The Earl Takes All (26 page)

She wanted people to know that he put others before himself. He wasn't a scapegrace; he didn't take advantage. She wanted people talking about Edward with the respect he deserved. It wasn't right to live one's life in another's shadow.

She skimmed her mouth along his bristly chin. She loved this time of night, when his face was roughened with whiskers, when he appeared slightly uncivilized, a little barbaric. So very, very masculine.

He groaned low, and she felt his chest vibrating where her knees rested against his ribs. She loved how tortured he sounded. She placed her lips against his ear. “I'm going to take you in my mouth.”

His hips reared up. “Jesus.”

“Do you want that?” she asked in a silken throaty voice.

“Yes.”

Lifting up, she met his gaze. “What do you want?”

“For you to take me in your mouth.”

“Then keep your hands where they are.”

Above his head, he interlocked his fingers so tightly she could see the knuckles turning white.

“I want you to remember this night,” she whispered.

“I will remember every moment I ever spent with you.”

She kissed him thoroughly, controlling the depth and tempo of their movements. She felt powerful, strong. Equal. She could drive him as mad as he drove her. She nibbled on his chin, his neck, his collarbone. Watched as the muscles in his arms bunched and flexed as he struggled not to reach for her.

She slid her body down his. He moaned. She flicked her tongue over his hardened nipple. He growled.

Ah, yes, she could taunt and tease to her heart's content. His other nipple received her attention. His breaths became labored, his stomach tautened. She kissed a path along his ribs, down his flat abdomen, which quivered beneath her lips. The tension radiating through him was palpable.

She took her mouth over his hip, across the scar, along an outer thigh to his knee, up the soft inner thigh, up, up until she reached her destination and closed her lips around him. His snarl was that of a man tormented as he held her captive between his legs, squeezing her tightly as his soles caressed her.

Lifting her gaze to his, she took immense satisfaction in the heat burning brightly in his eyes.

“You are a witch.”

Smiling, she returned her attention to revealing just how much of a witch she could be. He swore harshly as she took her sweet time driving him mad. Licking the long length of him, tasting, suckling. If this was to be farewell, she wanted to brand every inch of her over every inch of him.

In the morning, he would leave her bed for the final time. She didn't know where she would find the strength to let him go, but she would somehow. Tonight would become a demarcation in her life, the point where her life parted. On one side was her life with him, on the other side her life without him. One was marked with laughter and love. The other with loneliness.

He would marry and she would find a way to survive it, to live with the knowledge that another lived her dream of warming his bed and bearing his children. Part of her thought it might have been easier to have never known what life with him could be, yet how could she regret a single moment when they would provide sustenance for the coming years?

Suddenly his strong fingers were in her hair, massaging her scalp. “I can't go any longer without touching you.”

He shifted until he was nearly sitting, pulled her up until his mouth was nipping at hers. As he fell back down, she realized she was once again straddling him. Lifting her hips, he guided her until he was buried deeply inside her. She nearly wept at how wonderful it felt to be filled by him.

As she rocked against him, he kneaded her breasts, the sensations rolling through her like waves upon the shore. Crashing and retreating. Powerful, then calm. She braced her hands on either side of his wide shoulders, her hair draped around them, creating a further intimacy, blocking out the world. If only they could block it out forever.

He cradled her hips, providing the support she needed as his thrusts came more quickly, more powerfully. He raised his head, his mouth latching onto her breast, driving her mad as he tugged, as pleasure spiraled until she was crying out his name.

He lifted her up, set himself free, pressing her close against his chest until she was splayed over him, as his body bucked beneath her and he growled her name. He trembled as she quivered, as the remnants of passion had its way with them. Their breathing finally calmed, their bodies stilled.

“Why did you do that?” she asked. “Why did you leave me?”

“I can't risk getting you with child now.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. It was an aspect to coupling that she'd never before had to be concerned over. “Does it make it less pleasurable?”

He kissed the top of her head. “No.”

Gnawing on her lower lip, she suspected he'd lied. “Does it make it less satisfying?”

