Her Errant Earl (7 page)

Her expression softened. “How thoughtful of you.”

Well, he wasn’t an ogre for Christ’s sake. He may have been
an inattentive scoundrel for the first few months of their union, but he did
have eyes in his bloody head. He was beginning to get aggravated by her aloof
air, and the feeling was a welcome one.

He deliberately ignored her, turning his attention to the
butler who stood at proud attention. “Wilton, I should like to read my
correspondence while I break my fast this morning. I find I’ve a rather busy
day ahead of me.”

He stole a sidelong glance at his wife to gauge her
reaction. Her plump lips had compressed into one of her pinched frowns. Her
brows were drawn together as well. Perhaps she was wondering what would occupy
him for the duration of the day and take him away from her company. Not a
blessed thing, but she needn’t know it.

Pleased, he resumed eating his breakfast. He hoped she found
him as vexing as he found her. She was warm, then cold. Told him she loved him,
then wouldn’t look at him. By God, he was confused enough on his own without
her to further muddle things.

“Is something amiss, Pembroke?”

Yes, damn it. Everything was amiss. He was mooning over his
wife and lying to her at the same time. He raised a brow and fixed what he
hoped was a suitably wilting stare upon her. “Of course not, my dear.”

He knew he shouldn’t dwell on his subterfuge. Unfortunately,
what had begun as a necessity now held much more dire repercussions. He had no
doubt if she discovered his motivation for becoming a husband in truth, she’d
wallop him in the noggin with
A Tale of Two Cities
. And once again take
up her addle-pated notion of divorce.

He didn’t want divorce, that nonsensical American concept.
He rather enjoyed having a wife, especially one as delectable as he was
suddenly discovering Victoria was. Perhaps the novelty of it would wear off, he
couldn’t be certain.

The return of Wilton bearing a salver of various-sized
envelopes saved him from further unwanted conversation. He dug into them with
the same gusto he applied to his meal.

The sudden pallor of her husband’s skin did not escape
Victoria as he scanned one of his letters. She’d been watching him,
consternated by his sudden lack of interest in her. Odd that she’d become so
attuned to his moods in such a short time. Perhaps odder still that she’d
become so accustomed to expecting his attention.

She yearned to ask him who had written and why it had so
disturbed him. But their olive branch was still lying on the table between
them, neither quite trusting enough to pick it up. Given his reticence in her
chamber, she wasn’t certain how far she could push him.

He glanced up at her, catching her gaze upon him. Her heart
jumped into a faster pace at those blue eyes fastened on hers, bright and
seeking. Pembroke cleared his throat, a habit she’d begun to take note of that
happened whenever he was at a loss for words.

“It seems my father has deigned to write me a letter,” he
said, his tone harsh.

There must have been something in the contents of his
father’s letter that had upset him greatly. She proceeded with care. “What does
the duke say?”

William pinned a forced-looking smile to his lips. “He sends
us his regards.”

“That is all?” It wasn’t precisely that she didn’t believe
her husband, but she was suspicious. Guilt nipped at her. “The letter appears
to be rather voluminous.”

She could see the letter was of lengthy proportions, the
duke’s dark scrawl visible as her husband held the letter in question up to the
light. She found it curious too that the duke was aware of her husband’s
presence in the country. She frowned as her doubts heightened. Unless of course
it had been sent up from the Belgravia House. Perhaps she was over-thinking it.

He folded the epistle with care and slid it inside the
pocket of his jacket. “He also prattles on about his falcons or some such.”

Falcons. Did he think her obtuse? No man wrote an entire
page filled with nonsense about falcons. She pressed on, more convinced than
before that he was hiding something from her. “What has upset you then? Perhaps
you harbor a strong dislike for falconry?”

“Upset?” He raised an imperious brow. “On the contrary, my
dear, I’ve never been happier.”

She considered him for a moment. “You don’t appear happy to
me.”

“But I am. The miserable old codger also writes that he
plans to grace us with his presence.” Bitterness laced his voice.

The duke had spoken to her on exactly two occasions thus
far, once at a ball given in honor of her betrothal, and once on her wedding
day. All other communication had been strictly conducted with her father.
Victoria had been a bartered commodity, a necessary addition for the sake of the
hallowed family coffers. Perhaps the notion of the duke’s visit had distressed
William. Lord knew it didn’t sit well with her. He was stuffy and had a way of
looking at her that made her feel as if she’d dropped a glob of aspic on her
silk dress.

Despite her reservations, it was her duty to play hostess to
the man. The duke’s arrival would likely send the household into an uproar.
“When does he plan to arrive? I’ll need time to prepare.”

