An Earl Like You Page 13

  A silly smile formed on her lips. Hastings lifted his head, gorgeously rumpled, and his mouth quirked with satisfaction. “My lady,” he said, his lips brushing hers.

  “My lord,” she said, still shocked it was so.

  “Hugh.” He kissed her harder. “My name is Hugh.”

  She knew that, of course. She’d looked it up after the first day he walked with her in the garden. “Hugh,” she repeated tenderly.

  His smile was intimate and knowing. “I shall speak to your father immediately about setting a date for the wedding.”

  Eliza flushed from head to toe. He must have guessed what was going through her mind, for he pressed one finger to her lips. “Only about the wedding,” he said firmly. “Not a word about this.”

  She beamed at him in gratitude. He levered himself upright and Eliza felt cold without his body atop hers, inside hers. He fished out a handkerchief and pressed it gently between her legs. She blushed scarlet when he took it away spotted with blood.

  “Let me clean it,” she said, reaching for it as she shoved down her skirts.

  He only winked and folded it into his pocket. “Proof that you’re mine and mine alone.” As before he helped fix the top of her dress, taking every chance to touch her breasts. Eliza wondered in a daze how soon they could be married, and he could make love to her yet again.

  He tucked his shirt back in and buttoned his trousers, almost entirely as he was before except for his charmingly rumpled hair. Eliza dared to reach out and smooth some of the wayward curls down, and he let her. A thrill of happiness shot through her; as his wife, she would be able to touch him whenever she liked.

  “Shall we go back?” He offered his arm.

  Eliza didn’t want to. For one thing, she knew she looked a fright, with her dress crumpled and her hair mussed, to say nothing of the glowing smile on her face. Her belly throbbed with every move she made. Instead of going back to the house, she wanted to stay here, in this sheltered little world where it was just the two of them. Hugh might hold her and kiss her and make love to her again, and this time she would be ready for it . . .

  “Eliza?” He was waiting, watching her quizzically.

  She blushed and told herself not to be a ninny. She put her hand on his arm very properly, as if she hadn’t just given herself to him on a chaise in the folly, and let him lead her back to the house. After all, they would have years and years to make love to each other, and be in love, and live happily every after.

  Chapter 15

  Hugh wasted no time sending word to Edward Cross that his suit had been accepted, and he wished to set a date for the wedding. Now that the deed was done, there was no reason for delay.

  He also asked Cross to advance him ten thousand pounds of Eliza’s dowry. Benwick had grown annoying, and it was time to settle things with him. Edith had refused to speak to him since the day Eliza came to tea, and Hugh hoped that a happy engagement of her own would soften her feelings toward her future sister-in-law.

  The first part of the plan went smoothly. Cross responded at once, suggesting a date less than a fortnight hence for the wedding and saying that his solicitors would forward the funds at once. He closed the note with an insouciant wish for Lady Edith’s happiness. Hugh scowled at that. He was tired of Cross interfering in his life, and felt an overwhelming urge to keep his mother and sisters away from the man.

  The last step was telling his family. His mother knew as soon as he came into the room; he could tell by her face. His sisters looked at him in surprise, since he didn’t usually join them for breakfast.

  “Hugh!” Henrietta jumped up and dashed across the room to give him a hug. “What a surprise!”

  “Good morning to you, too,” he said with a laugh. “Why so surprised? Never be astonished by a man wanting breakfast, Hen. Even the best of brothers must eat sometimes.” He took his seat as his mother poured a cup of coffee and a footman set a plate in front of him. “Good morning, Mother.”

  His mother’s smile was a little strained. “Good morning, dear.”

  “Good morning, Edith,” he said pointedly to his other sister, whose attention had returned to her breakfast.

  “Good morning, Lord Hastings,” she said coolly, her attention on her eggs.

  “Edith,” murmured their mother.

  Henrietta glanced at her sister’s set face, then turned to Hugh, determinedly cheerful. “When will Edith’s wedding be, Hugh? I long to have a new gown for it, but Mother says there may be no need this Season. That cannot be right—Mr. Benwick is so eager to marry her, surely you won’t make them wait until next year.”

