Graham slid off his horse. No sooner had his feet hit the ground than Miss Browne’s body collided with his. She wrapped her arms around him. “I did not think anyone would come!”
“I am here now,” Graham said soothingly. He embraced her gently, relieved to find her for the most part unharmed. “Is this horse lame?”
Miss Browne stepped back as if sensing suddenly their closeness. She wiped her tears away. “He tripped, but he seems unharmed, just tired.”
“Well, let’s see if we can get him to his feet,” Graham said as he walked over to the horse. “Come on now, old boy,” Graham said coaxingly to the horse as he tugged at its bridle.
The horse reluctantly came to his feet and Miss Browne breathed a sigh of relief. “I am glad that he was not harmed too much by my carelessness.”
“You may ride on my horse. If I am correct, there should be an inn just up the road a piece.” Graham helped Miss Browne up on his horse. He looped the reins from both horses in his hands and led them toward the inn.
Miss Browne whispered, “Are you certain of where this inn is? I should not like to think of you walking for miles on end.”
“Believe me, I shall ride your horse if I get tired,” Graham assured her.
Thankfully, after walking the horses for an hour, the welcoming light of an inn shown through the trees and Graham found himself quite relieved. He had not fancied walking another hour or two, no matter how pleasant Miss Browne’s company.
At the inn, Graham handed the horses over to the stable boys and went inside with Miss Browne. Soon enough they both had rooms and they were able to sit down over a warm meal in the main room. Graham lifted his glass of wine to the blonde across from him. “To our misadventure,” Graham said in amusement.
Miss Browne’s cheeks coloured in embarrassment as she clinked her glass against his. “I am sorry that I pulled you away from London. I did not think it such a rash thing until I was on the road and I realised that I had let my emotions carry me away.”
“It is rather unlike you,” Graham said as he cut up the piece of roast pork on his plate. “Why is it that you came to such a sudden decision?”
Miss Browne looked at her plate as she rolled some of her peas back and forth. “It was not as sudden as it probably seemed.” Graham gave her a curious look, and instead of clamming up as she had before Miss Browne gave him a sad smile. “The day of Lord Stanhope’s party I left because I was embarrassed. Your sister told me to enter through the servant’s entrance. Everyone heard her. I was mortified.”
Graham’s jaw clenched. “I shall have to speak to her.”
“No. You see. I realised while I was sitting the dark that it was my fault. Amanda was just trying to show me what everyone else was too polite to say. This is all my fault because I tried to get above my station.” Miss Browne ate a pea and then said, “I think I have finally come to terms with the fact that one really should not fight the place where one was born. I am a vicar’s daughter, and that is all I shall ever be.”
Graham fumed at the very thought of that. “Nonsense,” he grumbled. “You are a beautiful, intelligent woman. You should never settle for what so-called betters deem to give you off the table. You deserve better than that, and my sister has no right to judge anyone.”
“She did offer me to be her guest, and I refused. She had every right to treat me as her maid because I was her maid, Lord Easterly,” Miss Browne said with a shrug of her shoulders.
Graham leaned forward. “How my sister treated you is worse than any run of the mill maid, Miss Browne. I have spoken with her about her behaviour at length.”
“If that was so, why did you agree to allow me to serve at your dinner party?” Miss Browne covered her face. “Oh, no. I am making you miss your party.”
Graham frowned. “What party?”
Miss Browne peered at him puzzled. “The party that Amanda said you were having tonight. She said that I had to serve Lord Stanhope and the Duchess of Windham.”
With a sigh, Graham growled, “It appears I have even more to talk to my sister about.”
Miss Browne shook her head. “She was probably jesting, but I was still so hurt from the incident at Lord Stanhope’s that I could not see it. It appears I am an even bigger fool than I thought.” She gave a sad laugh and took a sip of her wine.
Graham could see her fighting back her tears. “Never mind all of that. I for one do not mind a night away from home. It is rather peaceful here. Let us enjoy this lovely meal, shall we?”
Miss Browne nodded and they fell into a companionable silence as they ate. Graham had not lied. This was indeed rather pleasant.
After they had parted ways to head to their rooms, Graham could not help the nagging sense that Miss Browne was still upset. He went to her room and knocked gently. Her voice called, “Who is there?”
‘It is me, Miss Browne,” he called back softly through the door to keep from disturbing the rest of the inn.
She cracked the door open and he gave her a friendly smile. “Lord Easterly,” she said in confusion. “I thought you were off to bed?”
