About an Earl (What Happens in the Ballroom)

by Diana Lloyd

  “It seemed an appropriate solution. After all, you did kiss me.”

  “You kissed me.” When he said he’d come calling that morning, he meant that he’d petitioned her uncle for her hand in marriage. Marriage. What had she done?

  “I’m absolutely certain you kissed me back. Do you deny it?” He snapped the reins to urge the horses back into motion.

  “I don’t recall.” He didn’t really want to marry her, did he? He didn’t even know her. She might be a terrible cook or poor with a needle as far as he knew. Maybe he had smelly feet or snorted snuff like a fiend. They didn’t know each other.

  “Not your first kiss then, eh?”

  “That’s none of your business.” Her traitorous cheeks blushed hot. She would never admit to another living soul how far she’d ventured beyond kissing with Eldridge. Her future husband would find the truth of it on their wedding night. Until that moment came, she couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. It hadn’t exactly been memorable. Well, most of it anyway.

  “On the contrary. If we are to be wed, it would be every bit my business.”

  “What’s my other option?” He would not force her, of that she was certain. She needed time to sort it all out. She’d ask her father and wait until his reply before doing anything so drastic. She would make Winchcombe see the logic of waiting.

  “We post banns and wait the customary three weeks.”

  “So much has happened so quickly. I can hardly concentrate with all that has transpired this past day. You are very kind to rescue me from that coach, but I need time to think things over.” Without her father’s advice, or money, all she had in quantity was time. Getting a letter to her father and receiving his response would take months, and procuring her funds might take weeks. She had no choice but to control the hours of each day until they added up to an answer.

  “Give the word and I shall run down the coach again and see you safely to…where was it you were going?”

  “A place called John O’Groats.”

  “Oh dear.” He pulled an exaggerated face. “That’s the teetering edge of the known world. They really did want to get rid of you, didn’t they?”

  “I’m a danger to the successful marriage prospects of my cousins Lady Edwina and Lady Udele,” Julianna said, parroting one of Aunt Hester’s admonishments.

  “Your auntie is the biggest danger to their marriage prospects. Although, I will say, you do kiss like a dangerous woman.”

  “You mistook a kiss of gratitude for one of danger.” What was dangerous was this conversation, and yet it made her smile. Whether her attraction to him was borne of desperation, boredom, or loneliness, it would not go unaddressed. What good had her heart ever done her? For her father’s sake, she had to have the strength to deny it.

  “In that case…” Winchcombe dropped the reins and pulled her into his arms. “I share your gratitude.” She didn’t pull away, didn’t want to. When he angled his lips over hers, she leaned in to them. Wrapping her arms about his neck, she breathed him in, savoring the raw, solid manliness of him. In other circumstances, on another road, in a land across the ocean, it would feel right to lose herself in him.

  “We need to stop this.” Kisses were promises, and she didn’t have any to offer. Forcing herself to move away, only to lean over to press her lips against his cheek one last time, shivers of delight danced up her spine. Lord Winchcombe was as dangerous to her as her uncle but in a completely different way. “It’s a preposterous practice to expect a man and woman to marry just because they’ve been seen kissing. Think of all the kisses that happen in the dark, away from Society’s demands.”

  “I said something quite similar to my brother just the other day.”

  “A person should get to know another person. That takes time and…”

  “Courtship?”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding enthusiastically. “Time and courtship and getting to know each other.”

  “And yet time isn’t something we have in surplus.”

  “Free of my aunt and uncle, I have all the time in the world.” Only that wasn’t quite true. She had two or three months of limbo ahead of her. After that, who knew?

  “We have until nightfall. Once we’ve spent the night together without a chaperone your reputation will be beyond ruined and you’ll have no other choice but to marry me.” His voice was flat, matter-of-fact, and she struggled to interpret how he felt about it. Honor-bound and dutiful or, could it be that he wasn’t at all adverse to a matrimonial solution? Only time, which he had so helpfully pointed out they were short of, would reveal the answer.

