by Robyn DeHart
She crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “This is ridiculous.”
He allowed his gaze to linger on her tempting curves before stepping over to her. “Miss Marrington, do you want to do this assignment or not?”
Her mouth opened, then she paused and her brows slanted down in anger. “My Lord, I realize that you are an Earl and of relation to our Queen, and our Society deems you more important than I. Perhaps they are even correct. However, it would seem to me that you,” she jabbed a finger into his chest, “need me more than I need you for this assignment. Thus far you have insulted my family, the way I walk, and my hair. You are arrogant and rude and sorely lacking in manners.” Her hands fisted on her hips accenting their roundedness.
How was it that this slip of a woman showed no fear of him? He’d frightened women merely by walking into their drawing room. And here he was being a bully—and for good reason—to Evelyn Marrington, but she was quite obviously not afraid of him. He couldn’t help but find that both infuriating and alluring.
“You have obviously decided I do not possess the intelligence nor grace to succeed in this charade. I will not stand for this sort of treatment. I should like a carriage to bring me home on the morrow. Good day, Lord Somersby.” She turned and marched from the room.
In complete disbelief, he watched her go. No one had ever spoken to him in such a way. Arrogant and rude! She was the one lacking in manners. This entire assignment echoed with idiocy. Ellis had claimed his cousin amiable and clever, neither of which Bennett had seen. All he had witnessed was her sharp tongue.
Damned if he didn’t find her sass alluring as hell. All the more reason to send her back home and tell Potterfield she refused to participate. Bennett couldn’t be blamed for this failure if she was the one who walked away. This would work out perfectly. He’d get to continue with the Brotherhood and not be distracted by the ridiculously attractive and fiery-tongued Miss Marrington. It would almost be worth completing the assignment just to see if she was as passionate in other areas. Almost.
…
Her heart was pounding so loudly she was unsure if it was indeed her heart or her boots against the stairs as she raced back to her borrowed bedchamber. Of all the infuriating men. Her mother would have fallen over dead had she heard Evie speak to him that way. “An earl, Evelyn,” her mother would say, fanning off the vapors. “You might as well put me in the grave now.”
She knew her harsh words had meant nothing to the Earl. She tossed some of her belongings into the trunk. The hairbrush landed with a thud. Yes, she was walking away from money that could give her the life she’d dreamed of, but no amount of coin was worth being treated as if she were daft and ugly.
More belongings tumbled into the trunk. She wondered which was more offensive, being seen as ignorant, or unattractive? Definitely the former. She had always been praised for her superior intellect, and, quite frankly, she’d never believed herself particularly attractive, especially in comparison to her sisters. But the Earl of Somersby certainly knew how to make a girl feel both.
She might not get to experience a full adventure, but the little she’d been here, she already had a book idea. Better than what she’d come with. As far as what she’d tell her mother and the rest of the family as to why she’d returned early…well, perhaps she’d come up with something tonight.
…
“The girl wants to return home,” Bennett said as he stepped into Potterfield’s study.
Potterfield looked up from his desk, but said nothing.
Bennett fully entered the room and sat in a chair across from Potterfield’s massive carved desk. He shook his head regretfully. “I don’t think there is any changing her mind. She’s a stubborn lot.”
Potterfield’s eyes narrowed. “I’m trying to understand how precisely this is my problem. I believe this is your assignment. Are you forfeiting?”
“No, but I cannot be held responsible if the girl won’t cooperate.”
“She won’t cooperate or you have made it impossible for her to do so?”
Damnation! He should have known Potterfield wouldn’t simply shrug and give him leave. “Sir, it is my opinion that this assignment is too dangerous and risky for everyone involved. The girl could get hurt, and as stubborn as she is, I’m not certain I can control her.”
“I never asked you to control her, Somersby. She is not a horse.” He shook his head. “How is it that you know nothing about the fairer sex?”
Bennett would not answer that. He knew plenty about women and their ways. Knew about the poison of gossip and how it could destroy weaker women, as it had his sister, Christy. Knew about the greediness and deception of the stronger, cleverer of their sex and all the destruction they left in their wake. What he did not know was how to convince a strong-willed, intelligent woman to do something she’d set her mind against.
“What did you do, Somersby?”
“I did what you told me to do. She is unwilling to do as she’s told.”
“Be that as it may, this is your responsibility. You make this work.”
“Or?” Bennett asked.
“Or you will be reclassified as a guard.”
“Just like that?”
Potterfield slammed his book on the table and stood. He braced his arms on the desk and leaned forward. “You know very well that this isn’t the first time you’ve broken protocol. Like it or not, the rules exist for a reason. You will follow them, or you will lose clearance. It is as simple as that. I will not continue to play games with you. I don’t care who you are.”
Bennett took a deep breath. He could walk away, end it right now, and simply be done with all of this. Then what? What would be left for him? Return to London and live the life of the idle rich? His days filled with nothing but the mindless pursuit of pleasure? Or retire to one of his country estates and live the life of a simple farmer? He didn’t know which alternative seemed duller.
