Waiting for an Earl Like You

by Alexandra Hawkins

  Chapter Two

  Olivia was beyond mortified.

  Before she had left the house, she had promised her father that she would stay out of mischief. Until the Countess of Grisdale had entered her and Lord Dewick’s lives, her father had found little fault in his only daughter. Of late, all he saw were her flaws.

  “A lady never drops her mask of gentility and grace, even when she is alone,” was one of the countess’s favorite sayings.

  Before Lord Kempthorn had appeared, she had been doing so well. Even Gideon had remarked on the changes he noticed since he had last seen her, and his manner had been respectful when he had invited her to join him at the lake.

  Now she looked like a soggy moppet that the earl had plucked out of the water.

  She glared at her companions, but the effect was ruined by the silly taffeta ribbons that were blinding her. “I have had enough humiliation for one day,” she announced as she tested Lord Kempthorn’s firm grip with a quick tug.

  Since no one was paying attention to her, her release earned her another mouthful of lake water. The water was not deep, but she was shorter than the Netherwood twins. Lord Kempthorn took custody of her arm again. At this rate, she would end up with bruises.

  “What the devil are you doing?” the earl demanded.

  “You and your brother may be accustomed to bathing in spring lake water, but I am not,” Olivia said, struggling not to lose her temper. “If it is not too much trouble, I need some assistance. My skirt and petticoat are too heavy for me to swim to the dock.”

  She untied the ribbons of her ruined bonnet and removed it.

  “You can swim?”

  Olivia could not decide if Lord Kempthorn was deliberately baiting her or was amazed that she was capable of something more than drowning. “Of course I can swim. My brothers insisted that I learn.”

  Not that she was feeling wholly confident in her skills as her wet skirt undulated around her body as her movements stirred the water.

  “I will help her.” Gideon moved closer.

  “No need.” The earl brushed his brother’s offer aside. “I have her.”

  The light pull on her arm alerted Olivia of his intentions. “My lord, there is no need to—”

  Olivia pressed her lips together to keep from swallowing more lake water as Lord Kempthorn’s actions caused her to sink lower in the water as he drew her closer. Water dripped down her nose as she scowled at him. A part of her wondered if he had done it deliberately to silence her.

  “Stop fussing,” he scolded, pressing her against his chest. His arm slipped under her legs and he cradled her in his arms. “Your lips are not the only thing turning blue in this water.”

  A soft choking sound erupted from Gideon’s throat as he tried not to laugh. “And I thought I was the one who was lacking in manners,” he mocked.

  Olivia felt her face heat as she tried not to dwell on what part of Lord Kempthorn was turning blue. She clutched her sodden bonnet tighter and was grateful the earl was no longer looking at her. Their proximity was awkward for both of them. Instead, his gaze was focused on the dock as he waded toward it.

  “Give me a moment,” Gideon said, reaching the dock before them. He braced the palms of his hands on the wooden surface and used his arms to haul himself upward and then his knee to secure his perch. He shook himself to rid his clothing of excess water.

  The twins had always been vain peacocks when it came to their attire. Only the finest tailors and fabrics for the Netherwood twins, she mused. Her gaze lingered on his arms. The wet linen was clinging to him like a second skin, revealing the muscled contours of his upper arms.

  “Stop flaunting your impressive physique to Miss Lydall and lend me a hand,” Lord Kempthorn growled.

  Gideon winked at Olivia. “Thorn, you are just jealous that I am her favorite.”

  Appalled by his outrageous boast and the undeniable fact that she had been caught staring, Olivia hurriedly averted her eyes. She could practically hear Lord Kempthorn’s teeth grind together as he resisted offering his brother a scathing denial that would likely hurt her feelings.

  Fortunately, the earl was too much of a gentleman to stoop so low.

  Oblivious to the tension he had created, Gideon crouched down and extended his arms. With an envious display of strength, Lord Kempthorn raised her fully out of the water and handed her to his twin.

