The Earl’s Wicked Seduction: Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Ella Edon

  He looked at her so strangely that she turned away. "Well – I must be going," she said, a little breathless. "The family will be waiting for me to bring home whatever I find."

  Adam sat up a little straighter. "Get in. I'll have you there in no time."

  She caught her breath. Trying to think, she ran her fingers over the soft upholstery that lined the inside of the cart. "Oh – well – I'm not sure – "

  "Get in before Woodlark gets tired of standing here, and you'll have to catch him just like you caught Starling on the night of the ball." He grinned, showing his white teeth, and opened the little door at the back of the car. "It's not the landau, but it will get us there, all right."

  Grace knew she would not be able to make herself walk away from him. It was a beautiful day, she knew this man from two other occasions, he was connected with Worthington, and it was perfectly harmless to ride with him into town in a little governess car.

  "Thank you," she said shyly, and climbed into the back of the car. She sat down on the bench that ran along the right side, turning a little sideways to face forwards, while Adam sat across from her doing the same.

  "Go on, Woodlark," he called, with a click of the tongue, and the pony broke into a jog as they rolled down the road into Birdwell.

  The main street was pleasantly busy this morning, on Market Day. Adam kept Woodlark jogging all the way through the town. When they went past Fabrics, Feathers & Fineries, Grace stole a quick glance and then turned away.

  She was actually relieved to see no one near the shop, not knowing for sure how Aunt Betsey and Uncle Leonard would feel about her riding in the car with Adam. But, she had met him twice before and he was simply showing her where to find the market. Surely there was nothing wrong with that.

  The little car rolled past the end of the row of shops. Where the building ended, there was a wide swath of grass between the street and the Feathering River. Grace was delighted to see that right now it was covered with makeshift wooden tables and stalls, where it seemed that a little of everything was for sale.

  "Here you are miss," Adam said, touching his flat driving cap as he halted the pony near the edge of the road. "Right on the doorstep of your destination. A fine cab ride, don't you think?"

  "The best, the best!" she laughed, and stood up with her basket. "I thank you so much. It was a lovely ride."

  "Well, then! Glad to know it, glad to know it. But it's not over yet."

  Grace opened the little back door and stepped down to the road. "Not over?"

  "Of course not! What sort of cab only takes you one way?"

  "Ah – all cabs?"

  He chuckled. "Well, not in Birdwell. You see, out here we always take you out and back again. Wouldn't think of stranding a young lady at the market!"

  "Oh, but I'm not stranded. I can walk home in half an hour from here, and be surprised if it took that long."

  "No need to walk. You go now and find your dried meat and fish. I suggest Mr. Herron and his wife, there in the back corner. They'll have what you need."

  "Mr. – Adam – "

  "I'll take Woodlark here for another turn or two up the main street, to let him see a bit of the town sights, and then I'll be back to meet you right here."

  "That is – very kind of you." She knew it would be of no use to say anything more. He had a very firm way of arranging things, as though he were used to telling people what to do without question.

  "Good! Go, now. I'll be back before long." He walked the pony in a wide circle and headed back down the street, saluting Grace by touching his cap and giving her a grin.

  She took her basket and began walking through the marketplace, unable to hide her own smile at his kind attention.

  Never before had Grace known a man like him. To her, he seemed as handsome as a king and just as sure of himself. Having spent her life in the company of both servants and nobles, if she hadn't known better, she would immediately have pegged him for a man of noble birth and breeding.

  But of course, he wasn't. He must have simply picked up a few airs from his years of driving noble families as their coachman. And his charm— he seemed to know exactly what to do and say to make a woman feel happy to be with him. He must –

  With a shock, Grace stopped walking. Surely a man who possessed the charm and looks of Adam Wheeler would not be alone in the world. Surely, he had a lady somewhere – or even a –

  Trying to breathe, Grace continued walking and made herself look at all the wares for sale. If this man was married, or otherwise engaged, she intended to find out about it before she was back at Applewood Cottage this morning . . . before she allowed herself to fall into this any deeper than she already was.

  The market was actually a delight. Grace wanted to make a point of bringing her mother with her the next time, for the two of them would certainly enjoy wandering around together among all the tables and stalls.

  One section seemed to have several stalls with rough woolen cloth and different colors of yarn, as well as a few items of clothing already stitched together. Some was new and some was clearly old and mended, but Grace intended to keep it in mind for her ever-growing brothers.

  The other section, nearer the river, offered fruits, vegetables, potatoes, ground flour, and cones of brown sugar. There were buckets of freshly caught fish and sturdy racks with cuts of beef and mutton.

  And yes, Mr. Herron did indeed have some very good dried fish and dried beef, which he wrapped up for her in heavy brown paper. Her mother always said she could make dried meat go farther than any other kind and Grace was sure she would be pleased with this.

