She wanted to believe him, but . . .
“You saw me and met Harriet two days ago and yet still this morning you planned to marry Lady Susan.”
He grinned. “I’m not always the most nimble-witted, apparently.” And then his expression turned serious again. “No, actually, I do need to thank Lady Susan for that. She was so shrewish and, well, evil to you and Harriet by the stream that she tore the scales from my eyes.”
He cupped her jaw with his hands. “I don’t want a marriage of convenience, Pen.” He pulled a face. “What a misnomer! There would be nothing at all convenient about yoking myself to Lady Susan or any of her ilk.”
He shook his head. “No, I want a real marriage, a marriage where I can share life’s burdens and joys”—he grinned, waggling his brows, which made her giggle—“and have my ‘animal needs’ attended to. I think that would be much more convenient, don’t you?”
She felt her resistance—and other things—begin to melt. It was very hard to withstand Harry when he smiled like that—especially when he was dressed in nothing more than a towel. His naked chest was extremely distracting.
He must have sensed that she was wavering, because his voice took on a cajoling tone.
“I need you, Pen. I think you’ve always been my compass, my North Star, even when you were here and I was on the Continent. You know me—Harry. You’ll keep me from losing myself in the Earl of Darrow.”
“Well . . .” It was true. She felt as if she knew him—and he knew her.
“My mother and Letitia think we should marry.”
“Yes, but . . .” Surely, having Harry’s mother and sister-in-law in favor of their union would help her face Society . . .
I did tell Harriet I’d thumb my nose at the ton.
“And you don’t have to worry about Lady Susan. She’s on the fringes of Polite Society—and, if what she told me is true, will soon be even farther removed. Leagues away—literally—in the wilds of Northumberland.” He shrugged. “Pardon me for saying it but a lot of people will be delighted by her absence.”
Pen would admit without the slightest hesitation that she would be delighted.
“I came to Little Puddledon as much to escape her as to help Grainger, you know.” Harry smiled as his fingers played with an errant strand of her hair. “I really must thank the duke for that. He wanted me away from Lady Susan. Told me he’d have to cut our connection if I married her.”
“Really?” Pen frowned. It was very hard to think when Harry was touching her like this. She should step back out of his reach.
She didn’t want to. “But that doesn’t mean he’ll prefer me.”
“Oh, I can guarantee you he will—you don’t chatter constantly about nothing like she does.”
A little bubble of happiness grew in her chest. Perhaps she could marry Harry. “I have been known to go on and on about greenflies and mildew, though.”
“I shall warn him, though he is a landowner. Perhaps he is interested in such things.”
“And I do know something about agricultural theory.”
“Ah.” Harry’s brow arched up, his eyes laughing. “The men will be shoving me aside to listen to you on that subject, I am sure.”
And then his smile slid away. “So, will you marry me, Pen, and be my wife and the mother of my children? You have my solemn word that I will love and cherish you all the days of my life—even when you speak of greenflies.” His lips quirked up at the edges. “Though I do not promise to listen to you on that subject.”
She laughed. “I have some very interesting things to say about greenflies, you know.”
“Mmm.” He was starting to take the pins out of her hair. “I’m sure you do.”
His fingers felt wonderful—but then he pulled his hands back so he was no longer touching her.
“Will you marry me, Pen? Because if you won’t, we should stop this, and I should go upstairs—alone—and get dressed.”
She looked at him. “Are you quite, quite certain, Harry? Farmers’ daughters aren’t supposed to marry earls.”
“This farmer’s daughter is supposed to marry this earl.” He grinned. “I feel quite, quite certain of it.” His grin widened. “Just think of me as another farmer, only one with a bigger farm.”
She wanted so badly to say yes. “I’m used to working, you know.”
“You’ll have plenty to keep you busy.” He leered at her, but then said, “And if you have extra time, I’m sure you can start a hopyard at Darrow.”
She hadn’t thought of that. “Do you have a brewhouse?”
“I believe so, but don’t ask me for the details—and don’t tell Miss Anderson.”
