The Spinster and the Earl (21 page)

“Indeed, sir.” She laughed. “And leave you here at the mercy of all these eager young ladies? I think not. Faith, it would be most cruel if I did so. For a gentleman may only take one lady to wife.”

“Then, my dear lady, what do you suggest we do?” he asked, his voice suddenly deep and rough with open desire blazing in his brilliant sapphire eyes.

Caught off balance, she could find no glib reply.

“I—I don’t know,” she whispered, smelling the clean scent of his freshly starched silk shirt. She pulled back to look up into his ruggedly handsome face.

His bright blue eyes searched hers. A warm, throbbing excitement coursed through her. Her beloved pirate was about to plunder her heart.

“Don’t you, my dear? And I thought that by now you understood how I felt about you . . . I told you at your father’s house that I intended to make you my wife. And I still do.”

“Yes, you did speak of wanting me,” she said, a sudden fear constricting her heart, remembering his previous proposal, how he had tried to frighten her into accepting, by dangling the threat of scandal over her head. She turned away from him, gripping the balcony’s railing, her knuckles white with tension. She was not certain how to answer.

He had spoken of his attraction for her, but not of those more tender feelings she’d always associated with marriage. That of respect and mutual fidelity mixed with the strongest of all feelings for the other person—love.

“And what is your answer?” he asked, his breath seductively warm upon her face. “Will you have me? And become the mistress of this castle and all its many holdings, including me?”

She looked up at him uncertainly. She realized she wanted hearth and home as much as any other woman. But the fear, it was still there . . . she was still uncertain she could trust him. Was he like the others who had pursued her merely for her wealth? Did he care for her beyond what her purse strings could provide?

“I—I can’t,” she said, her eyes holding his with a worried, searching expression. Did he understand her reservations? Could he possibly wait till she’d sorted out these frightening emotions? Perhaps giving her time to build her trust in him and a future they would have together?

“Shush,” he said, placing a finger over her lips. “You don’t have to answer me now. I believe you need some time to think this over. We’ll talk of this at another time, when you’ve had time to consider.”

She nodded, relieved that he understood. He was giving her the time she needed to be certain that she was about to make the right decision. It would allow her to free herself of any doubting demons.

He whispered huskily, “While you think upon our union, consider this,” and sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her. His insistent mouth possessed hers, his arms holding her body up against his until she trembled with desire and sweet longing, drawing him to her as she returned the kiss.

Unknown to the couple were two men watching from the tall, French doors that opened out onto the balcony. Their dark forms and softly spoken words were overheard.

Sharp, beady eyes focused upon the embracing couple.

A man in a stolen livery uniform wiped his nose across the clean sleeve, which would have pained the true owner if he’d known. He began to take meticulous notes. For a few gold coins placed in his unclean hands, he’d happily promised to spy upon the members of the household, thinking all the while of how to quickly destroy the couple before him.

Another set of eyes spied upon the couple, as well. But his eyes brimmed with tears of disappointment. Instead of continuing to stare at the couple, he turned and silently walked away from them.

*    *    *

That night in an inn of ill repute some five leagues from Drennan Castle, the same pair of cynical, sly eyes that had spied upon the earl and the spinster, made their reappearance. They squinted eagerly in the dim light of the taproom, adjusting to the pitch dark after coming in from the moonlight.

The room was crowded with thugs and cutthroats for hire. He searched for the man he’d come to contact.

He nodded to a few acquaintances. He had been here but three days ago, when he had been one of the men lounging around the taproom getting drunk, hoping to be one of the lucky to feel the cool roundness of a few coins greasing the palm of his dirty hands.

The bartender, wearing a white wig, conversed with a gentleman, a titled one by the looks of his elegant clothes. The gentleman, a dapper man, in mustard-colored waistcoat nodded to the informant as way of greeting, indicating a room to the right where the two could find some privacy for their conversation. For who knew which man in the room would be willing to betray their plans for a few well-placed guineas? A whispered word in the right ear could produce plenty of the desirable gilt. For their venture involved those of considerable wealth.

