The Red Hot Earl

by Burke, Darcy

  Turning, she greeted him with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve come.”

  “Not at all.” He seemed genuinely happy to see her, coming forward with a welcoming grin. “I’m surprised. And delighted.” He looked around the room. “It’s just you?”

  “Yes. I told Calder I was visiting Poppy. He’s being a pain in my—” She inhaled quickly and blew the breath back out. “Never mind. I plan to go to Poppy’s after this. Provided the weather isn’t too bad.” She looked toward the window again.

  “It doesn’t look good,” Ash said. “Perhaps we should be brief.”

  “That’s what my coachman suggested. I can try.” Only she didn’t want to. Now that she was here, she wanted to stay. No, if she were honest, she’d hoped it would snow so that she would have to stay. They had much to discuss—the St. Stephen’s Day party first and foremost. Also his reputation and whether he was a brutal, merciless pugilist. She brought up none of those things. Instead, she asked, “Is your mother here?”

  “Yes. I already asked Cornelius to fetch her.”

  “Wonderful.” Bianca was looking forward to seeing her. But first, she supposed she ought to broach what had happened the day before at Thornhill. “I wanted to talk to you about yesterday.”

  He stiffened, and the air between them shifted as if a wall had sprung up. “There’s nothing to discuss. I apologize for leaving without bidding you farewell.”

  She waved her hand. “That’s the least of my concerns. Actually, I have no concern about that at all.” That wasn’t precisely true. She’d felt disappointed upon learning he’d gone. “I wanted you to know that I found the behavior of Thornaby and the others reprehensible. It was my privilege to speak up for you.”

  “Thank you.” His voice was soft but his features hard. He gazed at the window instead of at her.

  Bianca moved toward him, eager to unwrap the secrets enveloping him. “Has it always been like that with them?”

  “Yes, not that I’ve seen them in a very long time.” He shook his head and finally turned his attention to her. “Anyway, it hardly signifies. I don’t plan on spending time with them in the future.”

  “Me neither,” she said with great satisfaction and a supportive smile. “May I ask why they call you Ruddy?”

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t to receive an answer because his mother arrived. Mrs. Rutledge entered with a swish of lavender skirts and a broad smile. “Lady Bianca!”

  She came to Bianca, and they embraced warmly. “How lovely to see you, Mrs. Rutledge. I see becoming the mother to an earl agrees with you.”

  She laughed. “Being Ashton’s mother has always agreed with me.” She looked at him with pride and love, and Bianca felt a twinge of regret. She had no parents left to look at her like that, and her brother certainly wasn’t going to bestow that sort of care or affection on her.

  “Come, let us sit,” Mrs. Rutledge said, gesturing toward the seating area nestled close to the fire. She looked outside and shuddered. “What an awful day to be out.”

  “It wasn’t snowing when I left,” Bianca said, lowering herself to the dark green settee. “I was on my way to my sister’s, but I daresay I may be stranded here.”

  Mrs. Rutledge took an adjacent chair. “Oh, I think you might be. That snow is starting to pile up.”

  Ash sat down next to Bianca. Well, not next to her—a good foot separated them.

  “I do love snow,” Bianca said on a sigh. “I may have to go out and traipse through it if it’s thick enough.”

  “Take Ashton with you. He always adored the snow. Did you miss it in London, dear?”

  “It snowed in London,” he said. “Perhaps not as much, but enough to satisfy my desire.”

  Something about those three words sent another lick of heat up Bianca’s spine.

  The butler, Cornelius, arrived with a tray. He set out a plate of cake and biscuits along with a pot of tea and three cups. Mrs. Rutledge said she would pour, recalling exactly how Bianca preferred her tea. The same as Ash—just a splash of cream and a dash of sugar.

  When the butler retreated, Ash’s mother asked, “What prompted you to stop at Buck Manor today?”

  Ash responded before Bianca could. “She came to talk about the St. Stephen’s Day party.”

