What the Earl Needs Now (The Earls Next Door Book 2) Page 2

  Suffering was all that he’d known for the past year, and the idea of returning to a normal existence was impossible. For so long, he had been unable to control his life. But here, for the first time, he was in command of when he slept and when he ate. Yet the very thought of any food turned his stomach.

  A knock sounded at the door, and his mother called out for the maid to enter. The servant whispered softly to Charlotte, who thought a moment and then nodded. “Yes, bring her upstairs.”

  “I will not see any visitors,” Matthew argued. But from the look in his mother’s eyes, he suspected she would not listen. She appeared like a war general, intent on getting her way.

  “I cannot imagine why Lady Lily would have any desire to see you in such a state,” Charlotte remarked. “However, she is even more stubborn than I am. And perhaps a beautiful young woman may break through that thick head of yours.” She smiled at him.

  “I’ve no wish to see her.” But as he spoke the words, something stirred within him at the mention of her name. Even after she had gone, he couldn’t stop thinking of her.

  Lady Lily’s beauty had captivated him, but despite whatever past they had shared, he didn’t want her to pin hopes and dreams upon him.

  “You will see her, and furthermore, you will behave yourself. Brownson will accompany her, in case you forget your manners.” His mother returned to the door and offered a hesitant smile. “Lady Lily will help you.”

  But there were some pieces of the past he didn’t want to remember. Idly, he touched the slash upon his cheek where the raw edges had come together.

  Charlotte opened the bedroom door, revealing Lily’s presence. The young woman wore a blue day dress with long sleeves that made a vee at her waist. Her hair was bound up beneath a matching bonnet, and in her hazel eyes, he saw a woman prepared to do battle.

  His mother spoke as if he weren’t even there. “Matthew is in a foul mood, I fear. But Brownson is here, if you have need of him. Would you rather I stayed with you?”

  Lily shook her head and removed her bonnet, handing it to the footman. “I will be fine.”

  Her expression held a challenge, as if she were daring Matthew to throw her out again. She nodded to his mother, and Charlotte pulled the door closed behind her, leaving them alone.

  Lady Lily stood far away from him, and her expression held a blend of curiosity and sympathy. “Good morning,” she greeted him, braving a smile. “Are you feeling any better?”

  “Not really.” He leaned back against the chair, as if he didn’t care if she stayed or left. “But I’m not dead today, so there’s that.”

  “True enough.” Her expression softened, and she moved closer to him, leaning against the same wall. “Do you. . .remember anything at all?”

  “A little,” he hedged. “It’s coming back in bits and pieces.” He didn’t bother to hide his stare, and she met his gaze with an appraising look of her own. A flare of heat descended through his veins, and he was startled at the sudden emotion.

  She took a step closer. “What do you remember?”

  His mind taunted him with the vision of her lying naked upon his coverlet while he stroked her bare skin. Could that be true? God above, had he seduced this young woman and left her? The memories spilled through his brain like water droplets through his fingers. If nothing else, he needed to uncover the truth of what had happened before he’d left.

  But he couldn’t exactly say, I remember you naked. He wasn’t trying to shock her.

  Instead, he fumbled for another sentence and offered, “We met at your sister’s debut.”

  Her face brightened, and she nodded. “We did. Many years ago.” Lily moved to stand by the window, and the sun illuminated her brown hair with hints of gold and red. Her skin was pale, but her lips were the color of a pink rose. “What else do you remember?”

  His mind conjured up soft curves and the gentle flare of hips. He closed his eyes, trying to maintain some grasp of dignity. But it was as if his imagination mocked him, leaving him with inappropriate visions.

  Lily approached the untouched breakfast tray and picked up a strawberry by the stem, idly twirling it as she drew nearer. “Anything at all?”

  Should he tell her the truth? It would likely drive her away. But then, perhaps that would be for the best. She should get on with her life instead of trying to mend the shattered pieces of his.

