The Bachelor Earl

by Burke, Darcy

  Fanny was Ivy’s younger sister. Just twenty, she’d come to live with Ivy after Leah was born and would have her first Season in the new year.

  “I haven’t seen her since she went for her walk,” West said, frowning.

  That would have been hours ago. Though Aquilla had only been here a few days, she already knew the household routine and Fanny went for a walk each morning.

  Ivy looked outside where fat snowflakes fluttered to the already-white ground. “It’s been snowing for over an hour.” Her face creased with concern. “If only I hadn’t been ill and...” She scowled at West who sat beside her on one of the settees. “I should’ve noticed she wasn’t home.”

  West clasped her knee. “She’ll be fine, I’m sure. Sometimes she gets distracted, particularly if there’s an animal involved.”

  “That’s my concern. What if something happened? What if she’s trapped in the snow?” Ivy stood, her concern blooming into stark worry. “It will be dark in a few hours.”

  West got to his feet beside his wife and stroked her back. “Don’t work yourself into a dither. It isn’t good for the baby.”

  “That’s true,” Andrew said. “Alex hates it when Lucy’s agitated.”

  “Not that baby,” Aquilla said before realizing she perhaps not to have said that out loud. “Oh!” She clapped a hand over her mouth and sent Ivy and apologetic look.

  “It seems I am with child again,” Ivy said without releasing a bit of her stress. “But I’m fine—or I will be fine once Fanny is home safe.”

  “Then let us go and fetch her,” West said before pressing a kiss to Ivy’s temple. “Come lads.” He motioned for Andrew and Ned to join him, which they did with alacrity.

  “I’ll be back soon,” Ned murmured. He kissed Aquilla quickly before departing.

  “I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to her,” Ivy said.

  Lucy went to her friend and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “They’ll find her.”

  “Maybe I should go with them.” She started toward the door, but Lucy tightened her hold and Ivy swung her an irritated stare.

  Lucy narrowed her eyes. Of the three of them, she was the most likely to impose her will—and be successful. “You’ll do no such thing. You need food after this morning’s events, and you need to rest. We insist.” She looked over at Aquilla who nodded in agreement.

  “I’ll ring for tea and we’ll wait.” And pray, Aquilla silently added.

  * * *

  Fanny glared at the rabbit hole but quickly acknowledged she was angry with herself, not the tiny animal she’d foolishly followed through the copse and up the hill and over an icy stream.

  Blast, she was an idiot. She’d seen the rabbit hunkered down near a tree. It had seemed to be shivering, and so she’d decided to scoop it up and take it home before it succumbed to the elements. But as soon as she’d moved close, the animal had scampered away.

  Satisfied the rabbit would be fine, Fanny watched it run until it stopped. Then it sat down and began to quiver again. That had started what seemed to be a game of cat and mouse as Fanny went after it, and it ran away then stopped again. Over and over until it had disappeared down its hole.

  “Well, I suppose I did see you safely home,” Fanny muttered. “You’re welcome!”

  She pulled her woolen cloak more tightly about her and looked up at the muted sky as the first snowflake struck her square on the nose.

  “Oh, to be that snowflake,” a masculine voice rent the quiet, drawing Fanny to spin about toward the source of the sound.

  A tall gentleman lounged against a tree as if he frequented hills in the middle of a snowstorm with careless ease. Er, possible snowstorm. Fanny squinted her eyes toward the heavens once more and wondered just how far from Stour’s Edge she’d strayed.

  “Miss?”

  There was that voice again, reminding her that the snow and her unknown location were perhaps not her most troubling problems at present.

  “I’m on my way home—to Stour’s Edge,” she added hastily.

  A single dark brow arced into an upside down V as he pushed away from the tree and sauntered toward her. “I see. You must be the Duke’s bride.”

  “I am not.”

  The man’s dove-gray eyes flickered with appreciation as his gaze slid over her. “I see. How nice.”

