The Earl's Complete Surrender

by Sophie Barnes

  She opened her eyes just in time to see Hainsworth bowing his head. He took one breast in his mouth while Lady Dewfield clutched his shoulders. “My lord—­anyone might happen upon us here.”

  Chloe’s blood thundered in her ears. She dared not move, dared not look at Woodford for fear that she would see her own hunger mirrored in his eyes, aware that if she did, she would likely beg for him to touch her—to quench the thirst that had most indecently overcome her. God, how she longed for his touch—­more so now that she knew what it did to her.

  “That’s the fun of it, don’t you agree?” Hains­worth asked.

  “Perhaps, although I would much prefer a soft mattress beneath me than the trunk of a tree or heaven forbid, the ground. I’ll get grass stains on my gown,” Lady Dewfield protested.

  With a groan, Hainsworth released her, allowing the countess to put her gown in order before offering her his arm. “You are not as adventurous as I had imagined,” he said as they walked away.

  “If adventure is what you seek,” Lady Dewfield replied, her voice fading, “you may indeed visit my bedchamber this evening. I am sure that I can think of many interesting ways in which to accommodate your needs.”

  Chloe gasped in response to that implication. She ought not to be so shocked, but her sexual experience during her marriage had been limited. Especially considering how quickly her husband had tired of her after their wedding. After that, their coupling had been rare and uneventful.

  “Let us return to the house,” Woodford said, his voice gruffer than usual.

  Turning her head, Chloe inhaled sharply as her eyes locked with his. There was an intensity to his gaze that disturbed her nerves. She shivered, but couldn’t seem to look away. Kiss me. Please kiss me again. Mouth dry, she licked her lips, her heart skipping as he followed the movement.

  “We cannot afford to lose any more time,” he said, stepping back and moving around the trees. “Come, Lady Newbury. London awaits.”

  “Did you know that Hainsworth was acquainted with Newbury?” she asked, hurrying after him.

  “I know that they frequented the same club and that Hainsworth encountered him there on occasion. He never spoke very highly of him though and even complained one time about Newbury claiming Hainsworth’s favorite chair there. From what I gather, they never spoke to each other again.”

  “Because of a chair?”

  Woodford’s expression remained unaltered as they came out onto the wide lawn leading up to the house. “Hainsworth has his quirks just like everyone else.”

  It was difficult to argue that point, so Chloe said nothing. She parted ways with Woodford at the foot of the stairs with the assurance that they would see each other soon. Back in her room, she wrote a brief note to her mother, explaining that she’d been called back to London by Newbury’s heir who wished to discuss her jointure. In short, there was a financial emergency that needed her immediate attention.

  Grabbing her bonnet, she then placed the journal and the notes she’d made on it inside her reticule along with her Bible and headed out the door. Five minutes later, she was in the carriage and heading toward Portsmouth without anyone taking the least bit of notice. Leaning back against the squabs, she breathed a sigh of relief, though her stomach kept flipping at the thought of what was to come.

  Chapter 16

  Seated across from Lady Newbury in the carriage after joining her at Portsmouth, James pondered her expression. She didn’t look as anxious as he might have expected her to look, considering what they were up against, but there was definitely a restlessness about her that assured him she wasn’t as calm as she was letting on. Good. It would serve her well to acknowledge the danger. “What are you thinking?” he asked. He still wasn’t sure that bringing her with him had been a wise decision, but he’d feared that she hadn’t been bluffing when she’d threatened to go to London alone. At least if they were together he stood a chance of keeping her safe. Or so he hoped.

  Turning away from the window, she glanced toward him, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. “That it would be nice to arrive at the next posting inn soon. I need to stretch my legs.”

  A trivial response, most likely because she didn’t wish to tell him her real thoughts. Her eyes, which failed to meet his directly, offered further proof of this. “It’s normal for you to be afraid,” he said, wondering if that could be it and hoping to bolster her confidence if it was.

  She glanced fleetingly toward him before returning her gaze to the countryside. “I know,” she said simply.

  James considered her response. She’d agreed with him almost too quickly. His eyes dropped to her lap where her hands were toying with the fabric of her gown. He frowned. There was no reason for her to be displaying signs of anxiety right now with no present danger, and considering what he knew of her so far, he believed her to be capable of staying calm until the moment a threat presented itself. “You seem to be vexed by something,” he said, disliking the strange atmosphere surrounding them.

  “I’d rather not talk about it,” she said.

  “Why? Does it have something to do with me?”

  “Of course not. That would be absurd.” She continued to stare out of the window.

  A thought occurred to James as he continued to study her. “Is this about the kisses we’ve shared? About the fact that we both want more?” Lord help him, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that either, but then they’d found the journal and decoding it had become their priority. If she felt ignored, then he was sorry for it, but it couldn’t be helped.

  “We have an important job to do, Lord Woodford, so I think it might be best if we pretend those kisses never happened.”

