An Earl to Enchant (2 page)

Saint had certainly done well for him as far as beauty and allure were concerned. From the heavy rise Morgan felt between his legs, there was no doubt he was physically attracted to her. That alone told him she would be worth every pound he was paying her.

“What delayed you?” he asked, simply to make conversation. “It must have been the weather—or perhaps your driver was a laggard.”

Her dark, fan-shaped brows rose slightly as if to question him. “We didn’t let anything delay us. I came straight here,” she countered.

Morgan looked closer at the young woman. He couldn’t see her dress, but the fabric and trim of her cape were of fine, expensive materials that couldn’t be bought in ordinary shops in London. She had definitely piqued his interest.

“I suppose it rained all the way from London. But no worry, you are here now. I have your room ready. Let me help you with your cape, and then I’ll go tell your driver how to get to the carriage house. Your maid, of course, will be given a room as well.”

As he reached for her, she stepped away from him. Her eyes challenged him with a high-handedness he hadn’t expected from a woman he was paying.

“Excuse me, sir. You didn’t know I was coming. How could you have a room prepared for me?”

Morgan paused, confused for a moment, but quickly remembered that Saint had told him Miss Goodbody was excellent at role playing. She could be any type of woman he wanted. Morgan wasn’t really into masquerades and mystique, even though it was the current rage in London Society. He was much too conventional to find pleasure in hiding behind a mask or pretending to be someone he was not. But if it made Miss Goodbody happy, he supposed he could play along with her for a little while, even though his head was throbbing, and playing games at this hour of the night was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Madame, surely you know that I always have a room ready in case an unexpected guest arrives at my house in the middle of the night.”

Her darkly fringed gaze searched his face, and her uneasiness became more noticeable as she threw another furtive glance toward the front door. For a moment Morgan thought she was going to bolt out of it.

“This is your house? Sir, I think I should leave immediately. Because of the fog and rain, I believe my driver has brought me to the wrong door.”

Another snag of concern caught in Morgan’s head, but he immediately dismissed it. Did she think to arouse him by acting the part of a skittish, innocent waif who had lost her way and ended up at his mercy? If so, she should have been on time. It was far too damned late in the evening for her antics of the damsel in distress to work for him.

“Don’t be coy,” he said, wanting to end her ruse and get on with the matter for which he’d hired her. “I’m afraid your acting abilities, while really quite good, are wasted on me. Now allow me to take your cloak so we can retire.”

Her eyes widened in alarm. She took another step back, and her foot landed against the closed door. Morgan gave into the worrisome feeling that something wasn’t quite right, even though there was something infinitely compelling and mysterious about her.

Keeping her gaze riveted on him, she looked suspiciously at him and seemed to struggle for words. “I fear you have mistaken me for someone else.”

“Don’t be silly. I knew you were coming. I had Mr. Saint arrange your visit for me, though it is true I was expecting you earlier in the afternoon.”

She looked at him from eyes sparkling hot from outrage and surprise. “How dare you, sir! I don’t know what you are talking about. I have never heard of anyone by the name of Saint.”

More doubt about her stirred around Morgan. If she was acting, she was damn good. Could what he was thinking be possible? No, he didn’t want to believe that.

He tensed and allowed the silence between them to lengthen. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer, but finally he calmly asked, “Are you Miss Francine Goodbody?”

Her chin lifted defiantly as if an inner confidence surfaced, fortifying her. “Sir, I am not.”

Morgan groaned as the realization that he would not be enjoying the pleasure of this soft, alluring woman in his bed tonight seeped through him.

But another thought suddenly struck him as well, and he said, “My cousins sent you here, didn’t they?”

“What?”

“They somehow found out about my arrangements, and this is their idea of a humorous trick. I suppose they waylaid Miss Goodbody and sent you in her place. No doubt they are having a laughing good time at my expense as we speak.”

The young woman bristled perceptibly. “I have no knowledge of Miss Goodbody, the cousins you speak of, or anyone else you might know.” She looked straight at him and very confidently said, “I am Miss Arianna Sweet.”

