Never Entice an Earl

by Lily Dalton

  “Do you remember, I told you I wished it could be you?”

  “I remember.”

  “It wasn’t a secret, not really.” He nuzzled her cheek, and her neck. “But more like a dream.”

  “Cormack.”

  “You make my dreams come true.” He shifted, gripping her hips, and in one thrust entered her.

  She cried out, stunned by pleasure.

  “Say it, that you’ll marry me.” He moved his hips, kissing her more deeply, more fervently with each thrust, claiming the deepest part of her, to her soul. “Please.” He wrapped his arms beneath her, seizing her to him so tightly she had to gasp to breathe. “Say you will marry me, that I can love you not just now, but forever.”

  At hearing his plea, at last the walls around her heart collapsed, setting her free to love him. New tears filled her eyes, this time formed of joy instead of pain.

  “Yes,” she whispered, twining his arms around his neck. “I will marry you. I love you, Cormack.”

  He laughed, a joyous sound from deep in his throat. Lowering to press a hot kiss on her mouth, he rolled, bringing her atop him. There, below a canopy of stars, she lowered to press her lips to his mouth, to his throat, until he pushed her back, guiding her with his hands and his body, to take up the same rhythm as his. “Yes, like that. You can’t know…how good this feels.”

  She arched, her head falling back as she found a deeper pleasure. “I do,” she whispered. “Oh, Cormack, I do.”

  *

  The next morning, after what had been a completely sleepless night for Cormack—and, he knew for a fact, for Daphne as well—the gentlemen gathered outside, while the innkeeper’s son harnessed the horses. Rackmorton had already been dispatched to London on the back of a braying, bucking donkey they had secured for the sole purpose of humiliating him on his long ride back to town. Kincraig had volunteered, quite readily, to follow a short distance behind to ensure the marquess’s course remained true.

  Havering looked at Cormack. “One day we’ll all look back at this, and it will be the most entertaining story.”

  Claxton glowered darkly. “We aren’t at that point yet. I do not look forward to explaining this turn of events to Wolverton and the marchioness, not to mention my wife.”

  Hearing footsteps, Cormack turned to the door of the inn and watched as Daphne approached. Instantly forgetting the duke and Havering, he strode forward and reached for her hand. She appeared so small, and so pale and terrified, so different from the temptress of the night before. Wanting to reassure her, he pulled her his arms and kissed her ardently.

  He murmured against her temple, “Darling, I can’t wait to marry you or to introduce you to my family. Don’t look so anxious. All will be well.”

  She clung to him, and at last a smile overtook her lips. “Let us go. Oh, Cormack, take me to Bellefrost. Take me to meet them all.”

  The four of them made use of Rackmorton’s carriage, riding in comfort, but also in relative silence, for the next hour. Cormack never once released Daphne’s hand. At last they turned down the long drive.

  “Here we are. This is Bellefrost.” Pulling her into the circle of his arms, he watched her face as they drew nearer to the place he called home.

  Her cheeks warmed, and she smiled. “It’s beautiful. I see why you love it here.”

  When the carriage stopped, they disembarked, but something stopped Cormack from leading them directly to the stairs.

  “A moment, if you will,” he said to Claxton and Havering.

  Tucking Daphne’s hand into his elbow, he took her round the side of the house, and down the pebbled lane to the family cemetery. From the gate, she led him, easily finding the pink marble tombstone that bore his sister’s name.

  “I’m so sorry, Cormack. That you lost her. That you still don’t have the answers you tried so hard to find.”

  “Don’t be. Today is not a day for regrets. I hope I’ve made clear to you I have none. I just wanted to bring you here, because she was so special to me.”

  “I wish I could have met her. I wish that she could have been here, to greet you on your return home. She must have been so proud to call you brother.”

  She slipped her hand into his, but the gesture turned into a full embrace, and he kissed her. “I’m so happy that you’re here.”

  Footsteps sounded behind them. Tiny ones, running along the path. Cormack turned to see Michael bounding toward him as fast as his short little legs would carry him, followed by his father, Lord Champdeer. At the house, a curtain moved in a window, and there his mother’s smiling face appeared.