  Was he flirting with her? Fanny had next to no experience with that. Mr. Duckworth had tried such nonsense with her, but his efforts always seemed far more...lascivious. She would forever thank her sister from saving her from certain doom. Without Ivy inviting her to come live at Stour’s Edge, Fanny would have undoubtedly found herself the next Mrs. Duckworth. The third, in fact.

  Best to just let this gentleman know she wasn’t the sort of woman he might think. “I’m afraid I’m not adept at flirting, nor do I have any interest.”

  “Was I flirting?” He moved closer. “I didn’t intend. But I never do, and then a beautiful woman happens across my path and I simply can’t help myself.” His lips curved into an arresting smile.

  Fanny’s breath caught. He was the most handsome person she’d ever clapped eyes on. And he was looking at her as if he maybe thought the same thing about her.

  Except, he’d just said he flirts with all beautiful women, which meant this wasn’t a singular event for him, as it was for her. And really, she wasn’t beautiful. Far from it. She had freckles and her lips were too full, as her mother was fond of pointing out. “You’re definitely flirting,” she said warily.

  “And you are on your guard. As you should be. You’re a bit far from Stour’s Edge, however. Are you certain that is where you are from?”

  He doubted her? Actually, perhaps it was best that he did. This was a scandalous encounter, and it would behoove her to keep it from becoming known. Which meant she couldn’t tell anyone about it, and she didn’t want him telling anyone about it either.

  “I think I’ll just be on my way.” She turned from him and started down the hill. She made it about twenty feet before she stopped and frowned. She had absolutely no idea where she was going. Blast it all.

  “Are you lost?”

  The question came from far too close behind her, and she jumped. She quickly turned and backed up at the same time, moving quickly and without care for her location near the top of the hill. Just enough snow had accumulated that she slipped.

  And tumbled down the hill.

  She landed in a heap at the bottom, her eyes closed and her body smarting from rolling over a few times on the way down.

  “Hellfire!”

  The proximity of his deep voice made her open her eyes. The concerned, yet still unbelievably handsome, face of the stranger hovered over hers.

  “Are you all right?” he demanded, his gaze darkening to the color of iron.

  Fanny moved her fingers and toes. “I think so.” Her backside stung most of all, and she was acutely aware of the frigid temperature of the ground beneath her. “It’s quite cold down here.”

  He knelt beside her, but quickly clasped her waist and pulled her to stand, rising to his feet in front of her. “Better?”

  And now she was acutely aware of his hands on her and the delicious, almost entirely foreign sensation of being held.

  She quite liked it.

  “Yes,” she said rather breathlessly, realizing she sounded like a ninnyhammer and not caring in the slightest.

  “I insist on seeing you home.” He looked up at the sky as the snow seemed to be falling in larger flakes than it had just five minutes before. “Where is that?”

  She was cold and now wet, and for some reason she felt safe with him. “Stour’s Edge.”

  He gave a firm nod then wrapped her arm over his. “We’ll walk briskly. If you can.”

  She nodded then wiped at the dirt and grass that seemed to cover her cloak. He helped her, his hand moving over her hip and then her backside. The moment he made that contact, their gazes connected.

  “Sorry,” he murmu
red before averting his gaze.

  They walked in silence for a few minutes, a hundred questions tumbling through her head and an equal amount of sensations coursing through her body.

  He glanced over at her, a snowflake landing on his dark lashes and melting almost immediately. “I know we haven’t been properly introduced, but it seems we should take care of that.”

  “It’s a bit scandalous, isn’t it?”

  “No more so than my caressing your backside.”

  Caressing. Oh dear. Those hundred sensations doubled.

  “I’m Frances.” She decided it was best to just keep things simple. He didn’t need to know she was Fanny Snowden, sister-in-law to the Duke of Clare.

  “I’m David.”

  “Pleased to meet you David.” For all she knew he was a footman at a neighboring estate. She doubted that, however. While her experience with anyone outside her tiny village of Pickering in Yorkshire and its environs was limited, she could tell he was Quality. Or at least good at mimicking it.