He eyed her skeptically at first, but the longer he stared at her the more he wondered what her role in this debacle really was. Could she possibly be telling the truth? She certainly looked like she was. A stab of disappointment struck him, and it instantly turned to anger.

Morgan swore softly under his breath.

Her assertion that she was not the courtesan he expected sobered him more than he liked. A sardonic chuckle passed his lips, and he shook his head. This situation would be laughable if it wasn’t so annoyingly unbelievable. A beautiful, tempting woman finally arrives at his door, but now quite obviously not the one he was expecting. What were the chances of that ever happening?

Spending his summer at Valleydale was not turning out to be one of his better ideas. Perhaps life in London wasn’t so bad after all.

Morgan fought to quell his frustration over the realization that this delectable young lady was not Miss Goodbody, and she would not be spending the night beneath him.

He stared at her, unable to look away from the intensity of her gaze. She was so indignant at his accusations that he felt forced to believe her.

“Obviously, I was anticipating someone else, Miss Sweet,” he said, unable to hide his frustration or his impatience. “So if you are not here by way of my cousins’ conniving or at Mr. Saint’s behest, by all means, tell me what is it that brings you to my door on this rainy, late evening? If it was directions you wanted, I could easily have spoken to your driver.”

His brusque tone didn’t seem to faze her as she took a commanding step toward him and said, “I came to speak to Lady Elder. I realize she is not receiving at this unbelievably late hour, but do you think she would mind if I waited until she’s available to see me?”

Morgan grunted another laugh. What madness was this woman up to?

“Lady Elder is not here,” he said, unable to keep the sarcasm he was feeling out of his voice.

Miss Sweet stared at him with guarded surprise. Morgan got the distinct impression she didn’t believe him.

“But she must be,” the young lady challenged him in a stiff voice. “This is Valleydale, is it not, or am I, indeed, at the wrong estate?”

“Yes, Miss Sweet, it is,” he said derisively. “You are here, but she is not.”

Her hand flew to her forehead in contemplation, and Morgan thought he saw her fingers tremble. He noticed vulnerability in her that he hadn’t seen before, and he was certain now she wasn’t acting.

Something troubled her, but what and why had she brought it to his door?

She looked up at him with imploring eyes, and in a soft voice said, “I came all this way to see Lady Elder. Tell me where she is at once, and I shall go there.”

The throbbing in Morgan’s temples increased. Just who the hell did this chit think she was?

Unable to keep a hint of accusation out of his voice, he stepped closer to her and said, “Excuse me, Miss Sweet, but are you issuing a demand to me?”

Morgan realized he’d spoken more sharply than he intended, but this encounter had gone beyond being a dreadful farce. It was more than comical or frustrating, it was damned maddening, and he was ready for it to end.

She seemed unruffled by his gruff behavior and looked straight into his eyes.

“No, of course not.” She took in a quick, deep breath and then slowly exhaled before adding, “All right, maybe it was a demand. But you don’t understand. It’s imperative that I speak to her as soon as possible.”

Miss Sweet was nothing if not direct; he would give her that.

Morgan shook his head and laughed softly under his breath. Of Lady Elder’s three grandsons, Morgan was the levelheaded one. He had always been rational, sensible, and clear-minded no matter the situation. He was a planner and never did anything without thinking through the consequences, and he never lost control. He was determined this intriguing young lady’s allure was not going to get the best of him.

He watched as she moistened her lips, giving them a little shine and color. Though she remained quiet, he could tell by her rigid stance and rapidly blinking eyes that she struggled to keep her composure. She lightly shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and to renew some inner strength that was weakening. There was a determined edge to the set of her jaw, and sudden fear that he hadn’t seen before shimmered in the depths of her beautiful green eyes that gave him a moment’s pause.

But only a moment.

Another time, Morgan might have been more indulgent with this captivating lady standing before him and enjoyed the conversation, but not tonight. She had picked the wrong evening to arrive at his door with her odd request to see his grandmother. His head pounded from the drink, and his stomach had begun to roil.

