Entangled with the Earl (Tangled Threads Book 1)

by Lisbette Tomas

Now, though, the travel was over. They had arrived safely at his ancestral home and his new wife was upstairs, likely wet and naked. From her body’s response, he didn’t think she would take much persuasion to allow him to introduce her to the wonders of the marriage bed.

  And here he sat in the library, going over the various crises that had come up during his absence with his estate manager. Not for the first time, he wondered if some of the ton were right and there was something off about him.

  Unbidden, his grandfather’s words rung in his memory again, as clear as the first time the old man had said them to a six-year old Martin. “You have a responsibility to the people under your care, Martin. Far too many forget that, but you cannot. What you have rests on the fruits of their labors. If you want to flourish, they have to as well.”

  Even at that age, Martin had been able to recognize the judgment of his father implicit in those words.

  Not that the old Duke’s philosophy had stemmed from an altruistic nature or anything of that sort. It had been a matter of the purest practicality for him. Well-managed estates and happier tenants produced more income and fewer problems. Neglected estates were inefficient at best and at their worst, presented an active drain on one’s resources.

  And when the lord in question actively drains the estate itself for more money for his excesses, everyone suffers. Even ten years later, the estate still paid for his father’s sins.

  The burden felt heavier tonight than normal, his focus scattered despite knowing that Allsworth wouldn’t have been wasting his time on trivial concerns. Martin might spend more time on the details of his estate than most gentlemen considered necessary, but even he knew he couldn’t keep up with the day to day demands of Moorhall.

  David Allsworth had been young and untried when they had met at Oxford — David the son of a country vicar and Martin the young lord with no ability to promise anything — but they had kept up a sporadic acquaintance. When it had become clear that Martin wouldn’t be able to work with his father’s crony, Martin had trusted his instincts and taken the risk in hiring Allsworth, knowing the man’s character and philosophy mirrored his own. It had paid off in the years since, and there was no one he trusted more to handle the estate. That didn’t change the fact that some decisions required his opinion.

  “What did Barrington & Barstow have to say about the will?” Most of the estate staff knew that his maternal grandfather had passed away during his absence for the Season, but that was all. He had kept the news about his inheritance — and the attached conditions — private, with the exception of a short letter to Allsworth.

  “It was solid. The condition stands.” Martin’s lips quirked up in a quick, humorless smile. “The Duke of Debenford was a guest at the wedding breakfast before we left and said he would speak with his lawyers about transferring the funds. I would expect to hear that it’s complete within the next few weeks.”

  “Then allow me to offer you my congratulations, sir.” David straightened the stack of papers in front of him, the remnants of dinner pushed to one side. “I caught a glimpse of the countess when you arrived. She seems quite lovely.”

  Martin half-shrugged, preferring to think about anything other than the physical attractiveness of his countess right then. “You’ll get the chance to meet her tomorrow. Mrs. Watts took her up to get settled in the Countess’s suite tonight.”

  He considered it fortunate that he’d finally renovated the bedroom wing the year before. It would have been impossible to do so on such short notice via mail from London and no self-respecting woman of the ton would have been willing to suffer the rooms in the state they’d been.

  Glancing over at Allsworth, Martin pushed back his chair. “Was there anything else that required my attention tonight?”

  Allsworth shook his head. “That was the worst of it. The rest can wait until tomorrow or the day after. If you do ride out tomorrow, you might stop by the Robins’ tomorrow to see how the new roof turned out, before we go ahead and do the rest of them.”

  Martin grunted assent. “Assuming the weather cooperates, and there’s little reason to think it won’t. Ares will want to stretch his legs after so long in London, even with the trip back up here.” Rising, he motioned to Allsworth to remain seated. “I expect to take breakfast at eight, if you want to meet with me afterward. I should have a better idea of things then.”

  “Very well.” Allsworth continued to organize his papers as Martin stepped out, feeling restless and unsettled. He’d planned to share a private dinner with his wife after the introductions had been finished, to find out her impressions of the estate and continue their introduction to each other. Falling back on the usual routine after she disappeared for a bath had been a decision made out of habit and an unwillingness to stand around, waiting for her. That would have implied …something, he wasn’t quite sure what.

  He didn’t like feeling out of control, a feeling that was becoming all too familiar when it came to his wife.

  Russell was waiting for him near the stairs with the news that Teresa had already been served dinner in her room. Taking the stairs two at a time, he knocked lightly on the door to her bedroom.

  No response.

  He knocked again, then pushed the door slowly open. Light still flickered from a single candle on the nightstand, but Teresa was sound asleep in the bed, a book on the pillow beside her. She looked so small and exhausted that he abandoned any notion of waking her up in favor of just letting her sleep. There would be time enough in the morning for them to talk.

  Moving the book to the nightstand, he blew out the candle and then went in search of a footman. She’d had the right idea when it came to getting all the road dirt off. The housekeeper knew his routine and with luck the footmen would have already shifted the basin to his room, so it would only need filling now.

