Meet the Earl at Midnight by Gina Conkle

Author:Gina Conkle
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2014-03-10T05:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

If you want to know the mind of a man,

listen to his words.

—Chinese Proverb

Loathsome quiet hung over the cavernous study, a pall as oppressive as a sudden death notice. Emotions jumbled through Lydia, but one of truth’s bitter pills surprised her: the earl was like every other man of her life’s acquaintance, who in the end, would leave. She harbored the heart of a realist. Men were driven to sate their lusts, be they of the flesh or selfish ambition.

And women of all types and relations were left scattered in their wake.

The earl, like other men she’d known, inveigled matters solely to meet his needs, drawing a woman close with a promising beginning, then left, or would leave, at his convenience. Well, Lord Greenwich hadn’t left yet, but his eyes, distant and shuttered, told her in some ways he was as good as gone.

Why did men have such difficulty staying?

“But you could die.” The countess wheezed as one hand braced the desk’s edge. “You cannot leave me.”

Lydia clutched the ends of her shawl low across her abdomen. A protective gesture? But the countess, the way she blanched under white powder, sharp, blinding pain writ years on her fine-boned features. Lydia couldn’t say she cared for the noblewoman, but the gut-wrenching news her son delivered just then would level any woman hanging onto her progeny by a thread. She had to act.

“My lady.” Lydia wrapped a comforting arm about the countess’s shoulders. “Come take a seat near the fire.”

The countess accepted her assistance as Lydia shot Lord Greenwich an incriminating glare, but his eyes stayed woefully blank. He rubbed his scarred cheek and watched Lydia coddle his mother, withdrawn from the displays of emotion. What? Did he think his mother wouldn’t be affected by this latest news? Men and their irritating bluntness. She settled the countess on the settee, and like a mother hen, sat near the older woman, fussing over her, pouring tepid tea that was refused.

The earl moved to the hearth and rolled a new log onto the waning blaze. He poked and prodded the fire to new life before he turned around to address the consequences of his words. Mr. Bacon, Lydia noticed, sat straight-faced and silent. The blighter probably knew all along what his lordship planned and was in on it. Thick as thieves, those two, and Lydia’s harsh stare swept accusingly from one to the other. Lord Greenwich was man enough to speak up first.

“Now you know why I need a wife and that she is…enceinte before I leave. I’m making every effort to protect the line, as well as the family coffers, if I fail to return. That was the nature of the promise I made to Father before he died, though he was especially concerned about financial arrangements.” His lordship tapped ash from the poker before replacing it on the stand. He clasped his hands behind his back and gave Lydia an apologetic grimace. “Forgive me. This is indelicate but necessary.”

“But you could die.” The countess, with her tear-glossed, red-rimmed eyes, repeated the words like an accusation.

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