Carnal Knowledge Ch 01 02

Author's Note: This is my first story so don't judge me too harshly!

The story is a little slow to start; the explicit content is more in the second chapter of this posted portion. Thanks for reading! I hope you will enjoy!

I have edited these chapters for some minor adjustments.

- Emmeline

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Chapter One

London, England

William Grayson, Earl of Rockdale, was not a nice man. He knew this, accepted it, and it bothered him not at all. Wealth, good looks, and a title allowed him to spend, drink, whore, gamble, and travel to whatever extent he pleased.

With a smirk, he raised his snifter of whisky and toasted the frowning portrait of his grandfather over the fireplace of his townhouse study.

His dead wife, the faithless bitch, had often accused him of being a cold, selfish bastard. He tossed back the rest of his liquor.

It was true for the most part, he mused. But he had tried with Isabelle, at least for a time, to be what he thought she wanted. He snorted into the empty glass. Dear Isabelle, however, had been humping every moving thing with a cock between its legs.

Remembering her taunts that he was not even the true father of their children still caused his gut to burn with anger.

He roughly shoved back from the desk in his study. It was a damn good thing the woman had gotten herself killed in a carriage accident else he might have strangled her with his bare hands. But even hating her as he did, he had not dealt well with her death.

His hands rubbed tiredly over his face as he considered the endless nights of drinking and gambling. But...it had been a year since the accident, and Rockdale acknowledged to himself it was time to move forward. His children had been sorely neglected. And even if there was something of a monster inside him, he did love his son and daughter.

Rockdale sloshed more whiskey into his glass and focused his attention on the letter lying on his desk from his old pal, Cavendish. Had Harry truly sent him a gift—how had Harry penned it—"a luscious berry, ripe for the picking?"

He shrugged and lifted his glass once more to the disapproving face of his grandsire.

"Only one way to find out what entertainment can be found in the countryside, eh, old man?"

He drained the glass and set it down with a thump. Yes, it was time for the Earl of Rockdale to return home to Verity Hall.

***

Kent, England

Eliza Lockhart's sketching instructions were interrupted mid-sentence as the door to the nursery classroom flew open, and Mrs. Biddleton sailed in.

"Miss Lockhart." The housekeeper directed a distinctly unfriendly look at Eliza. "You are required downstairs right away. The master has arrived home and wishes to inspect the new staff in his study." Her lips tightened. "Pray make yourself presentable."

Eliza lifted her brows at the housekeeper's back as the woman stomped back out.

"Well, my dears, I suppose our art lesson must wait until after I see your father." She smiled at six-year-old Nicholas and seven-year-old Anna, who sat diligently drawing rabbits with charcoal.

"Old Biddie sure makes no secret of her ill feelings toward you."

"No, she does not." Eliza glanced ruefully over at the speaker, Nanny Goodson, who sat mending clothes in the corner. "I have been governess here for nearly a month, but Mrs. Biddleton still treats me coldly as ever."

She approached the older woman and lowered her voice. "What have I done to offend her?"

Nanny Goodson paused a moment before continuing her stitching. "She didn't have a say in your hiring, and Biddie despises not having her thumb on everything in this household." She cackled. "Of course, it doesn't help that the footmen slobber like hungry dogs every time you pass by."

Eliza's cheeks pinkened. "You are jesting. I have not noticed anything of the sort."

The older woman eyed her doubtfully. "You haven't been around many men before have you, lass."

"Well, not actually, but I think you must exaggerate."

The nanny shrugged but looked up at Eliza soberly. "Just watch yourself. Don't let yourself get caught in a dark corner."

She waggled a finger at the young governess. "Best hurry downstairs, the master doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Moving for the door, Eliza hesitated and turned back. "What is he like...Lord Rockdale, I mean?" she asked in a low voice.

Nanny Goodson frowned. "His lordship's polite enough, I reckon. Treats us well, but he hasn't come out here to the country since his wife passed. Poor wee ducks," she added, looking over at the children.

She nibbled her lip and continued in almost a whisper. "Make no mistake his lordship's a handsome devil for sure, but something about those black eyes of his just sends a chill to my heart." She shivered slightly. "Now, run along, or Mrs. Biddleton will have yer head on a platter for dinner."

