My Brown-Eyed Earl Page 23

  Good Lord. “I’m afraid I don’t know one,” she said through her teeth.

  “No matter. You may hum any song as long as you hum it slowly.”

  “Perhaps you should hum a song slowly, my lord.”

  “Unfortunately, none of the tunes I know are suitable for young, impressionable ears. Really, Miss Lacey, any song will do.”

  Meg opened her mouth to toss a retort at him, but Diana looked up at her with pleading eyes.

  “Very well,” Meg huffed. And because she could think of nothing else, she hummed God Save the Queen. Everyone joined in on the second verse.

  “A stirring rendition,” Will said soberly. Blast him. “Now, at last, it’s time we laid this gown to rest.”

  “We’re going to bury it?” Diana asked excitedly.

  “Not quite. I thought we would follow the Viking tradition,” Will said.

  Valerie’s eyes went wide. “What’s that?”

  “Surely, in the course of your studies Miss Lacey has taught you about the Norse customs?”

  “No, my lord,” Meg said dryly, “we’ve focused solely on English history thus far, and I fear we were unable to cover eight centuries in the two weeks since I’ve arrived. Perhaps you would like to tutor the girls in a bit of Norse history?”

  He nodded as though conceding the point. “We haven’t the time to delve into the finer points of funeral pyres, ship burials, and Valhalla. Suffice it to say we’re going to burn the dress. Follow me.”

  With great deference, he lifted the pillow, balancing it on his outstretched arms as the girls and Meg formed a small procession behind him. He led them down the stairs, into the drawing room, and in front of the dormant fireplace. Reverently, he placed the bundled dress on the grate, added some firewood and kindling, and reached for the tinderbox on the mantel. “Ready?” he asked.

  The girls nodded and watched as Will knelt and lit the fire. They stared raptly as the tinder ignited, followed by the kindling and the dress and the logs.

  For several minutes, no one spoke. The twins sank onto the carpet, mesmerized by the flames that licked the gown, slowly turning it to ash and smoke.

  At last, when the dress was no longer recognizable, Diana sighed. “I’m not sure why, but I feel better now.”

  Meg did too. Sometimes letting go of things felt good. But most of the time it was very, very, difficult. Letting go of her parents and her home had nearly broken her. Even now, eight years later, a simple sound or smell could resurrect the grief and bring it back in full force.

  And now she was going to have to let go again. Of the twins and Will. And while it couldn’t possibly be as bad as losing her parents, she suspected she’d feel the loss keenly.

  As though he’d read her mind, Will sat on the floor between Diana and Valerie. Meg pulled up an ottoman and perched on the edge. “I’m glad you feel better,” he said to Diana. “You and your sister have shown a great deal of courage over the past few weeks. We may have gotten off to a difficult start—”

  “What does that mean?” Diana asked.

  “He yelled a lot in the beginning,” Valerie offered helpfully.

  “—but Miss Lacey and I have been impressed by your hard work and your loyalty to each other. That is, when you’re not fighting.”

  “Why are you telling us this?” Valerie asked, ever perceptive.

  “An excellent question. I spoke to your mother when she visited today, and she would like you both to go back home with her, tomorrow.”

  The girls gaped at one another, unbelieving.

  “I told her the choice is yours. Would you like that?”

  “Home,” Valerie repeated. “Yes.”

  Diana bit her lip then burst into tears.

  “Oh dear.” Meg flew to her side and rubbed her back. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head and sputtered, “Nothing’s wrong. Mama really does want us.”

  “Of course she does, darling,” Meg said. “You mustn’t doubt that.”

  “It sounds as though you’ve made your decision,” Will said. “But I want you to remember that you do have a choice. You are welcome here—and you always will be.”

  For several heartbeats, no one spoke.

  “We’re really going home tomorrow?” Valerie breathed.

  Will squeezed her shoulder and smiled. “Your mother will be here at noon.”

