Page 13 of The Earl’s Gamble (The Lovers’ Arch: Later in Life)

13

Rose

“ C an I ask you something?” Rose began, resting her head on Griff’s chest. She’d underestimated just how wonderful it would be to spend the night in his arms, his touch leisurely tracing across her shoulders down to the curve in her waist.

He took the half-full cup of tea she passed him and put it on the bedside table—next to the breakfast he’d hunted down and brought back to their cosy little love nest. “Of course.”

“What this is between us.” She gave him a meaningful look. “Is it something you’ve explored with other women?”

Griff gave a shake of his head, squeezing her slightly. “No. Only you.”

The answer made her feel simultaneously treasured and saddened, especially given his reaction to the dynamic between them. “Why?”

“Men aren’t supposed to want the things I want.”

She frowned. “Says who?”

“Society, Rose. I’ve always known my proclivities weren’t shared by other men. If it got out that the Earl of Harpenden wants to…to be commanded by a woman, the tabloids would be sure to pick it up and make my life a living misery. Not to mention the impact on my family. It was safer for it to remain a fantasy.”

Her eyebrows pulled together into a compassionate crease. “You shared it with me. ”

“You seem to enjoy having me at your disposal. And…” A smile pulled at his lip, affection dancing in his eyes. “You have my heart,” he said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world. “My love.” His hand cradled hers, brushing across the orange stone adorning her finger. “My ring. And soon you’ll have my title.”

Her eyes bulged when a thought occurred to her. “Does that mean other people will call me my lady ?” she asked, scrunching her lips to the side.

Griff didn’t look overly happy about that either. “Yes, they will. You’ll be Lady Harpenden.”

“That sounds awfully grand.” It was certainly a long way away from growing up in a poverty-stricken lodging house in Dorset Street at the height of the Whitechapel murders. “Although I’m not sure about hearing Walker calling me my la… ”

She trailed off, her expression falling. In the shock of Griff’s proposal and everything that had happened thereafter, she’d completely forgotten that she had another visitor earlier in the evening.

Griff’s eyes flicked between hers. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Rose swallowed, unsure of how to word it. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

She hated how the happiness on his face vanished, replaced by looming dread. There was a beat of tension in his jaw. “Have you changed your mind?”

She shook her head so violently it was in danger of toppling off. “No! Not at all.” She launched into it, not wanting him to wallow in uncertainty any longer than he already had to—especially if he was thinking she’d changed her mind. “After I came up here last night, I had a visitor.”

“Who?”

Her tongue nervously swiped over her bottom lip. “Walker.”

Griff’s dark eyebrow hitched. “What did he want? ”

“He said that I…I didn’t belong here. He offered me three hundred pounds on the condition that I leave there and then. Apparently a cab was waiting to take me back to London.”

Eyes slitting into narrow lines of ferocity, Griff’s shoulders stiffened, until the fury pouring off him burnt white-hot. “Just like that? So I would have come up here and you would have been gone?”

She nodded, slightly unsure how to behave with a Griff so full of anger. A childhood in Spitalfields taught her that anger could easily be redirected to the nearest possible target.

A squeak of shock burst from her when Griff snatched her closer, his arms locking around her like steel. Her thighs straddled his, their torsos pressed against one another. “But you said no?” he whispered, pulling back to look her in the eye. “Right?”

“Of course I said no,” she whispered, kissing the tip of his nose.

“But I hadn’t proposed yet. You thought I was still marrying Lady fucking Jilly, and three hundred pounds is a small fortune. So why…?” Griff left the question open.

Rose cocked her head softly. She gave a little shrug. “Because I’m your lady. Am I not?”

Griff reversed their positions, throwing her against the bedcovers amidst a wave of giggles. Her head dented the feather pillow, but she was more concerned with the hard, naked man looming over her.

“Too fucking right,” he snarled, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke—before they descended in truth, devouring her mewl of pleasure. Beneath the covers, his rigid length pressed against her thighs. It slotted into position, slowly sliding inside her until his hips met hers, offering dizzying ecstasy with every stroke.

And by the time Rose remembered her half-full cup of tea on the bedside table, it was stone cold.

“What time do you call this?” Clarissa asked with an amused smirk, as the two of them finally resurfaced from their flurry of bedroom activities somewhere around teatime.

After a quick stop-off in Griff’s office, that was.

Even though there was no bite to the question, fiery embarrassment singed the edges of Rose’s cheekbones. She took a seat on the settee, grateful for its plump cushions. She and Griff had bathed together before coming downstairs, but she was feeling…somewhat tender.

