Good Earls Don't Lie (20 page)

“You should have supper with my grandmother and me tonight,” she said suddenly. Though she had not noticed anything out of the ordinary with his table manners, she wanted to ensure that he knew about the proper silver to use and what to expect at supper parties regarding conversation.

“I should be glad to dine with you,
a chara
.” He glanced over at her feet and added, “Aren’t your legs getting cold? Would you like me to warm them?”

“They are cold, yes. I should probably go back to the house.” She eased herself out of the water, immediately folding her gown over her bare legs. From the way Lord Ashton was studying her, she felt her cheeks flush. “I hope my advice regarding London was helpful to you.”

He inclined his head. “If I can remember all of it, I’m certain it will be.” Then he stood and reached down to help her stand. She gripped his hands and managed to rise. Beneath her gown, her legs trembled from the cold. She wiped her feet against the grass, trying to dry them.

“Before you go, I’ve another idea,” Lord Ashton said. “Put your feet atop mine.”

She frowned, wondering if he intended to walk with her. “No, thank you. We’re both barefoot and it would not be right.”

“Then how will I know if I was taught properly how to dance?” He kept her hands gripped in his.

She eyed him with wariness. “I cannot dance, and you know this.”

In response, Iain lifted her off the ground. He rested his grip beneath her hips so that she looked down on him. “Aye, you can.”

She was startled by the sudden motion and blurted out, “This is not how we dance in London, Lord Ashton.”

“It isn’t?” He opened his mouth as if stunned, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “You can’t be telling me the truth. After all those years of suffering through dance lessons with Michael?”

His teasing lightened her mood, and she nodded. “I’m afraid so. Whoever taught you to dance in Ireland was completely wrong.” She offered a sympathetic smile. “We are much more formal here.”

“My apologies, Lady Rose.” Iain lowered her to stand, and as she slid down his hardened body, the closeness unnerved her. He was strong, his body made up of rigid planes and angles. He slid his arm around her waist and took her other hand in his. “I think you should be teaching me how to dance properly.”

His palm was warm against hers, and he stood watching her. Those green eyes were the devil’s lure, beckoning her toward temptation. “That
was
our agreement, wasn’t it? You were going to prepare me for the dangers of London society.”

“I am not ready to dance yet.” She didn’t feel at all ready to attempt it, even resting her feet upon his. And if she was honest, that was what made her uneasy. She didn’t want the intimacy of his skin beneath hers.

“Try.” He leaned closer, and in his eyes, she saw friendliness and encouragement. “Or are you afraid I’ll step upon your toes?”

“I would be stepping upon yours. And I do not think you wish to have them crushed. You would be hobbling for weeks.” She gave an apologetic smile. “It would be best if we stop for now.”

“Not yet.”

Rose could feel the warmth of his breath against her face, and his hand moved to her waist, lightly resting there. She couldn’t help but enjoy the heat of his touch. And instead of needing to pull away, she allowed him to continue.

“Put your feet upon mine.”

She hesitated, but obeyed. Her feet were still cold from the water, and the moment she stepped upon his, she let out a half shriek. “Your feet are freezing!”

“And now you know my true reason for wanting to dance. You can warm my feet.”

“It’s like standing upon ice.” She wanted to step off, but he began moving, forcing her to dance with him.

As he took her in a slow waltz, she felt reckless in his arms. It did feel almost like dancing, and she couldn’t hold back her smile. “My grandmother would be appalled if she could see me right now.”

“I would think she’d be glad to see you dance.”

“I’m not dancing. Not truly.” But for a moment, it was good to imagine it. Perhaps in a few more months it might happen.

“This is another way for you to move your legs,” he said. “They will get stronger if you dance with me.”

She hadn’t truly considered that, but he was right. And it was more enjoyable than she’d thought it would be.

“Next time, you should wear shoes,” she advised. “I will do the same.”

He inclined his head and spun her around again. All around her, the sunlight warmed her skin, and she caught the faint fragrance of flowers. “Do you suppose your parents danced in this garden?”

“I don’t know. But perhaps.”

He slowed his pace, watching her closely. “Am I dancing like a proper English gentleman?”

“You are, yes. There’s nothing to fear on that account.”

Again, he took her across the garden, spinning her in the waltz. She was conscious of his hands on her waist and the way he was watching her.

“Are you growing tired?” he asked.