  Bianca regarded him closely. He’d been careful to answer and had provided a reason she hadn’t even brought up. Did he not want his mother to know about yesterday? More secrets. Which only made her more determined to unravel them. To unravel him.

  In fact, she had come to talk about the party, so in that sense, she and Ash were of a mind. “Yes, I was hoping you and Ash might have some thoughts about the party. Did Ash tell you that my brother is refusing to host it?”

  Mrs. Rutledge nodded somberly before sipping her tea. “He did, and I’m sorry to hear it. Is there no persuading him?”

  “I’m afraid he’s proving quite intractable.” Bianca picked up her cup with a grimace. “I’m resolved to find an alternate solution. Not having the party is simply not an option. I will not let the people of Hartwell and Hartwood down.”

  “You’ve such a kind and generous heart,” Mrs. Rutledge said. “But then I’ve always known that.” She looked to her son. “Did you know that Lady Bianca has worked tirelessly at Hartwell House to ensure the residents have proper clothing, food, and opportunity? She even teaches the children to read.”

  “When I can,” Bianca said, feeling a trifle embarrassed for perhaps the first time ever. She busied herself with eating a biscuit.

  “That does not surprise me,” Ash said with soft appreciation. “We always planned to rescue everyone there and make sure they had jobs and homes and families.”

  Her eyes met his, and the heat she’d felt along her spine spread through her. “We did indeed.” After a moment, she pulled her gaze from his and looked to his mother. “That’s why it’s so important to me to ensure there is a St. Stephen’s Day celebration. If nothing else, there must be a celebration for the women and children at Hartwell House. Christmas should be a joyous time, with plenty for everyone.”

  “I wonder…” Mrs. Rutledge tipped her head to the side and looked into the fire. “I know Shield’s End isn’t terribly large, but much of the festivities has always happened outside, weather permitting. We could use the house as the kitchen and repository for all the food and supplies.”

  Bianca clasped her hands together. Using Ash’s childhood home was an excellent solution. “What a wonderful idea!”

  “See, there’s a reason we didn’t sell it,” Ash said, smiling.

  His mother chuckled. “I wanted to, but you said we should wait. It’s a credit to your forethought. Though how you could have predicted this, I’m not sure.”

  “I didn’t. I was just reluctant to let it go.” His cheeks turned a faint pink as he sipped his tea.

  Bianca understood the sentiment. There was something very special about tradition and roots and the things—both tangible and not—that made one’s life special and beloved. “Just as I refuse to let the St. Stephen’s Day party die.”

  “Precisely,” Mrs. Rutledge said. “So we’ll host it at Shield’s End.” She rubbed her hands together, grinning. “I can’t wait to get started. There’s so much to do in the next month!”

  The woman’s enthusiasm was infectious, not that Bianca needed any motivation to be excited about this plan. “I will write to all the people who typically support the party with food and drink.” She thought of Thornaby and his friends. Asking them was out of the question. And Calder had been plain: he would do nothing. “Now that I think of it, I’m not sure whom to ask.” She looked toward Ash, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  “All the food and drink?” his mother asked with grave surprise. “That’s an enormous undertaking. There are plenty of people in the area who can—and should—help.”

  Ash stood abruptly and went to the window. “I don’t think you’ll be goin
g anywhere, Bee. The snow is accumulating, and your carriage will be trapped before it leaves my drive.”

  Pity. Bianca’s insides somersaulted. “I have my maid and was prepared to stay with Poppy, so it’s no inconvenience to stay here. I hope it’s not an imposition.”

  He turned and met her gaze. “Not at all. I’ll have Cornelius prepare you a room. Dinner is at seven. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve some correspondence to finish.” He bowed to them and left.

  Bianca realized he’d done everything possible to avoid discussing the prospect of asking others to help with the party. It was evident he didn’t want his mother to know about the enmity between him and the other gentlemen in the area.

  Gentlemen? They weren’t gentlemen, they were cads.

  “As to whom you should ask for help,” Mrs. Rutledge said after nibbling a cake. “I recall Viscount Thornaby always supported the event, as did Keldon. I’m sure there are others. Regardless of what Ashton says, it’s not right that he shoulder the entire burden.”