“I was, but I could not help but think that you still seemed upset. There is no way I could sleep thinking of you in distress, so I came to check on you,” Graham gave her a helpless gesture, which caused Miss Browne to smile.
She leaned against the door. “This seems an odd place to talk.”
“I could come in, but there might be rumours,” Graham said with a soft laugh.
Miss Browne whispered, “I promise not to tell anyone.” She stepped back and offered him entrance.
“I really should not,” Graham said, even if he did find it tempting. “What is it that is bothering you? What else has my sister done that has you so upset?”
Miss Browne shook her head. “There is nothing else that Amanda has done, I assure you.”
“Then what is it? I beseech you, Miss Browne. Do you never wish me to sleep again?” Graham gave her a teasing smile.
Miss Browne leaned her head to the side as if she was considering he said. At length, she sighed. “It is the Duchess of Windham, if you truly must know.”
Graham’s brows furrowed as he tried to picture the raven-haired duchess being cruel to Miss Browne. “It does not seem much like Her Grace to be mean-spirited, but what is it that she has done?”
“That is just it. She has not done anything to me.” Miss Browne looked at Graham with a sad expression. “She is perfect. She is beauty refined and measured. She is everything I shall never be.”
Graham studied her for a long moment. “You almost sound jealous.”
“I am,” Miss Browne said with an honesty so raw that Graham could almost feel her disappointment in herself. “I despise her, and I have no reason to. But when she looks at you and you look at her, I feel quite sick.”
Graham stared at her for a long moment. “You are jealous. You are jealous because you think I like her?”
“Do you not?” Miss Browne seemed to be holding on by a thread, her hands wringing together as she awaited his answer.
Graham could not believe what she was saying, what she was asking. Miss Browne actually viewed him as a man unto himself, a man worthy of jealousy and not just her friend’s older brother and a patron. “You misunderstand my intentions with Her Grace. The Duchess of Windham and I are friends. We have been since well before I went to the war, but we are nothing but friends.”
“She wishes to be more,” Miss Browne ventured.
Graham nodded. “I suppose she does. I should have been more straightforward with her but I never had a reason to be until now.”
Miss Browne took a step forward. “Until now?” Her voice was so soft, so fragile.
Graham reached out and ran a finger along her cheek. “I cannot help what the duchess feels, but I never intended being more than friends with her.”
Miss Browne pushed forward and Graham did not fight it when the young woman tugged his jacket to bring him within reach. Their lips met, slightly, gently,
then more insistent.
A voice cleared its throat behind Graham, and he stepped back out of the embrace as Miss Browne too took a step backwards, as if ice water had been thrown upon her. The innkeeper’s wife stood behind Graham eyeing them with keen interest.
“Begging your pardon, Lordship,” the woman said as her eyes slid over to Miss Browne. “I was just coming to offer the lady a towel for the morning.”
Graham recovered himself swiftly. “Of course. I was just bidding Miss Browne goodnight.” He turned toward Miss Browne and gave her a slight bow. “Goodnight.”
“And you,” Miss Browne said with a curtsey.
Graham inclined his head to the innkeeper’s wife and was swiftly off to his room again. When he closed his door, he leaned his head against the coolness of the wood. What had he been thinking? He mumbled a curse beneath his breath.
Chapter 8
Charlotte did not truly want to allow the innkeeper’s wife to dally, but the woman insisted her way right into Charlotte’s room. “Now, let me place this towel down here,” the woman said busily.
Charlotte hovered near the door. “I really do not require anything.”
“I just want to make sure all our guests are comfortable.” The innkeeper’s wife stopped and looked at Charlotte. “You look familiar. Are you that girl from the penny portrait?”
Charlotte blushed deeply. She had forgotten all about Mrs. Lennox saying her print had become quite popular. “I have had a penny portrait made, yes.”
“Miss Browne, I think the print was called. Didn’t see your name on the ledger.” The woman’s curious gaze took in Charlotte from head to toe. “Suppose His Lordship has you set up for the night.”
Charlotte floundered. She sputtered, “I – perhaps – I mean yes.”
“The Earl of Atcham is a lovely man. He comes through here all the time. Can’t say I’ve seen this side of him.” She was puttering here and there as she spoke. “Oh, well, guess I better let you get some sleep.” The woman gave Charlotte a wink as she left.
Charlotte stood in the doorway completely puzzled by the woman’s bizarre behaviour. “What an odd woman,” she mumbled as she got ready for bed.
It was not until the next morning that Charlotte realised what she had done. She had confirmed her identity to the woman who had seen her kissing Lord Easterly. Charlotte fairly raced to Lord Easterly’s door that morning but could not bring herself to knock.
