The Earl's Prize (Harlequin Historical)

by Nicola Cornick

  ‘It is most kind of you, my lord.’ Amy passed him the remainder of the pile of provisions. ‘I am persuaded that Nurse Benfleet will be very grateful. We must not stay long, however. I did not tell Mama what I was doing and I simply must be back before evening or she will be fretting herself to flinders.’

  She felt Joss’s gaze upon her and willed herself not to blush. There were several practical reasons why she had not told Lady Bainbridge of the trip to see Mrs Benfleet. Firstly was the undeniable impropriety of driving to Windsor with Joss, even with a groom in attendance. Amy had considered this, but had decided it could not be allowed to matter. Mrs Benfleet had been ill and needed her help, and that was the most important thing. Then there was the fact that her mother had warned her not to see Joss any more. Amy knew that this would not be possible beyond the end of the week, for their move to Nettlecombe was now fixed for the following day. Selfishly, she wished to make the most of her time with Joss before then, storing up the pleasure of his company against the future.

  As Joss helped her down from the curricle his touch was impersonal and he took his hand away at once. Amy deliberately avoided looking at him. The worst of her self-consciousness had faded now, for Joss was treating her in exactly the same way as he had done before that fatal night in Lady Carteret’s garden. He was charming but somehow remote.

  Amy had been first relieved at Joss’s attitude and then, once she had overcome her shyness, she had been frustrated. Inside her something had changed, her feelings had shifted, and when she looked at Joss sometimes and caught him looking at her, she thought he must feel the same. Yet there was a reserve in his manner that told her more plainly than any words that he would not kiss her again, that he would not come any closer, and Amy, to her shock, found that she wanted to shatter his cool resolution.

  She picked up the pile of blankets and made her way up the stone-flagged path to the door of the cottage. Joss had dismissed the groom to take the curricle to the nearby inn until it was needed, and he followed her with the hamper in one hand and the medicines in the other. Amy smothered a smile. She had to applaud the uncomplaining way in which Joss had accepted the terms of the debt. It was difficult to imagine such a man visiting orphans or attending charitable lectures under any other circumstances. Yet he had accepted it all with a good grace.

  ‘Miss Amy! Whatever are you doing here! Bless my soul, what a surprise!’

  Mrs Benfleet, a round, motherly body in a white apron and lace cap with lavender ribbons, looked understandably surprised but pleased to see them. She hugged Amy warmly, then ushered them hospitably inside. The cottage was spartan but clean as a new pin and its ceiling was so low Amy feared Joss would hit his head on a beam.

  ‘I am much better, thank you,’ Mrs Benfleet replied, in answer to Amy’s anxious questions about her health. ‘That last package of medicine you sent was just the trick. Pure poison to taste, so I could tell it was doing me good!’

  ‘You always used to say such things to me when I was a child,’ Amy said, smiling.

  ‘Yes, well, look at you! It must have worked. You look as fresh as a flower, child!’

  Amy saw Joss smiling and blushed. ‘I am sorry, I forgot—this is a…a friend of mine, Bennie. Lord Tallant—Mrs Benfleet.’

  Amy saw Nurse’s eyes open very wide as Joss took her hand. ‘My word, Miss Amy!’

  ‘Yes, well, anyway…’ Amy hurried on for sudden fear that Mrs Benfleet was about to comment on either Joss’s title or his indisputable good looks or possibly, even more embarrassingly, ask his intentions.

  ‘We cannot stay more than a few minutes, Bennie, nor do we want to tire you out, but we brought you a few more bits and pieces to help pick you up. Some honey and some tonic wine—’

  ‘I should be mortally offended if you don’t take a bite of luncheon with me,’ Mrs Benfleet said. ‘There’s a nice ham in the larder, and bread and apples and milk enough for three.’

  Amy cast a quick glance at Joss under her lashes. It was impossible to imagine him sitting down to any kind of repast in this cottage.

  ‘We really must not—’ she began.

  ‘A splendid idea, Mrs Benfleet,’ Joss said, smiling. ‘Thank you very much. May I help you with anything?’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ Mrs Benfleet said approvingly, leading the way into her tiny kitchen. ‘You go out into the garden, Miss Amy,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘It’s nice and warm over by the apple tree.’

