Only an Earl Will Do (10 page)

“Ye’re not a whore, and nor are ye marrying Riddledale.” He would meet him on a field of honor and rid the world of the pest before such an atrocity occurred.

“Well I certainly don’t wish to, but unless we secure that letter I see little else I can do. I will not allow him to tarnish my family’s name.”

“Does ye father know of this?” Surely the duke could have sway with Riddledale. To anger the Duke of Penworth was no trifling matter and certainly not something to be taken lightly.

“I informed my brother as Papa has not been feeling too well, and I don’t want to upset his constitution with this distressing event.” She paused. “This may surprise you, but he recommended I tell you of these developments. Not that I expect it will change the outcome of this atrocious situation, but at least there is some chance that we can thwart Riddledale’s plan. If we work together, that is. I just don’t know which way to go about it yet.”

She stood, and he followed. Taking his hand, she gazed up at him, and once again he was transported back in time to their youth, when there were no worries of reputation or honor. Just life and its possibilities.

Henry pushed a stray curl from her cheek and slipped it behind her ear. She shut her eyes, her delectable lips opening on a sigh. Henry swallowed, debating whether to lean down and kiss her to the point where threats of scandals were nothing but a vapid thought not worth their worry.

“At least I now know why you never wrote me. I wrote often, but never received a reply. Who do you think is working for Riddledale under your father’s employ? We must find out and deal with him or her severely.”

Elizabeth nodded. “It seems Lord Riddledale has been privy to all incoming and outgoing correspondence for our family for some time. To steal private letters is contemptible but hard to prove. It is our word against his. And now that we know for certain that your uncle did not send the letter and that no letters from you were ever received, Josh can take action into which servant have wronged us.”

He pulled her down to sit beside him, taking her hand. “We have to get the letter back.” Henry frowned at the thought. He may be Scottish, but he wasn’t raised to be threatening or to pay his way out of bad situations. “We need to get into Riddledale’s home, his library in particular. The letter must be there, I’m sure. They are a prize to him, so he would keep them close at hand for safekeeping. We need to steal them back.”

Elizabeth clasped her neck, her eyes going wide with realization. “Steal? From his lordship? I know we used to banter about as children, but Henry, we are not thieves of the night. He’ll catch us for certain.”

“No’ if we play him right.” He rubbed his jaw. “Riddledale has a sister, correct?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, Lady Emily.”

“She’s a debutante this year, I understand. And requiring a coming-out ball…”

“Yes, that’s right.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened when she understood where his mind was going. “And I suppose we’ll sneak into his library, find the letter, and be on our way?” Her voice dripped sarcasm, and he raised a brow.

“That’s exactly what we’ll do.” He took her small gloved hand and kissed it gently. “I’m sorry for letting you face his lordship on your own. I should’ve known from your reaction to him last evening that he was up to some sort of trick. We will face him together from this point on, and we will best him at his game.” He paused, thinking of all that they’d lost and through no fault of either of them. “I cannot allow ye to marry him, lass. You shall not give over to such a fiend.”

She smiled, but the gesture didn’t reach her eyes. “I know, and I’m grateful for your help. I just hope your plan works.” She paused, her thumb sliding over the top of his hand. “I will tell Josh of our idea and see if he’ll help us as well. I’m sure he will. Riddledale has never been a favorite of his.”

“Ye brother likes someone less than me. I feel blessed.”

She laughed, and the sound flowed through him like warm honey. Their gazes met, and again an urge to protect the woman before him seized him. She was as innocent as he was in the sick game Riddledale played, and no longer would he allow her to be the man’s toy, to be pushed about and threatened at will.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed away the small frown marking her brow. She relaxed into his hold, and he reveled in the feel of her against him, her soft muslin gown and pliant body as he stroked her back.

She looked up at him, her eyes giving away the emotion she would not voice, and need roared through him. Without giving her a chance to pull away, he leaned down and kissed her lips, the lightest brush that stoked a small burn that had simmered for weeks into a raging inferno.