  Her shilling also covered several plump potatoes and even another paper of brown sugar bits for her brothers. With all of her purchases tucked away in the basket, Grace walked back out to the road to look left and right – and sure enough, there he was, sitting casually in the governess car as Woodlark walked along.

  Adam immediately walked the pony towards her. As he pulled up, Adam reached for Grace's basket, swung it inside, and helped her step up through the little back door.

  "Why, thank you," she said, settling herself on the comfortable padded bench. "It was very kind of you to come back for me."

  "Not at all," he answered, sending the pony on his way again.

  Grace prepared for another pleasant drive, this time back to her home, but Adam seemed to be taking the road straight out of town to the south, instead of turning around and going back up the street to the north and Applewood Cottage.

  "Mr. – Adam," she said, glancing worriedly over her shoulder as the pony walked along. "My home is the other way. To the north. On the lane that runs behind the eastern side of the town. It's the little cottage at the apple orchard."

  "I know where it is, Miss Miller. But I’m out driving today to test this new pony. I must make sure that he is safe for the dowager countess to drive. So, though Woodlark did well in the town, I must see how he does at a river ford. There’s one a short distance from here."

  She nodded, looking up at the tall canopy of great oak trees that closed over the road now that they were getting away from the town. "I see," she said. "But I must be getting home. I cannot – "

  "I promise you— I will have you home very soon. I, too, have other responsibilities. And Lady Worthington will be anxious to hear a report of how her new pony went for me today."

  "I see." Grace sat back and smiled at him. "A short trip, then. I cannot be the reason for the countess to miss receiving a full report on her new Dartmoor pony."

  Adam grinned back at her in return. Then he sent Woodlark off at a smart trot on the road heading south, and instead of going home, Grace was riding out of town with a man she barely knew and that her parents and aunt and uncle had never met.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fording The Feathering River

  The next half-hour was spent taking a lovely excursion along the road, under the trees and alongside the Feathering River, and past the many cottages and farms on either sid
e.

  It all looked much like the region near Applewood Cottage, though this land south of the town seemed to be used more for growing crops, while that north of town tended more towards keeping sheep and pigs and a few cattle.

  But all of it was beautiful, and Grace wondered how far Adam would go. She was just about to ask, when they came to a crossroads and he turned to pony towards the river.

  "I remember now," said Grace. "You said you wanted to test him through the ford!"

  "And here it is," said Adam, walking Woodlark towards the wide, shallow, gravel-bottom crossing in the river. "Some horses don't like them at all. Can't see the bottom, you understand. They don't know if it's ten inches deep or ten feet. But they must cross when we say so."

  At first, the pony hesitated, lowering his head in an effort to get a closer look. But Adam picked up a long hazel switch from the floor and tapped him on the rump a few times, and finally, Woodlark moved forward and splashed through the ford with very high steps as though trying not to touch the water.

  Grace laughed at the sight, and then caught herself as the pony suddenly stopped and decided to enjoy a nice long drink of the cool water.

  "Well, I suppose he did earn it," said Adam.

  Then he turned to Grace. "I'm so glad you came along with me today," he said. "It's such a pretty spring day. All the prettier for you being a part of it."

  She began to feel hot and cold all over, all at once. Never had she had any man talk to her in such a way, especially one who had Adam Wheeler's strength and presence and charm.

  "Oh – you can't mean that," she said, very flustered. "I'm just here in my working clothes – not much more than rags – and no jewels or fine dress or pearl decorations for my hair – "

  He smiled very gently, and leaned in close to whisper to her. "Do you think that only jewels and silks and hairpins make a woman beautiful? I can tell you . . . they do not."

  So softly that it was like the touch of a feather, Adam allowed his finger to stroke the side of her face. "It’s the glow that comes from within . . . the glow of womanhood, of honesty, of faithfulness . . . "

  Grace could not move. It seemed that her knees had gone weak and it was well that she was sitting down, for she suddenly felt a rush of heat all through her body as Adam kissed her.

  Never had she known that a man's lips might be so soft, so gentle. She was aware of the scent of him, warm as the sun with notes of sweet hay and fine leather. Without thinking about it, her mouth opened slightly and she swayed a bit as he kissed her again.

  Time seemed to stop. There was nothing but the two of them sitting here in this cart and leaning in closer and closer –

  Suddenly, there was a huge splashing in the water right in front of them. Woodlark was pawing the water, sending sprays of it all over himself and the car and its passengers.

  Adam sat up, laughing again. "Get up, there," he called, slapping the reins on the pony's rump. "I'd better get him moving before he decides to lie down and roll in this lovely cool water. That wouldn’t do us any good, now, would it?"

