Counterfeit Earl

by Anne Herries

  would not recur in his son. To protect that unborn child and Olivia from such horror, he knew that

  he must resist the urgings of his flesh.

  Better that he should suffer a thousand torments than that his touch should defile Olivia. For he

  loved her desperately. At first he had been merely caught by her naughty smiles, but her bravery

  and her honesty had won respect from him. He knew now without a shadow of a doubt that he had

  found a rare jewel in the woman he had taken to wife.

  The pain washed over him in waves. He was torn with remorse and anguish for the hurt he was

  causing Olivia. She deserved so much more than he could give her.

  He had thought by marrying her to save her from the slights of others, but now he understood that

  she would have been strong enough to bear the cruel gossip and scandal which would have

  resulted from her being left at the church. What he had done was far worse!

  He had robbed her of the chance to love and be loved, of the chance of having a child.

  What could he do to make amends? Jack was tormented by the knowledge that nothing he could

  give Olivia would replace what he had stolen from her by marrying her under false pretences.

  Why had he done it? Was it truly only to save her from the humiliation of being jilted? Or was

  there another darker reason? Had he followed his own selfish desires? His honesty forced him to

  admit that he wanted her for his own. Even now, his flesh burned for her. His senses screamed out

  that he should go to her, make her his own.

  No, no, he could not, must not give way to his selfish desires!

  He should ride away this very night, give Olivia grounds for an annulment...yet even as the thought

  came into his mind he dismissed it. He did not want to give her up. Being with her tore him apart,

  but he had not the strength to leave her.

  She had played for him that evening, singing popular ditties in her clear, high voice, some of

  which were a little wicked and had made him raise his brows at her. If he left her now there

  would be little chance of either of them finding happiness. Olivia would not marry again; he knew

  it instinctively, as he knew there could never be another woman for him.

  There must be a way out of this dilemma! Jack had been going over and over the situation in his

  mind. Perhaps if he were careful, if he could make certain that there was never a child...but he

  would need to tell Olivia the truth. He could not deceive her. How would she feel if he told her

  that there was a chance her husband might descend into madness? Would she turn from him in

  horror? Surely she would hate him for what he had done to her?

  Yet if Stanhope's madness had come upon him for another reason...perhaps some foul disease had

  rotted his brain? If he could be sure that there was no danger of the sickness being passed on

  through Jack's blood...

  Damn the man who had given him life! Anger and hatred stirred in his breast. His father had never

  once shown him affection. Nor if he were truthful had his mother. Servants had cared for Jack all

  his life, only Sir Joshua making the attempt to know him—though perhaps the Earl had done so

  once.

  There had been an occasion when the Earl had found him playing in the garden with a wooden

  sword. He had asked if Jack wanted to be a soldier. He had smiled and touched the boy's head

  gently...and then Lady Stanhope had come and the Earl had turned away, his face an impassive

  mask once more.

  Jack dismissed the memory. It could not matter now. The Earl had lied to him by omission all

  these years. He should have told Jack the truth about this curse long since.

  Jack was angry with his grandfather. Why had the Earl told him it was his duty to marry for the

  sake of the family? Surely it was better that the madness should die with Jack?

  The tortured thoughts went round and round in his mind as he abandoned his glass, the remains of

  the golden liquid still clinging to the sides, and made his way up to his bedchamber. He paused

  outside the door, hesitating before going inside. It might be better if he were to use his old rooms,

  yet that would be to insult Olivia...to make her the butt of the servants' jokes.

  No, he would not offer her more slights. Besides, what difference if there was but one door

  between them or several? He would suffer as much if he were a thousand miles hence!

  Jack went inside, then stiffened. Her perfume was stronger here than it had been in the parlour.

  Had she been here? His eyes were drawn towards the bed and the rose that lay on his pillow.

  Frowning, he crossed the room in quick strides, snatching up both note and rose.

  'Sweet dreams, my friend,' Olivia had written. 'I shall dream of you, dearest Jack.'

  Jack was torn between laughter and tears. She was indeed the minx he had named her! If only he

  could go through that door and claim her as his own. He moved towards the door that led through

  to her bedchamber, his thoughts feverish with longing.

  No! No, he would not give into his carnal desires! That would be a wicked act, to destroy the

  woman he would honour above all others. He was strong enough to resist her. And if the time

  came when he could not, he must leave her.

  Cursing softly, Jack turned the key locking the door that separated them. There must be no surprise

  visits from Olivia, for if he were to wake and find her lying by his side he did not think he would

  be strong enough to send her away.

  * * *

  'I believe you have seen everything now, milady,' Mrs Jenkins said the following morning after an

  extensive tour of the house. 'If you wish to make changes with the way things are run, you have

  only to say. Sir Joshua left most things to me.'

  'And so shall I,' Olivia replied with a smile. 'I may make small changes from time to time, but I

  have never had the charge of a house such as this, Mrs Jenkins. I shall rely on you to tell me how

  things ought properly to be done.'

