Page 11 of Loving an Earl (Widows of Mayfair #1)

T he Duchess of Greenville’s driver was waiting outside Emmeline’s townhome when they arrived home. Lilly and Emmeline both picked up their skirts and hurried up the stairs to change clothing. After Daisy helped Lilly out of her evening dress, she sent her away and quickly dressed in a plain day dress, a black cloak, and sturdy boots. When she met Emmeline in the entry hall, she was dressed similarly. They left the house making haste to the unmarked coach.

“Good evening, ladies,” said the driver, Mitchel, as he helped them inside the old but sturdy vehicle. He was one of the men who drove for the cause, a man the duchess trusted implicitly.

“Good evening, Mitchel,” Emmeline said as she sat beside Lilly.

“We are on our own this evening. Flynn couldn’t make it.”

Emmeline and Lilly glanced at each other. It was first time they had gone on an assignment without an escort as well as a driver. She told herself it would be fine, even though her heart beat like a drum inside her chest. Emmeline had been doing this for years and never had an encounter with any unsavory men. She just had to concentrate on the poor sick baby who needed what was inside the large bag sitting on the floor by her feet.

Lilly had only gone into St. Giles during the night a few times but didn’t believe she would ever feel comfortable doing so. As the carriage left the respectable neighborhoods of London and traveled farther and farther into the poor, unsafe areas, the more Lilly’s heart pounded. She was afraid to look out the curtained window, knowing what she would see.

“I can see the panic on your face,” Emmeline said as she touched her hand. “Everything will be fine. We’ve been to this tenement before. When we arrive, do what you always do. Keep your hood up and don’t make eye contact with anyone—except for the poor mother. And you will recognize her—her name is Jane.”

Before Emmeline could say anything else the carriage jerked to a stop and Mitchel opened the door and lowered the steps. “Be quick.”

Lilly should have kept her head down. Instead, she gasped at the people milling around. Women—prostitutes—scantily dressed and dirty. Filthy men, drunk and swaying through the streets. Lilly gagged at the stench and her gloved hand flew to her mouth. Emmeline knocked and knocked on the door. Jane, the haggard-looking young mother, finally opened it just wide enough for her to hand over the bag and wish her well.

They hurried back inside the coach, Mitchel snapped the reins and sent the horses onward. Lilly leaned back against the squabs with a deep sigh. “I don’t believe I’ll ever get used St. Giles in the night. It is so eerie. Everything appears heightened. The sounds of the prostitutes and their customers, the drunk men, the awful smell.” She shivered.

“It is bad. The poor mother having to live in such squalor,” Emmeline said as she hugged herself.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Lilly listened to the clop of the horses’ hooves, the creak of the carriage wheels, and the occasional yelling coming from the street. When they arrived home, she bid Emmeline goodnight and went to her room, undressed down to her chemise, and scrubbed the smell from her body with the pitcher of water and soap left for her by Daisy. No matter how hard she scrubbed, her skin still crawled with imagined filth. Eventually, Lilly conceded that she’d done the best she could.

Instead of climbing into bed, she took a blanket and lay on the chaise longue. Her mind wandered to the many unanswered questions floating around inside her brain.

Langford.

She questioned his motives where she was concerned. How could she know if he truly cared for her when his actions traveled from one extreme to the other? He frustrated her to no end. If she allowed herself to see his handsome face in her mind and remember the feel of his lips on hers her insides melted. A warmth curled around her heart, threatening to take over her entire body. He threatened her peace of mind. He was so contradictory he made her head spin from their first meeting to their last.

And they called women fickle.

Even now, her heart pounded and her body trembled. Her fingers skimmed across her lips, causing her to sigh deeply. Whatever was happening between them had to end. She didn’t want to live in a state of uncertainty.

As for Hollingsworth, she sympathized with his plight but was glad his attentions would no longer be set on her. She truly hoped he found someone to marry and love.

*

Edmund sat in a quiet corner of White’s after leaving the musicale, enjoying his snifter of brandy. His thoughts got lost in the amber liquid when Hollingsworth darkened his vision.

“How dare you threaten to divulge my secrets? And how do you know I have any?” Hollingsworth’s voice was dark and menacing. Edmund had never heard or seen him so angry.

“Relax, I only said I would tell Lady Langford if you continued forcing this courtship. Which I gather from your actions tonight you won’t be?”

Hollingsworth grabbed him by his jacket lapels, hauled him to his feet, swung back, and punched him right in the jaw. Edmund, caught off guard was shocked when his arse fell back into the chair after being on the receiving end of the man’s fist. His drink and glass fell to the carpet with a muffled thud. He rubbed his jaw and smirked. “I hope you got satisfaction in that hit because it’s the only one you’ll get. Sit. Have a drink. You need one.”