She was slightly out of breath, but it had felt so good to feel normal for a few moments, she didn’t care. “A little.”

He relaxed his hold upon her waist. “If you’re wanting me to stop, say the word.”

She met his gaze and smiled. “I should want you to stop. But it has been so very long since I’ve danced. You found a weakness of mine.”

He kept moving her, though he held back on the pace. His left hand drew her slightly closer, until they were now in an embrace. Though he continued to dance with her, she was well aware of how close they were.

He said nothing, but the unspoken words slipped beneath her defenses. She knew that he was interested in her, and he made no secret of it. What she didn’t understand was why he had such an effect upon her.

“Lord Ashton, we should stop now.” Her words were the barest whisper, for she no longer trusted herself. She was entranced by his handsome face and the way he was watching her now. If she lifted her mouth even the slightest fraction, she would be kissing him again.

He drew his hand over the line of her jaw and tipped her chin up. “Here, in this place, you will call me Iain. And I intend to call you Rose.”

She was trembling in his arms, feeling so lost. When he slid his hands into her hair, holding her imprisoned, she tried to look away.

“What are you afraid of,
a chara
? I would never hurt you.”

No, she knew that. But when she was in Lord Ashton’s arms, she felt more alive, in a way she’d never before experienced. In hardly more than a fortnight, he’d taken apart her illusions, making her question the feelings she’d held for the viscount.

“Nothing,” she lied. The truth was, the earl had made her doubt Lord Burkham’s intentions, making her wonder if he’d ever cared for her at all. She had told herself that the six letters were a sign of interest and caring. But now, she wasn’t so certain.

“Don’t be looking at me like that, Lady Rose,” he warned. His eyes had grown hooded, and he moved his hands around her in a true embrace. The warmth of his arms enfolded her, making her feel safe.

“Like what?” Her breathing had shifted and was unsteady, her skin sensitive beneath the fabric of her gown. Though she was trying to behave as if nothing were wrong, her good sense was disappearing before her eyes. She was standing in a beautiful garden, locked away from the world in the arms of a handsome Irishman. If she had never met Thomas, undoubtedly this man would have caused her heart to flutter.

Or pound against her chest, as it was currently doing.

“Take a step back, Lady Rose,” he warned. “Or I’ll not be responsible for the consequences.” Rose lifted her eyes to his and there was no denying the desire in them. He was giving her the opportunity to raise boundaries between them, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She was lost in his gaze, feeling her own forbidden answer. In this place, there was no one to see. No one to tell her how wrong it was.

And when he leaned down to kiss her, she didn’t pull away. His mouth assaulted hers with tenderness, flooding her with sensation. Her bare feet rested upon the grass while she clung to him for balance. His breath held the hint of tea, and the kiss became an awakening. It drew out the wilder side of herself, making her yearn for more.

Beneath the onslaught of sensation, she had no choice but to return the kiss. His hands moved over her spine, drawing her so close, their hips touched again. The swell of his manhood rested against her stomach, and she grew fearful of the arousal he’d conjured. She could imagine Iain laying her down against the grass, removing the layers of clothing until they were flesh to flesh. The heat of sin burned through her with reckless intensity.

God help her, she was caught up in his spell, while he drew her ever closer to the forbidden edge of desire.
Tell him to stop,
her brain urged her. But her body silenced her mind, so drawn by his touch.

Iain moved his hand over her bottom, lifting one hip until her leg was raised. Caught up against him, she had to wrap her arms around his neck. Though she knew it was wrong, she didn’t push him back.

Her lips were swollen, deliciously bruised as his tongue entered her mouth. He stroked her, even as he moved his hardened length against her. She grew utterly wet beneath her petticoats, breathless at the pressure between her legs. Her breasts were tight against her chemise and corset, straining for more.

“Tell me to stop, Rose,” he murmured.

Her brain was disconnected from reality, and she struggled to find her sense of reason. “I-y-yes, you must.”

With his arm around her waist and hers around his neck, she felt her breath catch. He was staring at her like a man bent upon seduction. “Don’t go back to the viscount,” he said quietly.

Lord Ashton traced the edge of her cheek with his thumb. A thousand sensations spiraled through her, and she took a step backward.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” she told him. “It—it was wrong of me.” He was making her nervous with the way he was watching her.

“No, it wasn’t.”

