As an Earl Desires Read online

  "Where's the harm?" Arch asked.

  Spellman darted his gaze around the room as though he was searching for the harm, or perhaps he simply wished to avoid looking anyone in the eye. "The matters I'm here to discuss concern the countess."

  "So you prefer to speak ill of me behind my back rather than to my face?" she asked tartly.

  And Arch wondered why she'd immediately assumed the worst: that Spellman would be speaking ill of her rather than complimenting her.

  "I believe that a woman's place is not among gentleman/' Spellman said.

  "I must disagree, Mr. Spellman," Arch said, before Camilla could issue her retort. "If you are here to discuss matters that concern the countess, then I think she should be present to hear what is said."

  "My lord, I must insist—"

  "No, Mr. Spellman," he cut in. "It is I who will be the one to insist. Let's get to the business at hand, shall we?"

  "Yes, my lord, as you wish." With a final glare at Camilla, which she haughtily returned, Spellman crossed the room, stood behind the desk, placed his satchel on top of it, and indicated the chairs opposite him.

  Once Camilla had taken a seat, Arch joined her. Spellman sat, releasing another drawn-out sigh.

  "It is time, my lord, for you to determine if you wish for the countess to have an allowance and if so what amount would be appropriate. However, I must advise you that you are under no obligation to provide her with anything, not even a roof above her head."

  Arch was acutely aware of Camilla stiffening beside him, thought he could actually see the hairs on the nape of her neck bristling. He, on the other hand, assumed a casual pose, leaned back in his chair, and stretched out his legs.

  While Camilla's strategy when facing an opponent was to reveal her arsenal, Arch's was to keep his hidden until the precise moment it was most needed. He realized he often gave the impression that he wasn't up to the task of seeing to his affairs, but he felt he gained an advantage by not revealing all his strengths—or his weaknesses. "Why in the world would I not wish to see to her comfort, Mr. Spellman?"

  "The previous earl didn't deem her important enough to mention in his will."

  "An oversight I'm sure. The earl was up in years. Did he alter his will at all after he married the countess?"

  "No, my lord."

  "Did you mention the oversight to him?"

  "No, my lord. It was not my place to question the earl's actions."

  "Yet, here you are seemingly questioning mine."

  "Because I fear matters are getting out of hand." Spellman reached into his satchel and retrieved a stack of papers. "These are lists of items bought thus far this year from various establishments throughout London. Each month the countess purchases at least two dozen dresses, nearly as many shoes, a dozen hats, cloaks… the list is endless—"

  "Will you be unable to pay for these purchases when the time comes?" Arch asked. He knew the elite shops—which he was fairly certain were the ones Camilla would make use of—expected their influential clients to be bothered with paying for purchases only at the end of the year.

  Spellman's face turned blotchy as it reddened. "Of course, I shall be able to pay for them."

  "Then I fail to see the problem."

  "The problem is the abundance of items bought. The old earl was an extremely frugal man, but since his death three years ago, expenditures within the Sachse households have gone up tremendously. Thus the reason that I thought I should make inquiries now, rather than waiting to be shocked at the end of the year as I have been each year before you arrived to take the helm. The countess is prone to making unnecessary purchases, my lord, and in truth is no longer entitled to spend the earl's money. A fact that I generously overlooked in the past, because a woman must have some means with which to live. But the matter is now in your hands."

  Arch looked at Camilla. He could understand the increase in spending within the last year as Camilla came out of mourning, but he was baffled that expenditures had increased during the first two years following the old earl's death. He'd had numerous people remark on how faithfully she'd observed the two-year mourning period. None seemed to fault her for quickly dispensing with the half-mourning attire. After all, she was young and a favorite among the Marlborough House Set. Within their eyes, she could do no wrong. They all seemed to want her happiness as much as Arch did.

  Based on rumors he'd heard, he wasn't certain the same could be said of the old Sachse. Perhaps she'd purchased items she couldn't yet use simply because her husband's death gave her a measure of freedom she'd not had while he lived. Arch wondered how many times the previous earl had taken her to task for purchases such as these. As Spellman had also worked for the man, Arch assumed he was familiar with the way the old earl had managed things. But now there was a new earl in London, and it was time everyone began to accept and grow accustomed to his ways.

  "Are they necessary purchases, Camilla?" he asked quietly.

  She turned to him, and he could see the worry lines deepen within her brow. "Yes, Sachse. You see—"

  He held up a hand to silence her explanation. If he determined that a problem regarding the expenditures existed, they would discuss the matter in private, not with an audience. He gave his attention back to Spellman.

  "Have I the means to pay for them?" He knew

  Spellman had answered the question earlier, but he thought it bore repeating. He knew the answer, but was making certain that Spellman knew it as well. It was a habit, from the days when he taught lessons at the Haywood School for Boys—determining someone's knowledge by testing.

  "Yes, my lord. You are quite well-off, but you will not remain so—"

  "Then, pay the accounts when they come due, Mr. Spellman."

