Earl Lessons: The Footmen’s Club Series

by Bowman, Valerie

  “Really?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

  He gave her a skeptical look. “You’re thinking it’s not a terribly useful skill for an earl, aren’t you?”

  “No, not at all,” she replied. “I was thinking you never fail to surprise me.”

  He grinned at that, but kept his concentration on the stick and knife in his hand, where he’d begun carving.

  “What other unexpected things do you know how to do, my lord?” she asked as she carefully picked up her skirts to climb over a fallen tree.

  He glanced up from his work. “Shall we?” he asked, motioning toward the fallen log.

  Her brow furrowed. “Shall we what?”

  “Shall we sit? Here?”

  “On this log?” she asked, pursing her lips.

  He chuckled. “Never mind. I suppose a lady as fine as yourself would never do something as primitive as sit upon a fallen log.”

  “Now, wait a moment,” Annabelle replied, suddenly quite offended that he’d think so little of her. “I was merely surprised because I didn’t realize we were going to sit. I’m perfectly capable of sitting upon a log.” As if to prove the point, she promptly lowered herself onto the log, allowing her skirts to fan out around her.

  While he watched with a grin on his face, she pushed her legs out in front of herself and crossed her booted ankles.

  “I thought a lady wasn’t supposed to cross her legs,” David pointed out.

  Annabelle winked at him. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  He threw back his head and laughed at that before taking a seat beside her. His knees stuck out due to his height, but he continued diligently working on the stick with the knife.

  “You never answered. What other things can you do?” Annabelle prodded.

  He rubbed his chin with the back of his wrist and appeared to contemplate the question for a moment. “Let’s see. I can cut down a tree with an ax to make lumber. I can raise chickens and pigs. I can make a fire with only a stick and a rock, though I do prefer a flint. I can shoot the button off a French officer’s coat at fifty paces, and I can dance a waltz. But you already knew that last one.” He winked at her this time.

  Warmth shot through Annabelle’s middle at his wink. The man was too handsome by half. And the things he’d said nearly took her breath away. How terribly unexpected of him. Everything he’d listed were all much more interesting than the things the gentlemen of the ton could do. Race a horse. Gamble. Drink heavily. Who cared?

  “Those are quite impressive feats.” She concentrated on her feet so she wouldn’t swoon if he winked at her again. She’d never swooned before. She’d always thought it was silly. But then again, she’d never been winked at by David. The man’s hooded eyes and chiseled jaw might make a non-silly lady swoon. Or at least want to swoon, and that wasn’t good, either.

  “In the army, I was known for being able to climb the highest tree and run the fastest,” David continued.

  “Yes, Marianne mentioned you were a fast runner.” Hmm. She had a scuff on her boot. She’d have to inform Cara when they returned home. What else could she distract herself with?

  “Marianne told you that?” His brow was furrowed. He shook his head. “Regardless, something tells me none of those things will be particularly useful to me as an earl.”

  “You never know. As the Earl of Elmwood, you may be called upon to whittle something.” She smiled at him.

  He shrugged. “If I’m lucky.” But there was a look in his eye that told her he meant it.

  She leaned forward to catch his eye again. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You don’t feel as if you have the skills to be an earl.”

  “I don’t. You’re teaching me everything I need to know. And everything I already know is useless.”

  “That’s not true, at all.” She studied his face. How could this man possibly think he was unworthy of his title?

  “Isn’t it? Aside from the waltzing, has there been one thing I already knew how to do? I know how to be an army captain. I don’t know how to be an earl. I was never meant to be one.”

  She nearly gasped. “Of course you were meant to be one. You were born the eldest son of the former earl’s only son.”

  David shook his head. “I may be an earl by rights, but that’s not what I meant. I mean I’m not cut out for it. I don’t think my father ever intended to tell me the truth. If I hadn’t been a prisoner of war and found by the Home Office, I would still be in the army right now. That’s where I truly belong.”

  Annabelle bit her lip. She wasn’t certain what to say. She’d never been in such a situation, sitting next to a man with a title who wanted no part of it. In her world all the men with titles were like peacocks, strutting around with them, proud of them. Well, perhaps Beau and his friends weren’t overbearing about their titles, but they certainly understood their duty, and didn’t want to renounce their positions.