He knew nothing save how to be a member of the Brotherhood. It was what he’d worked toward his entire life. To walk away now would be juvenile. He refused to let a simple miss rob him of his future, no matter how alluring she was.
“Make her change her mind,” Potterfield said. He walked around his desk and went to the bookshelf. “You fix this, or walk away. Your choice.”
Bennett knew he’d been dismissed. Potterfield had moved on to something else and was done entertaining this conversation. So instead of being able to blame everything on Miss Marrington, Bennett had to either make her compliant, or lose everything he’d worked for. He stood and made his way out of Potterfield’s study and back to his waiting steed outside.
He could find a way to make the Marrington girl stay. He’d simply offer her what most women wanted. More money.
…
Evie had finished packing nearly two hours before and she’d already rearranged the trunk three times. She’d tried writing some more on her book idea, but she was far too distracted with thoughts of the arrogant Lord Somersby. It was only because she was still in his townhome. Once she returned to her family’s cottage, she’d be able to concentrate and get writing done. Until then she supposed she could read.
It had started to rain and the droplets knocked on the window in her bedchamber that overlooked Hyde Park. She stood at the window now, watching the moonlight blur the water rivulets as they slid down the glass. Her fingers pressed against the cool window. London. She’d wanted to come here, wanted to see the city and experience some manner of life before she resigned herself to either marriage to an unappealing older man, or a life alone with only her books and characters to keep her company, but it would seem that would not be happening. She’d return home tomorrow and settle into the familiar routine of her family.
“Miss Marrington,” the earl said from behind her.
She started at his voice and turned, hand to her chest. “You gave me a fright. You shouldn’t sneak up on a person in such a way.”
“Yes, well, I am not accustomed to knocking o
n doors in my own house.”
He was a handsome devil, she’d give him that. Not terribly kind, though perhaps that was the way most people were here in town. The arrogance practically dripped from him, and exasperation lined his features, deepening his scowl
He stepped forward. “Incidentally, the door was open.”
Yes, she had left it open after she’d returned from a light dinner downstairs. “Have you arranged for a carriage to return me home?”
“I would prefer you change your mind about leaving. Would you consider continuing with the assignment?”
Her heart stuttered at his words. He was asking her to stay? Perhaps this meant he was not as unreasonable as she’d first thought. “That depends on the situation here,” she said.
“We are prepared to offer you more money,” he said. His jawline ticked with tightening muscles. The stubble there drew her attention and she momentarily wondered if it would be rough or soft.
“I don’t think you understand,” she said. “There is not enough money to make this ordeal worth my trouble.”
He nodded, took a deep breath. “Name your amount. I shall fund your dowry, if you need me to, and that of your unmarried sisters as well.”
What was he talking about? She shook her head. “I am not asking for more money. I am only asking for you to treat me as an equal.”
His brow furrowed. “We are not equals.”
“Perhaps not by Societal standards, but for the purpose of this assignment, we are. You are the one who needs me.”
“Yes, and I am offering you additional compensation.”
“Is that how things work here in London?”
“I do not understand.”
“Is this how all of London works, or is it only you who is so arrogant you do not consider the thoughts and feelings of others?”
She moved away from the window, came further into the middle of the room, and was aware of the fact that they were alone in a bedchamber. She stilled her nerves. “Do you merely toss money about to get people to do your bidding?”
His jaw twitched again, but this time she would have sworn that she saw a whisper of a smile.
“Is that amusing, my lord?”
“It is somewhat amusing that you managed to summarize the entirety of proper Society in one simple phrase. Yes, that is precisely how things work here in London. Money can buy you anything.”
“Well, it cannot buy you a pretend queen.”
“I don’t think you’re considering what a large sum of money could do for you,” he said.
She knew what it could do for her. She could demand him purchase her a house and set her up with an allowance for life; that would ensure she be able to write and not be forced to marry. She longed for independence—from her family, the constraints on her gender, and most of all her mother’s incessant badgering. It wouldn’t be as bad if her mother even pretended to understand her middle daughter instead of continually trying to squeeze her into a mold that would not fit.
Oh, to have understanding and respect from her mother, but that would not happen; not because her mother didn’t love her, she did, in her own way, but they were too different. So Evie relied on her own self-respect. Allowing the Earl of Somersby to continue to insult her and bark orders at her as if she were lower than a servant would equal walking away from that respect. Wasn’t that the same thing as allowing her mother to force her into a marriage for money and prestige?
No, she could not do that and live with the treatment he’d give her. If he was a reasonable man, he could treat her better.
“I know what money can provide. I am not asking for much, Lord Somersby. I want you to trust me, trust that when I say I can do this, I mean it. Trust that when I give you my word of confidence, that I will keep it no matter what.”
“You do not know what you ask of me,” he said, his words tight and firm.
Was her request so difficult?
“If I agree to these terms, you will stay and fulfill your duties to the assignment?” he asked.
She nodded. “Treat me as you would a man if you required such for this task. I can assure you, I am not a simpleton. I’m rather well-read. Perhaps my mannerisms are too country for the likes of royalty, but I can be taught. If I can learn Latin, I can learn to walk like the Queen.” She was quiet a moment, then asked, “If you are so opposed to this charade, why are you the one they’ve asked to work with me? Certainly there are more men in your organization who could have taken your place.”
