The Earl of Kent: A League of Rogues Novel and a Wicked Earls’ Club Novel

by Smith, Lauren

  “I would imagine Mr. Boucher plays a clever game of chess. Am I right?”

  “You are,” Phillip said with a chuckle. “Marcus is more of a billiards man.”

  “You still play, then?” she asked, leaning forward.

  “No, not of late.” He let her make the first move before he spoke again. “I closed up much of the house after… Well, the accident. It was much harder to move about between all the rooms.”

  Ella flinched at the word accident. They both knew that it had been no accident, no matter what the public at large had been told.

  “I’m glad the man responsible is dead,” Ella said, knowing she sounded cold and vicious. But she was glad. She would have killed that man herself had she been able to. Hugo Waverly had been the orchestrator of so many misfortunes among her family and friends. And the man Phillip had lost to at cards, Daniel Sheffield, had been Hugo’s right-hand man in all of his horrible schemes. Yet Daniel still lived, and he’d even saved Charles from drowning in the frozen Thames. But even knowing that, she still hated that man for the pain he’d caused.

  Phillip moved his piece, playing her in silence, but the silence was different than the last time they had been alone. When he’d left her in the library at Charles’s house, heartbroken, that had been a stifling silence, a suffocating one.

  “If I had listened to Graham, I never would’ve lost that last hand of cards,” he said. “I almost got your brother killed that night. I don’t know how you don’t hate me.” His eyes sought hers, and she trembled, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

  “I could never hate you.” Her mouth suddenly turned dry. I could never hate you, because despite everything, I still love you, she silently added.

  They played long into the night, laughing about their mutual friends and stories from their youths. More than once their gazes met and held, and her body yearned for something more—and his did too, judging from the desire in his eyes. But they kept a distance, maintaining the pretense of a tenuous new friendship.

  When she was finally exhausted, she rose and started toward the connecting door. Phillip reached out and caught her hand in his, and just like that, she was unable to deny how much she wanted him to kiss her…to do so much more with her. She stood still, her body humming, her mouth tongue-tied as he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a soft, meaningful kiss to the inside of her wrist against her rapidly beating pulse.

  “Will you come with me to Lord Pembroke’s estate tomorrow?” she asked, her words tumbling from her lips.

  “If I come, it’s on one condition,” he replied, his voice almost as smooth as the wine she’d had with dinner.

  “Name it and I will see it done,” she promised. Whatever he demanded, she would make sure he had his wish.

  “A kiss.” His demand echoed her own from five years ago. Her heart skidded to a stop. Elation and excitement rushed through her, only to be tempered by logic and reason.

  “Why would you wish for that?” she asked, breathless.

  “Because I owed one long ago to a friend and never paid it.”

  “It’s a debt then? Nothing more?” Her heart hurt all over again.

  He shook his head slowly as he stood, bracing one hand on the chair arm. “Because I wanted it then and never took it. Now…now I can’t deny myself the kiss I should have taken then.”

  She swallowed hard. “What about the kiss the night of my debut? Was that not repayment?”

  Phillip shook his head again. “That was a lesson. This is another kiss entirely. Allow me to show you the difference.”

  He beckoned her closer, and she came to him, drawn by a force that seemed written in the stars. He wound an arm around her waist and cupped her cheek with his other hand. Ella leaned into him, and his heady scent, like smoke and dark woods, lulled her under a hypnotic spell. She had dreamed of this moment, as foolish as that sounded, and now it was coming true.

  Their eyes met and held as he gave her time to change her mind, but she answered him only by closing her eyes and waiting for him to kiss her.

  “Part your lips, darling.”

  She did, and almost at once he took her. The kiss was hard, raw, and wickedly carnal. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth in a singularly erotic fashion that mimicked the play their bodies could have. Heat pooled between her thighs, and she whimpered and clutched his shoulders as her legs buckled. She was a breathless girl of fifteen all over again, yet this time, he was kissing her. And this kiss was the only one they might ever have. A tiny glow inside her burned with hope and bittersweet joy because she knew that she would at least have this memory of him. This was the Phillip he had been before his injuries had broken him.

