Entangled with the Earl (Tangled Threads Book 1)

by Lisbette Tomas

  It had stung more than she had expected, but to suddenly have the possibility reappear made her wary. There had to be something he was looking to get out of it.

  “What about the wedding night?”

  The question popped out before she could stop it, nerves on edge since that morning pushing it past her guard rather than allowing her to explore more tactful options. She couldn’t make herself look at Martin as the heat in her cheeks built.

  “Excited for it?” His voice was low and amused.

  Unable to meet his eyes, Teresa could feel her skin flushing even more as she shook her head. Her timid question to her aunt the night before had resulted in a comment about how surely she must have more knowledge than that, as a country girl. Too embarrassed then to admit that she only understood the very basics, she’d retreated to her room instead, doing her best to stay out of the way of the maids packing up her belongings.

  Her confusion and uncertainty must have shown on her face, because Martin reached out and put a hand on her knee. As his warmth seeped through the layers of fabric, it became impossible to keep her awareness from anything other than the outline of his hand on her.

  “Teresa.” Startled by the sound of her name, she looked up, meeting his gaze for the first time since she had mentioned the wedding night. It blazed golden in the late light. “I only take willing women to my bed.”

  His words — and the intensity in his tone — sliced through her tension, releasing her like a puppet freed from its strings. Slumping back against the cushions, she felt shudders of relief running through her body, even as guilt tugged at her conscience. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I know my duty and will do it, but…”

  Martin lifted his hand from her knee and reached out to tilt her chin up, bringing her gaze back up to his. He had taken off his gloves at some point, she realized, and the feeling of his bare fingers on her skin sent an entirely different set of shivers down her spine. “When you’re ready, Teresa, you have only to ask.”

  “And if I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready?” The words were barely more than a breath, mesmerized as she was by the light reflected in his eyes.

  “Then I’ll have to change your mind.” His thumb moved up to skim lightly over her bottom lip and suddenly it was impossible to get enough air. Time hung, just like it had during the kiss, and something was building inside her, low and heated and tight.

  He withdrew his hand, breaking the moment, and settled back into the cushions on his side of the carriage. “We’ll be traveling for a few more hours yet tonight. I might recommend you get some sleep. There will be a late supper waiting for us when we arrive at the inn.”

  Teresa stared as he leaned back, closing his eyes and obviously taking his own advice. With one touch, he’d completely undone all of her efforts to ignore how he made her body feel. The carriage was now too warm, her clothes too scratchy on oversensitive skin, and her mouth was dry.

  Half of her wanted to moan in frustration, especially at his unaffected demeanor, but half of her was grateful for the reprieve. That touch had been enough to show her that the kiss hadn’t been a fluke and she couldn’t trust her body’s responses to help her keep her head. She clearly needed better defenses, or else she might find herself in danger of losing more than her head.

  Despite that, she couldn’t help wondering why he hadn’t kissed her again or why it didn’t seem to affect him at all — and why that disappointed her so much. She was still trying to make sense of her emotions when the stress and nerves of the day caught up with her and she finally fell asleep.

  Chapter 13

  Twilight was an hour gone by the time the coach finally turned from the main road onto the road Martin said led to his estate. Teresa was relieved at this sign that the trip was nearly over. No matter how well-equipped the coach was for comfort — and as far as she could tell, Martin had spared no expense in that area — six long days of travel had tested her patience. The roads had grown progressively less well-traveled and bumpier as they had moved farther north and by the fifth morning she’d had to set aside her embroidery. Even Martin seemed worn down, the two of them riding along in silence as the countryside sped by outside the window.

  Despite that, it hadn’t been an unpleasant trip. Martin’s arrangements included meals and refreshments ready and waiting when they stopped to change the horses. Each night they stopped at a reputable and clean inn, where dinner awaited them in a private parlor before the innkeeper led them up to a pair of fine bedrooms. Martin even arranged for a lady’s maid at each of the stops — typically one of the inn’s serving girls — since Teresa didn’t have one of her own.

  He was clearly a familiar figure on the route, with people at every stop offering congratulations on his nuptials. Whenever she’d had a question about where they were, he’d been able to answer it without resorting to any reference material. Several times, he had pointed out historic landmarks on the route, promising her they would take the return trip to London for Parliament next year more slowly, so that she could explore those that were particularly interesting.

  Right now, however, she was most interested in a hot meal, a hot bath, and a horizontal surface that wasn’t moving. Compared to London, spring had less of a stronghold this far north, despite it being relatively late in the season. She’d already packed away all of her heavier dresses for the season and there hadn’t been time to pull any out for the trip; they were in the bottom of the trunks that followed along behind. Her pelisse helped some, but she couldn’t help wishing it was warmer.

  At least it hadn’t rained. The weather had remained clear, if chilly, and the roads were passably dry.

  “You’ll be able to see the house once we get to the top of the next hill.” Teresa looked up, startled to realize that Martin wasn’t dozing but was instead awake. He leaned forward to point out the window. “Right over there.”

