Page 47 of The Earl Takes All
The mausoleum came into view, an ominous scepter in the night. Shoving open the heavy door, he pushed his way inside, welcoming the muted screeching of the wind when the heavy wood banged back into place. A lantern, burning eternally, lit his way as he crossed over to the newest burial vault, placed his back against the cold marble tomb and slid down to the floor.
“She’s beautiful, Albert, your daughter and your wife.” He held the bottle aloft. “Well done on both counts, brother.” He took a long swig, banged his head against the marble. “God, Albert, I wish you’d been here to see her. A bit nervous to start, but so courageous, so strong when it mattered. I can understand why you loved her as you did.”
He indulged in another long swallow of amber. “The two of you created a marvel. We’re naming her Alberta, after you.” He squeezed his eyes shut.Wesounded as though they were together, as though Julia belonged with him—when she never would, never could. English law would see to that. “Your daughter has the blackest hair, the bluest eyes, the fattest cheeks. She resembles her mother but I can see some of you in her.”
Which meant he could see some of himself as well. Why did that cause an ache in his chest, make him wish he were the one who had planted the seed? He would be as a father to her, even though that privilege rightfully belonged to his brother. “You’d be busting the buttons on your waistcoat if you were here. I’ve no doubt. Raising a toast as well, to their health and happiness.”
While he would be doing what he was doing now. Striving to drink himself into oblivion so he could forget they weren’t his. That all the emotions churning in his chest—the pride, the affection, the joy—should be tempered by the fact that he was a brother by marriage and an uncle. Not the husband, not the father.
But damn it all to hell, he’d felt like both as Julia had squeezed his hand when the pain became too much, as the housekeeper laid the babe in his arms and he had presented her to Julia, placed her on her mother’s bosom. Actions he’d never thought to experience.
They had touched him so deeply, so profoundly.
He had kept his promise, honored his vow, ensured that Julia delivered her baby. No more reason for secrets existed.
But a thousand reasons existed for getting drunk.
“Cheers, brother!”
And he gulped down the contents of the bottle until there was no more, until he could forget why he was here, until he managed to convince himself that he shouldn’t tell Julia the truth until she’d recovered fully from the ordeal of childbirth.
Heawoke cold, aching, and stiff, his head heavy and pounding. At least he’d managed to make it back to the library before collapsing; otherwise he might have been joining his brother, although Albert was in heaven, while he would no doubt be heading in the opposite direction. He wished he’d at least made it to the sofa instead of settling for the floor. Shoving himself to his feet, he cursed soundly as his skull protested.
It was difficult to believe that it had once been his morning ritual to begin his day feeling utterly and completely awful, with his stomach roiling and his surroundings spinning. What an idiot he’d been, although at the time it made perfect sense, as he’d seen no alternative.
It hadn’t been the answer then, it wasn’t the answer now, although now it wasn’t only he who suffered. He had to remember that.
He hadn’t meant to completely abandon Julia, although he suspected she’d sleep for a week following her ordeal. Her daughter less likely to sleep as long. Not that he knew anything about a baby’s sleeping habits. He’d managed to avoid them until now.
But as of yesterday he was an uncle, and he had to give serious thought to being a good one.
He was also an earl. Officially, unequivocally.
All the work he’d done to oversee his brother’s estates—suddenly, he’d been doing it for himself. All the responsibilities regarding the title were now his burden to carry, including providing an heir. Hell and damnation. Getting married had never been in his plans. Now he would have no choice.
But that was for considering another day, perhaps in another decade. Presently, he still needed to take care of Julia, ensure she recovered. It wasn’t uncommon for women to fall ill shortly after they’d given birth, so his decision last night to delay telling her the truth was for her health. And he had a child to look after.
First things first. A bath and breakfast.
After he was finished with both he felt more like himself and better able to face the day, to face Julia. When he walked into her bedchamber, she was sitting up in bed, Alberta nestled in her arms. They were perfection, both mother and daughter. Torrie got up from a chair beside the bed, gave him a quick curtsy, and discreetly left.
“You look awful,” Julia said, her brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”
Perhaps he wasn’t quite as much himself as he’d thought. Guilt gnawed at him for making her worry. “I took a bottle of scotch to the mausoleum to celebrate Alberta’s birth with my brother. We’d always planned to have a drink on that most auspicious occasion. I got carried away.” Leaning over, he brushed a quick kiss across her lips. “Sorry if I worried you.”
“I’m sorry he wasn’t here to celebrate. I should have realized how hard it would be for you—”
“Don’t concern yourself. You had enough to worry over.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “How is your daughter this morning?”
“She’s yours as well.”
Damn. The fog from his mind wasn’t entirely lifted. “Our daughter. Difficult to believe we actually have her.”
“Would you like to hold her?”
The correct answer was no, because if he fell any more in love with her, if Julia wasn’t willing to share her when she learned the truth, his heart might break. But at that moment he was pretending to be her father, not her uncle, and what father would refuse? To be honest, what uncle worth his salt would refuse? Besides, the truth was that he was desperate to feel her in his arms again. “I’d like that. Yes.”
Alberta did little more than mewl as Julia transferred her over to him. Standing, he began swaying back and forth. “Hello, Lady Allie.”