  Amy went. The pocket-handkerchief of a garden had a bench against the south-facing wall and it was hot with summer scents and the buzzing of bees. She sat down and closed her eyes. The sun beat against her closed lids. She could hear the murmur of voices from the kitchen. So Joss was actually speaking to Mrs Benfleet, not merely helping to carve the ham or to carry things for her. Amy frowned a little. Perhaps she had been unfair to Joss in imagining he would feel awkward or out of place in such a setting. Whatever his other faults, snobbery was not amongst them.

  ‘Over there, if you please.’ She opened her eyes to see Mrs Benfleet advancing with a loaded tray and Joss carrying a table, which he placed in front of them beneath the apple tree.

  ‘I was just telling your young man that he ought to try my homemade cider.’ Mrs Benfleet beamed, handing the tray over as Amy hastened to grab it from her. ‘Oof, that’s better!’ She subsided on the bench. ‘Sometimes I forget I’ve been poorly and try to do too much. Move up, Miss Amy! There’s room for three!’

  Amy shifted along the bench so that there was space for Joss to sit down. It was a tight squeeze and she was acutely conscious of the press of his thigh against hers. Once or twice his hand brushed hers as they passed the food around. Mrs Benfleet was chattering now, regaling Joss with stories of Amy’s childhood. The sunshine, Joss’s proximity and, most of all, the cider were all starting to make her head swim. She yawned widely, and then jumped, opening her eyes wide. It would never do to fall asleep. ‘Oh, pray excuse me!’

  ‘You sleep if you want to, my lamb,’ Mrs Benfleet said comfortably. ‘I’m sure your young man will help me to tidy all away when we’ve finished.’

  ‘He is not my young man,’ Amy said sleepily. She turned her head and her hair brushed Joss’s shoulder. Suddenly the urge to rest her head there seemed overwhelming. She straightened up quickly.

  ‘Is there anything else that you need me to send you, Bennie?’

  ‘No, my pet, you’ve been more than generous.’ Mrs Benfleet smiled mistily. ‘Though where you found the funds for it I just don’t know!’ She turned to Joss. ‘A crying shame it’s been, my lord, to see Miss Amy scrimp and scrape to make ends meet in that house—’

  ‘Bennie,’ Amy said pleadingly.

  ‘I know I speak out of turn,’ the nurse said defiantly, ‘but it was a shocking thing, my lord, the way that Miss Amy was dragged from pillar to post by that papa of hers. How Lady Bainbridge tolerated it, I’ll never know! But that’s marriage, I suppose. For better, for worse. I’m fortunate that my Sam was nothing if not steady, God rest his soul! That was my idea of a marriage—good companionship! Ah, well.’ She hauled herself to her feet and bent to kiss Amy. ‘You doze out here for a while if you like, Miss Amy. I’ll be going in for my rest now, but I do thank you for coming.’

  Amy watched through closing eyes as Joss carried the lunch tray back inside. She felt a very strong resistance to going back to London. The warmth and the peace of Mrs Benfleet’s garden were so soothing after the bustle of the city. Perhaps it would not be so bad to return to Nettlecombe after all. She had always loved the country…

  ‘Amy?’

  Amy opened her eyes. She thought that it was the breeze touching her skin, but now she realised that Joss was crouching down next to her and that he had brushed the hair away from her face with gentle fingers. For a moment she stared into his eyes. Such tenderness…And as she stared, she received a revelation as shocking as a dousing with cold water.

  The afternoon sun struck across Joss’s face, ligh
tening the amber of his eyes. Amy seemed to see him in extraordinary detail. His hair, slightly windswept, was the deep, dark red of autumn leaves, thick and glossy. He narrowed his eyes against the sun and she could see the shadow of his eyelashes, spiky against his cheek. He smiled again and Amy’s heart seemed to skip a beat then start to race, so that the blood tingled around her whole body and all her senses tightened with anticipation. In that second, Amy realised that not only did she desire him with a longing that was as shameless as it was strong but that, more importantly, she loved him, and that everything else seemed to dwindle into unimportance in comparison.

  She looked at him for what seemed like hours whilst the exultation swept through her and left her shaking, then reality returned and she blinked and sat up hastily. Somehow, she had no recollection of quite how, she had slid down on the bench and had been dozing with her head against the armrest. Her bonnet was all squashed and her face felt hot.

