West End Earl by Bethany Bennett

Chapter Thirteen

Having Phee at his breakfast table might be the best part of his day. Even when he’d thought of her as Adam, there’d been a satisfaction in feeding his friend. Today’s bit of primal gloating had nothing to do with charity and everything to do with having the woman who dominated his thoughts under his roof. Not in his bed—although after last night, he had high hopes—but in his home. Available to talk to, accessible enough to barge into his room at all hours.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who barged into his room. The conversation with Kingston had centered around discretion and privacy. It had been more difficult than expected to protect Phee’s secret. Kingston thought she was a man, which meant everything now depended on his valet having the character to keep his mouth shut about the Earl of Carlyle’s sexual proclivities. If word got out, this was something that could destroy Cal—and by extension, Emma—more effectively than anything his father had ever done.

Yet he couldn’t regret the risk as she sat drinking coffee with adorably blurry eyes, blinking her way into facing the day. The breakfast room doors were closed, and they were alone. So with ears alert for the sound of footsteps in the hall, Cal stopped beside her chair and quickly kissed the spot of skin between her linen cravat and the red curls behind her ear. A shiver rippled over her and he nearly smiled.

Except something wasn’t right. He sniffed the side of her neck, this time without romantic intent. “You smell wrong. And you’re wearing the same clothes. Again.” He reared back, questioning with a tilt of his head.

She shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. “The thieves stole my scent. Until I can get everything altered, these are my only clothes. The maids have been wonderful about laundering them, though. Your staff is exceptional.”

Cal slumped into the seat beside her. Here he was worrying about reputations and lusting after her, while Phee wore the same clothes each day because she had nothing and her life was in danger. “Well, damn. I should have realized. How can I help?”

The gold slivers in her blue eyes were particularly bright in the morning, especially when she smiled at self-absorbed earls. “I’m fine for now. It might be a few days until I get everything altered, but I should have some pieces finished by tonight. I didn’t buy evening clothes, so it’s a blessing my social calendar is nonexistent.”

Cal shifted in his seat, then rose to peruse the offerings on the sideboard. “About that. You need evening clothes. I have to throw a house party at Lakeview. It gets us away from your uncle, and I have one more debutante to marry off, thanks to my father. Miss Cuthbert needs a husband.”

A pause. “Why is Violet Cuthbert still your problem?”

He winced and added another slice of bacon to his plate, then resumed his seat. “It’s just the latest in a long line of Eastly’s problems I have to fix. I’ll handle it, I promise.” He picked up her hand and kissed the top of her fingers, then released her so they could eat.

“That’s the second time you’ve said that in less than twelve hours.”

A dull thud started at his temple. “Miss Cuthbert and I agree that our fathers’ bet was a terrible idea. So I’ll find her another husband. Easy solution.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Do you have a list of potential bachelors?”

There was his practical friend. “Yes. I’m also hoping one of them will turn Emma’s head. Marry off both debutantes, hide you from your murderous uncle, and we can all live happily ever after. Our life sounds like a stage farce.” Cal tried to grab an abandoned piece of bacon from her plate, but she swatted at his fingers testily.

“And I need an evening coat for this?” She knit her brows in skepticism.

“Unless you want to confess to everyone that you’re a woman, yes. But in that event, you’ll need a gown. You would look lovely in green or copper.”

Phee rubbed a palm over her face. “Fine. I’ll find something.” She grimaced and said, “Damn, I forgot. I meant to tell you yesterday. I have more Emma news.”

Alarms went off in his head, and he suddenly wished he could retreat to bed for a day or two. Preferably with Phee. “What’s she done now?”

“She’s been sneaking out during the day. I can’t be sure she’s meeting Roxbury, but it makes sense. I found out yesterday. I’m sorry, I meant to say something but then got distracted, and—”

Cal groaned and tilted back in his chair to stare at the swirls in the ceiling plaster. “The women in my life are destroying my sanity. One by one, you ladies will be the death of me.” He shot her a glance, but she ignored his theatrics.

Midchew, she paused and looked at him. “What? I hope you weren’t anticipating sympathy. I’m waiting for you to finish whining. Drink another cup of coffee. Everything looks better after coffee.”

*  *  *

Given her need to stay out of sight, Phee had plenty of time to assemble a guest list, send invitations, and coordinate with the staff in place at Lakeview. At least it gave her something to do besides sew and stew over the situation with Miss Cuthbert.