Again, he took another step forward, and she drew away. Only to suddenly become aware of what she’d done. She froze in place, both terrified and stunned that she had taken a step backward. “Iain?”

His sudden smile was blinding, and he held her hands in his. “You’ve already taken the first steps,
a chara.
Without even realizing it.”

She had. For the first time in months, she’d managed to take two steps. Unbidden came the tears over her cheeks, while a shaky smile broke through. “I don’t even know how this happened.”

Lord Ashton shook his head. “I can’t say how it did. But I watched you take two steps away from me.”

Certainly, it was because he’d embarrassed her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Joy flooded through her.

“Can you take a step toward me?” he asked.

She sent him a sidelong glance. “I’m not sure I should. Especially with the way you’re looking at me now.”

A knowing grin slid over his face. “And how am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m a slice of cake.” She sent him a wry look, but he only appeared amused by her observation.

“Perhaps I was wanting another taste of you.” He reached out to her shoulders, and she laughed at him.

“Oh, no.” At that, she took a step away, suddenly realizing why he was teasing her. “Is this a ruse, meant to make me run away from you?” She faltered but took another step. Her body swayed out of balance, but with her bare feet upon the grass, it was easier to steady herself.

“Is it working, then?” Iain reached out to her, pretending that he wanted to snatch her back into an embrace.

“Yes.” Rose stopped walking and gave up trying to hold back her tears of happiness. She didn’t care if she was sobbing like a small child. These first few steps were nothing short of miraculous. Her cheeks were wet, but she was smiling so hard, they ached.

Iain closed the distance and brought her back into his arms, holding her tightly. She no longer cared, but dampened the front of his shirt with her tears. He rubbed her spine, his arm around her waist. “Don’t cry,
a ghrá
. Else, I’ll have to kiss your tears away.”

She wiped at her eyes, and a laugh broke free. “Then I suppose I’ll have to run.”

Chapter Eleven

“Lord Ashton, you have a visitor.” Fulton stood at the doorway to the dining room, where Iain was about to have supper with Lady Rose, her mother, and Lady Lily. They had not yet served the first course, and Iain stole a look at Rose to determine the proper answer.

Before she could answer, Fulton continued, “I realize that it is past the time for callers, but this visitor claims to be one of your missing servants.”

Iain’s mood darkened at the sudden news. He had a feeling he knew exactly who this “visitor” was. Immediately, he stood from the table. “Ladies, please forgive me, but I will return shortly.”

“Is anything the matter, Fulton?” Rose asked.

The butler shrugged. “That, I cannot say. All I know is that the man insisted on seeing Lord Ashton. I thought it best, in case there was news from his family.”

Iain rather doubted it. He’d believed that all his servants had abandoned him here. Why then, would one return to speak with him? There was more that he needed to understand, and he could not risk Rose and her family overhearing any of this conversation.

“I will meet with him outside,” Iain informed Fulton.

“That isn’t necessary—” Rose began to argue, but he only bowed to the ladies and hurried out. He strode into the hall and saw Niall waiting.

His gut tightened with suspicion, though the man stood with a bright smile on his face. He started to come forward to greet him, but Iain stopped him with a hand. “We will talk outside.”

He didn’t wait for a reply but beckoned for Niall to follow him out the front door. Once they had gone down the stairs, he led them across the gravel driveway, turning toward the garden. He never looked back at the man, but heard Niall’s light footsteps behind him. Within a few minutes, Iain reached the boxwood maze, and entered it, going deeper into the hedges until they were hidden from everyone else.

“Where have you been?” Iain demanded. “I thought you and the others were going to repair the coach and join me here.”

His former footman crossed his arms and leaned back against one of the hedges. There was an unreadable expression on his face, as if he were trying to decide what to say.

“You weren’t coming back, were you?” Iain surmised. “You used me for passage here, and you never intended to work for me.”

“Aye,” the man admitted. Yet there was no trace of remorse on his face—only weariness. “I thought I’d be finding work here and then send for my wife and children later. But no one wants to hire the Irish. There are too many of us.”

“Why would you think I’d want to take you back now?” Iain shook his head. “You made your choice when you left. And you sold my belongings off for three pounds.” He saw no need to keep a footman who had been disloyal.

The man removed his hat and twisted it. “It wasn’t a choice, my lord. Not really. I had no money for food, and no one would let me work.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “But I’ve family waiting on me to send them money.”