How would it look? No. Charlotte turned around and walked back to the stairs to simply await him downstairs. As she did so, she heard Lord Easterly’s door open.
She turned around in surprise. “Oh, Lord Easterly,” she said, as if she had not just been about to knock on his door. Charlotte wondered at how the man could make himself look so handsome after a long ride from London and a night in an inn.
Lord Easterly gave her a smile. “If you are headed to breakfast, let us go together.”
“Is that wise?” Charlotte asked. “After last night, I mean.”
Lord Easterly seemed to give it some thought. “Perhaps you are right. You may go down first and I will come later. I would never do anything to harm your reputation.”
“I may have done that myself,” Charlotte told him in a whisper. “The innkeeper’s wife knows who I am from that penny portrait that Mrs. Lennox had done in London.”
Lord Easterly breathed out a sigh. “There is nothing to be done for it now. Just go on down to breakfast. I shall be down shortly.”
Charlotte had little choice but to do as he said. Lord Easterly knew society better than she did. She walked down the stairs as butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She saw the innkeeper’s wife at the counter below.
The woman’s gaze went to Charlotte and Charlotte wondered if it was just her imagination or did she see deviousness in her face. She looked away and found an empty table. A few minutes later, Lord Easterly came down the stairs. He looked around and raised his hand in greeting when he saw her.
“Good morning, Miss Browne,” he said as he came to sit down with that easy grace that drew Charlotte’s eyes. “Did you rest well?”
Charlotte took his lead and pretended everything was just fine. “Not as well as I would have liked.”
“I am sorry to hear that, but you did have a rough day,” Lord Easterly said, his voice kind and soft.
Charlotte gave the man a small, polite smile. “I am sure once I am home things will right themselves.”
“Are you still intent on leaving London?” He looked honestly interested and Charlotte could not fault him.
Charlotte shrugged. “I just feel as if I need to. I want to visit my family’s graves and just collect my thoughts. I feel somewhere along the way I have gone astray and I cannot seem to get back to who I am.”
“I thought you fit rather well into society,” Lord Easterly commented.
The innkeeper’s wife popped by and brought them breakfast. “I hope you slept well, Lordship,” the woman said in a crisp tone that would sound at home in any profession.
“I did,” Lord Easterly replied. “Thank you,” he said as he poured himself some of the coffee off of the breakfast tray. “Would you like me to pour your coffee or tea, Miss Browne?”
At being addressed, Charlotte’s eyes snapped up to the man. “Oh, tea please.”
The innkeeper’s wife, who was still lingering nearby, said conversationally to Charlotte, “I am not much on coffee either.”
Charlotte offered the woman a polite smile, but Lord Easterly ignored her entirely. When he held out the teacup, Charlotte took it with a soft “Thank you”.
Finally, the innkeeper’s wife seemed to run out of reasons to loiter, and she scurried off to check on some other travellers. “I do think you are right to worry about that one,” Lord Easterly said in a low voice as he picked up his coffee. “She looks hungry for gossip.”
“I suppose we do seem odd,” Charlotte acknowledged. “I have no chaperone and I am with a man of stature. It would look out of place to me as well.”
Lord Easterly took a sip of his coffee. “If you are worried about my reputation, do not. I am worried about you. Ladies tend to suffer more in such situations.”
“Because we are supposed to know better than to get ourselves into them,” Charlotte said with a sigh. “The more time passes, the more I cannot fathom my own actions.”
Lord Easterly gave her a kind smile. “We all do things in a rash manner sometimes. I have done things like that myself. I went off to war in such a manner.”
“Did you really?” Charlotte paused with the teacup halfway to her lips.
Lord Easterly nodded slowly as if he were thinking and remembering. “I was hurting. You may well be familiar with the sting of grief, but I felt not only that but guilt. I put everything on my shoulders just as my father had taught me.” He set down his coffee cup and folded his hands on the table. “At the moment I enlisted it seemed right and proper, but I should not have left Amanda. I should not have gone off like that, being the heir. It was irresponsible. Something my father would never have condoned.”
Charlotte whispered, “Did it at least help?”
“With the grief?” Lord Easterly looked at Charlotte, who simply nodded. He lifted a hand to rub his chin, and Charlotte could see the agitation in him. “No. My grief stayed with me and followed me home.”
Her heart broke at the look in his eyes when he finally lifted his gaze to hers. She knew that look. She wanted to reach across the table and clasp his hands, yet she dared not. “I wish there was something I could do.”
Under the Seductive Lady's Charm: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 16