  “You are a remarkably light burden, my lady,” Gideon teased. “And such a pretty one, too. Perhaps you and I should take a stroll into the woods.”

  “Gideon,” the earl said, a clear warning.

  Her pulse quickened. “Mr. Netherwood, stop baiting your brother.”

  “I disagree,” Gideon drawled, his heavy-lidded gaze meeting hers as they both became aware that her wet dress was revealing more of her body than was proper. “The notion has merit. When was the last time you were kissed?”

  His mouth was temptingly close to hers.

  Olivia grabbed Gideon by the chin and turned his face away from hers. “Did you strike your head when you fell into the water? Cease this foolishness and release me at once!”

  Lord Kempthorn gracefully climbed up onto the dock. “Put her down. You are upsetting Miss Lydall.”

  “Miss Lydall, Lord Kempthorn, Mr. Netherwood,” Gideon muttered under his breath. To Olivia’s relief he complied with his brother’s command. “There was a time when we used to be friends. When did we become bloody strangers?”

  Olivia felt her throat tighten as a rush of sadness threatened to overwhelm her. To conceal her distress, she frowned and concentrated on squeezing the water from her sleeves.

  The earl turned his back on them and knelt down to make certain the rope was secure. Olivia doubted Lord Kempthorn had ever considered her a friend, so she did not expect to hear him deny that any ties they shared had been severed a long time ago.

  “We were children,” she said softly. At Gideon’s look of frustration, she smiled at him. “If you are planning to remain in England, perhaps we can be friends again.”

  His stern expression eased into mild amusement. “I never stopped, Olivia.”

  “Here.”

  Olivia blinked in surprise at the frock coat Lord Kempthorn held in his hands. It was the one Gideon had removed and abandoned in the sailboat.

  “It will ward off the chill and give you a degree of modesty when we return to the main house,” the earl explained without looking directly at her.

  The wave of heat she felt had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. She glanced down and brought her ruined bonnet up to conceal her breasts. If not for her stays and petticoat, the wet dress was almost as sheer as the gentlemen’s linen shirts.

  “Good grief!” Olivia glared at Gideon who was grinning at her. “And you said nothing, you scoundrel!”

  Unrepentant, Gideon did not bother to hide his appreciation. “Why would I spoil such a lovely view?”

  Her response was to shove him into the water.

  When Gideon surfaced, he was still laughing. “You don’t have to be prudish around us, Olivia. If you think about it, we are all but family.”

  He climbed back onto the dock.

  “You must forgive me if I disagree, Mr. Netherwood.” Olivia huffed and snatched the coat from Lord Kempthorn. “And what about you, my lord,” she said, her embarrassment making her voice gruff. “Were you enjoying the view as well?”

  Holding the bonnet to her chest, she struggled to put her arm into one of the sleeves of Gideon’s coat. Without being asked, the earl stepped forward and helped her into the oversized tog.

  “I doubt you will find comfort in my answer, Miss Lydall.” Lord Kempthorn glanced at his brother, who had water dripping from his long limbs and puddling at his feet. “And I would prefer to avoid another plunge into the lake. Shall we go?”

  He gestured toward the cobblestone path.

  Unable to think of a clever response, Olivia pinched the edges of the frock coat together and left the two brothers standi
ng on the dock.

  That’s when she realized that she had lost one of her shoes.

  * * *

  Pity stirred in Thorn’s chest as he and his brother watched Miss Lydall struggle to maintain the frayed threads of her dignity as she walked toward the cobblestone path with her chin held high.

  By Jove, the lady was a bedraggled mess!

  Soaked to the skin, her white muslin dress had molded to her body in a fashion that a Covent Garden nun would have considered scandalous. Gideon’s coat covered her from her shoulders to her thighs, but he had held her in his arms. The water had made the front of her bodice almost transparent, giving him a teasing view of her breasts. The soft swells of flesh were generous without being too ample. His body had responded to the tantalizing bounty in his arms. His cock had hardened in spite of the chilly water, which should have dulled what was a perfectly natural response to gazing at the female form.

