How to Wed an Earl

by Ivory Lei

  “I will never let Sarah near a monster like you.”

  Mr. Henson paused in the act of grabbing yet another tartlet. “Such spirit. I must say, Miss Maitland, I have never before considered your charms to be palatable. I prefer my partners to be young, but your courage and determination is something I would like to breed into my future children. I am hopeful your sister has inherited those same traits.”

  He made a move to come closer to her, and Penelope held out a hand to stop him in his tracks. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mr. Henson.”

  “Why not? You want to save this house, don’t you?” He licked his lips and walked slowly toward the settee where she was seated.

  She looked at him steadily. “How are you feeling, Mr. Henson? Did you like those jam tartlets?”

  Mr. Henson looked confused. “What do you mean, how am I feeling?” He glanced at the tray, and then back at her as an expression of horrified comprehension took over his gaunt features. “You murderous wench! You poisoned me, didn’t you?” He sank on the chair and started breathing heavily.

  She stood up and towered over him. “Some of the medicines my family makes can be poisonous if administered in large doses. I have the antidote to the poison you just ingested. But you have to take it within ten minutes or it will be too late.” She held up a vial in one hand and a contract in the other. “Are you willing to bargain with me now, Mr. Henson?”

  “You will pay for this,” he choked out.

  “Perhaps,” she allowed. “But you will sign this contract if you want to live long enough to ensure that I pay for my actions. I will not give you the antidote otherwise. Besides, you’ll find the terms are fair for everyone concerned. We pay you back in monthly installments and you get your money back within two years.” She shook the antidote. “This is in your best interest, Mr. Henson. I suggest you act on it.”

  Penelope shoved the contract in front of him and he hastily signed it. Once she was certain everything was in good order, she walked to her stepfather’s desk and shoved the contract in the drawer. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  “The antidote,” Mr. Henson rasped. “You said you would give me the antidote.”

  She turned back to him. “What, this?” She held up the vial again. “This is just lemonade. I did not poison you. You may leave now.”

  “You bitch!” he roared as he angrily strode to her.

  “Take one more step toward my fiancée, and I will make sure you regret it.” The chill in Lucas’s voice from the doorway stopped Mr. Henson in his tracks. She watched Lucas walk into the library with deceptive calm. “Penelope might not have the stomach to hurt anyone, but I will have no trouble beating you to a bloody pulp if you dare to treat my future countess with such disrespect again.”

  The blood drained from the creditor’s face as he looked up at Lucas. “Lord Ravenstone, I didn’t believe you were actually here. Who would have thought an earl would really want to marry a — ”

  “If you are not out of here in two minutes,” Lucas said in a clipped voice, “I will throw you out.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Mr. Henson threw an anxious glance at Penelope and then clapped his hat on his head and started for the door.

  Lucas turned to her, his dark eyes glinting with the sunlight coming in from the window. “Remind me never to refuse bargaining with you, nymph.”

  She felt her blush. Really, all the man had to do was look at her to make her tremble with awareness. It was irritating. “I was desperate, Lucas.”

  “And effective,” he murmured.

  She hesitated, clasping her hands behind her back as she walked to the settee. “Now that the trouble with Mr. Henson is solved, there is no reason for you to stay.”

  “I believe the notion makes you sad, nymph.”

  Penelope looked at him, memorizing his features. She answered him honestly. “It does. I shall miss you, Lucas. I feel lucky to have finally met you, my lord.”

  He barked with laughter and snatched her to him. “Do not fret so, little one. I am staying here. I told you I came here to marry you, and that’s what I mean to do.”

  “What?” She put her hands on his chest. “Besides, didn’t you hear what Henson said? He is still a threat to your safety.”

  He tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes. “I will not leave you to face him alone.”

  She tried to see affection in the dark pools of his eyes, but they merely glinted from the sunlight streaming through the window.