Edmund was shocked when Hollingsworth sank into the chair closest to him. “A brandy, please, and another one for my friend,” he said to the waiter who had hurried over at the commotion.

Before either took a sip, Blackstone joined them and nodded his head. “Gentlemen.” He sat in a vacant chair. “I’m glad I don’t have to break up a brawl.”

Hollingsworth held up his glass. “It’s early yet.”

“That it is,” Edmund added.

“Dare I ask what that was about?” Blackstone grinned at both men.

Hollingsworth snorted. “Use your imagination.”

This time Blackstone laughed. “But words are so much more interesting.” His laughter cut off abruptly. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed several folded pages of paper. “I ripped out the betting pages regarding Mrs. Fitzpatrick.” He tossed sheets to the other men. “Look at some of the names and amounts. What a bunch of degenerates. Betting on who will bed the poor widow first. And the dates go back five years.”

Edmund didn’t miss Blackstone’s look when he said five years . Obviously, he was happy no one had won the bet. “There’s a lot of money riding on this. When the pages are found missing, someone’s head will roll.”

Blackstone stood, retrieved all the pages, walked to the hearth, tossed them into the fire, and watched them burn. He turned around and shrugged his shoulders. “What pages?”

The three men shared a chuckle. “So,” Blackstone said as he sat back down and signaled for a drink, “when are your nuptials to Lady Priscilla taking place?”

Hollingsworth choked on his drink, having just taken a sip. “When Lord Swenson sires an heir.”

“So never. The man must be ninety with no willing wife in sight,” Edmund said with a grin.

Hollingsworth groaned. “You really had to be an arse and sabotage my chances with the countess?”

Edmund stared into his glass again, seeking answers in the amber liquid. “I had to. My uncle asked me to help her find a husband who loves her, someone she loves back.”

“Love,” Hollingsworth scoffed. “An overrated emotion. A drain on one’s heart.”

“Yes, well, if anyone deserves to be loved, it’s Lady Langford.” His eyes were still lost inside his glass.

“I’d say she is loved,” Hollingsworth said, matter-of-factly. “Have you seen the way you look at her? It’s a wonder you both don’t go up in flames.”

Edmund shrugged. “As you said, love is an overrated emotion.”

Blackstone inhaled and exhaled loudly. “Langford’s a lost cause. Hollingsworth, why don’t you marry Lady Priscilla?”

“I can’t. I know I complain about how silly she is and how she drives me crazy, but the truth is she is smart, funny, and kindhearted. The rest is an act when she’s out socially. She believes gentlemen of the ton prefer their wives to be simpletons. She believes that no one would want her if she showed her true self. And for that reason, I can’t marry her. She has always been like a sister to me, and I want her to be happy. I can’t use her. She even knows about the rumors, and she would marry me anyway. She says she would rather marry me than marry someone she hardly knows. I appreciate and admire her for that, but I can’t be the man she deserves.”

“I’m shocked,” Edmund said. “If she’s only been fooling everyone all this time, she should be on the stage. Perhaps I should consider her myself.”

Hollingsworth glared at him. “Do I need to punch you again so soon? You are already spoken for.”

“Hmmm. Not really.” He didn’t realize his feelings for Lilly were so transparent. He would have to be careful from here on out. She may have enjoyed the one kiss they shared, but the look in her eyes this evening told him she was also still leery of him. And how could he blame her after his behavior since they met? The trouble was he couldn’t stay away from her. She was quick becoming the sunshine and air he needed to live.

“So, if you can’t marry Lilly and won’t marry Lady Priscilla,” Blackstone began, “and over my dead body will you get close enough to Emmeline to even ask, who can you marry?”

“That’s my trouble,” Hollingsworth said. “There is no one. The mothers all keep their daughters away from me. The old rumor about me from five years ago is still circulating. Even the wallflowers snub me. It’s most degrading.”

“Even Lady Grace and Lady Faith?” Blackstone asked.

“No. Not them. They are kind, but their mother is entirely another matter. She makes my mother appear saintly.”

Listening to the conversation go on around him had Langford thinking he needed to make amends to Lilly. He had much to atone for and didn’t want to find himself snubbed as well.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I owe someone an apology.”

Losing no time, he walked briskly to Emmeline’s townhome, not realizing the time until he’d already knocked on the door. The butler opened the door, his eyes wide with shock. “My lord, the hour is late.”

Entering the hall, Edmund said, “I apologize, but I must speak with Lady Langford.”

“But, my lord . . .”

“Could you at least tell her I’m here and let her decide if she wishes to see me?”

Several minutes later, he came back with a disapproving look. “Lady Langford will see you in her rooms. Come this way.”