Pen laughed. “She’s got her hands full here. She might be interested in seeing if the village tavern at Darrow would care to sell Widow’s Brew, though.”
“I will leave those negotiations to you as my wife.” He raised his brow. “Assuming you are my wife. Will you have me, Pen?”
She wanted to say yes, but . . .
“People will talk.”
“People will always talk. People love to talk. I find I really don’t care much what people say. The people who matter will support us—my mother and sister-in-law, Grainger and my true friends. As for the others?” He snapped his fingers. “Just think of them as greenflies on your hop plants. We will pick them out of our lives like the annoying bugs they are.”
That made her laugh.
“Say yes, Pen. Please. My life isn’t complete without you.”
And hers wasn’t complete without him. She’d thought Harriet was enough, that she’d spent all her love on her daughter, but she’d been wrong. She had more love—a different sort of love—for Harry.
She’d swear she felt her heart expand then. Now that she’d taken down her walls, there was room for it to grow.
She’d thought the walls had protected her, but perhaps they’d just imprisoned her.
But he’s an earl—
Right. An exalted sort of farmer.
She looked into his handsome and oh, so, precious and familiar face.
Be fearless . . .
Harry made her fearless.
She was going to marry him. It might be mad, but she was going to do it.
“Very well. Yes. I accept your offer.”
His grin was blinding.
Her grin must be equally blinding . . . and then she frowned. “But I can’t leave the Home until after we harvest the hops, you know.” Regrettable, but true.
“When will that be?” His fingers went back to work on her hair.
“A week or two. Maybe three.”
He nodded, pulling the last pin free. “I’ll talk to Grainger about replacing the vicar. If he can do it quickly, we can be married by license here.”
He combed his fingers through her hair. It felt wonderful.
And then he bent his head to whisper by her ear, “I hope you don’t mean to make me wait until then.” His lips touched her skin and she shivered.
She couldn’t wait.
We should tell Harriet . . .
Harriet was with her grandmother. They could tell her—and Harry’s mother and Letitia—soon enough. They had something more important to attend to first.
She put her hands on his chest—his warm, bare chest. “Let’s go upstairs.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A native of Washington, DC, SALLY MACKENZIE still lives in suburban Maryland with her transplanted upstate New Yorker husband. She’s written federal regulations, school newsletters, auction programs, class plays, and swim league guidance, but it wasn’t until the first of her four sons headed off to college that she tried her hand at romance. She can be reached by email at [email protected] or by snail mail at PO Box 10466, Rockville, MD 20849.
Please visit her home in cyberspace at
www.sallymackenzie.net.
WHAT TO DO WITH A DUKE
Welcome to the charming, fatefully named village of
Loves Bridge, where a wo
man destined for spinsterhood
can live a life of her own choosing—
or fall unexpectedly, madly in love . . .
Miss Isabelle Catherine Hutting would rather be lounging
in the library than circling the ballroom in search of a
husband any day. So when Cat hears that the town’s
infamous Spinster House is open for a new resident, she
jumps at the chance to put all this marriage business
behind her. But first she must make arrangements with
her prospective landlord, Marcus, the Duke of Hart—
the most handsome man she’s ever seen, and the only
man who’s ever impressed her in the least . . .
With her wit, independent spirit, and not least of all her
beauty, Marcus can’t help but be stirred by Cat. It’s terribly
unfortunate he’s not looking to marry, given the centuries-old
curse that left his family with the Spinster House to begin
with. No duke shall live to see his heir’s birth.
But is there a chance the curse could be broken—
in true fairy-tale fashion—by an act of true love?
The race to Happily Ever After is about to begin . . .
HOW TO MANAGE A MARQUESS
In USA Today bestselling author Sally MacKenzie’s
charming Spinster House series,
love is always a welcome guest ...
Two possible futures loom before Miss Anne Davenport.
The first option: sharing an unhappy home with her father
and soon-to-be stepmother. The second: a life of
independence at the Spinster House—if only her friend,
Cat, would vacate the premises and marry the Duke of
Hart. A well-placed whisper about the pair’s secret tryst
might speed the course of true love. But the duke’s
stubborn cousin poses an obstacle. A ridiculously
handsome, very persuasive obstacle . . .