  So be it. Matthew crooked a finger for her to lean in. When their faces were nearly touching, he murmured, “I remember seeing you upon a bed, wearing nothing but a sheet. I pushed back the sheet and drew my hands over your body. I touched your bare skin and pulled your hips against mine.”

  He rather expected her to slap him. Or at the very least, glare at him indignantly and leave the room in a fury. But she didn’t protest at all. Instead, her hazel eyes turned thoughtful.

  “It wasn’t a dream, was it?” he said quietly. “We were lovers.”

  To his surprise, she nodded. Color rose in her cheeks, but she confessed, “Yes. We were. On our wedding night, such as it was.”

  He didn’t know what to think, though he suspected there was some truth in what she’d said. But he couldn’t quite grasp why he would have taken her innocence and then left her behind. It wasn’t the sort of man he was.

  “Our reunion was not at all what I anticipated.” She pulled out the silver chain with the ring and eyed him. “But my brother, James, told me that you suffered torture in India. And I believe that we should begin again as friends until you remember more.”

  “I’d rather be left alone.”

  Lily gave a slight nod. “I suspect that it’s very difficult to return to all of this after what you endured.” She drew back, holding the strawberry in her fingers. “But I will try anyway.” She braved a smile, but it didn’t meet her eyes.

  “My name is Lily Thornton. My brother is James, the Earl of Penford, and I have a sister named Rose who recently learned to walk again after her illness. My mother is still living, but her mind wanders often.” She straightened. “Now you cannot say that you don’t know me.”

  Matthew held his ground, not knowing what she wanted. But he tensed with every step she took. She moved slowly, her hazel eyes filled with worry. And something deep within him froze.

  Lily halted an arm’s length away. His eyes had adjusted to the light, and the morning sun illuminated her delicate features. A flash of memory intruded, of the sweet taste of her lips.

  Her very presence ignited a desire so fierce, his hands dug into the wooden arms of the chair. In his imagination, he thought of dragging her down to his lap, devouring her mouth, and giving in to the mindless beast of his lust. And he couldn’t understand why he had this response to her. Clearly, his body remembered hers.

  But Matthew didn’t move. Not even when she brought the strawberry to his mouth.

  “Do you want this?” she asked softly. And for a breathless moment, he wondered if she was speaking of herself. He did want her desperately, but he would never trust himself to hold back. This woman was driving him toward madness.

  He bit into the strawberry, tasting its sweetness. Hunger roared through him, and she held the discarded hull. “Do you want more?”

  He did. But not only did he want food, he wanted to taste this woman’s mouth. He sensed that the last woman he had ever touched was her. The years of celibacy caught up with him, drowning him with need.

  He wanted to kiss her, to explore every inch of her skin and make her cry out in ecstasy. Instead, he stood from the chair. For a moment, he looked down at her, waiting to see whether she would flee or stay.

  “I—I’ll get your tray,” she stammered, moving toward the table where his cold breakfast lay. She reached for it and paused a moment, as if she needed to gather her courage.

  “Do you still want me to leave?” She remained standing apart from him, and he understood that his open interest had transformed her mood from determined into that of a nervous young woman. But she was the one who had chosen
to come here.

  “I don’t need you to feed me.” His voice was gruff, encouraging her to go. The longer she remained, the more her presence unnerved him.

  But she ignored him and took off her glove. She set it upon the table before she reached out for a piece of toast and spread it with blackberry jelly. When she offered it to him, he saw that her hands were shaking. Matthew ate it to avoid speaking, though the bread tasted like sand in his mouth.

  She closed her eyes, as if trying to decide what to say. “I waited for you, dreaming of the day when you would return. I never loved any man but you, Matthew.”

  He could not respond, though he knew his silence bothered her deeply. It was clear that Lady Lily possessed a romantic heart. She had thought herself his wife and had spent the night in his arms. But any vows they might have spoken could not have been legal, for there had been no time for a marriage license before he’d sailed for India. She had to have known that. Why, then, had she surrendered herself? And why would he have agreed to it?