  Bianca agreed, but she also respected his desire not to ask for help. His pride was important. Furthermore, she wasn’t sure those bullies would provide assistance if Ash was at the center of it. Would they, however, if she asked?

  It didn’t matter. She didn’t want to ask them. She’d go back to Calder and plead with him to at least provide food and ale. He couldn’t say no.

  He could, and he very likely would. She frowned into her teacup before taking a sip of the now tepid liquid.

  “I’d be happy to help with the correspondence,” Mrs. Rutledge offered.

  “I’ll start with my sister,” Bianca said quickly. In the past, the occupants and some of the household staff of Hartwood and Darlington Abbey did the bulk of the work. Other estates in the area, such as Buck Manor and Thornhill, would also help. They’d just have to make do without Thornaby and his friends. She gave Ash’s mother a bright smile. “You focus on preparing Shield’s End”

  Mrs. Rutledge nodded. “I’m sure we can find enough people willing to help. I’m so sorry to hear your brother isn’t willing to host the party. I own I’m surprised given how important this event has always been to your family.”

  “No one was more surprised than me.” Bianca wondered if she’d ever learn what was going on in her brother’s head. She feared she never would. She also feared he was lost to them, that the Calder they’d known and loved was gone forever. If she only knew why, perhaps there was a way they could bring him back.

  Cornelius entered the drawing room and looked to Bianca. “If you’re ready, my lady, I’d be happy to show you to your room.”

  Bianca stood. “Thank you, yes.”

  Mrs. Rutledge also got to her feet. She gave Bianca another quick hug. Then she held her hands as she spoke. “I’m so pleased you’ve come. I daresay it’s not altogether proper, but I am here to act as chaperone.” She waggled her brows. “Do I need to act as chaperone? I don’t know that my son is looking for a countess yet, but I can think of no one better.”

  Oh dear. Bianca wasn’t remotely interested in marriage. Not to Ash. Not to anyone.

  And yet, the thought of being Ash’s countess provoked a captivating thrill…

  Bianca squeezed Mrs. Rutledge’s hands before letting them go. “Ash and I are old friends. We don’t need a chaperone except that propriety demands one.” Bianca rolled her eyes. “Not that it matters out here.” This was yet another reason she had no interest in a London Season. Society and its ridiculous rules. She would feel so constrained, so trapped.

  “Hopefully, your sister won’t be worried when you don’t arrive,” Mrs. Rutledge said.

  “She’ll realize the weather is to blame. With luck, the snow will stop soon or overnight, and I’ll be able to travel tomorrow.”

  Or not. Bianca could think of nothing better than spending a day in the snow with Ash. She’d pelt him with snowballs, and they could take a ride so they could race, and she would beat him again.

  Only maybe she’d let him win this time. Except she suspected he let her win last time. Her pulse quickened at the prospect. Either way, it would be a wonderful way to spend the day.

  Goodness, maybe they needed a chaperone after all.

  Chapter 6

  Ash managed to ensure the conversation at dinner had veered quite clear of the St. Stephen’s Day party. Instead, they focused on stories of their youth. He credited Bianca with supporting his intent to avoid discussing the party—specifically asking people to help. She understood him like no one ever had.

  It was, in a word, enthralling.

  The snow had continued into the evening, finally tapering off while they’d dined. Now it was nearly midnight, and the house was dark and quiet. He crept downstairs with the plan of stealing outside to see if the snow had started again or if the sky had cleared.

  Carrying a lantern, he walked through the hall toward the back of the house to the terrace. A flash of blue from the library drew him to a stop. A candelabrum on a table inside illuminated Bianca. She stood near the flickering light, her head bent as she cradled a book in her hand.

  Ash simply stood there and watched her a moment. Her dark hair hung in a loose plait over her shoulder, the end curling against the swell of her breast. Outlined beneath the Egyptian blue of her dressing gown, her body beckoned him—the elegant slope of her shoulder, the gentle indentation of her waist, the alluring curve of her hip. Good God, when had he become so drawn to her?