Her hands slid up his arms and clasped about his neck. Her tongue, tentative at first, soon matched his, her fingers tangling into his hair and pulling him close. Need he’d long suppressed made his blood flow hot and heavy in his veins. There was no hesitation in their embrace, only want for more of the same delectable kiss that consumed them both.

Hard footfalls sounded in the foyer.

Elizabeth sprang away from him, her gaze wide with alarm. “You should probably leave, before…before any more of this”—she gestured between them—“occurs.”

Henry grinned, running a finger across her reddened, well-kissed lips. “What if I said I wanted to stay?”

“Then I would say you cannot.” She threw him a feeble smile. “Think over what you wish for me to do with Riddledale, and I’ll do it. And once we’ve secured the letter, I think the magistrate should be notified of his thievery.”

“Due to the fact we’re also becoming thieves, perhaps we’ll leave the magistrate out of this situation, but Riddledale will be dealt with and severely. Ye have my word on that.”

“I want to be there when you mete out his punishment.”

Henry laughed, standing to go. “Ye’re not turning into a savage are ye, my lady? Your brother will be calling you a Scot soon if you’re not careful.”

She grinned. “There are worse things to be called, I’m sure.”

Chapter Seven

Henry strode down St. James, the bow window of Whites coming into view before the club itself. Since leaving Elizabeth, and with the shocking knowledge of Riddledale’s threats, he’d been looking for the bastard. His lordship needed a good uppercut to the jaw and whatever else he could mete out.

He strode into the gentleman’s club hall, peering into the two morning rooms on either side. Gentlemen looked up in surprise at his haste but went back to their drinks and gossip.

Walking into the second hall, he took the stairs two at a time to the first floor landing and entered the coffee room, which ran the full length of the front of the building. It was there that he spied the scoundrel, lazing in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, smoking a cheroot as if he had not a care in the world.

Blaggard would be lucky to live out the day.

Fury unlike any he’d ever known threatened to consume him, to ensure he did something foolish like break the blackmailing ass’s neck. He strode toward him, taking a deep breath to calm himself a little. It didn’t make an ounce of difference.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Elizabeth’s brother watching him with interest. He ignored the man and settled across from Riddledale, waiting for him in silence to look up from his paper that sat in his lap. The obnoxious fop turned a page, and only then did he meet Henry’s gaze.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Lord Muir?”

Henry steepled his fingers on his chin lest he strangle the felon. The image of a gasping Riddledale, his face red with lack of air, brought a lift to his lips. “I’ve watched ye of late, your courting of Lady Newland, and I’m here to know what ye intentions are.”

Riddledale scoffed, folding his newssheet and placing it on the table. “You are not Lady Newland’s keeper. She’s her own woman and able to choose whom she marries. I think I’ve made my intentions quite clear to her ladyship.”

“Ah, but what ye forget to mention is that you’ve given Lady Newland little choice.” Henry paused. “I know of the blackmail, Riddledale.”

Riddledale met his gaze, his brows raised. “So she told you of what I know. Of how you rutted like a pair of animals outdoors, not even bothering with a blanket.” He laughed. “I know the Scot’s are savages, but even I thought you’d treat a lady better than that.”

Henry ground his teeth, knowing part of what he said was true. They had made love outdoors without a concern for niceties, but they never rutted; their joining was the opposite of meaningless sex. It was loving, a joining of two souls made for each other. “Talk in such a way again, and our duel will take place here and now.”

“I’m a good shot, and willing to take my chances against you.” Riddledale shrugged. “And what I say is the truth, we both know it. Now, was there anything else you wished to discuss?”

“Ye will not marry her. Not now, at the end of the season, or ever.”

Riddledale waved his words away. “You forget yourself, Lord Muir. You have no choice. I have stated my case to the chit, and she will agree. Surely you do not want to see her siblings ruined, their hopes for good matches lost.”

“Of course I do not wish to see Elizabeth’s siblings dishonored, but nor will I allow a woman I care for to sacrifice herself to you. Why can ye not do one honorable thing in ye life and walk away?”