The squinty-eyed man entered the secluded room with eager anticipation. It was screened off from the rest by a mere curtain. The news he had to impart would stir, he was certain, the titled gentleman into action.

“Well, what news do you bring me, Snipes?” asked the haughty lord, hoisting an elegant red heeled boot up onto a nearby bench. “It had better be worth my while. I can’t continue spending my gilt on the worthless tripe you’ve been feeding me lately. Has there been any further development between my lady and that gentleman?”

Snipes wiped the foam from the tankard across his sleeve before he spoke. His eyes focused upon the lord before him.

The aristocrat had paid him quite well to enter the service of the Earl of Drennan and to spy upon him and the young lady who had been acting as the mistress of the household. He regretted not being able to squeeze a little more money out of the lord for the spying. Perhaps if he told him of what he saw and heard, the fancy shirt would be willing to hire him for the other half of the job.

“Aye, my Lord Linley. There’s been a development betwixt the two of ’em. You might even say of an intimate nature, if you gets my meanin’.”

“Indeed,” drawled the man, raising his quizzing glass to his eye, inspecting the commoner. The impertinent mercenary talked about his betters in such a knowing tone, as if he had the audacity himself to look up the lady’s skirts.

“How intimate, Snipes?”

“What I meant, sire, is that the lady and him you told me to spy upon, were seen being very friendly towards one another and talkin’ of marriage and such,” said the man with a breathy smile of villainous intent.

He eagerly rubbed his dirty hands together.

“Now what do you want me and my partner to do about it? I take it none of these goings on meet with yer approval? Been intending to have a go at the lady for yerself, eh, gov’? Want to get a little bit o’ her between the—”

“Be careful of how you speak of my intended,” the aristocrat said shortly, touching the sword at his side. “Or you may find yourself quickly being replaced by another, and quite permanently.”

“Aye, for sure, m’lord. I was just makin’ a harmless jest,” said the brigand. He was confused by the gentleman’s intentions towards the wealthy spinster and the newcomer, the earl.

“Do you wants me ter send for my friend now? He can help us, uh—escort her ladyship to you for any impending nuptials.”

The aristocrat twirled his quizzing glass. A gleaming yellow smile of satisfaction lined the creases of his pock-marred face. He leaned his head back against the chair, contemplating his revenge against the woman who had spurned him.

He envisioned how much he would harm her and felt once more the pull of satisfaction in his nether regions when he dreamt of it. Aye, he would experience great pleasure in cowing the shrew’s will to his. Demme, if he wouldn’t take a whip to her if she didn’t do as he wished.

“Yes, Snipes,” he said, sipping his mulled wine. His eyes glazed with a madman’s dreams. “It’s time we put our plan into action. Contact your friend.”

Placing a pile of gold coins on the table, he began to make concrete his own plans for the Spinster of Brightwood Manor to become his bride.

*    *    *

Under an almost cloudless blue sky, Lady Beatrice found herself floating along in a boat rowed by young Lord Reginald Fortescue. Normally, she would have found the company of the young lord to be a bit overpowering, like too much perfume, cloying, overly sweet. But not today. Today was glorious no matter whose company she found herself in.

She had spent half of the previous night dreamily thinking about the earl and his proposal. She had not yet confided in anyone what had passed between herself and the handsome master of the house. Not even to her inquisitive aunt, who was usually so uncannily aware of all that occurred in the castle. No one knew of their meeting last night.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night, Lord Reginald?” she asked, lazily letting her fingertips dip into the cool water of the lake.

“Not exceptionally,” murmured the young lord. Then not able to resist a tiny jibe, he added, “Not like some ladies and gentlemen in the assembly I can think of.”

“Is that so?” Blithely smiling, Beatrice adjusted her parasol to her right shoulder. The lace silk sunscreen twirled fetchingly in her gloved hands. She did not realize what a pretty picture she made in her yellow poplin afternoon gown trimmed with white lace, her dark curls spread about her as she leaned comfortably back into a pile of pillows, her emerald eyes half-closed, dreamily thinking of the gentleman she’d kissed.