“If you're asking if I'd rather be inside you, of course I would. But we do what we must.”

She raised her head to look at him. “Are there other ways to ensure that I don't get with child?”

“There is no way to ensure it. What I did lessens the chances, but there are no guarantees.”

Sighing, she settled her head back on his chest, listened to his heart thundering. “I'm going to miss being with you.”

“No more than I shall miss you.”

“Perhaps we'll spend our winter years together, in secret.” When she was too old to have children.

His arms banded more tightly around her. “I shall look forward to growing old.”

The tears formed, and she let them fall, because this man deserved so much more than she could give him.

Chapter 25

J
ulia
awoke alone, his side of the bed empty, as it would remain for the rest of her years. She'd been fortunate enough to love two men in her life. There would not be a third.

Glancing at the clock on the mantel, she saw it was nearly one. She did wish Edward had awoken her before he left, for one more goodbye. But then after that one, she would want another. He had the right of it. Best to just move on.

It had been so easy at Evermore when it was only them, alone, not having to carry on conversations with people in Society. So easy to forget what was at stake, what mattered within the upper echelons they inhabited.

She slipped out of bed. Her stomach roiled. Pressing a hand to her mouth, she realized she probably should not have had the brandy on top of the champagne, especially when she hadn't eaten at the ball. Nothing had appealed. The thought of breakfast didn't appeal now.

As she went to ring for her maid, another wave of nausea rolled through her. She dashed across the room, hung her head over the washbasin and heaved. When she was finished, she poured water from the pitcher into a glass, rinsed out her mouth, grabbed a towel and wiped the perspiration from her face. She did hope she wasn't getting ill.

Starting across the room, intent on yanking the bellpull this time, she stopped, placed a hand on her stomach. Oh dear Lord. Closing her eyes, she began counting back weeks. She hadn't had a menses since welcoming Edward into her bed.

She sank to the floor. This changed everything. She couldn't bring a bastard into the world, not Edward's. Poor child. It didn't matter that his father was an earl. There would be no place for him in Society. If it were a girl . . . it would be so much worse. No good marriage.

Did she deny one child knowing the truth about her father in order to protect another? She didn't see that she had a choice. She had to protect both children. Edward would agree. She knew he would. She had to find him, talk with him.

But after she was dressed for the day, she discovered he was nowhere about. He'd gone out to see to some business. When he returned, they would discuss how best to handle this situation. Until then there was no cause for alarm or worry.

She was going through some of the things Albert had left in his study—­another journal, notes regarding a bill he was considering presenting in the House of Lords, a ball of string, a bent penny, other little things that she desperately wished to know why he'd bothered to keep, wished to understand their significance—­when the butler announced that she had callers and presented the cards of the Duchesses Ashebury, Avendale, and Lovingdon.

Walking into the parlor, she found them standing, a triumvirate of the youngest, most beloved, and powerful ladies of the next generation.

Stepping forward, Minerva took her hands. “My dear, as soon as we received word of what had transpired within the House of Lords this afternoon, we thought to come here and offer our support.”

Julia's stomach dropped, a million possibilities, each one of them involving Edward, racing through her mind. “What transpired?”

“The Earl of Greyling stood before the assembly and announced that he was Edward Alcott. That it was Albert who was killed in Africa.”

She shook her head in disbelief, her knees growing weak. It wasn't supposed to happen that way. He was to write a letter to the
Times,
he wasn't supposed to face his peers so publicly.

“He said you only learned of the truth last night. That it was time to bring the farce to an end.”

“Farce?” she repeated.

“He swore that nothing untoward passed between you,” Grace, Duchess of Lovingdon, said. “That you are an innocent in all of this.”

Minerva studied her face. “But he lied, didn't he?”

She could only shake her head. Until she understood his plan, knew exactly what he was telling people, she could neither confirm nor deny anything. Why hadn't he discussed the matter with her before he did anything so rash? “Shall I ring for tea?”

“I think we should sit.”

