The Redemption of a Dissolute Earl (9 page)

“No.” She yanked her arm free. “I’m mad
because I know you share in your cousin’s belief that you are
better than me, deserve more than me, simply because you were
highborn.”

“I do not share Edgeworth’s beliefs.”

“Ha!” She whirled away and almost ran into
her gaping coachman. “Excuse me, Mr. Perkins.”

Drew stomped up the stairs after her and
reached for her arm once again. His fingers grazed the material of
her dress. Whirling around, she served him a severe glare. “You’re
touching me! Can you not keep even
one
promise you
make?”

He swallowed and dropped his hand, fully
expecting her to take flight.

She surprised him by not moving. They stared
at each other, breaths coming out in puffs of white into the
darkness while snowflakes fell between them. The stairs creaked as
Mr. Perkins crept as far away as possible without actually leaving
Char alone. Drew immediately changed his opinion of the man. He
liked anyone who had the decency to give him some leeway but
refused to abandon his first loyalty to his mistress.

Watching the white flakes fall on Char’s
pale skin made it almost painful for Drew not to touch her. The
desire pulsed from his heart all the way to the tips of his
fingers. He’d keep his bloody promise though―even if it killed him.
“Please, Char. Hold my past sins against me all you want, but don’t
hold me accountable for things I no longer believe.”

She licked her lips, her tongue melting a
snowflake that had landed on her upper lip. “That’s fair.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Give me a
chance to show you I’ve changed.”

“No.”

Her answer was so final, so definite. Yet he
couldn’t help but hope. He knew her. It wasn’t in her nature not to
give someone a second chance. “I have changed,” he persisted.
“You’ll see.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to see. If
you think you can’t keep your promise, I’ll find another coach to
take me to Danby tomorrow.”

Before Drew could reply, heavy footsteps
clomped up the stairs behind him and a hand slapped him smartly on
the back. “I hate to interrupt you two, but it’s bloody cold out
here.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at Edgeworth.
“You’re not interrupting anything,
Lord
Edgeworth.”

“Miss Milne, clearly you are an expert at
staying angry.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Charlotte hedged.

“Excellent. A crack in your ferociously
righteous armor.”

“Edgeworth,” Drew warned. Why was his cousin
purposely trying to get under Charlotte’s skin?

“Righteous?” Charlotte sputtered.

Edgeworth shrugged. “A bit. Though, while I
do admit I deserve your anger, my cousin
does not
.”

Drew’s irritation with Edgeworth’s earlier
blunder vanished.

“Fine. He’s forgiven for
your
earlier
comments. Now can we go in before we all freeze to death?”

Edgeworth swept his hand in front of him.
“After you, my lady.”

Charlotte walked ahead as Drew and Edgeworth
walked side by side. Drew nudged his cousin in the arm.
Thank
you
, he mouthed.

As Charlotte stepped through the door into
the bustling inn, Edgeworth leaned towards Drew. “I heartily
approve of Miss Milne. Don’t mess this up.”

“I don’t intend to,” Drew replied.

“Good. And, Drew…”

“Yes?”

Edgeworth gave Drew a cheeky grin. “When
you’re dirt poor, you may still call me cousin.”

“How charitable of you,” Drew said with a
chuckle and the firm realization that the prospect of being poor
did not scare him at all.

After a hot meal―where she insisted Lord
Edgeworth sit between her and Drew―and a freezing cold sponge bath,
Charlotte crawled into her bed and pulled the covers up to the tip
of her chin. Even dressed in her thickest winter bed-gown and
snuggled under the heavy coverlet, her teeth still chattered from
the cold. The room held a definite chill, but at least she had a
place to lay her head.

A reluctant smile pulled at her lips. She
could still see Lord Edgeworth’s astonished face when Drew had
refused to tell the innkeeper they were the Duke of Danby’s
grandchildren and had threatened Lord Edgeworth with bodily harm if
he did so. She had to admit that she had also been astonished that
Drew had kept his promise. Especially since Drew’s denial of his
rightful title meant he and Lord Edgeworth received no special
treatment and therefore no bed.

