Earl of Sussex: Wicked Regency Romance (Wicked Earls' Club)

by Tammy Andresen

  Her mother gave her a genuine smile. “An excellent idea. A lady should take her time with such decisions. I’m glad to see you exercising some feminine restraint.”

  Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head at the words. Restraint was the last thing she practiced when with Luke. But with a nod, she swept out of her mother’s room.

  She needed quiet to sift through her swirling thoughts. She made her way to her own suite of rooms. Entering quickly, she locked the door behind her, not wishing to be disturbed.

  Her breathing was ragged as she leaned her forehead against the wood door. Luke frightened her but Crummell might just frighten her more. Not in the same way. She’d likely be bored to death.

  “What’s wrong?” a deep rich voice spoke from just behind her.

  She jumped and made to scream, but a hand covered her mouth, another snaking around her waist. The solid mass of a man pressing against her back. His touch was gentle and she heard him chuckle. Of course it was Luke’s voice. Who else would think to enter her room uninvited? Her hands came up to his to move them away from her mouth. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I needed to speak with you before I return to London,” he rasped as his hand brushed down her neck to rest on her collarbone.

  Her nerves jumped for an entirely different reason. He’d be in London, alone, with all those beautiful ladies. “If you get caught in here, there is no escaping the marriage noose.”

  “I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want to escape.”

  “And I thought I made it clear that I was still deciding and you made it clear that you would allow me to do so.” Irritation bubbled inside her and she turned in his arms to tell him just that.

  But looking at him made productive conversation so difficult. Especially when Luke dipped his head to capture her lips. She was breathless by the time he lifted it again. “No one will find us, love. I promise.”

  “What are you doing here?” she repeated.

  “I thought I told you already.” One of his eyebrows shifted up as he brushed his thumb across her puffy lips.

  “Obviously, I found your answer insufficient,” she attempted to huff, but it came out breathy.

  He searched her eyes, his own soft. “Since trust seems to be our biggest obstacle, I feared you would worry over our separation. I wanted to assure you, privately, that there is no need to fret. I will not so much as look at another woman until I see you on Friday.”

  She took a breath. Much as she appreciated his words, they did little to quell her real fears and her questions tumbled out. “What is happening Friday? What about after Friday? How would I even know you kept your promise?”

  His lips covered hers in a breathless kiss that made her forget the rest of the questions bubbling inside which was likely his intent. Then he slowly raised his head. “Friday is the masquerade ball. You will be in attendance and I will make sure to be as well. Only you can decide if you can trust me this week and the weeks that follow. But I swear to you, Tabbie, if you choose to be my wife, there will be no other.”

  Tears pricked at her eyes as she looked up at him. She wanted to believe him, more than anything. But the seed of doubt that had been planted would not wash away. “I want to believe…” she whispered.

  He kissed her a third time, pressing her back to the door. Then his lips began blazing a trail down her neck, over her collarbone.

  She was so focused on the feel of his lips that she nearly missed his hands bunching up her skirts so that they rose above her knees to her thighs.

  His voice was gruff as he kissed the valley between her breasts. “Let me show you what else I can give you.” And then he dropped to his knees, his head disappearing under layers of fabric.

  “What…what…are you…doing?” she gasped. But his fingers had parted her pantaloons, and slipping them in the slit of the fabric, he brushed her folds. Her hips jerked and her knees started to buckle but he used his broad shoulders to prop her up. Stroking her more deeply, she felt him open her up as his tongue touched her most intimate place.

  She lost the ability to think or reason as the pleasure built inside her. His tongue caressed her over and over until she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming out. Her legs refused to support her entirely as she trembled and clenched with the need building inside.

  When he inserted a finger, deep into her channel, her pleasure broke apart, sending her body spasming into ecstasy.

  Her body continued to shudder as he slowly withdrew his hand and pulled his head out from under her skirts. Then he swept her into his arms and carried her over to the bed.

