Taking the Earl (Heiress Games Book 3)

by Sara Ramsey

  Or he would lose Lucy. It was what he deserved. But he’d rather face the gallows than find out he’d lost her forever.

  “One job at a time, Max,” he whispered to himself, taking another breath. He straightened his shoulders. He reminded himself that he was an adult, quite possibly an earl, and in the middle of a plan that could save everyone he loved.

  Then he opened the door.

  The first person he saw was Lucy. She sat behind her grandfather’s desk like a general reviewing battle plans. But her version of a red coat was ruby silk, cut low over her décolletage in dramatic contrast to her pale skin.

  His mouth went dry. He forgot everything about the job he was supposed to be doing.

  She looked up. Her smile, when she realized it was him, was as radiant as any he’d seen from her.

  He saw the future in that smile. He could almost believe that she would forgive him. He might not even have to grovel for leaving her.

  Then her smile faded and her eyes filled with worry. “Did you forget something, Lord Maidenstone?”

  You, he wanted to say.

  But the room was full of people. Ferguson stood at the fireplace. Octavia, Rafe, Thorington, and Callie sat together, angled so that they could see the man who had blighted so many of Max’s years.

  Durrant sat in a chair slightly away from the rest of them. He wore a tailored suit with a gold watch chain and a diamond-tipped pin on his coat — little touches that made him seem like an aristocrat rather than a criminal.

  But Max saw the curl of Durrant’s lip and the cold, flinty look in his eyes. The magistrate knew how to play his role. He’d likely been pleasant, possibly even subservient, to the aristocrats in the room.

  Max wouldn’t get the same treatment.

  So he looked at Durrant, let shock play out over his face, and blurted out, “Durrant! What are you doing here? I can’t believe you thought you could play your usual tricks on a group as powerful as this one. You should’ve stayed in London where your friends can protect you.”

  Durrant’s mask slipped a little. But he’d had plenty of acting practice over the years. Running a criminal gang while pretending to be an upstanding magistrate wasn’t possible without a good deal of cunning. “Don’t pretend with me, you miserable thief,” Durrant said. “I didn’t think you’d come back to the scene of your latest crime, but I’m glad you did. It’s past time you paid for all your misdeeds.”

  Max shook his head as though nothing Durrant said could surprise him. Then he walked over to Lucy and kissed her hand. “I didn’t forget anything, my love. I came back as soon as I got your message that someone had robbed Maidenstone.”

  She tilted her head slightly, but her understanding was immediate. She gave him a sharp look that said she wasn’t done with him, then she heaved a sigh as though she was tremendously relieved to see him. “I am so grateful that you’ve changed your travel plans, my lord. Mr. Durrant has offered to help locate the thief, but I knew you wouldn’t want me to take any action without you. I was trying to delay him until you returned to make a decision for me.”

  Ferguson snorted. “That’s not quite in character, Lucy.”

  She shot the duke a look before returning her attention to Max. “Durrant is a London magistrate on holiday in Salcombe. Thorington met him at the inn and Durrant was quite interested in helping us with our difficulties. Isn’t that convenient?”

  “Too convenient,” Max said, glancing at Durrant. “Did it occur to any of you to wonder why he’s gone so far afield for a holiday? Or why he arrived here immediately after I left?”

  Durrant frowned. “I’ll be the one asking the questions, Vale. If you want to keep your head, you’ll cooperate.”

  “It is rather illogical for Durrant to come to Salcombe on holiday,” Ferguson agreed. “The Briarleys are the only entertainment in the area. He couldn’t have possibly hoped for an invitation to Maidenstone.”

  Max sighed as though it pained him to speak. “As soon as I walked in the room and saw that he was here, I knew where you should look for your jewels. Durrant never would have dared to come here while I was in residence. He must have been watching for my departure so he could smear my good name. It’s his usual tactic — set someone else up for a theft he committed and have them executed for his crimes.”