  “Perhaps it was meant to be,” she finally said softly. “Perhaps everything that happened has led you back to who you were meant to be.”

  He gave her a wan smile. “Thank you. For trying to make me feel better.” He cleared his throat. “That’s quite enough about me. What are you good at, my lady?” he asked, his knife flying over the stick, while bits of bark and thin pieces of wood flew off it.

  She laughed. “Oh, I’m ever so accomplished,” she batted her eyelashes at him so he’d know for certain she was jesting. “I can do all the things a young lady of good breeding can do.”

  “Such as?”

  “I can play the pianoforte with reasonable skill. I can dance all the dances necessary at a ball. I can read and write. I can paint with watercolors. I can even do needlework both plain and fancy.”

  “Fancy, eh?” The smile he gave her made her knees wobble.

  “Oh, yes, and on top of all of that, I daresay I’m an expert at the art of flirtation.”

  “Really?” His brows shot up.

  “Oh, yes. I’ve been known to flirt with the best of them.”

  “Very well. If you were flirting with me, what would you say?”

  She felt her cheeks heat. She couldn’t flirt with him. Not with him. She was actually attracted to him. The whole reason flirting worked was because it meant nothing, one was only engaging in meaningless talk. Flirting with someone she actually wanted to kiss—oh, dear, she wanted to kiss him—was an entirely different proposition altogether. If it were possible to kick herself while sitting atop a fallen log, she would have done it. Why, oh why, had she mentioned flirting? In his presence?

  “Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” she breathed, feeling like a complete fool. “I…I couldn’t possibly flirt with you.”

  “Why not?” He looked hurt. “Am I not the sort of chap you’d flirt with?”

  Yes, actually. She plucked at the ribbon beneath her chin. “It’s only that…flirting is best done at ball and parties, when I have a fan in my hand.” Dear lord. That was perhaps the silliest thing she’d ever said.

  “A fan?” He frowned. “What does a fan have to do with it?”

  “Everything,” she rushed to assure him. “I suppose that’s yet another lesson for you. Fans have many subtle meanings.”

  Still whittling, David cocked his head to the side. “Fans?” The look on his face was beyond skeptical. He sighed. “I know I’m going to regret this, but go ahead and tell me. I’ll do my best to try and remember.”

  Annabelle cleared her throat, and folded her hands in her lap, beyond pleased with herself for turning the conversation away from a demonstration of verbal flirting. “If a lady is carrying her fan open in her left hand, it means, come and talk to me.”

  His brows drew together in a thunderous expression. “Seriously?”

  “Yes.

  His eyes were narrowed. “How is one supposed to know the message is meant for him?”

  “She will catch your eye,” Annabelle insisted, plucking at the collar of her pelisse.

  David frowned again. “Very
well. What else?”

  “If a lady carries her fan in her right hand in front of her face, it means follow me.”

  His brows shot up. “Really? What else?”

  “If she carries it in the left hand in front of her face, it means she is desirous of an acquaintance.”

  “Left hand in front of face. I hope to remember that one, at least.” He chuckled.

  “If she draws it across her eyes, she is saying she is sorry.”

  He nodded at that, still focused on the stick in his hand.

  “If she twirls the fan in her right hand, it means she loves another.”

  He winced. “Another good one to remember.”

  “If she drops it, she means to say that you shall only be friends.”

  His lips formed an O and he scowled. “Too bad.”

  Annabelle waved her hand in the air. “Fanning slowly means she’s married, fanning quickly means she’s engaged. And finally, if she touches the tip of the fan with her finger, she is saying…kiss me.”

  David’s head snapped up. “Does that happen often?”

  “I couldn’t say—these are all more theoretical in nature. I, for one, rarely use my fan for anything more than cooling myself at the opera.”

  David laughed. “But you could be telling some poor chap across the way that you’re engaged.”

  Annabelle laughed too. “No doubt I’ve done that more than once.”