Edmund followed the protective butler up two flights of stairs and down the hall to a door on the right. “You may go in. She is expecting you.”

In truth, she should not be admitting him at all. It was well beyond inappropriate.

Entering the door and closing it shut behind him, he squinted in the dimly lit room until his eyes fell upon her sitting on a chaise longue wearing her night clothes. His feet ate up the distance until he stood in front of her. The picture she presented had his insides jumbled up with desire. “I’m sorry to disturb you so late in the evening.”

“This could not wait until tomorrow?” she said with surprising clarity. Perhaps she’d been having trouble sleeping and hadn’t gone to bed yet.

“No. It could not wait. I’ve been an arse. You have every right to hate me, and I don’t blame you.” Dropping on the chaise longue beside her, he wondered how to articulate the jumbled-up mess inside his head. Instead, he turned and gazed into her green eyes and time suspended. Her eyes dipped to his lips, then back to his eyes. She took her bottom lip between her teeth. His body tensed with desire.

He jumped back up and paced the room. “I came to apologize for my treatment of you since the moment we met.” His fingers combed through his dark hair. “From the second I saw you, I felt something inside me shift, something I didn’t understand, and I took my anger and frustrations out on you. And to be honest—and I’m embarrassed to admit this—I was jealous of Uncle Henry.”

“Jealous?” She hugged herself. “How could you be jealous of a dead man?”

“Easy. He had you.”

“But how could you have felt all that? We had just met.”

“I can’t explain it.” He stopped pacing and looked at her, instantly wishing he hadn’t. Her cheeks were flushed, her light hair loose and falling in waves across her shoulders. The white nightgown made her look young and innocent, and his heart accelerated. “Anyway, I’m sorry I barged in so late. I had no idea of the time. Forgive me.”

She stood and went to him. “Edmund, you’re acting so strangely and you seem flushed. Are you feeling unwell?” she asked, her eyes studying him.

“I’m fine.” His eyes dropped to her lips. “Except that I want to kiss you. So very much.” He breathed in slowly as he cupped her cheeks with his large hands. “May I?”

She smiled nervously. “You’ve never asked before.”

He smiled back. “That was the arrogant me, thinking only of what I wanted without regard for the consequences of my actions.” He pressed his lips to hers briefly. “Tonight, I want you to want me to kiss you .”

“Kiss me, please.”

*

Edmund wrapped his arms around her back, holding her close, kissed her again and then deepened the kiss. She opened her mouth on a moan and his tongue slipped inside to tangle with hers. The kiss intensified, and her body hummed with what she believed was desire. When she could no longer breathe, and every nerve in her body was overwhelmed, she broke the kiss and nestled her head against his neck.

His hands caressed her back. They stood that way for several minutes before Edmund stepped back holding both her hands in his.

“I should go.” He dipped his head and kissed her cheek. “Good night.”

She grabbed his hand. “Stay.”

The next thing she knew she was swept up into his arms and gently placed on the bed. She moved the covers aside and sat against the pillows, waiting for Edmund, who stood watching her intently. “Is this what you want?”

She felt uneasy for just a moment, wondering if he would be able to tell she’d never lain with a man before. But she pushed her doubts aside and whispered, “Yes.” She was feeling reckless and in need of a loving touch. Even if it was just this once, she wanted that loving touch to be from him.

He sat on the edge of her bed and removed his boots, then stood again and removed his coat and waistcoat. He locked his passionate eyes with hers as he untied his cravat, pulled his shirt over his head, and removed his breeches. Naked and unabashed, he stood, letting her take him in. She trembled with excitement and trepidation. His manhood jutted out, engorged and large. She swallowed down her nerves. Since he was naked, she inhaled and removed her night rail, then sat back against the pillows again and closed her eyes up tight.

The bed dipped and she knew he’d joined her. Still, she didn’t open her eyes. She was afraid and nervous and shy and embarrassed. No man had ever seen her body unclothed.

His fingers skimmed down her cheek and her body tingled. “Open your eyes. You don’t have to hide from me.” His voice was deep and vibrating. Relaxing her facial features, she fluttered her eyes open to find his face close to hers and unease in his eyes. “Do not be nervous.”

She shook her head. “I’m not.”

One dark brow rose. “I don’t believe you.” Then he wrapped his hands around her by the waist and pulled her down so she lay flat and he came down on top of her and claimed her lips. She forgot why she was nervous as he devoured her mouth with his tongue. Breaking the kiss, he placed barely there kisses down her neck, causing her to break out in gooseflesh. His lips continued down to her breasts, and she arched her back and gasped as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, causing pleasure to throb between her thighs. Every time he sucked, she felt a pulse of pleasure down there.

