Page 69 of The Earl Takes All
“I don’t see how he could. He’s not here.”
“What do you mean he’s not here?” Where was he? London? Another estate? Havisham Hall? He couldn’t just leave without telling her.
“He rode to the village this morning and he hasn’t returned yet.”
“In this weather?” She raised her hand. “No need to answer. It’s not our place to question him.” But why did this man have such a penchant for traveling about in dreadful weather? No doubt it was the adventurer in him. Pity his poor wife, who would in all likelihood spend an inordinate amount of time worrying over him. Not that Julia was worried. He could catch his death for all she cared. Served him right for never saying anything when she whispered naughty things in his ear. It still mortified her to know he’d heard every shameful word she’d spoken.
“That’ll be all.”
“Shall I alert you when he returns?”
“That would be splendid. I’m going to spend half an hour with Lady Alberta, and then I’m going to work with my watercolors.” She’d been envisioning a new character for her menagerie, and she was anxious to begin working on him.
Torrie smiled as though Julia had just announced she was going to set her up with a house and she wouldn’t have to work for the remainder of her life. “Very good, m’lady. That room’s been lonely without you.”
“Don’t be absurd, Torrie. A room can’t be lonely.”
“You’d be surprised, m’lady.”
Perhaps not, as this room at night felt incredibly lonely. Near midnight last night she’d gone into the master’s bedchamber seeking some sort of solace that she couldn’t understand. Failing to find it there, she’d gone to the chamber that had been designated as Edward’s whenever he visited. The trunks were still there, untouched since her last sojourn into the room. Sinking to the floor, she’d opened Albert’s trunk and wept as his familiar scent circled about her. Then for reasons she failed to comprehend, she opened Edward’s and wept all the harder.
What a difficult task Albert had set before Edward. So many of her conversations with him since his return randomly ran through her mind, and she saw them in a different light, saw a man striving to remain as honest as he could with her while at the same time deceiving her.
With a shake of her head to scatter those disturbing thoughts, she put on her slippers and wandered down to the nursery. No need to creep about trying to be quiet.
Nanny immediately jumped to her feet. “M’lady.”
“Go enjoy a cup of tea. I’ll watch Lady Alberta for a while.”
Nanny’s brow furrowing deeply, she looked toward the door. “Is his lordship not coming, then?”
“Perhaps later.” She walked to the crib and picked up Alberta. “Hello, my darling.” The infant’s face scrunched up as though she were on the verge of bellowing in protest. “I know I’m not who you were expecting, but he’s been delayed. I’m sure he’ll come see you as soon as he returns home.”
Holding her daughter close, she sat in the rocker. “I haven’t your uncle’s gift for storytelling. What do you suppose that naughty weasel is up to? Do you know what I think, Allie? I think the weasel—who is supposed to be the villain of our tale—may just turn out to be the hero.”
Hourslater she set her watercolors aside and walked to the window. It had grown dark and he had yet to return. She was considering whether to send the stable lads out to search for him when Torrie walked in and handed her a missive.
Lady Greyling,
A widow in the village is in need of my assistance. Not certain when I will return. Kiss Lady Alberta for me and give her my love.
—Greyling
With a scoff, she crumpled the paper. Did he think her a fool? She knew precisely what sort of assistance he was delivering. He was a man with needs, and they would be met most willingly with a night in the arms of a widow. Assistance, indeed.
Julia took her meal in the dining room, the first time since that fateful night when she’d discovered the truth. She was kept company only by the ticking of the clock on the mantel, the footman occasionally removing one dish to place another before her. While she had dined alone within this room many a night while Albert was away, she couldn’t recall ever feeling quite so devastatingly alone.
Following dinner, she enjoyed a glass of port in Edward’s library, sitting in a chair, listening to the crackling of the fire, imagining him here by himself night after night while she remained in her bedchamber seeking to ensure he understood her displeasure at all he’d done, hoping to make him miserable. In the end, being the one who was miserable.
It was after ten when she went into the billiards room and, using her hand rather than a cue, rolled balls back and forth over the table, remembering how easily he had lifted her onto it, the devilish smile he’d given her. She thought of all the times he had looked at her with desire and hunger, all the times he made her feel as though he had no interest in any other woman, made her believe that no other woman would satisfy him.
What a fool she was. She kept envisioning him with the widow. She wanted her to be old, wrinkled, with half her teeth missing. No, all her teeth missing. But in truth, she suspected she was young and pretty, more than willing to provide an evening of comfort to a man as strappingly built and handsome as he.
She understood now why he had drunk, why he had sought to dull his senses. Thinking of him in the arms of another woman made her want to weep when she knew she had no right to him, no cause to expect him to be loyal to her.
For all she knew he had sought out dalliances before now, only he’d been incredibly discreet and now there was no need for discretion. But even as she thought it, she rejected the notion that he’d been with others before now. Strange that she had known Edward as a drunkard, a womanizer, a gambler, and yet had no doubt whatsoever that from the moment he returned from his travels until this evening, had been faithful to her.
The fact that he was with another woman should not have caused the ache in her chest that it did. She should not be missing him.