  Durrant stared at him. Max saw all the menace that had kept him under Durrant’s thumb during his childhood. The look in his eyes said that he would make Max pay for this — slowly and with a lot of pain.

  But Max wouldn’t cower this time. He had resources. He had family who would help him.

  And he had Lucy, if he could convince her to marry him. She was looking at him with a little smile on her face that said he could probably have everything if he played his cards right.

  That smile gave him all the encouragement he needed. He turned to Ferguson. “Durrant is notorious in the East End. Unlike most of the other magistrates, he’s thoroughly corrupt. Search his room at the inn if you don’t believe me. I’d wager that you’ll find everything he took. I’m just lucky that Lucy sent me a message before his lies could take hold here.”

  “This is outrageous,” Durrant spluttered. “I already told you that Vale is a thief. I know all about him from London. This isn’t the first crime he’s committed.”

  Thorington hadn’t said anything yet, but he didn’t seem quite as convinced by Max’s story — or as willing to play along — as the rest of them. He looked at Lucy. “Didn’t your butler find a spoon in Miss Vale’s maid’s belongings? Is there any chance she was the thief?”

  Ferguson and Lucy both glared at Thorington. Callie kicked his ankle. Thorington held up his hands. “I don’t care if we have to shoot the magistrate — he seems like a most unpleasant man. But I want to know what really happened before we do.”

  Thorington’s brother Rafe coughed. “If we’re shooting people for theft, be careful with your accusations.”

  “What does that mean?” Thorington asked.

  “It was our fault that the spoon disappeared.”

  Thorington laughed. “Neither of us were here when it disappeared.”

  “Precisely,” Rafe said. “Our dear brother Anthony saw Vale show up to claim the earldom and realized that we’d lose our chances to inherit if Ferguson decided Vale was the earl. You were at the inn refusing to answer the door, I was similarly engaged in Exeter, and Anthony was at a loss for what to do. Apparently he decided to implicate Miss Vale’s maid in a crime, hoping that it would stall Vale’s claim long enough for us to return.”

  Thorington rolled his eyes. “I suppose we should just be glad he didn’t burn the house down to ‘save’ it for us. I’ll speak to him about devising better plots in the future.” He turned to Max. “My apologies. Carry on with your inquisition, Vale.”

  Durrant surged to his feet. “Your graces, lords, ladies, this is an outrage. I am one of the longest-serving magistrates in London. I’ve seen Vale pass through my courts a dozen times. I am mortally offended that you will not take my word over that of a thief.”

  It was a swift, impassioned speech — the kind that could turn a room to his side in an instant. They all stared at him. Max held his breath.

  Then Octavia said, “If Vale has passed through your courts so many times, how is he still alive? Were you keeping him alive to frame him for a crime like this?”

  Durrant’s face paled. “I would tell you to search my rooms, but you’ll probably find the jewels there. Vale had time to plant them while I was here.”

  Max sighed. “I’d wager you left more evidence than that. And with your reputation, you probably wouldn’t like being held at Newgate while the crime was investigated.”

  Max wasn’t sure whether he could convince anyone to take Durrant all the way to Newgate for a crime committed in Devonshire — but he needed to resolve things now. And the best way to resolve things to his satisfaction was to make Durrant very, very scared.

  The look in Durrant’s eyes said he’d s
ucceeded. “You’re bluffing,” Durrant said. “I have more power in London than you can possibly imagine.”

  “That’s interesting,” Ferguson said, adjusting his cuffs. “So do I.”

  “You have power, but I’m ruthless,” Thorington said to Ferguson.

  Rafe couldn’t let that go without contest. “I’m not a duke, but I’m crafty. You’d be surprised how easily I could make someone disappear.”

  Max shook his head. In a way, he almost felt sorry for Durrant. The aristocratic world was so unlike theirs. A duke probably couldn’t get away with murder — but the men in this room had so much power, both legally and socially, that they could accomplish almost anything they desired. Durrant had been a bully in the East End; in this world, he could easily become a victim.