Griff merely glared at his mother in faux disappointment, spreading himself out next to Rose. “Don’t scare her off now, Mama.”

“I wasn’t trying to scare you off, Rose darling.” Clarissa’s soft gaze positively radiated with motherly pride as she glanced between the two of them. “I’m simply glad you’re happy.”

Griff caught Rose’s eye, his chocolate hair light and full of life after being doused with the hairdryer. “I am.” But then he pulled away, fixing a serious look at his mother. “But I do need to discuss something with you.”

“The wedding?” Clarissa guessed hopefully.

“Your trip to Cornwall.”

Clarissa’s mouth turned down in disappointment. “Oh. What about it? ”

“How much money did you take out of the safe before leaving?” he asked, his hand settling on Rose’s waist. It was possession and adoration all squeezed into one delicious little touch, and she loved it.

“I didn’t take any money out of the safe,” Clarissa said, jerking back in confusion. “Why?”

An air of resignation settled around Griff as his gaze met Rose’s, and she knew the answer he was going to give. “Because there’s several hundred pounds missing from it.”

“Are you sure it’s not just been mislaid somewhere?”

“No, Mama. It’s been stolen.” Griff huffed out a long breath, getting to his feet and yanking the bell pull.

It wasn’t long before Walker came scurrying. The disgusted mien he’d heaved at her last night had vanished, hidden behind the dignified front he presented to Griff. “You rang, my lord.”

Griff stood, waving his hand. “Come in, Walker. You’ll be pleased to hear of my upcoming marriage.”

“What excellent news.” Relief flickered in Walker’s eyes. “Please allow me to offer my congratulations, my lord. Lady Jilly will make a fine countess.”

“Certainly a punctual one,” Griff replied. There was something wolfish in his tone that made Rose wish they were back in bed. “But no, Lady Jilly will not be my countess. I’m delighted to announce that Miss Finch is to become Lady Harpenden.”

Walker’s expression soured, until his pallor resembled fermented milk. He swallowed, clearly attempting to erase his distaste for the idea. “She…she will be the fourth Lady Harpenden I have had the honour of serving, my lord.”

“No.” Griff didn’t bother to hide his anger. “She won’t be.”

“My lord? ”

Her husband-to-be offered him a question instead of an answer. “Remind me, Walker. How much is your salary?”

Walker recoiled slightly, his gaze travelling around the room. “Two—two pounds per week, my lord.”

Griff nodded. “And yet last night you offered my fiancée ￡300 to leave me. The exact sum missing from my safe.”

“ What ?” Clarissa swivelled in her seat “Is that true, Walker?”

To his credit, Walker looked her in the eye. “Yes, my lady.”

“Why?” Griff bit out.

“To protect you , to protect the estate,” Walker fired back, his voice rising. “I’ve dedicated my life to serving your family, my lord. Allowing her brother to be your servant was one thing, but making someone like her a countess ? It’s madness. She’s no better than a common whor—”

“ Enough .” Griff’s snarled shout dominated the room, so at odds with who he was when they were in bed together. “Your time serving my family is at an end, Walker. Fifty years of service is the only reason I’m not having you thrown in a cell, but nor am I willing to shelter you for another night. Go upstairs and pack.”

Walker shook his head in disbelief. “You’re throwing me out? Just like that?”

“No, I expect the missing ￡300 back first. But after that? Yes. You’ll have your pension and severance package.” Griff took a step forward, his eyes blazing with malignant humour. “But don’t worry. The chauffeur will take you into London and put you up for the night. Tomorrow you’ll be on your own. Now get out of my sight.”

Rose’s focus was glued to Griff as he threw a hateful look at Walker’s retreating back before rejoining her on the settee. She fiddled idly with her new ring. Despite Walker’s actions, it was difficult to contemplate anyone being turfed out of their home after half a century .

Her distaste must have shown on her face. “Don’t worry, dear,” Clarissa’s gentle tone urged her. “His pension is more than enough to live off in his dotage. It’s not like he’ll be in a workhouse. Will he, Griff?”

Griff gave a grumbled scoff. “Don’t give me ideas.”

“So...” Clarissa clapped excitedly. “When would you like to hold the wedding?”

Griff’s warm hand lifted Rose’s to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “What do you think, my love?”

Rose’s worries disappeared as she looked into his eyes—because her future beckoned, and she couldn’t wait to meet it. “As soon as can be arranged.”