  Phillip’s hand locked behind her spine, keeping her a willing captive to him. Her body tingled as he nibbled at her lips, biting them and licking away the sting before he kissed her all over again. It was almost punishing and angry, as if the years of frustration and desire held at bay were bursting free at last. All too soon he stopped. Their mouths parted, and they both panted softly, their breath mingling as he pressed his forehead to hers. Her lips burned in the aftermath, and she imagined his must as well. He licked his lips, his eyes half-closed. Kissing him with such reckless abandon had been intimate, yet now, holding each other in the aftermath seemed infinitely more so. His blue eyes, now a deep indigo in the lamplit bedchamber, swept over her face.

  “You really should consider giving lessons in seduction. Ladies would pay for that.” Her mind was still a bit fuzzy, and she felt both tired and a little giddy.

  “There’s only one person I would ever consider teaching.” He kissed the tip of her nose and then let her go. She didn’t move, didn’t blink.

  “So teach me. Teach me the ways of seduction.”

  Phillip’s lust-filled gaze cleared a little. “What?”

  “Teach me,” she repeated. “I am twenty, Phillip. My marriage prospects are all but gone. I am on the proverbial shelf, or so I am told. I am tired, so tired of waiting for a man to notice me. I’ve decided it’s up to me to find joy and pleasure. I want to find that with you, and I think… I hope…you feel the same. Won’t you teach me what you know? We can be careful.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, so long she feared he would turn her down. “I’m not fit to teach you. I don’t think—”

  “You are,” she insisted.

  She realized she had pushed him too far tonight in her demands, so she instead kissed him with a delicate brush of her lips.

  “Please think about it.” She then left for the secret passage and returned to her bedchamber. She crawled into her bed and extinguished the lamp and lay down. Had she been too brazen making such a demand? Only tomorrow would tell.

  * * *

  Phillip touched his lips with his fingertips. He could still taste her, still feel her. Ella had challenged him in more ways than one tonight. She reminded him of the man he had once been. A man of passion and purpose. A man unbroken. Did she still see that man within him? He scraped a hand over his jaw, thinking. He leaned on the chair as he contemplated his choices.

  He could stay here and let her go on alone to Pembroke’s ball. If he did that, he’d fade into bleak despair forever.

  Or…he could risk everything on one last chance of happiness by going with her.

  He closed his eyes, relishing the kiss and the way she had looked up at him, as though he were a hero, a warrior come to save her—not that she needed saving. Though Ella was capable of taking care of herself, he wanted to charge in to her rescue anyway. She wanted him to seduce her, to compromise her—in secret, of course. Could he do that? Could he play the scoundrel?

  It wasn’t as though he was truly taking advantage of her, was it? She knew what she was asking; she knew the risks and consequences.

  Phillip licked his lips, tasting her sweetness again, and made up his mind. He summoned Boucher and apologized for the lateness of the hour.

  “Have my coach made ready at dawn. Have Mar
cus pack my valises for a week and the cook prepare a large basket of food for Lady Ella, Marcus, and myself.”

  “I assume you are going to Lord Pembroke’s estate?” his butler inquired.

  “You assume correctly.” He waited to see if his butler would bring up the fact that he and Ella were traveling without a chaperone.

  But all Boucher said was “Should I send Cora as Lady Ella’s maid?”

  “Yes, yes, good thinking. Thank you, Boucher.”

  “Of course, my lord. I’ll see it done.”

  “Thank you.” Phillip bent to retrieve his cane from the floor and used it to walk over to the bed, but he found he only needed to use it a little.

  His body was still wound up with excitement after kissing Ella. Kissing her the way he’d dreamed about for years. Perhaps it was that which powered him through. He set the cane against the side table by his bed, removed his trousers, and eased into his bed. He stared down at his leg, particularly at the spot where there were heavy scars on the shin, where the bone had broken through. His leg was not crooked, but it was weaker. He rubbed the muscles, gritting his teeth at the knot of pain, but he kept at it until he was too exhausted to keep going. He didn’t want to fail Ella, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t want to fail himself either.

