An Unexpected Earl Read online

  The dark temptation of that ached into her limbs and made her breasts grow heavy, knowing he would give her every pleasure her foolish body craved. But that’s all it would be, all it could ever be—only physical, only temporary.

  She could never belong to him, not completely. Parting with him when they were younger had been agonizing. If she gave herself over to him now, to love and be loved in return, leaving him this time would be so much worse.

  It would end her.

  Mistaking her hesitation for uncertainly, he slowly approached her and slipped his arms around her to draw her against him, then leaned down to kiss—

  “No,” she whispered, her hand pressing at his shoulder to keep him away.

  He stilled, then slowly pulled back until he could stare down at her. The raw yearning she saw in him stole her breath away.

  Her heart tore. To surrender and accept the joy that being with him would surely bring—she wanted nothing more. Nothing more!

  Yet she somehow found the strength to whisper, “I can’t—we can’t.” A fierce stinging filled her eyes, blurring his face behind her gathering tears. Thank God. Because she couldn’t have borne seeing his expression when she breathed out, “It’s too late for us.”

  Thirteen

  Amelia hurried back to the ballroom, pushing her way through the crush in her desperation to find her brother. To put an end to all of this. To banish Pearce back into the past where he belonged—

  “Frederick!”

  She spotted him in the crowd, surrounded by a handful of gentlemen he knew from Parliament. Her blood turned cold. She knew that even now he was pushing for the turnpike, even now using his influence for his own gain.

  When she reached him, she inhaled hard for both air and courage. “I need to talk to you.” She eyed the men around them and rested her hand on his arm. “Privately.”

  “Not now, Amelia.” He pulled his arm away, then tugged at his jacket sleeves as if her touch had soiled him. “I am in the middle of a conversation.”

  “This cannot wait.”

  “It can wait, and it will.” He jerked his head toward the refreshments. “Go drink a glass of punch and calm yourself. I’ll find you later.”

  The men chuckled at how he’d dismissed her. As if she were nothing more than a child who needed to be scolded by her guardian.

  But she wouldn’t tolerate it. Not this time. “I will not assist you with pushing through your trust.” She took a deep breath and announced, “If you want this turnpike, you’ll have to do it without my help.”

  That made their laughter choke in their throats. Their eyes darted to Freddie for explanation, but he only glared at her, his face instantly red with anger and humiliation.

  As she spun on her heel to leave, he grabbed her arm and hauled her to the side of the room, garnering surprised stares from the men and bewildered looks from the other guests.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he seethed, so angry that he shook. “I need those men to speed the act through before Parliament ends. If they think you’re not behind it—” He forced out through gritted teeth, “For God’s sake, the blackmailer will destroy everything, don’t you understand? Everything!”

  “You mean that he will destroy your corrupt career,” she shot back, keeping her voice low enough not to be overhead. But anyone in the crowd with eyes could have seen they were arguing. “Not me or my charity—you’ve never once cared about how the blackmailer could destroy my shop and ruin the lives of all the women who work for me. All you care about is yourself, your own career, your own gain. And you’ve committed all kinds of illegal activities because of that.”

  “You don’t know—”

  “I know!” she hissed out in a whisper so she wouldn’t be overheard. “All the lying and cheating, the political favors… God only knows what other things you’ve done that I don’t know about. It all ends now. Now, Frederick.”

  There would be hell to pay once the ball was over and they were home, where he could berate her openly, take away what little allowance he gave her, once again threaten her shop—

  But she simply couldn’t go on this way. God help her, but she’d rather endure Freddie’s wrath than Pearce’s affections. The anguish would be less.

  “If you push on with this trust, then you’ll do it without my help in persuading Pearce.” She choked as her throat tightened. “I’m done with your games. All of them.”

  His hand tightened on her arm, and his face twisted with outrage. “Why, you ungrateful, ruined piece of—”

  “Miss Howard!”

  The Duchess of Hampton appeared at her side, all smiles and flitting fan, but Amelia could sense the underlying tension in her. And the concern.

  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. And here you are.” Danielle’s gaze dropped icily to Freddie’s hand as he gripped Amelia’s arm, and she muttered, “With your caring brother.”

  With a smile, Danielle slid her arm around Amelia’s and gently took it away from Freddie, who had no choice but to release her unless he wanted to create a scene, one involving a duchess no less. But he was livid at being interrupted. Amelia could see it in the way his lips nearly snarled like a dog’s.

  “You hurried off so quickly before we had the chance to finish our conversation.” Danielle turned her attention to Freddie and smiled tightly. “I wanted to invite your sister to Charlton House for dinner next week. Of course, Mr. Howard, we would expect you to escort her.”

  He straightened at the offer of dinner with a duke. “Of course, Your Grace, I’d be honored—”

  “Do you know my husband, Mr. Howard?” She dismissively waved a gloved hand at herself, for foolishly asking that question. “But of course you do. It seems my husband knows everyone from being a general at Waterloo and now as a duke. Simply everyone.” Her eyes fixed coldly on Freddie. “Given that he seems to know everyone and has a great deal of influence over Parliament and the Regent—and given that I have a great deal of influence over my husband—” She laughed, but the warning she was delivering was clear as glass. “I would hate to be one of those men foolish enough to displease either of us.” Her smile faded. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Howard?”