  Turning to look, Teresa half-held her breath as the horses cleared the final rise and the house came into view. It was an older-looking house, with two wings extending forward to provide a semi-enclosed courtyard for the front entry. Several outbuildings sat off to one side and she could just catch glimpses of the ground beyond by the light of the moon. Her eye was caught by the lights flickering cheerfully in the windows, spilling out onto the ground with a welcoming glow.

  “It’s beautiful.” Nestled in the valley, it exuded a warmth that made her feel cozier just looking at it. She couldn’t wait to step inside, and something of her appreciation must have communicated itself to Martin, as he relaxed slightly, smiling at her as the carriage rolled down the hill.

  The horses must have recognized that they were almost home as well, as the pace seemed to quicken. One of Martin’s grooms had been waiting at the last posting house with his team, a beautifully matched set of chestnuts with strong legs and proud arches to their necks. It appeared Martin didn’t own a bad example of horseflesh. She wondered about the mount he might give her, excited by the prospect.

  That was for tomorrow, though. Hopefully. Tonight was a chair that didn’t bounce, a bed in her new home and, if she was really lucky, a bath.

  The last curves seemed to fly by and soon the carriage rumbled into the entryway, slowly rolling to a halt. As soon as they stopped, the front door swung open and a swarm of servants descended the steps, quickly spreading out to begin unloading the trunks from the back of the coach. One of the footmen moved to fold down the steps and opened the door.

  Emerging from the carriage after Martin, she squinted into the light as they ascended the steps up to the doorway. The warmth that enveloped her was a welcome change after the chill of the carriage and she just stood there, smiling. It was a comfortable foyer, wide enough to accommodate multiple guests arriving at once without feeling too crowded. At the moment, it was filled with several servants lined up, standing and waiting to meet their new mistress.

  It took Teresa a moment to realize that was her. She was now the mistress of a house.

  M
artin was already shedding his hat and traveling coat, handing them off to one of the footmen inside the door. Another footman was waiting at her elbow for her pelisse. She wanted to keep it, as rumpled as she felt from all the travel, but there was no helping that. Taking a deep breath, she removed her pelisse and squared her shoulders.

  At Martin’s nod, an older man wearing a butler’s uniform stepped forward. “Russell, may I present your new countess, Lady Carlington.” As the butler bowed, Martin looked at Teresa. “Russell has been with the family since my grandfather the Earl’s time.”

  Teresa blinked. Russell appeared to be in his early fifties, if that — not the age she would have expected of an old family retainer. Oblivious to her surprise, Martin was continuing with the introductions. “Mrs. Watts has been the housekeeper here for the last seven years, since her predecessor retired.”

  The middle-aged woman standing next to Russell dropped into a curtsy. Teresa looked her over, trying to remember what her mother had said about a good housekeeper. Many of her lessons had certainly emphasized how much in the house depended on the housekeeper.

  Mrs. Watts’s dress was sturdy and practical, the clothing of someone involved in running the household who knew she could be called to appear before the mistress of the house at any point yet also needed to be able to take on whatever tasks were necessary. Despite the hour, her appearance was neat and she seemed alert. Teresa knew her mother would have approved.

  Glancing down the remaining line of servants, Martin raised an eyebrow. “It seems a few people are missing here.”

  Rising from her curtsy, Mrs. Watts bobbed her head. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but we thought that with the travel and the weather being what it was, the lady might wish to have dinner and a bath in her room as soon as possible.”

  “Oh, bless you.” Propriety said she should insist on meeting all the servants now, but Teresa was exhausted from all the travel. Mrs. Watts had just won immediate entry into her good graces. “That sounds wonderful.”

  Martin snapped his mouth shut on whatever he had been about to say in the face of her clear approval, as Mrs. Watts bobbed in another curtsy. Motioning to one of the housemaids behind her, she said, “Miriam will show you to your rooms, my lady. I had them start drawing the bath when we saw the carriage on the hill, so it should be just about ready for you.”

  Feeling slightly guilty, Teresa glanced at Martin to see if he objected. He had turned to Russell, apparently unconcerned, asking him if Allsworth was in the house. Reassured that he didn’t seem to require her presence, Teresa turned and followed the maid up the stairs. There would be more time to talk with Martin again once she’d gotten the bath and freshened up, after all.

  A small fire was burning merrily in the large stone fireplace that dominated one wall of her room, a tub of steaming water in front of it. As she entered, the footmen had just deposited the last of her trunks in the dressing room and bowed respectfully to her before leaving. Miriam closed the door softly behind them.

  “Can I assist you, my lady?”

  Teresa tried to remember what she had packed in her valise. The travel had taken its toll and she was exhausted enough that finding the energy to dress for dinner suddenly seemed impossible. Not that there was any reason she had to — Mrs. Watts had said she would have dinner brought up. “My dressing gown and nightclothes from the valise, I think. And then your assistance with this dress would be appreciated.”

  Her traveling clothes might be easier to put on and remove than a ballgown, but that still didn’t mean she was capable of the contortions needed to undo the back buttons. Especially not when she was so stiff after spending six days in a carriage.

  Fortunately, Miriam proved to be quite familiar with the intricacies of ladies’ fashionable clothing — something Teresa hadn’t expected out this far in the country. A quick question revealed that she had been a lady’s maid in London before moving out to Moorhall a year prior to marry one of the groomsmen.