He moved to the next breast and gave it the same treatment, and she thought she would lose her mind if he didn’t stop. Sensations were flooding her, overwhelming her. She didn’t know whether to scream from pleasure or frustration.

And then he moved, kissing his way down her stomach, his tongue circling her bellybutton. Dear God, she was going to die. He nudged open her legs, and then his mouth was there. Shock had her trying to close her legs, but his voice was low and inviting. “Relax and enjoy. You will love this, I promise.”

He licked and sucked her womanhood and moaned out loud while he did so. She reached down and buried her fingers in his thick hair, needing something to anchor herself to as she felt out of control. She was on the edge of a great precipice and afraid she would fall to her death. A pleasurable death, but death nonetheless.

When he slipped a finger inside her body where no one had ever been before, not even herself, she almost sprang up off the bed. Instead, she reached out with her free hand, fisted the sheet tightly, and tossed her head from side to side as something inside her exploded. Her legs shook uncontrollably as sounds she’d never made before escaped her lips and reverberated around the room.

Edmund kissed his way up her body, one hand still between her legs and her body wiggled shamelessly against his hand. And then it was gone, replaced by his hard member as it nudged against her opening, and she tensed. His mouth took hers, and he tasted different, earthy but not unpleasant. She lost herself in his kiss as his member slowly penetrated her body. She broke the kiss and gasped at the fullness of his invasion. He’d barely entered her and she wondered how he would fit.

He buried his head in her neck. “You are tight. You feel so good. Open your legs wider and let me in.”

She did as he asked. He thrust his hips against her hard. She gasped and swallowed the pinch of pain as he filled her completely and then he froze, lifting his head and looked at her with concern. “You are very tight. Am I hurting you?”

“You’re not hurting me.” By this point, the sting was easing, so she let the coming together of their bodies, a rhythm as old as time, work its magic, and she rolled her hips, reached for his face, and kissed him as he’d kissed her before. This time, she tasted him and bit his lip as he pumped himself in and out of her pliant body.

He braced one arm beside her head and moved the other between them and touched her, sending her spiraling over the ravine into the abyss. Edmund arched his back; a loud groan escaped his lips as his face tightened, and she felt the warmth of his seed spread inside her.

He pulled out and rolled onto his side, taking her with him. Her back nestled up against his front. He reached down for the covers, drew them up and held her in his arms. His head nuzzling the back of her neck.

*

Edmund’s heart continued pounding as he held Lilly close to his chest and inhaled her rose fragrance. A fragrance he smelled in the sitting room between what were Henry and Lilly’s chambers the first time he’d been to Langford Manor after his uncle’s death. Unfortunately, his mind wouldn’t relent and let him sleep.

He felt bad leaving her in the middle of the night after they had made love, but there would already be enough talk in the morning among the household. If he could ease the situation by leaving now, he should. He would hate to make Lilly uncomfortable with unnecessary gossip.

He walked home. It took only thirty minutes, and he made his way into his study and poured himself a brandy, his mind still swirling with thoughts of Lilly, of her marriage to his uncle, of his own feeling of being drawn inexorably toward her.

When he’d first returned to London, he’d found two sealed letters in a false bottom drawer he was probably never meant to find. Across each, in Henry’s handwriting, was written For Henry’s eyes only . He had respected his uncle’s privacy and left them where they were unopened. But he reflected now—most desks that he knew of had a drawer like that, so Uncle Henry must have known he would find it someday.

He ignored the tingling feeling on the back of his neck and broke the seal to the first letter. It was a handwritten note.

In case anyone has the whither all to question the marriage between Henry Weston and Lillianna St. Claire, the marriage took place on 10 April 1814 and was consummated on that very night.

His uncle and Lilly had both signed it at the bottom. Edmund found it odd, to say the least.

He cracked the second seal and unfolded the other letter. It was a document drawn up by Mr. Beauregard, and as he read it, Edmund’s eyes widened in shock. Why had his uncle set up a trust in Lilly’s name with such an exorbitant amount of money? As his uncle’s widow, Edmund was obligated to pay Lilly a certain allowance. Did Henry think he would not take care of Lilly? Had he thought so poorly of him that he believed Edmund would not do his duty by her?

In a flash of memory he recalled asking Lilly if she was receiving her monthly allowance from him, and she’d said yes. Why had she never mentioned the trust? Even if he had known about the trust, she was still entitled to the funds from him, and he would continue to pay her what she was due. But why had she kept this truth from him?

His heart began to pound, he began to sweat, and he found it hard to take a deep breath.

Did she have more secrets? Had she told him any outright lies? Was this Annabelle all over again, a connection doomed to end in sorrow?

No sooner could he finally see the possibility of making a future together with Lilly, than his heart was ripped from his chest.

What else was she keeping from him?