Eliza hurriedly descended the stairs from the nursery. She hoped the earl did not take the same disliking to her that the housekeeper had. As a governess just starting out, getting hired on in a fine household like Verity Hall had been a godsend, due in no small part to the letter of recommendation written as a favor by a friend of her father's.

The thought of her father caused her to shoulders to sag. His sudden death had left Eliza's small family with little funds and debts to be paid. At nineteen years of age, Eliza had been forced to leave her sheltered life in the country behind and find employment to support her mother and younger sister.

The sale of their family home and small farm plus her wages, though small, allowed her delicate mother, twelve-year-old sister Abigail, and their beloved Nanny Wick to live in a simple yet sturdy cottage in Lancashire. It was difficult to be away from her family, and she worried continually about their welfare.

Reaching the closed door of the earl's study, she straightened her spine and smoothed her fair hair, checking the tightness of the hairpins that secured her low, rolled braid. With nervous hands, she dusted off the skirts of her dark-blue serge dress, her favorite because it matched the color of her eyes.

The housekeeper reappeared, grumbling as she marched down the hall. The other recently hired servants trailed her, followed by the dour butler, Simpson.

After a cursory inspection of the group, the butler scratched the closed study door before ushering them all inside.

The earl, sitting behind his large desk, rose at their entrance. Eliza's eyes widened. Goodness, he was a giant! Although, she noted, despite being quite tall and broad shouldered, his claret wool frock coat with dove-gray waistcoat and trousers were snugly and perfectly tailored to his lean frame.

Eliza judged him to be somewhere in his middle thirties, with longish black hair that hinted of a tendency to curl. His eyes were dark in color and slightly hooded.

She couldn't help but quiver slightly as his attention turned from conversing briefly with the butler to the servants standing before him.

"I wish to formally welcome you all to Verity Hall," her employer said, stepping forward. "As I am sure you must already know, I am William Grayson, the Earl of Rockdale."

His dark gaze inspected the line of servants and settled on Eliza. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as the earl paused in front of her. She kept her eyes low under his cool regard and fought to stand still and not fidget.

Simpson cleared his throat. "My lord, this is Miss Lockhart, the new governess."

Eliza curtsied low before the earl, self-consciously aware her fair complexion revealed the rosy color blooming across her cheeks.

"Miss Lockhart, I am pleased to make your acquaintance." Lord Rockdale's slow scrutiny seemed to touch every inch of her person from head to toe.

The butler cleared his throat again, and Eliza's heart thumped almost painfully as the earl stared at her for another long moment, his expression unreadable.

She exhaled gratefully when the butler continued the introductions, and the lord's eyes finally left her.

***

Throughout the remainder of the day, Eliza attempted to carry on her duties as usual, but the strange, unsettled feeling stayed with her. As she worked with the children in their afternoon lessons, she found herself looking up at every sound, both dreading and hoping the earl would make an appearance in the nursery classroom.

Anna and Nicholas were distracted and anxious, having learned of their father's return. Finally giving up rudimentary mathematics as a lost cause for the day, Eliza rubbed her aching temples as her charges begged to be allowed to go downstairs and seek out the earl.

"Absolutely not," Nanny Goodson said. "You lot shall not be pestering his lordship until he has asked for you. Now sit still and pay attention to your lessons, or I'll tan your bottoms," she threatened stoutly.

Eliza sighed a little over the strict discipline the children endured and smiled wanly. "I think we are finished for the day."

Finally, the children were summoned, and a flurry of washing hands and faces commenced before the nanny led the ecstatic young ones downstairs. Eliza remained in the nursery, helping the maids tidy up.

Remembering how flushed and self-conscious she had become in the earl's presence, Eliza resolved to avoid further embarrassment, at least for the day.

After a solitary evening meal in the kitchen, she retreated to the quiet sanctuary of her room. Located on the same floor as the nursery but in the opposite wing, her chamber was small but comfortable and, thankfully, private.

She knew many of the maids resented Eliza's status in Lord Rockdale's country home. As a governess she was neither servant nor family but instead trod a careful line between both worlds.

Eliza undressed and pulled on her nightgown and wrapper before curling up in a chair before the hearth with a favorite novel. However, this night the familiar words failed to capture her attention. She stared into the fire, remembering the earl's close regard of her in his study.

