Good Earls Don't Lie

by Michelle Willingham

  Iain took her arm in his. “I wouldn’t let it trouble you, a chara. Or are you planning to fight Miss Everett for your viscount?”

  “I don’t know.” Her face fell, and she regarded him. “Right now, I feel so uncertain about everything. I know I said I would save him my first dance . . . but all I could think of was how he said what I wanted to hear. He only wrote to me six times in half a year. And even those letters were only replies to letters I sent to him.” Her expression furrowed, and she added, “He has already replaced me . . . as if he believed I would never get well.”

  There was bewilderment in her voice, and he took her hands in his. But instead of heartbreak, there was frustration in her eyes. “Iain,” she murmured. “What am I to do now?”

  A strand of reddish-brown hair had fallen loose from her bonnet, and he envisioned untying the ribbons and tossing it away, kissing her hard. He wanted to release her hands, for he didn’t trust himself right now. She was beautiful and vulnerable, and God help him, he wanted to console her wounded feelings.

  “You should hold your head high and know that you deserve better.”

  “I thought I knew what I wanted,” she murmured. “I thought everything would be different once he saw me walk again. But Thomas wasted no time in finding someone else.” Her face tightened with anger, and she bit her lip. “You were right about him. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

  He guided her off the path, away from anyone who might intrude. Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and he couldn’t stop himself from tracing the edge of her face. “He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

  She closed her eyes, gathering her composure. Then she leaned in and rested her cheek against his chest. He put his arms around her, holding her close. The embrace was unexpected, but he would never turn her aside when she needed him. It was as if she took strength from him, and he inhaled the fragrance of her hair.

  Don’t do this, his conscience warned. He was letting himself trespass beyond friendship when he had no future to offer Rose—nothing, save poverty. She was a good woman, but he didn’t want to bring her suffering.

  At last, she pulled back from him. With a chagrined look, she confessed, “I apologize for throwing myself at you. I don’t even know why I did.”

  “It’s naught to worry yourself over, a chara. But we should return to the carriage.” Before I lose myself and kiss you again. He reached down and lifted her into his arms.

  Her face flushed. “It does feel wrong, allowing you to carry me, when I can walk now. Someone might see us.”

  “If anyone does see me carrying you, then I shall toss you into the bushes,” he teased.

  She sent him a weak smile and sighed. “I know I’m being silly. It’s just that I don’t want there to be a misunderstanding. It would hurt your chances of finding a bride if others believed we were more than friends.”

  Iain walked exceedingly slow, wanting to hold her a little longer. He studied her face, watching her skin flush. “Will it?”

  “It might,” she answered. But he heard the slight note of hesitancy in her voice. He stopped walking for a moment, studying her expression. She appeared flustered, almost afraid to speak.

  And when he looked into her brown eyes, he saw that she was not unaffected by him. God help them both.

  Damn it all, he liked Rose. She was beautiful, resilient, and passionate. He had a feeling that no other woman in London had half of her resourcefulness. But there would be no safety, no steadiness at all in Ireland—only ruins. He didn’t like to admit it, but it was the truth.

  Better to hold the distance between them than to imagine a life where he would cause her misery. He never wanted to see those eyes fill up with pain or resentment.

  He changed the subject and asked, “Are you wanting to return home or would you prefer to drive a little longer?”

  Rose sent him a sidelong smile. “I want to avoid that prison for as long as possible.”

  He brought her back to the carriage and helped her inside. Then he offered her the reins. “Would you like to drive the horses, then?”

  She appeared startled, but her eyes gleamed at the prospect. “I’ve never driven a team of horses, but yes. Yes, I would like to try.”

  He instructed her on how to guide them, and it was the perfect distraction. Within moments, they were driving along the banks of the Serpentine once more. She kept the pace steady instead of racing them, and from the delight in her expression, she was enjoying herself.

  After the third time they circled the lake, she handed back the reins. “Though I don’t want to, I suppose I have no choice but to return for luncheon. Unless you brought food?”