“I find Elizabeth, the delectable Lady Newland, quite to my palate. I want her, have always wanted her, and now, due to what I know, I shall have her.”

“If it’s money ye want, name your price.”

Riddledale contemplated Henry’s suggestion for a moment, and a spark of hope coursed through him. Did his lordship require blunt? Was Elizabeth’s inheritance playing some part in his decision to have her? “No amount is too much,” Henry added.

“You will not buy my silence, Lord Muir. Elizabeth will be adequate enough.”

“She’s isn’t a horse for sale at Tattersalls. The Worthinghams have been friends of yours for years. You are neighbors. How can ye threaten her in such a way and have little care of it?”

“It is easily done, for I have wanted her a long time. Yes, she is rich, her dowry a nice addition to my coffers, but she’s the prize that I long to have writhing beneath me in bed, her sighs rasped against my cheek when she feels my desire.”

Henry wasn’t sure what came over him, but in a moment he had Riddledale beneath him on the floor, the man’s eyes widening in shock. Henry’s fist connected with the bastard’s jaw, again and again, he ground his knuckles into the flesh of a gentleman who had no right to such a claim. Shouts sounded about them, and no sooner had he bloodied the fop’s nose than he was wrenched backward.

He shook his captors off and felt the snarl on his face as he gazed down at Riddledale, who was searching for a handkerchief in his pockets. He righted his jacket, his breaths labored. “Think about my business trade, my lord. It would be beneficial for ye to have a happy and long life, instead of the opposite should ye refuse.”

“Come away, Lord Muir.”

Henry turned at the familiar voice and noted Elizabeth’s brother standing beside him, his eyes wary but also without judgment. The others moved back to their seats now that everything seemed settled between the men. Muffled laughter and betting could be heard above his own rapid heartbeat.

“I should demand a duel, you Scottish whelp. How dare you strike an English marquis?”

Henry scoffed. “Quite easily. And I’d be glad to show ye again if ye believe I have a care as to what you think.”

“Muir, come away.”

“Yes, do go, Lord Muir.” Riddledale waited for a footman to right his chair and then resumed his seat. “I hope you’ll honor us with your presence at my wedding. Since we’re such good friends, it would be a shame for you to miss it.”

Henry took a step toward him, ready to kill him this time, and his grace grasped his arm, his hold unshakable. “This isn’t finished, Riddledale. It would be unwise to crow too loudly too soon.”

Riddledale laughed, wincing at the cut on his lip. Henry smiled at his discomfort. “But I will in any case. Good day to you.”

Henry stormed out of the room, needing to distance himself from the man, the urge to follow through on his desire and rid the world of the blaggard overwhelming.

Worth caught him on the stairs. “You cannot act like a man without a care. If not for your own self-respect then pull it together, man, and do it for Elizabeth.”

Henry turned and leveled a cold stare at Worth, lest he tell him to behave like a good little boy again. “I beg ye pardon?”

“You heard me. A brawl. In Whites? I know you care for my sister, but you risk her reputation with actions like this. She’s told you of the letter, I see. I’m surprised you’re taking it so well.”

“Yes, I know Riddledale knows of what transpired between Elizabeth and me before I left for America. I’ll not allow him to threaten her into marriage.”

“Is that all she told you?”

Henry paused, frowning. “What else is there to know?”

Elizabeth’s brother shook his head, stepping back. “No, nothing, that’s the lot of it.”

Henry glared, the niggling thought that he was still missing something of importance scratching beneath his skull. Worth bid him good day, and Henry hailed a hackney cab. What he really needed was a stiff whisky and time to plan their scheme to get back what Riddledale had stolen. No matter whom Elizabeth chose to marry, if anyone, she would choose for herself, not others, and certainly Riddledale would not make her decide under duress. She deserved so much more than a contemptible marriage that would bring her nothing but heartache and sadness.

Chapter Eight

Some days later, an express from Dunsleigh put the whole London home in uproar. Within an hour, Elizabeth and her family were on the road to Surrey, the horses traveling at breakneck speed to ensure their speedy arrival, if they did not tip over, that was.

