Attracted to the Earl

by Bronwen Evans

  “I’m more concerned about what, or whom, his lordship wants.”

  “I’m no longer a young girl dazzled by a handsome face. Besides, I could do with a distraction with a kind and handsome man right now.”

  Molly was on her misspoken words before she could swallow them back. “Why? What do you need a distraction from?” Molly rounded on her, nostrils flaring. “You’ve been preoccupied ever since Haxby. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, honestly, I’m just worried about not finding the orchid. Lady Calthorpe thinks it’s a forgone conclusion that I shall find the plant, and it’s not.” Abigail laughed at Molly’s frown. “I’m here to paint the orchid, that’s all. It will bring in more work. Only a few more commissions and we will be set for life. Dora will have the choices I never had.”

  As Molly walked past her to follow Dora, she said, “Then best there not be any scandal while we are here.”

  Abigail slumped into a chair by the fire and let Molly’s warning sink home. As if she didn’t already have enough to worry about.

  Chapter 10

  Guy’s head was all the better from having had a good night’s sleep. While he was going to be accompanying Abigail to ensure she did not learn that which she should not, he looked forward to the outing.

  He stood while Kit tied his cravat. “The one thing that burned in my sore head last night was why Mother allowed Abigail to bring me a book in my room.”

  “I very much doubt that. Your mother took to her bed distraught at the implications of your injury. Miss Pinehurst was aware of that.”

  So she had come to test him with the book. “We have a problem. I believe our Miss Pinehurst has an inkling I cannot read. I may have managed to put her off the trail yesterday but she does not strike me as a stupid woman.”

  Kit hesitated in his cravat tying. “I should hear from Dougray soon. If she met with Patrick we will know.” He pulled the knot tight. “Just be careful.”

  “One beautiful woman is not going to be my undoing, I assure you.”

  Kit smiled. “If she is in league with Patrick he most likely has information about her he is using to force her, or perhaps he’s merely threatened her. I don’t take her as a woman who would do anything for money.”

  “I agree, and that makes her more dangerous. If her motive was money, I’d simply offer to pay her more to move on. However, if Patrick has threatened her, or her sister, in some way…Perhaps it’s time to use some of my famed charm to try and get her to trust me and tell me why she is really here.”

  Kit’s hands curled into fists. “I plan to watch over Dora. If Patrick has issued any threats against her…well, if he touches Dora I’ll kill him.”

  Guy placed his hand on Kit’s shoulder. “That would solve all of our problems, but I’d hate to see you hang over a man like Patrick Neville. I’ll deal with him when the time is right.” With that he made his way downstairs, determined to begin his campaign to seduce Abigail Pinehurst and ensure no matter what she did manage to learn, she’d never betray him.

  Kit followed him. “Miss Pinehurst doesn’t strike me as a woman who will easily fall for a handsome face, Guy. She’s older, experience is visible in her eyes.”

  Guy stopped on the halfway landing. “Are you saying I’ve lost my touch? I’m an earl now, don’t forget.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. She’s clever enough to know nothing can come of any liaison with you. Why would she risk her reputation and livelihood by having a dalliance with you?”

  Kit had a point. But Guy already knew she was not immune to him. There was a spark present between them that had ignited into flames when he’d kissed her. He just had to find out how to feed the desire he saw swirling in her lovely eyes, and helping her find the Ghost Orchid would probably make her so euphoric her defenses might lower.

  Before he could reply, his mother arrived at the top of the stairs. “You look so much better today, my sweet boy,” she said when she reached him and patted his cheek. “No more tripping over logs in that forest. Leave Brodie to escort Miss Pinehurst. You have duties here. Besides, Lady Margaret and Miss Emile Platt are calling for tea this afternoon and I want you to attend.”

  He heard rather than saw Kit’s strangled chuckle. “I am merely escorting Miss Pinehurst to Rose’s cottage to thank her for her hospitality when I was indisposed yesterday. I will then leave Brodie to guide her in the forest. However, there is much to do before Patrick arrives so I will be ensconced in my office for the rest of the day.”