  Even if the lady who had inspired his unruly body’s response was Miss Olivia Lydall.

  Annoyed, Thorn abruptly turned and punched his brother in the shoulder.

  Gideon grunted. “What the hell was that for?”

  Thorn shook his head. “Your sins are too many to list, brother. Hurry along.”

  Neither man had to quicken their pace to catch up to their companion. He winced at the squishing and fart sounds coming from his and Gideon’s boots as they walked several steps behind her.

  Without acknowledging them, Miss Lydall absently touched her damp hair. She had lost most of her ornamental hair combs when she had pulled off her bonnet. Her dark hair fell a few inches below her shoulder blades. The ends were already drying and beginning to curl into small ringlets. The natural curls were rather charming, Thorn decided as he admired the way her hair gleamed in the sunlight and bounced in rhythm with her steady gait. Of course the lady smelled of lake water, and her curls—as pretty as were—required a thorough combing or her hair would look like a rat’s nest when it dried.

  A soft cry of pain jerked him from his musings. Miss Lydall halted and inclined her head to inspect her shoeless foot as he and his brother caught up to her. The white stockings she wore were dirty, and her upturned foot revealed a small hole in the delicate silk.

  The earl noticed that the ruined stockings encased small delicate feet and attractive ankles. He frowned at the direction of his thoughts.

  “What is it? Did you hurt yourself?” Gideon asked before Thorn thought to.

  “Just a sharp stone, Mr. Netherwood,” she said, expelling a sigh of frustration. “There is no hope for my stockings. It is the third pair that I have ruined in as many days.”

  Although she had piqued his curiosity, he had resisted asking her to elaborate on her statement.

  “Here. Permit me to take a look,” Gideon said, kneeling down so he could examine her foot. He bowed his head and gently checked the bottom of her foot for an injury. Without looking up, he said, “Our families are too close to stand on formalities. If you call me by my given name, then I will know you have truly forgiven me for my carelessness.”

  She cast a nervous glance in Thorn’s direction, sensing he would be displeased with her taking such liberties. Undecided on how she should proceed, she tapped Gideon on the shoulder. “There is nothing to forgive. Pray stand, sir. You are embarrassing me. My foot does not warrant your attention. I was merely startled.”

  Gideon slowly straightened from his crouched position and stared at Thorn. Both men were aware that she had deliberately ignored his invitation to put aside all formalities. His brother looked slightly annoyed, but not at Miss Lydall.

  Thorn sensed his brother was blaming him.

  So very typical of Gideon.

  “Well, there is no help for it.”

  Puzzlement shadowed her face. “No help for what?”

  “We cannot have you walking about the grounds with only one shoe,” Gideon explained. “I will carry you.”

  “Gideon, I do not—” Thorn began.

  “A very generous offer, but not—” Miss Lydall began.

  His brother swept Miss Lydall into his arms.

  She squeaked in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Gideon!”

  “Ah, sweet Olivia, I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me forever,” his twin teased. He glanced at Thorn and winked.

  Thorn shook his head as they continued down the cobblestone path.

  “This is absurd. Put me down at once,” Miss Lydall primly ordered. “I am too heavy.”

  “You are light as swansdown,” his brother countered. “With a beautiful lady in my arms, I can walk for miles.”

  “Then put me down and go find a beautiful lady,” she said, kicking her feet to slow him down. “If anyone sees us together, I will never live down the humiliation.”

  “So you are too good to be seen with us, is it?” Gideon asked.

  “Oh, do not twist my words,” Miss Lydall spat. “It is going to be difficult to explain why I fell into the lake. Showing up with the two of you will only create more problems for me.”

  “It was an accident, Miss Lydall. Who will challenge our account? Your father? Your brothers?” Thorn pressed when she said nothing else.

  She shook her head. “Lady Grisdale.”