  Her gaze lifted from the book and turned toward him, perhaps sensing his presence. Smiling, she snapped the book closed. “Ash.”

  He walked into the library as if he were pulled by a magnet. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”

  “What were you expecting to find?”

  “Nothing, really. I was on my way outside to see if the snow had started again or if it was truly finished.”

  She quickly set the book on a table and moved to stand before him, her gaze eager. “I’ll come with you.”

  He offered her his arm, and as her warm hand curled around him, he was painfully aware that they were both barely dressed—she in a dressing gown and he in a banyan over his shirt and a pair of breeches. This was wholly improper, and he didn’t give a damn.

  This was Bee. They’d known each other forever, it seemed. Friends since childhood. Yet, this was something more. He wondered if she felt it too.

  He guided her out to the terrace where the snow was maybe three inches deep. They barely stepped outside, staying clear of the snow.

  She looked up into the ink-dark sky. “It is snowing.”

  Surveying the white terrace, she lifted the hem of her gown and waded into the snow. “Ooh, it’s cold and wet.” She lifted a careless shoulder before tipping her head back.

  Light, soft flakes landed on her upturned face. He held up the lantern to see the graceful planes of her cheekbones, the bright, dazzling sparkle of her blue eyes. He’d never seen anything more beautiful. He moved toward her and wiped a snowflake from her cheek.

  She brought her head down to look at him, her lips parted in joy. He brought his finger to his mouth and licked the snowflake from the pad.

  Her gaze fixed on his mouth, and the desire that had been swirling inside him all day swelled to a crescendo, hardening his cock and making his breath come short.

  “We always tried to catch the snowflakes.” She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, then stuck out her tongue.

  What was beautiful was now also incredibly erotic. Ash told himself to go inside, to tell her she should return to her chamber. But he did neither. He stared at her mouth and thought of her tongue doing unspeakable things. He thought of kissing her beneath the snowy sky.

  He didn’t do that either.

  She caught a snowflake and drew her tongue back between her lips. Her eyes opened, and it was as if he could see straight into her soul—a bright beacon that was now emblazoned in his memory. He wondered if she could have been a light in the darkness at Oxford. He would ne
ver know.

  Soft, bliss-filled laughter slipped from her mouth. “Too bad it’s dark, or I would bombard you with snowballs.”

  “Not if I bombarded you first.”

  She gave him a saucy stare. “Is that a challenge?”

  “It might be, but it will require boots and appropriate outerwear—and daylight.”

  She exhaled with regret. “And a hot bath when we’re finished.”

  Hell, now he was thinking of her nude in a bath, steam rising from the water. He nearly groaned with want. Again he wondered how his childhood friend had suddenly become the object of his greatest desire.

  Ash coughed and worked to suppress the shudder that threatened to crane his neck and roll his shoulders. “If you’re suggesting we engage in a snowball fight and then take a hot bath, I’ll have to remind you that propriety would frown upon it.”

  “I didn’t mean together.” A faint pink stained her cheeks, but he couldn’t know if it was because of their flirtation or the cold temperature. “But remember that propriety is the least of my concerns.” She twirled about in the snow, her arms out wide. Flakes clung to her dark hair, making her look like a winter princess.

  “Were you really on your way to your sister’s?” he asked.

  She stopped and dropped her arms to her sides. “Yes, but I knew it was possible I might be stranded here because of the weather.”

  “And you came here just to talk with me about…yesterday.” He didn’t really want to bring it up again, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He wanted to know why she was really here.

  He wanted to know if there was something blossoming between them. No, he knew there was for him. He needed to know if the sensation was present for her too.

  “Not just for that, no.” Her words prompted his pulse to quicken. “As I said, Calder was being insufferable, so I was anxious to be anywhere but Hartwood. I also wanted to speak with you about St. Stephen’s Day—I’m so glad we resolved that.”

  Mostly. He still didn’t want to involve Thornaby or anyone else.