Earl of Scandal (London Lords) (3 page)

“Of course not, it’s only that—”

“Indeed, sir,” she continued. “Your behavior is unspeakably arrogant. No matter who I am, you owe me an apology.”

Christian felt his face grow tight with exasperation. He wasn’t used to a female using that tone of voice with him, especially a little chit like this.

She had drawn near enough that he could finally make out his antagonist. A mass of unruly curls framed her delicate oval face, and silver spectacles glinted above an up-tilted freckle-sprinkled nose. She looked no more than sixteen.

“What are you doing out on this road alone?” he demanded.

“I’m going home,” she answered, still in that insufferable tone. “If you hadn’t nearly run me down, I’d be there by now.”

“You shouldn’t be out alone this late. Think of your reputation.”

“My reputation? Fiddlesticks! Everyone around here knows me. If people want to gossip, why should I care?”

“There may be brigands who travel these roads. You could have met one of them instead of a gentleman like me.

“Gentleman?” Her voice was scathing. “I didn’t know ‘gentlemen’ nearly ran people off the road.”

“I didn’t nearly run you off the road! I simply didn’t see your vehicle until it was too late. I swerved to miss you and ran my own rig into the ditch!”

“Hmmph!” she sniffed. “You were clearly traveling too fast. And not paying attention either. Otherwise you would have seen me.”

He wanted to throttle her! It was unthinkable she persisted in the delusion he was in the wrong!

“One of my horses is lame,” he said, trying to impress upon her the extent of his injuries. “And I think the axle on my curricle is broken.”

“I’m sorry,” she answered. “Truly I am. But I refuse to take responsibility for that which is clearly not my fault. Besides I must get home. Elizabeth will worry.” She turned and began to walk away.

Christian watched her in disbelief. Then he started after her. “You can’t mean to leave me here. I’ve no way to get to the next posting station, and it’s damn... dashed cold out.”

“What do you suggest?”

“The least you can do is give me a ride.”

He heard her sigh across the twenty feet that separated them. “I suppose you’re right. In the interests of Christian charity, I have no choice.”

He followed her to her vehicle, which turned out to be an open farm wagon. When he put his hand on her arm to lift her up, she pulled away.

“Really, sir! You mentioned my reputation.”

Christian gritted his teeth. What an utterly provoking wench!

He forced his voice to a soothing tone. “I only meant to assist you.”

“No need.” She sprang nimbly into the seat. He followed and attempted to take the reins. She pulled them out of his hands. “You’re certainly not driving. I saw what you did to your own carriage.”

“I’m a crackwhip,” he protested. “I’ve won dozens of races!”

“Hmmph!” was all she said as she coaxed the docile cob into a trot.

Christian sat stiffly on the hard seat, struggling to regain his temper. It was not like him to get so provoked, especially with a woman. He had to admit there was some merit to her scolding words, although she didn’t have to be so shrill about it. In truth, he had been traveling too fast. He was probably lucky to have escaped with no more than a lamed mare and banged up carriage.

The thought softened his mood. That and the sight of her pert profile when he glanced her way. She was rather cunning baggage.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Merissa Cassell.”

“I’m Christian Faraday.” He almost added, “earl of Bedlington,” then decided against it. If he truly meant to change his life, he didn’t need the burden of his title complicating things.

They rode in silence for a time. When they reached the milepost, Merissa turned the carriage off the road onto a narrow lane.

“I say, I thought the posting station was that way.”

“It is. But my home is this direction.”

Christian felt a further lightening of his mood. The chit wasn’t entirely immune to his charm. She obviously couldn’t wait to introduce him to her family. Some things didn’t change. Even in the wilds of the midlands, women found him irresistible.

“If you conveyed me to the posting station that would be more than adequate,” he said, “there’s no need to go out of your way on my account.”

“My sister will worry if I am any later. Besides, we can’t leave your team out in the cold. I’ll have Bob go after them as soon as we arrive.”

Christian felt properly set down. He had assumed she meant to gloatingly present him to her family. Instead, she had been thinking of the welfare of his horses. This woman was certainly different from the adoring London misses he was used to.

~ ~ ~

Get control of yourself, Merissa! He’s merely a man—a wretched nobleman like the ones who ruined Charles!