  He paled as he realized the true meaning behind the duchess’s invitation. To put him in his place.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” he returned stiffly. Her point had struck home like an arrow.

  The duchess no longer bothered with polite pretense. “Your sister is obviously unwell, and whatever conversation you two were having seems only to have distressed her further.” She placed a second hand on Amelia’s arm in a private suggestion that she remain silent. But Amelia wouldn’t have dreamed of stopping her now. The woman was a force of nature. “I’ll see to her care this evening, and the Duke and I will make certain she arrives home safely.”

  “Your concern is appreciated, but you needn’t trouble yourself. I can attend to Amelia and—”

  “Absolutely not.” The hard look Danielle shot him brooked no argument.

  Amelia stared at her, blinking. Good heavens, who needed her husband’s army to come to the rescue when the duchess was as capable as this on her own?

  Danielle forced a smile that left her eyes cold. “I see no reason for you to leave the party early. I think you should spend the rest of the evening here enjoying yourself. All evening.” Her voice was soft, but the order to stay away from Amelia tonight was hard as stone. “Don’t you?”

  Without waiting for an answer, the duchess turned Amelia around and led her away through the throng of people.

  “Are you all right?” Danielle squeezed her arm. “When I saw how he’d grabbed you like that—”

  “I’m fine, truly.” Now. She’d come to several realizations this evening, not the least of which was how much she admired Danielle Braddock.

  “If he strikes you once you’re h
ome—”

  “He won’t.” No, her brother had other means of punishing her. “He’s mostly bluster.”

  Nevertheless, she persisted, “If he does, you have friends in Marcus and me.” She paused. “And in Pearce. Please remember that.”

  Amelia looked away before Danielle could see the emotion darkening her face. It wasn’t a friendship with Pearce that worried her. “I think…I should just like to go home, if you don’t mind.”

  “Is someone there to take care of you?”

  In other words, someone to come between her and Frederick. “Yes. I have a maid I trust.”

  “And do you trust me enough to tell me what you and your brother were arguing about?”

  “Turnpikes,” she admitted with chagrin. “And how I want no part of them.”

  “I see.”

  No, she didn’t. She couldn’t possibly. Yet Amelia appreciated the duchess at that moment more than she could ever have said. “Thank you for what you did.”

  “It was nothing.” Danielle slipped her a sly smile. “Helping women escape trouble is a specialty of mine.”

  Before Amelia could decipher what she meant by that, they’d reached the front hall, and Danielle gave orders to one footman to send for a carriage and to a second to fetch Amelia’s wrap. Both men jumped into action. Moments later, the first man reappeared to escort her to the carriage.

  Danielle glanced out the door at the hackney and frowned. “Perhaps we should have one of Devonshire’s maids accompany you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Amelia assured her.

  The duchess’s gaze softened grimly on her. “Will you, truly?”

  So much more meaning lay behind that quiet question, and it wrenched at Amelia. “I can’t tell you what’s wrong. I wish I could, but…” Choking off, she shook her head.

  “Then tell Pearce.” She took both of Amelia’s hands in hers and squeezed them reassuringly. “He’ll keep you safe. You can trust him.”

  She might be able to trust him, but she couldn’t trust herself when she was around him.

  Amelia slipped on her cloak and left the house. The footman helped her into the carriage and closed the door. Then the old rig rolled away, down the semicircular drive and out into the street.

  As the wheels turned from one street to another, taking her further away from the party and closer to home, Amelia closed her eyes and rested her head back against the squabs. Oh, how she wished she could vanish into the night, like a ghost into the fog—

  Without warning, the carriage jerked roughly. The team darted wildly to the side of the street with a clatter of hooves against the pavement, throwing her against the compartment wall. They strained against their harnesses as they tried to break loose from the driver and run, and the carriage tossed violently from side to side behind them.

  Grasping the seat edge to keep from being tossed to the floor, Amelia tried to look out the window but could see nothing in the darkness. The carriage halted with a jolt just as she heard men’s shouts rise in anger and echo down the dark street.

  A loud thump hit the side of the carriage, and she gasped, ducking down in the compartment. Good God, what on earth—

  A gunshot split the night.

  The carriage door was yanked opened. A gloved hand reached in for her. She screamed—

  “Amelia, it’s me!”

  Pearce. The scream on her lips turned into a cry of relief. But from the street outside she could still hear shouts and the noise of fighting. All hell had broken loose around them. “What’s happening? Is it a riot?”

  “Come on!” He grabbed her around the waist and swung her down to the ground, then took her hand and pulled her away from the carriage before she had time to catch her breath.

  She stumbled beside him to keep up with his long strides as he raced with her down the dark street. Their footsteps pounded over the pavement, ringing as loudly in her ears as her pulse. No—not their steps, but those of others.

  Her breath choked with fear as she glanced over her shoulder. They were being chased!