“Faith, I had such a glorious time last night myself. Captain James, I mean His Grace,” she blushed, “took a great deal of care in planning for the ball, supervising nearly every detail of it himself. I do believe everyone had such a grand time dancing.” She sighed blissfully, remembering the feel of his hands on hers as they waltzed.

“Including his exalted self,” murmured the disgruntled young lord, jealously remembering the way he’d seen the lady and the earl together on the balcony.

“What was that you say?” asked Beatrice, suddenly sitting up and causing the boat to rock a little.

The young lord stopped his rowing and looked her directly in the eyes, water dripping from the oars. “It was noticed that your ladyship and His Grace did not return immediately to the ballroom after you finished your dance,” he said, his face placidly shuttered from any revealing expression. “So I went looking for you, Lady O’Brien, supposing you had taken a stroll out onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air.”

“I . . . uh . . . that is, I did,” she said, a telling tinge of pink staining her cheeks. Suddenly, she recalled that if the earl had not asked her to dance, she would have with Lord Reginald.

She cast a questioning look at the young lord before her. Had he been witness to her and the earl’s embrace? If so . . .

“Lord Reginald, I—” she stammered, but found she could not continue. It was far too embarrassing.

“Yes, Lady Beatrice.”

“I, uh—that is—I regret missing our dance last night,” she said. “And I don’t want you to think that I don’t esteem your friendship. It was intolerably rude of me to have forgotten you were next on my dance card.”

“Not to fret, my dear,” he said reaching for her hand.

She immediately stopped her ramblings. She looked at him.

“Lady Beatrice,” he said, swallowing. “I want you to know that it is I who value your friendship. At one time I thought our friendship might develop further into something dearer, at least I thought that would happen. There had been for me a hope it would grow and allow us perhaps to contemplate a match between us.”

He sighed deeply, as if lifting off a heavy burden that had been hanging over his head since they first met. He thrust aside his mother’s dire warnings of cutting him off without a guinea. He was a man, not a puppet. Now he intended to cut the invisible maternal strings that had been dictating his actions all week.

“I now realize that we would never suit. Lady Beatrice, it would appear you and I were meant to remain simply friends.”

Beatrice leaned over the oars and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Lord Reginald. I would like that. I have so few.”

At that the young lord laughed. “And that is why, madam, almost every gentleman on this lake watching us right now would like nothing better than to hang me by my own cravat. And if I’m not mistaken, one gentleman in particular is glaring daggers at me in a rather dangerous manner. I hope he doesn’t decide to call me out after this. I’ve grown rather fond of not having any holes in my tender hide.”

“For sure now?” she asked laughing, highly amused at the thought. The idea of someone fighting a duel over her was absurd. Turning her head in the direction of the shore, she glanced to see of whom he spoke.

Her hand stilled above the water. She ought to have known. He stood there, imperiously watching them, lordly with impatience as he awaited her return to shore.

“Aye, so it is him,” she said pleased, for it was none other than the Earl of Drennan.

She winked at the young lord. “And a grand sight he is, too, if I don’t mind saying so, my lord.”

“Are you contemplating a match then, ma’am?” asked the young lord, and strangely felt a tinge of envy for his rival.

She shrugged, sobering at the question, her eyes never leaving the shore where the earl stood watching. “I confess I am contemplating the question.”

“Hmm . . . ,” murmured the young lord, eyeing the shore and the man. “I’d decide quickly if I were you. He doesn’t strike me as a very patient fellow.”

*    *    *

When they reached the shore, the Earl of Drennan came and stood in the knee-high water. He held his hand out for her as she stood, ready for the moment when she would step out of the boat and onto the pebbled shore. Unexpectedly, the bottom of the boat hit the sand. Caught off balance, she fell heavily against his sturdy chest.

He smiled wickedly down at her, and without any warning, swooped her up into his arms and carried her effortlessly to the shore.

“Did you thank young Lord Fotescue for the ride, my dear?” he asked looking down at her with a possessive gleam in his eyes.

“I did, my lord. Why?”

“Because from now on, my sweet, I intend to be the only one allowed to be alone with you in a boat.”