  But Durrant deserved what was coming to him.

  “I’ll go back to London on the first stage,” Durrant said, striding to the door. “Good luck with this thief of yours.”

  When he opened it, Claxton stood outside. He gave no indication that he had been listening, but he barred the door as though he’d guessed what would happen.

  Ferguson, meanwhile, cleared his throat and looked at Max. “Are you doing something stupid?” he asked.

  Max nodded. “But I have very good reason, your grace.”

  Ferguson smiled. Then he clapped Thorington on the shoulder. “Let’s go to the inn and see what we can find in Durrant’s room. I always enjoy routing villains.”

  Thorington brushed invisible lint off his coat where Ferguson had touched him. “If I’d known I’d still be plagued by you, I might not have married Callie.”

  His wife laughed. “Careful, sirrah. We might find the missing jewels in your room instead.”

  They all knew that Max was framing Durrant. But, oddly, none of them seemed to care. They filed out of the study, Durrant in front of them like he was being herded to his own funeral.

  Octavia was the last to go. She turned back and said, “Grandfather would be proud of both of you, I think. I’ll tell Claxton not to disturb you.”

  She winked before she closed the door. Silence reigned for a moment as Max looked down at Lucy. There was so much he wanted to say — so much he needed to say.

  He’d always thought that the day he was free of Durrant would be the best day of his life. Now, with victory at hand, he realized that overcoming the enemies of his past paled in comparison to building a future with the woman he loved.

  “Do you want to go with them?” she asked, nodding toward the door. “Do you need to supervise events at the inn to make sure Durrant is implicated?”

  Max leaned against the edge of the desk, his leg brushing her knee. Just a touch was enough to center him in this moment. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”

  She looked up at him. Their gazes met. Her dark eyes were clear, without a trace of fear.

  “You look beautiful behind this desk,” he blurted out.

  He felt like an idiot as soon as he said it. What kind of man complimented a woman on how she looked behind a desk? He should have said something about her eyes, or her smile — or even her breasts, which were increasingly all he could think about.

  She smiled. “I’m glad,” she said. “Because you owe me approximately a thousand apologies. I thought you could start by kissing me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  She couldn’t believe she’d said it. But when he had leaned against her desk, muscles and manhood bulging against his riding breeches, she wanted all of him. And in this new world, she was going to ask for what she wanted — whether it was perfect or not.

  Luckily, it was easy to ask Max for what she wanted. He looked at her like he thought she was perfect regardless of what she said.

  And he may have been a thief, but he wasn’t stupid. When he got an invitation like that, he wasn’t going to refuse it.

  He pulled her out of the chair and into his arms. “I’ll give you every apology and more,” he said, his voice entirely serious. “I deserve to be flayed alive for leaving you.”

  “That’s a little too dramatic,” she said, then gasped suddenly as he kissed a sensitive point on her neck. “Anyway, the medieval torture racks are one of the only things we’ve gotten rid of.”

  “You don’t need a torture rack,” he murmured, stringing kisses along her jaw before taking her earlobe between his teeth. “Denying me would be punishment enough.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “But then I would be punished too. I can’t accept that.”

  He laughed. Then he picked her up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. He kept kissing her even as he walked forward. She realized, when she finally came up for air, that he was closing the curtains behind the desk.

  “What’s your plan, my lord?” she asked.

  “I’m glad you asked, my lady,” he said, kissing her again before closing another curtain. “I was going to make love to you on the desk….”

  He trailed off, claiming her mouth. She moaned as his tongue entered her. For once she reveled in the sound. She sounded like a wanton — but there was nowhere she would rather be and nothing she would rather do.

  Max had other ideas. He turned and placed her on the desk so that her derriere was perched on the edge. He dropped to one knee, skimming his hand down her leg, and she was already hot, already dreaming of what he would do with his mouth.

