“Don’t be flippant; my head can’t cope with it. I’m being serious: what are you doing here?” Edmund was struggling with coherent thought.
“You withdrew from society. I never saw you,” she said quietly. Charles had been correct; Edmund did look the worse for wear, and it wasn’t just through a night of heavy drinking. There was a few days growth on his beard. There were bags under his eyes emphasised by dark circles. She was the one who had caused him to look so dishevelled, and her heart tugged for him. She wanted to reach out to him and draw him to her, but as yet, she did not know if he would reject her.
“There’s nothing in society for me anymore.”
“Lord Grinstead is missing you,” Clara probed.
“He can go to hell! I should’ve never got involved with him; it’s been too high a cost.”
“But you wouldn’t have met me if you hadn’t been involved with Lord Grinstead and his battle against the French,” Clara said, contradicting everything she had said previously.
“If I hadn’t met you, we would both be getting on with our lives as we had until then,” Edmund said bitterly.
“That’s true, but then again…”
“What, Clara? What is it you want from me? Has Charles gone astray again?” Edmund asked feeling as if he were being tortured.
“Charles brought me here, in fact, he brought you to this room. He’s returned home many hours ago,” Clara explained.
Edmund sat on the edge of the seat. It looked as if he were ready to spring up and leave Clara. She could not let him walk away so easily. She stood and moved in front of him crouching down before him, folding her hands over his own clasped ones. He felt cold to the touch, and she worried about him.
“The last time we spoke, I spoke too hastily. I was reeling from what had happened; I lashed out at you, and I’m sorry for that,” Clara said softly, slowly rubbing warmth into Edmund’s hands.
“You’ve always hated what I did. I’m still under pressure to rejoin Grinstead, although, after I nearly destroyed the last operation, he might not be quite so keen to allow me in on the next one,” Edmund said with little humour.
“What did you do?”
“I saw you being captured, and he had to hold me back to prevent me going to you straight away. I didn’t care if I got killed in the process, I just had to reach you. He eventually convinced me to wait, but when I heard the scream from inside the cave I just ran. I nearly collapsed with relief when I saw that you were safe.”
“It wasn’t me who screamed,” she said quietly. It had been Joshua.
“I just thought it was you. I needed to reach you.”
Clara had not realised it at the start of the night, but this was the perfect time to speak to Edmund. His defences were completely down, and he was speaking from the heart, something he would not have done at any other time.
She moved one of her hands and moved his hair out of his eye. “My brave man, I had no idea what was going on, but it was not my scream you heard from the cave; it was Joshua’s, Charles slashed him with his knife.”
Edmund winced. “He could have so easily killed you,” he said with a shudder.
“I know, but he didn’t, and Charles was there and then there was you. I wanted to move to you, but I didn’t have the strength to leave Charles’ side. I’d promised my mother so much, and that night I nearly failed her.”
“Tell me,” Edmund said gently and listened as Clara told him about her deathbed promise and how frightened she had been when Joshua had appeared on the scene. “Charles is his own man. He had to make his own mistakes,” Edmund said gently.
“I know that now and so does he, but I didn’t until then. I hadn’t given him enough credit and only realised on that night that he was a man in control of his own life,” Clara acknowledged.
“And what happens now?” Edmund asked, so close to Clara but not touching her as he wished. Everything could still go so very wrong.
“That depends on you,” Clara said with a blush.
“I need to hear it from your lips, Clara. You’ve rejected me once, and you were quite clear in your condemnation. I cannot presume anything now. I might be declared weak, but I can’t face your refusal a second time,” Edmund said, the surety, which was almost arrogance completely vanished.
“Almost as soon as you’d left the house I knew I’d made a mistake. I speak first and think later; just ask Charles,” Clara admitted with a small smile. “I wanted to call you back, beg forgiveness for my mistake and start again, but it was too late.”
“And now?” Edmund pushed.
Clara took a breath. “And now I want to be with you in any form that takes. I’m not happy without you.”
“Any form that takes?” Edmund asked in surprise. “Clara, are you offering to be my mistress?”
“I’m offering anything,” Clara said, but it was obviously a response that had cost her.
Edmund freed his hands from her grasp and wrapped his arms around her. “My dear, dear Clara,” he whispered into her hair.
Clara clung to him, torn in two by the thought that he was holding her, but almost crying with despair that he had accepted her offer of being his mistress.
Edmund lifted her chin slightly and kissed her lips gently. “Clara, know one thing that I could never do.”
“What?”
“I could never accept you as my mistress,”
Clara sagged. “Oh.”
“You foolish girl; there is only one thing I will accept and that is you as my wife. I need to be married to a woman who will enter into a den of iniquity to protect those she loves, who will take me to task on the rare occasions that I’m wrong, who will love me as much as I love her. You do love me, don’t you, Clara?”
“I love you and only you,” Clara said in a whisper.
“Will you promise to kiss only me?”
“I promise. Although I’ve heard that one gets far more enjoyment out of kisses if one closes one’s eyes,” Clara said, a gleam of mischief finally coming into her eyes.
“Let’s see; shall we?” Edmund said before lifting Clara onto his lap and showing her just how enjoyable kisses could be.
The End
About this book.
These next few paragraphs might be quite controversial, but please bear with me!
I’m sure like me, you’ve read lots of Regency Romances where the hero is both an aristocrat and a spy. This is actually historically incorrect and, as my readers do take me to task when I get things factually wrong, I thought I’d write a spy story that was slightly different.
