Mysterious Miss Channing (Ranford Book 3)

by Nadine Millard

  Any chance she’d had of a quiet, peaceful sleep had been well and truly obliterated from the second she’d bumped into Ranford in the hallway.

  If the bizarre conversation that followed hadn’t been enough to keep her awake, the explosive kiss afterwards certainly was.

  She had wondered briefly if the man was actually a bit mad before deciding that if he was, then she certainly was. For he had gone from charming to angry to seductive in the space of mere moments, and she had loved every second of it.

  His charm made her giddy, his anger awakened a fire in her that she had thought entirely quenched, and his seduction, well that, she could admit to herself, was her favourite.

  Julia had not even tried to sleep when he had finally ended their kiss, and she had turned and run to the safety of her bedchamber.

  What was she doing? She knew that nothing could or would ever happen between them. She knew that even if he could lower himself to marry the daughter of a country baron of no consequence, it would never be her. After all, he didn’t even know her real name.

  A short knock on the door revealed the downstairs maid who had attended her the day before. Molly, it turned out, was the girl’s name, and she brought a morning cup of chocolate to Julia.

  Truly, she was being treated as though she were a member of the ton!

  The thought made Julia wonder what it would have been like if her mother had lived. If her father had been normal. If he hadn’t made that unholy agreement with Lord Larsden.

  But what-ifs were no good to her now. Besides, had things been different, it would have made no difference where Charles was concerned. Yes, she would have come to London, but she never even would have met Charles’s family, let alone gotten close enough to have him kiss her.

  Molly began to open the drapes, and Julia sipped at the chocolate and berated herself for her ridiculous thoughts.

  She barely knew the man, for heaven’s sake. How could she be thinking this way? Besides, she had enough to worry about today. Mr. Trent would be calling, and she would have to concentrate all her energies on maintaining a pretence of interest in his rambling stories.

  Julia dressed quickly and went downstairs to try to convince the dowager not to release her from her duties. Although, duties was a gross exaggeration.

  She found the dowager, the countess, and Ranford in the dining room and, as was becoming custom, her heart danced and her stomach fluttered at the sight of him.

  “Good morning, Miss Channing,” he said, his eyes blazing with bright blue fire, his lips forming a sardonic smile. “I trust you slept well.”

  He had to know that she hadn’t slept a wink because of him, and the knowledge awakened in Julia a rebellious side that she did not know existed.

  “Like a baby, my lord,” she answered sweetly. “I find the quiet, uneventful evenings here so conducive to a good night’s sleep.”

  She allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction as his face fell at her words.

  Taking her seat at the table, she smiled serenely at the ladies and allowed their animated chatter to wash over her. It felt good to think she’d won a little battle of sorts.

  The feeling, however, did not last long, for soon the conversation turned to Mr. Trent.

  “I hope you will not be too cold on your drive with Mr. Trent this afternoon, my dear,” the dowager said, glancing out the large window to the frosty scene outside.

  “I am sure I will be quite well, your grace. Please do not worry,” answered Julia kindly, though her heart sank at the prospect.

  The countess and the dowager had decided to spend this afternoon making baby things for Rebecca’s second child, and since Julia wasn’t terribly good with a needle, she would have had the whole afternoon free to do as she pleased. She probably would have attempted to read but spent the afternoon daydreaming about Charles Ranford; but still, at least her time would have been her own.

  “Well, we must make sure he does not keep you out for too long, lest you get a chill,” said the countess.

  “For your own sake, Miss Channing, I hope you will be utterly freezing.” This from Ranford, of course. Who else would say something so outrageous or so unpleasant?

  “Charles, really,” his mother admonished. “How can you say such a thing?”

  “I am only thinking of Miss Channing’s welfare, Mother. Perhaps, if she is very cold, her teeth will chatter so loudly they will drown out the noise of Trent’s boring monologues.”

  Julia laughed partly from shock, partly from amusement at the wicked comment.

  The ladies were quick and vocal in their censure, but Julia rather thought he had a point.

  After the world’s most insincere apology, Charles excused himself to get on with estate business. He bid them all a good morning, his eyes lingering on Julia’s before he swept from the room.

  Julia wished she were going with him. Well, perhaps it wouldn’t be so very bad with Mr. Trent. He seemed a decent man, kind, and a vicar with good standing. If they did marry, she could be happy here. Away from the prying eyes of England and away from the risk of seeing someone that knew her.

  No, it might not be so bad at all.

  IT WAS WORSE THAN bad. It was terrible. Mr. Trent had begun to tell a story about forty minutes ago about his horse slipping a shoe. And Julia, who had never wished another living creature ill in her life, was feeling very much like the horse’s demise would have a silver lining in that Mr. Trent would stop bloody well talking about it.

  She was swearing, too! She, who never, ever swore.

  The man was driving her to all manner of bad thoughts.

  Mr. Trent told her he had ever so kindly decided to take the long route into the village to give Julia a chance to see some of the surrounding countryside.

  After about three minutes, Julia no longer cared about the surrounding countryside, a shame since it was really very beautiful.

