Page 20 of The Accidental Countess (Accidentally in Love #1)

U pon their arrival at the house, Farnsworth mumbled apologies. “My lord, the other servants arrived only a few hours ago. I am so terribly sorry. I fear your rooms may not be ready yet.”

“Then prepare them now. Put my wife’s belongings with mine.”

Emily bristled at his order. Her face burned at the thought of their stolen night at the inn and her refusal to lie with him. “I would prefer to sleep in my own bedchamber.”

Stephen’s gaze fixed upon hers in a direct challenge. But he voiced his command to Farnsworth. “You heard my orders.”

Emily’s posture stiffened. So, he was angry. Nevertheless, she didn’t regret her decision. Too much was unsettled between them. There would be time to argue about this later.

Victoria awoke and started whining, her fists rubbing her eyes. Royce said nothing, hanging back behind her skirts. “Farnsworth, please prepare the children’s rooms first,” Emily instructed. Both children had reached the point of exhaustion.

“Are you hungry?” she asked Royce. They had eaten supper at a village hours ago, and the boy shook his head.

“Then let’s get the two of you off to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Royce’s face grew worried, and he stopped to tug at Farnsworth’s sleeve. “Did my father come for me while I was gone?”

The butler blinked. “I beg your pardon?” He sent Emily and Stephen a questioning look. She shook her head, sending him a silent warning.

“Royce, it’s late. We’ve discussed this before.”

“He wouldn’t leave us here without coming to get us. I know he wouldn’t.”

She didn’t know what to say. Though she had told him that Daniel was never coming back, her nephew still remained in denial.

Stephen took the boy’s hand in his. “It is time for bed, Royce.”

The boy fought him, kicking Stephen in the shins. “You cannot tell me what to do. You’re not my father!”

“Your father is dead,” Stephen said softly. Emily winced at his direct tone, but there was nothing to be done. “And you dishonor his memory with your temper tantrum.”

The boy let out an infuriated roar, pounding his fists upon the earl’s shoulder. “Let go of me! I don’t want to go to bed.”

Stephen ignored him. To Emily, he directed, “I shall look after him. See to the baby, if you would.”

She wanted desperately to interfere. Would he give the boy a whipping for his tantrum? The determined expression on Stephen’s face suggested that he would brook no further arguments.

The infant wailed louder, and Emily was forced to give Victoria over to Anna to feed her.

When it abruptly fell silent upstairs, Emily worried that the earl had done something drastic.

“Your aunt is not here to rescue you, so you might as well be silent,” Stephen told Royce. “If you continue to disobey, you will be punished.”

He had never actually punished an errant child before and had no real wish to do so. But as he’d hoped, the threat worked. Royce stopped struggling and stared at him with fascination. The boy wasn’t staring out of fear but out of curiosity. “What is that?”

In the midst of Royce fighting him off, he’d clawed at Stephen’s shirt, loosening the collar. Likely the boy had glimpsed the tattoo.

Stephen turned around to reveal the full design. “Have you seen this before?”

Royce bobbed his head. “Father had one.”

Interesting. Though he was no closer to learning the meaning of the design, he wondered whether Carstairs or Hollingford had been responsible for the stolen shipment profits.

“Do you know what it means?”

The boy shook his head. “I asked Father to let me have one, but he said not until I was older.”

“Your father was right.” Stephen adjusted his shirt to hide the tattoo.

”I am older now,“ Royce argued.

“Not old enough.”

Royce scowled, even as he climbed into bed. “I still don’t like you.”

“I still don’t like you either. Go to sleep.”

“Are you my uncle now?” Royce asked. “I don’t want you to be.”

Stephen hadn’t thought of it, but he supposed he was. “To my great misfortune, I am your uncle now.”

“If you die, you won’t be my uncle anymore,” Royce offered.

Stephen hid his amusement. “Planning to do me in, are you?”

Royce pondered this a moment before saying, “Not until I’m older.”

“How very reassuring. I shall sleep better at night, knowing it. Be sure to let me know the date on which you plan to kill me, won’t you?”

A devilish smile creased Royce’s mouth as he closed his eyes.

Stephen shook his head at the boy’s active imagination and pulled the door shut behind him. Down the hall, he heard Victoria wailing loud enough to shatter glass. He ignored it and entered his room where he saw that a servant had delivered the baggage. But his wife’s belongings were nowhere to be seen.

Why did Emily insist on being so stubborn? After opening the door to her original chamber, he found the battered valise. Upon a quick inspection of its contents, he saw that it contained only the black dresses she owned and the lavender tarlatan gown. She’d brought none of the day dresses or the jewels he’d given her.

Almost as if she didn’t want any part of him.

