, born on the wrong side of the blanket, had elevated himself to become a bloody earl. As the white mare pranced toward the park exit, Baxter road away, his posture as noble as any man born into a title. Damned fellow knew far too much for his own good.
Jeremy couldn’t help but wonder what else he knew.
Chapter 7
Having met with two seamstresses at Madam Chantal’s and arranged for them to make some drawings of potential uniforms, Lydia stood waiting for her driver outside of the Bond Street shop with her maid and exhaled a long sigh.
As busy as she’d kept herself over the past week, it was impossible to keep her mind from going back to the day Jeremy had kissed her.
Twice, he’d kissed her.
Twice.
But since then, it had become quite apparent that he’d decided to avoid her.
Rather than bring the contract to her himself, Jeremy had sent it via messenger. As promised, he had indeed included the requirement that she not visit the Tuesday Warehouse unprotected, and it was an enforceable clause.
But most importantly, the contract ensured that the orphanage would be funded for eighteen months from the date of opening. She could not convince herself the clause was worth arguing over in the face of his generosity.
Even if Jeremy had told her he was only doing this at Baxter’s insistence.
<
br /> Eager to move matters forward, after going over it with her brother’s solicitors, Lydia had signed the contract and sent it back the very next day—via messenger as well.
In addition to the contract, Jeremy sent over an ambitious timeline, as well as his preferred contractors. She’d written back that she would like to discuss a few items, but again, two days had since passed without a response.
And he had not once referenced how Ollie was doing in any of them.
Was he avoiding her or his feelings? Or were they one and the same?
She’d seen regret in his eyes after he’d kissed her, and he’d looked almost fearful as he’d backed hastily toward the front door.
Coachman John effectively brought her thoughts to a halt as he pulled the carriage up beside them.
But while she’d been waiting, a pesky little idea had formed in the back of her mind. Would it be so very inappropriate to make an unplanned visit to Jeremy’s Townhouse on Cork Street?
To visit Ollie, of course.
She bit her lip.
Visiting an orphan boy she’d taken an interest in ought not to be misconstrued in any way. In fact, it ought to be considered perfectly acceptable. Quite appropriate.
And in the event that she did happen to run into Jeremy, she had her maid with her to act as chaperone.
Nothing improper at all.
Unwilling to rethink her decision, she whipped open the sliding door to the driver’s box. “Sixteen Cork Street.”
Louise, of course, didn’t question their new destination but did raise her brows half an inch.
The truth of the matter was that Lydia was very curious about Ollie’s plight. So much so that she’d talked her nerves into settling down considerably by the time they arrived at Jeremy’s modest Mayfair townhouse.
Modest by Heart Place standards, that was.
”No need to wait on us, John. Louise and I can return on foot.” Knowing her maid was always amenable to taking the air, Lydia waved the carriage away as Louise held the iron gate open for Lydia to pass through.
The brick façade of Jeremy’s townhouse was newly painted, and the wood door was polished to a high shine. Oh, she hoped Ollie had made the right decision and stayed with Jeremy after all.
Earl of Tempest: The Wicked Earls Club Page 6