  “As it happens,” Hugh told her, “I have just sent a message to Mr. Benwick this morning, arranging an appointment with the solicitors.” Edith’s head jerked up, and she gave him a wide-eyed look. “As to new gowns, I have no opinion on that, but if you can have one made quickly—” He stopped because Edith had leapt from her chair with a shriek of delight and run to throw her arms around his neck.

  “Thank you, Hugh, thank you!” She kissed his cheek. “I will write to Reggie immediately. Mother, shall we have the wedding here? Or is there time to get St. George’s?”

  The countess took a sip of her tea. “You may send an inquiry to the church. I suppose it depends on what Mr. Benwick wants.”

  Edith laughed. “Reggie will want whatever is sooner! Oh, if only you’d told me earlier, Hugh—thank you!”

  “What choice did I have?” he exclaimed in mock indignation. “All I’ve seen are sour looks and sad faces around here. It’s enough to make a man flee the house . . .”

  “Silly!” She resumed her seat, still beaming. “All you had to do was see Reggie so that we might set a date. You have only yourself to blame, for being so slow about it.”

  “Yes, yes, I understand we men are slow about everything.” He picked up his coffee. “Perhaps when I am married, my wife will keep me on time.”

  “The poor girl,” teased Henrietta. “Who would accept that challenge?” Edith laughed, obviously thinking they spoke in jest. The countess gave Hugh a speaking look and reached for her teacup.

  “It may come as a shock to you, but I believe I’ve found someone willing to take it on.” He raised his brows as Henrietta’s and Edith’s mouths dropped open in identical shock. “Try not to faint in amazement.”

  “Who?” demanded Henrietta. “Is it Catherine Thayne?”

  “Fanny Martin,” guessed Edith.

  “Mrs. MacMurray? Tell us, Hugh!” demanded Henrietta eagerly.

  “Elizabeth Cross.”

  The room fell silent. Edith gaped at him in horror. Confusion flashed across Henrietta’s face before recognition made her sit back, wide-eyed and mute.

  His mother bestirred herself. “Has she accepted you?”

  “She has.” He spoke heartily, trying to convey pleasure with the news. No one moved. He held out his hands. “Come, has no one a word of congratulations?”

  “Congratulations, Hugh,” murmured Henrietta, with a hesitant look at her sister.

  “No,” said Edith suddenly. “I shan’t say a word in praise of such madness. How could you do this?”

  “I went down on one knee, and she said yes.” He hardened his heart to the mutiny in her face.

  She turned to their mother in appeal. “Surely you can’t approve?”

  The countess didn’t look at Hugh. “It is your brother’s choice to make, Edith. We must be gracious and kind to his wife.”

  Hugh’s mouth firmed. He knew “gracious and kind” was not what Eliza wanted. She hoped to gain a mother and sisters, as well. But he left any reproof unspoken; there would be time for his family to accept Eliza. Once they saw how warm and genuine she was, he was sure they would.

  Not that it mattered. In ten days’ time, Eliza—and her dowry—would be his, before God and the law.

  The next two weeks passed in a blaze of joy for Eliza.

  It wasn’t entirely on her own behalf. As Eliza had hoped, Sophie had confessed al
l to her duke, and in return the duke had persuaded her to marry him. Their wedding was small but lovely, and not even Georgiana’s avid whispers of some last-minute scandal at the Vega Club could make Eliza stop smiling. She hoped she would be as radiantly happy as Sophie on her own wedding day, even if she could not be as beautiful.

  And then it was her wedding day. She had wanted it to be small and intimate, and it was. The sun shone in a flawless blue sky, and Willy wore a yellow bow around his neck. Mary curled her hair into the most fashionable cluster of ringlets and set a wreath of barely opened yellow rosebuds on top of it. Eliza hardly recognized the girl in the mirror; today she was pretty.

  Her father was waiting to walk her down the stairs. She saw him wipe away a tear when she stepped out of her room, and he kissed her cheek with unusual gentleness. “More beautiful than your mother,” he said gruffly. “May you be as happy with Hastings as I was with her.”

  “Thank you, Papa,” she whispered. “For everything.”