  Her head lay limply on his shoulder. “I didn’t know,” was all she could murmur.

  She felt him smile as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I could give you that pleasure every night, love.”

  “And when you’re gone?” she asked, lazily looking up at him.

  “Why would I need to be gone?” He grinned. “We’ll move to the country. Hire a staff that is all over the age of fifty.”

  They had reached the bed and she couldn’t help but giggle as he gently laid her down. “This is ludicrous. You know that, don’t you? You are trying to convince me to wed.”

  “Don’t forget me this week,” he kissed her tenderly on the lips. “I will see you on Friday.”

  The masquerade ball was on Friday. But her family would be travelling to London on Wednesday in preparation for the season. She didn’t tell him that, though, because a plan was forming in her mind. A scheme, her mother would call it. Spying was most decidedly a scheme.

  Chapter 6

  The week passed dreadfully slowly. While his body felt amazing, his mind sharp without the entrapment of liquor, he missed Tabbie.

  She had tasted sweeter than any woman he’d ever known, and bloody hell, she’d been so tight around his finger.

  And her reaction. Hells bells, she was wanton as her unruly curls had suggested, wet and willing and so damn beautiful.

  Even more amazing was that his feelings went far deeper than that. It was her wit and her kindness that made him long for her company. He dreamed about her at night, thoughts of her hardly left his mind throughout the day. She had stolen, not just his affection, but apparently his every thought.

  He had to chuckle. A pretty little wallflower was the undoing of a rake.

  It hadn’t helped that Coventry had been travelling and Luke wouldn’t be able to speak to him until Thursday. He wanted to know what part the other man had played in Tabbie entering his life.

  Finally, he received a missive from Coventry to join him at the club that evening. Luke grimaced. He would miss the club, at least his friends within. He would still see them of course, but he promised Tabbie a life in the country and he would deliver. Besides, he looked forward to that life. He wasn’t sure when it had happened but at some point, he’d grown tired of the lifestyle. It had taken Tabbie to make him see what he should have realized earlier. But this life of full wakefulness was so much more fulfilling.

  Having risen early, he’d already been to his boxing club, worked on his accounting books, gone riding in the park. As the afternoon wore on, he finally decided to make his way toward Asher Street. He’d walk to the club in a roundabout path that would alleviate some of his nervous energy.

  He wasn’t worried about the meeting with Coventry or about the masquerade ball. In fact, he was eager for both events. But a dread was building in his chest that he didn’t quite understand. Attempting to suss out his feelings, he picked up the pace as he rounded a nearby park when he heard what sounded like a feminine huff of breath.

  Stopping, he turned to look but saw nothing. Perhaps it had been a bird? He continued walking but his pace was slower and then he stopped to examine some flowers that were peeking out of the ground. Glancing back, he saw nothing, but as he started walking again, the distinct sound of silk skirts rustling caught his ears. Was a woman following him?

  He rounded the corner to the club and
made his way up Asher Street. It must be one of the ladies who worked within the club. He had simply looked the wrong way and didn’t see her, had missed her passing. Or perhaps it was a lady who lived further down Asher Street. No well-heeled lady would be foolish enough to travel this far out of London proper.

  With a shrug, he inserted his key into the lock and stepped inside. As he closed the door, he caught sight of a hooded woman. It wasn’t terribly cold, spring had warmed the air, so it was curious that she had pulled the hood up. A single auburn curl floated in the breeze, but she tucked it back and ducked her head lower.

  His eyes scrunched together as he made his way down the hall. The cloak had looked to be made of a fine wool, which was odd for this neighborhood. Perhaps it was one of the maids from the club. They often had admirers among the earls who bought them fancy gifts. But she would have come to the back entrance. He continued to puzzle over it as he veered right, toward Coventry’s private office within the building.

  He knocked and Coventry called, “Come in.”

  Opening the door, his mind still grappled with the lady in the cloak. “Thanks for seeing me.”

