Mysterious Miss Channing (Ranford Book 3)

by Nadine Millard

  Oh, hang the cold, she thought. She just wanted to feel pretty for once.

  Rebecca wasn’t up to walking a great distance, not after their recent journey, so she and Edward decided to stay behind; Edward even more enthusiastically when he realised that it was Henry’s nap time, and he would have a couple of hours alone with Rebecca.

  He leaned down and whispered something in her ear, but by the gleam in his eyes and the blush on her cheeks, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was saying.

  Tom’s eyebrow rose, and he looked at his wife.

  “Are the twins napping, darling?” he asked, grinning wolfishly.

  Caroline smiled a secret smile that Julia felt was far too intimate for her to be looking at.

  “Afraid not, my love. In fact, I told Nurse that we would take them along.”

  Tom’s shoulders slumped in defeat. But he rallied soon enough; everyone knew he was the very picture of a doting father.

  As they were about to leave, however, Nurse came dashing toward Caroline.

  “My lady,” she gasped, her rotund body heaving with exertion. “Miss Sophia doesn’t seem terribly well. Nothing too bad, but I don’t think a trip into the village will help. She’s not settling.”

  Tom and Caroline shared a look of concern before making their excuses and dashing off to the nursery.

  “Do you think the baby is all right?” Julia asked in alarm.

  “It’s not the baby. It’s Caroline and Tom we should be worried about,” said Rebecca with a laugh.

  At Julia’s questioning glance, she continued.

  “They have what’s known as new parent disease. Makes you overreact terribly to every tiny thing. They’ll have that poor nurse harangued now.” She shook her head, still laughing.

  “Sweetheart, wasn’t it you who made the doctor move into Banfield for three days when Henry developed a cough?”

  Rebecca stared at him coldly before turning and stomping away.

  Edward swore softly then turned to them with an apologetic grin.

  “Hormones,” he said as though that explained everything. Which it probably did.

  “You’re in trouble now,” said Charles delightedly.

  “Oh, I have my ways of softening her up. In fact, I—”

  “Dammit, Edward, no,” Charles bellowed. “Not about my sister.”

  Edward grinned unrepentantly then dashed off after his wife.

  Julia watched them go, trying not to feel to envious of their open and obvious love, then turned back to find Charles watching her with the kind of look that made her positively melt.

  “So, I get you to myself,” he said with a smile.

  Julia smiled back, anticipation and something far more intoxicating pooling in her belly.

  “Yes, I suppose you do,” she answered.

  “Come along then,” Charles said, guiding her out the door. “Before anyone else comes along. I—”

  “Ah, Miss Channing. You are back.”

  Julia had heard her fair share of swear words living under her father’s roof, but at that moment Charles produced some that she wasn’t even sure had existed until just then.

  They both turned to see Mr. Trent marching toward them.

  He stopped at the bottom of the steps to the Hall and gazed up at her.

  “You look different,” he said, his tone complimentary but strangely accusing.

  “Yes, a-a new gown.”

  “Well, it’s very nice,” he said, still in that strange tone.

  “Thank you.”

  There was an awkward silence as Julia looked between the two men. Mr. Trent had, intentionally or not, very rudely ignored Charles. And Charles was looking as though he was thinking of inventive ways to kill the vicar.

  “We were just going out, Mr. Trent,” Julia said. She knew that really she should ask him to walk with them, but she didn’t want to.

  “Ah. I had wished to speak with you.”

  “About what?”

  Julia turned to gape at Charles’s audacity. What a question!

  Mr. Trent finally looked at the earl.

  His face flushed to an alarming shade of red, but he kept his chin up, weak though it was.

  “I’m afraid the matter is quite private, my lord.”

  Charles smirked at the smaller man.

  “Is it? Well, I’m not sure I can allow men to accost a young woman under my protection for private conversations, Mr. Tuft.”

  “It’s Trent, my lord,” the vicar answered stiffly.

  “What is?”

  Julia smothered a giggle.

  Really, she shouldn’t laugh at Charles’s outrageous behaviour.

  “My name, my lord,” Mr. Trent said, and Julia felt sorry for the poor man. He had starting sweating again. He really should see someone about that.

  Charles merely shrugged, seeming every inch the conceited lord.

  “Well, we won’t keep you,” he said, giving Mr. Trent a steely glare.

  Julia watched in fascination as Mr. Trent wilted before her eyes.

  His complexion paled, and he suddenly looked like a puppy who’d been kicked.

  She felt desperately sorry for him. He was a good man, if a little — well, pompous.

  She made to step forward and ask him to join them, but Charles gripped her hand and gave it a squeeze, so she stayed where she was. Partly because she had no desire to have Mr. Trent join them anyway, and partly because as soon as he touched her she was completely under his spell.

  “Well, I won’t delay your outing. But, if I may be so bold, Miss Channing, would you do me the honour of saving the first dance at the ball for me?”

  Julia’s eyes widened. She had absolutely no desire whatsoever to dance any with him, let alone the first. People were sure to assume there was an attachment given the hours she’d spent helping him at the church.

  “I—”she began but was cut off by Charles.