  James blinked. Pretend they never happened? Not bloody likely! He almost said as much, but thought better of it. For some reason she was having second thoughts about the direction in which their relationship was heading. She hadn’t seemed to have the same concern at Thorncliff, even though their job had been just as important there in finding the journal. So why now? What had changed? Try as he might, he couldn’t quite figure that out. Not yet anyway. So he crossed his arms instead and leaned back against the squabs. “If you insist,” he muttered. Her brow puckered a little and he almost smiled. If he wasn’t mistaken, the lady had not wished for him to agree.

  An awkward silence filled the space between them, making James all the more thankful for their arrival at the next posting inn since it allowed him to escape the confines of the carriage. Lady Newbury seemed equally relieved as she stepped down and moved toward the entrance to the tavern. James sensed that she wished to be alone, but unfortunately that would not be possible. The risk was too great.

  “Would you like to eat something while we’re here?” he asked as he went toward her.

  “Do we have enough time?”

  They hadn’t brought any food along with them and since they’d left shortly before luncheon, he suspected that she must be hungry, having eaten nothing since breakfast. “For a light meal of bread and cheese? Absolutely. Especially if we have it wrapped so we can take it with us.”

  Appreciation seeped into her eyes, telling him that she had indeed been hungry but that she’d been unwilling to delay them on account of that alone, which he found to be extraordinary. Most women would have complained about the discomfort—­would have insisted on packing a traveling bag full of fripperies. Not Lady Newbury. She had been aware of the urgency and had left Thorncliff without making one single demand.

  Guiding her inside the taproom, they located a servant and made their request. “If ye’ll have a seat, I’ll bring it right out,” the woman told them.

  “If you don’t mind, we would rather take it along with us for the ride,” James said. The horses would be ready soon and they could easily eat what they’d ordered in the carriage.

  “As ye like. I’ll ’ave Cook wrap it up for ye, but that’ll cost an extra
tuppence.”

  “I have no issue with that,” James told the servant, his voice harsher than he’d intended. With a hesitant smile, she hurried away.

  “You intimidated her,” Lady Newbury whispered.

  “I know I can seem somewhat severe when under pressure. It cannot be helped.”

  She looked skeptical. “Please try to be polite when she returns. Whatever our situation may be, that woman isn’t to blame for it.”

  “Lady Newbury, are you attempting to educate me on rules of etiquette while we’re racing toward potential danger?” The absurdity of such an idea made his lips quirk.

  “It takes the same amount of time to treat ­people with dignity as it does to treat them without, regardless of whether or not there is danger involved.”

  She had a point there, so when the servant returned with their food neatly wrapped in a piece of white cheese cloth, he paid her for it, smiled and said, “This looks splendid. Thank you ever so much.”

  Lady Newbury angled her head away from him as she turned toward the door, but not before allowing him a glimpse of her smile. She’d liked his gallantry toward the servant and quite possibly his willingness to follow her advice. Straightening, he felt ten feet tall as he followed her outside, but was quickly brought back to solid ground when two men stepped into their path, preventing them from reaching their awaiting carriage.

  “Hand over the book,” one of the men—­a burly one with a cap on his head—­said.

  “What book?” Lady Newbury asked with surprising ignorance. Bravely, she stood her ground, not flinching for a second. James’s heart swelled with pride even as he moved closer to her side.

  “You know which one we’re talking about. It’s quite particular,” the other man said, producing a pistol from his jacket pocket.

  A look of alarm crossed Lady Newbury’s face. “Gracious me. I didn’t realize it was of such great value.” She opened her reticule and proceeded to pull out a book.

  James’s mouth went dry. He’d told her to place it in the secret compartment inside the carriage. What on earth was she thinking, keeping it on her person? And now they would likely lose it to these two men—­hired thugs, by the looks of it. “Gentlemen,” he said, trying to stall for time, or at least draw their attention away from Lady Newbury, “surely we can come to some sort of an agreement.” At present, the pistol trained directly on her belly was his greatest concern, which was why he shook his head slightly when he realized that their coachman was planning to intervene.

  “Not unless she hands over the book,” the fat man muttered gruffly.

  “It’s all right,” Lady Newbury said with a trembling voice, “even if it was my father’s. Indeed, it is the only thing that I have left of him, but even so it is hardly worth either of us risking our lives.”

  “No. I don’t suppose it is,” James agreed, realizing her plan. Looking away from her, he focused on the skinny man and on the pistol he was holding.

  “Here you are,” Lady Newbury said, handing over the book she’d removed from her reticule.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Woodford was aware that the fat man took it, opened it and studied it a moment. “This isn’t it,” he said, slamming it shut.

  Briefly, the skinny man glanced toward his companion, which was precisely when James pushed Lady Newbury behind him and made a grab for the pistol, turning it aside. A shot exploded, the fat man yelled as he leaned forward, attempting to reach Lady Newbury. James landed a swift punch to the side of his head, sending him backward, but the skinny man, whose right hand James still held, punched James in return.

