Romancing the Earl

by Heather Boyd

  Price headed to the library, only to see those doors shut. He knocked and stepped inside. Finding the room cold and empty of his wife, Price returned to the hall and headed toward the back of the house. The morning room door was ajar, and he finally caught sight of Lenore there.

  Or at least part of her.

  She was on the ground, on her knees, nicely rounded bottom facing him.

  He blinked, instantly and shockingly aroused as that lovely bottom wiggled from side to side hypnotically as she reached under the settee.

  Dear God, he couldn’t look away from the tempting sight.

  He could have Lenore on her knees just like that one day. His cock wedged deep and driving into her over and over again as they made love.

  But he couldn’t think of that; he’d promised to give Lenore the time she needed.

  He started to sweat as her wiggling continued, Lenore unaware of him at the door, and he yanked at his cravat for air as his cock gave an eager twitch in his trousers. He could not seduce her, not until she showed signs she wanted to be.

  “Hero, I swear you do this on purpose every single time,” she complained. “Bad dog!”

  She sat back on her heels, huffing, while Price silently struggled to regain control of his body before his wife noticed him standing there at full attention. He could not meet her with his trousers tented like this. He clasped his hands in front of his groin and imagined something awful.

  He thought of his godmother, and his budding erection withered and died. Thank God.

  Lenore brushed her hair back from her face and put her hands on her hips. “I’ll have to call in a footman for help with this one. You know how I hate doing that.”

  In control at last, Price stepped into the room and cleared his throat. “Perhaps I could be of service.”

  Lenore yelped, spinning around and falling on her lovely rounded bottom. “Oh, you scared me, my lord! When I didn’t see you at breakfast, I assumed I would not see you until tomorrow.”

  Should he apologize? If he did, he might also feel obligated to give an accounting of where he had been last night. He would prefer not to. She probably would not like the idea he’d spent the night at a place like Madam Bradshaw’s. He touched none of the women there, of course, but he’d certainly been invited to partake. And it was not as if he and Lenore had a standing appointment to see each other over a plate of eggs each day. But it had become a habit. Time well spent, but he’d never sensed her interest in him, so he took himself away.

  He strolled closer and offered his hand to help her up. “What seems to be the problem?”

  The mark on her face had almost completely gone now. Just a lingering trace was discernable when he drew closer to her.

  She slapped her palm across his, and he quickly put her on her feet. They swayed close together only a moment before she pulled away and turned to scowl at her dog, putting her hands on her enticing hips again. The scent of Lenore, a delicate fragrance of lavender and honey, washed over him, and his body warmed anew. He kept a firm grip on his reaction this time, though, knowing the moment was still not right to explore passion with his bride.

  Lenore clucked her tongue. “Hero has tossed his favorite toy into a hard-to-reach place. Normally I can snare them, but today it’s too far under.”

  Price chuckled as the dog sensed her disapproval and flattened himself in supplication, tail still wagging back and forth as he stared at his mistress with mournful eyes.

  Despite her disapproving tone, it was obvious Lenore was still very fond of her animal. They were always together. She took him everywhere she went. Visiting friends or shopping on Bond Street, everyone who saw them mentioned his wife and dog were happy together.

  “Let me see what I can do,” he murmured. Price approached the chaise and looked around it for handholds. It was large, well-cushioned, and deep enough for two to sleep upon. Sturdy, and most likely too heavy for Lenore to shift on her own, and she really should not try. He picked up one end easily, moved it out from the wall, and dropped it down with a thump.

  Price wriggled behind the piece and bent low. After searching around one-handed, he tossed out a length of knotted rope and a small leather ball, too, that was hidden by the bottom edge of the window drapes.

  “So that’s where it went!” Lenore cried, rushing to snatch up the ball and denying her dog the opportunity to play with it, lest he lose it again.

  Price wriggled back out. “Was that everything he’s lost?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said, but her focus was already on her dog and a game of tug of war.

  Price felt decidedly overlooked as the game continued as if he wasn’t still standing there. Eventually, he cleared his throat.

  She spared him a fleeting glance. “Was there something else, my lord?”

  “It’s Price,” he snapped.

  “I’m sorry?” She dropped the rope and Hero snatched it up and ran away. “Oh, Hero come back,” she called, glancing out to the hall after her dog.

  “My name is Price.”

  She turned back to him and blinked. “Do you want me to call you by your first name now?”

  “You did when we were younger.”

  “I did a lot of things then that I don’t do now.” Her chin lifted. “All right, Price, it is. Was there something else?”

  “No.” He shook his head in frustration, noticing she had not granted him permission to use her given name in return. “Yes. We have been invited to attend a luncheon at a friend’s house today. It was a last-minute decision to have a gathering. Last night, actually.”

  Her fingers rose to her cheek.

  “That has faded enough that no one will notice.”

  She swallowed. “At what time should I be ready?”

  Price checked the time on his pocket watch. “We need to leave in the next twenty minutes, or we’ll be late.”

  Her eyes rounded. “But, it is only ten?”