  He hadn’t, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t remedy the situation. “I can send Hattie to fetch some for us,” he offered.

  Rose shook her head. “It’s all right. I’ll return home and my grandmother will send me off to my room to rest. Then I’ll be able to stare at the wall a little longer.”

  “There’s no need for that.” He turned the curricle back toward the road. “I will invite myself to luncheon, and afterward, we can play whist or another game, if you’re wanting company.”

  Her lips tightened. “No one could ever accuse you of subtlety, Lord Ashton.”

  “I don’t know the meaning of the word.”

  She laughed at that, and he directed the team in the direction of her family’s townhouse. “You seem overly confident that I would want you to stay.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be wanting me to stay? It is preferable to staring at the wall, I hope.”

  “I would welcome your company,” she said. “But again, I worry that others will believe you are courting me.”

  “Don’t be so concerned about what others think.” He drew the horses to a stop when they reached her townhouse. “Is there any harm in spending an afternoon playing cards with me? Your sister can join us, along with your mother.”

  Her spirits lifted for a moment. “My mother would like that, I think. Grandmother has been keeping her behind closed doors as much as possible. I think she is becoming more melancholy each day.”

  Before the footman could come to help her disembark, Rose turned back to him. “Thank you for taking me for a drive.” With a soft smile, she added, “And you may stay for luncheon, before you suffer the indignity of losing to me in cards.”

  He only shook his head. “Nay, a chara. We’re to be partners in the game. It is your mother and sister who must prepare to lose.”

  Rose stared into Iain’s eyes when she laid down the ace of spades. His mouth tightened, hinting that he had very few of that suit. She lowered her gaze and then looked back at him to let him know she understood.

  “Stop cheating,” Lily warned. “I know the pair of you are up to something. You keep staring at one another.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.” Rose smiled sweetly at Iain. “We haven’t said a word.”

  “You’ve trounced us in three games. Mother, forgive me, but I think we should switch partners.”

  “Only if I get him,” Lady Penford said. She sent Iain a brilliant smile. “My dear husband and I were quite good at whist, I must say. George adored cards.”

  “It’s not my fault I’ve had three hands of rubbish cards,” Lily moaned. She twisted her necklace in despair, and Rose nodded toward Iain, glancing at the necklace. He gave a nod, and she led with the ten of diamonds.

  He trumped Lily’s queen with his own king, while her mother threw away a ten of clubs. “Oh, well done,” she told Iain.

  “Thank goodness we aren’t wagering anything,” Lily said. “I would be a pauper by now.”

  “A wager sounds like a grand idea,” Iain countered. “If I win this next hand, I’ll claim a prize of my choosing and then switch partners by way of thanks.”

  Oh no. Rose didn’t like the wicked look in his eyes. “And what about me? What if I win the trick?” She had a few high cards remaining. “What if I don’t want to switch partners? We are winning,
after all.”

  “Do be fair, Rose,” her sister said. “The two of you have beaten us enough. It’s time to give me the Earl of Ashton.” To the earl, she asked, “Lord Ashton, exactly what did you want for your prize?”

  “The first dance with your sister at the Worthingstone ball,” he answered quietly.

  The room fell silent, and Rose paled. Neither her mother nor her sister knew of her ability to walk, much less dance.

  “I cannot promise that,” she answered. “You ask too much.”

  Lily attempted to intervene. “While I’m certain Rose would be delighted to grant that to you when she walks again, I fear it may be some time yet before she can.”

  Rose couldn’t bring herself to speak. Although she had already promised her first dance to the viscount, both of them knew it was unlikely that Lord Burkham would offer. But why would Iain want her first dance? She suspected there was something more behind the wager. Almost like . . . jealousy.

  When he’d embraced her in Kensington Gardens, she had felt safe and comforted. His strong arms had held her, and she had nestled against his chest. They had a good friendship, and she couldn’t deny her attraction to him. If she were truthful with herself, she’d wanted him to kiss her. She’d wanted to feel as if someone desired her, as if he cared.