“I can tell you that it won’t be possible to see her or speak to her, and I should know. I’m her grandson.”

Alarm flashed in her eyes. Her gaze swept down his body as she took in his attire.

“Oh, my lord, or is it Your Grace?” She immediately curtsied. “I apologize for mistaking you for one of Lady Elder’s staff. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I know that she has three grandsons, an Earl, a Marquis, and a Duke. Forgive me, but I don’t know which you are.”

Morgan glanced down at his clothing and silently cursed. Sometime during the long evening in his book room, he had not only discarded his neckcloth and collar but his waistcoat and coat as well. She had no way of knowing he was the master of the house. It was no wonder she thought him a servant, and a damned sloppy one at that, giving the state of his rumpled shirt that was more than half pulled from the band of his riding breeches.

He cleared his throat and said, “There is no need for an apology. I am the Earl of Morgandale and Lady Elder’s oldest grandson.”

“My lord, if your grandmother won’t be away for a long time, do you mind if I wait for her to return? I really must speak to—”

Morgan held up his hand to stop her from further discussion of his grandmother. For a moment, he thought he saw her body tremble.

Did she think him such a scoundrel that he wouldn’t offer her the hospitality of his house for the night before sending her on her way in the morning? That angered him. Damnation, he wasn’t an ogre, but his patience was already on a short tether before she had arrived. And it was damned frustrating that he was immensely attracted to her, since clearly he couldn’t do anything about that. Given the lateness of the hour and the foul weather, he really had no choice but to offer her shelter for the evening.

Still, he wasn’t in a mood to be kind along with having to be accommodating. “You will be waiting a long time to see her, Miss Sweet,” he said grimly. “My grandmother died over a year ago.”

A soft, anguished gasp fluttered past her lips. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “That can’t be.”

“I’m afraid it is,” he said, thinking it was rather odd that she seemed to be taking the news of his grandmother’s death so hard. Morgan watched the last shade of color drain from her beautiful face. Her green eyes blinked rapidly and then slowly.

“Miss Sweet?”

But she didn’t respond.

Her head tilted back as her eyes fluttered closed, and despite a long night of drinking, he leaped forward just in time and somehow managed to catch her as her body collapsed and she fainted into his arms.

Two

My Dearest Lucas,

I thought this quote from Lord Chesterfield very wise. Take heed to this lesson. “A man of sense soon discovers, because he carefully observes, where, and how long, he is welcome; and takes care to leave the company, at least as soon as he is wished out of it. Fools never perceive where they are either ill-timed or ill placed.”

Your loving Grandmother,

Lady Elder

Arianna’s lashes fluttered, and her first conscious thought was that she was a little girl again being carried in her father’s strong arms and held protectively against his powerful chest. She snuggled deeper into the protective embrace, slipping her hand around a firm neck and letting the languid warmth settle over her. She couldn’t remember why she had felt fearful for so long, but now she felt safe. Safe, for the first time in months. She could sleep peacefully. She breathed in deeply and relaxed into the secure hold.

However, Arianna’s disoriented mind would not let her have the tranquility and comfort her body craved. Niggling doubts disturbed her rest. Something wasn’t right. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, so why was she being carried? Her eyes opened to swirling darkness as her mind tried to sort out what was happening. She felt lethargic, dizzy. Her eyes closed again, and for a few seconds she snuggled once more into the depths of the powerful arms that carried her. She didn’t want anything to spoil the feeling of being safe.

But an inner strength that had served Arianna so well in the past rose up inside her. She blinked several times, willing the vertigo to pass, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, forcing her mind to wake up and think. She saw a masculine neck and commanding jawline. She was definitely cradled in a man’s strong arms, but it couldn’t be her father.

In whose arms was she?

The earl!

Startled, Arianna kicked and pushed against his chest, trying to dislodge herself from him. Her weak arms and legs protested her hasty movements. She felt as if they were disjointed from her body. Fatigue consumed her; still she fought. Her feeble effort caused the earl’s strong arms to tighten around her again.

“Be still and stop struggling,” he grumbled. “I don’t want to drop you.”