  Daphne quickly released him and stepped back, as he lunged forward to sweep the little boy up into his arms, and high over his head. The child squealed with delight.

  Being reunited with the family he adored so completely brought a sudden surge of emotion into his throat, so fast and immense that he could not trust himself to speak. He loved Daphne, and he knew they would love her, too. But that did not mean he did not worry about how best to say the words he must say. The beginning of a new dream, as wonderful as it might be, meant the end of another.

  *

  He brought the child to settle in his arms, but the boy wiggled, demanding to be released, and barreled straight toward Daphne, where he grabbed a fistful of her skirts and stared up at her with wide-eyed curiosity.

  Lord Champdeer, gray haired and dressed in a neat black suit, smiled faintly, his gaze moving with unconcealed interest to Daphne.

  “Michael saw you from the window, and he was off like a shot.” He chuckled. “But I see you have brought guests. Please come. Let’s invite everyone inside.”

  *

  “—and we are going to be married,” said Cormack, his throat growing distinctively husky on the last word.

  Silence owned the moment. As if he sensed the gravity of the moment, even little Michael did not make a sound.

  Cormack lifted a hand to her back to steady her. Only then did she realize she’d swayed. She had been nervous on the ride to Bellefrost, but now she could scarcely breathe. That Lord and Lady Champdeer loved their son was obvious. How would they react to her?

  Lady Champdeer, Cormack’s mother, looked back at her with tear-filled eyes. “Oh, my dear girl—” She rushed forward to enfold Daphne in her arms.

  Relief washed over Daphne, and she exhaled, pressing her cheek against that of the woman whom she fully believed would become a second mother to her. Across the room, Fox and Claxton observed quietly, with Fox throwing her a reassuring wink and a smile.

  Still holding Daphne tightly, Lady Champdeer said to her son, “I’m so glad you’ve come home. The both of you.”

  And yet, his father, the marquess, stood silent and unmoving behind her.

  Michael slipped off his stool, book in hand, to reach for Daphne. “No cry, lady. Noooo.”

  She picked him up, unable to resist the promise of his snuggly warmth, and lifted him to perch between herself and the countess. “I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m crying because I’m so very happy to meet everyone, but most especially you.” He kissed her on the cheek with a wet open mouth, causing her and his grandmother both to laugh in delight. And to cry more tears.

  Lady Champdeer reached into her pocket for a handkerchief—not one, but two. “One for myself, and one for you as well.”

  She handed it over to Daphne, and before releasing her from their close embrace, she affectionately squeezed her hand tight.

  “What an unexpected but welcome surprise.” The marquess’s countenance broke, no longer inscrutable, but infused with warmth and emotion, and he strode toward Cormack to pull him into an embrace. They stood there a long moment in silence, until Cormack broke away.

  “Father, I know this changes everything for us.”

  “You refer of course to the agreement with Sir Snaith.” The older man shook his head. “How can I have allowed you to take on such a burden? A burden that should have been mine alone.” He looked at Daphne. “He ha
s told you the truth, I hope, that I am to blame for the loss of the lands that surround this home. I have always had what his mother calls a fanciful mind. I take keen interest in science, and experimentation of nature, and of late, with the conduction of electricity. But my interests and hopes for the future led me to make several unwise investments. My son…my capable and prideful son, tried to repair the mess I had made.”

  “We are family,” Cormack uttered in a thick voice. “It is what family does. And I regret deeply that I cannot follow through in bringing about their return, but I’ve been unable to arrive at any alternative.”

  “Oh, my son!” Lady Champdeer exclaimed. “There is nothing to regret. Your face confesses everything. You love her.”

  “I do.”

  “Then I do as well! Your happiness is far more important to us than any patch of dirt.”

  Cormack’s father smiled, looking between them both, his eyes aglow. “So release yourself from this obligation, one that ought never to have been placed upon you. Marry this young lady. Love her. Give me more grandchildren, because—” He chuckled. “Heaven knows this one needs distraction.”