Charlotte turned over and fluffed her
pillow. The small tingle of satisfaction she had experienced
earlier when she realized that Drew would spend his night sitting
in a cold, drafty tap room without even a blanket or pillow had
disappeared. When the innkeeper had told them there were no spare
blankets or pillows to be had, Charlotte had gleefully given all
the blankets in the carriage to Perkins and Lord Edgeworth’s
coachman to use. A petty sense of vengeance had spurred her to do
it. Now, though…She groaned at the guilt setting in. In the quiet
darkness of her room with her anger ebbed, she felt churlish and
mean to deny Drew and Lord Edgeworth the most basic comforts. She
fingered the soft, fuzzy blanket next to her body.

Decision made, she sighed, threw back the
covers and rolled off the bed. After exchanging her robe for her
travelling gown, she shoved her feet into her slippers, grabbed the
extra pillow on her bed and pulled on the top coverlet until it
released. She rolled the coverlet around her arm to make carrying
it easier. But the softest blanket she would keep for herself.

Though she had tried to forget Drew’s claim
that he was now more than willing to give up everything for her, it
lingered in her head as she padded down the hall towards the
stairs. She would probably find him downstairs, miserable and cold,
and bandying his title about in order to now attain a room. She
hoped she would find him thus. Then she would know for certain he
was still exactly the same person he had been and not some new
Drew, a reliable Drew, a Drew who would give up everything for her
just as she would have given up everything for him. Perhaps she
wouldn’t find him at all because he was already ensconced in the
best room under the warmest blanket. That was the most likely
scenario.

“Silly fool!” she muttered as she entered
the common room. Quickly scanning the faces, she spotted Lord
Edgeworth at a table with a serving wench sitting on his lap and a
mug of ale raised to his lips. The woman pressed her lips to Lord
Edgeworth’s neck, and his hand slid discreetly underneath her
apron. Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat as memories of
Drew’s lips and hands on her flaming body flooded through her.

Determined to quickly find Drew, give him
the blanket and pillow and make haste back to the safety of her
room, she weaved through two families sprawled near the fireplace
and made her way around the outskirts of the tables where several
people sat drinking and conversing, but she didn’t see Drew.

She turned to make her way back towards Lord
Edgeworth, but Drew’s cousin appeared ready to quit the room, and
it seemed he had found a morsel to take with him. He had the
serving girl’s hand clasped in his. A heaviness settled in
Charlotte’s chest. Had Drew also found a willing woman to welcome
him into her bed? Propelled by dreadful curiosity, Charlotte flew
across the room as Lord Edgeworth made his way towards the stairs.
Huffing, she reached him just as his hand touched the stairwell
banister.

“Lord Edgeworth.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Miss
Milne, what are you doing down here? Is something wrong?”

“I—” She shifted from foot to foot, suddenly
extremely embarrassed to ask where Drew was. She shouldn’t care.
She shouldn’t want to know. Her fingers curled tightly around the
blanket and pillow in her arms. It hadn’t been two days since she’d
encountered Drew, and already she felt like the foolish girl who
had given her heart and innocence so willingly to him, only to have
her heart crushed underneath his expensive boot. No doubt Drew
didn’t need or want her pitiful offering of a blanket and
pillow.

She shook her head, her throat clogging with
tears. “Nothing’s wrong. I—” She cleared the tremor out of her
throat and shoved the blanket and pillow towards Lord Edgeworth. “I
thought you might have need of these.”

Before he could respond, she released the
blankets and pushed past him, determined to reach the privacy of
her room before the tears came. She ascended three stairs before a
hand gripped her arm. “Miss Milne?”

She swiped her hand across her moist eyes
before facing Lord Edgeworth. “Yes?”