“What you are doing?” she commanded.

“I thought it was quite clear that I am carrying you,” he said in an annoyed tone.

“Of course that is clear,” she answered tersely. “Why are you carrying me?”

“You fainted.”

Arianna stiffened in his arms. “I certainly did not. I have never fainted in my life.”

“Until now,” he mumbled caustically under his breath and kept walking through the darkness.

She opened her mouth to deny his claim but quickly saw the folly in that and refrained from going that route again.

Bapre
! She hadn’t
really
fainted, had she? How could she have let that happen?

Arianna was mortified that the earl was carrying her, holding her so closely she felt her hip pressed tightly against his firm, lower stomach. The intimacy of the contact sent a rush of heat to her cheeks and a slow roll of something wonderful cascading through her abdomen.

In response to her unusual reaction to the man, in her most authoritative voice she said, “My lord, I must insist that you put me down immediately.”

“Not yet, Miss Sweet, but I assure you, just as soon as I get you to the settee in the drawing room I will. You may be light as a feather under normal circumstances, but trust me, with your soggy cape and my pounding head, you are, indeed, quite heavy. I shall be happy to be rid of you.”

Shocked by his gruff complaint, she protested, “There is no reason for you to sound so grumpy.”

He heaved a deep, exasperated sigh, and she felt his chest move against her side.

“Oh, but there is, Miss Sweet, but I will refrain from telling you my reasons and keep them to myself.”

She pushed at his muscled chest again, though she already knew that trying to get out of his arms was a hopeless endeavor. The man was strong as iron.

“I don’t know why you are in such an agitated state,” she argued to mask just how uncomfortable she was cradled in his arms.

She felt him take another deep breath, as if to gain control of his temper before speaking.

He glanced down at her, but it was too dark to see anything other than the whites of his eyes. “Me, in a state? Just who do you think you are talking to, Miss Sweet?”

“You, of course. You have been disconcerted since shortly after I arrived and you discovered I am not the person you were expecting.”

“Your impertinence is unbelievable.”

“And so is your arrogance. It’s not like I asked you to pick me up and carry me.”

“You know, most young ladies would be thankful, if not indebted, that I had kept them from landing on the floor and knocking a goose egg on their head, but no, not you. There doesn’t seem to be an ounce of gratitude in you.”

Arianna studied over his words. He made a very good point. She didn’t know why she challenged him when she was in such an untenable position. It must be the remnants of the fever causing her to be so bold.

“Perhaps I have been a bit rash and maybe too forthright in the way I spoke to you.”

“Perhaps?” he questioned on a broken breath. “You won’t give an inch, will you?”

“I don’t mean to sound unappreciative, my lord.”

“Then you certainly fooled me.”

She scoffed at his mumbled comment. “I’m trying my best to make you understand that I don’t need to be carried; I can walk.”

“Yes, I know you can,” he said dryly. “I’ve seen you do it, and nothing would please me more at the moment than to let you. But I don’t trust your feet to hold you.”

“Nonsense. You are treating me like a child.”

“Did you stop to think that might be because you are acting like one? Now stop wiggling and be still for a few more steps, and I will gladly put you down.”

Arianna huffed. “All right, my lord, if you most know, the truth is that I have never been in a man’s arms before, and I find it quite disturbing and highly improper to be held so close to your body.”

He grunted a laugh. “I find it quite disturbing, too, Miss Sweet, but I’m sure for a far different reason than you find it so.”

She gasped. “You are a shameless scoundrel, my lord; now put me down. I would rather crawl on my hands and knees than be carried another step by you.”

As the last word left her lips, the earl unceremoniously plopped her onto the small sofa with a groan and then stood staring down at her.

“Happy now?” he asked sardonically.

Arianna gasped at his rudeness. “Immensely,” she answered, quite thankful he couldn’t see much of her face for the darkness of the room. Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment.

But not to be outdone, Arianna took a deep breath and started to rise.

Lord Morgandale pointed a finger at her and said, “If you get up, I will pick you up again and put you back on that settee.”