  At that moment, Jessup the butler, the sparkly-eyed old fellow Daphne had been introduced to moments before, lumbered in carrying a tray of glasses and a crystal decanter. “My lord, I thought a celebratory toast might be in order.”

  “Indeed!” exclaimed the marquess. “Gather around, and I shall pour.”

  Glasses were passed out to everyone, including Jessup. There was also a miniature tin cup for Michael filled with milk. Everyone save for Fox, who remained behind as Claxton crossed the room.

  Cormack called out to him. “Havering, are you coming?”

  Yet Havering stared transfixed at the portrait of a young woman on the wall. A woman Daphne could only assume to be Cormack’s sister, Laura.

  “Fox…what are you doing?” she said.

  Fox turned from the portrait, his face ashen. “I…I know this young lady. Her name is Miss Picard.”

  Lady Champdeer lifted a hand to her lips. “Picard was my maiden name. My daughter used it in her employment.” She looked between her son and her husband.

  Cormack straightened, and took several steps toward him. “Havering? How did you know my sister?”

  Havering’s gaze, hazed by a sudden wash of tears, settled on the child. “And that is her…son?” He came forward to peer at the child, still in Daphne’s arms, gently lifting the boy’s face to peer into his.

  “It is.” Everything about Cormack’s demeanor changed. His jaw grew rigid, and his spine appeared to bristle.

  “My God. I have made a terrible mistake. I should have searched longer. Been more diligent in carrying through. It’s just that when I found out she’d died—”

  “Havering,” Cormack said softly. “Are you a member of the Invisibilis?”

  “No,” Havering said, meeting his gaze directly.

  “Then what, Fox?” Daphne asked in a whisper.

  “But at one time I was. It all started when we were just boys in school. Everyone was in some sort of club. Invisibilis was ours.”

  Lady Champdeer gasped, and her husband gripped her shoulder. Claxton’s scowl deepened to black.

  Cormack glanced to Daphne, thunder rising to his eyes.

  “Let him explain,” she whispered. “Please, Cormack.”

  Cormack confronted Fox. “Tell me now, are you the father of my sister’s child?”

  Silence held the room, as everyone waited for his response.

  “Daphne, look at the boy,” Havering answered. “Is there any question to whom he belongs?”

  Daphne stared down at the little child clinging to her skirts, raising his book high in his hand. At the large, dark eyes, and raven’s-wing hair. She had seen portraits of a similar boy, only her mind had not recognized the similarities until now, with Fox’s gentle encouragement.

  “Vinson,” she whispered, her eyes welling with tears. “This little boy is my brother’s child.”

  Just then, they heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor. Lady Harwick entered, along with Clarissa and Mr. Birch.

  She offered no greeting. Instead she stood very still, the blood draining from her face, and she swayed. Mr. Birch stepped forward to steady her. But she gently pushed free of him and entered the room, one slow step at a time, as tears gathered in her eyes.

  “Oh, Daphne. Fox. Is it true?”

  She stood in front of Michael, who stood pressed into Lady Champdeer’s skirts, and her mouth took on a tentative smile.

  “May I see him?”

  “Of course.”

  She lifted him into her arms and stared into his eyes. “Of course he is Vinson’s. He is the most beautiful child. Havering, please explain how this came to be.” A tear fell down her cheek. “How we did not know. But first, Daphne, please tell me you are unharmed. I simply could not wait in town, and the innkeeper directed us here.”

  “I am not.”

  “Thank heavens. How did you come to be here? The butler explained this is the home of Lord Raikes.”

  “Mother, I am betrothed to Lord Raikes.”

  “Lord Raikes?” Her mother clasped the child against her breast. “If I do not sit, I think I would faint.”

  Mr. Birch stepped forward to support her with his gloved hand. “Why don’t you sit. This has all come as a shock.”

  Daphne stood, touching a hand to the top of Michael’s head. “Fox, you must explain how this came to be. Laura and my brother?”