Elizabeth looked at her mother, whose pale lips and reddened eyes spoke of a concern they all felt but refused to discuss. The hours seemed to drag, and the passing landscape appeared to stay the same. The repetitive clop of the horses’ hooves marked the time, and should her prayers be answered, they would arrive home by tomorrow.

If only to say good-bye.

A little after lunch the following day, the carriage rounded through the gates of Dunsleigh. Their mama didn’t wait for the servant to open the door, but jumped out when the coach had barely stopped rolling and hastened up the steps to go inside.

Elizabeth let her grieved sisters step down before they proceeded indoors. Josh greeted them in the hall.

“How is Father?” Elizabeth asked, handing a footman her bonnet and pelisse.

“He had a turn three nights ago. His valet sent for me immediately, and I rode up posthaste. When I noted the seriousness of the condition, I sent for you all in town. The good doctor has just left.”

Elizabeth placed a comforting arm around Alice, who’d started to sob. “And what did he say?”

Pain crossed her brother’s features, and her stomach clenched in fear. “Father doesn’t have long… It’s his heart apparently. A seizure of some sort has damaged it beyond repair.”

Elizabeth turned at the sound of another carriage barreling up the drive and pulling to a stop in a cloud of dust. Relief washed over her when she recognized the occupant. Elizabeth walked to the door and welcomed Isolde, who ran up the steps. Elizabeth gave her a quick embrace before her sister pulled off her gloves and handed them to the footman.

“Is Father in his rooms?”

“Yes,” Josh replied, escorting Isolde to the stairs. Elizabeth followed and was met by their mother who was exiting the ducal apartments.

“He wishes to speak with each of you,” their mother said, then turned to her second eldest child. “Isolde, you may go first, but not too long, my loves. He’s very tired.”

Elizabeth swallowed the lump lodged in her throat and watched her sister walk up the stairs and turn toward their parents’ apartments. They followed and went to wait in the upstairs parlor. Elizabeth sat on a window seat that overlooked the gardens, gardens her mother adored pottering around in, driving the gardener to distraction with all the roses she loved to plant. Dunsleigh held so many wonderful memories, of how their parents used to stroll the lawns, hand in hand, while Elizabeth and her four siblings ran before them, playing and laughing at who knew what.

To know that their father would not live to meet any more of his grandchildren severed her soul in two. How would they all go on without their dearest Papa? She wiped away her tears and awaited her turn, tried to prepare herself to speak with her dear father one last time.

A short time later, Elizabeth entered the ducal apartments and paused on the threshold. Instead of the gloom she had expected, drapes pulled in mourning, a fire burning in the grate, her eyes had to adjust to the well-lit space. Every curtain was open, allowing the beautiful spring day to bathe the room in all its grandeur.

Elizabeth walked toward the bed, smiling. “Papa?”

“Ah, my dearest Elizabeth,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Come sit by me and let me look at you.”

She sat and felt her smile wobble as she fought to control her emotions. The strong, unstoppable father she knew had aged into an old man overnight. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes, his breathing was labored, and his pallor a deathly gray. Elizabeth bit her lip to stop herself from crying, yet with every moment she could feel herself losing the battle.

“Now, now. None of that. It can’t be helped, no point crying over it.”

Elizabeth laid her cheek upon his chest and welcomed the sound of his beating heart, wanting it to remain so forever. “How can you sound so calm?”

He sighed and ran his hand through her hair. “I’ve had a good life. A full and happy life. I have no complaints. I’m prepared for what’s to come next.”

She hugged him. “I’ll miss you.” Her words muffled against his bed shirt.

He chuckled. “I’ll miss you, too, but I’ll see you again one day in the
very
distant future.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I love you, you know that, don’t you, Papa? And I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble for you all.”

“I love you as well. And you were never a burden to me or your mama. People make mistakes, do silly things in their youth; you were never loved less because of it.” He clasped her hands, catching her gaze. “But there is something I wish to discuss with you.”

Elizabeth sniffed and searched out a handkerchief. “You do?”