“Three days hence.” Pembroke couldn’t have worn a more
disgusted expression had he just bitten into a plate of rotten eggs instead of
Cook’s heavenly creations.

Three days.
Dear God.

Victoria nearly dropped her fork. She stilled, plastering a
pleasant expression to her face. “How delightful.”

“How dreadful would actually be more like it.” He muttered
what sounded like a rather rude round of curses beneath his breath.

“He can’t be all bad.” Could he? She had to admit that as
unflappable as Pembroke seemed in all other matters, when it came to the duke,
he was very much affected. Surely there was a good reason for it.

“You shall see.”

She wondered again at what could have rendered her husband
so cold, so hateful toward his father. Perhaps he would never confide in her.
Lord knew he was adept at avoiding serious subjects in favor of other, far
naughtier pursuits.

Pembroke abruptly dropped his fork to his plate. “I find
I’ve quite lost my appetite. Would you care for a ride, my lady?”

Victoria wasn’t precisely at home on a horse. Equestrienne
had never been one of her talents. She hesitated. “I’m not certain I’m in the
mood to be jostled about.”

Of course, the opportunity to spend more time with her
husband was appealing indeed. She very much wanted to continue in their
tentative pax. Perhaps the awkwardness of the morning could be mollified, at
least in part.

“Pray take pity on me, my dear. I’ve had a rough morning.”
He gave her a grin that sent heat straight to her core.

The man knew how to make her bend to his whims. He was
dangerous.

“Very well,” she agreed after a bit of introspection. “I’ll
accompany you.”

Her husband had given her the most docile mare in the
stables. The horse was so calm, in fact, that Victoria would have sworn she was
sleeping on her hooves except that she kept plodding along at an exceedingly
slow pace. Pembroke, meanwhile, rode a horse as sleek as it was fast. They’d
only been riding for a few minutes and already she was tiring of only having a
view of his mount’s hindquarters.

“Pembroke,” she called.

He stopped and turned back to her. “What is it, my dear?”

“I thought you said you wanted me to accompany you.”

He frowned as she caught up to him and reined in her
sluggish horse. “You
are
accompanying me.”

“Not precisely.” Her horse began nosing through a clump of
grass, deciding it was time for a second breakfast. “I’ve been staring at your
back the entire time.”

“I’ve been told I have a delightfully broad back. I thought
you may have wanted to admire it.”

His tone was deadly serious. Victoria searched his bland
expression, trying to discern if he was having her on. She couldn’t tell. Each
day with Pembroke was proving an altogether enlightening experience. Finally,
he laughed, the hard planes of his handsome face softening. There was much more
to him, she thought, than the stranger who had abandoned her in favor of living
a wastrel’s life in London. He continued to surprise her and work his way
deeper into her heart. Drat the man.

“I’m teasing you, Victoria.” He grinned at her. “Don’t you
Americans ever laugh?”

An answering smile tugged at her lips. “Of course we do.”

He sobered. “I suppose I haven’t given you much cause for
levity.” He paused, his gaze intense upon hers. “Let’s dismount and take a
walk.”

Without waiting for her response, he dropped from his mount
with effortless grace and reached up to assist her. His hands circled her waist
as he helped her to the ground. When her feet were safely in the grass once
more, however, he didn’t release her from his hold. Instead, his hands lingered
upon her, his tall form pressing into her diminutive one.

“You are impossibly lovely,” he murmured, his head lowering
toward hers.

She turned her face at the last moment, presenting him with
her cheek instead of her lips. He kissed her just the same, but his grip
tightened on her.

“Am I being punished for this morning?”

Victoria tore her eyes from his, lest she allow him to charm
her into indulging in the passion flaring even now between them. She wanted to
show him she could be as unaffected as he by their encounters. Of course, that
wasn’t at all true, but she had a suspicion that she shouldn’t allow him to see
her entire hand in the game they played.

“What have you done that requires punishment?” she asked in
lieu of answering his query.

He released his grip on her waist with one hand and gently
touched her chin, forcing her to look at him once more. His gaze was blue,
snapping with seductive fire and something indefinable. Penance? She couldn’t
be certain.

“I left you in haste this morning,” he said lowly. “I’m
aware I was an ass. I cannot make an excuse for myself, save to say that I
meant you no insult. My mind was simply weighed down with weightier matters.”

She raised a brow. “Weightier matters?”

He cleared his throat, looking ill at ease. “Estate
business,” he clarified with obvious ambiguity.

“Indeed?” It was her turn to raise a brow. “I was under the
impression you haven’t ever handled estate matters here at Carrington House.”