  Now, after they’d been into what really was a lovely little village and Julia had been introduced to a number of people, they were visiting the church.

  Julia’s spirits lifted. At least there she could pray for deliverance. They entered the church, and Julia’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness.

  It was beautiful inside the chapel, peaceful and still with a little illumination from candles placed in stands around the pews.

  They walked around the small church, Mr. Trent explaining a little of its history and his own work there.

  Mercifully, the church was small enough that the tour did not take long. Julia wasn’t sure she could withstand any longwinded explanations about architecture or weekly sermons.

  Once outside again, Mr. Trent assisted Julia into the gig, and she prepared herself for her ears to be assaulted on the ride back to Ranford Hall, when a shout sounded behind her.

  With a mixture of relief, excitement, and nervousness, Julia watched as Lord Ranford approached them.

  “Good afternoon, my lord,” Mr. Trent said deferentially though he did not seem overly pleased to see Charles. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I have come on behalf of my mother, Mr. Trent,” said Charles, though his eyes raked over Julia in intense assessment before turning back to the smaller gentleman. “An invitation to dine with us at the Hall. If tomorrow night suits?”

  Mr. Trent’s face flushed with pleasure, and he grinned, thanking Charles profusely.

  Charles barely acknowledged the effusive thanks before interrupting him altogether and speaking to Julia.

  “You must be terribly cold, Miss Channing.”

  “Er, yes, a little, Lord Ranford.”

  “Come, it does not do for you to be out in this weather. I shall take you home.”

  Julia’s eyes widened at the statement. Surely he did not mean to whisk her away from Mr. Trent? The thought was appealing in more ways than one, but it would be unspeakably rude.

  “Oh, my lord, I was just going to take Miss Channing back now,” said Mr. Trent. “I—”

  �
��Well, I’ve saved you a journey then, haven’t I? It makes no sense to have us all going in the same direction and you having to come back. Immediately,” said Charles sternly, the look in his eyes assuring Mr. Trent that he was not welcome to stay at the Hall after he’d escorted Julia home.

  Mr. Trent, the poor man, looked torn and a little green at Charles’s tone. He clearly wanted to escort Julia home but did not have the courage to defy the earl.

  And who could blame him, thought Julia. Charles towered above most people, and Mr. Trent was no exception. Mr. Trent was of a slight build, Charles was broad-shouldered, and, she knew from personal experience, his body was hard and muscled and felt strong as steel.

  Her face began to flush at the mere thought.

  She watched now as the two gentlemen eyed each other. She should intervene, of course. But her desire to be good mannered was outweighed by her desire not to spend any more time than absolutely necessary with Mr. Trent.

  Julia watched the vicar shift nervously under the weight of Charles’s gaze. The man just exuded power. He had an air about him that demanded respect, his tone was low and calm, but there was a hardness in it that brooked no argument. Julia did not expect Mr. Trent to be able to withstand such pressure. And she was right.

  After a moment, Mr. Trent sighed dejectedly and bowed slightly to Charles.

  “You are very thoughtful, my lord,” he said, though he did not sound happy about it. “If Miss Channing has no objections, I will leave you to accompany her home.”

  Julia smiled her first genuine smile of the afternoon.

  “I have no objections, sir,” she said.

  “Right,” said Chares without preamble. “Come along then. Until tomorrow, Trent.”

  “Yes, of course.” Mr. Trent brightened considerably. “I shall look forward to spending the evening in your company, Miss Channing.”

  Julia did her best not to groan aloud as she took her leave of Mr. Trent. She would have to endure an interminable dinner with him tomorrow evening. But for now, she was free.

  CHARLES LED JULIA TOWARD his waiting carriage and refused to dwell on his reasons for chasing after her in the first place.

  He must, he reminded himself, tell his mother to throw a dinner party tomorrow night. He had been unable to think of any reason to be at the church. Saying he’d snuck after them would have sounded odd so he had said the first thing that had come to mind.

  Yes, they would all have to endure the man’s company tomorrow night, but at least he and Julia would be in plain sight then, and Charles could keep an eye on them.

  He watched Julia as they walked toward the carriage, trying to gauge her reaction to being whisked away from Mr. Trent.

  She had seemed pleased, if her smile had been anything to go by. That smile. It had damn near taken his breath away. He resolved to make her smile more, just so he could bask in it.

  “So,” he said conversationally, partly because of curiosity, partly because if he didn’t distract himself from thoughts of her smile and her mouth, he was going to ruin her right here in the middle of the town square. “How was your afternoon with the delightful Mr. Trent?” He heard the sneering in his tone but could not seem to help it.

  Julia turned toward him, and he was trapped by those bewitching green eyes.

  She looked thoughtful as she studied him.

  “Why do you dislike the gentleman so?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

  Well, that was easy.

  “Because I don’t like how he’s been sniffing around you,” he answered bluntly.

  Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. And there he went, thinking about her mouth again.

  “Hardly sniffing around,” she answered, now sounding exasperated at what was beginning to sound like a repeat of last night’s argument. “Why should you care anyway?” she blurted out.

  Her question stopped Charles in his tracks.

  Why did he care so much?

