Never Envy an Earl

by Regina Scott

  St. Mary the Virgin in Chessington proved to be the home of the steeple she had seen the previous day. The tiny church stood high on a hill overlooking the green fields. The warm rough stone of the exterior, the cool interior with its sharply arched windows and doors appealed to her immediately. The vicar was a middle-aged man, appropriately serious in his demeanor. Seated in the walnut box pew between Lady Carrolton and the earl, voices raised in prayer around her, she felt herself relaxing.

  Thank You.

  The prayer came easily, from the depths of her. She drew in a breath and smiled at the cross over the altar.

  As the service progressed, however, she became more aware of the earl beside her, the way he shifted when the vicar called for reflection, the way his hands gripped the back of the pew when he rose or sat. His expression was as solemn as the vicar’s, and when he bowed his head to pray, she could feel his devotion. He couldn’t be a bully, could he?

  A sandy-haired deacon came forward as the services ended.

  “I have a duty to perform,” he informed them all, adjusting the spectacles on his short nose. He lifted a piece of paper and read from it. “I publish the banns of marriage between Sir Harold Orwell of Foulness and Patience Ramsey most recently of Carrolton Park. This is the first time of asking. If any of you know cause or impediment why these two people should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it.” He folded the paper and smiled hopefully at them all.

  No one spoke.

  Lady Lilith puffed out a sigh.

  Lady Carrolton waited until they had exited the church before speaking her mind.

  “Married!” she cried as they walked under the ivy-wrapped iron arch that held the lamp over the gate in the hedge. “You told me Patience Ramsey was too good to be my companion, Gregory, but I never believed it. I didn’t believe that upstart Sir Harold when he claimed to be engaged to her. My Patience, married to a baronet.” She frowned at her son, who was escorting her. “Why haven’t you married? Must I die before seeing grandchildren?”

  Lady Lilith stifled a sob and ran for the coach. To Yvette’s surprise, Mr. Villers hurried after her.

  The earl started forward, then must have realized he could not drag his mother with him and pulled back.

  “This is not the time or place to discuss this, Mother,” he said, manly jaw tight.

  She sniffed. “It never is. You should have pursued Charlotte Worthington. Her brother encouraged you.”

  Why did Yvette have a sudden urge to yank out Miss Worthington’s no doubt shiny hair? She hadn’t even met the woman!

  “I did pursue her, Mother,” the earl informed her as they approached the carriage. “She decided we would not suit.” He turned to help his mother up into the coach as the coachman steadied the horses.

