by Merry Farmer
“And where did you encounter him?” Rory asked, as though reciting a line in a comedy to set up the punchline of a joke.
“At Mrs. O’Toole’s wool shop,” Miss Sperrin told them all with the most charming grin Avery had ever seen.
He wanted to throttle her.
He wanted to kiss her into oblivion.
And then he wanted to do it all over again.
“Mrs. O’Toole’s wool shop?” Rafe asked, barely able to hide his laughter as he glanced to the others.
“Is that the lovely shop on the corner of the high street?” Caelian asked, starting to break down into laughter in earnest.
“I have been told that Lord Carnlough is quite the accomplished craftsman,” Miss Sperrin said, making Avery’s private shame sound like a glowing accomplishment.
Fergus’s one eye suddenly went wide. “Is that where that bright green muffler you wore all last winter came from?”
Avery cleared his throat and glared at his kinsmen. That only served to have them all dissolving into laughter. Avery loathed being laughed at—although he didn’t mind the sly sparkle in Miss Sperrin’s eyes nearly as much as he thought he would. In fact, it made him feel rather warm, inside and out. Which, of course, presented another kind of embarrassment as his trousers suddenly felt too tight.
“Miss Sperrin, perhaps you would allow me to thank you for bringing these things in a different parlor?” he suggested, sending her a pointed look that he hoped she would interpret correctly.
“I think that would be wise,” Miss Sperrin answered, sending Avery’s heart soaring. She understood him without needing an explanation. “It was a pleasure meeting you all, my lords, however briefly,” she said to the others, then let Avery escort her from the room.
Once they were across the hall—a journey that was accompanied by the sound of laughter bursting from the others—Avery glanced briefly into the bag.
“I hope those are the colors you wanted,” Miss Sperrin said, a hint of apology in her softened voice once they were alone. “And I hope you can forgive me for a bit of teasing.”
Avery glanced from the bag to her, a lightness in his chest that he could only describe as fondness. “Yes, of course,” he said.
He wanted her. The truth hit him square in the chest as he took in the sight of her clever, smiling face, her pink cheeks, and her dark, flashing eyes. He couldn’t be certain so early in the game, but something within him told him that Miss Sperrin was precisely the sort of woman that his kinsmen had been raving about. She was the sort of woman he could be happy with.
“Mrs. O’Toole included the bill in the bag, if you should feel the need to reimburse me for the purchase,” Miss Sperrin went on when the silence between them went on for too long.
“Good Lord,” Avery cursed himself, reaching into the bag. He took out the receipt and raised his eyebrows at the amount. “I am so terribly sorry to inconvenience you this way. You most certainly did not have to settle my accounts for me or deliver the wool at all.”
“I must admit, I had an ulterior motive,” Miss Sperrin confessed, her smile as fetching as ever. “I did not expect you to be entertaining, however.”
Another lurching throb passed through Avery’s chest. Miss Sperrin had risked her reputation, in a manner of speaking, to bring him knitting wool. Young ladies generally did not call on single earls unchaperoned. It was precisely the sort of forwardness Avery loved in a woman, and at the same time, Miss Sperrin’s reason for calling could be considered a simple, domestic errand. Clever indeed.
“Miss Sperrin, would you care to walk out with me sometime?” he asked before he could lose his nerve. “Perhaps on Friday? It is the least I can do to thank you, and I will have cash to reimburse you by then. And…and I would simply like to spend an afternoon with you.”
Miss Sperrin’s entire countenance lit up in a way that made Avery feel like a green boy with his first fascination. “I would love to, my lord,” she said. The way she tilted her head down slightly and glanced up at him through her lashes was perfection.
“I will call on you Friday, then,” he said. He turned to glance at the doorway and into the hall. “I would invite you to stay for a while, but as you saw, I already have company.”
“And I would not wish to disturb what I am certain is quite a serious conversation,” she said with mock solemnity.
Avery found himself wondering how soon it was seemly to drop to one knee and ask a woman to marry him.