  “Vinson and I were inducted into the Invisibilis when we were boys, away at university. But after school, some of us grew up. Some did not. Our interests changed. Still, he and I agreed to attend a so-called Gathering of the Ages at the hunting lodge of the Duke of Rathcrispin, largely for old time’s sake. Rathcrispin’s sons were members. Once there, we wished we weren’t. The other members were still just the same way they had always been, concerned only with indulging in any form of debauchery. Vinson and I entertained ourselves actually hunting, if you can imagine that. It was then we met your sister, where the duke’s property joined that of the Deavalls’. She had three little boys with her, and one of their kites had got stuck in a tree, which resulted in Miss Picard becoming stuck in the tree. Your brother climbed up, and managed to safely carry her down.”

  “And then Vinson seduced her,” growled Cormack.

  Lady Margaretta’s head dipped, and Daphne bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. “My brother would not have…he was the most honorable man.”

  “That’s such an ugly word,” Havering answered softly. “And I know you are angry, and hurting, but I won’t let you disparage the memory of the man who was, and who will always be, my best friend. He and your sister fell in love. Much like you and Miss Bevington have done.”

  Cormack’s gaze flashed. “If he loved her, he would have married her, and this child would not be without a proper name.”

  “That’s just the thing, Raikes. He did marry her.”

  Lady Champdeer rushed to her husband’s side, and he wrapped a protective arm around her.

  “No,” interjected Lord Champdeer. “She would have told us. She said nothing of a husband.”

  “I think, sadly, because after his death, she could not produce the necessary proof.” Havering withdrew a leather case from his chest pocket, and sorted through the contents a moment before withdrawing a folded piece of parchment. “But here it is. Vinson carried it with him every moment on the voyage, you see. The night before he died, he revealed to me that he had married Miss Picard. I was so shocked. We did not keep secrets from each other, but then again, neither of us had ever been in love before, and I think…well, I think they both wished to keep it a private matter until they could do things right, and inform the families together.”

  Lady Champdeer cried into her handkerchief quietly. Lady Margaretta covered her mouth with her gloved hand.

  “Upon his return, he intended to do everything correctly, as he put it,
and meet her family, and gift her with a proper wedding day. But that night, as if he foretold his own death, he told me if anything should happen to him I should deliver this to his wife, so she could go to his family, and they would know her as his wife and embrace her as a member of their family.”

  “What happened then?” Cormack demanded hoarsely.

  “He died, of course,” Fox answered in a quiet voice. “And when I found this among his belongings the document had been half destroyed by dampness, with all the details blurred beyond legibility. The moment I disembarked after returning home, I journeyed to the church where they had married, thinking to restore the necessary portions of the document and deliver the terrible news to Miss Picard—a woman I knew in truth to be Mrs. Bevington, the wife of my dearest friend.”

  Cormack’s mother and father clasped hands, she sighing heavily.

  “Go on, young man,” urged His Lordship.

  “However, while at the church, the young woman there told me her father, the parson, had recently succumbed to the curse of dementia. Given his habit for performing secret and sometimes unadvisable marriages, and her father writing in his own peculiar shorthand, this had caused her some difficulty in later producing accurate records and verifying details. She also told me that months before, a young woman she recognized as Miss Picard arrived at the parsonage, asking to see one of the ledgers. The young lady was visibly distraught, having learned from a newspaper of the drowning of her husband. The daughter, wishing to give her privacy in her moment of grief, left the parsonage to do a bit of shopping, and returned only to see the young lady leave again in tears. Only months later, when she realized her father was suffering periods of confusion and increasingly telling parishoners he had no recollection of them, did she realize what might have transpired. Only when she went to the Deavall estate to inquire about Miss Picard, she was told the young lady had left their employ and subsequently died. After she repaired the document that I presented to her, I…traveled there myself and they confirmed the tragic news.”

  “Why did you never tell the families?” asked Lady Margaretta, her eyes wide and pleading.

  “You were already so consumed by your grief, as I assumed Miss Picard’s family to be grieving as well. I made the decision not to increase the tragedy tenfold by revealing such sad details. Only now I am so sorry. I had no idea there was a child. I shall forever try to make it up to little Michael. I made a grievous mistake.”