“Yes.” She took a chair, while the ladies lined up on the sofa, with Minerva closest to her. Although she appreciated that they were offering their support, all she wanted was to usher them out the door so she could find Edward.

“I'm sure Ashe will be here presently,” Minerva said. “I left word for him that I was coming straight over, although he will probably head here anyway. Grace was the one who first received word.”

“Why now?” Rose, Duchess of Avendale, asked. “Why confess now and not before?”

She shook her head. “I'm rather baffled right now, ladies. I hardly know what to say.” Not until she spoke with Edward.

The slamming of the front door had her jumping to her feet, nearly dashing from the room to greet Edward and ask him what the bloody hell he'd been thinking. Only it was Ashebury who barged into the room.

“Where is he?” he demanded. “Is he here?”

“No, I don't know where he is. What exactly happened?”

“He stood up in the House of Lords and declared himself to be Edward. He confessed that his original intent was to honor a vow he made to Albert to ensure you didn't lose the babe but then he realized it was to his benefit to continue on with the ruse, as he had considerable gaming debts and the unsavory men holding his markers were not the forgiving sort.”

“Is that true?” Minerva asked before Julia could.

“Absolutely not. At least not what he told me,” Ashe said.

“Would he have told you if he was in trouble?” his wife inquired.

Ashe sighed. “When it comes to Edward, who knows? He loves to tell stories, but I have no reason to believe he lied.”

“So he lied to all the other lords?” Minerva seemed horrified.

“Apparently so.”

“Why would he do that?”

“To protect me,” Julia said.

“How does his story do that when you have been living together for months now?”

She had no response to that question.

“Edward explained that away,” Ashe began, “by assuring everyone that his relationship with Julia remained chaste. Naturally, no one found that difficult to believe, as we all know he never had a kind word for you. He went on to say that you were growing suspicious, so he paid off his debts and he is once again free. Or some rubbish like that. I could scarce believe what I was hearing. Of course, the chambers erupted and he walked out.”

“Probably in need of a stiff drink,” Minerva offered.

He smiled at his wife, before looking at Julia. “I was waylaid, as everyone pounced on me to find out if I'd known what he was up to and if it was true.”

“Why did you say?” she asked.

“What could I say? That I've never known him to lie. I just wish he'd bloody well told me what he planned so I would have been prepared and could have provided my support in a more effective manner. I'm rather certain I resembled a fish that finds itself flopping about on shore.”

Which she suspected was the very reason Edward hadn't told him. He wanted his reaction to be honest. “He didn't want to draw you into our mess.”

“Well he should have. That's what brothers are for. I know I'm not his brother by blood, but I am, by God, his brother!”

“Darling,” Minerva said, rubbing her hand up and down his arm, “you must calm yourself.”

“I simply don't understand his strategy.”

“Is anyone talking about me?” Julia asked.

“No, they're all . . .” He sighed. “He is the one they are speculating about. And not very flatteringly I'm afraid. Hiding behind his brother's death and a woman's skirts. Which I assume is what he meant to accomplish—­painting himself as a villain.”

“In a year or so he'll be forgiven,” Minerva said.

“In all likelihood, yes,” Ashe confirmed, before turning his attention back to Julia. “Should his words not be enough to protect you, know that I, Minerva, and Locke—­even though he is not in London—­will stand by you.”

“As will we,” the Duchess of Lovingdon said. “And Avendale. We've all been touched by scandal in one way or another. It's easier to ride out the storm if you're not alone in the boat.”

“I'm going to pour us all a drink,” Ashebury said.

“Scotch,” the three duchesses said in unison.

The duke raised a brow at Julia. “Nothing for me, thank you,” she told him. If she were with child, she wasn't going to indulge in spirits. Nor was she going to tell Edward. She didn't need to burden him when he already had so much on his plate. She would return to Evermore and, once there, determine how best to handle the situation.

Her guests sat in her parlor sipping their spirits. Julia had sandwiches and cakes brought in. Darkness fell.

Ashebury began to pace. “Where the deuce is he?”

“Gentleman's club?” Minerva asked.

