Page 28 of Passions of a Wicked Earl
Wrapping the sheet around herself, she moved away from him as though separating herself from him would distance the truth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Pushing pillows behind him, he sat up. “I’m an artist. I notice the smallest of details. I have painted Lynnford. I’ve also painted Stephen. Did you think I’d not notice the similarities? Does Lynnford know?”
Tears burned her eyes. “You can’t tell him.” Her voice was hoarse, rough. “He’d never forgive me.”
“Tessa, I would never betray your trust.”
She shook her head. “I could scarce believe when Ainsley named Lynnford to serve as guardian over the boys in the event of his death. I fell in love with Lynnford when I was married to Westcliffe. We had a brief affair. Westcliffe did not care. I’d given him his heir, and he had his own paramour. I had only just discovered I was with child when Lynnford informed me that he would no longer be involved with me. He was getting married, and he would not betray his wife. I think he always believed that Stephen was Westcliffe’s. I never corrected him.” She released a strangled laugh. “They were always at odds—father and son. I think because they are so much alike, but neither of them could see it. Oh, God.” She buried her face in her hands. “I have carried that secret for so long.”
He wrapped a hand around her foot. “Tell me,” he urged.
She wanted so much to unburden herself, to someone, and he was so dear. “I have never stopped loving Lynnford. And I have loved Stephen all the more because he is his son. And my other sons have suffered because of it. Especially Morgan. As much as I tried, I could never feel close to him. He was so distant—like his father. Stephen was such a joy, always wanting to snuggle.”
Leo moved up and folded her within his embrace. “You were a child when you had Morgan.”
“It is no excuse. Morgan paid the price. I do not even know if he is capable of love.”
“He is. He is simply cautious.”
She tilted her head back and peered at him through her tears. “Do you think Claire could love him?”
“All things are possible.”
“I do not want him to be unhappy. I’ve been happy only twice in my life. When Lynnford was my lover—and now … with you.”
“Marry me, Claire.”
Her heart nearly broke with his hushed plea. She cradled his cheek. “No. I am not for you, my sweet.”
“I shall prove you wrong.”
As he brought her beneath him, she hoped he would. But she suspected her heart would not listen.
Chapter 9
The carriage traveled through the London streets with all due haste. The meeting had gone longer than Westcliffe had anticipated it would. It was only because he wanted to ensure that his sister by marriage felt welcomed that he’d urged the driver not to dally. It had nothing to do with the fact that his wife had seemed to want him there. He couldn’t have cared less what she wanted. But still he was determined to be a good host.
Usually he enjoyed the meetings with the other investors. Today he’d found it tedious. He’d been anxious to leave. It was strange to find himself arranging his time around someone else. He had made one stop following the meeting: to purchase the bracelet that matched the necklace he’d given Anne earlier in the week. He’d not seen her since.
Last night, he’d had dinner with Claire, then retired to his library to read. It had begun to rain just before evening, and he found little more comforting than losing himself in a good book while the rain pattered against the windows. So he’d indulged. Although mostly he’d heard the moving about of furniture in the rooms above his head. What was it with Claire and this constant rearranging of things?
And why did it amuse rather than irritate him?
This morning, when he’d emerged from his bedchamber, the fragrance of flowers in the hallway had nearly knocked him off his feet. He’d never seen so many vases filled with assorted blossoms, sprinkled throughout the residence as though his wife wished to bring the gardens indoors. He supposed she was doing what she could to offset the dreary earth colors that he preferred. In retrospect, perhaps he was doing the same as she, only he was striving to mimic the country. At times, he missed Lyons Place. It wasn’t enough to visit only once or twice a year. But the women were not as abundant. So he’d chosen London and left Claire at the estate.
From a practical standpoint it worked well because it made it convenient when Parliament was in session. Being in London also gave him leave to take a more active interest in his investments. The meeting this morning involved a small company of a dozen investors, their railway line only one of many that crisscrossed over the countryside. Years ago, it was the small companies that had provided the means to establish railways through Britain, but now the larger companies were buying them up. They’d had an offer and were divided regarding whether or not to take it. He suspected they would discuss, argue, and contemplate for months. But in the end, they would sell. And then he would look for something else in which to invest. He enjoyed the challenge of determining the perfect investment.
But still, just like his encounters with women, something was lacking.
He glanced out the window as his carriage turned into the circular drive in front of his residence and he nearly choked. Three coaches were lined up, each bearing trunks. He could see his footmen struggling to remove one from the first vehicle. Was Claire’s sister traveling with an entourage? He was accustomed to peace and quiet in his household. Claire had disrupted it enough. And now this.
Reminding himself it was only temporary, he shored up his resolve to bring a hasty end to Beth’s search for a suitable husband.
He caught a glimpse of Claire standing off to one side, her arm around a young woman he didn’t recognize. Beth, no doubt. He’d not seen her in years. She’d not attended their wedding.
His carriage rolled to a stop. As he disembarked, he saw Claire draw her sister protectively against her side. Dear God, did she think him a monster? He shortened his stride to give himself more time to approach and observe the newest addition to his household. She greatly resembled Claire. Her hair was slightly lighter in shade, but as he neared, he could see that her eyes were just as blue. She had Claire’s small dollop of a nose, but her lips were neither as full nor as generous. Still, there could be no denying they were sisters—whereas he and his brothers hardly favored each other at all.
“My lord,” Claire began, “you remember my sister—Lady Beth.”