  If nothing else, maybe the routine would help him focus on his responsibilities here. He desperately hoped that once he actually made love to his wife, he would be able to put her out of mind at will. Anything else was too risky to contemplate.

  Chapter 14

  When the maid finally woke her, Teresa was surprised to find that she had managed to sleep through the light filtering through the curtains and the stoking of the fire. She had never been one to laze about in bed until the morning was half-over and her face flushed to have given that impression her first morning here, no matter how exhausted she had been from the travel.

  She dressed quickly in one of her nicer morning dresses before heading down the stairs, where Russell intercepted her and pointed her in the direction of the breakfast room. Opening the door, she was surprised to find it empty, with no sign of her husband. She turned back to Russell.

  “Do you know where Martin is?” She flushed slightly, still feeling awkward about calling Martin by his Christian name. Russell appeared not to notice.

  “He might have ridden out to visit with some of the tenants, my lady, but I don’t know for sure. I believe he’s already had breakfast, but indicated that we should keep the food warm for you.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed her disappointment. “Thank you.”

  The breakfast room was cozy, with a small dining table and four chairs grouped by the window that looked out over the estate gardens. Several plates of food sat covered on a buffet to one side and a place was set for her at the table. The smells were delectable and her stomach rumbled, reminding her that last night’s dinner had been quite a while ago.

  Determined to enjoy the meal even if she was eating alone, she piled toast, eggs, and ham onto her plate. Everything available was hearty country fare, reminding her of breakfasts with her parents — one of her favorite meals of the day. That had been before more than three years of the airy pastries her aunt favored, which always left her feeling hungry well before it was time for lunch or tea. She’d gone from loving breakfast to dreading the unsatisfying food.

  Making quick work of the food, she stared down at her empty plate. I think I am unlikely to dis
like the food here. Both meals so far had been simple compared to the elaborate spreads prepared in town, but delicious and satisfying. She made a mental note that she should be sure to compliment the cook on his skill.

  The door swung open, startling her. Martin stood there, framed by the doorway, before he stepped inside and it swung shut behind him. Teresa watched without saying anything as he picked up a plate from the buffet and loaded it with several slices of toast and some of the cooling ham before moving to take the seat across from her.

  His appearance would have caused quite a stir in town. No fancy clothes befitting a gentleman of the ton here, just simple clothes suitable for riding or meeting with tenants. She might almost have mistaken them as clothes from the tenants except the fabric was finer than most would be able to afford. Still, he wouldn’t look out of place working alongside them in the field.

  Martin motioned to her empty plate. “I trust the food met with your approval? I should have warned you during the carriage ride that I keep a simpler life — and earlier hours — here than London Society would deem fashionable.”

  That explained the clothing at least, if not the lack of greeting. Teresa reminded herself that this was new for both of them — and to be fair, she had slept much later than she normally did, something he had no way of knowing.

  The implied criticism still stung.

  “I grew up in the country and my parents preferred to keep things simple.” She nodded at the spread of food remaining on the buffet. “This is much more to my taste than what the ton considers an acceptable breakfast in London. I’m just sorry I didn’t make it down soon enough to enjoy it while it was still warm, but apparently the travel took more out of me than I’d realized.”

  Her tone was tarter than she would have liked and she winced internally. She disagreed vehemently with her aunt over whether a lady was supposed to display any emotions at all, but Society had taught her that any negative emotion was a weakness and would be exploited as such. She’d fought hard to learn to control herself during that first year, in order to present a facade that appeared unconcerned with what they were saying about her.

  None of that explained why this control disappeared any time she was near Martin. Taking a deep breath, she tried to shake the irritation off and extend a conversational olive branch. “I did enjoy what I had, very much. The cook does a wonderful job.”

  Martin’s expression lost a little bit of its stiffness at that. “He’ll be gratified to have someone who appreciates breakfast more than my half-hearted attempts to do it justice.”

  Teresa flushed, a quick glance at the remaining food showing just how much of it she had devoured. “My father always insisted that a good breakfast was the key to having enough energy to get through the day.”

  “Perhaps I should consider it.” Martin took another bite of his ham and toast. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Very well, thank you. I’d missed how quiet the country was.”

  He chuckled a little at that. “It’s less quiet here than you might think.”

  “Quiet enough compared to London! I didn’t hear any carts rolling past my window this morning. That might be part of why I slept so late.”

  Martin shrugged. “You should choose a time for breakfast that works for you. Simply let the servants know when to have breakfast waiting and it will be here for you.”

  Teresa frowned. “I thought you might join me for breakfast.”

  Martin quirked an eyebrow up at her. “And what purpose would that serve?”

  For a moment, Teresa thought he was joking. Didn’t he remember any of her comments about facing his wife across the breakfast table? But a quick glance at his face said that wasn’t the case. “To spend time with each other? To talk about what we might do during the day? To enjoy each other’s company?” She struggled to keep her voice even.

  Martin looked at her blankly. “I thought I had been clear when we talked before, about what I was looking for in a bride. The estate here requires a great deal of my time and attention. I don’t have time to entertain you on a daily basis.”