Fortunately, an invitation from Lord Calvin Carlyle was a rare and precious commodity, and this one coincided with the highest temperatures of summer. No one in their right mind wanted to stay in the stench of London during the hot months, but with Parliament still in session and not likely to break anytime soon, people were jumping at any excuse to escape to the country. Even for an event that was essentially a game where the grand prize happened to be a pair of blond debutantes with questionable taste in men.

She remembered feeling an affinity for Miss Cuthbert at Vauxhall. But the way Calvin’s father and hers had winked and nudged their way through the introductions, fully expecting Cal to fall at the little blonde’s feet, sparked useless flames of jealousy now.

Phee shrugged off the unpleasant feeling. Cal had promised he had it handled, and she believed him. The jealousy was one more indication that it was too late to keep her heart from getting deeply involved in this budding romance between Cal and herself. She didn’t know what to do about that. Before now, they’d been close friends. Hell, he was her best friend. It stood to reason that if their feelings turned romantic, they wouldn’t be lukewarm. Their newfound attraction for one another seemed as deep as their friendly affection had been. Unfortunately, that meant there was more at stake if everything went sideways. She’d lose a friend and a potential lover—and just when she was getting used to the idea of wanting a lover.

Two years of daydreaming about Cal was one thing. Getting pulled into empty rooms and kissed senseless by the man was another beast altogether. He showed affection unreservedly, but each time he kissed her, she worried they’d be caught. She worried that her feelings were barreling past friendship and into love.

They’d shared countless stolen kisses and frantic touches. The taste of him and the sound of his voice, rough with desire, had been imprinted in her mind forever. But for every stolen moment, there was an interruption or an obligation pulling him away. While she was stuck hiding in this posh town house, Emma’s social schedule whirled on, and Cal needed to be there for it. Given Emma’s recent choices, Cal was on high alert.

Not that it would make much difference in the end. Emma would make whatever bullheaded and ill-advised decisions she wanted, with little regard for anyone else.

Every day, worry lines dug their way around Cal’s mouth. It was hard not to feel guilty when fear for her safety because of Milton only added to his burden. Yet the opportunities to remove some of that load were few and far between.

Two nights ago, Cal had fallen asleep beside her in bed. She’d been a heavy sleeper all her life, and now she cursed that fact. Even the presence of a man in her bed wasn’t enough to wake her. So they’d slept.

When she awoke cradled against his shoulder—his bare, warm, smooth shoulder—disorientation made her jerk before her brain caught up with the situation. Kingston’s knock at the door interrupted Cal reaching for her. The valet hadn’t looked at her when he reported that there’d been an attempted break-in overnight. The kitchen door had sustained damage, and the servants were all aflutter.

Cal didn’t visit her last night. However, Kingston sent Jenny the maid to her room this morning with a freshly starched cravat. Phee took that as a sign that the valet would keep what he’d seen to himself. She ran a finger over the smooth linen around her throat. The man worked miracles with cloth and starch.

A knock on the library door interrupted her musings. “Enter.”

Nelson slipped into the room. He held out a slip of paper. “A message arrived for you, Mr. Hardwick. One of the neighborhood kids dropped it off. I told them you weren’t here but I’d pass it along if I found out where you were.”

Phee took the paper and read the uneven pencil scrawl. No boat news. “Thank you, Nelson.” The lad lingered instead of leaving, so she cocked her head. “Is there anything else?”

“Is his lordship here?”

“No. Would you like me to relay a message?”

“I’m not sure.” Nelson seemed quite young as he twitched in his livery and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Phee set aside the note. “Nelson, does this have anything to do with my uncle? Do you have information to share?”

His shoulders slumped on an exhale, and he nodded. “The break-in the other night? That was a test run. I didn’t know about it, or I’d have said something, I swear. The boys are comin’ back tonight. They have orders—ugly ones. Your uncle wants to collect on that insurance something fierce, Mr. Hardwick. They know Lord Carlyle is hiding you. I’m supposed to let them in the servants’ entrance and clear a path to your room. I don’t know what to do.”

Icy dread settled in Phee’s belly. Of course Milton realized she was here. With the right ears listening on the right corners, he’d know Adam Hardwick to be a particular friend of Lord Calvin Carlyle, in addition to an employee of the house. The dirty paper on the desk with news of the Wilhelmina was proof that several people in London knew where to reach Adam.

“Thank you for telling me.” The thud of her heartbeat pulsed in her ears, but remembering one thing calmed her: Calvin’s resources outmatched Milton’s, no matter how much her uncle had stolen from her inheritance. “Tonight, you say?”

Nelson nodded. “Midnight.”