The odd sensation of butterflies returned to her stomach. She found herself wondering what Lord Rockdale's wife had been like, and if the relationship had been a love match.

Shaking out of her reverie, Eliza brushed out and rebraided her long hair before climbing into bed. After tossing and turning for what seemed like an eternity, she lay on her back in frustration as sleep stubbornly refused to claim her.

She rose from the bed with a sigh. Pulling her wrapper back on, she was lured downstairs to the kitchen by the thought of a small cup of milk to help her sleep. She had fallen into the habit of doing so every few nights. It helped a little with the homesickness to carry on a ritual from home. Plus, it was rather nice, she admitted to herself, to roam the house when all was quiet and calm without the censure of Mrs. Biddleton.

Her bare feet made little sound on the floors as she descended and padded toward the kitchen. Though the house was dark and shadow-filled, she was accustomed to finding her way without a candle. Reaching the kitchen area, she hesitated as an odd tingle prickled along the back of her neck.

"Do you often wander my home alone at night?"

Eliza lurched around, biting back a squeal of fright. She gasped in dismay upon seeing it was the earl who had caught her in the kitchen.

Lord Rockdale stood far too closely for comfort, illuminated only by the banked fire in the large hearth. His coat and cravat were missing, and the sleeves of his white linen shirt had been rolled up. He seemed to loom larger than life as he eyed her with arms folded across his chest.

Embarrassment flooded her body, and Eliza was suddenly certain he would sack her on the spot. "I-I apologize, my lord," she stammered. "I could not sleep and thought to get a drink of milk. Please do excuse my intrusion, I will return to my room."

Eliza turned to quickly step around the lord but squeaked in surprise when his large hand snaked out and clamped around her upper arm.

"Miss Lockhart, please do not run away just yet." She saw the flash of his white teeth as he smiled and released her arm. "I, too, find myself awake tonight and in search of Cook's strawberry tart. Will you not sit for a moment with me?"

Lord Rockdale gestured toward a chair at the kitchen table, and reluctantly Eliza sat in the chair he pulled out for her. She was flustered at the extreme improperness of being alone with the earl in her night clothes but unsure how to politely flee back to her room.

I must be dreaming, she thought dazedly, as the earl efficiently moved between the kitchen and larder. Sliding a mug before her, he sat in the next chair and pulled a small flask from his pocket.

"Milk is a beverage of children," he informed her and proceeded to pour a goodly portion of the flask into her cup. He winked at Eliza as if they were co-conspirators and began to devour a large slice of strawberry tart.

Dismayed, she sipped her doctored milk hesitantly, unsure if the man expected her to make conversation.

Lord Rockdale finally paused, swallowing, and glanced over at Eliza. "Will you not have some of my tart? It is divine."

"Oh no, my lord, you enjoy it." She attempted a shy smile.

"I insist." He broke a small morsel off his slice and extended it toward her in his fingers, his dark eyes seeming to compel her to accept it.

Helplessly, she shook her head, knowing she must extract herself from this awkward and oddly intimate tableau. "No, my lord, I..."

To Eliza's complete consternation, the earl pushed the bit of tart into her open mouth.

"I never take no for an answer, I am afraid." His brief, wolfish smile did nothing to set her nerves at ease.

Wordlessly, Eliza chewed, casting her eyes down uncertainly.

"Finish your milk, my dear," he said, pushing the mug closer.

She drained the cup and stood abruptly, the wooden chair scraping loudly over the stone floor. "I should clear away the dishes and return to my room, my lord." She spoke pleasantly despite quaking inside, praying he would not take offense.

Don't be such a ninny, Eliza, she chided herself. Everyone knew the gentry were an odd lot. He was just being friendly, she told herself firmly.

Rockdale rose to his feet as well and waved a hand carelessly. "Leave the dishes. Cook knows I am a naughty boy at heart and is used to my ways." He grinned, suddenly looking very boyish. "I enjoy sneaking sweets late at night when no one is around to interfere with me taking whatever I wish."

Frowning slightly at her he added, "By the by, I did wish to ask you; How are the children faring, Miss Lockhart?"

Eliza blinked under his intense stare. "The children, my lord?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, the ones I am paying you to educate?"