Nate, Marquess of Haywood, has spent his life looking out
for the duke, hoping to stave off a family curse.
The only way to keep his cousin alive is to keep him
single. That means convincing the intriguing
Miss Davenport that her lovely lips could be put to far
better use than gossiping. Kissing, for instance. In fact,
Nate is beginning to hope that Miss Davenport’s destiny
lies not in the Spinster House at all, but with him . . .
WHEN TO ENGAGE AN EARL
If love is a malady, the Spinster House ladies have caught it,
one by one.
Miss Jane Wilkinson couldn’t be more delighted when her
two best friends marry, creating a much-desired vacancy at
the Spinster House. For the first time in her twenty-eight
years, Jane can be free of her annoying older brother and
enjoy complete solitude—with the exception of the
Spinster House cat, Poppy. If only Jane’s unruly thoughts
didn’t keep drifting to handsome Alex, Earl of Evans, in
the most un-spinster like ways . . .
Though jilted once, Alex has always intended to marry and
raise a family. Now that his two closest friends have tied
the knot, he is more determined than ever to find a wife.
If only it wasn’t the intriguing Miss Jane Wilkinson that
his heart—as well as the rest of him—desired. Not only
does she appear uninterested in marriage, it’s clear she’s
the managing sort. And yet, despite Alex’s fiercely
independent spirit, the idea of being managed by her is
quite appealing. Now if he can only convince her to give
up her beloved Spinster House in favor of a far more
pleasurable home—in his arms . . .
BEDDING LORD NED
Pleasure Is On Her Dance Card
Determined to find a husband, Miss Eleanor “Ellie”
Bowman attends a ball put on by the Duchess of
Greycliffe, fondly referred to as the Duchess of Love. But
she roundly dismisses the suitors the matchmaking hostess
has invited on her behalf. For it’s the duchess’s dashing son
Ned, Lord Edward, who long ago captured Ellie’s heart—
and roused her desire. All it takes is a pair of conveniently
misplaced silky red bloomers to set the handsome
widower’s gaze on this unusual girl who is clearly more
than meets the eye . . .
After four years of mourning, Ned must find a wife. At
first glance, the birthday ball his mother has thrown in his
honor is decidedly lacking in suitable mistresses. But he
senses something unexpectedly alluring beneath the veil of
Ellie’s plain exterior—and suddenly she’s invading his
dreams in a decidedly scandalous manner . . .
SURPRISING LORD JACK
Unladylike Behavior
Frances Hadley has managed her family’s estate for years.
So why can’t she request her own dowry? She’ll have to
go to London herself and knock some sense into the men
interfering in her life. With the nonsense she’s dealt with
lately, though, there’s no way she’s going as a woman.
A pair of breeches and a quick chop of her red curls,
and she’ll have much less to worry about . . .
Jack Valentine, third son of the famous Duchess of Love,
is through being pursued by pushy young ladies.
One particularly determined miss has run him out of
his own house party. Luckily the inn has one bed left—
Jack just has to share with a rather entertaining red-headed
youth. Perhaps the two of them should ride to London
together. It will make a pleasant escape from his
mother’s matchmaking melodrama!
LOVING LORD ASH
A Little Misunderstanding . . .
Kit, the Marquis of Ashton, is in a sticky wicket. He
married young and for love—how naïve. He discovered
his mistake the very day of his wedding, but he is saddled
now with a wife he’s reluctant to trust. And however much
evidence he gathers against faithless Jess, he can’t seem to
prove her guilt to the final judge—his foolish heart.
Jessica knows she’s bobbled her marriage, however
innocently. A fairytale wedding makes no difference if
she hasn’t got the marquis charmed to show for it. Well,
she’s had enough of accidental encounters with naked
gentlemen and near misses explaining things to her
husband. It’s time to buck up and go win her man back—
even if she has to fight very dirty indeed.
What Ales the Earl Page 28