Spying as an occupation was not honourable in Regency England. Forget the recent television programmes and books, spying involved lying and cheating and would not have been looked on with anything but disgust by the aristocracy. Also, spying takes time. The aristocracy had to run large estates, they had involvement in the local lives of their tenants as well as being involved in London (Brighton or Bath) life: they hunted, attended the Season and don’t forget the politics they were involved in! I’m not saying their lives were hard, but they were certainly full. Read any realistic spy book, and it will go into detail about the excessively large amounts of time spent watching, observing and listening. It certainly isn’t something that you could dip in and out of.
That said, there is always an exception to the rule! So, I decided to give my two Earls a rebellious streak and have them involved in spying. I thought it was important that, when Clara found out what they did, she would show some of the disgust that they would have experienced if their occupation had been known by wider society.
So, I hope you’ve enjoyed my slight twist. If you have, Henry, Earl of Grinstead
has his own story in “My Earl, the Spy.” Read the prologue now….
My Earl the Spy
Prologue
Dorset 1806
Henry, Earl of Grinstead leaned against the wall. He must be getting old; the operation had nearly come unstuck. If the raid had gone wrong, the lives of his men could have been lost. A year ago that thought would not have affected him, but tonight ̶ tonight he went cold at the different scenarios that could have happened. It was more good luck than good judgement that had saved the day. He let out a long breath; not for the first time, the thought flickered into his mind that he wanted a change.
Millicent Holland, cousin of Baron Glazebrook and chaperone of Miss Baker, respectively, stormed around the edge of the building where Henry had sought a moment’s refuge from the scene of arrests and uproar that was currently taking place on the estate of Baron Glazebrook.
Milly came to a halt before Henry and put her hands on her hips. She blazed with anger; Henry would wonder later if he had actually seen flames flaring at him from her eyes.
“You nearly got them killed!” Milly hissed at Henry. Those who knew her would be astounded if they heard Milly’s tone, or the fact that she was berating the great Lord Grinstead. His position in society, handsome features and confident air would have been enough to silence most people if disagreeing with him. But Milly was not afraid of the man standing before her; oh, he was older than she and had far more influence and power; even more than she had guessed, if the evening’s events were anything to go by, but it did not matter; his actions had threatened her family.
“But I didn’t,” Henry responded, easily falling back into his normal devil-may-care slightly cold attitude.
“That was because of Charles’s actions to save his sister; you didn’t give a fig about what could have happened to them!”
“So, the young Baron is a hero in everyone’s eyes and can live on his brave deed for the rest of his days. I’m surprised he’s not shaking my hand in thanks,” came the derisive response.
Henry must have been more bone tired than he thought because he did not see the slap coming. His head whipped to the side with the force of Milly’s hand striking him across the face. She might be slightly built, but a strike fuelled by anger hit its mark well.
“Don’t you dare speak so carelessly about my cousins!” Milly hissed. She had never hated anyone in her life; in fact, she took pride in the knowledge that she could face most things with calmness. Tonight’s events had stretched her to the limit, and only one person was responsible for it in her eyes.
Henry tenderly touched the outside of his cheek; he could taste blood on his tongue. “Most people would be dead after delivering a blow like that,” he said quietly.
“That doesn’t surprise me! You’re obviously easy with anyone’s life except your own. Let’s just say that it’s a warning from me to you to stay away from my family,” Milly ground out. She had the overwhelming urge to continue slapping him until she saw something other than coldness in his hazel eyes.
“Anyone who mixes with smugglers and thieves will always be fair game, Miss Holland.” Henry had to admire the spinster, despite wishing her a million miles away; not many would stand up to him the way she was doing.
“It just proves what sort of a man you are if you go about risking lives so carelessly. Looking after the country’s safety includes considering all the people who live here not just the higher members of society!”
Henry paused for a moment; she was right. He had become so focused on Joshua Shambles that he had forgotten what was at risk; people could have died, and Joshua had escaped capture anyway. What was worse, the scoundrel now knew that Henry was on his trail. He looked at Milly standing before him, glaring at him with the same disgust and contempt that had started to creep into his own expressions when gazing at his reflection. He had started to avoid mirrors to try and block out the feelings that he needed to keep constrained if he was to be effective.
Henry gritted his teeth; he was being a sentimental fool; of course, lives would be put at risk. They were at war with a man who, for the greater part, seemed unstoppable; who the hell did she think she was questioning him? “You have no idea what you are talking about. Go back to your drawing books, Miss Holland and leave the professionals to keep you safe.” His tone was bored and dismissive.
Milly sneered at Henry. “If my safety is dependent on the likes of you, thank goodness I can handle myself. I dread to think what would happen if you were faced with real criminals; you couldn’t even arrest a bunch of smugglers without their ringleader escaping!”
Milly had hit Henry’s pride, shame and guilty conscience in two sentences, and he reacted badly. He took hold of Milly by the tops of her arms and dragged her closer to him. Lowering his face so that their faces were inches apart, gritting his teeth, he almost spat the words out. “You protect yourself? Ha! That’s a joke indeed! You while the hours away drawing or playing some inane instrument while, yes, I do try and protect the likes of you! From the look of you, you’ve never seen an angry man in your life! Tell me this: what would you do if faced by the men your family has seen tonight? Would you stab them with a pencil? What about the man that had his throat slit so badly that he could no longer speak but could still fight off half a dozen excise men? I’d bring him to you only he blew himself apart rather than face capture. I would have loved to see you stand up to him. These men are not the fops that frequented the ballrooms when you were in your youth; don’t confuse the two.”
Henry did not wait for a response from Milly. Some madness had stirred him, and he pressed his mouth roughly against hers, and he kissed her like no gentleman should ever kiss a genteel lady. He possessed her, dragging her into an embrace, pulling her roughly against his hard body.