The Dark Earl (31 page)

Authors: Virginia Henley

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Fiction, #General

BOOK: The Dark Earl

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“When James was with us at Barons Court, he received word that his brother John had had an accident and was in a coma. Before he left for Kilkenny, he and Rachel were married. He knew that if his brother died, they wouldn’t be able to marry until the mourning period was over.”
It would be wicked of me to ask after his father’s health.

“Yes, I heard that the Marquis of Ormonde had died suddenly.” Her words brought home to Thomas his own dire predicament.

“You didn’t speak on the floor today.”

Thomas lowered his voice. “Lord John and Palmerston are playing a lethal game. They’re trying to bring Aberdeen down. Palmerston has ambitions to become the next prime minister.”

Will Montagu joined the group. “Lady Harriet, Lady Jane, how lovely to see you both. Were you watching from the gallery?”

“Oh yes, Will,” Jane said fervently. “I was able to see your every move.”

Montagu’s brows shot up in amusement. “All I did was observe the machinations of Lord John and Palmerston.”

His remark went over Jane’s head, but Harry smiled knowingly. Her glance moved from Thomas to Will as she compared the two young nobles.

Montagu is a gentleman with everything to recommend him. He is already Earl of Dalkeith, and heir to the dukedom of Buccleuch. His family is not only aristocratic; they are extremely wealthy and own Dalkeith Palace to boot. Will is already half in love with me, and would propose marriage if I encouraged him.

Her glance moved back to Thomas.
On the other hand, Anson is not always a gentleman. He is heir to the earldom of Lichfield, though you could hardly call his father aristocratic. There is no wealth, but he will inherit Shugborough.

Harry glanced at Montagu
. I’m very fond of Will—he will make someone an excellent husband, but not me, I’m afraid.

Harry glanced at Anson.
Thomas sets my blood on fire.
She realized in that moment she had fallen in love with Thomas Anson.
He has stolen my heart!

“Will you need a ride home?” John asked his nieces.

“No, thank you—Father’s at his Westminster office today. If we show up, perhaps he’ll come home for the night, rather than attend Prince Albert at the palace.” As Harry bade the trio of males good-bye, Anson murmured, “Ride with me.” Their eyes met, and without further words, Harry knew when and where.
Is that an invitation or a command?

She gave no indication whether she would join him or not, because she pretended that she hadn’t yet made up her mind.

At dinner that night Lady Lu had an announcement. “I sent Hobson, the footman, to Montagu House with the dinner invitation for tomorrow evening, and Charlotte immediately accepted.”

“Did you include Will in the invitation?”

“Jane, having Will Montagu come to dinner is the whole point of the invitation.” She glanced at Harry. “Did you see Will when you visited the House today?”

“Yes, we had just greeted Uncle John when Will Montagu joined us.”

“Wonderful. Now, Harry, don’t think I’m being critical of you, but when Lady Charlotte is here, I would appreciate it if you refrained from vulgar Irish expressions, and stuck to Anglo-Saxon.”

“Well, I assume the Irish expression you wish me to refrain from using is
shyte.
I believe the Anglo-Saxon noun would be
shit.
And there is a classic Anglo-Saxon verb that begins with the letter
f
. Would that be acceptable?”

“Depends on whether you’re
saying
it or
doing
it,” young James declared.

Lady Lu looked from her son to her daughter. “If the pair of you are trying to shock me, you will be sadly disappointed. I am thoroughly familiar with the classic Anglo-Saxon verb, both in expressing it and indulging in it. Please pass the salt.”

Abercorn grinned. “You should know better than to try to spar with your mother. She was taught by an expert.”

Lady Lu smiled. “Cocksure devil.”

Harry was up before the lark. When Jane stirred, she told her to go back to sleep. “I have an assignation to go riding and it isn’t with Will Montagu.” She slipped a snood beaded with crystals over her long dark hair and pulled on a pair of green riding gloves. She had debated whether to wear the same riding dress she’d worn last time, or don the brighter burnt orange outfit.
Green is better; it won’t show grass stains.

In the stables, she assured Riley that she could saddle her own mount, and they exchanged a look that confirmed his trust that she would not indulge in foolish behavior. A thought tugged on her conscience.
You shouldn’t trust me, Riley.
She thrust the thought away.

When Harry arrived at the Cumberland Gate of Hyde Park, it looked deserted, and for a moment she wondered if she had misinterpreted Thomas’s words:
Ride with me.
Then Victorious emerged from the darkness, and she sighed with relief.

Without exchanging a word, they rode in tandem through the park, across the Serpentine Bridge, and past Kensington Palace.

“It is desecration to let the palace fall into decay,” Harry declared.

“We think alike, at least about architecture. It is far less expensive to keep a building in good repair than to let it go to rack and ruin before it gets restored.”

“For all we know, we could think alike on other matters. . . . We just haven’t explored them yet,” she said lightly.

“On the other hand, I’ve come to believe that opposites can attract to an amazing degree.”

“Mm, that’s certainly something we could explore.”

They rode toward the river, crossed the Thames on Hammersmith Bridge, and followed the river toward Richmond Park.

“Today, we’ll eat first before we take our wild gallop.”

Harry gave him an appraising look. “You never ask. You make declarations.”

“I am decisive by nature.”

“Some might call it determined . . . even dominant.”

“I am those things too.”

“It is admirable to recognize one’s faults.”

“Those aren’t my faults. They are my strengths.”

Harry threw back her head and laughed, and it felt good.