  Grace was not sure she would ever find the breath to speak again. She seemed to be floating, feeling entirely relaxed and intensely excited all at once.

  Woodlark pulled the car up out of the ford, but Adam took him only a short way down the road before making a wide turn and sending him through the water again, this time at a trot. Grace was finally able to laugh and feel a bit normal again as the splashing sent another spray of cold river water all over them.

  At last, they were out on the road again, traveling towards Birdwell. "I'll take him down the east road, behind the town," said Adam. "You'll be home in no time at all. No time at all."

  He grinned at her, but she only blushed and looked down – mostly to hide her own silly smile. "He's a very fine pony," she managed to say, hoping for some sort of normal conversation. "I think the countess will be very happy with him."

  "I think she will be very pleased, too," said Adam, looking steadily at Grace again. "Very pleased."

  Adam took another crossroads over to the eastern lane, and it was not long before they passed the back side of Birdwell's buildings and then approached Applewood Cottage. Grace could just see the beginnings of the apple orchard behind the little house.

  "Stop. Stop! Stop here!" Hastily, Grace gathered up her basket with the dried fish and meat and the potatoes and brown sugar bits. "I should get out here. I don't want – I don't want them to see – "

  Adam sighed, and halted the pony. "I do not think anyone would object, Miss Miller. A short drive home from the market is nothing to – "

  "I'm afraid it's not something my mother would understand. But I am grateful to you for – for a lovely morning. Thank you."

  "You're welcome. I do hope to see you again," he called after her as she ran.

  Grace had thought it might be easier to think, to breathe, once Adam was out of sight, but that didn’t seem to be the case. All she remembered was the warmth and giddiness she'd felt when Adam had kissed her. That had stayed with her all the way home and it remained with her now.

  But her elation was tempered when other thoughts began to surface – thoughts of how disappointed her family would be if they thought her head had been turned by a man like Adam Wheeler when they insisted that she should have eyes only for Earl Worthington.

  "Grace! Grace! I'm so glad you're home!" cried her mother, hurrying to meet her. "Show me what you have! I hope it's all I sent you for. You've been gone a very long time!"

  Grace managed to laugh. "The marketplace was great fun. I had such a good time looking at all the wares that I'm afraid I stayed there too long. You really must come with me next time!"

  "Why, yes, perhaps next time, next time. But come in now, so I can see what you have!"

  Grace walked inside with the basket, keeping her mother interested in the good dried fish and beef she had purchased, as well as the beautiful plump potatoes and the little paper of brown sugar bits. It seemed that her small ruse had worked, for now, to hide where she had really been and what she had really been doing . . . but Grace realized she would not be able to keep that up forever.

  Somehow, the days went by, and for most of them, Grace felt as though she were walking on clouds. Then, finally, it was Tuesday, and market day in Birdwell once again. She made very sure that there were things the family simply must have, so that she would be required to go.

  "Mother, they have such good potatoes," Grace said, readying her basket. "Those serve to stretch a cut of mutton so very well! I'll get one of those, too – you are so good at cooking it up over the fire and making a sauce for it. We could get several excellent suppers out of that! And the boys have been working hard and behaving well. Surely they deserve another paper of brown sugar bits!"

  "Oh, but Grace, I don't think I can go with you this time," her mother fretted.

  "No? I’m sure you would enjoy it."

  "I'm sure I would. But I must stay with your father. He's been restless lately and I want to walk with him out back, in the courtyard, and then perhaps play cards with him while he smokes his pipe. That always seems to calm him."

  "Of course, Mother. Don't you worry. You take care of him and I'll take care of the marketing."

  "You're a very good girl, Grace. I don't know how we will manage once you are married to the earl and living up at Worthington!"

  For a moment, Grace stood in shock, and then realized that her mother was serious. "Well, I suppose we'll have to see about that," she said faintly, and took up her basket. "I'll be back soon."

  She left the house and started down the road towards Birdwell, more determined than ever to say nothing to her family about her increasing attraction to a mere coachman named Adam.

  The market was just as much fun for Grace the second time as it had been on the first. Since all of her family had worked at Northcliff, they had been allowed to eat whatever was left over in the kitchens and there was always simple soup and bread if that was not enou
gh. She had never really had to shop for food or other goods – the head cook had kept all procurement for the kitchens under jealously guarded control – and she found that she was enjoying getting the hang of it now.

  At least, it kept her occupied and not thinking of Adam every moment of every day.

  This time, as she had promised her mother, she came back with an entire pound of mutton that was only a little dry and tough, along with a dozen fat potatoes. As a special treat for John and Noah, she'd found a bargain on four small pieces of sugared ginger.

  All of it was tucked away in her basket and she was about to leave the marketplace to return home, when a tall form caught her eye, but he was walking up from the river side of the market and not from the street.