  So, the lady he had pursued had turned him down. What did she know that Yvette had missed?

  ~~~

  Yvette continued to watch him warily, as if she expected him to leap from the carriage and run alongside. Gregory had wracked his brain, but he could think of nothing he had done that might have caused her to take him in dislike. But then, the behavior of some women baffled him.

  His mother would have to bring up Charlotte Worthington. The sister of a good friend, she was tall and graceful, with auburn hair and wise grey eyes. Wise enough to see through him.

  “You don’t love me, Gregory,” she’d said, patting his hand after he’d had the courage to suggest their friendship might be something more. “And I cannot abide the idea of being one more pretty decoration in your home.”

  He certainly hadn’t intended her to be a decoration, even if she was lovely to look upon. Then again, what did he know about the roles a wife could play? His mother had been a recluse since he could remember. Worth’s mother was gone, as was Harry’s, and there was no one quite like Harry’s aunt Gussie, who had raised him. Of Gregory’s close friends, only Wey had a mother highly involved in his life. The Dowager Duchess of Wey was still mourning the death of her husband, but she’d been known to take a hand in politics and advocate for the less fortunate. Did other wives do as much?

  Not that he had much chance of finding out at the rate he was going.

  He made sure his mother was settled in the carriage, then turned to hand in Yvette. As he did so, a movement caught his eye. A stranger was watching them from the corner of the hedge, where it turned around the churchyard. As he shifted, the sunlight gleamed on strawberry blond curls escaping his cap.

  Gregory seized Yvette by the waist and bundled her into the coach.

  “Gregory!” his mother scolded, while Yvette stared at him.

  “Stay here,” he ordered, “and keep away from the windows.”

  His mother’s eyes widened, but Yvette nodded and pulled her back against the seat.

  Of course, the fellow was gone by the time Gregory reached the spot. The grass appeared to have been trampled, but he could have said the same about much of the area around the church following services. Likewise, a fellow in a tweed cap fit in all too well with the people heading back into the village.

  “Is this where you saw him, then?” Yvette asked.

  He spun to find her just behind him. “What are you doing? I told you to wait in the coach.”

  “I am not good at obeying orders,” she said, glancing around. “Besides, it is plain he has fled.”

  Gregory drew in a breath. “If it even was your cousin. I cannot know every man in the area, though I have met many. What color hair does he have?”

  “Like mine,” she said, fingering a curl escaping from the bonnet his mother had purchased for her. “I do not think he realized how much I would resemble him when he insisted my head be shaved.” She shrugged.

  He could not be so cavalier. The fellow had been here, less than twenty feet away. He could have shot from cover, killed her before anyone would have been the wiser. And Villers, who was supposed to be helping Gregory guard Yvette, was…

  Standing on the other side of the coach, bending his head toward Lilith!

  Gregory grabbed Yvette’s hand. “Back in the coach. Now.”

  She did not resist, but she didn’t like it. Her hand was stiff in his. “I am not your prisoner, my lord.”

  “Until I know you are safe, you might as well be.”

  Now she dug in her heels on the soft ground. “I can help.”

  “Not now.” He picked her up and deposited her in the coach once more. Turning, he found his coachman and the remaining parishioners staring at him.

  “Servants,” he said before moving around the coach.

  Villers and Lilith seemed oblivious as he approached, her color high and his voice low. Had the miscreant gone so far as to kiss her? Gregory grabbed him by the collar.

  “You are shirking your duty, Mr. Villers,” he said, lifting the fellow to the toes of his shiny shoes. “I have half a mind to make you walk back to the house, but that would leave me short-handed.”

  “Gregory!” Lilith cried. “Release him!”

  Villers was making unconvincing gagging noises. Gregory pushed him in the direction of the carriage door, opened it, and thrust him in.

  “I don’t need your assistance,” Lilith informed him, lifting her skirts to clamber in after the fellow. Villers slumped onto the rear-facing seat and refused to meet Gregory’s gaze.

  By the time Gregory climbed in, his sister had taken his seat next to Villers and was apologizing. Gregory squeezed in next to his mother, whose gaze darted about the coach as if she wasn’t sure which person was more interesting. Yvette was worse. She stared straight ahead, as if seeing nothing and no one.

  “I assure you, I don’t know what came over my brother,” Lilith said to Villers as the coach started out.