  “What brought you so far from home?” David asked.

  “Providence, thankfully.” She realized belatedly he didn’t mean that home. She blamed the fact that she’d just been thinking of Pickering. Though she’d been at Stour’s Edge for nigh on six months, apparently she could still think of her lifelong home as home.

  He gave a soft laugh. “Because you met me?”

  Now she realized how that may have sounded. “No, I didn’t mean that. I meant... Oh, never mind. I am abysmal at polite conversation. I’ve almost no experience with it.”

  “Are you in service?” he asked, voicing about her what she’d just been thinking of him.

  She seized on the opportunity to mask her true identity and have a way to explain why he couldn’t escort her to the house. “Yes, I’m a maid.” She looked at him askance. “What about you?”

  “In service?” He started to shake his head but then stopped. “Not precisely. I’m serving as apprentice to a steward.”

  “That sounds exciting.”

  He turned his head toward her. “Indeed?”

  “Oh yes. To be responsible for so many things... You must be quite intelligent.”

  He shrugged. “My father always told me so.”

  “My father always told me I was a featherbrain.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” He said this with utmost certainty. “Although, you did wander far from home in a snowstorm.”

  “It wasn’t snowing then, and I was trying to save a rabbit.” She exhaled. “I’m afraid I’m terribly soft-hearted when it comes to animals. My father also told me I was far too kind. Once, he made me abandon a litter of puppies after their mother died.”

  David gasped. “That’s atrocious.”

  She nodded, glad for his support. “Yes, but I sneaked back out to where they were and rescued them anyway. One of the neighbors had a dog who was almost finished nursing her pups, and she was more than glad to adopt the four little babies. Ironically my father took one of those dogs several months later, never realizing it was one he’d left for dead.” She shook her head. “He loved that dog more than any of us, I think.”

  “What an astounding tale. I would say you have a kind heart, not soft. There’s a difference, I think.”

  She swung her gaze to his. “Do you?”

  “I do.”

  They stared at each other a moment before she tried to trip over a rock. He caught her, his free hand clasping her hand while he gripped her arm. “All right?”

  “I’m also rather clumsy.”

  “Then allow me to assist you over the stream, though I gather you made it across by yourself earlier.”

  They’d arrived at the slender, but swift-moving brook. “It was a miracle, really.”

  He laughed then withdrew his arm from hers. “I’ll go first and help you.” He leapt over the water with ease, and she decided she could watch him do that a thousand times. In her mind’s eye, she would.

  He held his hand out to her. “Ready?”

  She clasped his appendage, and he brought her over the stream with a fluid grace she didn’t possess on her own. “I bet you’re a fine dancer,” she said.

  He grimaced. “Barely passable, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m quite good. That is one area in which I seem to possess adequate agility.”

  He chuckled. “A maid who dances and rescues animals. You are a treasure, Frances.”

  Heat rose in her face, but she suspected her cheeks were red from the cold and was relieved he couldn’t see her blush.

  He tucked her arm over his once more and they started on their way, keeping up their rapid pace. “Do you often get lost?” he asked.

  Only when she struck off in a new direction and then only sometimes. Snowstorms were particularly helpful if one wanted to lose their way. “No, but then I just left home for the first time less than six months ago.” She wished she hadn’t revealed that much. But he was so easy to talk to.

  “You’re new to your employment then?”

  “Yes. What about you?” she asked, hoping to divert the conversation away from herself lest she bore him with the story of her life. “What are you doing out in the middle of a snowstorm?”

  “I’m afraid I was just taking a walk. Then I saw you running up the hill, and I was curious.”

  “So you followed me?”

  “Guilty.” But the look he cast in her direction didn’t reflect even a tinge of regret.

  She was glad and more than a little...tantalized. “Well, I suppose I must be grateful since without your help I would be lost and cold.”