  Above the twins’ heads, he and Meg exchanged an unexpectedly poignant look. So this was truly good-bye. Their motley little crew would soon disband.

  And as they sat on the floor of the elegant drawing room, watching the charred remnants of her dress sizzle in the grate, Meg reminded herself that this was the outcome she’d wished for—that they’d all wished for. It was time for them to move on.

  Chapter THIRTY-THREE

  Will swore he’d wait till after midnight to visit Meg’s room, but it was only half past eleven when he knocked lightly on her door. She answered quickly, admitting him into her dimly lit bedchamber wearing the silky blue nightgown he’d purchased earlier that day. The lace bodice and thin satin clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination and setting his blood on fire.

  “I see you received my gift.” He leaned against her door and drank in the sight of her luminous skin and lithe limbs. “Do you like it?”

  She smirked as she leaned her hips into his and walked her fingers up his torso, starting at his waistband and lingering at the open neck of his shirt. “You say it is a gift for me,” she teased, “but I think, perhaps, it is more for you.”

  “It’s the most selfish gift I’ve ever given,” he confirmed. “I regret nothing.” He resolved to return to the shop tomorrow and order a dozen more, one in every color of the damned rainbow.

  “I do like it,” she admitted. “Er, what there is of it.”

  Despite her playfulness, there was a sadness in her eyes he couldn’t ignore. And as much as he wanted to drag her to the bed and rip that pretty nightgown off of her, he knew they had to talk. “Come.” He laced his fingers through hers and pulled her toward the chair in the small sitting area. She sat, tucking bare feet beneath her, and he perched on a footstool opposite her.

  “You seem melancholy. Do you have reservations about letting the girls return home?” Strangely, part of him hoped she’d say yes, so he’d have an excuse to delay their departure.

  “Nothing specific. It seems so sudden, though. I’m going to miss them.”

  He grunted.

  “And I think you will, too.”

  “Yes,” he said dryly, “I’m sure I’ll be at loose ends without all the bickering, tantrums, and chaos.” But he knew he wasn’t fooling Meg.

  She rolled her eyes. “And I suppose you were the perfect child. A true angel.”

  Grinning wickedly, he said, “I think you know better than that.” He leaned forward. “I spoke to Mrs. Hopwood earlier. She’s agreed to go with the girls and help care for them at Lila’s.”

  “That’s good,” she said. He could see the relief plain on her face. “They’re fond of her already, and I like her too. Perhaps it will make their transition easier.”

  “Yes.” And it would give him peace of mind, as well. He would continue to pay Mrs. Hopwood’s salary and had no qualms about asking her for regular updates on Valerie and Diana’s well-being.

  “I’ll help the girls pack their things in the morning.” She pressed a palm to her forehead, frowning. “I wish I’d ordered cloaks for them. I’d thought it could wait till the weather turned cooler.”

  “Make a list of anything you think they might need, and we’ll see that the items are delivered to Lila’s.”

  She nodded and tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you. Saying good-bye to the twins tomorrow is going to be … difficult. I wonder if I’ll ever see them again.”

  “Of course you will,” he said, even though he had doubts himself. “We will.”

  “I don’t know. This may be a painful time in their lives that they’d just as soon forget. An
d if that’s what they wish, perhaps we should let them.”

  “I made a promise to my friend—their father. I’m responsible for them and will be for as long as I live.” But the truth was that they’d become more than a responsibility. More than a burden. They’d become … family.

  “You have that connection to them, but I … I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do.” Through me, he wanted to say. We’re in this together. But he had to go about it in the correct way, and that meant being honest with her. About everything—his father’s debt, the possibility that he’d played a part in her parents’ deaths, and his mother’s complicity in the entire affair.

  Most of all, he needed to be honest with Meg about his feelings. He loved her. And not because he liked sparring with her or kissing her or watching her melt in his arms—although he was very fond of all those things.

  The truth was that he loved her for who she was at her core—loyal, compassionate, funny, and kind.