“When Lord Carlyle gets home, let’s determine a plan. Thank you for warning me. You just saved my life.” She offered her hand. Nelson’s was warm and clammy. Phee smiled, trying to reassure him without words that he’d done the right thing. “We will talk soon. Until then, resume your duties.”

A half hour later, Cal strolled in from his ride with Ethan. When he entered the library, she looked up from her work in time to see his face light as he caught sight of her at her desk. Try as she might, the greeting she offered didn’t feel true. The smile slipped from his face, and those grooves around his mouth deepened. “What’s wrong?”

“Nelson was here. Milton ordered an attack for tonight. The orders are to bring them to my room. At least they’re planning to kill me themselves and don’t expect Nelson to do it.” She bit the sentences off, knowing with each statement she snatched away the fragile feeling of safety they’d been enjoying. It pained her to watch the happy glow seep out of him. As if she’d personally stolen his joy.

“You need to leave for Lakeview,” he said. “They can’t hurt you if you’re not here.”

“And abandon you to deal with them? What if you’re injured instead?” Milton was ruthless and proving to be more so with every piece of news they received.

Cal gently cupped her face. She liked it when he did that, when he showed her with his body that she was his sole focus in that moment—nothing else mattered but them. The chocolate depths of his eyes, rimmed by inky lashes, anchored her, replacing the twist of emotions hammering inside her chest with a calm that grew with every breath. “I could not live with myself if they hurt you again. Not when I knew the attack was coming. Please, Ophelia.” He placed a tender kiss at the corner of her eye, then her cheekbone, then the corner of her mouth. “Think of it as traveling ahead to finalize house-party details.”

“It’s two weeks early.”

“Then I’ll follow in a day or so, and we will have two blessed weeks alone. Just the two of us, endless acres of wood paths to wander, and so many rooms to steal kisses in, your head will spin. And if I’m lucky, a very large bed you’ll consider letting me into.”

Phee arched a brow but turned to kiss his palm. “Fine, I’ll go. You should talk to Nelson. I think he needs some reassurance. I’ll be upstairs packing. Oh, and this arrived.” She slid the slip of paper across the desk to him. “The Wilhelmina remains a mystery. No new information from Frankie. I can go poke around before I leave for Lakeview. One more trip to the waterfront won’t hurt. Frankie and the kids might not be talking to the right people, so who knows—”

Cal interrupted her with a hard kiss. “The Wilhelmina isn’t as important as your safety.”

Phee grumbled, “I’d rather feel useful than hide. But I suppose you’re right. I’ll go pack.”

“I’ll join you as soon as I’ve spoken with Nelson.”

In her room, she gathered her meager wardrobe, then folded everything neatly on the bed with her sewing kit atop the pile.

The maid arrived with a small traveling trunk for her things. “His lordship sent this up. Said you’re leaving us today, Mr. Hardwick?”

“Yes, for a little while. Thank you, Jenny.”

Phee sank to the edge of the mattress. Fretting over Milton was useless, so she’d worry about Lakeview instead. She was flexible like that. Phee chuckled to herself at the dark humor.

The picture Cal had painted of their next two weeks at his country house sounded idyllic. They’d have so much more privacy. Fewer interruptions. Less need to hide, with an entire estate to wander, far from prying eyes. While she was eager to take their kisses further, doubt slithered in, marring the anticipation.

Being Adam had become comfortable, and leaving that behind, even in private with only Cal, was a big step. She stood and tried to view herself with fresh eyes in the tall oval looking glass.

It had been years since she’d seen herself like this—all at once in a mirror, instead of the reflection of a shop window. Phee canted her head. Did she even look like Adam? He might have filled out. Men often did as they aged. Perhaps by now, they wouldn’t have been so alike.

In fact, she’d been terrified of getting older. The boys at school spoke of girls getting breasts, as if their chests had magically appeared one day. She’d checked each morning, in case a bosom had attached itself to her while she slept, thus destroying her disguise. Breasts never came, and eventually she stopped waiting for them. Her body was her body, and there was no changing it. The idea of sharing it, though, gave her mixed emotions. Sex with Cal? Yes, please. Cal seeing her naked? Nerve-racking.

With the practice of someone who’d moved far too many times in her adult life, Phee packed her few possessions into the trunk with efficient movements, securing her sewing kit inside a satin pocket in the lining, along with the miniature of her parents. Against the dark-brown leather of the luggage, her hands were pale, scarred, and calloused. Beneath her male clothing, her muscles had lines and dips, honed by hours of fencing and living a life of work instead of leisure. She’d used those muscles this morning in a match with Cal—which he’d nearly won, because she got distracted by the clear desire on his face while they fenced. How remarkable that crossing swords with her seemed to make him want her more.