  Mr. Reeve married them in the drawing room, with Belinda standing happily beside him, and Cassandra and Jane holding matching bouquets at her side. Papa had finally made the donation he wanted, and the vicar was beaming ear to ear as he said the words that made her Hugh’s wife. Eliza could hardly look away from her bridegroom. His hair had been slicked back and he wore a green jacket that reminded her of her garden, mossy and vibrant. He repeated his vows in a clear, firm voice, while Eliza could barely whisper hers, but then he put a gold ring on her finger and they were wed.

  “Eliza!” Georgiana enveloped her in a hug when it was over. “I wish you every joy in the world.”

  “As do I,” said Sophie, now the Duchess of Ware. “I’ve never seen you look happier.”

  “I’ve never been happier,” she said honestly. “Not just for me”—Georgiana raised her brows, her eyes sparkling—“but for all of us.” She clasped her friends’ hands. “Never did I imagine . . .”

  Georgiana laughed. “I did! I told you years ago you would find someone who adored you.”

  “And who didn’t care about your deplorable lack of skill at sums,” put in Sophie, making them all laugh.

  “I don’t know about that,” said Eliza, flushed with love. “Hastings hasn’t asked me about sums yet . . .”

  “No, I wager he’s thinking of something else entirely when he looks at you,” murmured Sophie, watching Hugh. He stood across the room, speaking to his mother and sisters.

  Eliza’s mood dimmed a fraction at the sight. Lady Hastings—now the dowager countess—had given her a gracious smile and welcomed her to the family, but with genteel reserve. Lady Edith and Lady Henrietta had been no more than polite. Lady Edith in fact was almost cold, and Lady Henrietta had tried to avoid looking at her at all. Eliza had never had siblings, and she didn’t remember her mother. She had hoped her sisters-in-law would be like true sisters, but it was clear they didn’t feel the same.

  “Yes, as a married lady now, you must learn to recognize what it means when a gentleman looks at you that way.” Georgiana darted a wary glance over her shoulder, but Lady Sidlow, her chaperone, was speaking to Sophie’s husband. The duke was regarding Lady Sidlow with ducal hauteur, but Eliza had noticed he always looked that way until Sophie crossed his vision. Then his blue eyes grew hot and his mouth softened, and she would swear he was imagining doing wicked things with his wife.

  “You mean the way His Grace looks at Sophie?” As they were watching, Ware glanced their way, and the searing look he gave Sophie made them all blush.

  “Yes,” murmured Sophie, pink-faced. “That way.”

  “I know,” Eliza whispered. “I know about all that. I never thought I would need to know, but—”

  “My Lady Hastings.” Hugh’s voice behind her made her jump. She turned to see him bow. “May I take you in to our wedding breakfast?”

  She blushed. “Yes.” Her friends waved her on, Sophie returning to her duke and Georgiana heading toward the Hastings girls with a determined expression. Eliza couldn’t help but notice that their faces grew markedly more welcoming at her approach.

  “Why so grim?” Hugh took her chin in his hand and studied her face. “Regrets already?”

  She laughed in embarrassment. “No! More that I feel suddenly overwhelmed—no longer simple Miss Cross, but the Countess of Hastings, who sounds so much grander.”

  He grinned. “Does she? And yet I plan to take her to bed and make her sigh and moan in ecstasy tonight, which sounds much finer than being grand.”

  “Stop!” Scarlet-faced, she squeezed his arm. No one was near enough to hear, but it still gave her a shocked thrill when he said such things to her.

  “Then don’t look at me like that.” His voice dropped, and his eyes wandered over her. Eliza felt lovely in her peach silk gown with white lace, but when Hugh looked at her that way, she wanted to tear it off. “It makes me want to steal you away, back to the folly, and leave everyone else to the cold meats.”

  “We couldn’t possibly,” she whispered back, even though she would have preferred it. Lady Edith was watching her with something very close to dislike.

  Hugh sighed. “Later, then.” He raised her hand and kissed her knuckles, right where her new ring shone.

  “Yes,” she said happily. “Later.”