When they got to the inn, they drew rein, and just as before, Thomas dismounted in one fluid motion and held up his arms. She looked into his eyes as he lifted her down. They stood with their bodies touching for long moments, enjoying the closeness, and rekindling the intimacy they had once shared.

After the hostler came to take their horses, they walked hand in hand behind the inn, and Thomas opened the door to the walled garden. Because the season had changed, the flowers were different. Bees and butterflies were busy among the anemones, the Michaelmas daisies, and the roses that climbed in profusion up the stone walls.

They sat down at the same rustic table, and when the mobcapped maid came, Thomas ordered them a full breakfast, including fried bread and a jug of ale. When it was served, he ate quickly so he could sit back and observe Harry enjoying her food.

“Can you cook, Harry?”

“In Ireland, I sometimes go to the kitchen and try. Why do you ask?”

“Because you enjoy food. I’d like to teach you to cook. Kitchens have a wonderful, warm atmosphere that panders to all the senses.”

She remembered the smell and the taste of the freshly baked bread he’d fed her at Shugborough Hall.
Panders to all the senses ... what a sensual phrase.
From there, her mind flew to the scene she’d witnessed in the long grass between Rachel and her lover. A sigh of longing escaped her lips, and she was brought back to the present only when Thomas captured her hand across the table.

“Marry me.”

Her heart began to hammer.
He never requests; he simply declares: Ride with me.

Marry me.

“I would marry you, if I were certain that you loved me, Thomas.” She held up her hand. “No, please don’t make another declaration. Words cannot convince me.”

“What will it take?”

“If . . . if you make love to me, I will know.”
Your tenderness will show how much you love and cherish me.

He controlled his features, masking the surprise and the shock he felt. “Harry, are you suggesting that I procure a room for us?”

“No.” She was breathless. “Nature offers the most romantic setting for making love.”

He looked into her eyes and smiled. He knew she was indulging a fantasy, and he was perfectly willing to go along with it, to a point. “Drink up, Harry.”

She relished the strength of his arms as he lifted her into her saddle, and savored the power of his thighs as she watched him mount his own horse. Her excitement at what was to come made her pulse race wildly and her heart begin to sing.

Thomas led the way to one of his favorite places. He had always enjoyed it alone, but knew instinctively that Harry would be enchanted. When they came to water, they drew rein together. “This is Barn Elms wetlands. It attracts migrating wildfowl from across the world.”

Harry pointed. “Swans.”

“They are mute swans—they have black faces. This place has crested grebes, and tufted ducks, as well as teal and goldeneye.” A spotted woodpecker flitted from the trunk of one elm to another, and the leafy branches were alive with buntings and warblers.

“This is a magical place. Just look at the butterflies!”

Thomas dismounted and lifted Harry from her saddle. He pointed at some wildflowers. “That’s a golden skipper butterfly.” He tied the reins of their horses to a tree and pointed to the ivy growing up the trunk. “This is a holly blue.”

“How exotic. I’ve never seen a blue butterfly before. Oh, look, its legs are striped!”

“Dip your hand in the water and hold it out.”

Harry did as he bade and was delighted when a butterfly came to her fingers to take a drink. “It’s a purple hairstreak from Ireland, but I’ve never seen one in England before.”

He took her hand and kissed it. The butterfly moved to her hair. Thomas reached up and removed the crystal-beaded snood, and her dark hair cascaded onto her shoulders in wild disarray. He cupped her face gently in the palms of his hands and dipped his head to capture her lips in a kiss designed to steal her senses. When he finally withdrew his mouth, she raised her lashes and he saw that her green eyes were dreamy.

Thomas took her hand and led her beneath a spreading elm. As lapwings cried overhead, he knelt in the lush grass and pulled her down before him. He removed his jacket, undid the buttons on the bodice of her riding dress, and laid her back in the grass. He came over her, brushed his lips across her temples, kissed her eyelids, and trailed the tip of his tongue across her cheekbones. When he took possession of her mouth, she opened her lips, inviting his ravishment.

He did not withdraw his mouth until she had been thoroughly kissed, and her lips were bee-stung. As he gazed down at her, her tattooed wrist reached out and she undid the buttons on his shirt. He found it amazingly erotic. Her palm stroked the hard muscles of his chest and she threaded her fingers through the black hair that furred his flesh.

“I once imagined what it must feel like to have my naked breasts pressed against your wide chest. . . . At last I’m about to find out.”

He opened the bodice of her riding dress and then unfastened the ribbon on her chemise, freeing the luscious globes from their confinement. He caressed them with his eyes, then his hands. He bent slowly and anointed her breasts with his lips. Then he gathered her against him, rubbing his chest against her nipples until they stood erect with arousal.

“Undress me and make love to me,” she gasped.

Thomas brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek and shook his head. “No, Harry. I won’t make love to you until you are my wife.”

“Why not?” she cried.

“Because there will be pain.”

“I don’t care!” she cried passionately, thumping his chest with her fist. “I won’t agree to marry you until I have irrefutable proof that you love me.”

“How can giving you pain prove that I love you? You are being willful, Harry.”

Her anger flared and she tried to sit up, but Thomas wouldn’t allow it. “You dominant devil! You need to be in control—that’s why you won’t make love to me.”

“Say you’ll marry me.”

“No!”

Her shout startled the wildfowl into taking wing.

“You’ve frightened the ducks off the pond, you tattooed little wanton.”

The amusement in his eyes caused her anger to melt away, and she began to laugh.

“Marry me.”

“Perhaps.” Green eyes looked into silver. “But first I want proof that you love me.”

“Why the hellfire would I saddle myself with an outrageous baggage who flies in the face of all my principles if I didn’t love you?”