Lord Edgeworth extended the blanket and
pillow towards her. “I’ve no need of this kindness.” Lord
Edgeworth’s gaze went to the woman beside him but quickly came back
to Charlotte’s face. “I’m sure Drew would appreciate it,
though.”

Charlotte gulped as hope filled her. “Drew’s
not—I meant to say he hasn’t—?” Heat flooded her face, and her gaze
settled on Lord Edgeworth’s rather irritated looking companion
before Charlotte quickly averted it back to Drew’s cousin.

A small smile lit his face, and he shook his
head. “No, Drew’s alone in the taproom.”

“He is?” Charlotte couldn’t keep the burst
of happiness that filled her out of her voice.

Lord Edgeworth nodded. “He said he wanted to
be alone to think. Do you know what I believe, Miss Milne?”

“What?” she asked, before she could think
better of it.

“You should go to him. You do not seem the
type of person to believe no one can ever change.”

Normally she wasn’t, except that’s exactly
how she was being with Drew. She caught Lord Edgeworth
surreptitiously studying her as she pondered what to do. She could
go and give Drew a pillow and blanket. Certainly, that didn’t mean
she’d fall on her back and allow him to seduce her again.

“Pondering my suggestion, Miss Milne?”

She nodded.

“Scat.” Lord Edgeworth actually waved her
away. “It’s not as if Drew is going to ravish you in the taproom,
and I feel certain you can scream quite loudly when needed.”

There was something in Lord Edgeworth’s eyes
she had never seen before, or maybe she had simply never bothered
to notice. Perhaps she had been a bit of a snob too. Assuming all
lords were the same. “And who would come to the rescue of an
actress against a lord? Not that Drew would ever force himself on
me. I don’t mean to imply that.”

Lord Edgeworth stepped onto the stair
directly below her and motioned her forward. She leaned down until
their heads were side by side. “I would come to your rescue, Miss
Milne. You may always count on me.”

Charlotte pulled back just a bit and met his
gaze. “As a friend?” She did not assume he wanted more. She prayed
he didn’t, but in her experience men only offered to help a woman
when they wanted something in return―something of the intimate
variety.

“Nothing more. Not even if you begged me.
Drew loves you, you know.”

That little spark of hope she had thought
she’d successfully stamped out flared within her chest once again.
She refused to allow hope where she knew none existed. Drew may
love her, but not enough to give up his money. He’d proven that.
His words now meant nothing. Deciding that ignoring Lord
Edgeworth’s comment was her best recourse, she said, “If I didn’t
know better, I’d say you’re a romantic.”

“Ah, you think you know me?”

Charlotte studied Lord Edgeworth. She knew
he never took the same lady anywhere twice. She knew that when they
had been younger he had followed the groomsman’s daughter,
Katherine, around like a puppy dog, but then the girl had surprised
everyone by becoming betrothed to the decrepit Duke of Vischase.
That betrothal had made Charlotte stupidly believe she too could
cross over the class boundary that divided her from the
ton
.

“I don’t know you,” Charlotte finally said.
And she didn’t, not really. She’d judged him a rake and dismissed
him. Perhaps Lord Edgeworth had been in love with Katherine. A
memory filled Charlotte’s mind of seeing Katherine and he sitting
close together in Lord Danby’s moonlit garden. Charlotte had
completely forgotten that.

She reached out and squeezed Lord
Edgeworth’s hand. “Thank you for your offer of friendship. I gladly
accept it.”

“Good luck, Miss Milne. I’ll see you in the
morning.”

She nodded, moved past Drew’s cousin and his
now glowering companion, and hurried down the stairs, through the
common room, and down a short hall that led to the taproom.

True to Lord Edgeworth’s word, Drew sat at a
table by himself, his only company the roaring fire that crackled
in the quiet room. His back was to her, but she immediately
recognized him with his sinfully thick, blond hair. Her fingers
twitched in memory of just how silky those curls felt when she
grasped him to pull him closer.