  “I’m not looking for you to entertain me. I’m looking to be a part of your life.” Breakfast now sat like a hard lump in her stomach, but she forced herself to ignore it. Losing her temper at his arrogance, however much she might want to, was not going to yield the results she needed. “I’m not interested in sitting idle all day while you work. There must be something I could do to help.”

  From the way Martin sat back and blinked, it was clear that the idea that she might want to help had never occurred to him. Sensing the advantage, she pressed her case.

  “At the very least, I need to know what to anticipate during the day to keep the household running well. If you’re going to be working late, it makes sense for me to plan dinner to take that into account.”

  “You have a point with that.” His voice was thoughtful and Teresa wanted to hold her breath. She would go mad if her only responsibility was to sit and play generous lady of the estate. Her mother had worked right alongside her father, whether it was on estate management or their book, and she had dreamed of sharing that kind of relationship with her husband.

  Of course, she’d dreamed of being married for love.

  Well, love might not be in the cards for her, but she wasn’t giving up on her demand that Martin treat her like an equal. It mattered now more than ever and she would drive that point home every chance she got.

  “I promise I don’t normally sleep this late. It wouldn’t disrupt your schedule much to eat breakfast with me and at least let me know what to expect for the day.” She hoped it sounded persuasive and not pleading.

  “We can give it a try.” Martin sounded unconvinced, but Teresa wasn’t about to let him back down.

  “Then that’s settled.” She glanced around the breakfast room again, unsure what to say next. “I suppose I’ll see you at dinner, then?”

  Martin cleared his throat. “Actually, I came by to see if you would be interested in joining me for a ride around the estate before lunch.”

  Teresa blinked, surprised. “Now?”

  “If you’d like.” Martin shrugged one shoulder. “I did offer to see which horse I had that might suit you, during the carriage ride, and I need to see you ride to make a decision.”

  “Oh.” She certainly hadn’t forgotten the offer, but that he was making time for it now when there had to be business that had built up over the months in town — she suddenly felt guilty about her earlier irritation with him. “I’d like that.”

  She stood and he rose to match her, picking up his last piece of toast. “Then I’ll meet you in the stables.”

  He was out the door before she could gather her thoughts enough to reply, leaving her staring at the buffet as his footsteps echoed down the hallway. She was still staring a minute later when one of the footmen appeared in the doorway with a questioning look. “Are you finished, my lady?”

  Startled, she looked up to realize he was waiting to clear away the food from the side buffet. Her face flushed. “Oh, yes. Thank you.”

  Thinking about this was getting her nowhere. She headed for her room. At least one of her riding habits had to be unpacked by now. Hopefully it would be easy to find. She didn’t want to keep Martin waiting any longer than necessary.

  *

  Ares pranced as Martin led him out into the corral, clearly glad to be back in the country and anxious to stretch his legs. It had been far too long since they had been out for a gallop and Martin felt a flicker of guilt, as it was unlikely he would be able to remedy that today — not while out with Teresa, at any rate. Even if Teresa was a good enough horsewoman for a gallop, Hestia — already tethered near the mounting block, waiting for her rider — would never keep up with Ares.

  Next ride, he promised Ares silently. And soon. They both needed the chance to run free. In the meantime, the challenge of keeping Ares in hand would help distract him from the puzzle that was his wife.

  He still
wasn’t sure exactly what it was he had said that had irritated her quite so much over the breakfast table. Did she think he was upset that she had kept town hours? He’d hardly given it any thought, although if she was serious about wanting to join him for breakfast, she shouldn’t expect him to put estate business on hold for her.

  Beyond that, he was completely unsure how to interpret her desire to help with the estate. He was the first to admit that his experience with the ladies of Society was limited, primarily by choice. Most of them had seemed to focus on fashion and gossip. Occasionally someone would organize a musicale in support of a charitable cause, but even those seemed more focused on drawing attention to the benevolence of the hostess than actually taking responsibility for those less fortunate.

  His mother had never spared a thought for the drain her modiste bill put on the estate. Not that his father had been any better.

  Bluntly put, Teresa was unlike any woman he had ever encountered. Every attempt he had made so far to predict how she would react to something he said or did had failed. That made him nervous.

  He frowned and shook his head. Clearly several days of unfulfilled lust had had more of an impact than he’d realized, if he was nervous about this. He needed to bed his wife and quickly. Once this physical obsession was no longer driving him, he could assess where they really stood with each other.

  He caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye and looked up to see Teresa walking across the courtyard, dressed in a practical riding habit of warm brown. A point in her favor, he decided, that she had eschewed the more extravagant and silly trend of flounces and laces that had appeared during the Season. Any horsewoman worth her seat would, given the risk of startling any mount more lively than the most placid of lady’s mares.

  She waved at him when she noticed his attention but didn’t approach, clearly respectful of Ares. Waving over a groom, Martin handed him the reins and walked over to meet her where she stood at the gate. Her eyes were glued to the stallion, who seemed to sense he had a female admirer and tossed his head accordingly, stamping one foot.