“Yes,” the duke said, passing her his handkerchief instead. “I don’t want you to remain a widow. You’re so young, with much to offer. Please do not hide behind Newland’s name and grow old before your time. Promise me now you’ll at least try to find someone worthy of your love.”

Elizabeth frowned, hating that she couldn’t grant him the favor he wished. “I cannot promise the impossible, Father.”

“You can and you will.”

The thought of Henry flittered through her mind, and her father’s request didn’t seem so impossible really…and yet, Lord Riddledale and his wicked imaginings and threats soon pushed the happy idea away.

Her time with Henry was past; they were friends again, yes, and he had promised to help her best Riddledale, but marriage to him? Although the thought raised goose bumps over her skin, she couldn’t let herself think such a thing and be disappointed once more. The first time he’d denied her had nearly broken her heart, even if not of his fault. “I’m incapable of love, and there is no one I feel remotely loveable toward.” The lie twisted her stomach into knots, and yet the words spilled out, wrong and awkward.

“Come, my dear, that is a lie if ever I’ve heard one.” He threw her a mocking gaze and Elizabeth’s cheeks heated.

“I know who you’re hinting at, Papa, and you can stop. We’ve agreed to be friends and nothing more.”

“Bollocks, Elizabeth. You may lie to yourself, but you will not lie to me.” Her father sat up a little. “When Henry lived here I had my suspicions of your growing friendship. I knew Henry was determined to secure his future by any means possible, and I understood when he left for America. I have since learned that his uncle, no matter how rich and powerful in America, was not a man to be trusted. It was one of the reasons why Henry’s late father banished him from his home in Scotland. I believe Henry has been duped in some way, and I’ve written to him regarding my concerns. Henry was an honorable man, and would’ve married you, I’m sure…had he known of the baby.”

It was nothing that Henry and she hadn’t come to realize themselves. “You are right, Henry was tricked and so were we, but it wasn’t his uncle.” She paused, wondering how to tell her father what she must. The words seemed to lodge in her throat. Her father coughed, growing paler than the first flurries of winter. “Father, do you want me to call the doctor back?”

He waved away her concerns. “No, no need for that. Now,” he said, taking a sip of water. “What were you saying?”

“Henry wrote to his uncle, and he has denied any involvement in keeping our letter from his nephew. Henry is now looking into who else could’ve worked against us in such a vicious way.”

“Henry will get to the bottom of all this trouble, and it pleases me greatly that his uncle has let past hurts lie and not meddle in the lives of two innocent people who deserve no censure, but it leaves me to wonder who it was that wronged you both.”

She shrugged, not willing to let him know the truth that would undoubtedly upset him. Her father had always liked Riddledale—to know the man was a blackmailing, arrogant ass wasn’t something he needed to know during the last days of his life. Henry and Josh would help rid her of the pestering fool, and that was enough. “Henry will find out. You know how much Scottish men love chasing down English villains.”

He laughed. “You are right there, my dearest.”

Elizabeth shook her head, loving her father’s easygoing manner, no matter that he was a duke. First and foremost, he was always their papa. She took a calming breath. “Thank you, for everything, Father. You have always been so generous and loving. I’m truly blessed to be your daughter. I love you so much.”

He pulled her against him, rubbing her back as the tears finally let go. “And I you. Forever and a day. Now off with you, and live a full and happy life for me, and please send your mother in on your way out.”

She smiled through her tears and stood to leave. After one last glimpse of her father she walked from the room, knowing she’d never see him such again.

…

Elizabeth stood silent and subdued as her father’s coffin was carried into the family mausoleum, his final resting place after the public service her mother and sisters hadn’t attended in a nearby town’s church.

Rain slid down her face and dampened her cloak, making it heavier than usual. Elizabeth welcomed the wet, for it masked the tears that would not stop. Her father was gone, and there was nothing anyone could do to change that horrible fact. Her brother, now the Duke of Penworth, stood at her side, his face as pale and drawn as the rest of them.

