Page 31 of The Earl Takes All
After rising to his feet, he walked to the door, paused in the threshold, glanced back. “Nothing ever stays the same, Julia, no matter how much we wish it.”
Then he was gone, leaving her to wonder what exactly he’d meant by that.
Thekisses were going to be his undoing. As he riffled through the various drawers in the credenza in his brother’s study, searching for any semblance of a will, the disturbing conversation he’d had with Julia rumbled through his mind. He feared that his kisses reminded her of the one he’d bestowed in the garden. A kiss was simply a kiss—
But he’d received enough to know that they differed. Yet he also knew that they changed over time, as a couple became more familiar. Or at least the kisses he gave at the beginning of the night seemed different by the end of it. His relationships with women were short-lived, as he had no desire for anything permanent. He was grateful that he’d been able to speak with complete honesty regarding the fact that he’d not been with a woman, not kissed a woman, while he was away. Still, he understood her suspicions. He wasn’t acting like a man who was treading along familiar ground, but rather one exploring new avenues of discovery.
With a harsh curse, he slammed a drawer closed, frustrated by his lack of finding any mention from Albert regarding the arrangements he had made in the event of his death, as well as his own inability to completely embrace his deceptive role as a counterfeit earl. He dreaded tonight, when they would dine, sit in the library, converse. Damn Albert for loving his wife. It would be so much easier if they had shared a platonic relationship and welcomednotbeing in each other’s company.
After taking a final walk through the room, searching for any hidden nooks or crannies, he decided he’d have to pen a letter to the solicitor. He could do it here, but he preferred the library. Once there, he poured himself a scotch, downed it in one swallow in order to shake off his lingering frustrations. So many things Albert should have told him that he hadn’t. Why hadn’t they ever discussed how Albert would want Julia cared for in the event of his demise?
At the desk, Edward tapped his finger on the mahogany wood, striving to determine how best to word the letter to the solicitor so he didn’t give himself away. His gaze drifted to the ebony box. He was relatively certain that Julia would have sent acknowledgments to everyone who had offered condolences. The thought of reading them held no appeal, seemed a betrayal of sorts, as people were paying tribute to a man who still breathed. After shoving it to the very edge of the desk, he leaned back in his chair, studied the paneled ceiling.
Julia had the right of it. This room more than any other reminded him of Albert. If he were to claim a room as his, it would be the billiards room. He wondered which room Julia might have claimed as her own. When he envisioned her, he always saw her in the bedchamber, which conjured up dangerous images of her stretched out on the bed with slumberous eyes—
Oh, he needed a woman. She was one he could not ever have. That he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her was a testament to his body’s needs rather than her desirous state. She was swollen with child, for God’s sake. Nothing attractive there.
Except her hands were so silken and warm when they traveled over his chest, his back. Her mouth was fiery and eager. Her moans were low and throaty.
Shoving back the chair, he got to his feet and stormed to the window. He was so hot that he was surprised he didn’t ignite. He should go to the mausoleum, remind himself of the debt he owed his brother. Pressing his forehead to the cool glass, he realized that he needed to replace images of her in the bedchamber with those of her elsewhere.
The dining room, perhaps. Closing her lips around her fork, a look of sensual delight crossing her face. Her tongue quickly touching the corner of her mouth— No, not the dining room. If he wandered through the residence, he might find a place in which he could view her as unattractive and boring. He owed it to his sanity to give it a go.
The manor house was large, two wings. One could roam the halls for days and not come across anyone else. It had been relatively easy to avoid her when he would come to visit; except now he was supposed to be someone who yearned to be in her company. If he crossed paths with her, he could claim to have been looking for her. It would be a lie, of course, he wasn’t wandering about, peering into one room after another because hewishedto see her. Disappointment didn’t punch his gut because he found each room empty. Rather, he decided, it was only because the rooms didn’t suit his needs.
None reminded him of her. They seemed too harsh, imposing, not nearly as welcoming.
He should suggest she redo the residence so it reflected her more than any countess who came before her. It wasn’t as though he had any sentimental attachment to anything. He didn’t even know which rooms his mother might have decorated or if she had. When he was a child, most of his time had been spent in the day or night nursery except when he and Albert were paraded out to be inspected by their parents for a few minutes in the afternoon or evening. He had far more memories of his nanny than he did of either parent.
He was much fonder of Havisham than Evermore. Although many of the rooms there were locked, they’d been free to roam the hallways to their heart’s content. While he and Albert had walked through every inch of this residence, most of it was still foreign to him. He was more at home in his London residence.
He needed to become more at home here. Albert would want his son raised within these walls, which meant much of his carousing was behind him. He’d have to set a good example, teach the boy how to be a proper lord. He’d never planned to marry, to have children, yet here he was on the cusp of raising a lad without enjoying any of the marital benefits. No woman in his bed every night. Not that he relished the warmth of Julia’s body snuggled against his. Not that he was going to miss the sound of her breathing when his ruse was no longer necessary. Not that he drew solace from watching her in peaceful slumber.
At the end of a long hallway, he peered into a corner room papered with yellow flowers. Floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall provided a view of the rolling hills. There was an absence of clutter and, for the most part, furniture. A small settee sat before the fireplace, with a large table behind it decorated with an assortment of drawings. Near one of the windows, Julia sat on a plush bench, an easel in front of her, watercolors on a small stand beside her.
He could see only a portion of her profile, but she appeared so serene, so calm, a direct contrast to the wind battering the trees and the dark clouds rolling ominously across the sky. He would like to see her bathed in sunlight. He suspected she had chosen this room because of the days when the sun would warm her.
And she was singing, a soft, lyrical song about angels watching over a wee one as the babe slept. He imagined her holding that child, rocking it, and singing the same tune. He doubted he would ever see the sight. She would banish him from her life when she learned the truth. He didn’t understand why his chest suddenly felt as though it might cave in.
He would be in the child’s life, would insist on it, but he could not force himself into the mother’s. Whatever time he would have with her would be fleeting, moments shared only until the birth, only until no reason existed for him not to reveal his deception.
But until that moment he was her husband—if not in truth, then in deceit, for a greater good. To honor a vow he’d made without considering consequences.
He tried to imagine what Albert would do at this moment, but then what did it really matter? She and he had acknowledged that changes had occurred during their separation. He had to stop treading too lightly, had to stop worrying over mimicking Albert. He could be himself, within reason. So he decided to give in to temptation.
As quietly as possible, he crept over the thick Aubusson carpeting until he was directly behind her. He cupped his hands on either side of her waist. She gave a start, a tiny gasp. He pressed his lips against her nape. With a soft sigh, she dropped her head back.
“I didn’t hear you enter.”
He trailed his mouth to the silken sensitive spot below her ear. “I wanted to surprise you.”
Standing, she turned, her eyes glittering like the finest sapphires. “I’m glad. I was missing you.”
She rose up on her toes, and he lowered his head, taking her mouth as any devoted husband might, with hunger and need. His response should have been forced, should have been the result of playacting. Instead it felt as natural and real as the woman in his arms.
If he didn’t distract himself, he was going to lure her to the settee and take advantage of her enthusiasm. He might be a scoundrel but he had no plans to be completely rotten where she was concerned. She had been given into his keeping, and while it required an unconventional approach at the moment, he had no plans to betray the trust his brother had placed in him.
Leaning back, he smiled. “You do have a lovely way of making a man glad he sought you out.” Lowering his gaze, he allowed regret to lace his voice. “But we must behave.”
