To Wed the Earl

by Anthea Lawson

“I’m here.” He folded his arms around her, holding her firmly, gently.

  “Good.” She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “The money – it was Fowler, all along.”

  “I gathered as much. But hush now. We must get you back to the manor. Can you stand?”

  He did not relish pushing back through the hedge and exposing her to those sharp thorns, but if he went first, shielding her with his body, she should be protected.

  “I think so,” she said, taking a deep breath. “My head hurts, but I am otherwise unharmed.”

  “Steady now.” Edward rose, drawing her up with him, then pulled her once more into the shelter of his arms.

  Behind the hedge, he heard raised voices. Had Leticia Davenport shown a modicum of sense for once, and actually gone to fetch help? Squaring his shoulders, Edward backed into the hawthorn. An uncomfortable moment later, he and Miranda emerged into the gardens.

  Lantern-light hit his eyes, making him blink as a small crowd rushed toward them.

  “Edward! Miranda – what the devil happened?” Charlie asked.

  “Fowler. He’s back in the ravine.” Edward tilted his head to the hedge, but his arms were occupied, still wrapped around Miranda.

  He didn’t care what the onlookers thought. That ring in his pocket was going to serve a purpose tonight. Provided Miranda would have him. The fact that she did not protest his embrace was a good sign.

  “I’ll see to him,” Charlie said.

  His lips folded into a grim line, and he beckoned two of the burlier footmen to accompany him.

  “My dear girl!” Miranda’s mother hurried forward. “I’m so worried for you. Are you well?”

  She gave Edward a sharp look, and he reluctantly let Miranda go. She sighed as she stepped out of his arms.

  “I am well enough, mother.”

  “You’re shivering,” Mrs. Price said.

  “Everyone, come back into the house,” Lady Edgerton said. “Edward and Miranda can tell us what occurred, but they deserve to be comfortable while they do so.”

  Leticia Davenport sniffed at the words, and Edward caught her sending a glare full of blades in Miranda’s direction.

  “It was lucky that Edward and I were in the study together,” Leticia said. “Alone. When we heard Miss Price cry out.”

  Damn the girl. She seemed determined to wring a proposal out of him yet.

  “Fortunate that you came upon me there,” he said, “and a moment later could fetch help while I went in search of Miranda.”

  “Inside,” his mother said, gesturing.

  “One moment.” Edward held up his hand. “I want to make something perfectly clear. There was to be a betrothal tonight.”

  The onlookers quieted, and Leticia leaned forward, her eyes gleaming in the lantern light.

  He slipped his fingers into his coat pocket. Miraculously, the engagement ring was still there. He drew it out and held it up, the faceted diamonds winking. Leticia wet her lips.

  “Isn’t this a bit public, darling?” his mother asked.

  “It must be done now,” he said.

  There would be too many innuendos, too much maneuvering, if he did not deal with matters directly. He would not let his chance, his heart slip away into the night.

  Leticia Davenport stepped up, a calculating smile on her face. “Oh, Edward, if you would like to wait, you may be sure of my answer.”

  “It’s not your answer I need,” he said.

  He turned toward Miranda, where she stood in the shelter of her mother’s arm. Her face was pale and strained, unhappiness shading her expression. Did she truly still think he was planning to offer for Miss Davenport?

  Edward went down on one knee, uncaring of the scratches on his skin, the bruises on his knuckles where he had hit Mr. Fowler. None of that was important – only the widening of Miranda’s eyes as he took her scraped hand in his.

  “Miss Miranda Price,” he said. “Would you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”

  He scarcely heard Leticia Davenport’s strangled protest over the thudding of his heart as he stared up into Miranda’s eyes. Everything hung upon this moment.

  The lamplight shone steady and golden around them, and the faint fragrance of roses tickled his nose. His knee was damp. Overhead, the first stars sprinkled across the sky.

  He had never felt more alive in his life.

  Miranda swallowed, and Edward held his breath. His whole body vibrated with a single question.

  Then a sweetness came into her face, a tenderness about her lips, and he knew he was saved.

  “Yes,” she said.

  The syllable resonated through him. Quickly, before she could change her mind, he slipped the ring onto her finger.

  “Huzzah!” It was Charlie, who had returned with leaves in his hair and a satisfied light in his eyes. “High time, too. I was beginning to fear you’d take the wrong path altogether. My deepest congratulations to you both.”

  Miranda looked at Edward, an expression of pure happiness suffusing her features. She used to look like that, he recalled – years ago. Carefree and full of the joy of life.

  Beside her, her mother beamed. Edward rose and turned to his own mother, a kernel of worry in his chest. It was not the outcome she had been expecting.

  Still, her smile seemed genuine. “I am pleased for you,” she said.

  “Well, I am not,” said Leticia Davenport in a shrill voice. “How could you behave in such a dishonorable fashion? It is simply beyond me. Come mother. I cannot bear to stay here another instant.”

  She turned on her heel and stalked away, her exit marred by the fact that she had no lantern and stumbled into a few bushes before she found the door.

  Lady Davenport gave Edward’s mother a look. “Ah, children. They always do what they will, not what we want for them.”

  “And isn’t that for the best?” Lady Edgerton said.

  “You’re not disappointed?” Edward asked his mother in a low voice.

  “How could I be, when you are clearly so happy?” She gave his cheek a gentle pat. “Now, go help escort your betrothed home. Heavens, we have so much planning to do!”

  ***

  In light of Fowler’s actions, Edward insisted the Price family return home in his carriage, rather than their own vehicle. He promised to have his footmen inspect it carefully for signs of tampering and deliver it on the morrow.