  They left Greenwich several hours later. Papa had arranged for the yacht to take them back into the heart of London, where Hugh’s driver would meet them. Sophie and the duke departed in their carriage. Since their wedding a few days earlier they had been at the duke’s country house in Chiswick, and Sophie murmured to her that they might never go back to London. Georgiana had wanted to go on the yacht, too, but Lady Sidlow firmly denied it. The carriage was good enough, she declared, and Georgiana bade Eliza farewell in a flurry of hugs and promises that she would call on her as soon as possible.

  “After all, Lady Sidlow cannot fault me for visiting the Countess of Hastings!” she whispered in glee. Her chaperone was insufferably proud, to Georgiana’s disgust.

  Eliza laughed and waved good-bye. Hugh waited behind her, but when she turned, he cocked one brow. “May I take you home now, ma’am?”

  “Of course.” Eliza blushed as Roberts brought her cloak and bonnet. It wasn’t for the last time, but it suddenly felt like it. On impulse, she seized the older man’s hand. “Good-bye, Roberts. Look after Papa, would you?”

  The butler, who had been in their household for as long as she could remember, smiled. “I will, madam.”

  Papa walked with them down to the dock. Mary, her maid, had left for London earlier with Eliza’s baggage to make everything ready at her new home. The dowager countess and her daughters were already aboard the yacht, and Hugh stood waiting to hand her onto the deck.

  Eliza threw her arms around her father. “I can’t believe I’m leaving,” she said on a little gasping sob. “Good-bye, Papa.”

  “There.” He smoothed her hair. “No tears! You’ve made me so happy, Lilibeth. A noble husband for my beautiful girl—your mother would be so proud and delighted. You tell me if Hastings doesn’t make you happy,” he teased with mock severity. “Remind him I want several grandchildren, and that I don’t like to wait . . .”

  With a watery laugh, she kissed him good-bye and let him hand her over the rail into Hugh’s arms. They stood on the deck together and waved until Papa was out of sight. Only then did she lean into her bridegroom’s side and sigh.

  “You may visit him whenever you want,” he told her.

  “I know. It just seems so strange to leave him.” Her eyes felt sticky at the thought of Papa alone in the big house every day. She knew that was silly; he would surely spend most of his time in London, playing cards with Mr. Grenville and visiting the widow in Portland Place. He had always said nothing would make him happier than to see her wed, and he must have many reasons for it.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Hugh assured her. “Let me see to my mother. She isn’t fond of boats.” He went forward to where his mother
and sisters sat, leaving her to her thoughts.

  Chapter 16

  When they disembarked at Whitehall Stairs, a carriage was waiting for the ladies and a horse for Hugh. He helped her up the step and winked. “Almost home,” he said with a grin.

  Eliza smiled, but a nervous flutter started in her chest. Home. She barely remembered the Hastings house near St. James’s Square. She’d been so nervous about meeting his mother, nothing much about it had registered, but now it was her home. She tried to pay more attention as they drove.

  The house was not as large as she remembered. Only five windows wide, it was smaller than its neighbor and built of old red brick. Eliza had thought it looked charming and quaint the first time she visited, but now it looked a bit dingy, as well.

  Well. There was nothing wrong with dirt. It could all be scrubbed away, and now that she was mistress of the house, it would be her responsibility to see it done.

  Lady Edith and Lady Henrietta barely stopped to leave their bonnets and cloaks in the hall before heading right up the stairs. Lady Hastings murmured something about writing letters before excusing herself into the small morning room where Hugh had kissed her. Eliza knew it was rude, but she didn’t know why. Perhaps they were feeling a little melancholy at the thought of Hugh being married, or were exhausted after the wedding. Eliza hoped they would warm to her in time, and she resolved to be as cheerful and understanding as possible to that end. Fortunately Hugh stepped up and put her at ease, presenting her to Wilkins, the butler, and Mrs. Greene, the housekeeper.

  “Would you like to see your room now?” he whispered in her ear. “You must be tired.”

  Eliza blushed at the tone in his voice. “Yes, thank you,” she said, even though she wasn’t much tired. He gave her a sly look that promised no sleep at all, and they turned toward the stairs.