  “It sounds like a lot of nonsense to me, but at least I’m done with my whittling project.” David held up his creation and Annabelle realized that in the short span of time they’d been talking, David had fashioned a rudimentary flute out of the stick. He put the knife back in his pocket and lifted the flute to his lips and blew through the opening he’d made in the end. A high-pitched whistle came out and he played a little song for her using his fingers on the small holes he’d carved into the stick.

  When he finished, she clapped and laughed. “Now, that is impressive. Any earl should be proud to have such a skill.”

  He stood, offered her his hand, and helped her to her feet before handing her the flute. Then he bowed. “For you, my lady. Thank you for teaching me all the things I need to learn. I can only hope I don’t embarrass you and your mother.”

  “Nonsense,” Annabelle replied. “You’ll be a smashing success at the Talbots’ ball.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  David smoothed his hand down the front of his fine black evening attire for what had to be the hundredth time already this evening. He and Marianne were standing in Lady Courtney’s foyer, where they’d come to escort Lady Annabelle and her mother to the Talbots’ ball.

  David had even allowed Bell to send over his valet to help him dress, on the chance the servant might know something David wasn’t privy to about evening attire worn by gentlemen of the ton. Now he was outfitted in all black with a white cravat, shirt, and waistcoat, and according to Bell’s valet, David was the image of a well-to-do gentleman on his way to a ball.

  Bell was not with them tonight. He’d been called away on business for the Crown, which meant David was escorting all three ladies to the ball alone. Nausea had hit him earlier when he’d contemplated walking into a ballroom full of London’s finest. They would all be staring at him, no doubt wondering how the clod from Brighton would behave in London Society.

  He had no problem commanding a hectic battlefield full of soldiers with ease, but the thought of walking into a crowded ballroom filled him with dread. He smoothed his hand down his shirt for the one hundred and first time.

  A sound at the top of the staircase caught his attention and he looked up to see Annabelle come floating down the steps toward him, several steps behind her mother. David had to do a double take. A lump formed in his throat. Annabelle was a vision. Tall and lithe like a swan, she was wearing a glowing golden gown that only served to make her blond hair shimmer in the candlelight. Her hair was pulled back in an elegant chignon, and gold and diamonds covered her throat, with diamond ear bobs and a diamond bracelet on her wrist. She shimmered like a goddess coming down from Olympus. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she stopped directly in front of him.

  “Close your mouth, then,” Marianne whispered in his ear.

  He immediately snapped his mouth shut while Marianne and Lady Angelina traded greetings. David greeted Lady Angelina as well before turning to face Annabelle.

  “You look lovely,” David finally said to her, knowing the word was inadequate.

  “Well,” she said, returning his smile, “seems I’ve taught you how to flatter a lady properly.”

  “No flattery involved,” he replied. “You truly are a vision.”

  “You look quite handsome yourself,” Annabelle replied, eyeing him up and down.

  “Thank you, my lady. I hope I’m somewhat worthy to escort such a beauty to a ball.”

  Marianne and Lady Angelina exchanged a look, while David took Annabelle’s arm and escorted her outside. At least his carriage was on point. His grandfather had been rich, there were no two ways about it. And since David had taken over the title, Bell had helped him by giving him the name of London’s finest coach outfitters. In addition to purchasing the new curricle, he’d had the entire interior of his grandfather’s finest coach redone with deep sapphire velvet upholstery. He’d installed the shining mahogany woodwork himself, but only because he wanted it to be perfect, not to save money. If he wasn’t confident in his actions, manners, and speech while making his debut to the ton, at least he could be confident in the quality of his clothing and his belongings.

  With the help of the two footmen who’d accompanied the coach, David helped the three ladies to alight before pulling himself up into the conveyance and taking a seat next to Annabelle. Marianne and Lady Angelina had sat together across from them.

  “I must say, you two make a gorgeous couple,” Marianne said as the vehicle took off down the street. “All of London will be jealous of the two of you.”

  “Yes,” Lady Angelina agreed. “Our little party may start some gossip tonight.”

  “What gossip?” David asked, suddenly apprehensive. He knew enough to know that gossip was bad. He wasn’t looking for himself or any of his companions to be the subject gossip tonight.