  Yes, he was attracted to her. But so much so that he now had to throw an emergency dinner party to stop her being alone with the vicar? When put like that, it was bordering on ludicrous.

  He bit back an oath of frustration. Her question was making him think things that he did not want to think. Face deeper, more confusing questions that he did not want to face.

  So he fell back on what he always used to get out of any sort of difficult situation: charm and flirtation.

  “I take my job as lord of the manor very seriously, Miss Channing,” he drawled, handing her into the carriage before joining her. “And your angelic disposition and innocence brings out the protector in me. You are under my roof. Therefore, it is only fitting that I should protect your virtue.”

  Julia coloured at his words, and he wanted to grab her and kiss her senseless.

  “My virtue is at no risk with Mr. Trent,” she said, though a little shakily.

  Why the shake? Because of him, Charles? Or because of Trent? The latter did nothing to put Charles in a good mood.

  And just like that, his jealousy raged once again. He didn’t want her thinking about Mr. Trent.

  Narrowing his eyes, he leaned forward.

  “Don’t you understand, angel? Anytime you’re around a man with eyes in his head, your virtue is always at risk.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “MOTHER, I NEED A dinner party.”

  Charles strode into his mother’s private sitting room, glad to see that she was alone. He could only imagine the interrogation he was in for; he did not need or want it worsened by the presence of the dowager.

  “Pardon, my dear? You need a what?”

  “A dinner party,” Charles repeated. “Here, tomorrow night. I do not care who you invite as long as the invitation is extended to Mr. Trent.”

  His speech was met with total silence. Charles, who had spent the entire time staring at a rather boring and overly frilly cushion, refused to meet his mother’s eyes now. He knew they would be shrewd and calculating, and he just didn’t need that in his life at that moment.

  “I must say,” the countess said, rising and walking slowly toward him. “I have never known you to want to socialise before. In fact, I’ve had to force you to partake in any sort of polite society since you came home.”

  Still, Charles refused to meet her gaze, turning instead to study the portrait of the Hall over the fireplace.

  “And, to be frank…” His mother continued, still stalking toward him. “…you have appeared to rather dislike our estimable vicar. And yet, here you are, wanting a dinner party and wanting to invite him. Whatever can have brought on this change?”

  She was standing right in front of him now, and Charles could no longer avoid eye contact.

  He threw up a quick prayer for patience then another one for forgiveness because, well, he hadn’t exactly lived the Christian way these past years, then lowered his eyes to face his mother head on.

  “You have been badgering me to be more interested in the community, and here I am, offering to host a blasted dinner party. Why should you question it?” he asked, hoping to turn the tables.

  “Language, dear” was her only reply.

  “I thought it only right that we at least hold a dinner for the dowager,” he tried again.

  This time, the reply was a raised eyebrow.

  Charles was out of ideas, so they just stared at each other in a silent war of wills. Charles felt beading on his brow.

  Finally, to his vast relief, his mother broke eye contact and moved to sit back down.

  “And Mr. Trent?” she asked innocently, resuming her needlepoint.

  “Well, he is the local vicar, and it seemed only right.”

  His mother simply nodded her head in agreement, continuing to sew before, finally, she raised her eyes to meet his. They looked calculating, and immediately Charles was on his guard.

  “I will make sure that everything is arranged if that is what you wish, my dear,” she said pleasantly.

  Charles thought danger had
passed.

  Clearly, he was a fool.

  “And of course…” The countess went on. “…this is an excellent opportunity for Mr. Trent to continue his attentions to Miss Channing. I must say he was very taken with her yesterday. But then, who would not be?”

  Charles didn’t trust himself to speak so merely nodded whilst clenching his jaw.

  “Rather clever, really…” His mother continued relentlessly. “…to devise a way for them to spend even more time together. And very generous of you, too, my dear.”

  Charles said nothing while he struggled to get his emotions under control.

  Finally, he gave up and, with a slight nod of his head, moved toward the door.

  He stomped out, only to return not two minutes later.

  “Perhaps,” he said as casually as he could. “Perhaps it is not a good idea after all. With Becca and Caro home soon, it would be better to wait and throw a ball. Yes, a ball with lots of people and no intimate dinner chats, and, well, it is a good way to start the festivities, is it not? So, so yes. I think it best if we hold off on any sort of dinner or… or small party.”

  “Nonsense,” the countess said robustly. “We will do both! I must say I am rather impressed at this new attitude to socialising of yours. And matchmaking too,” she finished slyly.

  Charles uttered a muffled oath, which the countess apparently did not have the heart to chastise him for, then spun and stormed from the room without a backwards glance.

  THE COUNTESS CHUCKLED SOFTLY to herself. The dowager had, as usual, been right. She would enjoy watching this play out. Julia was a lovely girl, and, from the sounds of things, she came from a respectable family.

  The Carringtons needed no alliance with a high society member, and Charles was free to choose whomever he wanted as a bride.

  The countess wondered if he’d already chosen without even realising it.

  The next few weeks would be most amusing, she was sure.

  Ringing the bell, she instructed Murphy to bring her stationery. It appeared she had some dinner party invitations to send out.