6. Love Me

LOVE ME

“ R eally, Lydia? A gentleman?” The sarcasm in Jeremy’s voice echoed off the ornate walls of the suddenly empty foyer. “I knew you were na?ve, but…”

His gaze trailed down her person, and as he did so, the look in his eyes changed from one of derision to something else. They were alone again, and he was as aware of it as she was.

“It is possible.” She forced herself to remember what they were discussing. “As a ward of yours.”

She expected him to groan or adamantly deny anything of the sort.

“He’s to work for me, Lydia.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Ollie had disappeared with Mr. Hill. “And we’re not off to a very auspicious start.”

“He is learning,” she pointed out. “It is a beginning.”

“He’s a little pest.”

“He is a pest that you were worried about.” Lydia could do nothing to stop the satisfied smile that stretched her lips.

Jeremy stared at the floor, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “How old would you guess he is?”

The question surprised her. “Five? Six at the most?”

“He is nine, Lydia.” Jeremy pinned his gaze back on her. “At least, he thinks he is nine. He says he lost track of time after his mother disappeared but believes he was nearing his seventh birthday at the time.”

“But he’s so small.”

Jeremy’s eyes darkened. “He only eats what he finds in rubbish bins or what he can steal.”

Lydia and Clarissa had discussed this aspect of an orphan’s life before, the dangers they faced, the suffering they experienced. She ought to have realized Ollie was older than he looked.

“It’s good that we found him then,” she said. “That he’s with you now. I’m glad.”

Because, as horrifying as the reminder was, she also felt a sense of peace. Ollie was going to get proper meals now, and Jeremy did not look nearly as cold and cynical as he had just a few days before. Of course, he was still not the same as he once was; the tragedies of the past year had scarred him. But…

He was not uncaring.

And he had kissed her earlier today—he’d done it as though he couldn’t help himself. He’d been like a man starved.

Much the way she had felt.

Jeremy took a step closer, reached out, and brushed his fingertips along the fabric of her sleeve. The touch was light, almost absentminded, as his eyes trailed up from that point of contact until they locked onto her own. “How do you manage to look more beautiful each time I see you?”

Lydia sucked in a surprised breath. It was a strangely genuine question, not simple flattery, more like he was truly baffled by the phenomenon.

“Jeremy.” All she could do was say his name, but all of her feelings sounded in that single word. In that moment, the broken heart she’d lived with since that dreadful November day made itself known as actual physical pain. “What happened? Why do you hate us? Why do you hate me?”

He exhaled loudly, in such a way that she sensed the weight of the world crashing down on him.

“I don’t hate you, Lydia.” He blinked and turned to stare up at a rather large painting of one of her ancestors. But he wasn’t really looking at the painting.

“Then why?”

“I can’t tell you why.” His voice and his eyes hardened. “You don’t want to know. It wouldn’t be fair for me to tell you, nor would it be fair for… others involved.”

“My brothers?”

The muscles of his jaw twitched. “And others.”

She couldn’t help herself, she moved even closer to him until naught but a few inches separated them.

She stared down and grasped both of his hands in hers.

Jeremy’s hands were not soft. They never had been. Ever since he’d inherited his father’s title, she knew of multiple occasions when he’d taken the time to work in the fields with his tenants.

He may have been their landlord. They may have feared him a little, even. But they all respected him.

She grazed her fingertips over the callouses, which now sported ink stains.

Jeremy was not an idle person, nor was he a man who accumulated wealth for the sake of accumulating wealth. He seemed to be lost in his own frenzy, however. Raging against humanity in his grieving.

He did not resist her hold of his hand, but neither did he do anything to encourage her.

For Lydia, of course, this was encouragement enough.

Because this was Jeremy.

“I’ve missed you.” She’d wanted to tell him this since she first saw him in Lord Baxter’s office and especially while she’d been walking alone with him through the Wicked Earls’ Club.

He didn’t answer but turned his head away.

She raised one of her hands to trail the line of his jaw. “If you don’t hate me, then why…?”

He moved his head side to side, and then he turned to stare at her again. How many times had she gazed into the warmth of his mahogany gaze, feeling safe and protected—and so certain, somehow simply knowing that he was her destiny?

In that moment, she felt all of this… and more.

Kiss me, she begged him with her eyes. Heat that had once felt like flickering embers burst into a raging inferno.

She pressed up, onto her toes, and parted her lips.

Seeing confusion and indecision in his eyes, she closed her own and waited. She was not afraid that he would embarrass her. Perhaps she ought to be. But she’d also seen something else in his gaze.

She’d seen the same longing that must be reflected in her own.

On tiptoes, one hand cradling his cheek, the other now resting on his shoulder, she waited.

“Lydia.” The warmth of his breath fanned her lips. “Lydia.”

The temperature of her blood spiked, and a roaring sound filled her ears as it raced through her veins.

Oh, yes. A thousand times yes.