“Perhaps we could discuss knitting on Friday,” Miss Sperrin went on, taking a step toward the door. “I have fallen out of the habit, but I do know how.”
“I’m certain we could find a great deal of more interest to discuss,” Avery said. He set the bag down on one of the chairs, then held an arm out to escort Miss Sperrin into the hall and along to the front door. “Something tells me we could find quite a few things that we have in common to talk about.”
“I’m certain we could,” Miss Sperrin said with a smile as they stopped by the door. “Until Friday, then, Lord Carnlough.”
“Until then,” Avery said, unable to drag his eyes away from her.
As far as he was concerned, Friday couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter 3
Three days had never passed so slowly. Maeve was thrilled with the attention Lord Carnlough had shown her. More than that, she couldn’t believe her ploy to take him the wool he’d almost purchased had worked.
“I question the wisdom of such a forward action,” her mother said on Friday afternoon, as she helped Maeve style her hair and prepare for the outing, “but I cannot question the results.”
“I can assure you, Mama, I had no idea that Lord Carnlough would invite me into his parlor, let alone ask to walk out with me,” Maeve told her, grinning at her mother through the mirror as she put the finishing touches on Maeve’s hair. “I merely intended to deliver the purchase he left behind.”
It was a teeny, tiny lie. She hadn’t expected anything, but she’d desperately hoped she’d be able to spend a moment alone with Lord Carnlough, in spite of the impropriety of doing so. Her mother and father were of the traditional opinion that single ladies should be kept far away from single gentlemen, and that the mingling of the sexes should only be done under careful circumstances.
That didn’t mean she was unwilling to let Maeve ride out with a marriage-minded earl, however.
A careful knock sounded on Maeve’s door, and their maid, Marcy, stuck her head in.
“Begging your pardon, Miss Maeve, but Lord Carnlough is here to see you,” Marcy reported, stars in her eyes.
Maeve leapt up from her chair and whirled around to fetch the riding jacket she’d chosen for the occasion. Lord Carnlough had sent a note the day before asking if she knew how to ride a bicycle and to dress appropriately for the activity.
“Now Maeve,” her mother said in a gently scolding voice, stepping into Maeve’s path as she raced for the door, “you must behave yourself this afternoon.”
“Yes, Mama, I know,” Maeve said, attempting to step around her mother.
Her mother stepped into her path again. “Lord Carnlough would be quite an impressive catch for a young woman of your station,” she went on, “but do remember that he is a member of that wicked O’Shea family.”
“I am well aware, Mama,” Maeve said with a sigh of impatience. She admired the O’Shea family and the freedom with which they lived their lives, even if they were the origin of over half of the scandals that had taken place in the county in the last two years.
“Protect your virtue at all costs,” her mother went on, chin tilted up. “Lord Carnlough has no need to marry you if you should suddenly find yourself ruined.”
Maeve narrowed her eyes a bit. “I beg your pardon, Mama?”
Her mother pursed her lips, but there was enough genuine feeling in her expression to keep Maeve from being angry with her. “You are a fine young woman from a good family. While it would be more usual for Lord Carnlough to mar
ry a woman of his own class, if he should find his head turned with love enough to offer for you, no one will be more than passingly surprised. But a man in his station could just as easily dally with your affections and leave you bereft. And we all know what becomes of women who have fallen from the moral high ground.”
Maeve’s heart caught in her throat. As far as she knew, her mother didn’t know about little Ryan and the fall Alice had experienced. She couldn’t be hinting at that now, could she? If her mother knew, she would have forbidden Maeve from associating with Alice at all.
“I will be exceedingly careful and guard my honor with my life,” she said gravely.
Her mother rewarded her with a smile. “Good. And I have taken steps to assure that Lord Carnlough is kept in check as well.”
Maeve’s confidence faltered. “You have?”
Her mother didn’t answer right away. She merely smiled, patted Maeve’s arm as though she were proud of the accomplishment of finding an earl as a suitor, and walked with Maeve downstairs.