  ‘Oh, Mama will be beside herself! I have been out in the sun for hours without my parasol!’

  Joss traced the line of her cheekbone with one finger. ‘You certainly look a little pink. Perhaps you will get freckles—’

  Amy gave a squeak. She was not vain, but better that he should suspect that than think that she was red in the face because of his touch.

  ‘I suppose we must go back now.’ She started to stand up and Joss put a hand under her elbow to help her rise.

  ‘Yes, indeed. If you would care to wait here, I shall go to the Rising Sun to fetch the phaeton.’

  ‘No,’ Amy said, remembering that there was something she needed to tell him. ‘I will walk with you. It will help me to wake up.’

  They went back through the cottage. From upstairs came the rhythmic sounds of Mrs Benfleet snoring. They exchanged a look like conspirators and tiptoed out.

  They walked a little of the way down the track to the village in silence. The sun was still high and Amy tried to keep into the dappled shadows. The birds were calling in the trees and the road was dry, baked hard in the sun. Joss strode easily along beside her. Amy smiled as she thought about the gentlemen of fashion who tottered about St James’s, leaning on their sticks, complaining if they got a speck of dirt on their boots or if the breeze ruffled their neck cloth. Joss was not like that. Whatever his debauchery amounted to, it had hardly affected his physical or mental condition. There was a tiny frown between his brows and he seemed abstracted and Amy remembered that he had said he did not like the country. No doubt this bucolic sojourn was exactly the sort of thing he did not enjoy.

  ‘Thank you for bringing me here today,’ she said hesitantly. ‘It was very good of you, for I recall that you do not enjoy the country.’

  ‘It is simply that the country has held few attractions for me in the past,’ Joss said. ‘The hunting and shooting is all very well, I suppose, but I have always valued the entertainments of town above such things. Perhaps I was mistaken, however. It is very beautiful here.’

  The warm breeze feathered across Amy’s skin. ‘I meant also to thank you for your kindness to Mrs Benfleet. I had no intention of staying for luncheon—indeed, when she invited us I thought that you would surely refuse—’

  She broke off. Joss looked amused.

  ‘My dear Miss Bainbridge, you have a very poor idea of my manners!’

  Amy frowned. ‘Yes, but there is a difference between accepting something because one’s manners are good and accepting with a good grace, with genuine willingness, if you like…’ She bit her lip. ‘Oh dear, I have offended you—’

  ‘Quite right. I like Mrs Benfleet enormously and it was no great effort of will on my part to stay and enjoy luncheon with her. Why should you think otherwise?’

  Amy made a slight gesture. How to convey to him that the thought of a Corinthian like Joss sitting down to lunch in a cottage garden was quite absurd?

  ‘I suppose…because it would not be your choice of entertainment…I thought—’

  ‘You assumed that I was a snob.’ Joss’s tone was even. ‘Admit it, Miss Bainbridge.’ He smiled. ‘I believe that, paragon of virtue that you are, you may actually be at fault here.’

  There was a pause whilst Amy wrestled with herself. ‘I suppose so. I beg your pardon.’

  Joss’s smile broadened. ‘It does not matter. You will know me better in future.’

  Amy’s heart sank a little. That gave her a very neat opening to tell him of the plan to go to Nettlecombe and the fact that they would not be seeing each other at all in the future, but just for now she did not wish to spoil things. The day had been so enjoyable, warm and bright, with Joss’s sole company to enjoy, and she was loath to spoil it.

  ‘I suppose that it was rather improper of me to request that you escort me here today,’ she said slowly, following this train of thought out loud, ‘but Mrs Benfleet has been ill and I wanted to visit her…’

  ‘And it was easier to ask me than to hire a carriage.’ Joss was laughing. ‘Besides, this whole week has been an education for me, Miss Bainbridge, as well as an opportunity for you to start using your lottery money to do good!’

  Amy’s eyes flew to his. She stopped walking. ‘I do wish you would not say things like that! I told you before that I had no wish to improve you. It is not my place to do so. Anyway, I have the oddest feeling that I will find that you already give away half your income to charity, or that you fund schooling for rescued climbing-boys and have simply not told anyone.’