  And she deserved to know.

  He reached for her hand, brought her fingers to his lips, and met her gaze. “Meg, there are a few things I need to tell you.”

  * * *

  The day had been fraught with emotion, and if this was Meg’s last night under Will’s roof, she didn’t want to spend it talking. They needed to transcend words and conversation with intimacy and pleasure.

  After all, some day, several months from now, assuming she was able to keep Uncle Alistair and her sisters out of the poor house, she and Will might well have a chance meeting in the park or at a soiree or on the street. And there would be time for talking then. They’d smile politely at one another, and he’d inquire about her family, and she’d ask after the twins, and they’d each respond in a pleasant, if vague manner. It would seem almost impossible that she’d once pressed her bare skin against his, or that he’d whispered impossibly naughty things in her ear, or that he’d made her cry out in ecstasy.

  Her decision made, she pushed herself out of the chair, walked behind the footstool where he sat and slipped her arms around him, pressing her chest to his back.

  “Meg—”

  “Please,” she breathed, gliding her hands over his shoulders and reveling at the hard contours of muscle and flesh. “Whatever you want to discuss can wait. Right now, I … I need you.”

  The muscles in his back tensed, and she knew he was battling desire, fighting attraction … and losing. She slid her palms down his arms and brushed her lips over the warm skin above his collar. “I’ve missed you,” she murmured.

  His hands gripped the edge of the stool. “Jesus, Meg. I’ve missed you too. I dream about you every night and a dozen times throughout the day.”

  She came around to kneel in front of him. “And now you’re here.” She slid her hands over the tops of his thighs and caressed the hard length of him. “With me.”

  The curse he muttered thrilled her. “You are making it damn near impossible to resist you.”

  “That was my plan,” she admitted as she unbuttoned his trousers.

  When she touched him, his eyes glazed with desire, but she was far from an expert in these matters. “Show me,” she said. “I want to please you.”

  Swallowing, he guided her hand.

  “Like this?” She savored the feel of him, hard, large, and warm.

  “God, yes,” he choked out.

  Emboldened, she bent her head and licked the bead of liquid off the tip.

  “Meg.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “You’re driving me mad—in the best possible way.”

  “Good.” She loved seeing him like this, drunk with desire and burning for her. She tasted him again, tentatively at first, mimicking the motion she’d used with her hand. He moaned each time she took him deeper, gasping from pure restraint.

  “Enough,” he said at last, pulling back and closing his eyes as though he needed a moment to regain control. Meg sat on her heels, pleased with her efforts.

  “You’ve bewitched me.” He gazed at her hungrily. “And now you must pay.”

  Laughing, she scrambled away from him but managed only two strides before he scooped her into his arms, stalked to the bed, and tossed her unceremoniously onto the mattress.

  “The governess in me feels obliged to tell you that jumping and rough play on the bed is inadvisable, as it often results in damage to something or someone.”

  He chuckled as he hauled off his shirt, and the sight of his rippled torso left her mouth dry. “You are one part vixen,” he said, “one part governess. I adore both sides of you, however, right now, I believe I’d like to see more of the vixen.” He crawled over her, pinned her wrists above her head, and kissed her until she could barely form a thought, let alone a sentence.

  “Need you.” Her body arched toward him, aching from desire.

  But he took his time, suckling her through a layer of silk lace and stroking her slick entrance until she was dizzy with wanting.

  “You and I, Meg,” he whispered seductively, “we are perfectly matched. No one else makes me feel like you do. And I know just what you like, too.” His wicked fingers demonstrated his meaning, caressing the spot that brought her the most pleasure and bringing her closer and closer to pure bliss.

  She heard herself begging as her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Please, Will. I need you. Oh God … oh…”

  With a growl, he thrust inside, filling her perfectly. He speared his hands through her hair and rocked his hips in a rhythm that drove her mad. Doubts and uncertainties may have lurked in the back of her mind, but they were no match for the solid weight of him lying atop her and the delicious feel of his hair tickling her neck. Her body responded to him as it always did, and she hurtled toward the abyss, crying out as they came together in an exquisite, soul-shattering release.