When his mouth touched hers, it seemed gentle, questioning; he seemed to be seeking permission.

And… forgiveness. He was not demanding, impatient, and passionate as he’d been earlier. This kiss was quiet—searching.

When he traced the seam along her lips with his tongue, he did not press inside until she parted her mouth and welcomed all that he would offer.

“Lydia.” A shudder ran through him.

Her arms snaked up his chest and encircled his neck, clutching onto him as though she’d been drowning for months and had finally found something to keep her afloat.

Locked in his embrace, sobs threatened to overflow, and her eyes burned with tears.

She pulled away, breaking the kiss, only their panting breaths between them. This was everything she wanted, but she did not understand.

“Jeremy.” Her throat caught. “Why did you hurt me so?” There must be some explanation.

He stilled, and she could almost see him warring with himself.

“What did I do wrong?” she persisted. Her heartache and confusion could not be contained, the question escaping unchecked. She had to know!

He cradled her face in his hands, conflicting emotions burning in his eyes. “I didn’t want to. You did nothing.” He stared at her mouth and then into her eyes again. “What am I going to do with you, Lydia?”

Love me! Love me! Love me!

These words, however, she kept to herself. He wasn’t ready. If she pushed too hard, she’d lose him forever.

But there had to be a way. Deep down, she knew with every fiber of her being that Jeremy loved her as much as she loved him. Anyone else would consider her na?ve to convince herself of this, but she didn’t care.

She simply knew this about him. I know him.

He reached up and, wrapping his fingers around her wrists, extracted himself from their embrace. Stepping back, he closed his eyes as though summoning strength.

Strength to resist her? Or his own urges? His own desires… and dreams?

“Work will begin in the warehouse tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll have contracts sent over for you to sign in the morning.”

She could only nod in response, and he took another step backward.

“Ollie is waiting for you,” she reminded him.

He sketched a quick bow and pivoted, his shoes echoing in the vast foyer as he strode toward the door.

He’d kissed her twice yesterday.

Not once, but twice, for God’s sake!

Jeremy leaned forward, urging the stallion he’d chosen to ride that morning faster as he raced along the nearly empty road that made up most of Rotten Row. Perhaps the speed could clear his head.

Zeus’s hooves ate up the ground all too quickly, sending the cool morning air rushing past his face and through his hair. When Jeremy drew the spirited animal to a halt, the horse protested, throwing back his head and rising momentarily onto his hind legs.

Precisely how Jeremy felt, if he was to be perfectly honest.

Zeus lowered his head with a disgruntled shake and then rose up a second time, but he failed to unseat his rider. Jeremy had been prepared for it, leaning forward and digging his heels into the horse’s sides.

The sound of another rider approaching had Jeremy grimacing until a familiar voice called out.

“Incredible animal!” Baxter was dressed in full morning attire, top hat in place, and riding a white mare who, although nearly as large and haughty as Zeus, was much better mannered.

“He needs work, but he certainly shows promise.” Jeremy rubbed his hand along Zeus’s slick, black neck as Baxter drew up alongside them.

“Necessary, I know, but I’m almost sorry to see the such a magnificent beast broken.”

Jeremy nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. He turned to ride the length of the row again, and Baxter followed.

“I was going to come by your office today,” Jeremy admitted. The park was all but empty and perhaps a better place for this conversation than the club would have been.

“My decision to ride this morning was quite opportune then.” The earl sent an approving glance across the space between the two of them. “My countess tells me you’re amenable to financing the orphanage.”

“Yes.” Jeremy marveled that something he’d opposed so vehemently only a few days before had suddenly become one of his top priorities.

“Excellent. Clarissa will be quite pleased. But I’d been meaning to catch up with you about another matter of business. You see, Bash, my brother, says he has a few concerns about Ludwig.”

This caught Jeremy’s attention. “Devonshire’s considering investing then?”

Baxter scowled and then exhaled loud enough that Jeremy heard it over the pounding of the horses’ hooves.

“He and Gold aren’t enthusiastic. Aside from some of the shipments known to have gone missing, there are reports that those that have actually arrived at the Ashanti Coast were tampered with. Air pockets are getting caught in the firing chamber. Particularly troublesome when pistols explode in our own soldiers’ hands.”

Jeremy knew this. And since potential investors did as well…

“And this has effectively driven down Ludwig’s value,” Jeremy pointed out. “My first objective is to eliminate the vermin involved.”

Baxter jerked to a halt and pinned his gaze on Jeremy. “You know who to go after?”

“I have a few leads, and ironically enough, one of them was provided by one of our orphans. A gang boss by the name of Farley. Surely it’s not a coincidence that the name Farley has come up on more than one of my manifests?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Not under these circumstances.” Jeremy rolled a shoulder. “The Ludwig brothers themselves are apathetic at best, if not outright culpable. As far as I can tell, they’ve only encouraged such activity. Impossible for other legitimate businesses to function in the climate that’s come about.” Legitimate being the keyword.