  As he lowered his mouth to hers, it occurred to Penelope that she was becoming used to him claiming kisses, and though she knew it was dangerous to keep letting him do this, she let it happen anyway.

  Because this was temporary. Duty was all well and good, but she wanted none of it in her own marriage. Her parents had married for duty, and it was a disaster; she could not force that on this man. Lucas was not hers to keep, but for a little while, she wanted to know what it would be like to be his as she had dreamed all those years ago. Penelope wanted this memory to keep, to reminisce about in the lonely years ahead.

  So she closed her eyes and savored how good it felt to be in his powerful arms once more, and, as she met his kiss with all the passion and gratitude she felt, she let the dream begin.

  Chapter Nine

  “You are planning to have an affair with him.”

  After stating her conclusion, Mari continued stirring the beef stew she was cooking in The Mucky Duck’s kitchen.

  Penelope watched Mari’s trim back and tried to peel the potato her friend had handed her five minutes ago. As far as Mari’s opinion went, she thought it best to debate that choice of words.

  “I am not planning an affair, exactly.” She peeled another strip. It was not as easy as Mari made it look.

  Mari sprinkled a dash of freshly ground pepper on the stew and gave it another stir. “What would you call it, then?”

  Penelope concentrated on the potato. “A courtship.”

  Mari whirled with the ladle in her hand, pointing it accusingly. “A courtship that won’t lead to marriage! The last I checked, that is called an affair.”

  The heat from the stove in the steamy kitchen felt suffocating. How could spending time in this place be Mari’s idea of fun? The pungent aroma of the beef stew filled the room, and she longed to open the small window for some relief. Her hair clung to her sweaty temples as she struggled with the vegetable. Penelope was uncomfortable and miserable, and she didn’t really want to argue semantics any longer. It was already all she could do to try to ignore the tiny voice in her mind telling her that what she was planning was wrong.

  Lucas said this attraction between them was natural. But while she was still thrilled he’d admitted he was attracted to her, she was unable squelch the feeling that she shouldn’t let him touch her so. Especially when she had no plans of marrying him.

  How many other women had Lucas touched the way he did her? Well, it hardly mattered. He probably wouldn’t tell her anyway, and she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to know. Because no matter the answer, it wouldn’t change the fact that she wanted him. Desperately.

  Now that the trouble with Mr. Henson was over, there was no reason for Lucas to stay, despite his assurances that he was determined to marry her. Unless she gave him a reason. If that was a sin, then she would just have to pray for forgiveness later. She simply couldn’t bear the thought of Lucas leaving yet.

  She resumed her efforts with the potato. “Call it whichever term you prefer. You will not change my mind.” She lost patience with the task and yanked hard, narrowly missing nicking her fingers.

  Mari finally noticed her struggles and took over. “You must peel with the knife pointed away from you,” she advised. “That way, the knife’s sharp edge will be pointing away from your fingers.”

  Penelope squelched a spur
t of annoyance as she watched her friend peel away effortlessly at the dratted potato. There wasn’t a single stain on Mari’s apron, which was supposed to protect her pink day-gown. How could Penelope have a prayer of seducing Lucas when she couldn’t even keep her gown tidy while doing nothing more significant than preparing tuber?

  She scowled at her friend’s pristine profile. “How can you enjoy doing this sort of thing? You know perfectly well one of the staff can take over this task.”

  Mari proceeded to cut the potato into perfect, small cubes. “I am an innkeeper’s daughter. It comes with the territory.” She stopped chopping for the moment. “I will not let you change the subject. You do not want to risk your reputation with this scheme, Polly. Mama says a woman’s reputation is more important than her virtue.”

  Penelope shrugged. “Your mother says a lot of things. It is all well and good for someone like you — who has a reason to protect her reputation — to be worried about it. Everyone knows you have the pick of the entire male population in this county.”