  The smile vanished from Joss’s face. ‘You are quite mistaken. In fact, as usual, you give me too much credit. I have been a selfish creature all my life and have never done anything to oblige anyone else. I beg you not to think so.’

  Amy frowned. ‘You have been very obliging to me this week.’

  Joss’s expression softened. ‘That is different. I have a duty to repay my sister’s debt and…’ his gaze lingered on her face ‘…I find it very easy to be obliging to you, Miss Bainbridge. I think that I would probably do anything you asked of me.’

  Amy caught her breath. The blood fizzed beneath her skin as though she had heatstroke. She dragged her gaze from his and started walking again, quite quickly.

  ‘I must tell you, my lord, that the end of the debt tomorrow coincides with my departure from town,’ she said. ‘Mama intends for us to remove to Nettlecombe. She is most upset by the fuss that there has been about my lottery prize and would prefer to withdraw from town altogether.’

  Joss caught her arm to slow her down. ‘A moment, if you please, Miss Bainbridge. May we discuss this properly rather than on the run?’

  Amy reluctantly slowed. There was a disused field gate to the left-hand side, beneath the shelter of a spreading horse chestnut tree. She drew into the shade and leant against wooden bars. They felt sun-warmed against her back.

  ‘What do you wish to discuss, my lord? It is a foregone conclusion.’

  ‘I see. Lady Bainbridge wishes to run from the speculation and you are humouring her?’

  Amy blushed. ‘For my part I would happily face it out, but Mama is not made of such stern stuff. She has been made very unhappy by all the gossip and she feels that if we were to go to Oxfordshire the scandal might fade away.’ Amy shrugged. ‘It seems a small price to pay to make her happy and I have always loved the country.’

  ‘I see,’ Joss said again, in an odd tone. ‘So, we are not to meet again.’

  ‘I suppose not.’ Amy put out a hand. ‘It is probably for the best. This debt has caused a great deal of talk—almost as much as the lottery win—and it will be good to let the gossip die down.’

  Joss’s gaze was intent on her face. ‘Do you mind all the talk?’

  ‘No, but then I am always being told that I have no society sensibility. Where there is no smoke I cannot see that there can be a fire.’

  ‘Yet I suppose I must bear some responsibility.’ Joss shifted slightly. ‘I accepted the debt and caused a great deal of talk, all for the pleasure of your company, Miss Bainbridge.’

>   Once again Amy felt her heart leap. ‘Indeed, you have been so very obliging, my lord.’

  ‘So you said already. Well, as I have discovered the country anew today, perhaps I should come to visit you at Nettlecombe. Would you invite me, Miss Bainbridge?’

  Amy gave him a small smile. ‘Yes, of course.’

  She could not believe that Joss would venture as far as Oxfordshire just to visit her. Why should he? With all the sophisticated delights of the town about him he would soon forget their rather strange association.

  ‘So this is to be our final enterprise,’ Joss said, with a slight smile. He leaned one hand against the top of the gate and smiled at her. ‘As this is probably the only privacy we shall have before you leave, I want to tell you that I have enjoyed your company very much, Miss Bainbridge, and shall be sorry to see you go.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord.’ The sunlight falling between the shifting leaves was bright enough to make Amy blink. She swallowed hard, surprised by a sudden empty feeling inside. She felt small and lost. This was ridiculous. Here was Joss taking a light and charming farewell quite in keeping with their relationship, and here was she wanting…what? If only she had not tumbled so disastrously into love with him. In some ways it had been inevitable given the attention that he had paid her and yet in others she had thought herself quite safe. Intent on disapproving of him so heartily, she had barely noticed as her censure had slowly given way to enjoyment of his company. From there innocent delight had slid into something deeper and she was utterly lost.

  ‘I hope that I have…ah…fulfilled all the duties required of me,’ Joss continued. The sun was in Amy’s eyes and she could not see his expression. ‘If there is anything I have failed to do, then you have but a little time to rectify the omission.’

  ‘Well, I…’ A picture flashed through Amy’s mind, a vision of the garden at Lady Carteret’s ball. ‘There is one thing.’ Her voice sounded strange even to her own ears. She cleared her throat. ‘You could…kiss me goodbye.’