Page 93 of The Earl Takes All
“He already has.”
At the top of the stairs, she turned to face him. He gave her a laconic grin. “He and Locke both figured it out the day of the funeral. For what it’s worth, Ashe was rather insistent that I tell you the truth then and there. Which is why it’s imperative that I speak with him as soon as possible. He needs to know that you know, before he takes it upon himself to tell you.” He touched his fingers to her cheek. “Don’t look so worried. He won’t object once I explain things to him.”
“Perhaps I should go with you.”
“It’s best if I go alone. I’m sure he’ll have some choice words for me, the sort that should never touch a lady’s ears.”
“Will he think ill of me?”
“Not unless he wants a bloodied nose.”
She forced a light laugh. “And Locke?”
“He’s not coming to London for the Season. Perhaps we’ll stop at Havisham on our return to Evermore.”
It hadn’t occurred to her that anyone would know what she and Edward were up to, but she knew he trusted his childhood friends.
“When I return, we’ll go for a ride in the park,” he said. “Ease our way back into London Society.”
“I shall look forward to it.” A little lie. She rather dreaded it, feared she would give them away.
Leaning in, he took her mouth, and she melted against him. She always melted against him. How was it that after a hundred kisses, he still had the power to completely undo her with little more than the persistent press of his lips, the swirling of his tongue over hers?
Drawing back, he grinned. “I’ll return posthaste.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“I love when you utter those words.”
He dashed down the stairs before she could stop him, before she could suggest that perhaps he should join her in her bedchamber for a bit. God, what a wanton she was. He sent all her good sense to perdition.
AsEdward trotted his horse through the familiar streets, he hoped that taking Julia to the park later would reassure her that no one was going to look at him andseeEdward. They had no reason to doubt the veracity of his identity. He had no reason to lie. He was the Earl of Greyling. That was whom people would see.
The closer they’d come to London, the tenser Julia had become. He’d tried to distract her with kisses but even they had failed to relax her once they entered London proper. One of the things he loved about her was her awareness of her reputation and its impact on her daughter’s prospects for a happy life. Scandal was a scourge that could ruin any bright future, and unfortunately, ladies could get away with far less inappropriate behavior than men. Perhaps because they cared so much more about their positions, but then it was more important for them. Few had the means to support themselves. Marriage was their occupation.
Edward now had a rank, power, and wealth. Mothers would overlook his transgressions if it meant a good match for their daughters. But a ruined woman made a favorable mistress, and men would often settle for that when desire was all that drew them.
But more than desire drew Edward to Julia. He admired her strength, her dedication to the right path even if she was willing to tiptoe along the wrong one for him. Actually, that made him love her all the more.
Drawing his horse to a halt in front of Ashe’s residence, he quickly wrapped the reins around the hitching post before darting up the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. He wasn’t anticipating this confrontation, but it had to be done. He knocked, waited. The door opened.
“Lord Greyling,” the footman said.
Edward still had a moment of wanting to look around for Albert whenever someone spoke that address. He wasn’t certain if he’d ever grow accustomed to it being directed at him. For Julia and the sake of their relationship, he had to.
Handing his hat, riding crop, and gloves to the footman, he asked, “Where might I find the duke?”
The earl’s presence here was the natural order of things. Staff was well aware that he didn’t require an announcement.
“He’s in the library, my lord.”
Edward carried on down the hallway. The library door was unattended, which suited him just fine. He didn’t need anyone to overhear the coming conversation, and he suspected part of it might entail a raised voice or two. Although he had no intention of being goaded into shouting.
Ashe was sitting behind his desk, apparently in the process of inscribing some missive. Looking up, he shoved back his chair and stood. “Edward. I was just writing to you to see if you were planning on coming to London.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You told her, then?”