  Mari grunted. “Oh, I have the pick of the lot, all right. I can choose between Martin who is a drunkard, a womanizer like Richard, or a wife-beater like Hamilton. Oh, and let’s not forget the sweet but humorless Melvin.” She gave her a pointed look. “Thanks, but I’d rather have my recipe book published than be a wife to any of those men.”

  Penelope contemplated the stew beginning to boil on the stove. “Oh, but you are a spinster by choice. Whereas, we both know I’ve always been doomed to be like Mad Sally. Even my father knew it. Why else would he have felt compelled to force a betrothal between two children?”

  “What? That is not true! Mad Sally’s world revolves around her cats,” Mari pointed out. “Everyone likes you, and you have not been entirely without suitors. Remember Ethan Banks?”

  She gave her friend a disgusted look. “Everyone likes me because I’m useful to them. I make sure their cattle are healthy, and I take in any unwanted ones.” Her mouth quirked in a humorless smile. “And Ethan Banks told me he wanted to save my bloodlines from the clutches of Raving Ravenstone, then quickly moved on to courting you after he found out I have no dowry to speak of.”

  “He did? I don’t remember him courting me.”

  She rolled her eyes as she got up to open the window. The room had become unbearably stuffy. “He sent you a couple bouquets of flowers, but you didn’t notice them because that was the week of Mr. Farlam’s daughter’s ball, and the whole inn was filled with flowers from her beaux.”

  Mari had the grace to look chagrined. “All I remember from that ball is how your cousin told me that my sort had no business being friendly with a baron’s daughter.”

  “Well, I don’t understand what David’s problem was. Your father owns half of Bouth. And doesn’t David know your aunt is married to a knight?” She wisely refrained from mentioning Mari’s father had also been disinherited by a duke for marrying a barmaid.

  Mari waved a dismissing hand. “In case you didn’t realize, Polly, your cousin’s middle name should be Haughty, not Henry. I hope someone teaches him a lesson in humility one day.” She cocked her head to the side. “But we were talking about you and your dangerous plan to ruin yourself. Let me warn you, your cousin would not approve either.”

  “I do not particularly care what David thinks. He was nice to me when we were children, but apparently being raised by Uncle Hugh has made him as big a snob as his father.” She turned back as the breeze from the window cooled her nape. “I do not intend to grow old without knowing what passion is, and Lucas is the only man I’ve ever wanted to experience it with.”

  “Then why not marry him?” Mari burst out. “You’re engaged to him, and he said himself he came here to marry you.”

  She gave her friend a sad smile. “I don’t want to trap him into a marriage based only on a misplaced sense of duty.”

  “Misplaced?” Mari stood up with such force that the stool nearly turned over. She threw the diced potatoes into the simmering stew with a flourish. “The man is beholden to you. He owes you a marriage!”

  “Precisely my point,” she stated calmly. “He’s living his life trying to make up for all the things his father failed to do, such as secure the family fortune and make sure Lady Olivia was raised properly.” She bit her lip to stop it from trembling. “He deserves a wife who is more than just another item on his list of duties.”

  A look of sad comprehension swept over Mari’s lovely features. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  Her eyes widened in affront. Of course she wasn’t in love with him! She didn’t have to be in love to want to indulge in a passionate adventure before she became too old to do anything but annoy people by pretending to be deaf. Luckily, she was saved from having to answer when Nelson’s incessant barking at the inn’s courtyard drifted through the open window and caught Mari’s attention. “What on earth?”

  She was out of the room before Mari could finish the sentence, grateful for the breeze that came with opening the door. Nelson rarely barked. Something had clearly distressed him.

  She burst out of the inn to find Nelson harassing a burly carter who held a cane. A quick look at the donkey next to him confirmed that he had used it on the poor animal. If Penelope had time to think, she probably would have used a more polite tone and words. As it was, however, she let fly with the first words that came to mind.

  “You bastard! How dare you?” she demanded.