  Then he took her hand, looked up, and said, “But before I make love to you, I need to say something.”

  She looked down at him. Any disappointment her body felt at being thwarted was more than made up for by the sudden flutter of her heart as she recognized the smolder in his eyes.

  “I knew as soon as I’d left that I’d made a mistake,” he said, his voice low. “Before that, even. I think I knew from the moment I met you that you were the only treasure at Maidenstone worth having. I love you, more than I ever dreamed possible, and I was so bloody scared of losing you that my only thought was to keep you safe.”

  “I know,” she said. Her heart leaped when he said he loved her, but she didn’t need to hear it. Sensible or not, she already knew it — and she knew what she wanted. “You can kiss me again now.”

  He laughed. “Not yet. I don’t want you to take me back now, only to regret it the first time we fight about something else. You were right when you said you wouldn’t run away with me.”

  “I was?” she asked. “I didn’t feel right. After you were gone, it felt like I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.”

  He smiled crookedly. “I shouldn’t be happy to know that we would have both been miserable forever, but it is a bit of comfort.”

  She nudged his chest with her foot, teasing him. “I take it back. I was definitely right when I said I wouldn’t run away with you.”

  He laughed, sliding his hand up her ankle to toy with her garter. She felt it slide away this time, but she was distracted by the way his gaze turned solemn. “Mind you, I wish you’d run away with me,” he said. “But you were right. You said you couldn’t put faith in my promises when I had one foot on the road.”

  She didn’t want to remember that. She didn’t feel that way anymore, not when he’d just come back to her.

  But he seemed determined to say what was on his mind, so she nodded. “If you don’t have a foot on the road anymore, I will gladly put all of my faith in you.”

  He sat back on his heels, still looking tortured even though she’d agreed with him. “I only had my foot on the road because I thought it was best for you. But I realized, almost too late, that it was unfair of me to decide both our fates with only my half of the knowledge. I can’t vow that I’ll never leave — we may still have to run if something else gets dredged up from my past. But I will vow, for the rest of my days, that any decisions we make will be made together.”

  Something about his tone finally broke through her last defenses. She suddenly realized that she had been reacting as she always did — minimizing her feelings, shutting down to
avoid the pain that might come later. She’d been listening, but not listening — protecting herself again without even noticing that she was doing it.

  Her breath caught in her throat. She looked down into his eyes and saw everything there — the future they could have together, strengthened by the bond they shared. That bond would only deepen over time as their days and lives intertwined. It would support both of them through anything that came their way. Unlike the prison she’d built for herself, so constrained by grief and loss that she couldn’t see any other way to live, this bond could be a foundation for anything she chose to become.

  They could have any future they wanted.

  But only if she had the courage to accept it.

  She slid off the desk and into his arms. “I accept your vow, Max. And I promise, no matter what may come for us, that I’ll embrace our life with joy instead of fear. I would rather choose this life, with you, than live any other life alone.”

  He kissed her again — slow, warm, reverent. The moment felt sacred. She wanted to remember all of it — the feel of his hands, the scrape of his day-old beard, the scent of leather and the sea.

  They made love on the floor — not on the desk, as he’d planned, but it felt more decadent to lie beneath him on a rug, with her silk dress spilling all around them. He took his time with her. She let him worship — there was no urgency, no need to protect herself, no feeling that this might be the end.

  This was the very beginning of their story. And when she finally came underneath him, when he spilled himself inside her and collapsed into her arms, she knew it was going to be the best story she’d ever heard.

  “We should try that in a bed sometime,” he said, when he’d rolled off her and caught his breath.

  “I don’t know — we seem to be doing fine in unexpected locations.”

  He laughed. “Just as well. If you want to run off to the Caribbean and be a pirate queen, we’ll need to be creative in our escapades.”

  She smiled, curling her hand over his heart. “I don’t need to be a pirate queen anymore. Being beside you is enough.”