Dread of The Earl (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

How lucky for Mr. Goody that he’d chosen to take two men who lacked the social means to gain much attention by falling off the face of the Earth.

  In the most twisted way, he’d had more conversations with Mr. Goody than he’d had with anyone in years, excluding his brother Colby, who insisted on bothering Kent every chance he got.

  Kent had also grown close to Harlot. So close, in fact, that he’d ceased most of his resistance just so he wouldn’t have see her tears after Mr. Goody punished him. The little maid fussed over him, but he couldn’t allow himself to think she actually cared for him. If she did, why not unchain him?

  She looked more tired than usual today. So, why not take his deal? Why not free him and set them both free?

  Mr. Goody finished his glass of wine and then stood. “If only we could move things to the parlor like true gentlemen.” He glared sharply at his captured guests. “If you spoke more,” he said to Coalwater “and you accepted your position as my captive.” He pointed a finger at Kent. “We could all play the gentlemen and have a merry time.”

  Kent bit back telling Mr. Goody he was no gentleman, no matter the fact that his father was. No true gentleman would kidnap other lords simply because he could find no other way to get them in his company.

  Mr. Goody shouted to the kitchen—another ungentlemanly act. “Harlot, clean this place. I’m getting ready to head out.” He bowed to the men and then left.

  Harlot appeared just seconds after Mr. Goody’s footsteps disappeared and began to clear the plates. She left and returned with cups, and Kent didn’t hesitate to drink. He knew what was inside. He’d be weak within minutes and then Mr. Goody would move him, Astlen, and Coalwater to their rooms before leaving for the night.

  Kent only gave in because he knew Harlot would visit him in the night.

  It was all he had to look forward to these days.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  0 5

  * * *

  Lucy watched Ganden wake in degrees. His bed had to be uncomfortable. It, like the table, was made of metal. The only comfort given to him was a blanket thick enough to ward off the chill of the November winds.

  She studied his face in the lamplight, watching as his jaw muscles flexed and shifted. She managed to move her gaze away right before his eyes opened.

  “Would you like me to begin?” The Herald sat in her hands. It was a ritual for them. She would read the entire thing, sometimes holding it out so they could read together.

  It was the least she could do, given his circumstances.

  “Please.” he whispered once he found his voice.

  For the next hour, she read without ceasing. They didn’t have many conversations. Questions and discussions always led to personal questions and discussions, and Lucy could not afford to tell him anything about her former life.

  Though she was beginning to wonder what was the point of keeping it to herself? Would she ever leave Mr. Goody’s employ?

  She would, once George was old enough to make his own way in the world. She prayed for the day he became a man. Could she bear ten more years of this?

  “Hey.” Ganden called when she suddenly stopped reading. She could tell he was uncomfortable with calling her Harlot, but she gave him no other alternative, so he avoided it all together. To do so would be foolish. What if Mr. Goody found out? What if Mr. Goody found out about her visits in the night?

  Still, she risked it.

  “You’re tired.” he told her.

  She was very tired. She’d had to walk into town for supplies for their dinner. Usually, on such days, Mr. Goody allowed her to prepare a simple meal upon her return in the evening, but tonight he’d wanted roasted goose.

  “You should go rest.” he said.

  She lowered the paper. His green eyes were the most vibrant thing Lucy had seen in a very long time. She nodded and moved to stand, but his question stopped her.

  “Do you visit Coalwater and Astlen as well?” he asked.

  She resettled and weighed whether she should tell him the truth, or anything for that matter. It was a personal question, and she didn’t allow those.

  “Coalwater is your age, is he not? Perhaps slightly older than you?” Ganden asked. “It is hard to tell your age.”

  Did she look younger than Coalwater? She was actually older than him by two years. “We are close in age.” She saw no reason to avoid the question. What harm would there be if she kept her answers vague?

  She wanted to ask Ganden for his age but decided against it.

  He supplied the answer. “I’m twenty-six.”

  He was five years older than her. He seemed far older than that.

  So angry.

  So strong and set in his ways.

  She followed the hard lines of his face. He was not the most handsome man she’d ever seen. His nose was too broad, as was the rest of his face. Still, those eyes… rimmed with black lashes that had their own appeal.

  “I thought you at least thirty.” The words left her mouth before she could think. Shaking her head, she stood.

  “Why do you not accept my offer?” he asked quickly. “Why do you refuse? You couldn’t possibly enjoy working here. I see you weep. I see your frustration when I refuse to speak to Mr. Goody at meal times.”

  Did he? He never looked at her while they were in the dining room.

  She would never tell him about George. “Good evening, my lord.”

  “If you are not my friend then you are my enemy.” he said at her back, just as he said most nights.

  She understood his anger. He was trapped. They both were. She no longer had tears for her own predicament, but she mourned whatever life it was that Ganden had lost.

  “You didn’t answer my question.” he said. “Do you visit Coalwater and Astlen after or before you visit me? Astlen is a handsome man.”

  “Does it matter?” Surely, she was more exhausted than she knew herself to be.

  He whispered something that made her return to him.