“I don't think he'd be in the mood for the company of lords. If anything, he's probably in someplace like St. Giles, trying to get lost.” He looked at Julia. “Do you have any clue as to where he might be?”

She had a fairly good one, but the fact that he wasn't here and Ashebury didn't know where to look told her that Edward wanted no company. “I'm afraid I don't. But I'm sure he'll return here when he's ready. I'll send word when he does. No reason for you to ruin your evening by staying and keeping me company.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why do I have the impression that you're trying to get rid of us?”

“Because I am. Nothing is to be gained by your being here, and it's quite possible that your carriages out front are keeping him walking the streets.”

Ashebury looked as though he were contemplating what he might gain by throttling her.

“She's quite right,” Minerva announced, coming to her feet. “We should be off.”

Ashe pointed a finger at her. “Send word as soon as he gets here.”

Minerva wrapped her hand around his finger. “It's rude to point, dear.”

“I want to know that he's all right.”

“I'll send word,” Julia assured him.

He still seemed somewhat disgruntled as he escorted the ladies out.

Julia waited half an hour before ordering a footman to have a carriage readied.

H
e'd
known she would figure out where he was . . . eventually. At half past nine she walked in to the library of the residence he'd begun leasing last year. He rose from his chair beside the fire. “I have brandy waiting for you.”

He'd already set a glass for her on the table beside the chair opposite his.

She touched his cheek, held his gaze. “Why did you do it?”

“I told you that I would set matters right.”

“But so publicly and in front of all your peers.”

“It was the only way to protect you and Allie, to be seen as a weasel. Since according to my tale you only just discovered you are in mourning, there's no reason for you to remain in London. As a matter of fact, to give credence to my story, it would be best if I returned the mourning widow to Evermore posthaste. People will expect you to go into seclusion. I can come back here later to face the piper.”

Rising up on her toes, she feathered the hair back from his temple. “I don't believe I've ever loved you more.”

And then she kissed him.

Banding his arms around her, he held her tightly, angling his head so he could take the kiss deeper. He was going to miss this: the taste of her, the feel of her tongue, the press of her lips. The little mewling sounds she made before the passion took hold and she began moaning in earnest.

When she drew back, she settled in the chair, lifted her glass. “To my wolf.”

He wasn't feeling much like a wolf. Still, he sat, took a sip of his scotch.

“Ashebury is worried about you,” she said, setting her glass—­barely touched—­aside.

“That's why I came here. Knew he would seek me out, remind me that he had urged me months ago to reveal the truth of my deception. Didn't want to hear him gloating about being right.”

“He wasn't gloating. I believe he's genuinely concerned that you're in need of a friend.”

All he needed was her, and he could no longer have her. “Was he the one who told you?”

“No, I was visited by three duchesses.”

“Ashebury and—­” He arched a brow.

“Lovingdon and Avendale.”

“Ah, yes.”

“I won't leave London and have you face them all alone. I'll stand by you and confirm whatever details of the story you told.”

He didn't want her here for the Season, the scandal. She was safe but he wasn't going to be welcomed anywhere for a while.

“Let me take you to Evermore. I won't stay in London. I'll go on to another estate. By the time you're officially out of mourning this will all be forgotten.”

“That's what Minerva said. That it won't take long before you're forgiven.”

He lifted his glass. “Let's hope she has the right of it. I'd like to stop by Havisham if you've no objection. I know it's out of the way, but I want Marsden to meet Allie. He's the closest thing she has to a grandfather.”

“Will it be difficult explaining things to him?”

“Locke already told him the truth. He wanted to ensure his father was mourning the correct brother.”

“So we'll be welcomed.”

“With open arms.”

“That'll be nice. I'd like to stop by there, then.” She glanced around. “Never been in your residence before, but it doesn't remind me of you.”

“Most of the furnishings belonged to Ashe. As usual, I took the easy way. Simply purchased what was already here.”

She scowled at him. “You don't take the easy way, Edward. I don't believe you ever have. You work hard to make people believe you're a slacker, but you're not.”