There was a heaviness in Niall’s voice, and he added, “I watched my daughter die of hunger, and I couldn’t save her. I would do anything to save the rest of my children. Anything at all.”

Perhaps that was true. But Iain no longer trusted the man. A desperate father might also resort to theft or murder if he had no one to help him.

Before he could refuse, Niall inquired, “Will you be traveling to London as you’d planned, my lord?”

He already knew what the man wanted, but he nodded. “We are traveling there in a week. Lady Rose and her family have agreed to help me find an heiress to wed.”

Niall’s expression turned thoughtful. “Then you’ll be needing a valet or a manservant to travel with you.”

Iain didn’t like the man’s assumption that he would take him back. “I think you should be on your way and find another employer.”

But his former footman made no move to leave. “I’ve nowhere to go, my lord.”

“You should have thought of that before you left me.” He kept his words cool, though he hadn’t missed the drawn look of hunger in the man’s eyes. “I’ve no need of your help now.”

Niall’s gaze lowered. “I can’t undo the mistakes I’ve made. But there is another way I can atone for it.” Iain waited, and the man continued. “There are stories about your mother,” he said. “Stories that you should know before you go to London.”

No. He refused to listen to more lies. Iain seized the man by his filthy shirt and shoved him back against the hedges. “Leave her out of this.”

Niall’s expression held pity. “I know you’ve always wondered why she hated you. Why she never trained you to be the earl, only your brother.” He placed his hat back upon his head and bowed. “If you’re wanting to know the truth, I can tell you the reason.”

Iain had no doubt that the man was lying. He’d already admitted that he would do anything for his family, and undoubtedly that included falsehoods. “Whatever it is you’re wanting, Niall, you’ll not get it from me. Go,” he ordered. “Our conversation is finished.”

The man studied him and kept his voice low. “That may be. But what do you suppose will happen when they find out that you are
not
the heir to Ashton? That your blood is no different from mine. And the only reason you had a place to live was due to your brother’s mercy.”

Lies,
his brain warned him. And yet, his blood had turned to ice. He couldn’t let go of the feeling that there
was
something wrong. Michael had named him the heir, and all the tenants had accepted him—at least, the ones who had stayed behind.

“Why do you think Lady Ashton never treated you like her beloved son?” His footman spoke in a whisper laced with bitterness. “I think you know the truth. You always have.”

His instinct was to release his temper, blackening the man’s eyes and beating him until he stopped spreading lies. But the coldness within him was rooted in doubt. He
had
wondered if he was illegitimate, possibly one of his father’s by-blows. It was the only logical explanation for his mother’s hatred of him. But Michael had been vehement that he was Moira’s son, despite her behavior.

He didn’t know what to believe.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,
Lord Ashton
,” Niall asserted. “And you ought to be knowing the truth before you present yourself as the earl.”

Iain straightened and met the man’s gaze evenly. “There is no game. I am the heir to Ashton, and the earl. Your falsehoods will not change that.”

“They are not lies,” his footman said. “But grant me a position with fair wages, and I will tell you everything I know.”

“You’ve gone and pickled your brains,” Iain remarked. “I have nothing to gain by hiring you.”

“But you have everything to lose.” Niall’s eyes glittered as he stared at him. “Don’t you want to know what happened to Lady Ashton?”

He could ignore the man, but the offer
did
tempt him. It was possible that Niall had only lies to spread . . . but what if there was truth to his words?

The man let out a heavy sigh. “I will return in the morning for your answer, my lord.”

He wanted to tell Niall not to bother. And yet, he knew desperation when he saw it. He’d chosen the footman to come to England because the man had a family to support, and Niall had needed the income.

But now, after he watched the man leave, he could only wonder what sort of threat his former servant posed.

During the next week, Rose noticed that Iain seemed more on edge. He had a new valet, Niall, who was deferential and polite. But instead of being thankful for his servant’s return, Lord Ashton seemed wary.

Ever since she’d taken her first steps, they had visited the garden each day. Rose continued to have Calvert carry her outside, in order to maintain the illusion of being unable to walk.

But today, before Lord Ashton arrived, her sister approached the stone bench. Unhappiness lined her face, and Lily sat down beside her. “Rose, you cannot keep on meeting him in secret. The servants are already talking.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” she protested.

“I believe you. But it doesn’t look right.” Her sister glanced back at the house and asked, “Is he courting you?”