Isolde pulled her close, and Elizabeth welcomed the support. How would they go on without their dearest papa? The loving, caring man they adored could never be replaced. The priest exited the mausoleum, their mother following behind.

Elizabeth’s gaze was pulled across the grounds to the dark, hooded cloak that was the only beacon of light on this cold, somber day. Henry stood watching her, water dripping from his hat, his visage one of concern. She knew he wanted to come to her, give her comfort, and right at this moment, nothing in the world would feel better than Henry holding her close.

As the old metal doors closed, entombing their father, Henry strolled their way. He bowed. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Lady Isolde, Lady Newland. If there is anything I can do, please send word. I am at ye disposal anytime you should need it.”

Elizabeth met his gaze, wanting to reach out and touch him, to take solace in him. “Thank you, Lord Muir.”

Isolde squeezed her arm a little. “I’ll wait for you in the carriage, dearest.”

Elizabeth watched her sister walk away, before Henry held out his hand to escort her to the carriage. “I will not keep ye long in this atrocious weather, nor on such a sad day, but I have thought about Riddledale and wish to speak to ye regarding him.”

“I have been thinking, too, but with Papa’s death, I’m not sure when I’ll be back in town. I will write to you and let you know if you wish.”

The carriage loomed before them quicker than she liked. Henry placed his hand over hers, its warmth sending heat to course up her arm. “I am sorry about his grace. He was the best of men, and I was always fond of him. I wish I could…” He frowned. “I wish I could offer more comfort to ye in this troubling time of yours.”

“You being here today is comfort enough. Thank you.” He helped her into the carriage, shutting the door. He stood back, his arms held behind his back, and she pushed the window down, not ready to leave him yet. “You are more than welcome back at Dunsleigh, if you’re not returning to London immediately.”

“I’m afraid I must return to town. I have business to attend there.” He bowed. “Good day, my lady.”

The carriage moved away, and Elizabeth watched Henry for as long as she was able. It could be weeks, months even, before she traveled back to the capital to be able to see him again.

“Henry is smitten with you, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s more in love with you than when he left for America.”

“He wasn’t in love with me before he left, we were the best of friends who—”

“Gave yourselves to each other in the most intimate of ways.”

Heat stole over her cheeks at the reminder, not to mention Elizabeth knew Henry cared for her, more than she’d ever hoped. “You shouldn’t speak of such things, Isolde. We’re friends.”

Her sister threw her a disbelieving look, which Elizabeth chose to ignore. She would write to Henry about Riddledale as soon as they returned to Dunsleigh, and they would go on as normal. Perfectly acceptable, non-kissing normal acquaintances.

…

Weeks passed and gradually the steady stream of local gentry and family started to abate after paying their respects over the passing of the duke. Their mother, who seemed more lost over the following weeks, found such visits tiresome and emotionally draining, and Elizabeth was glad when they finally stopped altogether.

Elizabeth strode through the front door after her morning ride and stopped as the aroma of roses wafted across her senses. Unease pooled in her stomach as she caught sight of the footman walking into the library with a pretty blue box with matching ribbon in his hand.

“Who is that for, John?” Elizabeth asked, stripping off her gloves.

“You, Lady Newland. It has just arrived.”

Elizabeth walked over to the footman and took the parcel. After pulling off the blue ribbon, she lifted the lid and looked inside. She had to concede the blood red rose was very pretty, but highly improper. She checked under the flower and noticed, yet again, the absence of a card.

The awful thought crossed her mind that Riddledale was home at his estate adjacent to Dunsleigh. The thought of him this close, lying in wait until he could start pushing for a marriage, sent revulsion through her body.

“Thank you, John.” Elizabeth entered the drawing room and sat beside Alice, who was reading a book. She took the rose out of the box and laid it onto the open page.

Alice chuckled. “Ah, I see Lord Riddledale is still courting you.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips in disgust. “So it would seem, although I find it’s in poor taste, since it’s only been two months since Father’s death. He should know gifts should not occur during such a time or at all.” Alice nodded in agreement. “We’ll not tell Mama. It’ll only upset her more.”