No, she might not be a fainting violet, but her body served her well.

Violet. Phee scrunched her face. Jealousy did her no favors.

There were more important things to worry about. She snapped the latch of the trunk closed with more force than needed.

Cal had asked her to trust him to deal with Violet Cuthbert, and it certainly hadn’t been Violet’s bed he’d slept in the other night, or Violet’s bed he’d share at Lakeview. Now that he’d brought that up, the thought wouldn’t leave her head. Not that she minded. Imagining them in bed was a pleasant thing to obsess over, especially given the other options.

But so much of it was beyond her control. Letting Cal swoop in and save the day felt odd, and hiding inside this house instead of earning her keep felt even odder. Her hands clenched and released at her sides, over and over, so she sat beside the window with her bird carving. The details were coming together now, and gouging out grooves of feathers gave her hands something to do.

“You really do have the strangest hobbies.” Cal’s voice came from the doorway. Phee glanced up with a smile.

“What are you making?” He pushed off the doorway and closed the door behind him.

“I thought I’d try something different.” She held up the piece, with its open wings and sturdy little wood body. “Is everything settled with Nelson?” With the tip of her blade she followed a line down the wood, then tilted her head, examining it from the side.

“It’s beautiful. Why a bird?”

Phee shrugged a bit sheepishly. “Because I wanted to fly away.”

Cal reached out, and she handed the piece to him. Tracing the detailed wings, he said, “What about now? Do you still want to fly away?”

“Sometimes. Less so in the last few days. Don’t take it personally. I’ve been running a lot longer than I’ve been staying with you.”

“Or kissing me.” He said it casually, but she heard the underlying question as he returned the carving.

Phee nodded. “Kissing you changed things, yes. And if we share a bed at Lakeview, it will change things even more. We should probably talk about what comes next.”

Cal squatted in front of her chair and ran his long-fingered hands over her thighs in a casual caress that sent her blood humming. “I want a relationship, Phee. I hope you do too. You’re right. We should talk.”

She set aside the penknife and bird, then tucked an escaped piece of hair behind his ear. “How is this going to work, Cal? I’ve been to too many events as Adam to suddenly don a dress and fool everyone. And I can’t live openly as a woman until the end of the year—assuming I live that long. We’d be sneaking around for months if we take this beyond Lakeview.”

“You’ve been by my side nearly every day for two years. We’re friends, and I hope lovers. Let’s deal with issues as they come, working together like we always have.”

She kissed the corner of his mouth, where late-day bristles were rough under her lips. “Together, then. In every way. But it will be my first time, and I expect us to take measures to avoid pregnancy. I’m already on the run from a murderous uncle—we don’t need to add an unexpected baby and turn all this into a melodrama.”

He settled on his heels but kept his hands on her thighs. “With half siblings scattered throughout the country, and probably the Continent, I have always worried about pregnancy. So I appreciate you wanting to take measures.”

She bit her lip, and his gaze focused on her mouth. Talking about being in bed with him had her ready to strip down and dive under the covers. “I wish I wasn’t leaving. I wish we could climb in that bed over there and stay for days. I missed you last night.” She caressed the skin above his cravat and felt his rough swallow under her touch.

“We hadn’t spoken about sharing a bed, and when Kingston woke us, I realized I might have overstepped. And trust me, Phee, I wish you weren’t going anywhere.” Although his expression was hot, his hand was gentle as he traced a line from her cheekbone down to her mouth.

She blinked slowly, clearing some of the scrambling effect that look had on her. “Unless you hid everything from me, you haven’t taken a lover in a while. Why me? Why us?”

The look he gave her would have melted her petticoats had she been wearing any. As it was, her skin tingled within her breeches. “Because it’s you. Because you’re in my blood, and I don’t ever want you to leave. And because for the first time, I see my future sitting right in front of me.” He leaned back with a comical wince. “But there’s something we have to fix first.” Reaching into his pocket, Cal withdrew a small bottle.

The sound she made was somewhere between a coo and a gasp at the sight of the familiar label. The small bottle of sandalwood scent was an expense she’d agonized over until finally justifying it as a onetime indulgence. Phee turned her chin to the side so he could dab a little behind her ears. “Thank you. It’s a rather masculine scent, but I love it.”

Cal nuzzled her neck. “Masculine, feminine—doesn’t matter. It’s your scent. And that’s the important thing.” He sighed against her skin. “Now you smell right.”

“Come to my bed at Lakeview,” she breathed as he nibbled a line along her jaw.

“The second I arrive. I promise. But first we need to get you out of here and safe.”