Last night, he’d made her cry. He’d been completely unprepared for the tears, after he’d been caught up with the intent of seducing her. Though she’d claimed that he hadn’t hurt her, he knew differently. He’d hurt her feelings when he couldn’t remember their wedding, or their first night as husband and wife. And then there was the night at his family’s ball when he’d refused to acknowledge her.

Stephen discarded his traveling clothes and changed into a silk dressing robe. Pouring himself a glass of sherry from the decanter, he relaxed in a chair. Victoria was still crying, from the sound of it.

He propped up his feet, wondering if it were even possible to gain Emily’s affections. He’d expected the gifts of dresses and jewels to make her happy, but she’d left them behind. He realized that he knew almost nothing about her. Only the book of cooking receipts had made her smile.

The sound of Victoria’s incessant screaming kept interrupting his thoughts.

Time passed and there was no sign of Emily. The baby’s cries would die down, only to rise up again within minutes. Stephen didn’t know what was going on, but if it meant his wife needed help, so be it.

Victoria sobbed, her face puckered with fury. Emily tried to rock her, but the motion only made the infant cry harder. Looking at the baby, Emily wished she knew what was wrong. She had never felt so helpless.

She walked the length of the nursery, holding Victoria to her shoulder and bouncing her in a rhythm. Victoria’s cries diminished at the new position, and her arms clenched around Emily’s neck.

She walked the distance six more times before the baby’s cries subsided into hiccups. When Victoria drifted into sleep, Emily tiptoed to the crib. She prayed that Victoria would finally surrender to her exhaustion.

The moment she laid her down, the baby shrieked and screamed louder. Emily lifted her up again, shushing the child as tears ran down her own face. How had she ever thought she could do this? How could she believe she would make a good mother when she could not even put a baby to sleep?

The door opened and Stephen stepped inside. “What is wrong? Why won’t she stop crying?”

“I don’t know. She’s already been fed. Perhaps it’s the unfamiliar room. She might be frightened.”

“Don’t be foolish. The child can’t be old enough for such nonsense. Put her to bed and after she cries a bit, she’ll sleep.”

“This isn’t the same thing at all,” Emily protested. “I’ve tried that already.” Victoria’s screams escalated, and Emily shushed her, bouncing while she paced.

“Give her back to Anna.” Stephen glared at the baby, as though a harsh look would make the child stop crying. “She needs to sleep.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” But her own weariness from the journey had crept over her, making it harder to remain calm. “Anna has already tried, but she won’t stop crying.”

Stephen held out his arms and took Victoria. The baby wriggled in his grasp, arching her back and howling. “Here, now,” he said gently. “What seems to be the matter?” He patted her on the shoulder, but it did nothing to soothe the infant.

Emily itched to take the baby back from him, but she dared not. He wanted to help, and she owed him the chance to try.

Just as before, Stephen settled Victoria into a rhythm of walking, holding her close and rubbing her tiny shoulders. His deep voice murmured words of comfort to the baby.

“Go to our room,” Stephen instructed. “I’ll be there as soon as she’s asleep.”

“But what if she doesn’t? What if—”

“You’re tired. I’ll look after her until she falls asleep.” He settled Victoria against his chest, and the baby wept with fatigue. His eyes gleamed. “You could always await me naked in bed.”

She didn’t respond to his teasing. Desperately, she wanted to accept his help, but she hated the thought of leaving. “Are you certain you want to stay with her?”

“Go.” He kept up his pattern of walking, and Emily left them alone. The crying slowed, and Victoria emitted whimpering noises.

Emily closed the door and waited with her ear pressed up to the wood for several minutes. The crying didn’t stop, but she felt a rhythmic vibration on the floor from Stephen pacing. Though he had told her to go back to the room, she couldn’t until she knew Victoria was asleep. She sank down against the door, her weight resting against the wood.

As time drifted on, she hugged her knees to her chest, exhaustion weighing down on her shoulders like a heavy woolen blanket. Minutes drifted into hours, and at last she fell asleep when Victoria’s crying faded into silence.

“Lady Whitmore?” a male voice asked. Emily opened her eyes and saw Farnsworth standing before her. Her back ached, and she had no idea what time it was. But somehow it was morning. Farnsworth carried a tray with a teapot and at the sight Emily longed to snatch it from him. Nothing seemed more inviting than a hot cup of tea.

“I shall take the tray to the earl,” she volunteered, rising to her feet. Her neck felt as though someone had hammered it repeatedly with a mallet, but she accepted the tray.

Farnsworth waited, and Emily nodded toward the room. “Open the door for me, if you please.”

He did, and after he closed it behind her, Emily gaped at the scene she beheld. Stephen lay stretched out, his feet propped up while he sat in a stuffed wingback chair. Upon his chest, Victoria snored, her body draped across his.

He must have walked the floor for hours, comforting the baby. She couldn’t begin to tell him how much it meant to her.

