Page 8 of The Earl Takes All
“A man is always tempted when a lady reveals her ankles.”
“Then I’m nothing special.”
His hands stopped, his eyes captured hers. “I did not mean that. Other ladies no longer tempt me.”
She smiled softly. “I know. I was merely teasing, striving to make you laugh, relieve your burden for a bit.”
“Eventually, we will laugh again. Just not today.” He patted her ankles and stood. “I should let the others know we won’t be joining them for dinner.”
“My feet aren’t as swollen. If I sit with them resting on a little stool—”
“No, it’ll be better if we dine alone. I won’t be long.”
He snatched up his jacket before leaving her room. With a sigh, she sat back farther into the pillows and wiggled her toes.If we dine alone.His wording did not escape her. Now that Edward was laid to rest, perhaps her husband would finally return to her.
Shehad the tiniest toes. Even with feet and ankles swollen, it was obvious that her toes were small and delicate. Why the bloody hell should he find them so intriguing?
As he strode into the library, he was grateful to find no one was yet waiting on him. He crossed to the side table, poured himself an unhealthy amount of scotch and tossed it back. He had to take care with his words, had to ensure he gave her no cause to doubt Greyling’s devotion to her. He couldn’t mention other ladies’ ankles or thighs or lovely attributes. He could give no indication that he remained a man who found other women attractive. Although at that moment he couldn’t think of a single woman other than Julia who appealed to him. Still, he needed to tamp down all natural urges, in order not to find himself taking advantage of this situation. He quickly drank another tumbler of scotch.
Even the urge to drink to excess had to be curbed. He could get by with it for a couple of days, chalking it up to grief, but he doubted Julia had ever seen Albert deep into his cups. And if he himself were drunk, he could very well make a ghastly mistake and reveal who he was. Although it was likely that could happen if he was sober.
He wandered to the desk and grazed his finger over the shiny ebony box. He’d noticed it earlier but assumed it always sat on his brother’s desk. In the past, he’d often visited his brother at the estate, but never really lived within the residence, especially after Albert married Julia. The manor had been closed up when their parents died, so when Albert reached his majority, he’d come to Evermore, hired new staff, and opened the place back up. Edward knew a few by name, but most he couldn’t have cared less about. Knowing Albert, he’d probably known them all. God, he’d stepped into a quagmire. He was going to have to tread so very carefully.
He returned to the table, reached for the decanter, paused with his fingers wrapped around the delicate crystal—
With a harsh curse, he picked it up and slung it against the wall, taking no satisfaction when it shattered into shards and sent amber liquid raining down along the dark paneling.
“Not so easy being your brother?”
With another harsh curse, Edward spun around to face Locke, grateful it wasn’t Ashe standing there with his wife. He almost blurted that Julia had tiny toes, as though Locke would give a fig. “She’s exhausted; we won’t be joining you for dinner.”
“You’re afraid we’ll slip up.”
He plowed his hand through his hair. “More afraid I will.”
“Tug on your ear,” Locke said as he casually strolled nearer. “When you reach for your hair, tug on your ear.”
“Right.” He did so now, knowing it was too late. Albert tugged before he spoke, not after.
Locke planted his hip on the edge of the desk. “I suspect she’s stronger than you give her credit for.”
But she had the tiniest, most delicate toes. And such silken skin. Whatever had he been thinking to skim his fingers over her calves, across the backs of her knees? “Can’t risk it. The babe is all that remains of my brother.”
He couldn’t explain the hole that now resided within him, the place where Albert had been. He needed this child to survive as much as Albert had wished that it would.
“I was a babe when my mother died,” Locke said quietly. “I grew up with a father who perpetually mourned her loss. Nothing replaces such a loss.”
“I’m not expecting the child to be a substitute, but I owe Albert this small sacrifice. My mind’s made up, and while you’re very skilled at laying out your arguments, on this matter, nothing will sway me.”
Locke glanced over at the mess left by the hurled decanter. “You might want to reel back your temper a notch.”
Edward chuckled harshly. “More than a notch, I’d say.” Albert never displayed a temper.
Hearing footsteps, he glanced toward the doorway in time to see the duke and his duchess enter. Locke was halfway correct about Edward’s reasons for not joining them for dinner. He feared the duchess would figure him out. She was too sharp by half.
“The affairs of the past few days have worn Julia out,” he told them. “She and I will not be joining you for dinner.”
“I assume she’ll have a tray in her bedchamber,” the duchess said. “Perhaps it would be best if I joined her there, gave you gents a little more time to catch up.”