“Indeed, Miss Marrington, indeed.”
“Perhaps you could also apologize for the insults,” she said.
His brows rose. “Insults?”
“I shall let it go, the things you said about my family, they are not a part of this. But the things you said about my person, I cannot work with someone who believes me to be an idiot.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It matters not that you find me so unattractive, but I do not wish to be thought a fool.”
He took a step closer to her. “You believe I find you unattractive?”
“You suggest otherwise? I’m fairly certain that any lady who is criticized for having wild and large hair and a pedestrian gait would make the same summary that I have. As I said, that is inconsequential.”
“I do not think you a simpleton.” He inclined his head. “Anyone who can string the sentences together that you have today, calling out my actions and so forth. It is quite evident you are rather intelligent. It is apparent in your eyes.” He glanced at the clock on the mantle. “We leave for Buckingham on the morrow. Perhaps we could continue this downstairs. Continue your instructions, that is.”
So there was a gentleman inside of the Earl of Somersby. She found that realization both a relief and a concern, because someone so handsome could be dangerous were he also kind hearted.
“Do we have a bargain, Miss Marrington?” He held his hand out to her.
She eyed his offering, the large palm, his long fingers. She took his hand and it engulfed hers in a shake. “We have a bargain.” Why did she feel as if she’d just irrevocably sealed her fate?
“For the record, I am not my family,” she said once they had returned to his study.
There was such resolve in her features that he had no choice but to believe her, or at the very least to believe that she believed that. She was not her family. Obviously that meant she felt different in comparison.
Of course he’d seen the physical differences. Her sisters were all taller and more waif-like, not possessing Evelyn’s sensual curves. Their features, too, were more subtle, none of them sharing her titian curls or shrewd blue eyes, but he suspected she did not mean those particular virtues when she spoke of her differences.
He could argue with her, show her precisely how attractive he found her, but that would only serve in terrifying the girl, and if her mother knew, he would most assuredly be heading for the altar. It was better that Evelyn believe he found her unappealing.
He nodded to her admission. “Shall we again work on the walking?”
She strode across the room and there was purpose in her movement, but still something seemed wrong about her posture.
“Try holding your head up and straighten your shoulders,” he said.
Again she walked for him.
He shook his head.
“Show me?” she asked.
He stepped over and stood behind her, then put his hands on her waist. She stilled. He tried to ignore the gentle curve of her hips below his palms. He took one finger and slid it up the center of her spine. Her body responded and her shoulders straightened, her chin tilted up, and she sucked in a breath. Heat from her skin permeated through her dress, warming his fingers. Standing this close to her, he was surrounded by lavender and mint, scents utterly tantalizing and feminine. He resisted the urge to lean closer and inhale the coppery curls.
“Now, walk,” he said. He followed along behind her, keeping his hand on her back. “Keep your shoulders straight. That’s very good.”
>
She turned and faced him and they stood that way, with no words. Her lips parted and her wide eyes looked up at him.
He wanted to put his hands back on her waist, her back, anywhere. Damnation! What was the matter with him? “Perhaps we require a break.” He rang for tea and they took seats in front of the hearth. Minutes later their tea service arrived and no sooner had they been served their cups that she began peppering him with questions.
“What other books have you read besides Frankenstein?” she asked.
He stirred his tea. “I don’t get much reading time.” Not completely the truth, he read quite often, but he was not interested in getting into a discussion that could lead back to Frankenstein.
“I suppose, as an earl, you’re quite busy with the House of Lords.” She bit into a sugared cake and flecks of sugar stuck to her lips. “What do you think about the new civil marriage act that Parliament recently passed?”
He tried not to stare at her mouth. “I have no opinion.”
Her brow furrowed. “How can you have no opinion? Are you not a member of Parliament?”
“Technically, yes, I am, but I am not active. I am not political.” He took a sip, hoping she’d follow suit, and the liquid would wash the infernal tempting sweetness off her pink lips. He’d expected this assignment to be tedious and boring, but not tempting.
She shook her head in confusion. “You work for the Crown. Is that not extremely political?”
“No, it has nothing to do with politics.” His father had been a brilliant politician, but Bennett had never had the mind, nor patience for it. He served his country in other ways, notably by protecting. His brute strength had always been his greatest asset. “My duty is to the throne. I protect the throne, whomever sits upon it. I have no allegiance to them as a person, other than their birthright.” He stood and went to the window. He glanced back at her. “You have sugar on your lips.”
…
She’d just had an entire conversation with the most beautiful man she’d ever seen and the whole time she’d had food on her mouth. How was she supposed to pretend to be the queen when she couldn’t even go thirty minutes with an earl without embarrassing herself? She’d nearly swooned when he put his hands on her back. Obviously, she was too much of a goose; she would never be able to survive a real courtship. In truth, she was likely saving her mother a lifetime of embarrassment by refusing to entertain thoughts of marriage.