She gasped. “How dare you expect me to simply obey you without question!”

“I find it very easy.”

“Probably because you are an earl and no doubt used to everyone jumping like a grasshopper to your every wish, and you think that I am to meekly comply with your every command, as well.”

“Precisely. You are in my home by my permission, and as long as you are, you will abide by my wishes. Is that clear, Miss Sweet?”

“Perfectly,” she said tightly.

“Good. Isn’t it more pleasant between us now that you are beginning to understand exactly who is in charge around this house?”

“You are the most infuriating man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. And you are stubborn, too,” she added as an afterthought.

“How odd, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

“Unlike you, I have a reason. It’s because you bring out the worst of me.”

“Why is it not surprising to me that your ungrateful attitude is my fault? I fear someone misnamed you. Are you sure you are not Miss Sweet but instead Miss Tart?”

“Oh, you are an impossible man.” She could have added fascinating and invigorating but held her tongue on those attributes. “I don’t even know why I’m continuing to speak to you.”

“At this point, you have no choice. So tell me, is your clothing wet, or only the cape?”

“My clothing is dry.”

“All right,” he said and turned away from her and walked to a nearby table. “It is best you take that garment off immediately. I would just as soon you not take consumption right here in my house.”

“So would I,” she mumbled, suddenly feeling terribly weak and shaky once again.

The only thing Arianna could see in the dark room was the earl’s white shirt as he prepared to light a lamp. She must have awakened him from a deep sleep for him to be in such a rumpled state and disagreeable mood.

For some reason she couldn’t just dismiss the earl’s appalling attitude toward her. Her father had always teased her by saying that she always had to have the last word in any discussion, and he was right.

“You certainly are in a foul temper, my lord. I realize I interrupted your evening, quite possibly your late night nap, but you are acting as if I took your most prized possession from you, and you are in a temper about it.”

She was sure she heard the earl chuckle under his breath, but he said nothing.

Arianna stood to remove her cape and was surprised at how shaky her legs were. She quickly sat back down for fear of fainting again. Thankfully the earlier dizziness she had experienced was gone. She closed her eyes and took in a deep, steadying breath, silently hoping the debilitating fever she’d caught on the ship wasn’t returning.

She should have stopped at an inn and taken a few days to rest before trying to find Lady Elder. Why had she been so impatient to find the woman her father had told her about that her common sense failed her? Her impatience usually landed her in trouble, and this was no exception.

The wick caught fire but wouldn’t flame, adding only a faint yellow glow to the room. She could see just enough to know the earl was as imposing from the back as he was from the front. Straight, dark brown hair fell just past his nape. She saw muscles in his wide shoulders and back ripple beneath his collarless shirt as he fiddled with the lamp. His slim-legged trousers fit perfectly across lean hips, firm buttocks, and long, powerful looking legs.

Bapre!

What was she thinking? She shouldn’t be looking at the earl’s backside or anything else about him. What was wrong with her? Obviously the fever
was
back. What else could have her thinking such improper things, especially about a man she had just met?

The earl seemed to be having trouble making the light brighter. A silent half laugh passed her lips at his seeming ineptness. He was, indeed, a man of privilege if he didn’t even know how to turn up the flame on a wick. The earl obviously was not used to doing anything for himself—other than give orders. He was exceptional at that.

As she watched him, she wondered where all his servants were. She had been away from England for a long time, but surely things had not changed so much that an earl answered his own door, and inappropriately dressed at that, even if it was the middle of the night.

Lord Morgandale mumbled something that Arianna didn’t quite understand, but it sounded very much like he was damning the lamp. She smiled. She didn’t know why, but his struggles with the light amused her greatly, and tired and lethargic as she was, it felt good to have a reason to smile. There had been far too few of them recently.

Knowing she was at risk of his ire but unable to stop herself, she asked, “Do you need help with the lamp, my lord? I’ll be happy to show you—”

“No, Miss Sweet,” he said gruffly, cutting off her sentence as, suddenly, greater light filled the room. “I do not need your help with anything. If you must know, one of the servants trimmed the wick too blasted short.”