  “I’m afraid Miss Channing has already agreed to dance the first with me, Mr. Truant.”

  “It’s Trent,” the other man hollered before getting a hold on himself and realising just who he was roaring at. “M-my apologies, my lord. I do not know what came over me.”

  Julia glanced at Charles and saw, to her surprise, sympathy on his handsome face.

  “She has that effect on people,” he said softly, and her heart thundered in response.

  Mr. Trent nodded his agreement then took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow.

  Julia’s heart went out to him again. He deserved happiness with a woman whose heart didn’t belong to a man such as Charles Carrington. Who on earth could compete with him?

  “My second dance is free,” she said firmly. After all, pleased as she was that Charles felt proprietorial over her, though she’d never admit that, she wasn’t his property, and she was perfectly entitled to make her own decisions about who she danced with.

  Mr. Trent beamed at her.

  “Thank you, Miss Channing.” He recovered his pompous air. “And the dinner waltz—”

  “Is taken,” interrupted Charles again, suddenly looking steely and arrogant once more.

  Julia sighed inwardly.

  She had often heard that women’s emotions changed erratically, but here were these two men jumping from miserable to friendly to arrogant to angry in the space of a five-minute conversation.

  Mr. Trent seemed to sense that he was pushing the earl a bit, so with a short bow to Charles and a rather lower and more dramatic one to Julia, he took his leave. But not before turning back and reminding her that there was still work to be done at the church for the carol service and nativity.

  Charles watched him go before turning to Julia.

  “What an odd little creature,” he said.

  She merely giggled in response.

  “Do you want to dance with him?” he demanded.

  “Not particularly, but, well, I felt sorry for him.”

  “Why on earth would you feel sorry for him?” Charles asked,
leading her in the opposite direction to the one Mr. Trent had gone.

  “Well, he’s a good man, I think. Mostly harmless. He’s just—”

  “A damned nuisance,” Charles finished for her.

  “Yes, well. He is a little — er — overenthusiastic but—”

  “You know he’s going to propose?” Charles asked angrily.

  “I know no such thing,” she answered calmly. “And even if he does, though I dread to think of it, I shall have to tell him as gently as possible that I cannot marry him.”

  “Obviously,” Charles scoffed.

  At that, Julia stopped walking and turned to face him.

  They had come to the path along the wall of the formal gardens. At the end of the wall was a gate that would lead them through the forest and onto the road for the village. It was cold in the shadow of the trees, but it blocked the blinding winter sun so Julia was able to see his face quite clearly.

  “Why obviously?” she asked.

  Charles looked surprised at her question.

  “Well, because—”

  “Because?”

  “Because we — you and I, well—” He seemed flustered, and Julia was shocked to see it. He was usually so sure of himself.

  Suddenly he stopped and grinned at her.

  “You know, we can’t be seen by anyone in the house on this path.”

  Julia’s heart picked up speed.

  “Oh?” was all she said, because it was all she could manage really. She knew he was changing the subject. But she liked the change too much.

  “Mmm…” He stepped closer. “…did I tell you how utterly ravishing you look in that gown?”

  Speech went from difficult to impossible. So she shook her head, and he stepped closer still.

  “Well, angel. You do. You look utterly ravishing. In fact, I’m surprised I was able to keep myself from tossing you onto the table back there in front of everyone.”

  She should slap his face for speaking to her in such a way.

  But apparently, her sudden muteness came hand-in-hand with paralysis, for she couldn’t move an inch.

  Charles reached out and trailed a finger along the neckline of her spencer, following the dip where the jacket closed at her breasts before coming up the other side.

  Julia’s entire body broke out in gooseflesh at the action.

  “It suits you, this gown,” he continued, his voice soft and hypnotic.

  Julia completely forgot what they’d been talking about up until now.

  “The spencer; white and pure as the driven snow,” he said with a smile before continuing, his finger now joined by the rest of his hand and reaching up to cup her face.

  “But hidden just beyond, a burst of colour. The virtuous outer garment, hiding something brighter, less innocent, more exciting just underneath.”

  Julia forgot to breathe. Literally forgot until her lungs began to hurt.

  “God,” he whispered, his voice suddenly sounding tortured. “What you do to me, Julia.”

  His eyes were glazed with hunger, the startling blue looking hotter than she’d ever seen.

  If he decided to ruin her completely, right here on the forest floor, she knew she would not stop him. She knew she wanted him to do it with every fibre of her being.

  A sudden movement on his shoulder distracted her momentarily.

  “A spider,” she said unthinkingly.

  “What was that, my love?”

  His love?

  “N-nothing. Just a spider on your shoulder.”

  He frowned a little, and Julia suddenly felt silly to have interrupted such a moment with such a trifling comment.

  She leaned toward him, desperate to receive the kiss she knew was coming… but was met with fresh air.

  In the next moment, she nearly jumped out of her skin as the afternoon stillness was rent with a blood-curdling shriek. Truly, a little girl in the throes of her worst nightmare couldn’t have produced such a high-pitched sound.

  Julia opened her eyes and was amazed by what she saw.