Maeve’s excitement dropped again as they reached the front parlor, where Lord Carnlough was waiting. He wasn’t alone. He very much wasn’t alone. Of all people, Alice was there with him, standing close as they conversed near one of the windows, smiling up at him with a flirtatious glint in her eyes.
“Alice, what are you doing here?” Maeve asked, striding across the room with the intent of slipping between her friend and her beau. “I am certain I informed you that I would be unavailable this afternoon.”
“I’m going with you,” Alice announced with a bit of predatory brightness in her eyes.
“You’re…I beg your pardon?” Maeve glanced from Alice to Lord Carnlough, who looked equally baffled by the turn of events.
“I took the liberty of inviting your dear friend Alice along as your chaperone,” Maeve’s mother said. She smiled and clasped her hands in front of her as though she’d accomplished a coup.
“How thoughtful and considerate of you, Mrs. Sperrin,” Lord Carnlough said, taking control of the situation. “I am certain the three of us will have a lovely time this afternoon.”
Lord Carnlough met Maeve’s glance with a look of apology. It was a minor consolation. Maeve did her best to smile in return, hoping she could communicate with words that she would have been much happier if they were alone.
“Shall we be on our way, then?” she asked with false cheer.
“Yes,” Lord Carnlough said. He glanced to Alice, then gestured for her to precede him out of the room. “I’ve taken the liberty of borrowing some of my cousins’ bicycles for the day.” He went on as they exited through the front door and onto the drive, where three bicycles waited.
“I brought my own,” Alice said as she fell into step with Maeve. “Your mother warned me that we would be bicycling today. Isn’t it a grand activity?”
Maeve wanted more than anything to turn to her friend and demand to know why she thought she could wedge herself into Maeve’s moment. Fury was the last emotion she wanted to feel when she was off on an excursion with the man she hoped to marry. The trouble was, she was fairly certain she knew precisely what Alice’s motivations were, and as angry as they made her, after what her mother had just said about the hopes of women with ruined reputations, Maeve wasn’t certain she could entirely blame Alice for her actions.
“I thought we could ride out to a small tea shop I know near Carnlough Beach,” Lord Carnlough said once they were all mounted on their bicycles and pedaling down the drive. “It is run by a tenant of mine, though it is several miles from my estate. The view of the sea is quite lovely.”
Maeve opened her mouth to say it sounded divine, but Alice beat her to it.
“I cannot wait,” she blurted with a smile. “I have been told your estate is quite lovely, and I am looking forward to seeing it.”
Maeve’s mouth remained open in shock. She glared at Alice when she was certain Lord Carnlough wasn’t watching her. Alice was supposed to be her friend, not her rival.
The only thing that stopped Maeve from bursting with frustration was when Lord Carnlough turned to look at her over his shoulder as he rode slightly ahead of them and said, “You ride well, Miss Sperrin.”
Maeve forced herself to keep her head about her and to be nothing but sunshine and graciousness. “I am new to bicycle riding, my lord, but when I gave it a try for the first time last year, I found I quite enjoyed it.”
“Me too,” Alice added with a smile to match Maeve’s. “We learned to ride together. It was quite a relief to get out of the house and to try something fun after…after a lingering illness.”
Twin emotions of nostalgia and irritation flashed through Maeve. They had enjoyed learning to ride bicycles together. Maeve couldn’t remember when she’d laughed so hard. That would have been a perfect summer, but for the melancholy Alice experienced from early motherhood, secret-keeping, and not being able to spend enough time with Ryan. She wondered why Alice had been so cagey by telling Lord Carnlough she’d suffered an illness. The man knew about Ryan. Perhaps Alice was hoping he’d forgotten so that he’d see her as a potential bride.
“I’m rather new to the exercise myself,” Lord Carnlough said, slowing down a bit so that he could ride by Maeve’s and Alice’s sides. “I’m used to riding horses. But I must admit, there is a definite freedom in propelling oneself this way. I consider bicycle riding quite the accomplishment, particularly in a woman.”
“Do you?” Alice brightened, batting her eyelashes at him. “Then watch this.”