“There are rumors that they’ve badgered a few club members. Not good for business at all.”

“One way or another, we need to neutralize them.”

“My brother mentioned the same.” Baxter seemed quite in agreement. “And now with the ladies involved…”

Jeremy nodded. His thoughts exactly. “I’ll be thorough. Tell that to your brother and Gold.”

“Until then, we can only hope to keep them at bay. But I’ve no doubt they’ll make mischief, if not worse, at the warehouse. They’ll fight it. If the children have other options, better options, the gangs lose their soldiers.” Baxter stared straight ahead at the unoccupied run.

“One would wonder”—Jeremy peered at the club owner from the corner of his eye—“if perhaps you were aware of the connection when you so innocently suggested I step in to fund their operations?”

Baxter chortled and then urged his horse forward again. “They don’t call me the Earl of Bastards for nothing.”

Jeremy could only chuckle at this. And then he wondered if, a few days before, he would have chuckled at anything.

Lydia had always been able to make him laugh when he was feeling dour, and apparently, that hadn’t changed.

But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t allow her to melt his resolve.

She was Lydia, but she was also a Cockfield. And he couldn’t look beyond the choice her brothers had made.

“What’s really motivating you in all of this, Tempest?” Baxter asked out of the blue, as though he was reading Jeremy’s mind. “I understand the potential for profits, but in the past two months, you’ve moved your office to the docks, set your sights on what ought to be a relatively troublesome investment, and now you’re intent on rooting out a gang of treasonous villains. It’s all well and good, of course, but why now? And why you? Does this… have something to do with your brother?”

Jeremy stiffened, and Zeus twitched and then jerked his head, turning sideways on the road and threatening to buck again.

Rather than answer Baxter’s question, Jeremy soothed the animal, increasing the pressure with his legs and thighs.

Only when Zeus was under control did he glance at Baxter again.

The earl merely stared at him questioningly, waiting patiently, brows raised.

“My brother served valiantly,” Jeremy answered. “Why wouldn’t I concern myself with issues that threaten our soldiers?”

Baxter looked as though he knew more but simply tightened his mouth.

“Ludwig’s profits will double. Possibly triple,” Jeremy continued. He had analyzed every possible scenario and none of the numbers lined up with those provided by the current owners. “The greater the risk, the greater the reward. You, Bash, and Gold are simply going to have to decide if you’ve the ballocks to go all in.”

“It’s not me who requires convincing. As I said before…”

“Yes.” Jeremy stared knowingly back at the other earl. “However, considering you’re known as London’s most charmed negotiator, I shouldn’t be concerned, eh?”

Baxter snorted. “True.”

“And as for these gang bosses,” Jeremy went on, “I’ve discussed the issue with a handful of Bow Street Runners. But I wouldn’t mind a little help with manpower once we decide to raid, once I know more of the specifics.”

“How many?”

“Twenty men. More if you can.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. Just do me a favor and try to give me a few hours’ notice. I’ll need to bring substitutes into the club.”

Jeremy nodded. The idea that he might be able to clear his brother’s name was one he couldn’t let go of. Or perhaps, the notion refused to let go of him.

Unfortunately, it was also possible the information he discovered could do just the opposite.

That thought summoned an elephant to sit on his chest.

Damn Lucas, and damn Blackheart, and damn them both to hell that they would turn their backs on his brother so easily.

“Is this orphan of yours the same one you’ve taken into your home?”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Women talk too much. But, yes, he is.”

“Your newfound compassion knows no bounds.”

“Lady Lydia didn’t allow me much choice. If I didn’t take him in, she would have taken him home with her to Heart Place. He’d have robbed her blind.” Jeremy shrugged. “It’s a small thing, and I might as well take advantage of any information he provides me. It won’t be long before the boy tires of earning honest wages. But before he does, there’s a chance he could lead me right to this Farley fellow.”

Lydia would be hugely disappointed, and Jeremy felt an inkling of guilt for not making all of his intentions clear to her. But if he had, she would have only had questions. And she would have defended Ollie most ardently. They would argue. Her cheeks would flush, and her cobalt eyes would sparkle with passion, causing him to forget what they were arguing about in the first place and give into other, counterproductive urges.

Urges that could only end in further heartache. Jeremy unclenched and clenched his fists. Because both his cock and his heart protested the assumption.

Baxter drew his horse to a halt again and glanced down at his fob watch. “Keep me appraised, Tempest. But I’d best turn back. My countess will be expecting me to break my fast with her.” Tipping his hat, he grinned. “Give my best to Lady Lydia.”

Jeremy stared after him—a man who, born on the wrong side of the blanket, had elevated himself to become a bloody earl. As the white mare pranced toward the park exit, Baxter road away, his posture as noble as any man born into a title. Damned fellow knew far too much for his own good.

Jeremy couldn’t help but wonder what else he knew.