Page 70 of The Earl Takes All
But she was grateful for tonight, for the reality of it, because it made her realize that she might not be strong enough to stay here after all.
Twoafternoons later Julia was convinced that the widow was not only young, but incredibly skilled at pleasuring his lordship and distracting him from his duties. As she splashed watercolors on her canvas in order to create tempestuous skies, she was half tempted to ride into the village and remind the Earl of Greyling that he had responsibilities. Although perhaps he had moved on to tavern wenches. He did tend to take his vices—whether it be wine, women, or wagering—to excess.
She’d thought he had changed, thought he was different, but he was falling into his old habits.
Torrie opened the door and walked in carrying a tea service on a tray. She set it on the low table before the fire. “I brought your afternoon tea.”
Julia took a seat on the sofa and smiled with delight at the sight of four strawberry tarts. “Please give Cook my regards. I had no idea she could make tarts that look just like the ones at the village tea shop.”
“In fact, m’lady, they are from the village tea shop. His lordship brought them.”
She jerked her head up. “The earl has returned?”
“Yes, m’lady. Not more than twenty minutes ago. Gave the tarts to Mr.Rigdon, with orders to serve them with your tea, and dashed off straightaway to his chambers.”
He was back and he’d brought her a gift. She was touched that he’d remembered how much she enjoyed strawberry tarts, almost enough to overlook that he had spent the past three nights keeping a widow company.
Biting into the pastry, she moaned with the pleasure the taste brought her. It was so decadent, and now she was beholden to him. She would have to thank him.
Torrie turned to leave.
“Press my red gown. I’ll be dining with the earl tonight.”
Her maid’s smile was so wide and bright as to be blinding. “Yes, m’lady. With pleasure.”
She fairly skipped out of the room, while Julia took another bite of pastry and wondered if Edward would come to this room today, if he would pay a visit to Allie.
Edwardleaned against the wall near the window while his valet oversaw the preparation of his bath and the building of a fire in the fireplace. He’d never in his life been so bloody tired. The widow’s fever had finally broken late last night, her son’s this morning. Both of the other two children had seemed to escape the disease—at least so far. As chills were racking his body, he didn’t think he’d been as fortunate.
As he’d ridden back here, he thought it was exhaustion coupled with the weather. But now he wasn’t so sure. When the servants finished with their chores, his valet stood at attention by the door. Edward had already ordered him to keep his distance. “After you walk out of here, you are not to come back in.”
“My lord, I don’t think you’re well.”
“Very observant. I’m going to bundle my clothes into a blanket and set them outside the door. Touch them as little as possible. Burn everything.” That was probably an extreme precaution, but he was going to take whatever means necessary not to cause anyone else to fall ill. “Every two hours you are to leave a pitcher of water and a bowl of broth outside the door. If they remain untouched for two days, you may enter.”
“My lord—”
“If you enter before that, you’ll be sacked. And you’re not to breathe a word of this to the countess.” Not that he thought she would ask after him, but again a precaution was needed. He didn’t need her praying for his hasty demise.
“I don’t feel right about this, my lord.”
“It’s only influenza. I’ll be miserable for a few days and then I’ll be fine. No need for anyone else to be bothered by it.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“Good man. Now be off with you.”
With obvious reluctance, Marlow opened the door and slipped out. Edward pulled a blanket from the bed and dropped it to the floor, tempted to follow it down and stretch out right there. Instead he began the laborious process of removing his clothes.
He did hope Julia enjoyed her strawberry tarts.
Shedined alone, blast him. He hadn’t come to her room where she worked with her watercolors. Nor had he visited Allie. His absence there was odd, as he had seemed to adore the girl. Had he only been pretending in order to get into Julia’s good graces?
She didn’t think so. From the moment her daughter was born, he could not have been more tender or expressed a more sincere interest in her well-being. Perhaps he was simply worn-out from his escapades. She knew firsthand that he poured a great deal of effort and himself into the act of pleasure. As hard as she tried, she had no success not envisioning his powerful muscles bunching and cording as he glided his body—
Damn him. Damn him for giving her a taste of what she could not have. Damn her own weak body for wanting to be worshipped.
She spent most of the night writhing on the bed. Every time she drifted off to sleep, she dreamed of him reaching for her. Even though he and Albert looked exactly alike, she knew it was Edward, because of his devilish smile and his smoldering eyes.