  “What?” She’d not heard him.

  “I said, I suppose it doesn’t.” He stared blankly at the ceiling. “Nothing matters anymore.”

  Her heart shook at those words. The defeat in them. She sank down until she was sitting at his side and tentatively placed a hand on his chest.

  His own hand shot out and covered hers.

  Her heart raced as she remembered just who this man was. He may have sounded weak for a moment, but he was by no means a weak man. There was a permanent red mark around his throat where he strained against his chains whenever Mr. Goody was present.

  “Are you cold?” He’d been given a new shirt, one borrowed from a servant from town.

  His shrug nearly hollowed her heart out.

  She thought about George and wondered, as she often did, if there was anyone to comfort him when he was scared at night. She wondered if he had anyone to love and watch over him. She prayed daily that his nurse, whoever it was that Lord Maltsby had hired to care for him, was a good woman. A kind woman.

  She found herself rubbing her fingers over Ganden’s cooler ones. He’d shrugged, claiming to not be cold, but he felt cold to her. “I can go fetch you another blanket.” But she’d have to hide it. Mr. Goody was afraid that Ganden would use it to hang himself.

  Lucy worried about that as well, though she didn’t see Ganden as one who gave up in such a way.

  His fingers tightened over hers. “Don’t leave. Not yet.” He looked at her. “I look forward to your visits all day.”

  She was amazed by the comment and only managed to hold back confirmation that she looked forward to seeing him as well. Coalwater didn’t speak. Astlen was hard to read. A wall of emotions hid behind his smile. Mr. Goody only commanded. Ganden spoke to her, expressed himself with his eyes and words, even if their conversation went in circles most days.

  Except for tonight, apparently.

  “I know you visit them both.” he said. “You’re too kind not to.”

  Now she was kind? She thought he’d
declared her his enemy.

  “Astlen only asks me to drop the paper off. He does not like my company, and my conversations with Coalwater are not as lively as the ones I have with you.” she whispered with a small smile.

  His lips curved and then he chuckled. “Was Coalwater mute before he came?”

  She thought for a moment. “He’s not…mute. I think he simply struggles to get his thoughts into words, so he quits without trying much. But yes, Mr. Goody brought him that way.”

  “Is he special to you?” Ganden asked, his eyes upon her now.

  Special?

  “I care for hi.,” she said. “I care for you as well.”

  “Equally?” He chuckled and then looked away. “Forget I asked. I don’t know what’s the matter with me this night.” He let her hand go and positioned his hands higher on his chest. “You may go. Good night.” He closed his eyes.

  She remained where she was and debated on whether she should allow him to shut her out. This was the most they’d ever spoken, and she realized just how much she’d missed having someone’s confidence. Of course, she could never tell him everything. He could never know her name or about George. She had to be Harlot to him.

  But…

  She leaned forward and rested her head on his heart. She was completely vulnerable to him now. If he wished it, he could snap her neck.

  The chains rattled as his hands moved. His arms wrapped around her.

  She settled further into him and closed her eyes. “I read to Coalwater before I come to you. He requires less opiates. He’s more cooperative, so he wakes earlier than you. I don’t read the entire paper to him. He only cares about the wedding announcements and the obituaries.”

  “That is all?” Ganden’s fingers were rough and sent tingles down her body as he rubbed her arms. “Perhaps, he is looking for someone? Someone he loves.”

  “I believe so.” Lucy said just as exhaustion began to take over.

  She should return to her room, but…She didn’t feel like moving. Though she didn’t enjoy the metal at her hip, she did enjoy the heat that rose from Ganden’s body.

  She yawned and before she fell asleep, she thought she heard Ganden say, “I will be more cooperative. If only so that I may wake and spend more time with you.”

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  0 6

  * * *

  Seven Months Later

  June 1816

  “So, both Brummell and Byron have fled England this year.” Kent said as he stared at the ceiling. “All in an effort to escape debts?” He grunted. “Think they’ve been kidnapped as well?” He looked over and noticed the light that played in Harlot’s warm eyes.

  Her hair was a dark gold, he’d learned. She did not wear a cap when she visited his room at night anymore. Now, it hung in a long braid over her shoulder. Neither did she wear her uniform. Instead, she dressed in a customary night rail that never ceased to burn Kent to the core upon first sight.

  She was small, yes, but very lovely.

  When alone, she moved with a femininity and ladylike manner that amazed him. It was almost as though her maid appearance was all an act for Mr. Goody’s behalf.

  “I doubt it.” she said. “You, Astlen, and Coalwater appear to be special, considering the circumstances.” She stood. The paper was finally finished. “Do you want the blanket?”

  He shook his head. “It’s far too hot for it.” He could hardly believe it was June already. In another month or so, it would be a full year since his capture.

  “Well, I do want it.” Lucy put the papers away and then lowered the lights to a dim glow before sliding onto the metal bed with him, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

  His arms went around her, just as they did every night, and like every night before, he became aroused. But there was little he could about it. And though they’d never discussed it, he knew the woman beside him was an innocent. In fact, some of his anger at Mr. Goody had cooled a few months ago when he’d learned that the man had never touched Harlot.