  Villers was attempting to salvage his cravat, which Gregory’s grip appeared to have wrecked. “No reason to apologize, Lady Lilith. The earl is correct. A gentleman has a duty to all the ladies he is escorting. I will only say that my admiration of you made
me oblivious to everything else.”

  She slid closer, lower lip trembling. “You are a true gentleman, Mr. Villers, unlike some.” The look she cast Gregory was all venom.

  “Alas,” Yvette said into the silence, “it is easy for a bully to wear a pleasant face.”

  Sandwiched between his mother and the wall, he winced. Bully, braggart, bruiser—the names had been easily applied by those who saw only his size and not the man beneath it. Sometimes he felt like a lion in a cage—the very things that made him who he was were viewed as dangers to those around him.

  Even, it seemed, by the woman he had vowed to protect.

  Chapter Eleven

  She had hoped he was different from so many of the men she’d known. Her father was the one good example she had. He had been devoted to his wife and children, his death a senseless act, as tragic as the burning of the paintings he loved. Lord Carrolton had seemed kind, yet what was she to make of his behavior at the church? Such brute force! Such command! The change in him was as great as if Fortune had turned into a mountain lion.

  He said little on the drive back to the house, sitting with arms crossed over his chest and lips tight. Lady Lilith and Lady Carrolton kept their heads down and their thoughts private. Only Mr. Villers seemed confused by the tension, glancing from the earl’s sister to him, opening his mouth and then shutting it again. He finally looked to Yvette in appeal. She could only shrug.

  As soon as they entered the house and Marbury stepped forward to take the ladies’ wraps, the earl turned to Yvette. “Miss French, a word if you please.”

  Lady Carrolton sighed and shambled over to Yvette’s side as if assuming she would join them.

  “Alone,” he added.

  The countess’ lower lip trembled as she peered up at her son. “You aren’t going to discharge her, are you?”

  In the act of draping the countess’ pelisse over his arm, Marbury froze.

  Lady Lilith’s reaction was far stronger. She gasped and rushed forward. “Gregory, no! Whatever she did, it wasn’t her fault. It was mine.”

  Her mother drew herself up. “Nonsense. It was mine. If you must punish someone, let it be me.”

  Yvette stared at them. They feared what he might do, yet they were willing to take the blame onto themselves. No one had ever done as much for her since her family had been killed.

  The earl was staring as well. “I don’t intend to punish anyone. I simply wish to speak to Miss French about a matter that occurred at the church. I promise not to shackle her in chains or put her on bread and water.”

  Marbury relaxed.

  Lady Lilith slumped, then raised her chin in her customary hauteur. “Well, if I learn otherwise, I shall be very put out with you, Gregory. Come, Mother. It seems we will have to fend for ourselves.”

  Lady Carrolton leaned closer to Yvette. “Tell me everything he says.” Her whisper carried around the entry hall.

  “Am I to be included in this conversation?” Mr. Villers asked as Lady Lilith and the countess climbed the stairs, Marbury right behind.

  “No,” the earl said. “I’ll have words with you later.”

  He paled, but he inclined his head and excused himself.

  The earl motioned Yvette into the corridor and walked with her to the golden withdrawing room, opening the door to let her in. For once, the gilded and bronzed decor did nothing to lift her spirits. He shut the door and turned to face her.

  “I asked you to wait in the coach.”

  The words came out clipped. He was still in high dudgeon. She would not fight fire with fire. Yvette wandered to the marble hearth and ran her hand over the smooth surface. “You ordered me to hide. That was counter to the plan. If my cousin does not see me, we will not see him.”

  “He saw you all right.” He strode to the window and snapped shut the drapes as if trying even now to shield her. “And I saw him.”

  “You might have caught him if you hadn’t insisted on protecting me,” Yvette informed him as the room darkened. “I know you British thrive on chivalry and romance, but in this game, monsieur, you must think with your head, not your heart.”

  “My heart is entirely the problem.” He stalked back to her. My, but he was large. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. Those brown eyes were sagging, his spirit as well, she thought.

  “This isn’t a game to me, Yvette,” he murmured. “I cannot think like Julian Mayes. I realize the goal is to stop your cousin from harming others, but harming you is equally repugnant.”

  And that was the difference between Claude and the earl. Her cousin cared nothing for the carnage in his wake. Sometimes she thought he thrived on it. This man cared too much. Still, she could protect herself. Perhaps it was time he realized that.