  He could hardly remember any of the details. It was as if his mind had shut out the past, and every time he tried to reach back, there were only fragments of memories.

  Lily reached for a fork, but her hand accidentally bumped against a teacup. The porcelain faltered upon the tray, before it tipped and shattered on the wooden floor. The sound was like a bullet coursing through his brain.

  He jerked at the noise, his heart racing. In his mind, he heard his torturer’s voice, softly pleading, “Tell me where the soldiers are, and the pain will stop. I promise you.”

  A cold sweat broke over him, but he refused to yield. Strong arms held down his ankles while a searing agony tore through his feet. The broken glass sliced through his burned soles, and she began again with the questioning.

  “Tell me where they are. . .”

  “Matthew!” Lily was shouting at him, but her voice was not enough to push away the vision. He didn’t know where he was or what was happening. “Let go of the cup. Please.”

  He glanced down and saw that he had picked up the shattered porcelain, squeezing the broken shards into his palms until blood welled up in his hands.

  The footman, Brownson, was already at his side. “My lord, let me help you bandage that.” He withdrew a handkerchief and pressed it gently into Matthew’s palm.

  Lily stared at him with fear in her eyes. “What happened? What did you see?”

  He could only shake his head, unable to form the words. “You should go, Lady Lily. I am not feeling well.”

  She reached out to touch his cheek, but he pulled back, not wanting her to come close. Her expression held sympathy, but she finally stood and let Brownson escort her out.

  The door closed behind her, leaving him with bloodied hands, a shattered teacup, and her fallen glove.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Two years earlier

  “You will be pleased to know that I have found a husband for you,” her father said. “Lord Davonshire has made an offer for your hand, and I have accepted on your behalf.”

  Lily was aghast at his statement. From the pleased look upon George’s face, he believed she should be delighted by his arrangement. “You did what?”

  “I spoke with Lord Chesham, and you will marry his son, John.” Her father had become close friends with Davonshire’s father, the Marquess of Chesham, over the past year. She could only imagine that the pair of them had cooked up this scheme as a means of joining their families in marriage.

  But she would have none of it.

  “No, Father, I will not marry him.” She had met the gentleman only twice, and Davonshire was practically a stranger. Not only that, but she had been in love with Matthew Larkspur, the Earl of Arnsbury, since she was sixteen. Her father knew this.

  She believed with her whole heart that one day she would marry Lord Arnsbury. He was older than she was, but that didn’t matter. He had danced with her at every ball and had even kissed her twice. The memory of those kisses sobered her, for the heated pressure of his mouth upon hers had hinted of far deeper pleasures. She had felt the intensity flowing through her blood, tempting her toward surrender.

  “Lily,” her father interrupted. “Are you paying attention to a word I’ve said?”

  She shook the idle thoughts away. “I’m sorry.”

  Her father straightened and narrowed his gaze at her. “Lord Davonshire is the heir to a marquessate. He’s decent looking, the same age as you, and quite wealthy.”

  With that, George eased himself into a wingback chair, propping his leg upon a footstool. Though he tried to remain cheerful, she didn’t miss the shadow of pain in his eyes. Her father had fallen ill over the past few months, and though he had seen countless doctors, he refused to admit that anything was wrong.

  He leaned back and added, “The wedding will take place before Christmas.” He rubbed at his leg and sighed.

  Lily bit her lower lip, trying to hide her exasperation. Her father believed that marriage was meant for increasing the family’s wealth. Were it up to him, he would simply choose the richest suitor and marry her off. He truly couldn’t understand why she wanted to follow her heart instead of her head.

  She tried another tactic, though it was slightly unfair. “Why not ask Rose? She’s older and ought to marry first.”

  “Davonshire doesn’t want to marry a woman older than himself. And he specifically asked for you.” Her father’s chest puffed out. “Lily, be reasonable. You won’t get a better offer.”

  “I already have,” she blurted out, though it wasn’t true. But it was the only way she could think of to distract him. “Lord Arnsbury has asked to marry me.” Desperation edged her lie, for she didn’t know what else to say.