She set the tray down, tiptoeing so as not to wake them. His dark hair fell over his eyes while a strong arm held the baby securely in place. Victoria gripped his silk dressing robe in her fists.

The sight of them held her transfixed. She longed to tell him how grateful she was for helping with the children. Last night he had handled both Royce’s tantrum and Victoria’s crying.

She reached out to him and brushed the wayward strand of hair from his forehead. His straight nose and gentle mouth lured her closer. Before she could stop her impulse, she leaned down and pressed her mouth to his.

Stephen woke at the touch of her lips. For a moment, he appeared confused about where he was. Then he straightened, careful so as not to wake Victoria.

“How did you get the baby to fall asleep?” she asked.

“I put a warm cloth beneath her left ear.” He pointed to a discarded blanket. “She kept tugging at it last night, and the heat seemed to ease her pain. You might wish to have Dr. Parsons examine her today, however.”

“I’ll send for him.” She poured him a cup of tea and set it on the table, taking Victoria from his arms. The baby moaned, tucking her head beneath Emily’s chin. Gently, Emily set her down in the crib. Thankfully, the child did not awaken.

Stephen took a sip of tea. “Somehow, I doubt you waited for me in bed last night.”

She shrugged. “I slept outside the door.”

“And I suppose you were wearing clothes, too.”

His regretful tone almost made her smile. “I didn’t want to shock Farnsworth.”

“Don’t wear them tonight,” he said, his voice deep and resonant.

“Stephen, I don’t think—”

“I made you cry,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry for that. But not for touching you.” His voice took on a deeper timbre, making her flush. “You didn’t kiss me properly before.”

“It was only meant to thank you,” she said. “I didn’t intend to bother you.”

“I want you to bother me.” He leaned forward, resting his wrists upon his open knees.

“What is it you want, Stephen? You haven’t even decided whether or not to keep me as your wife.” Her heart ached, but she had to voice her greatest fear—that he would turn his back on her now.

“And what if I do?”

A frail hope took root, but she was too afraid it wasn’t real. “I don’t know if I believe that. Even if there wasn’t a threat on your life, we’ve become so different.”

Stephen rose and took a step forward. Then another. “We weren’t so different years ago.”

He lifted her chin until she could not turn away. His hands cupped her face, his eyes weary. Beneath the shadows of fatigue, she saw a man who had stayed up all night for a child he barely knew. “Let us try, Emily.”

She lost herself in those eyes, in his compassion. When his mouth met hers, she met his kiss without holding herself back. Heat and feverish sensation spiraled through her, awakening her with desire. His mouth moved over her lips, not forcing her, but letting her know the fullness of his own need.

It was happening again. She was falling under his sensual spell, letting herself believe in the fairytale.

She pulled back, her pulse trembling. His dark hair was unkempt while her lips were raw from the bristle of his unshaven face.

“Send for Anna and the doctor.”

Her brain wouldn’t work, couldn’t understand what he wanted. “Anna and the doctor?” she repeated.

“Anna can watch over the baby until the doctor can have a look at her. In the meantime, we’ve unfinished business between us.”

He laced his fingers with hers, pulling her toward him. Emily suspected his intent, but she shied away. “What are you talking about?”

His hand moved down her spine, fingers curled below the dip of her waist. “I’d rather show you what I mean.”

“It’s too soon.” She hugged her waist, taking another step away. “We barely know each other.”

“I shared your bed once before, didn’t I? On our wedding night.”

“Yes, but you don’t remember any of it.” Panic mingled with her own forbidden desire. What if she didn’t please him? What if he found their union disappointing?

“I remembered everything last night. All is clear.”

“Liar.” She didn’t believe a word of it. “I think you would say anything to me, if it brought me back into your bed.”

He nodded solemnly. “I would, yes.”

At his blunt honesty, a choked laugh escaped her. “Not a good idea, Whitmore.”

“I could show you what a good idea it would be.” He moved her palms upon the muscles of his chest.

Emily shook her head. “I need time first.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want a day without arguing or fighting.” She moved her hands to his shoulders, away from temptation. “A chance to get reacquainted. I married you because of who you were growing up. I want to know who you are now.”

“I’m your husband.” He captured her lips again, devouring her mouth until fire ignited upon her skin. She felt alive as sensations swelled within her. Her hands threaded through his hair while he taught her what it meant to burn for him.

She pulled herself back again. Her breathing was unsteady, and she held on to him for balance. She was afraid that when he let her go, her knees might buckle.

“And I promise to tempt you as you’ve never been tempted before,” he said huskily.

His words made her long to cast her inhibitions away, to welcome him into her arms. But she was afraid to trust him, afraid that he’d betray her again.

“You can try,” she said at last, terrified of what she had just agreed to.