  “You will present yourself at my drawing room at three in the afternoon.” She flashed a look at Kit before adding, “You know my views on marriage. It is your duty. If anything happens to you, like the accident yesterday—well, I do not wish to see your cousin become the earl.”

  Kit gave Guy a nod before discreetly leaving them alone.

  “Mother, you expect me to marry on a lie. I will not reveal my—”

  “You don’t have to love her, just get her with child.”

  “Are you listening to yourself? This is not like you. Look how your marriage turned out—misery and loneliness. You did not even like Father. What a sad life to lead. I will not do that to myself, and if that is selfish then too bad.”

  His mother’s eyes filled with tears and she reached out a hand to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry, that was deplorable. But I worry so much. I’ve been at the mercy of a cruel man once before in my life, and I can’t go through it again. Thank goodness Martha is safe.”

  Guy noted the worry lines around his mother’s eyes and the way she wrung her hands. He thought about Abigail’s comments about choices. It seemed time was not going to allow him to dally in choosing a wife, but he loathed the idea of having to hide his debility for the rest of his life. He would prefer time to find a woman who could overlook his inability to read. A marriage of convenience would be unlikely to lead to confidence sharing. And would be lonely. He’d been alone for too long already, and had looked forward to choosing a wife, but that was before he became the earl. The woman he would be expected to wed—would they chose a man like him if he did not have a title or money?

  He bent and kissed his mother’s cheek, taking her hands in his. “I will see you at three. Please don’t worry. I will make finding a wife my priority as soon as we get through Patrick’s visit, but I will not be rushed.”

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Thank you. I know it’s a lot for you to take on so shortly after Reggie’s death, but you were always the strong and clever one. You had to be, given how your father treated you.”

  “Clever? Then why can I not read?”

  “God works in mysterious ways. He has made you face many challenges and you have always overcome. It has made you into an amazingly honorable, kind man. That is God’s gift to the world. A man who defends the less fortunate. Still, I will never forgive my—”

  Guy pulled her in for a hug. “Shh. I know you could not intervene. If you had it would have only been worse for me. He’d likely have sent me to an asylum. Let’s be thankful for small mercies.” He gave his mother one more gentle hug before stepping back. “Now I’m off to visit Rose and give my thanks. Then I shall return and be the perfect gentleman for you this afternoon.”

  “And you will seriously consider Lady Margaret?”

  He turned from her with a smile on his face. “Don’t push your luck. Be thankful that I will at least meet with her.”

  * * *

  —

  Abigail decided to go to the stables before she was due to meet Guy. She wanted to try and mend the damage she’d done when last talking with Brodie. If he was to be her escort, she needed him to let down the defenses he erected after her clumsy questioning.

  “Good morning, Brodie. I thought I’d saddle Lady’s Secret myself and get to know her better.” An apt name for the pretty mare she’d been given, for Abigail was hiding secrets.

  Brodie stopped next to her, holding his lordship’s saddle. “She does love the apples you brought
her. And she also loves being ridden. No one has been here to ride her except the stable lads since his lordship’s sister married.” He scratched Lady’s Secret’s nose. “All horses love to be ridden, and they love bonding with their rider. She’ll love the fact you are taking her out every day.”

  Just then a horse near the back of the stall reared and started kicking the wooden walls. “Excuse me, that’s Gallivant. The gelding has had a touch of colic so he’s stable bound for a while and he doesn’t like it.” When a wood splitting sound reached them, Brodie dumped Bolton’s saddle and ran down the path between the stalls.

  Abigail called after him, “Shall I saddle Bolton for you?” She looked over at the large stallion standing quietly in his stall. Perhaps that was not such a good idea. Just then she spied a man hovering near the doorway. “Could you saddle Bolton for his lordship, as Brodie is busy with the gelding you hear.”