“Not exactly.” Perhaps it was her own vanity, but she hadn’t yet told anyone in her family of her accomplishment. No, she wanted to keep it a secret, for as long as possible—at least, until she stood up in London and danced in front of everyone. It was a welcome daydream. She imagined how her family would exclaim their surprise and be overjoyed by the miracle.

“Then why do you spend an hour with him in the garden each day? It’s scandalous.” Lily appeared worried, her mouth twisted in a frown.

Rose answered her with a soft smile. “You needn’t worry. I am only teaching him about London society.”

“In a garden with no chaperone?” Her sister lifted an eyebrow at that. “When you could easily do the same thing in the drawing room?”

Her lips tightened, and Rose added, “He is helping me practice standing each day.”

“Which, again, you could do in the drawing room.”

She studied her sister and saw traces of redness in Lily’s eyes. No longer did it seem that she’d come here to lecture her about propriety. “There’s something else wrong, isn’t there? Is it Mother? Has she been giving away money again?”

“I don’t think so. But I received a letter from one of Matthew’s friends. He was taken captive by the Sikhs.” Lily’s eyes filled up with tears, and she clenched her hands together. “I don’t know what to do, Rose. He’s over there alone, and no one can say if he’ll come back alive.”

All she could do was reach out and embrace her sister. “We will pray for him. And in the meantime, you can write more letters. Perhaps when he is freed, he will know that you were thinking of him.”

“I feel so helpless,” Lily whispered. When she drew back, she closed her eyes, trying to gather her strength.

“Was there any word of James?” Her fear deepened when she realized that both of them could be captives.

“He’s alive, so far as they know,” Lily answered. “But he went after Matthew to try and bring him home.”

She gripped her sister’s hand. “Then we have to believe that he will. That both of them will come home soon.”

A single tear dripped down Lily’s face. “In the meantime, Mother and Grandmother are forcing me to try on gowns and talking about all the gentlemen I’ll meet in London. I don’t want to meet anyone. I’m not going to marry any man. This is an utter waste of time.”

“If you want, I will try to distract them,” Rose offered. Although her grandmother was spending most of her time on Lily, it might be that she could redirect their attention to her, if needed. No longer did she feel quite so averse to returning to London. Now that she had taken her first steps, there was hope for her future.

The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel caught her attention. Lord Ashton was approaching them from the house, and Rose wished she could warn him away. But her sister’s gaze narrowed upon the earl until he stood before them.

“Good morn to you both,” he greeted them. “Lady Lily, this is a pleasant surprise.”

Her sister sent him a false smile and nodded. “You’ve been spending a great deal of time with my sister, Lord Ashton. I hope you realize that the servants are gossiping.”

He sent Rose a conspiratorial look. “Are they? I suppose they think I am intent upon debauchery and ruining your sister.”

“Indeed.” Lily planted her hands upon her hips and waited for him to offer an excuse.

“I told her that I was teaching you about London,” Rose interjected. “She can’t seem to understand why I wouldn’t do so in a drawing room with chaperones present.”

He turned to Lily and met her gaze evenly. “Your sister is lying.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. You know full well that not only am I forcing you to kiss me, but we are committing fornication in broad daylight. Which would not be proper in the drawing room.” He lifted his own eyebrow and shot Lily a dark smile.

At that, Rose stood up and glared at him. Her knees were shaking, but she would not stand back and listen to this. Already her face was crimson at his insinuation. “Lily, don’t you dare believe his lies!”

“Why? It’s only now becoming interesting.” But the faint smile on Lily’s mouth revealed that she didn’t believe him at all.

“You are a wretch, when we’ve done no such thing.”

He only winked, and puckered his lips. She couldn’t believe his audacity. “If I had a rake right now, I would beat you senseless with it.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t.” He smiled again at Lily and said, “The truth is, I am teaching your sister to walk.”

His confession deflated her spirits. Why would he tell her sister that when she wanted it to remain a secret? How could he ruin her surprise?

“She’s made very little progress and has fallen several times,” he continued. “She did not want to alarm any of you. Especially the servants, who would accuse me of trying to harm her.”

Some of her anger dissipated, for he’d not mentioned her steps at all.

“Rose, no.” Lily urged her to sit back on the bench. “You’re going to hurt yourself. You’ve stood, and that in itself is a tremendous accomplishment. But walking?”