  “Of course. How did you fare with Lady Tabitha?”

  “You know very well how I fared.” Luke raised an eyebrow.

  “You always were a smart one.” Coventry nodded as he gave a benign smile. “Did she scheme her way into your heart?”

  So he knew about Tabbie’s tendency for plotting did he? A thousand questions rushed to his mind. How did Coventry know her? How had he known that they would be well matched? “Actually she tried to scheme her way out of our engagement.”

  Coventry’s eyes lit with appreciation and interest as he leaned forward in his chair. “Clever girl, pushing you away. What was her plan?”

  “How do you even know that she would have a plan?” Luke leaned forward too. Coventry was like family to him, but it was odd that the man knew so much about Tabbie. And yet, he had never spoken of her.

  Coventry sat back then. “When she managed to open her shelter, despite a great deal of dissent from a fair number of lords, I knew she would make an excellent match for one of my errant earls. The question was which one. Which man would like a girl with spirit and brains, and fiery auburn hair to match her vivacious approach to life?”

  His friend, and leader of the Wicked Earls’ Club, was a matchmaker? Luke couldn’t process the words because another detail had clicked in his mind. His little schemer with her fiery auburn hair. She wouldn’t have made a wild plan to follow him, say to the Wicked Earls’ Club to see what he was doing?

  Fear made his heart stutter as he stood from his chair, knocking the heavy piece of furniture to the ground. “Grab some men and pistols,” he nearly shouted as he shot back out the door and down the hall.

  Blast… Luke had disappeared behind a locked door. She’d heard the bolt click back into place. She followed him for near a mile, her feet were positively aching. And it was for naught. Anything could be behind that door.

  “Tabbie, I think we should go home.” Tricia’s voice shook as she finally caught up wither sister. She wasn’t as adept at subterfuge and had lagged behind so as not to give them away. “Mother thinks we are shopping for ribbon and I don’t think this the best place for us—”

  “Give me a moment,” Tabbie shushed her sister. “There must be a way inside.”

  “We can’t go inside,” Tricia hissed.

  Tabbie patted her on the arm. “Not you, just me. You can act as lookout.” Glancing down the street, she noticed an alley between this building and the next. “Maybe there is a back way in.”

  Standing, she shook out her skirts and stepped down onto the sidewalk. Tricia sat on the steps, looking forlornly toward the park from where they had come. Clearly her sister wanted to return.

  Tabbie was about to chastise her sister’s sense of adventure when she noticed three men across the street silently assessing her. Perhaps she had dismissed Tricia too easily.

  Their clothes were worn, faces unshaved, hats pulled low. Nothing about them spoke of respectability or even decency.

  The corner of her mouth pulled down into a frown. She’d come all this way, she hated to give up now, but it didn’t seem like the best idea to traipse down a dark alley with ruffians looking on. “Or perhaps we should come back another time.”

  “Thank the saints,” Tricia exhaled, giving her a large smile. Tabbie’s eyes flitted over Tricia. At sixteen she was growing into a lovely woman, who was a great deal more demure than her older sister. Tricia would find husband hunting quite easy. But in a situation like this, Tricia was at more risk. She didn’t have a sharp tongue and bravado to fall back on. Tabbie shouldn’t have brought her here.

  Movement from the men on the other side of the street caught her eye as they began crossing toward them. For a split second she wondered what to do. Pound on the door behind her or make a hasty retreat the way she had come. Their eyes locked on her, they were closing the distance between them quickly.

  “Bang on the door,” Tabbie hissed to Tricia.

  “We can’t do that, we followed him--” Tricia started but she stopped as she turned and caught sight of the ruffians. Gathering up her skirts, Tricia raced up the stairs and started banging on the door.

  Tabbie squared her shoulders, not sure how she would defend her sister against these men, but she knew she had to try.

  “Well aren’t you a pretty little thing.” One of the men leered at her as they all approached. He was tall and thin, his clothing stained.