  8

  The following morning, Ella stepped out into the courtyard between the two gatehouses and blinked in surprise to find Phillip dressed and ready to leave. She’d thought perhaps after last night he wouldn’t come. Yet there he was, eyes glinting with amusement at her astonishment.

  He looked dashing in buff trousers and an indigo waistcoat. A greatcoat hung around his shoulders, only adding to the handsome picture he presented. Beyond him a large traveling coach stood ready. Marcus and Cora were helping the driver secure several valises to the back of the coach. The morning sky was still a watery gray as the sun failed to penetrate the heavy snow clouds that had gathered above them.

  Phillip greeted her with a smile as she reached him. “Good morning.”

  She smiled back, but a sudden bout of nerves made her tremble. Had she really asked him to tutor her in seduction last night? The reality of that moment was now a little daunting in the cold light of day.

  “Come now, don’t be shy,” Phillip teased. “That is your first lesson.” He offered her his free arm, and they joined the servants by the coach. “I had Marcus and Cora fetch some novels from the library for us to read.”

  He helped her inside and climbed in after her, using his hands to brace himself until he sat across from her. She was careful not to offer assistance lest he view it as pity. During their talk the previous night, she’d sensed that pity was the last thing he wanted or needed. Phillip removed his black calf leather gloves and tucked them into the pocket of his coat as they waited for Marcus and Cora to join them.

  Once the coach was pulling out of the drive, Marcus immediately fell asleep in one corner after a busy night of preparations. Cora pulled out a basket of food and provided everyone else a breakfast of fresh oranges, bread, and cheese.

  “You have oranges?” It was rare to have such treasures.

  “My gardeners keep a hothouse, and we have half a dozen orange trees inside. They manage to grow them year-round.” Phillip smiled as he peeled one. Ella did the same, relishing the sweet fruit as she slipped a slice into her mouth.

  Cora began to mend an item of clothing to pass the time, and soon Ella was lost in conversation with Phillip. It was so easy to talk with him. When he was distracted from his injuries, he was quite amiable, much like he’d been five years ago.

  He told her about times that he and Graham had gotten in trouble while they were studying at Eton, and she laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes. Then he pressed her for details about her youth.

  “Honestly, there isn’t much to tell, what with Charles and Graham watching over me. But…”

  “But?” Phillip pressed.

  “Now I’m involved with a group of ladies who help one another pursue their passions.”

  “Passions? Consider me intrigued.”

  “Well,” Ella said as she leaned in closer to whisper, “it’s called the Society of Rebellious Ladies.”

  “I do love a good rebellious lady.” Phillip’s wolfish smile was also strangely tender at the same time. It was roguishly charming.

  “And we certainly are that. Do you know Lysandra Russell?”

  “The Marquess of Rochester’s younger sister? Yes, she’s rather charmingly eccentric.”

  “She’s a dear friend of mine. The Society of Rebellious Ladies has been aiding her in sneaking into meetings for the new Astronomical Society of London which was founded last year. She’s hoping to discover a comet, you see.”

  “Fascinating. How on earth do you sneak her into those meetings?”

  “Lysa’s so clever, but the men in the society don’t wish to publish her findings. So we’ve done all we can to help her establish herself under a masculine pseudonym. So far we’ve had excellent luck. She’s had two papers published in the last four months, and she’s been able to attend the meetings…dressed as a man, thanks to Audrey St. Laurent’s talent for disguises, of course.”

  “Of course.” Phillip started laughing. “Lord, your society sounds like a formidable lot.”

  “Threatened?” Ella teased and gently prodded his leg with the toe of one of her boots.

  “Not at all. Admiring is what I am. My mother was interested in astronomy. My father always wished she could have studied it alongside gentlemen who shared her passion. She would have loved to hear that a society to study it has been formed.”