Merissa gripped the reins tightly in her gloved hands and tried to keep her gaze straight ahead. She would not stare at the tall, immaculately-dressed gentleman beside her, nor would she let his disturbing presence affect her driving. Merissa Cassell was not a titter-pated fool to lose her head over a handsome face and elegant manners.

Besides, his virtues only damned him more in her eyes. That he was clearly wealthy and city-bred only meant that he was undoubtedly also arrogant. Hadn’t he already proven that? He blamed her for his own error in judgment and refused to admit his carelessness. Why, he had shouted at her and called her names before even making an effort to ascertain the circumstances of the accident!

Stubbornly, she nursed her grievances against him. It helped keep her mind off the shock of seeing him up close when he tried to assist her into the wagon. She couldn’t forget the classical perfection of his features, nor the aura of physical power he exuded. Try as she might, there seemed no way to quell the odd bubble of excitement that seemed lodged in her chest.

At least she had been able to keep her discomposure to herself: For once, her sharp tongue had aided her. If she could convince him that she despised his company, maybe she could persuade her own treacherous self of the fact!

He cleared his throat and spoke conversationally. “You mention your sister. Is there no one else at home who will worry if you are late?”

“Of course. Both Bob and Papa would fret if I didn’t arrive by dinnertime. But tonight, I’m only late by half an hour, so Elizabeth alone will note it. Bob will be busy with chores, and Papa will be in his study.”

“Is Bob your brother?”

“You ask a great many questions, Mr. Faraday. For a man who saw fit to lecture me on my behavior, your own sense of propriety seems sorely lacking.”

Merissa smiled at her own tart words. That ought to set his back up a bit.

“My apologies, Miss Cassell.” He inclined his head in a bow. “I meant no disrespect.”

Oh, he was the perfect gentleman now. Irritated, she took the turn onto the drive more sharply than usual. They bounced down the rutted drive. As soon as they reached the house, she halted the team, tied the reins to the bar and hurried to get down from the wagon. She had no intention of having him try to help her once again!

Christian hurried after his hostess, frowning in consternation. Where the devil was she going in such a hurry?

By the time he caught up with her, she was talking to a stocky, roughly dressed man carrying a lantern. “.... about a mile down the main road. He said one of them had pulled up lame.”

The man lifted the lantern to shine it on Christian’s face. “Sir, do you think your horses are sound enough to be led this far?”

“I believe so, but if Jezebel balks, leave her there. There should be a carriage robe you can throw over her. I’ll go back for her myself.”

“You, sir?”

Unlike Merissa, this man obviously recognized him as someone to be reckoned with, Christian thought with satisfaction. “She’s a valuable animal, but I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“Never you fear, I’ll see to the horses,” the man said. “I’ll report back to you as soon as they’re safe. You’ll be staying for supper, won’t you, sir?”

“Well...”

‘Course you will. Elizabeth wouldn’t hear otherwise.” Bob went to unhitch the team.

“Jezebel?” Merissa asked. “What sort of name is that for a horse?”

“In. London it’s all the rage to name your cattle fanciful things,” Christian explained. “I suppose it represents an attempt at wit.”

“You’re from London?” Merissa asked as they started towards the house, walking more sedately this time.

“I spend most of the year there. When I’m not hunting or visiting friends.”

“And what do you do in London?”

“Do? Why, I entertain myself”

“I see,” she said in a decidedly frosty tone.

He felt a vague embarrassment that he hadn’t given a more serious answer. Then he quickly repressed the feeling. There was nothing immoral about indulging in the usual pastimes of a gentleman.

They entered the foyer and were immediately met by a gentle-faced young woman. “Good heavens, Merissa! What’s happened? Why are you so late?”

“This gentleman ran his carriage off the road, and I stopped to help him.” Miss Cassell’s gaze met Christian’s, as if daring him to give a different interpretation of events.

The woman, who he assumed was Elizabeth, approached him. “Dear me! Are you hurt, sir?”

“Not a bit. But my rig took a bad tumble. I think the axle’s broken and one of my horses may be injured.”

“How awful! Is someone tending to the poor animal?”

“Your... er... hired man went to take a look at the mares.”