  'Yes, milady. You may rely on me.' The housekeeper looked well pleased. 'Those cream drapes

  we discovered will go beautifully around the four-poster bed in his lordship's chamber. I shall

  have the maids hang them directly.'

  'Yes, please do. I shall come up later to see how they look.'

  Olivia left the housekeeper to go about her business and made her way to the pretty parlour at the

  back of the house, which she had decided to make her own. It had long French windows leading

  out on to the lawns and the rose gardens. She opened them and went out, feeling pleased that the

  weather had brightened considerably. There was no sign of rain, and the sun was beginning to

  peep through the clouds.

  She began to walk about the gardens, pausing to inhale the perfume of a dark red bloom, then

  stiffened as she heard a low growling noise.

  The dog was staring at her suspiciously, not bristling with rage as it had in the woods the day she

  had first seen Jack, but uneasy and ready to pounce if she made a wrong move. Olivia took a deep

  breath as she told herself not to panic. What had Jack called the beast? Ah yes, she remembered

  now.

  'Sit, Brutus!' she said in a tone of command. 'Good dog. Sit!'

  To Olivia's absolute amazement, Brutus obeyed instantly. She stared at him for a moment or two,

  hardly daring to breathe. What ought she to do now? Would he spring up to impede her passage if

  she walked away?


  This just would not do! Olivia realised that she had no choice but to establish a relationship with

  the dog. She simply could not allow Brutus to make her a prisoner of the house. Somehow she

  must conquer her nerves.

  Someone had once told her that she should never show an animal fear, and she believed it was

  true. Gathering her courage, she took a few steps towards the dog. Brutus growled low in his

  throat but remained in the sitting position she had commanded him to assume.

  'Good boy,' Olivia murmured, encouraged by his apparent obedience. She moved closer, finally

  coming to a halt inches from the dog's nose. 'I am not a gypsy, Brutus. I am your master's wife. We

  should be friends. We have his best interests at heart, do you not agree?'

  Brutus looked at her uncertainly, then wagged his tail slightly. Olivia relaxed as she saw he was

  inclined to be friendly.

  'What a good dog you are,' she said, then daringly held her hand out for him to smell. He sniffed a

  couple of times, then licked her. Olivia smiled and bent down to caress his head, tickling him

  behind the ears, something he seemed to like very much if the way his tongue lolled out was

  anything to the point. 'Yes, you are a good boy,' she said. 'Would you like to come for a walk with

  me?'

  Brutus recognised the word and barked, but the sound was joyful and not in the least hostile.

  'Yes, you would like a walk,' Olivia said, adopting the tone people normally reserved for puppies

  and small children. 'I dare say you have been waiting for ages for someone to take pity on you.

  Come along then, and afterwards we shall ask Mrs Jenkins for a nice bone for you.'

  Brutus barked his agreement and set off in front of her. He was a large dog and exuberant, but

  seemed to have accepted Olivia as his friend, running a few yards ahead of her and then returning.

  When he picked up part of a fallen branch and brought it to her, Olivia instantly understood what

  he wanted and took it from him, throwing it as hard as she could.

  'Fetch!' she cried. 'Good dog, fetch!'

  Brutus obeyed without hesitation. Olivia laughed, her fear of the huge hound disappearing as he

  deposited his precious stick at her feet once more and looked pleadingly up at her from liquid

  brown eyes.

  'What a good, clever boy you are,' she said indulgently, and threw the stick again.

  This game continued for the next half an hour, by which time Olivia was ready to return to the

  house. She led Brutus to the kitchen door, surprising her servants by entering that way with the

  hound following behind her.

  'I'll put that brute out,' the kitchen wench said and prepared to do so, but Olivia stopped her.

  'No, let him come in,' Olivia said. 'I wondered if Cook would give him a bone?'

  'Yes, of course, milady,' Cook said, bustling up to her. 'I was wishful to know if you wanted to

  make a change to the menus, milady?'

  'Not for the moment,' Olivia said. 'The roast you served last night was delicious and so were the

  sweetbreads in cream sauce. My lord particularly enjoyed those—and the trifle was delicious.

  Why do you not continue with your menus as usual for a week or two? Then I can decide what

  changes we would like to make, if any.'

  'Yes, milady.' Cook said and smiled. She glanced at the dog. 'I've not seen that brute so friendly

  with anyone except the master. Will a ham bone do for him?'

  'Yes, I think that should do very nicely,' Olivia said. 'He may take it outside so he will not be in

  your way.'

  She watched as Cook fetched the bone from the larder and showed it to the dog. He looked at it

  with anticipation, following her to the door, but then when Olivia did not accompany her, he stood

  obstinately, whining, his head turned towards her.

  'Well, I never,' Cook said. 'It seems he would rather be with you than have the bone, milady.'

  'Yes, so it does,' Olivia said and laughed, surprised and pleased by this show of devotion. 'Well,

  if one of the footmen were to bring a blanket to my parlour, I dare say he would not make so very

  much mess.'

  'You'll not bring that brute inside the house?' Cook looked astounded.

  'He is not such a brute,' Olivia said. 'I know he is a little ugly, but I like him. I think that if his

  manners are respectable we might allow him inside, don't you?'