  “Feel free to help us now,” James called to the coachman as he rounded on the skinny man and proceeded to counterattack. Soon, the fellow had been reduced to a squabbling mess on the ground, while the fat man had gotten his just reward from the coachman.

  Kneeling down, James grabbed the skinny man by his jacket and pulled him into a sitting position. “Who sent you?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  A crack sounded as James’s fist made contact with the skinny man’s nose. The man whimpered as blood began to pour. “Let me ask you again,” James said as he glared down at his opponent. “Who sent you?”

  “I don’t know who the cove was,” the skinny man stammered, “but his clothes were fancy, much like yours, and his hair was brown. He gave us each a hundred pounds and promised to give us more when we delivered the book.”

  James grimaced. In all likelihood the man who’d hired these thieves would put them both in early graves in order to stop them from talking. “Let’s find the innkeeper, shall we?” James said, addressing his coachman. “Maybe he has a room where we can lock these fellows away until the constable has time to pay them a visit.”

  “I’ll see to it right away,” the coachman said.

  “And ask him if he has a lad who can ride ahead of us with a message,” James added.

  With a curt nod, the coachman hurried back inside, returning moments later with the innkeeper and a boy roughly sixteen years of age.

  James gave the boy a once-over. “What’s your name, lad?”

  “Will, m’lord,” the boy replied.

  “And are you able to stay in the saddle, Will?” James asked.

  “Aye, m’lord. Horses don’t trouble me,” Will straightened himself a little.

  “Very well then. Let’s find you a horse, shall we?” James proceeded toward the stables while Will fell into step beside him. When they were a decent distance from the others, James said, “I want you to ride to London and find a shop on Old Street Road called Mrs. Dunkin’s Fine Clothing and Accessories. It’s right next to St. Leonard’s Church, on the east side—­north of the river. Do you think you can manage that?”

  “I believe so,” Will replied with the sort of confidence that James found reassuring.

  “When you get there, tell Mrs. Dunkin that your master sent you to place an order for another piece of clothing for his mistress. She’ll ask if she should send it to your master’s home or if you would like to return for it once it’s ready, upon which you must tell her that since your master is hunting rabbits in the countryside today, you’ll pick it up later.”

  Will’s eyes had grown as round as saucers, but rather than question the message, he said, “Is that all?”

  James nodded. “Mrs. Dunkin will give you five pounds for your troubles.”

  “Oh, it aint no trouble at all, m’lord. I’m more than happy to help.”

  Certain this was true, James thanked the lad before seeing him off, then went back to where Lady Newbury was standing a short distance away. “I see the thieves have been removed.”

  “Our coachman helped the innkeeper take them inside as you suggested.” Her expression looked very restrained. “Thank you for helping me before. Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m still quite shaken from the experience.”

  “You don’t look it,” he said, admiring her composure. “Besides, I think you did extremely well. Your idea to distract them with the Bible was brilliant.”

  She smiled a little. “I thought it might be necessary to bring a false book along in case we needed it.”

  “Which is why it is I who should thank you for anticipating what just happened.”

  “I must confess that I did not think it would be quite so violent, or that a pistol would be aimed at my stomach.”

  “Unfortunately, there is every possibility that our situation will grow increasingly hazardous once the man who’s really after us discovers that he failed to acquire the journal.” While he didn’t want to worry her too much, he knew that she valued honesty.

  “Do you suppose it might be Scarsdale?”

  He nodded grimly. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  She raised her chin. “Then perhaps we should be on our way?
”

  Agreeing, James called for the coachman to ready himself, then thanked the innkeeper for his assistance. Holding out his hand, he helped Lady Newbury into the carriage before climbing in after her and shutting the door. “Shall we see what the cook prepared?” he asked when they were once again back on the road.

  Unraveling the cheesecloth, Lady Newbury presented two chunks of cheese, a ­couple of bread rolls and a few slices of ham. “The servant also gave me this,” she said, holding up a small bottle of wine.

  “Looks like quite a feast,” James said. “Shall we see if that bread is as fresh as it appears?”

  Lady Newbury offered him a roll before selecting one for herself. As she bit into it, she closed her eyes, her expression one of pure bliss. Hiding a smile, James took a bite as well, savoring the warm and fluffy texture that lay hidden beneath the harder crust. The cheese was delicious as well, and so was the ham.

  “What did you tell Will?” Lady Newbury asked when she was done eating.

  Unable to open the wine bottle, she handed it to James who managed to remove the stopper. “I asked him to deliver a message to one of my contacts in London—­a precaution in case we’re followed.” He offered her the bottle, unable to look away while she drank. God, how he wanted . . . he would not think of that. Not now when there were more important matters at hand and when he wasn’t even certain that she would appreciate his advances.

  “You’re planning a diversion?” She gave the bottle back to him so he could drink as well.

  He took a lengthy sip, appreciating the rich flavor that the wine had to offer. “Something like that.” His gaze met hers directly. “We’ve a good two hours ahead of us still. If you would like to rest, now is a good time.”