  Spellman folded his hands on top of the papers. "I had every intention of doing so. But I think it would behoove you to set a limit on how much the countess can spend yearly, if you are so inclined to allow her to spend at all."

  "The countess has already stated that she is purchasing necessary items. One does not limit necessary purchases."

  "But two dozen dresses—"

  Silencing Spellman with a practiced, hardened gaze that had never failed to bring under control a roomful of unruly boys, Arch slowly unfolded his body and came to his feet. "It is not your place to question the countess or her purchases. Nor should you be running about London looking into her activities. You are simply to pay the bills that come your way and send me an accounting. If you are unable to manage that task, then I shall find someone else to handle the affairs of this estate."

  Spellman stood, a visible shudder running through his body as though he were attempting to unruffle his own feathers.

  "The previous earl understood that a woman must be given boundaries, or she will take advantage and lead a man to ruin. I advise you to take the reins and limit her spending."

  "Why?"

  "Why? Because, my lord, she spends frivolously."

  "Which I've already stated is none of your concern."

  "But it is my responsibility to advise you so that mistakes may be avoided."

  "And I appreciate your advice when it pertains to business or the running of the estates. Where the countess is concerned, however, I keep my own counsel, and you would do well to remember that if you wish to remain in my employ."

  Leaving the papers where they rested, Spellman picked up his satchel. "Very well, my lord. You won't be the first to have been brought down by a woman."

  "Mr. Spellman, I am not too proud to admit when I have made an error in judgment. However, I have carefully reviewed my financial status, and I do not see any cause for alarm. I know you had the best intentions, and I do appreciate your bringing your concerns to my attention."

  "That is what I am paid to do, my lord. I bid you good day." He angled his head toward Camilla. "Countess."

  Spellman strode from the room. Arch didn't think the man was at all satisfied with the outcome of his visit, but then it wasn't Arch's goal to pl
ease his solicitor. He was more interested in pleasing Camilla. He turned to her.

  Her luscious lips were parted slightly, her brow knitted. She looked to be momentarily stunned, as though she could hardly believe what had transpired. Then, like someone wiping a slate clean, she blanked her expression.

  She rose from the chair, walked to the window, and gazed out on the garden. "I have always found Mr. Spellman to be a most unpleasant man. I thought you handled him admirably."

  Arch sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. Ah, yes, he'd handled the man admirably. But how best to handle the countess was something he had yet to ascertain.

  "I believe you have earned the right to spend the earl's money more so than I have."

  "You are more generous than he ever was. I had fully expected you to take the larger of his two London homes when you first arrived. Instead, you took the smaller residence. You are a constant source of amazement to me."

  "I could say the same of you."

  She shook her head as though she didn't wish to travel in the direction of his comment. "The old earl would have required an accounting and explanation for each purchase."

  "I am not the old earl."

  "So I am slowly coming to realize."

  Slowly? He wondered what he could do to hasten the process along. In spite of his best intentions not to do so, he rose, crossed over until he stood only a hairbreadth away from her, inhaled her sweet rose perfume, and said with a low voice, "I wish I had known you before he ever possessed you."

  Watching her delicate throat as she swallowed, he desperately wanted to press his lips against her fluttering pulse.

  "You would not have liked me," she whispered.

  "What was there not to like?"

  "I was ignorant… poor…"

  As though suddenly realizing that she was revealing too much, she managed to dart away from him without meeting his gaze. "I would die before I returned to the life of a commoner. I have established a place for myself among the Marlborough House Set and am in a position to achieve anything I want, and I want a good deal. While we search for a wife for you, I shall be searching for a duke for myself."

  "You say that as though the most important aspect to a man is his title."

  She arched a finely shaped eyebrow. "Because I believe that a man's title is all that matters."

  He shook his head in denial of her words. "You can't mean that. What of love?"

  "What of it? It has no power. It garners no attention when one walks into a ballroom. It doesn't provide servants, or fine clothes, or a large residence. It doesn't earn one favor with the queen. It doesn't keep you out of the street or the gutters. I have been a pauper, and I have been a countess. Now I seek to be a duchess. As such, I shall garner respect—"

  "You don't need a title to have respect."

  She scoffed. "How little you know. If it were possible, I would strive to be a queen. Then there would be no one more important than I."

  "If you were to search for love, rather than rank, then to one man there would be no one more important than you."

  "Spoken like a poet, rather than a realist."

  He was not a man usually prone to violence, but he thought he'd find great satisfaction in plowing a fist into the old earl's face, because he'd managed to strip Camilla of her ability to dream, and Arch thought that might have been the old Sachse's cruelest legacy. "You have never known the reality of being my countess."

  "And we both know that I never shall. Not that it matters. As I've said, I have goals. I shall help find you an agreeable wife, and in the process, I shall find myself a satisfactory duke."

  "You think a duke will make you suddenly fertile?"

  She blanched, and he regretted the harshness in his voice and the callousness of his words immediately. He didn't know why he'd been unable to prevent the anger from forcing them out of his mouth. "Camilla—"

  She sliced her hand through the air, effectively silencing his apology. "I am not stupid, Archie. I shall target a duke who already has an heir and a spare."

