Page 3 of An Earl, His Valet, & Their Wife

Or worse, had Michael discovered something terrible about his valet’s past and was now rethinking their relationship?

Gerard forced a smile. “More like who am I thinking about. And I believe ye already ken the answer tae that, my lord. Why the flask?”

Michael grimaced and hesitantly entered the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. “Not sure I’m foxed enough to answer that, Gerry.”

Trying to control his panic, Gerard guided his man over to sit on the end of the four-poster bed, then dragged a footstool from the dressing table to perch on. “Tell me. Ye know whatever pains ye, I’ll listen.”

“It’s not a conversation I ever thought to have,” said Michael as he removed his spectacles and rubbed the little indent atop his nose, something he did about sixty-five times a day. Normally, it was an utterly endearing gesture.

“Just say it before I lose my bloody mind.”

“I promised Mama and Uffy that…that…I would discuss with you the possibility of my getting married. Solely to beget an heir for the earldom,” blurted Michael. “An old-fashioned marriage of convenience.”

“Fucking hell,” said Gerard unsteadily, somehow managing to stay seated on the footstool as his entire universe was wildly rocked.

“I know. It is a diabolical thing to land in your lap. I should also add, for fairness, that Mama asked because…because she isn’t well. But I told them if you say no, then that is that and I’ll hear no more about it. Cousin Nero can inherit.”

Still reeling, Gerard could only stare as he mentally worked through all the pertinent facts. But the practical part of him had known this day would come. Michael was at heart a dutiful, loyal man who loved his mother and stepfather. And why wouldn’t he? They were decent people. Broadminded even, in their eventual acceptance of their son’s longstanding affair with his Scottish valet. But sure as the sun rose, titles needed heirs. And no one of sound mind wanted Nero Ellis to inherit.

“Cousin Nero is a vile sack o’ shit,” said Gerard, sighing as he rubbed his thumbs soothingly over Michael’s knuckles.

“He is,” agreed Michael miserably. “But you’re my most important consideration. I would not hurt or disrespect you for the world.”

“Nae, mo chridhe. Duty comes afore me. Ye must have a son. A legitimate son, much as it kills me tae say it.”

“I know it is killing you. That brogue is getting thicker and thicker. Tell me what to do, Gerry. Give me a plan and I’ll follow it to the letter. There is no way I could manage a marriage of convenience…bedding a wife until she is with child…without your support. Your guidance. You’re the one who knows how to properly please a woman! I don’t think my cock-sucking ability is going to be much help.”

A reluctant smile tugged at Gerard’s lips when he actually wanted to hurl a vase across the room. Indeed, Michael would have to fuck his wife. A woman who might upset their whole happy applecart and insist on any manner of changes to do her belly duty—including the dismissal of a valet her husband was entirely too close to.

Unless, of course, said valet could manage the situation and command both earl and countess?

“Unfortunately not,” Gerard said slowly, as he pondered and discarded possibilities. “So the next question is, have ye considered who? I would counsel a steady lass. Not missish or prone tae tantrums. Someone who’ll understand that her husband’s affections are engaged elsewhere.”

Michael nodded. “I agree. Uffy actually said something similar. He suggested an older lady, one I could strike up a friendship with. Someone who’d accept the position and fripperies of a countess in exchange for heirs and wouldn’t expect love.”

Lady Katherine Kirk!

The name blasted into Gerard’s mind like cannon fire. Lady Katherine was the youngest daughter of the stuffy Marquess of Queenhill and the bane of her family. If he recalled correctly, she was slender and fair-haired, dedicated to gothic novels, completely disinterested in fashion and balls, and tried to avoid society. The poor lass must be about twenty-five now, and thoroughly sick of being shoved at any man with a heartbeat, as her mother was quite, quite desperate these days.

With the right inducements, Lady Katherine might be very willing to strike a bargain.

“What about Katherine Kirk? Queenhill’s youngest?” said Gerard. “She’s older, and a bluestocking with nae taste in fashion, but I wager if ye offered her unfettered use of the library and a generous book-buying allowance, she might be very open tae escaping her mother’s machinations.”

Michael’s whole face lit up with hope. “How do you even know that?”

“I listen. Few aristocrats pay attention tae valets, but we are always observing on our man’s behalf.”

“Gerry, you’re a genius. I love books too, so a bluestocking would be perfect. I’ll call on Lady Katherine today. Right now, in fact—”

“Hold, my lord,” he replied, leaning forward to caress Michael’s inner thigh, before cupping his cock.

“Surely you don’t mean to have me now?” gasped Michael, even as he shamelessly ground himself against his master’s palm.

“Over and over,” said Gerard as he unfastened the trouser fall then roughly handled Michael’s rapidly hardening shaft. “Only then may ye call on the lady. It will please me tae know that she’ll see an elegant earl but underneath the tailored clothes you’ll be marked by my mouth. My seed inside ye.”

Michael moaned. “Whatever you say. Sir.”

As Gerard methodically undressed his earl, caressing his lean form before preparing him with the oil kept next to the bed, he nodded in satisfaction at the affection, the trust, the naked desire in his lover’s eyes. This marriage matter would require the deftest, most delicate of handling, but it could be done. Soon enough the house would be alive with the sounds of wee bairns who would never have to sleep with a dagger, steal food, scour church poor boxes for clothing, or blatantly lie about their experience to apply for a role. And duty done, the countess would gracefully retire to the country or find a paramour of her own, leaving him and Michael to continue on.