  “How long until nightfall?” With the traveling coach out of sight, there was nothing but the winding ribbon of brown rocky road stretched out before them. She hadn’t anticipated this wrinkle. Stupid of her to conveniently forget Society’s demands when figuring a plan.

  “Another hour, two at the most.”

  “You’ll just have to be on your best behavior,” she said, even though it was her behavior that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

  “You’re the one who’s an authority on kissing.”

  “We’ll tell people that I’m your distant cousin from the colonies,” she offered. The ruse would give her time to sort out her options as she waited for her father’s letter.

  “A distant cousin from the colonies that I have never once spoken of or corresponded with?”

  “Yes. Because I’m distant. And from the colonies.”

  “It might work,” he finally agreed. “But it doesn’t solve your chaperone problem. Winchcombe Abbey is another day’s journey, and we’re going to need to spend the night somewhere. Even a distant cousin from the colonies wouldn’t travel without a lady’s maid or companion of some sort.”

  “I’ll hire someone.” Bold words, she knew, from a woman who had no money. Clutching her bag close, she was reminded of the letters within. Surely one of them mentioned the money her father had provided for her and how she might get her hands on it. She’d pay Winchcombe back. Every penny.

  “Someone?” Winchcombe laughed. “Look around you, we’re in the middle of nowhere. There isn’t another living soul around for miles. We are quite alone, Jewel. There is no one else.”

  “What about her?”

  Chapter Four

  What the hell? Oliver heaved the reins, bringing the carriage to a shuddering stop. Were his eyes deceiving him? Not ten feet away, a lone figure stepped out of the woods into the road. It was divine intervention. It was…a witch?

  Whoever she was, she was unconcerned by their presence along this lonely road and approached with a smile. She had teeth, but it was her only redeeming feature. Hair, unbound and knotted, surrounded her head like a bird’s nest. Her clothing was a riot of patterns stitched together in a crazy quilt patchwork of stripes, dots, and flowers.

  “Well.” Jewel tugged at his sleeve. “What about her?”

  “Her?” He looked back to the strange woman and shook his head. “We don’t know her.”

  “I don’t know you, either, but you’re all I’ve got.” Not waiting for his rebuttal, Jewel climbed down from the carriage.

  Oh, hell. He’d give the old maid a growl and see how long it took her to scream and run away. It was for Jewel’s own good. He jumped down from the carriage and pulled a frown at the hag. “Hmm.”

  “You lost, guv?” Her smile never wavered, and she stood her ground. This woman was made of sterner stuff than the women of Town. “If yer lookin’ for the North Road, yer a bit off.”

  “Thank you,” Jewel chimed in, pushing him aside. “We’ve had a change in our travel plans and need to find a place for the night. Would you know of anywhere nearby?”

  “That depends on which direction yer going.” The walking puzzle situated herself next to Jewel and they both looked to him for a response.

  “Gloucest
ershire. Winchcombe Abbey.” Oliver supplied the answer begrudgingly.

  “This gentleman is the Earl of Winchcombe and I’m his cousin from Boston, Jewel Latham.” Jewel extended her hand to the woman. “Might I know your name?”

  “Elvy. Name’s Elvynia but mostly I’m called Elvy.” She managed a respectable curtsy with a head bob that, to his relief, didn’t produce any unhatched eggs. “Nearest inn would be east of here a bit in Biggleswade, milord.”

  “That’s the opposite direction of where we need to go. Anything to the west?” Without his brother to navigate, Oliver was at a distinct disadvantage out on the open road. He hadn’t ventured off Winchcombe land in more than ten years. He was at the mercy of this stranger, and it wasn’t reassuring. His reasons for becoming a recluse were not serving him well now.

  “Bletchley, then.” The woman nodded and pointed to the west. “’Tis no but a wide spot in the road, but there’s a family there what takes in travelers. With fine horses such as these,” she said, reaching out and patting the flank of the animal closest to her, “shouldn’t take no more than an hour or two.”

  “Perfect.” Jewel turned to him, beaming. “I think our problems are solved.”