  Her skin crawled but she lifted her chin. “I can assure you, sir, my friend will be joining us momentarily.” She forced her voice to be steady despite the fear building within her chest.

  Another cackled. Her shoulders drooped just a little but she squared them back up. Tricia was still pounding on the door.

  “Of course ‘e is,” another called. “But in the meantime, you ladies can take off yer jewels and yer reticules.”

  The leering one let his eyes wander down her. “And mayhap we’ll continue this conversation more private, like in the alley.”

  Tabbie couldn’t help herself, she stepped back then. Her heels bumping into the wrought iron fence edging the beds in the front of the building. “Never,” she tried to say with confidence but it came out as a whisper. Her fingers came to the base of her neck. This wasn’t going to end well.

  The leering one grabbed her arm while another attempted to wrest her reticule from her clenched fist.

  “Grab the other one,” the man yanking on her arm commanded as he gave her a firm tug.

  “No,” she gasped, pulling back, still holding tight to her reticule.

  He leaned in, his breath as foul as the stains on his shirt. His lips curling into a malicious smile that made her more afraid than when he’d grabbed her. “Oh, we’ll have ye bo—”

  His words stopped abruptly as a fist bashed into his teeth. Suddenly she was spinning around a large body, firm hands lifting her in the air. She landed on the stairs, still standing, as Luke threw two more punches, knocking another man to the ground.

  Tabbie blinked, trying to understand her sudden change in fortune when the man who had been attempting to pull away her reticule, pulled a knife from his waist and waved it at Luke. “That’s enough of that.” He gave Luke a hard eye.

  “I disagree,” a man spoke behind her, his voice as hard as stone that had both her and Tricia jumping in the air before they turned. New fear trickled down Tabbie’s back. Who else had joined this menagerie?

  He gave a curt nod, to acknowledge her. An elderly looking man, impeccably dressed, he stepped next to her, holding out two pistols. She recognized the Earl of Coventry immediately. “I’ve sent a man to collect The Bow Street Runners. You may as well have a seat, gentlemen.”

  Two other men came out the door, Lord Gracon and another. For the first time since this began, a blush heated her cheeks. She’d be ruined for this. As if reading her thoughts, the elderly gentleman t
urned to Luke. “Take the ladies home. We’ll not speak of this to anyone.”

  Grabbing her arm, Luke guided her and Tricia to the now infamous alley where a carriage sat unattended. Luke opened the door and she and her sister climbed in. “Where did you leave your carriage?”

  “The ribbon shop on Regent Street,” she croaked, her voice cracking.

  He gave a curt nod and then made to climb in the driver’s seat.

  “Luke?” Her voice was desperate, she knew it. She’d made a terrible mistake and she’d have to answer for it.

  He gave her a hard look, his usual soft demeanor gone. “What, Tabbie?”

  He’d used her given name at least. “I’m so sorry.”

  His face softened and he pulled her against his chest, his cheek pressed against her hair. “You frightened me.”

  “I know. It was a foolish, silly thing to do.”

  “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, let’s get you home.” And then he pulled away and handed her into the carriage. She missed his heat. More than anything she wanted to press close to him where it was warm and safe.

  Tricia sat in the seat across from her, eyes as wide as saucers. “He saved us.”

  “I am so sorry I put you in that situation.” Tabbie looked at her sister who then launched herself across the carriage and into her arms.

  “It’s all right. I understand. I know you are trying to figure out if he is the right man for you, but after all of that, don’t you think you’ll marry him?”

  She took a breath, after what she’d put her sister through, she owed Tricia as much of the truth as a sixteen-year-old could hear. “Part of me wants to. He is so handsome and brave. When he looks at me, it is like the sun shining upon me.” Tabbie took a breath. “But I am afraid, after I give myself to him, he will grow tired of this little wallflower, and turn his sights elsewhere.”

  Her sister patted her arm. “I know you are afraid. But you won’t know for sure until you give yourself to him.”