Page 63 of The Earl Takes All
“Where will you go? To your cousin’s? Can he provide for you any better than I can?”
She despised that he understood the truth of her situation, used it to his advantage to keep her and Alberta near. Her parents were gone. She had no siblings. The cousin who had inherited her father’s titles and estates had been pleased beyond measure that she’d married at nineteen. “Albert must have made some provisions for me.”
“Ironically, I believe I’m it. I’ve been unable to locate a will.”
Apparently, all the hours he’d spent in the library had not been solely about managing the affairs of the estate. “Surely his solicitor has a copy.”
“I wrote him asking if Edward had left a will and to advise me regarding mine. I worded it in such a way that it wasn’t obvious the earl was completely unaware as to whether he even possessed one. His response was that Edward had left no will—which, of course, I knew, being Edward, after all—and his advice regarding the earl’s will remained what it had been for some time now: One needed to be prepared with all due haste and diligence.”
She sank against the wall, then straightened, to avoid showing any disappointment or weakness. “It seems I’m dependent upon your kindness.”
“I will be more than generous with an allowance, and I shall ensure that Lady Alberta never wants for anything.” He seemed to hesitate, sighed. “There is a cottage in the Cotswolds. Based upon notes I’ve uncovered, I believe our father intended it to be the dower house for our mother. Apparently she liked the countryside there. It’s not part of the entailment. I could gift it to you, but as I mentioned, I truly believe with all my heart that Albert would want his daughter raised here.”
Unfortunately, she was of the same opinion. He had often spoken of how he longed to have his children grow up within the shadow of Evermore, how much he’d regretted that he’d been denied the same. “As I have a good deal to consider, presently I can’t commit to any decisions or a course of action, but I do agree that we must take care in how this situation is managed—for Alberta’s sake. What are you going to tell the servants?”
“They serve the Earl of Greyling. I am Greyling. I’m not going to tell them a damned thing.”
“They’ll be suspicious with your move into the other wing.”
His smile was self-deprecating. “They’ll think we’re having a bit of marital discord, and if they value their position here, they’ll keep their suspicions to themselves.”
“And Society?”
“I think it will be best if we wait to make any sort of admission until all the lords and ladies are in London for the Season. I shall be there as well and can personally handle any repercussions that might arise with the revelation of my duplicity. That gives us time to determine exactly what we wish to say.”
With a nod, she turned her attention to the winter gardens beyond the window. “Your wife won’t be too pleased if Alberta and I stay on here.”
“My wife?”
“As you said, you are the Earl of Greyling. You require an heir.”
“That won’t happen for years yet, decades, if ever. Not until Lady Alberta is well situated. She matters above all else.”
She touched the pane. It felt as cold as her soul. She wondered if she’d ever know warmth again. “We shall remain here for now. I shall not take meals with you, nor spend time in your company in the evenings. If you must communicate with me, please do it through a servant.”
“If you need to speak with me—”
She quickly faced him. “I shan’t.”
With that, she spun on her heel and marched from the library, wondering how it was that two brothers could each break her heart in vastly different ways, and wondering why it was that her heart ached painfully in equal measure for the loss of each brother.
Standingat the window, savoring his scotch, Edward watched as darkness fell. One glass was all he was going to allow himself. He didn’t want to dull the sting of her parting words that he so justly deserved or the ache in his chest because he had opened his heart to her. A tiny part of him had hoped, prayed, wished that she would claim her love for him when he had professed his for her, even as the greater part of him had known it was a fool’s errand to travel that path.
He wasn’t even certain he’d completely understood the depth of his feelings until the words had burst forth. He didn’t know exactly when he’d fallen in love with her. He knew only that he had. Unequivocally. And he feared she would forever hold that place in his heart. While to her, he would remain little more than a rodent, striving to make off with the scraps to which he wasn’t entitled.
“Dinner is served, my lord,” Rigdon announced.
He had bathed, shaved, and dressed in his finest evening attire, just in case her anger with him lessened a bit and she took enough pity on him to dine in his company. He didn’t care if she didn’t speak with him. It would be enough just to have her near. They could eat in the formal dining room. Dressed in her widow’s weeds, she could sit at the far end of the table, yards away from him. He suspected she would join him if she understood the extent of the agony that sight would cause him.
“The countess...” If he waited a bit longer, perhaps she’d show.
“Informed Torrie she would be dining in her rooms. I believe she’s feeling a bit under the weather.”
He had to give his butler credit for at least striving to pretend that all was right with the lord and lady of the house.
“I’ll be there in a moment.” Dear God but he was a sorry excuse for a lord, sniveling about. He’d had a little over two months with her. He was going to have to make due with that for a lifetime. With a sigh, Edward finished off his drink and headed to the small dining room.
He didn’t know why he expected to see her there, why he felt like he’d taken a punch to the gut when the only ones waiting for him were the butler and a footman. The heart was a cruel mistress, always giving one hope.