  Charles Carrington, Earl of Ranford, over six feet tall and more masculine than anyone she’d ever encountered, the man who brought husbands to their pistols and debutantes to fisticuffs, was leaping from foot to foot and screeching like a frightened child.

  “Get it off me,” he was yelling, doing an odd sort of on-the-spot run. “Get it off me!”

  Julia watched in fascination as he stripped himself of his jacket and flung it at her. She burst into laughter. Never had she seen anything as ridiculous.

  “Is it gone?” he yelled, turning on the spot and trying to see his shoulder, like a dog chasing its tail.

  Julia could hardly breathe, so hard was she laughing at him. Every few seconds, a shudder ran through his body before he resumed his running.

  She honestly thought she would die from laughing.

  “I can feel it on me.” He was shouting. “I can still feel it.”

  Julia howled, tears streaming down her face.

  Her laughter was brought to an abrupt end, however, when Charles stumbled and barrelled straight into her, knocking her clean off her feet and landing on top of her.

  Julia gasped under his weight but would have stayed there happily for the rest of her life.

  She went from shaking with laughter to trembling with a raging lust such as she’d never felt in mere seconds.

  Charles reared up on his elbows to look down at her, his face suddenly filled with concern.

  Julia’s heart sighed. Clearly he was concerned for her, probably terrified that he’d hurt her, so worried did he look.

  He opened his mouth to speak, and Julia got ready to assure him that she was unhurt.

  “Is it gone?” he asked, and she set off into peals of laughter once more.

  He’d been so conscientious of her, so concerned about her well-being. And it had all been pushed aside by his fear of a tiny insect.

  She watched as the ridiculousness of their situation penetrated his fear, and he suddenly looked both embarrassed and affronted at her mirth.

  “Have I hurt you?” he asked.

  “N-no” she stuttered, still laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” he demanded petulantly.

  “Oh, nothing,” she responded. “In fact, I am thinking what a shame it is. Here I thought I had found a protector, a knight in shining armour. Yet all it takes to scare you off is a tiny eight-legged fiend.”

  He shuddered again at the mention of the spider, though he tried not to show it.

  “It’s not funny.” He sulked.

  “Of course not,” she said, biting her lip to keep from laughing again.

  “I don’t like spiders,” he explained as though that needed pointing out.

  Julia couldn’t help it. She laughed again.

  With a tut and muttering something she couldn’t hear, Charles rolled off her and got to his feet before offering her his hand.

  When she took it, he pulled her up to slam against his body, and all the humour left her in an instant.

  “I am your protector,” he said softly, one hand wrapping round her waist, the other moving to remove leaves and twigs from her hair. “I am your knight. I would kill with my bare hands any man who dared to touch you without your consent. I would go to the ends of the earth for you. I would slay dragons for you.”

  He paused while Julia almost perished from want, from love.

  “Just don’t ask me to carry spiders on my shoulder.”

  And with that, she went off into peals of laughter once more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  THERE HAD BEEN TIMES, Charles thought, in his past, when he had felt rather less than the man he should be.

  When his father despaired of his escapades.

  When Isobel’s husband proved just what a weak little boy he had been back then.

  But nothing had ever made him feel quite so emasculated as this incident with that horrible, evil spider.

  He just stopped himself from
shuddering again.

  Nasty little creatures. He’d always hated them.

  However, it did very little for his ego, standing here watching the woman he loved, the woman he’d been trying to seduce, if he was honest, laughing herself hysterical at him.

  It wasn’t funny anyway.

  Spiders could kill.

  But he didn’t feel like pointing that out right then.

  He was mortified. He had seen the stars in her eyes just moments ago, had suspected that what he saw in her expression was what he felt for her; utter love and adoration. Despite the mystery surrounding her, despite the fact that he knew she was hiding a secret pain from him, and it tore him apart to think of her suffering and not letting him help.

  He loved her with a feeling so strong it damn near brought him to his knees. And he suspected she felt the same. Suspected that they had been about to admit it, even, here his body tightened, even show it through their actions, when he’d been viciously attacked.

  And she found it all far too amusing for his liking.

  Of course, he enjoyed seeing her laugh. God knows he’d been worried sick about how sad and scared she’d been looking.

  But still, it rather dented one’s pride to be laughed at so much.

  And any conversation seemed to set her off again.

  So Charles did the one thing he knew would stop her laughing, the thing he’d been dying to do since she’d walked into the dining room finally wearing a dress that fit her, a dress that would make a man weep since it showed off her curves, showed off the gleam in her glorious hair, made her bewitching eyes sparkle and dance.

  He pulled her closer still, lifted her clean off her feet, and slammed his mouth against hers.

  The desire that always bubbled under the surface erupted through him like liquid fire, burning him up from the inside out.

  The feel of her soft, pliant lips beneath his own was like a drug, intoxicating and addictive.

  Charles felt her arms wrap tightly around his neck, her small hands tugging at his hair, pulling him closer still.

  She moaned as his tongue invaded her mouth, and the sound damn near killed him.

  He wanted her with a passion that consumed him.

  With his heart pounding in his ears, his hands began a slow torturous exploration of her body, feeding his thirst for her, making him want more and more and more.