  "Which means he will no doubt be old."

  "And I shall be burdened with him for fewer years."

  "Why would you knowingly go into a marriage that you hoped would be brief?"

  "My dear Archie, obviously there are subtleties to the aristocracy that you have yet to fully comprehend. I require rank, and I shall pay whatever price I must to achieve it."

  What he did comprehend was that it angered him beyond all reason that she sought something that mattered so little.

  "When searching for a wife for me, do not apply your standards in acquiring a duke. I want a woman I cannot live without, a woman whose death would cause my heart to break."

  He stepped toward her. "I require a woman who makes me smile and causes me to laugh with abandon. A woman with whom I may be comfortable in silence, but whose voice will delight me and whose conversations will bring me joy. A woman who will stir my blood to the point of boiling. She must care deeply about all things and not shy away from revealing that she does so." Another step.

  "She will be compared to fire, not ice. She will embrace all that life has to offer, not hold it at bay. She will love me with every fiber of her being, hope for a thousand years to be held within my embrace, and mourn my passing as though she truly regrets that I am no longer by her side."

  "You have unrealistic expectations regarding a wife."

  "I know of a queen who loved her prince exactly like that."

  "I find that sort of love to be cruel. I think it better not to experience it. Then one never has to deal with the depth of loneliness and despair that comes from mourning so great a love."

  "But then one must also live with never knowing so great a passion."

  Before she could argue further or he could convince himself that he was making a terrible mistake, he took her within his arms and lowered his mouth to hers. She released a tiny, muffled squeak. Her arms were stiff, wedged between their bodies, but her lips were pliant, urging him on. But he had no desire to rush this moment that he'd waited months to experience.

  She'd taunted him with her constant nearness, her faint rose fragrance teasing his senses, her sultry voice whispering etiquette and protocol near his ear, her warm breath wafting along his chin and neck. He'd watched her eat countless meals, studied the way she ran her tongue over her lips as though she feared wasting a bit of sauce. He'd reveled in the dreaminess that came to rest within her eyes whenever he read to her—and had imagined the emotions flitting across her face were for him rather than the story.

  Slowly he deepened the kiss, exploring the confines of a mouth that was quick to issue a tart response with a voice cold enough to freeze water. But he found no chill. Only heat. Shimmering between them as their tongues welcomed the dance of seduction.

  He relished the taste of her. Sweet and so… salty. He became vaguely aware of the warmth pooling around his lips, seeping into the kiss. He drew back.

  Tears welled within her eyes, washed along her cheeks, gathered at the corners of her mouth. He'd never seen her appear so young, so vulnerable, so terrified.

  Her gaze dipped to his trousers, the tight cut revealing the unmistakable evidence that he'd not only desired her, but had been prepared to go well beyond a kiss. She was panting, trembling as though she could find no air to breathe.

  "Damn you, Archie, damn you!" she rasped.

  Before he could respond, she spun on her heel and dashed from the room. Frustration bit into him because he was hardly in a condition to give chase. And even if he were, what good would it do him?

  He turned to the desk, grabbed the inkwell, and flung it with all his might, sending it crashing through the window and into the garden. Grabbing the edge of the desk, he bowed his head.

  What in God's name had just happened?

  He'd never in his life lost control of himself, of his emotions, of his desires. And yet in the space of a heartbeat, he'd managed to do all three.

>   Worse yet, now that he had tasted the sweet nectar of her mouth, how in God's name could he ever forget that he had?

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  Camilla continued to tremble as her carriage clattered along the London streets. Whatever had possessed Archie to kiss her?

  Certainly she'd sensed a spark of anger in him as he'd rattled off his expectations for a wife, but it was the passion in his voice that had held her mesmerized. His words had seemed to flow from his heart, as though he truly believed that love such as he'd described not only existed, but should be available to him. His determination to possess it left no doubt that one day he would. A man who cared so deeply about love was a rare occurrence, and she found herself envying the woman he'd take as his wife.

  But why had he placed his mouth against hers after speaking about great love and great passion when she was a stranger to both? What had she done to give any indication that she would welcome his advances when she tried so hard to keep a wall in place so he wouldn't realize that she was fascinated by him?

  There had been no love lost between her and her husband. And there most certainly had been no passion. He'd acted as though he could barely tolerate being between her legs, and she'd certainly never enjoyed his presence there. Often the pain had been unbearable, but she'd stoically endured it because not to do so resulted in worse consequences. She'd learned the hard way that displeasing him in the least was to be avoided at all costs.

  Shuddering with thoughts of her late husband, she shoved them back into the corner of her mind where nightmares dwelled and concentrated instead on the present earl and the flavor of his kiss. He tasted of mint. Or perhaps she'd only imagined that he did. She could barely remember the specifics. Only that his arms had been like taut rope, not flabby like her husband's, which had always reminded her of bread soaked in milk. She should have been frightened by the strength she felt within Archie. But she wasn't. From him, she felt no threat of physical harm. But the harm to her heart?

  She dared not contemplate the possibilities there. Because they did exist.