  Ella tilted her head. “Your mother sounds like an amazing woman. I wish I could have met her.”

  “She would have liked you.”

  They continued to talk most of the day. The coach stopped a few times for them to see to their needs and have a quick meal and see to the horses before they continued. As the light vanished from outside and evening set in, the coach suddenly rolled to a stop, and Phillip sat up, puzzled. He opened the coach door. A heavy cloud of snow swirled inside, making everyone gasp and laugh. Marcus jolted awake, cursing at the cold before he realized he’d cursed in front of ladies and made a hasty apology.

  “Everything all right, Henry?” he called to the driver.

  “The snow is falling heavier, m’lord. We may need to stop early, leastways so I know where we are if it keeps snowing.”

  “What’s the next town?” Phillip asked.

  “Should be Aylesford, m’lord.”

  “Do you believe we can make it?”

  “I believe so,” Henry called down.

  “Carry on as best you can.” Phillip closed the coach door, letting in a second small snowstorm that made Ella laugh and Cora gasp and cover her mending. Phillip merely chuckled.

  “Phillip, what if we become trapped?” The skies were darkening, and she feared for them all if the snow became too deep.

  “Don’t worry. Henry has been driving my coach for years, and he’s a smart man. He’ll get us to Aylesford.”

  Ella tried to distract herself with small talk. “I’ve never been there. Is it very pretty?”

  “Yes, I think it is. ’Tis an old town.” Phillip played with his cane, brushing his thumb over the silver knob. “It’s an old Norman village with a church tower built into a steep walled bank along a river. Once we get closer, you will see the jumbled rooftops of the town staggered down the hillside where a large, regal bridge spans the river Medway.” A smile curved his lips. “I took Graham fishing on the Medway once, when we were just leaving university. Not a bad spot to catch fish in the summer.”

  “It sounds lovely.”

  “It is. The bridge is old too. Legend has it the Romans and even the ancient Britons before them used it. Of course, the bridge itself is not that old, but where it stands, many men and women have used that spot to ford the river.”

  “That makes sense,” Ella said, then yawned. It nev
er ceased to amaze her that one could become tired from riding in a coach all day.

  “You should rest,” Phillip suggested. There was a softness in his voice that made her feel oddly vulnerable.

  “I can never sleep in coaches,” she admitted.

  “Nonsense. You’ve never done the thing properly. Marcus, switch places with Lady Ella.” Marcus moved easily into her spot as she sat down next to Phillip. “Now, rest your head upon my shoulder. It makes for a better pillow than the side of the coach.”

  Ella hesitated a moment, then rested her head against his shoulder. She nuzzled the sleeve of his greatcoat as she sought the most comfortable position, and before she was aware of it, she drifted off to sleep.

  She woke an hour or so later and found the coach had stopped.

  “Ella, darling, I fear we must get out and walk. The coach is trapped in the snow. But we are nearly there.” Phillip cupped her cheek and stroked her skin with the tips of his gloved fingers.

  “Oh…” She sat up, stretching, and then his words sank in. “We’re trapped?”

  “The snow continued to fall too fast. Henry got us to the bridge at Aylesford. It’s a bit of a walk to the nearest inn. About half a mile. Will you manage?”

  “Yes.” She followed him out of the coach. It was dark now, and she was worried whether he would be able to make the distance with his leg.

  “What about the horses?” She stared at the patient beasts as they huffed and pawed in the darkness.

  “Don’t be worrying about them, miss,” Henry promised. “Once his lordship gets to the inn, he’ll send a few men back to help me and Marcus.”

  “He’s right,” Phillip assured her. “It’s important to get you and Cora to the inn and warmed up.” He started forward, the lights of Aylesford flickering in the distant snowy gloom.

  Cora and Ella followed on either side of him, and Ella watched Phillip’s movements, afraid he might fall in the snow.

  “In 455, warrior mercenaries fought Vortigern, king of the Britons, on these lands,” Phillip explained as they walked.