  As the carriage turned toward Wyckerly, Miranda rested her head against Edward’s shoulder. The oil lamps let off a faintly pungent scent and the dark blue curtains shut out the night. Her mother and Charlie occupied the bench across from them, and Mother did not seem to think it improper that the earl had his arm around Miranda’s shoulders.

  It did not feel improper – it felt deliciously comforting.

  The ride home had been full of talk about the events of the evening, although she had mostly remained quiet. Her head still pounded at intervals, and she could not quite believe all that had happened – despite the evidence of the ring on her finger. And the even-more-convincing proof of Edward’s arm about her.

  Charlie had described finding Fowler partway down the ravine, his leg twisted beneath him. The footmen had taken him to the local magistrate, where he was currently locked up.

  “It’s a fair guess he was embezzling heavily from the estate,” Charlie said. “Miranda must have been getting too close to uncovering his secrets.”

  “The old ledger,” she said. “He was keeping double-books, and using the older account ledgers to work out how he was going to move and hide the money – I’m sure of it. And I think he sold off one of the smaller holdings, as well.”

  Edward pressed her hand. “We’ll find the evidence, and the money, thanks to you. I only wish involving you in the estate’s business hadn’t proved so perilous.”

  “On the other hand,” Charlie said, “it saved you from marrying Leticia Davenport, so my sister’s peril was worth it.”

  “Now, Charles,” their mother said
, “be kind.”

  Whether she meant to herself or to Miss Davenport, Miranda wasn’t sure. Or perhaps to Edward, who still had a wild-eyed look.

  The carriage slowed as they turned into Wyckerly’s drive. Miranda’s mother gathered her reticule and looked at Charlie.

  “We’ll go in, and give the happy couple a moment alone, shall we?”

  Charlie’s brows rose, and he glanced across at Edward. “Be good to my sister, Edgerton.”

  “Without question, Price.”

  “And you,” Charlie turned his gaze on Miranda. “Keep him in order. I’d hate to be forced to challenge him to a duel before the wedding day dawns.”

  She felt a blush heating her cheeks. “As long as fruit is your weapon of choice,” she said. “But I assure you, I can manage the earl.”

  Though she was not at all certain that she could.

  Beside her, Edward chuckled – an astonishingly dear sound to her ears.

  The driver swung open the carriage door, and Miranda’s family exited. The door closed quietly behind them. She was a bit shocked that her mother so easily colluded to give them a moment alone. Had everyone but herself and Edward thought they would suit as a couple? The notion left her breathless.

  In the quiet warmth of the carriage, Miranda was suddenly, dazzlingly aware of Edward’s solid presence next to her. The Earl of Edgerton had asked her to marry him!

  Had the knock to her head made her take leave of her senses, so that she believed all her vain dreams had become reality? But no, Edward was there, gazing at her with eyes darkened by emotion. The light teased golden glints from his hair, shone on the strong planes of his face.

  “Miranda,” he said.

  Only her name, but it was enough. Her heart opened like a flower unfurling. She turned and slid her hands about his neck, pulling him close. The scent of musk mingled with the night air, and he dipped his head. Their mouths met, heat and hunger and apology all at once.

  She parted her lips and let her tongue touch his. Sparks raced along her nerves at the delicious, forbidden contact. His hands stroked down her arms and skimmed along her sides, brushing the curves of her breasts. Fire sprang up inside her, a sudden, insistent flame kindled at her center. She pressed herself more closely to his broad chest, felt, more than heard, his groan of desire.

  His thumb coasted over the peak of her breast, and she gasped.

  “Wicked man,” she managed, through lips tingling with the imprint of his kiss.

  “Mm.” He drew back and smiled at her, a lazy, roguish smile. “My lady, you’ve no idea.”

  She gently scraped her fingernails down the sides of his neck. “I expect I’ll learn.”

  Passion flared in his eyes, and he took her mouth again in a kiss that seared her to her soul. In a moment, they must pull apart, their two bodies un-melding, but for now she savored every second. The firmness of his muscled chest, beneath his linen shirt and fine waistcoat, his arms hard about her, the demands of his mouth as he swept his tongue in to taste her – she drank him in. She suspected she would never be quenched.

  But the driver was knocking, respectfully yet firmly, at the carriage door. With a sigh, Miranda pulled away.

  “I think,” she said, “marriage to you is going to be wonderful, Lord Edgerton.”

  He gave her a smile that surely had sent the London ladies swooning. “I have every intention of making it so.”

  A pity she had to wait a little longer to wed the earl. Both their mothers insisted on doing things properly – which would mean an extensive guest list and more details than she wanted to contemplate. Stifling a sigh, Miranda let Edward assist her from the carriage. Then, hand in hand, they ascended the stairs of Wyckerly. Just outside the doors, he paused.

  “I believe I’ve neglected to mention a few items of importance.” The lilt in his voice told her she had nothing to fear.

  “Oh?”

  He took both her hands. “I find you very attractive. I admire your mind. You are welcome in my business, and in my life. In short, Miss Miranda Price, though I should have mentioned it earlier, I love you.”

  She stared up into his face, tears dazzling the corners of her eyes.

  “Despite the fact you are reputedly a scoundrel,” she said, “I confess I love you in return.”

  “Perhaps you might like to add that to the pages of your diary,” he said, a teasing tilt to his lips. “Just so there’s no confusion.”

  At that, she laughed. The night breeze fluttered her skirts, Edward’s hands were warm over hers, and the sweet smell of some dark-blooming flower suffused the air. Her soul shivered, like a wild bird freed, then took flight, soaring into the perfect, star-bedecked sky.

  ~THE END~

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  Anthea also writes YA Urban Fantasy as Anthea Sharp. Check out her top-rated FEYLAND series – where high-tech computer gaming meets the treacherous magic of the Realm of Faerie.