  “I’m sure this person has places to go, a home to be returning to.” Sparing a nervous glance at the stranger, Oliver motioned for Jewel to join him as he walked to the far side of the carriage and pretended to check the harness. “A word, please.”

  “I’ll just ask her,” Jewel protested. “There’s no harm in asking.”

  “Yes, there is,” he said. “She might say yes.”

  “Please.” Jewel leaned over and whispered into his ear. “I’ll pay you back every penny of her wages somehow. I swear it. I just need time to get a letter to my father and hear his reply. He would not have sent me here without funds. I have to figure out how to get them.”

  “It’s my coin, I’ll do the negotiating. If she wants the position, she shall have it.” Perhaps he was mad. It had been madness to chase down a woman he barely knew simply because she’d kissed him and he suspected her uncle of malfeasance. And here he was, strongly considering taking on another pitiful soul and offering to pay her for his trouble, too. He fancied himself a hero.

  He’d been heroic once before and wore the evidence of it plainly on his face. Would this effort end as poorly? The possibility hadn’t been enough to stop him from donning a mask, working his best horse into a froth, and chasing down traveling coaches all morning. Because of a kiss. No, it wasn’t just the kiss, he told himself. Their lives were entwined by the letters, he was sure of it.

  Once she understood the hopelessness of her situation, he’d broach the subject of marriage again. It would be easier to tell her of her father’s imprisonment than it would be to explain the logic of his becoming her legal protector. Until then it was foolish to think Jewel would consider marriage to the likes of him a viable solution to her problems. But without marriage there was nothing to stop Dunwoody from making the inconvenient colonial relative disappear into the Scottish mist.

  “Madam,” Oliver addressed his prospective employee. Elvy was sorting and arranging the contents of her basket on a square of oilcloth spread out on the ground. Early spring mushrooms, acorns, and bundles of leaves and moss were organized into neat piles.

  “Aye, milord.” One by one the bundles were gathered up and rolled back into the oilcloth.

  “My companion and I…”

  “Cousin,” Jewel corrected. “I’m your cousin.”

  “My cousin and I,” he continued, “were wondering if you knew of someone who might be seeking occupation.”

  “Doing what?” Elvy hugged the basket to her chest and stepped back from the road, eyeing him suspiciously. “Not saying I’m not interested, just saying I’d like to know the nature of the situation first.”

  “Of course.” Oliver tried to smile in a way that the woman would find reassuring. It was a challenge he wasn’t sure he was up to. “My cousin, Miss Latham, finds herself in dire need of a companion. Someone to serve as chaperone during her visit to Winchcombe Abbey and who would be willing to serve as her lady’s maid for the duration of our journey.”

  “Does it pay?” Elvy looked back and forth between him and Jewel, sizing them up. “I’d need lodgings.”

  “Two guineas per quarter, meals and lodging included.” The offer was low but he hoped she needed what little coin she might come by.

  “Three,” Elvy countered. “And cloth.” Plucking at her skirt to illustrate her point, she explained, “Yer castoffs. I get first dibs for the cloth and leave to peddle what I can’t use.” The canny old girl had him over a barrel and knew it. She might have asked for five guineas and he would have paid it. After all, without marriage, Jewel wouldn’t be in his care long enough for him to have to settle a years’ wages on the woman.

  “Agreed.” Oliver turned to Jewel. “Meet your new maid, cousin.”

  “Thank you.” Jewel rewarded him with one of her perfect smiles. He’d miss them when she left but had every intention of enjoying them while he could. Working together, they would get to the root of why her father’s letter and his father’s letter were held so close together in Dunwoody’s machinations.

  “Ladies.” Oliver motioned to the carriage. “Shall we away?” Before he could offer an arm, Jewel and Elvy helped each other up to the seat. Any notion he might have entertained of having the servant ride rough atop Jewel’s trunk faded as the two new women in his life sat side by side on the bench, leaving him a small square of real estate to the far edge of the leather pad next to the seat rail.