  But he was still angry. Given the opportunity, he would break free, because he knew he’d otherwise never be let out again. He knew Mr. Goody’s name, which meant the man had no intention of ever letting him walk out of the house alive.

  But if he had to be trapped with anyone, he was glad to have his little maid at his side.

  They’d grown close, keeping one another company.

  Mr. Goody had begun to leave for short periods at a time. A few days on occasion, and it was those times when Kent grew most frustrated at his situation. Harlot would not free him, and he resented her just as much as he needed her.

  Were the situation different, he’d have never befriended a servant. Yet, here they were. Friends of a sort…if one ignored the occasional threat.

  And she did.

  Harlot still told him nothing about her reasons for being here and so far, Mr. Goody had not let slip any detail about the sole person in his employment.

  Kent rarely asked her details about her personal life. There was no point when she never answered anything.

  Suddenly, she shifted and then she popped up. “Oh, I have an idea.” She rolled from the bed and on quick feet fled the room.

  He didn’t have to wait long for her return and was surprised when she entered holding a very thin mattress. Even though it was small, the thing seemed to give her trouble.

  He got up and took the mattress. His neck and arms were no longer chained. Only an ankle, which limited his reach to a chamber pot not far from the bed.

  “This is from my room,” she said brightly. “It does me very little good sitting on the floor in the other room.”

  He frowned as he put it on top of his metal. “This is all he gives you to sleep on?” He’d been imagining her in a proper bed.

  She blushed but didn’t meet his eyes as she smoothed it out. “Yes.”

  He took her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Have you ever slept in a proper bed before?”

  She held his eyes and sighed. “Yes.”

  “At your former employer’s?”

  “Mr. Goody went to Oxford. He’ll be gone for at least the night. I won’t be caught moving the mattress back and forth from here. I can have it back in my room by morning.” She was avoiding his question.

  She motioned for him to lay down.

  Kent lowered his body and sighed at the relief her mattress gave him. It was made of little more than cotton and straw, but it was wonderful. It had been a year since he’d laid on anything as soft as this…except for those mornings when he found himself partially curled up on top of the maid.

  She moved to lay next to him, bringing the cover up with her. Her sigh of contentment put a smile on his face.

  * * *

  Lucy closed her eyes and buried herself in Ganden’s side.

  “If you accepted my offer, you’d sleep on nothing but feather pillows and silk. Wouldn’t you want that?”

  She didn’t answer and mentally she shouted her irritation that he would continue to tempt her with his visions of an easy life. It was becoming harder to remember to not tell him about George. Every day, she wanted to trust him with her secret, but could she? What if one day he turned against her and did exactly what he always promised and made her pay?

  How was she able to draw comfort from a man who threatened her regularly?

  Perhaps, it was because he handled her with a care that countered his words.

  “I don’t know why you are here.” Ganden said. “But if you let me go, I swear my protection to you.”

  “Protectors usually demand something in return for their on-going charity.” she said, even though she couldn’t help but picture having a home somewhere far away from London. A place where she and George were out of Lord Maltsby’s reach.

  But what sort of life would George have even in hiding? She seemed stuck and yet lost at the same time.

  He was silent. “Have I ever asked you for that?”

  “No…” But his body held t
he evidence of a man in want most nights. She was not a complete fool where such things were concerned. Her sister Jessica had shared a great deal with her, so much so that Lucy was certain she could perform the act with little difficulty.

  And there were moments when she wanted him as well. She wanted to feel connected to him in the most supreme way.

  Her nipples ached at the very thought, her breathing growing rushed. She played with fire every night they were together, yet so far, Ganden had proven he was very much still a gentleman.

  He seemed to read her thoughts. “I know you’re innocent. I would never take what doesn’t belong to me.”

  She smiled. “Most lords wouldn’t care if a maid were innocent or not.”

  “Most lords don’t know what it feels like to be trapped,” he said “to not have your feelings considered in any decision.”

  She wondered if his comment was solely about their current situation or if it were about something from his past.

  “I’m surprised Astlen hasn’t convinced you to join his bed.” Ganden said. “He’s quite popular in London.”

  Astlen had tried. It was after Lucy’s repeated refusal that he’d told her to stay away from him.

  “You may keep your innocence for that special someone.” Ganden said when she didn’t respond. “No doubt, you wish to love the man whom you gift it to?”

  She supposed there was nothing wrong with telling him the truth. “I do.” She thought it wonderful and rather terrible that her chaste state was completely safe around him. Because, deep down, she had hoped he’d at least try once.

  Now she knew he wouldn’t.

  “Are you married?” she asked, immediately regretting that she’d asked.

  “No.” He moved, and the chains rattled, reminding her of the truth of their situation. He turned to face her, keeping one of his arms underneath her head while the other rested on her hip. “I had planned to get around to it sometime in the future, perhaps when I was forty or so. Now…” He shrugged.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I…”

  “Don’t stop.” he said. “Please…tell me.”

  ∫ ∫ ∫