The Earl Takes All by Lorraine Heath Page B

we go to London for the Season will be soon enough I think.”
    With a gentle nod, she gave him a soft smile. Why did she have to be so blasted understanding? “I’m going to the library for an after-­dinner drink,” he told her.
    â€œI’ll come with.”
    Not what he wanted. He needed some time alone to regain his balance. “But you’re not drinking.”
    â€œI know you like to use the time after dinner for quiet reflection. I’ll read.” Her hand had yet to leave his, and she gave it a tender squeeze. “I’ve had far too many nights without you of late. I promise not to intrude.”
    How could she not intrude, he wondered, when they were sitting in opposite chairs before the fireplace in the library, he with his scotch—­half the amount he would have poured had she not been there—­and she with Wuthering Heights ? While he stared at the low flames sending out their warmth, he inhaled her rose fragrance, heard her quiet breathing. He was quite simply so aware of her presence that she might as well be sitting on his lap. Not that she’d be reading if that were so. He’d have his lips on hers, his hands gliding over her back and shoulders. His fingers would unfasten the back of her gown, peel it down until—­
    â€œI think you should record your reflections.”
    With horror that his errant thoughts might have been revealed on his face, he jerked his attention to her, relieved to discover her watching him with an incredibly serene expression. No suspicions. “Pardon?”
    â€œYou mentioned earlier about all the history that was lost when your parents passed. While memories of Edward are still clear, I think you should write what you remember as a legacy to your heir and all who follow. Otherwise, how will they ever know him?”
    â€œI’m not certain they need to know him.”
    â€œI realize he was a bit of a rapscallion, but based on the stories he told, he led a fascinating life.”
    â€œHe embellished.”
    â€œYou say that as though it is a bad thing.”
    â€œAnother word for embellished is lied.”
    She held up her book. “All stories are lies, but there is always a thread of truth in them.”
    â€œYou are the last person I expected to be his champion.” She had him kicked out of the London residence, for Christ’s sake. It was the reason he had his own residence in London. Although he had to admit she’d done him a favor, as he preferred having his own place, being able to do what he wanted when he wanted.
    â€œI’m not serving as his champion, but I do think your son should know him. You should write down all you remember while it’s still fresh in your mind. Memories fade, even though we think they won’t. There are times when I can barely remember what my parents looked like.”
    â€œPerhaps you’re right. I should record what I remember about him. Maybe you can add your memories. Reveal what really happened that night I caught the two of you in the garden.”
    She blinked, but held his gaze. “I told you. We were discussing the trip.” She tilted her head to the side. “What did you think happened?”
    Taking a sip of scotch, he considered, then said, “I thought perhaps he’d kissed you.”
    Her expression changed not one iota. Her gaze remained latched on his. “Why would I allow him to be the first man to kiss me when that honor was yours?”
    She might as well have picked up the poker and hurled it through his chest. She’d never kissed anyone before him? Had never before had a tryst in the garden with Albert? Albert had been courting her for weeks. Edward had assumed his brother had taken advantage, that Julia had encouraged him—­
    But no. Their relationship had been chaste. Not even a kiss exchanged before that night. Little wonder she detested him. From her, he’d stolen what she’d