  Pearce’s hand locked with hers, and he darted into the service yard behind the nearest house, pulling her along with him. Amelia sprinted to keep pace with him, terrified of being left behind. And just as frightened of the two men who were pursuing them across the service yard.

  When they reached the small stone wall that lined the rear alley, Pearce grabbed her around the waist and threw her over it. She landed on her feet with a jarring thud. He scrambled over after her.

  “Are you all right?” he demanded.

  She gave a jerking nod. “Yes, but—”

  “This way!”

  He seized her hand and ran with her down the alley, not giving her time to catch her breath. She didn’t dare glance back over her shoulder now. But she heard the two men’s pounding steps behind them, closing the distance—

  Her toe caught on a bump, and she fell. Her hands and knees slammed into the stones, and she cried out in pain.

  “Amelia!” Pearce was immediately at her side, his arm around her shoulders and lifting her to her feet.

  Too late. The men had caught them.

  “Halt where you are!” the taller of the two men shouted as they slowed to a stop in the alley less than ten feet away. They were breathing hard from the chase, their hands drawn into fists. The taller one pointed at Amelia and told Pearce, “We only want the woman. Hand her over, and no harm will come to you.”

  “The hell I will.” Pearce moved her behind him to shield her. His gaze darted between the two men, and every muscle in his body tensed. Alertness coiled inside him, ready to spring. “Go away, and no harm will come to you.”

  The two men laughed and started forward.

  “Run!” Pearce ordered Amelia, then stepped forward to meet the attack.

  As the shorter man charged toward him, Pearce hauled back his arm and swung. His fist landed with a sickening thud in the man’s stomach. The attacker doubled over as a whoosh of air poured from him with such force that the sound echoed off the stone walls.

  But the taller man was quicker. When Pearce swung, he ducked, dodging the blow and countering with one of his own. His fist caught Pearce on the chin. Pearce staggered back a step, then recovered his balance and let his right fist fly, followed immediately by a cross punch from his left.

  As he beat the man back, the first man recovered his breath and staggered up from behind.

  “Look out!” Amelia cried as the man swung and landed a lucky blow to the side of Pearce’s head.

  Pearce dropped his shoulder as he spun in a circle, throwing a punch into the first man’s face with his right fist and into the second’s stomach with his left. The sound of bare knuckles thudded sickeningly with each punch, along with groans of exertion at each flinging swing.

  One last jab, and the tall man crumpled to the muddy ground. This time, he couldn’t find the strength to climb to his feet and stayed down on his hands and knees. Blood lay splattered across the alley around him.

  The other man leaned against the stone wall, a trail of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he fought hard to catch his breath and pant down the pain. He glared murderously at Pearce, but he was smart enough to stay back.

  Pearce kept his fists clenched, his eyes on the two men, as he slowly moved down the alley to Amelia.

  He swiped a trickle of blood from the corner his mouth with the back of his hand. “I told you to run.”

  She took his hand and laced her fingers through his. “I’m not leaving you.”

  That stopped him cold for a moment, and his expression softened with relief in the darkness. He bent down to touch his lips to hers—

  “They went into the alley!”

  Pearce stopped, his mouth hovering just above hers. Biting back a curse, he broke into a run again, once more pulling her along with h
im.

  As they raced through the rabbit warren of streets lying between St James’s Square and the river, she could hear men pursuing them, but thankfully, she and Pearce were too far ahead to be seen. In the dark shadows that grew thicker the closer they came to the riverbank and the wharves built up along every inch of it, they were practically invisible. Yet the men remained always behind, like a pursuing pack of dogs nipping at their heels.

  They reached the river. Pearce halted at the top of the embankment to glance over his shoulder. She followed his gaze. Three men wearing all black hurried down the street toward them.

  Biting back a curse, he led her down to the water’s edge. “This way!”

  She followed trustingly, staying close at his side as he rushed her down a set of stone steps to the black river below.

  A boat waited at the bottom of the stairs, its waterman sitting back in the bow, half-asleep. The man jerked up with a start.

  “Downstream,” Pearce ordered, helping her quickly into the boat. “Now.”

  Without waiting for the waterman, Pearce yanked the rope loose from its tie and shoved off, pushing the skiff away from the stairs and into the river’s fast current. But not quickly enough. The three men reached the top of the steps and hesitated only a moment before scrambling to find another boat.

  “Go!” Pearce shouted.

  “Aye, guv’nor!” the waterman returned as he took up the oars and rowed them out into the river.

  In the darkness, Amelia could just make out the three men as they jumped into a boat and pushed off in pursuit. She clutched at Pearce’s hand. “They’re coming after us!” Panic rose in her voice. “They’ll catch us!”

  “No, they won’t.” He tucked her into the hollow between his arm and his side, then turned to the waterman. “Shoot the bridge.”

  “At night, comin’ on t’ high tide?” The waterman paused in his rowing. “Yer fuckin’ mad!”

  “I’ll pay you a sovereign when we come out the other side.”

  “If we come out, ye mean. But it’s yer death.” The man shot a troubled glance at Amelia and muttered, “Hope the lass can swim.”