  “Thank you. I can take care of myself from here.”

  Miriam bobbed into a quick curtsy before rising. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll begin to unpack your trunks, my lady.”

  Teresa nodded and Miriam turned to the dressing room, pulling the door closed behind her. Once alone, Teresa made quick work of removing the rest of her clothes and eased herself into the steaming water, sucking in a breath as she did so.

  There hadn’t been time for a bath at any of the inns along the way. Teresa had done her best with the pitcher and wash cloths, but it didn’t compare to the indulgence of sinking into a tub of hot water and letting the heat soak in to her skin.

  She sat there with her eyes closed, leaning back to allow the water to work its magic on her shoulders as much as possible and simply breathing in and out. As the heat finally chased away the last of the chills, she began to feel almost human again and finally opened her eyes to look around the room.

  The bedroom itself was easily larger than any other she had called her own, dominated on one side by the large four-poster bed and on the other side by the stone fireplace. The bed curtains were drawn back to the corners and tied and the blankets looked warm and inviting. To one side, a pair of windows looked out over the grounds away from the courtyard, she thought, although in the darkness it was hard to tell. A small table with a pair of chairs sat near the windows, placed to take advantage of the light during the day, while an oil lamp burned merrily on the table now.

  Opposite the windows were the door she had entered through, as well as the door to the dressing room, where she could hear Miriam quietly working to unpack the trunks. One last door was set to the right of the fireplace and Teresa puzzled over it for a moment before realizing it likely led to Martin’s bedroom.

  Flushing, she decided this was not the time to dawdle in the bath. Letting her hair out of its braid, she dunked her head beneath the water and scrubbed her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. Miriam had set out soap, which she quickly put to good use, happily scrubbing away the grime from the road. The footmen had left a large pitcher of water standing next to the tub and she used it to rinse the soap out of her hair and off her body before grabbing the towel sitting next to it.

  “Miriam?” The young woman’s head appeared from behind the dressing room door within seconds, before disappearing and reappearing with more towels and Teresa’s nightgown. She worked with brisk efficiency and soon Teresa was dry and dressed in her nightgown.

  Despite the fact that she had chosen it for warmth, not fashion, she could still feel some of the chill in the air. The fire in the fireplace was enough to take the edge off of it but not banish it completely, and she wrapped herself in her dressing gown before sitting down in front of the mirror in the dressing room to allow Miriam to brush and rebraid her hair.

  “Mrs. Watts said there was a choice between soup or pie for dinner, my lady, and that I was to let her know as soon as you were decided.” Miriam’s hands were gentle, for all that they worked swiftly in her hair.

  Teresa thought for a moment. “The soup, I think.” She hesitated. “Do you know if Lord Carlington is taking dinner in his room?”

  Miriam shook her head. “I believe Mrs. Watts said he was eating with Mr. Allsworth in the library. With all the business that piles up when he’s away during the Season, she says it’s not uncommon for him to spend several hours with him after returning back.”

  “Oh.” Teresa wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. They had only been married for six days and yet it already seemed odd to eat dinner alone. Still, she was famished and he likely would want to tackle the business now if that was his normal routine.

  Finished with the braid, Miriam slipped out of the room, presumably to find the housekeeper and pass along the dinner request. Digging through her valise, Teresa found a pair of house slippers and the novel she had packed to read during the ride north. She hadn’t touched it much over the ride, but it would certainly serve to entertain her over dinner — wh
ich turned out to be a most excellent vegetable and ham soup accompanied by warm rolls with butter.

  The simple food helped settle a stomach she hadn’t realized was upset from the six days of constant movement and by the end of the meal, Teresa was feeling much better — and much more tired — than she had in days. Unable to resist the siren song of the bed for any longer, she rang for a maid to collect the dinner dishes.

  She’d hardly slipped between the covers before the exhaustion of the past week caught up with her and she was fast asleep.

  *

  Martin had to admit he was taken aback by Teresa’s enthusiasm for a bath over the formalities of the introduction of the new lady of the house. The Duke his grandfather would certainly have frowned on it, given how much of a stickler he was for protocol and presenting the proper image at all times. Abdicating that responsibility in favor of personal comfort was simply not done.

  And yet, Martin couldn’t really blame Teresa for her decision. The weather, although clear, had been cooler than expected for this time of year. He’d arranged for hot bricks at every posting house, once he’d realized how cold she was, but they had done little to take the chill out of the carriage, and the roads had clearly suffered some from the spring rains.

  Hardly ideal travel conditions.

  No, if he was truly honest with himself, he was currently jealous of the fact that his new wife was soaking in a tub of hot water. Without him.

  He might have promised her that he only took willing women to his bed — and that was very much true — but he had every intention of reminding her just how willing she was, and quickly. It had taken all of his self-control to pull back and not kiss her senseless that first afternoon and he’d only managed to do so because it had been neither the time nor the place, not with all the travel they still had ahead of them.

  She deserved better for her first time than the bouncing bench of the carriage or the uncertain surroundings of an inn.