“Devil take it, you’re a prying woman,” he groused. “Very
well, if you must have it, I was overwhelmed by the realization that I cannot
seem to get enough of my lovely wife.”

She didn’t think she believed that explanation any more than
his first. But his words sent desire slipping through her wanton body just the
same. “Somehow, I suspect you’re mocking me.”

“Not at all, my dear.” His eyes darkened. He caressed her
cheek again. “I wouldn’t jest about that.” He traced a path down her throat,
stopping at the first fastener on her high-necked riding habit. “Bloody hell,
you’re always over-buttoned.”

Victoria laughed at his frustrated observation, partially to
dispel the troubling surge of want swirling through her. “It’s the first stare
of fashion, you know.”

“Fashion should think a bit more about a man who wants to
debauch his wife,” he grumbled, unhooking the top button from its mooring.
“There we are. Only eight hundred more to go.”

“Pembroke,” she protested, scandalized that he was beginning
to disrobe her in the middle of the day, in the out of doors.

“I’m back to Pembroke, am I?” He continued opening her
bodice. “I shall have to remedy that.”

Taking a fortifying breath, she forced herself to look over
his shoulder. His horse was starting to wander. It presented the perfect excuse
to regain her ability to resist him. “You may want to tether our horses first.
I’m certain mine won’t travel too far from her meal, but yours is another
matter entirely.”

“Damn.” Wearing an aggrieved look, he released her and
strode after his horse.

Victoria deemed it best to undo the damage he’d wrought upon
her smart wardrobe. Quickly, she refastened her bodice. She watched as he
secured both horses before turning back to her. The moment was alive with
sunshine and possibilities. She had to admit he cut a dashing figure in his
riding breeches. He was tall, lean and muscular. The intensity in his eyes made
her heart kick up its pace.

He stopped a scant few inches from her, giving her a boyish
grin. “Now where were we? Devil take it, you’ve done yourself back up. That’s
against the rules.”

She raised a brow, trying not to smile as it would only
serve to encourage him. “I wasn’t aware there were any rules involved.”

“Only rules of my making.” He winked.

“You aren’t a fair competitor, my lord.”

He snagged an arm around her waist and dragged her into his
hard body. “Is this the first time you’ve become aware of that fact, dearest
wife?” He lowered his head, close enough to kiss.

Oh he was tempting her again already, the sinful man. Best
to stave him off by any means possible. Her mind was fogging up with the ardor
he generated within her. “Perhaps you should tell me what the rules are before
I begin playing the game.”

“I must say I’ve always preferred the element of surprise,”
he told her lowly before taking her mouth in a crushing kiss.

Her arms wound about his neck of their own volition. She
opened for his tongue, reveling in the sensual way he dipped inside her mouth
to taste and tease. His hands slid up the small of her back, a possessive brand
she adored. Her resolve crumbled as if it were a ship being dashed against a
rocky shore. She wanted him, and he knew precisely how to make her give in to
her desires.

Victoria pressed herself closer to him, breathing in of his
divine scent, already so dear to her. She returned his kiss with all the fervor
clamoring to life within her. Somehow, it no longer mattered that they’d begun
the morning badly. All she could feel was his powerful body, his knowing touch,
his claiming kiss.

Dear heavens. What did he do to her?

He broke the kiss at last, making a muted sound in his
throat. Victoria’s breathing was ragged, her stays cutting into her waist as
she struggled to regain her senses. She clung to him, not wanting the embrace
to end. He looked down at her, his eyes fierce, sparkling with naked desire.

“I’m beginning to regret I suggested riding instead of
merely returning to your chamber.” He sighed. “Let’s take our walk, shall we?
If we linger another minute, I fear I’ll take you here in the grass like a
common stable boy.”

A mixture of disappointment and relief speared her. She took
his proffered arm and started off with him. Thankfully, she’d worn a pair of
serviceable boots. Otherwise, her shoes would have been ruined by the uneven,
damp ground. At least she could maintain her sanity when he wasn’t kissing her,
she reasoned.

“It’s a lovely day,” she murmured, opting for a safer
subject. And it truly was. While she’d only grown accustomed to English weather
slowly, she was beginning to admire it for its dramatic, often mercurial
nature. Everything seemed so much more vibrant, greener, and more alive than
New York. She found, much to her surprise, that she preferred the country to
the city.

“Fair weather today indeed,” he agreed, his tone light and
affable.

One almost wouldn’t guess he had nearly been about to make
love to her in the weeds. But Victoria knew, and it still sent a raging fire
through her blood. She tried to focus on the scenery, the lush trees and
verdant fields. In the distance, sheep grazed in a pastoral setting. The result
was quite picturesque, even if she continued to catch herself stealing sidelong
glances at her husband’s handsome profile.