  The man hesitated then finally stepped forward and picked up the saddle by her feet. Abigail turned her attention to saddling the mare, and soon she was leading Lady’s Secret into the courtyard, where she looked up to see Guy striding toward her. She could not stop herself admiring the man. She could imagine him as an officer on the battlefield. He had that posture of command. Tall, straight back, wide shoulders, and a long confident stride.

  It was only while drinking in the delicious sight of his approach that she remembered she did not get the same impression of confidence when he walked within the grand residence he owned. It must have been difficult for an army officer, used to travel and the outdoors, to have to suddenly take over the running of the estate. She wondered if he felt the yoke of being responsible for everything around for miles. What was it that Patrick had her searching for? She was beginning to get frustrated and thought maybe he was the madman she thought him to be. There was nothing to find.

  A shiver caught her body and shook her. That made Patrick even more dangerous.

  “Why is that frown on your lovely face?” Guy looked up at the sky. “Is it because the clouds have rolled in and you think it might rain? I assure you we should have a few hours of dry.”

  How did she tell him that she was frowning because she wondered why a man who looked so confident when roaming outside seemed to shrink when he went inside his home? “Bolton is impatiently waiting for you, my lord. If we are to beat the rain shall we go?” She allowed Guy to help her mount and tried to suppress the sizzling bolt that went through her body at his touch.

  She tried to gather her composure as she waited for him to lead Bolton from the stable and mount. They walked side by side out of the stable yard toward the sweeping expanse of open paddock.

  “I must let you know that I have a guest arriving, tomorrow. My cousin, Mr. Patrick Neville.” He seemed to be watching her as if for a reaction.

  Without missing a heartbeat she uttered, “If you are worried about us being in the way, don’t be. I shall ensure Dora knows to keep out of your way. I shall be in the forest most of the day anyway, and we will keep to our rooms at night.”

  “There is no need for that. You are our guests. Mother has organized a dinner during the week to welcome Patrick and invited our neighbors, you are both most welcome to attend.”

  Like the hunted fox, her options were limited. If she protested too much about joining the party he would be suspicious, but she didn’t want Dora anywhere near that man. If she said yes too easily he would suspect her of—of what exactly? She had not revealed her hand, of that she was certain. Best to go with the middle ground.

  “If your mother approves then I see no reason why we would not be delighted to join you.”

  “She will approve.” With that he pointed east. “I’ll take you a different path to Rose’s house, away from the forest, along the Clover stream. A lot of the tenants and their children fish for trout there. It helps them with food.”

  “You take good care of your tenants.”

  “We need each other. I need fit and healthy workers, and they need me to ensure they get enough food and so forth in order to fulfill their roles.”

  She looked at him and saw something more. He cared. He cared about people, especially those around him, and he did not care how wealthy they were. She thought about the difference between Guy and his horrid cousin, Patrick. Patrick cared for no one but himself. She thought about what the lives of the tenants would be like under a man as evil and cruel as Patrick.

  If she told Guy the truth, would he help her? Would he protect her like he did his tenants and those who worked for him?

  Before she came to a conclusion, he said, “I’ll race you to the willow trees across the paddock. First one there can claim a reward.” With that he galloped off, and on a laugh she kicked her heels and urged Lady’s Secret after Bolton. She knew she would never catch the stallion but she hoped the reward he would ask for was a kiss.

  Guy was a gentleman, and he slowed enough for her to almost catch him. Then like a true competitor he rose in his stirrups, leaning over Bolton’s neck, and urged the stallion into a gallop.

  They had almost reached the first willow tree when there was a loud snapping sound and she watched with her heart in her throat, as Guy and his saddle went sideways, sliding off the steed.

  She cried out as he hit the ground at great speed, his legs tangling in the stirrups but luckily not the reins. He hit the ground with a thump. Bolton began bucking in his sudden freedom, but thankfully slowed to a walk down near the trees.