  Her father made a face and sighed. “Why would you settle for an earl when you could have a marquess?”

  “Because I love him. And he loves me.”

  Or at least, she wanted him to. Lily knew that Lord Arnsbury cared about her a great deal, and perhaps he would love her after they were married. It was quite possible.

  “I cannot marry Lord Davonshire,” she insisted. “Tell him I am flattered by his offer, but no.”

  Her father rubbed at his leg again, wincing when he touched a tender spot. His expression grew serious and hardened. “I will not turn down this offer, Lily. Though I realize you are infatuated by Arnsbury, he’s too old for you. And you hardly know him.”

  “I’ve known him for two years, and he’s James’s best friend. I don’t know Lord Davonshire at all.” It was time to stand up for herself and put her foot down. “I am sorry, Father, but I will not stand back and let you manipulate my life.”

  The iron cast to her father’s face revealed that he intended to go through with this match and would not be swayed. “I am your father, and I am responsible for your future, Lily. I will ensure that you have someone to take care of you. And Rose, too, once I can find a suitable husband for her.”

  “There is time, Father,” she stalled. “Just let it be.” She was only eighteen years old, hardly a spinster on the shelf. “We will speak of this later.”

  He muttered something beneath his breath about the lack of time. She stared at him with a sudden realization. “What did the doctors say about your leg, Father?”

  He grimaced. “They said I’ve been eating foods that are too rich. Nothing to worry your pretty head about.” He braved a smile, but she wasn’t so certain. She was about to ask again, when James entered the drawing room. Something about his demeanor made Lily uneasy, though she could not say why.

  He glanced at their father and said, “I came to tell you that I am leaving in a few days.”

  George straightened in his chair and shook his head. “You cannot leave, James. There is too much to be done here.”

  “I intend to sail to India,” her brother replied. “I expect to be gone for the next year, at the very least. Perhaps longer.”

  The air seemed to leave her lungs, and Lily gaped at him. “But why?” India was half
a world away.

  Her father struggled to rise from the chair, his face purple with anger. “Absolutely not.”

  And in answer, she saw the trace of rebellion in her brother’s face. He met George’s fury with indifference. “We have business dealings with the East India Company. I believe now would be a good time to expand our interests.”

  “You have responsibilities here,” George insisted. “You are my heir, and you cannot go traipsing off on a fool’s errand in India. I forbid it.”

  James gave a faint smile. “Of course you do.” But he didn’t appear at all concerned. “But I intend to go, nonetheless. And you cannot stop me.”

  Her father’s face turned thunderous. “If you try, I will cut off your funds.”

  “I have my own wealth, Father. And I am quite certain that you can continue ruling Penford in my absence, just as you’ve done for the past twenty-five years.”

  He had planned this for some time, Lily realized. After he’d returned from school, her brother had been forced to obey their father’s commands, learning to become the next earl. But she knew he had despised every moment of it.

  “James, please,” Lily reasoned. “India is so far away. I don’t want to imagine you alone for an entire year. It may not be safe.”

  He reached out and ruffled her hair. “Oh, I’m not going alone. Arnsbury is accompanying me. It will be an adventure, and we will seek our fortunes before the chains of marriage are clapped upon us.”

  The very floor seemed to sway beneath her feet. “Lord Arnsbury is going with you?” It felt as if she were caught in a tunnel, and a roaring noise filled her ears.

  She saw the look in her father’s eyes and the smug satisfaction. If Matthew went to India, there was nothing to stop George from forcing this marriage. Even James would be gone and could not support her cause.

  “Yes, Matthew is going to keep me out of trouble.” James winked at her. “He can try anyway.”

  Lily took a chair and sat down before her knees buckled beneath her. She needed to see Lord Arnsbury to learn for herself if this was true. Her mind spun with all the consequences of James’s journey. Her brother was arguing with their father, though she paid little attention to their words. This was a battle for control, and James had no intention of remaining their father’s puppet. He would forge his own path, regardless of the consequences.