  The thought of dancing with this man in front of the ton filled her with apprehension. Not only because she was afraid of humiliating herself . . . but also because the very thought made her heartbeat quicken. His hands would be upon her again, those green eyes watching her with interest.

  You’re trying to help him find a wealthy bride, she reminded herself. He’s not courting you. His offer means nothing.

  Lord Ashton was watching her, revealing none of his feelings. She tried to tell herself that one dance would pose no harm at all. It might be that she would win the wager and could redirect his attention elsewhere.

  And so it was that she made a wager of her own. “All right, Lord Ashton. If I win the trick, you will ask Miss Sinclair for the first dance. If you win, I will grant you my first dance when I am able to walk again. However long it takes.”

  He met her gaze with a sudden intensity that made her stomach flutter with nerves. “I accept the wager.”

  Very deliberately, she chose his weakest suit and laid down the king of hearts. She never took her eyes off him, but let him see that she had taken this quite seriously. He was not going to defeat her.

  “Oh dear,” Lady Penford said, following suit with a queen. “Lily, can you help?”

  But Lily only discarded a ten. “I’m sorry, but someone dealt me a rubbish hand once again.” She glared at Rose.

  All eyes turned to Iain. He withdrew a single card from his hand but did not lay it down. For a moment, they all waited for him to make his move. He didn’t smile at all, but locked his green eyes upon hers. She couldn’t read his expression, for he offered neither defeat nor triumph.

  “Go on, Ashton,” she urged. “If you have a card to play, then set it down. Admit your defeat.”

  With that, he turned over his card and laid down the ace of hearts.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Victoria Nottoway, the Duchess of Worthingstone, greeted them with a warm smile. Rose had arrived earlier than the other guests, so as not to attract attention when the footman carried her inside.

  “Where would you like to sit?” the duchess inquired. “Your chair can be placed anywhere.”

  “By the wall will be fine,” Rose answered. She wanted to remain somewhat out of the way so that no one would notice her.

  Her sister drew up a chair beside her. “I’ll join you here.” Lily cast a glance at the corner, toward a large fern. “Or perhaps, if Grandmother tries to match me up with someone, I’ll go into hiding over there.”

  She fingered the chain at her throat once again. Tonight Lily wore a ball gown the shade of lilacs, trimmed with lace dyed the same shade. Her hair was pulled into an updo and she wore hot house gardenias tucked into the brown strands. There was no doubt that her sister would attract a great deal of notice with her beauty. Rose didn’t understand why Lily insisted on waiting for Lord Arnsbury when she could have any man she wanted.

  “Lily, do try to enjoy yourself tonight,” Rose urged. “Her Grace has gone to a great deal of trouble to make us feel welcome. It would not do for you to remain a wallflower.”

  Sadness crossed over her sister’s face. “I know it. But it doesn’t mean that I’ve given up on Matthew.”

  Beneath her skirts, Rose moved her feet and ankles. “I’m going to stand for a moment.” She wanted to gain her footing, to ensure that she could keep her balance. A flutter of nerves caught her stomach.

  Tonight was the night she’d been dreaming of for so long. She had practiced walking in the privacy of her bedroom, and now she felt confident she could manage it—so long as she kept her steps slow.

  What she didn’t know was how to handle Lord Ashton. Why had the earl asked to claim her first dance? Was it because he wanted to help her in front of everyone?

  It was because of him that she’d learned to walk at all. Iain had been ever patient with her, catching her before she could fall. He had helped her to strengthen her legs, encouraging her with every step. Her mood softened, and she realized that she owed him the first dance, after all that he’d done.

  “Grandmother is approaching,” Lily warned. “And . . . oh dear, she has her battalion with her.”

  Rose wasn’t certain what Lily meant by that, but when she saw the women alongside her grandmother, she relaxed and sat down once more. “It’s only the duchess’s sisters. Lady Castledon, Lady Falsham, and Mrs. Sinclair.”