  Cook was clearly doubtful, but Olivia was mistress and there was no gainsaying her. 'I'll ask

  Henry to bring an old blanket in to you at once, milady.'

  'Don't forget the bone,' Olivia said. 'We shall not make a habit of it. Brutus will take his meals

  here or outside, but just this once I think he may be indulged.'

  'Just as you wish,' Cook said, shaking her head as Olivia went out, followed by her shadow.

  'Well, I never. That brute allowed in the house. Sir Joshua would turn in his grave.'

  Olivia returned to her parlour and sat down in a high-backed wing chair near the fireplace. Brutus

  lay down at her feet, his head on his front paws, eyes watching her. Even when the footman came

  in a few minutes later, he did not move until she stood up and walked over to the blanket.

  'That is for you,' she said. 'For being a good dog. Do you not want it? Lie down and eat your bone,

  there's a good boy.' She walked back to the fireplace and sat down; Brutus followed, squatting at

  her feet. 'Oh, you foolish creature,' Olivia cried. 'Why do you not eat it?'

  'Because he knows it is not allowed,' said a voice from the doorway. 'Are you intending to make

  him your lapdog, Olivia? He has been reared to the outdoors, to protect this estate and its people.'

  'Ah, there you are, my lord,' Olivia said. 'They told me you had gone riding earlier. Did you enjoy

  the outing?'

  'I had business with one of my tenants,' Jack said, and sat down in the chair opposite her. 'Forgive

  me for deserting you. I trust you were not bored?'

  'How could I be bored?' Olivia asked, smiling at him. 'I have been looking over the house. I told

  you Mrs Jenkins was to take me round—do you not remember? And then, I went outside and

  Brutus found me.'

  'You told me you were terrified of dogs,' Jack said, his brows raised. 'You appear to have

  conquered your fear, Olivia.'

  'I saw that I had no choice,' she said. 'Brutus was watching me suspiciously. Had I shown I was

  nervous I should always have been at a disadvantage with him, you see. Now we are friends and I

  have no need to feel nervous if I come upon him in the grounds.'

  'From what I can see of things, he has become your shadow, Olivia,' Jack remarked with a wry

  twist of his lips. 'I beg you not to spoil him too much or he will become useless as a guard dog.'

  'I dare say you could buy another one,' Olivia said, a dimple in her cheeks. 'I have taken a fancy to

  him, Jack—may I not have him for my own?'

  'Minx!' he murmured, eyes bright with amusement. 'I dare say you will do as you please, whether I

  give my permission or not.'

  'Oh, no,' she said on a gurgle of laughter. 'I mean to be a good and obedient wife to you, Jack. I

  shall do whatever you tell me.'

  'Indeed?' He looked his disbelief. 'I take leave to doubt that, madam wife. I think you will twist the

  servants round your little finger just as you have this foolish beast. I have no doubt you have most

  of them eating out of your hand already.'

  'I think it is always best to respect the people who work for you, and to have them r
espect you—

  do you not agree, my lord?'

  'I dare say,' he said, a reluctant smile on his lips. 'So, my lady, what shall we do this afternoon?

  Would you like to go for a carriage drive—or would you prefer to ride?'

  'Have you a horse in your stable that would suit me?' Olivia asked. She smiled as he nodded.

  'Then I should like to go riding with you—if you could bear it?'

  'It is one of the pastimes we could share,' Jack said. 'I shall be pleased to show you the estate,

  Olivia.'

  'Then I shall change after nuncheon,' she said. 'I believe there is a cold collation being prepared

  for us in the breakfast parlour—if you are hungry, my lord?'

  'I dare say I could eat a few morsels,' he said, a gleam in his eyes. 'And if you continue to my lord

  me, Olivia, I shall take a stick to you! A husband is allowed to beat his wife, you know.'

  Olivia laughed, her eyes bright with challenge. 'A husband is allowed many privileges, Jack. For

  myself I would deny you none of them.'

  Jack came to her and took her hand, turning it over to kiss the palm. 'For now I shall not avail

  myself of your generosity,' he said. 'But perhaps one day...'

  'That day cannot come too soon for me,' Olivia said. 'But I find I am hungry. Pray let us eat...'

  Olivia's heart was racing. Jack's black mood seemed to have gone. He was almost the man who

  had courted her at Camberwell, the man who had flirted with her in Brighton. He had clearly

  decided that if they were to live together at all, he must offer her companionship.

  At least that was a start, Olivia thought. If they could be friends and companions, surely in time

  they could also be lovers?

  She could not guess at the hours Jack had spent wrestling with his conscience, or that this softer

  mood, which had descended on him for the moment, came from his decision to write to the Earl of

  Heggan.

  Jack knew that he must discover the truth of his father's madness or he would never find true

  peace. He must know whether Viscount Stanhope's insanity was hereditary or due to some disease

  that had come upon him. His love for Olivia was such that he had come to a difficult and painful

  decision during the long hours of the night. If indeed the madness was in his blood, he must release