"Oh, of course, my lord. They are doing quite well." She flushed, feeling like a simpleton.

"I see." He rocked back on his heels then nodded as if having reached a decision. "Tell me, Miss Lockhart, are you very tired?"

"Actually, my lord, I--"

"Come," the earl commanded, interrupting her reply as he strode toward the door.

Flabbergasted by his arrogance but realizing she was expected to follow her strange employer, Eliza cast a worried look at the dirty dishes and hastened after the earl before he disappeared from sight.

Rockdale led the way upstairs to the library on the second floor. Once inside, he stoked the fire and turned to face her where she hovered in the doorway, wavering with indecision. The library was her favorite room in the grand house, filled with endless rows of books and plush, inviting sofas and armchairs.

He motioned toward the small sofa near the fire. "Please, come, sit down, Miss Lockhart. I have a few brief questions regarding the children, if you do not mind." He smiled slightly at her and lit some candles.

Eliza's feet somehow propelled her forward into the room. She gripped the ties of her wrapper with icy hands and uneasily perched on the sofa as he indicated. "My lord, with all due respect, would you not prefer to conduct an interview with me during the daytime?" When we are properly attired, she added silently and fervently.

The earl sat in a chair opposite her. "On the contrary, my dear, I like to keep these matters informal and straight-forward." He leaned forward slightly, cocking his head. "Are you frightened of me, Miss Lockhart?"

She swallowed hard. "N-n-no, my lord. Just unaccustomed to such...informality...with, er, someone like you. I-I mean, you being Lord Rockdale and my employer...," she trailed off, knowing she was babbling. She WAS a bit afraid...but also mesmerized by him. Rockdale was most attractive, his rumpled appearance somehow even more enticing than the perfect nobleman she had met earlier.

He chuckled softly. "Ah well, they do call me an unconventional man. Perhaps you will learn to tolerate my ways in time, Eliza. You don't mind if I use your given name?"

She shook her head, bemused.

"Now," he continued in a more serious tone, "we must discuss the children. Tell me, Eliza, how are they adjusting to their studies? I want to hear your curriculum and methods of teaching."

Her answers were hesitant at first but sensing a genuine interest from him, Eliza began to relax and speak more freely. A few times she stopped herself and bit her lip, thinking she had surely gone too far in expressing her ideas of what the children should be learning. But the earl remained nonjudgmental, only nodding occasionally and encouraging her to continue.

At last, Rockdale reclined back and seemed satisfied with her replies to his questions. "I am impressed. I see that you have quite a keen mind."

Eliza smiled uncertainly at the compliment. Not many men saw the value of an educated woman. There was a short silence between them as the earl sat staring as if deep in thought.

"I often have trouble sleeping," he said finally with a rueful glance her way. "I apologize if I have disturbed your rest."

"No, my lord, it is fine," Eliza hastened to assure him, unsure how to interpret his expression. "I am pleased that you take an interest in your children."

He idly picked up a book lying on the table beside the sofa. "Your voice is quite pleasing, soothing even. Could I possibly trouble you to read aloud to me for a little while?"

Even as a small part of her wondered if the earl was having a jest at her expense, Eliza's ingrained politeness had her answering, "Of course, my lord, if you wish it, I shall."

She took the book from him and began to read aloud from the book of poems, telling herself it was not so strange of a request, as her father had often asked her to do the same at home. The earl listened quietly until some time had passed, and Eliza fought back a yawn. He reached over and took the book from her, and with some relief she moved to rise and escape.

He held up a hand. "I shall read for a while, and you listen." He smiled gently, but his eyes were very dark and firm.

Resigned, Eliza settled back, knowing at some point she must insist he let her leave, but unsure how to do so without offending her employer.

The earl began to read where she had left off, his voice steady and sure with a pleasant, deep timbre. The fire flickered and crackled nearby and cast its mellow glow over the two of them. Despite the utter improperness of the situation, Eliza found herself to be oddly soothed and wondered inwardly at the strangely domestic scene they made.

Happy memories of her family gathered in the evenings after supper, taking turns reading drifted through her mind. Fondly, she remembered her father laughing as she would change her voice to suit the characters in the novels he had adored. Perhaps, though being a noble, the earl had similar memories with his family or departed wife.