  She pulled her horse to a stop and slid to the ground, racing to Guy’s side. He lay on his back, eyes closed, gasping for air. The fall must have knocked the breath from him. “Try to relax and let your breathing come.” She felt the back of his head, no bump. He hadn’t hit his head, thank goodness after yesterday’s fall. Her hands pulled at his cravat to loosen it as he still struggled to breathe normally. One of his hands was clutching his side and she pried it away and gently pushed. Guy’s face contorted in pain. Abigail thought he might have broken or cracked a rib or two where he landed on the saddle pommel.

  She looked around. They could not be seen from the house. “Will you be all right while I ride for help?”

  His breathing was easier, although she noted the catch of pain in each breath. “My saddle slipped.”

  “I know.”

  “Give me a minute to get my breath back, and I think if you help me, I should be able to mount Bolton and ride home. I’m sorry our excursion is over for the day.”

  She brushed some strands of hair off his forehead. His face had paled from the pain. “Rose and the Ghost Orchid can wait. Let’s just rest a moment while you recover your breath.”

  “Come closer.”

  She leaned closer, he must be in such pain, but that notion was abused when he suddenly lifted his head and pressed his lips to hers. She smiled as he kissed her. Not that badly hurt, then.

  Finally his strength waned and his head dropped back to the ground and he groaned. “I would have won the race, so I was simply taking my reward.”

  She lay down on the fragrant grass beside him, her face resting on her palm propped up by her elbow. “For a man who probably has two cracked ribs, I did not think winning a race would be on your mind, or claiming a reward.”

  “I didn’t wish to waste an opportunity.” He turned his head to scope the field. “How long do you think it will be before someone comes looking if we simply stay here?”

  “I suspect a long time. Rose would simply think we’d changed our minds.”

  “Kit will come looking. I’m expected back in two hours.”

  Abigail looked at the darkening sky. “You want to risk staying here for two hours, on this hard ground, when you are in pain? We may also get wet.”

  “When you smile at me I can’t feel any pain.”

  She had to laugh. “You are such a rake. Do most women fall for that pretty talk?”

  “No comment, except that you are not most women.” He reached out and ran a finger over her lips. “You are so beautif
ul.”

  Abigail had been called that many times. Her mother had used her beauty ruthlessly. How could she explain that hearing the words had the opposite effect on her than what they would on most women. It turned her insides stone cold.

  “Beauty fades, my lord. A woman needs more than beauty in this world.”

  Guy’s smile faded. “True. But there is no crime in admiring beautiful things.”

  “I’m not a thing.”

  “So much for my seductive prose.” He started to laugh and ending up holding his side, grimacing. He said, “Another kiss would make it better.”

  Bad idea, very bad, but she ignored that little voice in her head. She leaned over and pressed her lips to his in a gentle touch. His mouth opened under hers and she couldn’t help slipping her tongue into his warmth and drinking the taste of him. Soon a gentle kiss turned to heat and longing, and on a pain-filled grunt he pulled her on top of him and held her tightly as he plundered her mouth.

  I must be hurting him, but when she tried to pull back his hold tightened.

  The feel of his erection, instead of frightening her or making her cautious, injected a long-forgotten desire for intimacy into her blood, until she felt as if her body was on fire. Her hand trailed down over his jacket, she could not feel the muscles underneath, but the hidden strength was obvious. Her hand found his groin and she molded her fingers over his pulsing erection, her blood heating more as he groaned against her lips.

  She traced a finger up the hard ridge of him, before allowing her fingers to undo the placket of his trousers and slip inside to touch the satiny skin. Guy broke the kiss on a deep moan. His breathing was heavy and she loved how his eyes fluttered open and closed with each stroke of her hand.

  She applied more pressure as she began to work him up and down. Their eyes locked and she felt her body respond to the pleasure she spied swimming there. Soon he could not stop his hips from lifting, but his eyes never left hers.

  Abigail had forgotten the heady feeling of power over a strong man. He was at her mercy, her decision to continue or not, whether she let him fulfill his desires. Soon his large hand covered hers and they worked him together. She could feel her own need growing and as if he understood what she needed, his other hand buried under her skirts and through the slit in her specially made trouser skirt.