  They drifted off after that, their legs tangled and his arm draped across her waist. Never before had she felt so safe, so content, so … loved.

  But when she woke a couple hours later, a chill skittered down her spine. She reached behind her and patted the cold mattress. “Will?”

  “It’s all right.” He stood by the window, gazing down into the garden wearing only his trousers. “I’m here.”

  She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Why are you out of bed?”

  He gave a hollow laugh. “If I stayed there beside you, I would have taken you again.”

  Her pulse quickened and she stretched a hand toward him. “Come back.”

  Regret plain on his face, he shook his head. “We do need to talk, Meg.”

  She shuddered again, but not because of the cold. She’d known this time would come—the time when they’d have to face hard truths, and she could delay it no longer. “Yes, of course.” She tucked the blanket beneath her arms, turned up the lamp on the table next to her, and steeled herself for whatever he would say.

  As though he didn’t trust himself to stand too close to her, he leaned against the post at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. “Yesterday, I learned something about your past—our pasts, really. I think it’s important that you know.”

  Chapter THIRTY-FOUR

  “My past?” Meg swallowed. When the past was filled with grief, guilt, and loss, one expended a great deal of energy attempting to avoid thinking about it.

  Will nodded. “I’ve discovered a secret, and while it can’t change the events that happened, it may shed some light on them.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest. What if she was happy to remain in the dark? She suspected the secret had to do with her parents, and new information about them was likely to reopen the wound from their deaths. “Are you certain it’s necessary?” she asked. “Some secrets are best left untold.”

  “Maybe, but I thought you’d want to know the truth—especially since it has some bearing on your current situation.”

  “You’re speaking in riddles.” She blew out a breath, exasperated, but Will was right. Deep down, she needed to know the truth. “Very well. Tell me.”

  �
�I was going through some of my father’s things and found a promissory note. It seems he owed a large gambling debt—to your father.”

  Meg frowned. “To Papa? Are you sure? I never knew him to play cards.”

  “I don’t know what they bet on, exactly, only that the stakes were high. My father owed yours—ten thousand pounds.”

  Her chin dropped. “That’s impossible. My father had a very modest income.”

  Will sat on the edge of the bed, his tousled hair gleaming in the moonlight. “Then he must have been a very shrewd gambler.”

  But that did not fit with her memories of Papa, who had spent most afternoons visiting the sick and most evenings reading the Bible. It was possible he’d had some hidden vices, but ten thousand pounds was not the sort of bet one made on a casual game of loo.

  “I inherited my father’s estate and, with it, his debts,” Will said soberly. “I owe you and your sisters ten thousand pounds.”

  Dear God. It was an amount too great to fathom. Had they known about it, it could have changed the course of their lives. “Forgive me, but I find it all rather difficult to believe. It’s a fascinating story, to be sure, but with both our fathers gone, it’s likely we’ll never know the truth.”

  “I have the IOU, Meg. I spoke to my mother about it, too. She confirmed it’s true.”

  She felt a little stab of betrayal. “You spoke to your mother about this, but not me?”

  “I’m telling you now,” he said softly, “and there’s more. Our fathers agreed to an alternate form of payment.”

  “I don’t understand.” Suddenly cold, she began to shake. “What sort of payment?”

  “Your father agreed to forgive the debt if—”

  “No.” Hands trembling, she covered her ears. But it was too late. She knew what Will was going to say—and it broke her heart.

  In an instant he was at her side, trying to comfort her, but she ducked out of his embrace. “Please, don’t,” she begged.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this news would upset you so.”

  She blinked, aghast. “You didn’t realize it would hurt me to know that my father thought he had to pay ten thousand pounds to the boy next door in order to marry me off?”