  “There’s a long drive ahead of us.”

  “I see.” She looked after her dog, and then at herself, and her shoulders sagged. “I was about to take him for a walk. You go, and give your host my sincere apologies.”

  That did not suit Price. He had honestly thought Lenore might be eager to see some of London with him by now. He also had a present for her that he was keen to show off today, too. “What if I take Hero outside while you change into something more appropriate?”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t ask. I offered. Bring a cloak, too. There’s bound to be a cool breeze coming off the Thames in the afternoon.”

  She hesitated a moment, then gathered up her skirts one-handed and fled at a run. The dog returned, but Price was able to call Hero back. Apparently, the word “walk” was enough of an incentive for the little beast to stay with him.

  He gathered up the rope and walked the dog out into the square. Hero bounded off a little way but returned in short order. Price threw the rope, and Hero always brought it back. Price threw until his arm began to tire, and the dog was more than happy to fall to the earth, satisfied and panting.

  “Good dog,” he praised.

  He turned to look at his home and caught Lenore watching them out of an upper window. He raised his hand, pleased to see her watching him. Lenore offered him a brief, almost embarrassed wave back, and promptly disappeared behind the curtains again.

  He sighed. “We’re a long way off being comfortable with each other,” he confessed to the dog. What he wouldn’t give to know what she thought of him right now. It seemed forever since their marriage, and that decision they’d made to wait to consummate the marriage niggled at him. But he had to be patient with her. “I’m hoping today’s gift will make up for me never being at home.”

  Hero barked. Price crouched down and gave the dog a good rub then they played tug of war with a stick. After a while, Hero ran a few steps toward the town house, and then barked at him.

  “Quite right. We’d better go back to our lady and
be on our way soon after.”

  He was looking forward to spending the day with Lenore. He longed for the end of this parliamentary session so he had time take Lenore away from London for a honeymoon trip perhaps.

  He strolled back to the house, making sure Hero was close as they crossed the roadway. The dog bounded up the steps, and Price let himself inside.

  He heard the commotion at once. The high-pitched voice of another woman. The shrill tone he recognized all too well, unfortunately.

  Lady Berry, Angela’s mother, was in his home.

  With Lenore.

  He followed the sound of her angry voice and found her and Lenore in the drawing room, with Lady Berry looking daggers at his wife.

  “Lady Berry,” he barked.

  Hero barked, too, and rushed across to his mistress, ready to defend her. Hackles up. The dog growled, and Lenore bent down to shush him, exposing her deep cleavage to all in the room.

  He nearly groaned as lust hit him hard.

  “I see it didn’t take you long to turn your attention elsewhere,” Lady Berry sneered, and then turned back to Lenore. “Scandalous. Brazen.”

  “She’s beautiful,” Price declared, but then caught hold of Lady Berry’s arm and dragged her away from Lenore. “We will talk in my study, madam.”

  Lady Berry attempted to shake off his grip, even if he was having none of it. “I should have known your words were as cold as your heart must be.”

  He wrestled her from the room before she spewed out the hate she customarily lashed Price with in front of Lenore.

  Lady Berry blamed him for Angela’s death. Price agreed with Lady Berry to a point. Angela had snuck away from her chaperones to rendezvous with him on the night she’d been murdered. If he’d known about his godmother’s intent, he’d never have risked Angela’s reputation or her life. It was his fault that Angela had been all alone the night she’d died. She had been waiting for him.

  But Lenore had nothing to do with any of it.

  He assisted Lady Berry down the hall as politely as possible, and once they were in the privacy of his study, and the door firmly shut, he released her. He would try again to comfort the distraught woman. “I did not know you had returned to London.”

  “As soon as I read your happy news in The Times, I had to come to see for myself the sort of woman you’d take as a wife after all you’ve said to about your supposed undying devotion,” she hissed. “I wonder if you profess to love her, too, the way you deceived my innocent daughter.”

  “I deceive no one.” Price sighed. “I had a duty to marry. To have a son.”

  She tipped her head in the direction Lenore had been. “So, you married a…what? A nobody? A woman so insignificant that her name and connections cannot be found in Debrett’s?”

  “Do not speak of Lady Carmichael in that fashion,” he told her in a biting tone. “She is a good woman.”

  Lady Berry’s eyes narrowed. “She’s a dried-up spinster. Was she the only woman you could get with your reputation in tatters now? No proper family would have you in their midst now I suppose. You disgust me!”

  She had expressed that opinion before, and yet still sought him out. Lady Berry had decided to rail at him, and only him, since the killer had been his late godmother and he’d been involved with her daughter.

  “For Angela’s sake, I’ll forgive your words today, but never again. I’m a victim of my godmother’s murderous rage, too. She stole my happiness, murdered the woman I loved, and killed others. Many women died, or have you forgotten their families’ pain is as great as your own?”

  Price advanced on the woman. Lady Berry might have the distinction of almost being his mother-in-law once, but his patience only went so far. “If you ever try to speak to my wife again, try to malign her to others the way you just did, I’ll see to it your name is wiped from society’s memory. Don’t think I haven’t the influence.”