  She slid away from him along the hearth. “You are big and strong. Few can match you. You rely on this.”

  He shook his head. “I like to think I have more on my side than brute strength.”

  “Oui. Honor, valor. You look at me, and you see a frail creature in need of your protection, a seedling to your oak.”

  He did not refute her.

  Yvette kept her voice sweet. “But I am not helpless, my dear earl. I survived the Terror, the treachery of Napoleon’s court. I know when to fight and when to cry peace.” She moved closer, rested her head against his chest. She thought he was more surprised than she was when his arms came around her.

  In a flash, she had slipped away, blade springing easily to her hand from the sheath on her wrist. “You see? I am no one’s fool. You do not have to treat me like a child.”

  He stared at the dagger, glittering as brightly as his withdrawing room. “Where did you…”

  “I carry it, always. At night it is under my pillow. I am no novice to danger, my lord.”

  He shook his head again. “So you have no need of me. And here I thought the War Office was finally going to allow me to participate. I’m nothing but a backdrop in the play.”

  Yvette lowered the dagger with a frown. “You wish to be in danger?”

  “No,” he corrected her. “I wish to be of use. Our nation faces a threat that could well end us. What sort of man sits idly by? But I have a responsibility to this estate, the people who depend on it. I cannot simply ride off to war.”

  Very likely not, though he had the physique to do well as a warrior. Had the Carroltons descended from the northern hordes that had once conquered this land and even sacked Paris? She could imagine him standing at the prow of a ship, sword raised and teeth bared. But she had a feeling that while his comrades would rush to the fray, he would have stayed to protect the widow in the village.

  She sheathed the dagger in the scabbard. “We are both of us misplaced. My parents intended me to marry a count and be a wife with nothing more to do than tend roses and plan banquets.”

  “Would you have been happy?” he asked.

  “Perhaps. It was all any of us knew then. Now? I have seen too much, done too much, to return easily to that life.”

  “And I am constrained to the life I have.” He sighed. “What would you have of me, Yvette? I cannot stand by and watch while you are in danger.”

  “I do not ask it of you. We must work together, you and me. My cousin is now certain, if he was not before, that I am in your house. He may even have allowed you to see him, so you would know he was coming. He wishes to strike fear in us. Instead, we will be ready for him. Like the French royalty, we will eat, drink, and be merry as the mob approaches the Bastille.”

  He grimaced. “Not the best analogy. Louis and his queen were destroyed.”

  “We will not be,” Yvette told him. “The king and queen could not understand the frustrations of the people. I know how Claude thinks.” She paced away from the hearth and back again, chewing her lower lip. “The agent he sent to Harry’s tried to kill me twice, once with a shot from cover and the other with poison.”

  He looked white against the gold of his wall coverings. “If we keep inside and hire no new staff
, you should be safe here.”

  Yvette shook her head. “Still you think of protection. We must bring him closer if we wish to capture him. He must have an opportunity to strike in which he thinks he can escape.” She eyed him. “You have men in the woods, non?”

  “My gamekeeper,” he allowed.

  “And grooms to attend you.”

  He nodded.

  “Then I must visit the forest. I will go tomorrow to gather bluebells for the countess. You will send men ahead to surround the area. When Claude shows his hand, we will capture him and end this madness once and for all.”

  ~~~

  She was so fervent. Her eyes flashed, her skin glowed. He could imagine men marching behind her all the way to the palace gates. He would have been one of them.

  Still, he doubted it would be so easy to draw her cousin out of hiding. The man was adept at escape.

  “And if that doesn’t work?” he asked.

  She wiggled her lips as if chewing on a thought. “If we cannot lure him out here, he may strike at this wedding. We could send your men ahead to watch the road and add one to the servants working at the celebration. My cousin must think me an easy target.”

  He still didn’t like her being a target at all, but that dagger proved she was ready to take on anyone rash enough to accost her.

  They plotted strategy for a while longer, then she raised and lowered her slender shoulders as if stretching them. “I should go. The countess and your sister will be worried.”

  He smiled. “I’ve been half expecting them to storm the doors.”

  She eyed the portal as if expecting the same. “They wished to protect me. I am amazed.”

  The words came out before he could stop them. “You inspire acts of valor.”

  She dimpled. “Why, my lord, you truly are a romantic.”