Page 59 of The Earl Takes All
“Yes, m’lady,” Torrie said.
“And change the bedding. It reeks of the earl.”
The maid’s gaze jumped to him. He knew she was wondering how best to respond to her ladyship’s request without insulting his lordship and losing her position in the household. She settled for a quick bob of her head, a curtsy, and a dash from the room.
He knelt on one knee. He wanted to hold her, offer comfort as she had for him, but he knew she wouldn’t welcome his touch, his words, his solace. “Julia, I beg of you to say nothing to the servants until we determine how best to handle this situation.”
Her sorrow-filled eyes remained focused on the fire. “Get out.”
For the servants, it mattered only that they served the earl. It didn’t matter who the earl was: Albert or Edward. For them there would be no transition. Everything would remain the same.The earl is dead. Long live the earl.
“Julia—”
Slowly, she shifted her gaze to him. He didn’t know if he’d ever seen so much hatred. “Lady Greyling. Get. Out.”
She was filled with too much grief to fully understand all the ramifications, but he had to trust that she wouldn’t say anything. And if she did, then he would have to deal with it. He pushed to his feet. “I never meant to hurt you.”
He walked out, knowing that things between them would never again be the same.
Shewaited until she heard the door close in his wake, then curled into a ball on the sofa and let the tears flow. Albert was dead. Dear, sweet, wonderful Albert was dead. Gone. And she hadn’t known.
Her chest ached, her throat knotted. How could he be gone? How could she have not known?
Albert was dead.
Absent from her life for more than six months in total, two during which she had laughed and teased and desired the man who had pretended to be her husband. A forgery. An imitation. A counterfeit.
But my word he had been a good and clever one.
That more than anything she could not forgive. These past weeks her love had grown deeper, she had been happier than she’d ever been. And it had all been false.
What made it so truly awful was that she wanted him here now, holding her, consoling her, promising her that everything would be all right. She’d believed him when the labor pains had begun too soon. She’d trusted him.
Edward. How could she have been such a fool? So blind. How could she have not seen?
He drank scotch but not to excess. She hadn’t actually seen him drunk, although she suspected he had been the night Allie—
Alberta. Named for her father. He had insisted. What had he said?
We’ll not name the Greyling heir after such a selfish bastard. He’s to be named after his father, as he should be.
Selfish bastard.He’d been talking about himself.
It made so much sense now. How deeply he’d mourned, the guilt he must have felt because he was the one who insisted Albert travel with him. All the times he had referred to himself as her husband or the earl when she asked him a question.
We can’t have you doubting your husband’s devotion to you.
I promise you, Julia, your husband could not be more pleased. She looks just like you. What father would find fault with that?
She had thought it odd but had only once questioned it.
She buried her face in her hands. All the times she had made the advances, all the naughty things she’d whispered, thinking that he couldn’t hear them. Oh, the bastard. How would she ever look him in the eye again?
Lowering her hands, she knew she would do it with all the hatred and indignant fury that coursed through her at his betrayal. She would never forgive him for this. For making sport of her, for taking advantage of the situation.
She would find a way to make him pay, to make him suffer. He was worried about her telling the servants?
She intended to tell the whole of London.