  As Elvy, Jewel’s new maid and his living road map, pointed the way to Bletchley, Oliver flicked the reins to begin their journey. When he awoke this morning, he had not, in even the wildest recesses of his imagination, considered that his day would draw to an end with a wild woman and a new colonial cousin crowding him from the driver’s seat of his own carriage.

  “Is your cottage along the way?” he asked Elvy. “We should gather your things and bid your farewells quickly so that we can be on to Bletchley.”

  “Ain’t got no cottage, milord, and no one to wave any goodbyes to.”

  “But,” Jewel asked, “Where do you live?”

  “In the woods, mostly,” Elvy said. “When it’s cold and damp I take up where I can. Most folks are kind enough to let a body wait out the night in a stable or shed. I don’t steal, I’m no sneak thief. I always asks permission, I do, and I pays as I can with herbs and medicinals I find in the forest.”

  “Is there no one, madam, that you might wish to inform of your departure?” Her resilience was impressive. How similar might his life had been had he been the son of a common crofter rather than a peer.

  “Me husband, Davey, he died near on three years ago now. He was a tailor, a fine one, too. That man could craft a waistcoat fit for the king. I made do a bit after he died. My brother, Rob, he lived with us, but when things got rough, Rob said he weren’t ever meant to be a burden to my old age, so he off and joined his majesty’s navy. Not sure where he is now. Rob can’t write more than his own mark, and I never learned to read anyways, so, not much use in trying to keep up with each other.”

  “I’m sure he’s well and happy,” Jewel said, patting Elvy’s hand. Oliver could offer no such reassurance. With war brewing in the colonies, it was likely her brother would soon be in the thick of it.

  True to Elvy’s reckoning, the road widened as they neared Bletchley. As the sun kissed the horizon, a once-grand Tudor manor rose up from the dirt at the crossroads. The stout oak beams showed their age, but the roof was freshly tiled, and the yard showed signs of recent tending. If his face didn’t scare off the owners, they might be able to spend a comfortable evening there.

  “Do you know the occupants well?” Considering his tendency to frighten strangers, it might be best to send Elvy to smooth the way for ne
gotiations.

  “I’ve traded here.” Elvy grabbed up her basket, jumped down, and ran to the house just as the door opened and a head popped out. Oliver could not hear their exchange, but it lasted long enough to be encouraging. There was pointing, nodding, and smiles that surely must portend a favorable outcome. To Oliver’s surprise, Elvy opened her basket and unwound the oilcloth to reveal her spoils.

  “She’s trading everything she has so that we may sleep indoors this evening,” Jewel said, placing her arm on his sleeve. “I haven’t so much as a penny to add and she is giving her all.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Jumping down from the carriage seat, Oliver made quick work of joining the negotiation. “I am quite willing to offer payment for your hospitality for the night.”

  “’Tis all settled up.” Elvy waved him away as she surrendered her basket to the person at the door. “But they’ve family visiting and have but one bedroom to let. I can take up a pallet on the kitchen floor.” Elvy looked down to the ground at his feet before continuing. “If you aren’t of a mind to share a blanket with yer cousin, the lady of the house says that you might take the bed in the carriage house just yonder.”

  “Please offer my kind regards to the lady of the house. The carriage house will suffice.” The carriage house, which looked to be a few centuries newer than the main house, wouldn’t be the worst place he’d ever slept. “I’ve my own blanket stowed under the seat of the carriage but would be most obliged if you might be able to procure some writing supplies and a candle or two.”

  “Aye. I’ll bring you some supper, too.” Elvy nodded her head toward Jewel, still sitting in the carriage, hands folded in her lap. “Once I have yer cousin settled.”

  “Thank you. She needs looking after.” Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out a few coins. “For the paper and ink,” he explained. “And whatever you might need to make sure my cousin has a restful evening.”

  “No worries, milord. I don’t turn my back on someone who does me a good turn.”

  “Thank you, again.” It was an odd feeling to be thankful for kindness. He was generally thankful for anonymity, for not being stared at or pointed at. Kindness was an unfamiliar concept. But he’d best not become too accustomed to it.