  The man pivoted with an irritated expression. “Listen, missy, I have no time to deal with yer meddlin’. I’ve to get to Ulverston today, and this stupid beast won’t go.”

  Nelson barked again and the man yelled at him, too. “Shut up, or I’ll make ye!”

  When the man raised his cane to hit Nelson, she saw red. She flew toward the man and grabbed the stick with both hands.

  “Look here, wench — ”

  Penelope yanked hard. “Do not use your cane!” She didn’t even manage to loosen it from the man’s grip.

  The man wrested the cane out of Penelope’s grip. “Ye fat, meddlin’ wench!” he yelled. “Ye stay out of me business, or I’ll use this on ye and make ye squeal like a little piglet!”

  “Can’t you see your animal is tired?” Penelope put herself between the carter and his donkey. “You won’t make him go any farther by beating him up.”

  “I can do whatever I want with me own, and that there beast is me own — now get out of the way!” He waved the cane in her direction.

  Fear raced down her spine. If the man had no qualms about beating animals, then he’d feel no remorse in beating her. Nevertheless, she couldn’t let this go on.

  Like most beasts of burden, this donkey had probably served his master with all his strength and ability. And as was the case with many beasts, no one cared when those they served betrayed the creatures’ trust and loyalty. Unlike the donkey, however, Penelope could do something about it.

  “That’s true, you can do whatever you want with your own,” she conceded, then hit the man’s hard head with her palm when he tried to force her out of the way. “But so can I,” she pointed out. “This hand is my own, and if you don’t step back, I’ll hit you again with it.”

  Nelson barked again, taking the man’s attention away from her. The carter took Nelson by the scruff and shook him.

  She could only watch helplessly as the man continued to shake Nelson. “Release him, sir!”

  “Your dog or my donkey, wench?”

  She barely heard Lucas’s calm voice over Nelson’s cries, but his meaning was clear. “How about your apology or your life?”

  The man whirled to see who had spoken, and at the sight of Lucas’s dangerously imposing figure, the carter dropped Nelson without further argument.

  “Good decision,” Lucas drawled, stepping forward. He looked down at the smaller man. “N
ow, apologize to my fiancée. I do not tolerate insults to her.”

  The man swallowed loudly. “I humbly apologize, miss, for any insult.” The man did not even look at her while apologizing. His eyes never left Lucas’s face.

  Lucas returned the man’s gaze steadily. “Are you well, Penelope?”

  “Yes,” the word was barely a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes, I’m quite all right.”

  “Then suppose you tell me what in the living hell you think you were doing!”

  The words were so unexpected that for several seconds she merely stared at him. “What I was doing?” she flared, walking toward Lucas. “I was trying to protect my dog and that man’s donkey.” She frowned at the carter. “You are not going to Ulverston with that donkey today. You will kill him if you do.”

  “But I have to be in Ulverston for the shipment.”

  Penelope dismissed the man’s protests with a wave of her hand. “The inn will provide you with alternative transport.” She felt Lucas’s dagger gaze on her. “But I must have your word that you won’t hurt any horse the inn provides. I’m responsible for their health, you know.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “Go on then. Tell the inn staff Lord Ravenstone will foot the bill. I’ll make sure your donkey is in top health when you return from Ulverston.”

  The blood left the man’s face. “Lord Ravenstone?”

  “Yes, the very same.” Why do people always listen to him and not her? She gave an impatient sigh as she glared at the carter. “Now kindly do as I have bid. And, sir?”

  The man looked questioningly at her. She gave him a small smile before issuing a warning. “If you keep abusing your donkey that way, you won’t have him for very much longer. He is quite old. I assume you can’t afford to buy another?”

  The carter blustered but shook his head.

  She nodded. “I gathered as much. He’s still got a few good years of service left, but he won’t see 1825 if you keep treating him the way you did just now.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And, despite what you think, there is a law against the cruel treatment of animals. If I see you abusing him again, I will take you to court over it.”