  The lady had the decency to dip her gaze, but he was confident she hadn’t finished picking at his conscience. She was bitter and lost without her daughter. She’d had high hopes for Angela’s future, which was why their relationship had been conducted in secrecy at first. Lady Berry had wanted her daughter to marry higher than him. Anyone but him, really. A duke or a marquess, perhaps. She’d never believed Price’s interest in her precious daughter to be sincere.

  “You can put a ring on her finger and dress her up in pretty gowns, but she’ll never belong in our society. You’ll see,” Lady Berry warned. “You’ll get what you deserve—a life of unhappiness and misery await you.”

  She stood there a moment, and then turned on her heel to march out.

  Price pinched the bridge of his nose, and then followed behind to make sure Lady Berry was truly gone and didn’t have a chance to speak to Lenore again.

  The door shut behind her with a great crash, and Price immediately went in search of his wife.

  Lenore was still in the drawing room but peeking out the front windows at the departing figure of Lady Berry.

  Price approached her slowly. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “Who was that woman?”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “Not really. She just sailed into the room and started saying horrible things to me about you.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “She mentioned your godmother. She suggested you must have known what was going on and could have stopped her.”

  Price took a deep breath. “I didn’t know, and I am ashamed of that.”

  “I know you’re not responsible.”

  If only that were the whole of it. Lenore would hear things when they went out together, and when she went out alone in society soon. Some people knew all of it, that he’d been romantically involved with some of the victims in the past, and particularly with Angela, who he’d planned to do the right thing by and marry her.

  He hadn’t the stomach to relay the whole story anymore. He didn’t want to distress Lenore either. But she should be prepared with some version of it should they reencounter Lady Berry in society. “Lady Berry is the mother of one of my godmother’s victims.”

  Lenore nodded. “I gathered as much. Angela?”

  “Yes, Lady Berry blames me for her daughter’s death. Many of the families have asked how I missed the signs of madness in my godmother, but I swear, I saw nothing that gave me cause for alarm.”

  Lenore rubbed his arm. “We never really know what is in people’s hearts and minds, do we?”

  The touch was unexpected, and he moved closer to her. “I didn’t, and I regret that very much.”

  His life might have been entirely different. He would have married Angela, not Lenore. Strangely, after so many weeks, he couldn’t imagine not being married to Lenore now. “I think—

  Lenore’s fingers settled over his lips. “Regrets are poison for the soul and spoil the day if dwelled on for too long. What your godmother did is in the past. We don’t have to talk about it now.”

  He looked her over, really looked at Lenore for a change. She’d donned a pretty new gown for their outing, and her hair was simply styled, ready to place a bonnet over her head. He liked what he saw very much. He liked his wife, and didn’t want to say anything that would possibly upset her and spoil the day.

  No, today wasn’t the day for regrets but for new adventures and a little politics too. “We do have a party to attend.”

  “And I am ready,” she promised, reaching for a bonnet that had been set down on a table behind her. As she turned, Priced noticed that her paw-printed cheek was absent. He squinted at her face when she turned back, discovering the slightest hint of cosmetics there to hide it.

  “Indeed, you are, and I promise you will have a marvelous time.” He noticed her cloak spread over a chair and gathered it up. “I’ll have the carriage brought round immediately.”

  She followed him to the door, talking with her pet the whole way there. He knew she wasn’t paying attention to him but waited until the c
arriage had pulled up before whispering her name.

  “Yes?” Her eyes lit up when they fell on the carriage.

  He grinned, enjoying her surprise. “What do you think? Will it do?”

  The new carriage—black-lacquered sides, and bright green trimmings—shone in the daylight. The grooms, newly employed and wearing freshly tailored livery, snapped to attention once the carriage door opened. Lenore’s carriage pleased him very well. It was created to fit a family instead of just a pair traveling through Town.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Is this yours?”

  “No. It’s yours, Lenore. And Hero’s too, of course. Climb in and tell me what you think.”

  Hero sprang inside, jumping up on the new seats and sniffing the olive velvet upholstery. Lenore climbed in more slowly, allowing Price to help her this time.

  When she was seated, he joined her, and the door snapped shut.

  She fingered the green fringed window drapes and looked around at everything with wide eyes. “You shouldn’t have done this for me.”

  He reached past her and opened a compartment on the wall of the carriage. Inside was a crystal bowl and a corked bottle. “The carpenter thought me mad not to have wanted wine glasses in here, but I thought you might prefer me to be practical instead. The bottle is water instead of wine. The bowl is for Hero to drink from.”

  “That’s so thoughtful,” she said, smiling even wider now.

  He settled their cloaks on the opposite seat beside Hero and sat back, comfortable, and very pleased with his new purchase. He was glad he’d been able to surprise her. “Now, you don’t need to share my carriage anymore,” he told her.

  “Thank you.” Lenore nodded slowly, and then turned her face to the view out the window. She sighed softly. “Yes. It is a lovely carriage for Hero and me to travel about in.”

  Chapter 11