“Where are you taking me?” she had to ask. He was guiding
her down a path that seemed to lead nowhere, but she followed because she
supposed he knew where he was going. Didn’t he?

“To the river, my dear.” He patted the hand that rested in
the crook of his elbow. “You’ve appallingly little faith in your husband, have
you not?”

She bit her lip as she mulled over how to answer that
particular question. The truth was that she had faith and yet she did not. Just
when she trusted, it seemed she ought not to do so. He was a conundrum indeed.

“On second thought, leave whatever’s rattling about in your
pretty head unspoken.” He sighed. “I can tell from your expression that it
won’t be anything I’d prefer to hear.”

She cocked her head, considering him as they continued to
tramp on. “I won’t say it then.”

“Good.” His grip on her tightened. “Tell me something I
don’t already know.”

Victoria laughed. “Have you anything in mind?”

“My dear girl, how can I have ought in mind when I don’t
know it yet?”

Another burst of laughter escaped her. He could be rather
entertaining when he chose, and his charm seemed effortless. “What interests
you? That is what I meant to say.”

“Hmm.” He looked down at her, his eyes dancing with merry
blue light. “What of your family? How many siblings have you?”

She pursed her lips. He ought to have known. “I told you
while we were courting. Don’t you remember?”

His expression clouded. “Ah, yes. There are five of you,
aren’t there?”

“Six,” she corrected, her tone tart. He hadn’t listened to a
word she’d ever said, had he?

“Just so.” He cleared his throat. “Felicitations on your new
sibling.”

“Libby is twelve years old,” she pointed out unkindly.

“Christ,” he muttered, abruptly halting their walk to face
her and take both her hands in his. He was very serious as he gazed down upon
her, his face stark with masculine beauty. “I have a confession to make, my
dear. I wasn’t a good suitor to you. If you were speaking, chances are strong I
wasn’t listening. Pray don’t hate me for it, but there it is.”

She had suspected as much by now, but his admission
nevertheless stung. “I don’t hate you,” she allowed, “but I must admit I’m not
terribly impressed. Am I so boring then?”

“Not at all.” He squeezed her fingers, trapped as they were in
his large grasp. “It is merely that I was that much of an ass.”

No point in saving him the shame, she decided. For the first
time in his life, it was time he paid what was due. “You were.”

He brought her hands to his lips for a pair of kisses that
sent desire skittering through her. “Forgive me, my dear?”

“I suppose so,” she conceded. “But when next I ask you, you
had better be able to tell me that I am the eldest of six daughters.”

“Six daughters?” He looked aghast. “Don’t tell me we’re to
have all girls as well. I’ll go mad.”

The mentioning of their future children sent an entirely
different sort of emotion washing over her. Good heavens. Even though she had
reconciled herself to the fact that she was expected to produce an heir for his
family, she hadn’t truly given the notion much thought beyond that. She thought
of their lovemaking the previous night and earlier that morning. Oh dear.
Victoria was certain she was flushing cherry red.

She forced her mind back to the topic at hand. She’d been
berating him, not mooning over him, drat it all. “Yes, six girls,” she
confirmed. “Take note of their names as well, since you ought to know them by
now. There is Rose, Lillian, Edith, Pearl and Libby.”

As she spoke their names, it occurred to her just how much
she missed them. They were all younger than she in age, but dear in their own
ways. Sometimes, New York and her old life there still beckoned her with its
cozy familiarity and the comfort of knowing she was well-loved.

“Right,” he interrupted her thoughts. “Roberta, Laura,
Edith, Pearl and Louisa.” His tone was hopeful.

“Rose, Lillian, and Libby.” She gave him a good-natured
swat. “You’ll meet them all someday, I expect, and then you’ll be able to
recall their names. I’m sure they all plan to follow in my footsteps.”

“God help them,” he remarked, his voice drenched in
self-deprecation.

“God and their sister,” she said, striving to lighten the
mood. “I know how to navigate the treacherous social waters on this side of the
world.”

“Thank Christ you’re a forgiving soul,” he muttered. “Lord
knows I don’t deserve you.”

“No,” she granted, happy he’d noticed but wanting to make
him squirm just a bit, “you don’t.”

Rose, Lillian, Edith, Pearl and Libby. Good Christ, he was
going to have a gaggle of daughters before he ever had an heir. If he even
sired an heir, that was. He should have been suitably horrified. But the devil
of it was, he didn’t truly give a damn. If Victoria bore him a dozen daughters,
they would all still be theirs, bright-eyed, flaxen-haired little girls to be
cherished.