  “Oh, I’m only teasing,” Lady Angelina assured him with a soft smile. “I meant that since Annabelle is unengaged and so are you, some people may wonder if you’re…together.”

  David settled back into the seat a little easier. “I would be flattered to start such gossip,” he replied with a chuckle.

  “Oh, no, no, no,” Annabelle said, “that wouldn’t do at all. Why, I’ve spent all afternoon planning which ladies to introduce you to this evening. We don’t want them to think you fancy me, of all people.”

  “Ladies? Do tell? Who have you decided upon?” Marianne asked, clasping her hands together with obvious glee.

  Annabelle gave all three other occupants of the coach a conspiratorial smile. “I’ve decided on Lady Elspeth Morgan, Lady Titiana Homer, and Lady Heloise Maitland.”

  One of Lady Angelina’s golden brows shot up. “Lady Elspeth, really? That’s a surprising choice.”

  Annabelle frowned. “Not really. Not when you consider she’s already rumored to be the Season’s best catch. I expect Lord Elmwood here to be the most sought-after bachelor, and there’s no better way to make that happen than to pair him with the most sought-after debutante.”

  “I thought you were the most sought-after debutante,” David said, grinning at Annabelle.

  “He has you there, Annabelle,” Lady Angelina replied with a knowing smile.

  “I may be sought after,” Annabelle replied with a sigh, directing her reply to her mother, “but I’ve been out for five Seasons. Lady Elspeth is the best chance Lord Elmwood has at catching the ton’s attention immediately.” She gave David a self-assured smile. “Leave everything to me.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, Annabelle had introduced David to all three
of the young ladies she’d mentioned in the coach. Then she’d been forced to watch while he danced with each of them in turn. Of course, Annabelle had been asked to dance by a half-dozen of her regular suitors, including Lord Murdock, who was particularly officious this evening. But she’d turned them all down to stand with Marianne, drink lukewarm champagne, and watch as her charge, David, made a smashing success of himself at the Talbots’ ball.

  He truly was handsome. That was simply fact. Why, he’d nearly taken her breath away tonight when she’d seen him at the bottom of the stairs. He’d been standing there wearing all black and white, his sapphire eyes glowing in the shadows of the foyer. Tall and muscled, his jawline bold, his shoulders square, he’d never looked more alluring. If he was apprehensive, it didn’t show. The man knew precisely how to hide emotion. A skill that would do him well as a member of the ton.

  Adding to her dismay, Annabelle had hardly been able to take her eyes off him all evening. In addition to his good looks, he was so unlike the other stuffed shirts in the ballroom. Half of them were wearing bright peacock blues or royal-looking purples, for heaven’s sake. They came buzzing around, smirking, preening, and trying to impress her with their golden snuff boxes and jeweled rings. David didn’t wear any rings, and she seriously doubted he owned a snuff box, golden or otherwise.

  He stood out not only due to his height and sophisticated fashion, but he was also debonair. The man had a mild manner yet a commanding presence that made you want to speak to him. Made you want to stand next to him and be in his company. He didn’t have to be the center of attention in every conversation. She soon learned he made his mark by being affable and steadfast, offering a clever remark or a witty response that was never at the expense of another in the group. He was kind, she realized. Kind and classic. A perfect partner.

  Annabelle forced herself to take her eyes off David’s dance with Lady Heloise to scan the ballroom. Lord Murdock was staring at her like she was a prize mare at Tattersall’s. She should have remembered this Season she had Lord Murdock to deal with. The flowers he’d sent were just the start of it. The Marquess of Murdock had been the purported catch of the last few Seasons. He’d finally offered for Lady Julianna Montgomery, who had eventually tossed him over for the Duke of Worthington. Now that Murdock was back on the market, the marquess had apparently taken Annabelle in his sights. He’d been after her during her first Season, but she’d managed to stave him off. The man was handsome with dark-blond hair and dark brown eyes, and he was certainly well-dressed, but every time she spoke to him, he seemed…petulant, self-obsessed. No. She was definitely not interested in the marquess. But he wasn’t one to quietly go away. She would have to fend him off at every turn.