  “But dry. I can’t imagine you would have fallen without my intervention.” Now she detected a dash of remorse.

  “That’s a nice theory,” she said wryly, “but I did tell you I was clumsy.”

  “I suppose we’ll never know,” he mused. “Come, let’s move a bit faster or we’ll both be soaked to the skin.”

  She had a sudden vision of him in clothing that was plastered to his muscular, athletic frame. Muscular? Yes, she could tell from his arm and the way he’d lifted her effortlessly from the ground and assisted her across the stream. Athletic? Evidently given how quickly he’d made it down the hill after she’d fallen and the fact that he hadn’t lost his balance as she had. Besides all of that, she had eyes, and she could see he was broad-shouldered and long-legged.

  “Do you often go for walks?” she asked, thinking he must.

  “Every day. At least once. Like you, I have an affinity for animals. In my case it’s birds.”

  “Indeed? What are your favorites?”

  “It’s very hard to say,” his response was solemn, as if he were deeply considering her question. “I find myself drawn to birds of the marsh—it’s their long legs and long beaks, I think. There’s something very graceful about their composition and demeanor. Avocets are beautiful. As are godwits.”

  “I know next to nothing about birds.” But she suddenly wished to correct that and planned to scour West’s library for every book on ornithology she could find.

  “I could teach you,” he offered softly.

  It was the nicest, sweetest, most alluring offer she’d ever received.

  Too bad she couldn’t accept. He was a steward’s apprentice, and she was the sister-in-law of a duke destined for a grand Season and probably a marriage to a prince. Or at least a duke. That was what she and Ivy joked about at least.

  Ivy! She had to be worried sick.

  “How far are we from Stour’s Edge?” Fanny asked.

  “About a quarter mile, I should think.” He pointed in front of them. “There.” You’d see it if not for the copse of trees and this damned thickening storm.

  She recognized the copse from earlier and from the walks she’d taken since coming to Stour’s Edge. It was the stream that had taken her off course—she hadn’t yet crossed it, probably because it had been much wider during the summer months after she’d first arrived.

  When they reach
ed the trees, she stopped. “We should part here, I think.”

  “You probably don’t want to be seen arriving with me,” he guessed accurately.

  “I don’t think that would be wise. I’ve been gone too long as it is.”

  “Are you sure you can find your way?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, I’m quite oriented now. I meant it when I said I didn’t usually get lost.”

  “But what about the dancing?” He moved slightly closer. “How am I to know if you can truly dance?”

  “If we meet again, I’ll show you,” she promised, even though she knew that would likely never happen.

  “I’ll hold you to that.” He glanced up at the sky, blinking. “It really is snowing hard. You should go.”

  “I should.”

  And yet neither of them moved. They stood there facing each other, arms still clasped, cloaked in white, seemingly alone in the world.

  “Pity there isn’t mistletoe,” he said softly.

  Oh, he wanted to kiss her!

  Good, she wanted him to kiss her too.

  She edged closer until they almost touched, chest to chest. “Let’s pretend there is.”

  He pitched his head toward hers, and she closed her eyes just before his lips touched hers. They were cold but soft. His arms came around her, and he held her close.

  The kiss continued, awakening all of her senses and arousing them so that to her mind there was just him and her and the snowy quiet enveloping their secret embrace. When his tongue licked along her lips, she opened for him, driven by curiosity and a sweet hunger she’d never experienced.

  Once inside, his tongue met hers, and he coaxed her fully, showing her what it meant to really be kissed. She’d always wondered, and now she knew.

  It was over far too soon, and the cold that he’d banished from her for a few, brief minutes came rushing back, reminding her that she was cold and damp and needed to get inside.

  He brushed his gloved fingertips along her cheek. “I refuse to say good-bye, so I’ll just say, Happy Christmas.”

  She refused to say good-bye too, even though she knew it was. “Happy Christmas.”

  Then, before she could lose her courage, she turned and fled.