She nodded. “Bob will know exactly what to do. We’d never manage without his help. He’s like one of the family. But you, sir, you must sit down. Even though you feel well, it’s possible you were injured.”

Elizabeth led him to an old-fashioned settle by the fire in the parlor and insisted he sit. “Now, you relax, sir, and I’ll bring you some tea. If nothing else, you must be quite chilled.”

Christian looked around the room after his hostess left. The furnishings were simply made and obviously old, but they had been cared for with a loving touch. The wood furniture was polished to a high gloss, the brass candelabrum gleamed like gold and the white lace curtains in the small glazed window were immaculate. Crocheted doilies and embroidered chair covers completed the image of cozy charm.

Christian could not imagine Miss Merissa scrubbing, polishing, and doing fine needlework. It must be the other sister who was responsible for the running of the household. “She’s rather the motherly type, isn’t she?” he remarked to Merissa, who’d remained in the room. “Is she older than you?”

She nodded. “By nearly five years. And you’re right about her fretful nature. If you don’t stay alert, she’ll have your feet up on a cushion and a mustard plaster on your chest.”

After warming her hands over the fire, Merissa began removing her black serge cape.

“I’d help you with your wrap,” he offered, “but I fear if I left this spot, your sister would scold me soundly.”

“There’s no need. I can manage.”

Christian found himself staring as his hostess turned back to the fire. This young woman spoke and acted like a stiff no-nonsense matron, yet her masses of dark, unruly curls, rosy lips, and willowy figure better fit a wood nymph. Even the silver spectacles, which should have made her look hopelessly dowdy, added to her mysterious allure.

She turned and frowned at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” She glanced down at her dress. “Are my skirts dirty?”

“No, no. I was merely thinking how fortunate I was to be rescued by such an attractive young woman.”

She gave him a cold glance. “How very gallant you are, sir. I suppose I should swoon with delight at your courtly manners.”

What was wrong with this woman? She seemed to interpret everything he said in the worst possible fashion. Christian opened his mouth to tell her what he thought of her shrewish tongue, when Elizabeth entered the room. “Here’s your tea, sir,” she said. “Now, drink that down, and I’m certain you’ll feel much better.”

He obeyed dutifully. Although, truth was, he hated tea. What he’d really like was a tot of brandy. But somehow the atmosphere wasn’t conducive to asking for one.

Elizabeth poured some tea for Merissa and herself then put down the pot. “I’m Elizabeth Cassell,” she extended her hand, looking startled when Christian kissed it. “You’ve met Merissa, of course,” she continued after a moment. “Our father, who is currently occupied in his study, is Albert Cassell, the rector of Whytcliff church.”

Christian’s gaze shot to Merissa. A clergyman’s daughter. Perhaps that accounted for her curious mixture of innocence and audacity.

“And your name is, sir?”

He cleared his throat, embarrassed by his lapse. “Christian Faraday.” Standing, he affected a deep bow. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

Elizabeth smiled politely, but Merissa appeared as stiff and unfriendly as ever. Christian made a mental note to forgo any more chivalrous gestures. They were obviously wasted on her.

He resumed his seat. “I’m traveling to visit a friend who lives not far from here. You may have heard of him. Devon Langley, the earl of Northrup?”

“No, I don’t believe our family is acquainted with him,” Elizabeth said.

“He resides at Darton Park near Derlingham. Perhaps you can visit me there in the next few weeks, and the earl and I can return your hospitality.”

“Hmmph,” Merissa said. “I rather doubt we would fit in with your friends.”

Elizabeth gave her sister a quelling look then said, “Really, sir, there’s no need to think of repaying us. We’re delighted to help out a traveler in distress, aren’t we, Merissa?”

Merissa made a choked sound, which made it clear that she considered having him as a guest a distinct sacrifice. Christian was torn between irritation and amusement at her prickly attitude.

He couldn’t keep his eyes from her when they went in to dinner. The whole while he ate his rabbit stew and brown bread, he surreptitiously assessed her, trying to imagine her done up as a beauty from the ton. Odd, but he didn’t really fancy her decked out like a London debutante. The way she looked now actually suited her much better. Except he fancied a more revealing dress.