  She brightened when her friend Evangeline crossed the room to join the ladies. Mrs. Sinclair’s youngest daughter was the prospective bride she hoped Lord Ashton would court. Her friend was indeed wealthy, though her riches were steeped in scandal. It was bad enough that Mrs. Sinclair and her husband were engaged in commerce, but to own a business empire that was built around ladies’ unmentionables had made it quite difficult for their daughters to find appropriate husbands.

  But that wouldn’t matter a whit to Lord Ashton. Miss Sinclair had one of the largest dowries in London, and that was what he needed. Her only problems were her immense shyness and her father, a notorious Highlander who made it clear that no man was good enough for Evangeline.

  Lady Castledon extended her hands and came to greet them. “Lady Rose and Lady Lily, it’s been ages.” She beamed at them with a sly wink. “I believe you’ve met my older sisters already. I’ve told Margaret and Juliette all about your requirements for husbands, and I am quite certain we can find men who will suit. I am eager to begin matchmaking.”

  The eldest sister, Mrs. Sinclair, had dark blond hair with faint streaks of gray. “What Amelia means is that she is eager to begin meddling.” The matron extended her hand in greeting. “It is good to see you again, Lady Rose. Evangeline was so glad to hear that you’d returned to London.”

  “I’ve been dying a slow, painful death of shopping,” Evangeline admitted. She fidgeted with her gloves. “Mother, may I please sit with Rose and hide behind the draperies?”

  Mrs. Sinclair exchanged a look with her sisters. “Certainly not.”

  “Then I shall wait until you’ve left my side and go hide within the library.” With that, Evangeline planted herself beside Rose. She studied the room of arriving guests with an anxious eye. “I don’t know why I came tonight. This was a mistake.” With a pained expression, she added, “I can only imagine the spectacle that will take place if my father arrives.”

  “He won’t be here this evening,” Mrs. Sinclair told her daughter. “I made Cain promise.” Dropping her voice to a low murmur, she confessed, “Evangeline is worried that my husband will threaten to kill any prospective suitor.”

  “Father told me that if any gentleman asked me to dance, he would slice him into ribbons and feed his remains to the dogs.” The young woman appeared u
neasy at the thought. “He means it, too.”

  “Cain is only a worried father,” Mrs. Fraser reassured her. “He believes it’s his God-given right to torment his daughter with threats pertaining to her virtue. My husband unfortunately shares that sentiment. And until you have found a man whom your father likes, I fear you’ll have to endure it, too.”

  Evangeline sent a pleading look toward Rose. “Save me.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve done worse.” Rose sent her a weak smile. “I found a possible husband for you. You’ll meet the Earl of Ashton tonight.”

  “Traitor,” Evangeline moaned. “I thought you were my friend.”

  “Oh, but she is looking after your best interests, darling,” Lady Castledon interjected. “Lord Ashton is an Irishman, and he is positively delicious. We’ll need to bring extra smelling salts, for half the ladies here will swoon.”

  While Lady Castledon sang the praises of Lord Ashton, Rose searched the arriving guests for a sign of Lord Burkham. It didn’t seem that he was anywhere to be seen. Had he somehow fallen ill? Or was he not coming at all? Her spirits sank, and as the minutes turned into an hour, her sister Lily went with Lady Castledon and Mrs. Fraser to meet the other guests. Evangeline stayed behind, and it granted Rose a measure of comfort to have an ally at her side. Several of the guests began dancing, and she wondered if she would have the opportunity to join them. Or whether she should try.

  “Dear God,” Evangeline breathed suddenly. “That’s not him, is it?”

  Rose glanced toward the opposite side of the room and saw that Lord Ashton had indeed arrived. He wore the new clothing she had arranged for him, and it fit him like a second skin. His black coat was tailored across his broad shoulders, revealing a cream waistcoat and dark trousers. His black hair was combed back, and when his green eyes rested upon her, she knew that this battle was lost. He fully intended to pursue her.

  “Yes. That is Lord Ashton, the Irishman I spoke of.”

  “He’s looking at us,” Evangeline blurted out, fanning herself suddenly. The young woman’s face reddened. “No, I’m wrong. He’s not looking at us. He’s looking at you.”