Alice burst forward, outpacing Maeve and Lord Carnlough and displaying not only her bicycle-riding skills, but her boldness and daring. Maeve risked a sideways glance at Lord Carnlough, and when she saw the light of amusement in his eyes, she knew she had to act.
“Last one to the tea shop is a damp squib,” she laughed, pushing harder on the peddles and speeding forward.
There was something about racing over the green hills and meadows that lifted Maeve’s spirits, in spite of the way she’d been disappointed. The afternoon might not turn out as she’d hoped, but she could still enjoy herself. Alice was most certainly showing off as she flew down a sloping hill, laughing openly, but Lord Carnlough stayed close to Maeve’s side instead of racing off to join her.
It was the perfect day for a bicycle outing as well. The skies were grey and cloudy, but that simply meant there wasn’t a great deal of sun glare to spoil the fun. A breeze blew in from the sea, rippling the grass like waves and helping to cool Maeve as she exerted herself. She doubted the hairstyle her mother had fixed for her would stay in place, even with a hat pinned firmly to her head, but that didn’t seem to matter as they rode on, enjoying themselves.
“I like a woman who isn’t afraid to race a bicycle across a country road,” Lord Carnlough called to Maeve as they rounded the crest of another hill. They were finally able to see the sea in the distance. “I admire bravery in a woman,” he added with a wink for her.
Maeve’s heart soared. “And I like a man who doesn’t think a woman should be kept in the home as a domestic ornament,” Maeve called in reply.
“Yes, that fashion has become a little too popular for my tastes in this day and age,” Lord Carnlough said.
“If it’s speed and courage you admire,” Alice interrupted, proving that she’d been listening in on the conversation, even though she rode several yards ahead of them, “I will show you that.” She glanced over her shoulder with a wicked look for Lord Carnlough, then said to Maeve, “I doubt you can keep up with me.”
It was a challenge if ever Maeve had heard one. When Alice pushed forward to speed down the hill, Maeve thrust herself into action and followed her. Immediately, they were engaged in a race with the most valuable prize of all, Lord Carnlough.
Maeve kept up with Alice, but it took a great deal of effort. She was overheated and damp in spite of the breeze as they raced down the hill. She didn’t like the gritty look of determination in Alice’s eyes either, or the way sh
e seemed to have lost all friendly feelings in her desperation to catch Lord Carnlough’s eye. Maeve wished she could stop her friend, take her aside, and assure her that Lord Carnlough wasn’t the last chance she would ever have, and that, in spite of Ryan, she was exactly what so many men would want for a wife.
Alice seemed determine to win at all costs, though. It was all Maeve could do to keep up with her as they rounded a corner at the bottom of the hill, speeding onto a stretch where sand covered part of the road.
Maeve knew disaster was about to strike as soon as she hit the sand. She’d been peddling so fast and had picked up even more speed on the downward slope, and as soon as the bicycle’s tires slipped on the sand, she lost control of the vehicle. Try as she did to grip the handlebars and keep the contraption straight, between the sand and the curve of the road, it was a lost cause. She went careening off the path and into the grass.
The bicycle hit something in the grass, and for one heart-stopping moment, Maeve thought that was the end. She was thrown from the bicycle and flew several feet before crashing with a thump in a thick tuft of grass and late-summer wildflowers. The blow of her landing knocked the wind out of her and sent bruising pain through her gut and limbs. She tried to block her fall with her arms, but that only resulted in a sharp, twisting pain in her left wrist.
“Miss Sperrin, are you well?” Lord Carnlough shouted. He steered his bicycle to the side of the road where Maeve had taken her spill, leapt off, and ran toward her.
Maeve groaned as she muscled herself to a sitting position. “I…I think so,” she said, panting.
Alice stopped farther down the road. Her eyes went wide when she saw what had happened to Maeve. As fast as lightning, she turned her bicycle around and peddled back to where Maeve had crashed.
“Are you hurt?” she called out to Maeve as she, too, abandoned her bicycle by the side of the road and rushed to Maeve’s aid.