  “Why would she meddle?”

  Thorn had been introduced to the thirty-five-year-old widow last Season. The encounter was so unremarkable he could not recall any details of their conversation.

  “The countess has tired of widowhood and has decided my father would make a tolerable husband,” she confessed.

  “You are joking,” Gideon said.

  “I dearly wish it was a jest,” she said, gazing at the horizon. “My father seems … amenable. As a sign of her devotion to him, Lady Grisdale has vowed to take me under her wing to improve my chances on the marriage mart.”

  For a girl who had been lacking a mother’s guidance for most of her life, Miss Lydall did not appear to be overjoyed by the prospect of gaining a new ally to navigate the tricky waters of securing a husband.

  “Is that what you want?” Gideon softly asked. “Are you hoping to find a husband?”

  Miss Lydall shrugged. “I have not given it much thought until this year. After all, I will soon turn twenty. I have a few more years before I can officially call myself a spinster. Do you not agree?”

  Gideon laughed at the absurdity of her question. “Quite so, my dear girl.”

  “Is your father also eager for you to marry?” Thorn asked in even tones.

  Another dainty shrug. “Lord Dewick—my father—is content to leave such matters to the countess.” She chewed on her lower lip in contemplation.

  “What are you not telling us, Olivia?” his twin asked.

  “Please put me down, Gideon. I cannot think with you—just please do as I say,” Miss Lydall pleaded.

  His brother hesitated as he silently debated if he should honor her request or do what he thought was best for her. It was obvious to Thorn that time and distance had not dimmed Gideon’s affection for the chit. If his twin wasn’t careful, he would be caught up in the lady’s troubles.

  Some of the tension in Miss Lydall’s slender shoulders eased when his twin allowed her to stand. “Thank you. Shall we go on?”

  “You never answered my brother’s question, Miss Lydall.”

  She gave him an exasperated look. “Are you truly interested in my problems, Lord Kempthorn?”

  When your problems concern my brother, I am.

  “Naturally. As Gideon pointed out, you are almost like family to us,” Thorn lied.

  “Well,” she said, drawing the word out, “in spite of my father’s assurances, I do not believe Lady Grisdale has my best interests at heart.”

  Gideon linked his fingers with hers. “Are you certain? I am not familiar with the lady.”

  The muscles in Thorn’s jaw tightened at the ease his brother was able to slip into the role of friend and protector.

  “In private, she is always ridiculin
g me. I can do nothing right in her opinion,” Miss Lydall said, the melancholy in her voice touching even Thorn’s heart. She continued down the cobblestone path, and he and his brother followed her lead.

  “The devil you say. You are wonderful. Any lady would be honored to have you as a daughter,” Gideon said, already her staunchest defender.

  “You are too kind.” She met Thorn’s gaze and held it as if daring him to contradict his sibling.

  He expected to see hurt in her cornflower eyes, but Miss Lydall looked bloody furious.

  She switched her attention back his twin. “Lady Grisdale does not wish to be my mother, Gideon. I am something of an inconvenience to her. She wants to see me married and out of my father’s house.”

  “Have you spoken to your father?” Thorn asked.

  Miss Lydall nodded. “Once. However, he is smitten by the countess and is blind to her faults. Besides, the lady is careful in how she treats me in front of my father. If he is asked to choose between me and the woman he desires to wed, then I will lose.”

  It was difficult not to feel sympathy for a motherless girl who will soon lose her father to another lady.

  Gideon’s jaw hardened and his gaze narrowed with determination. “Then we must do something.”

  No! Thorn thought. His brother had a bad habit of making a fool out of himself when it came to women. He was not going to allow Miss Lydall to involve her brother in her family troubles.

  “There is nothing that can be done,” she said, appearing resigned to her fate. “This is why I want to avoid a confrontation with my father and the countess. Our accident will bolster her argument that I am an embarrassment to him.”

  She glanced wistfully at the path that led to the cottage. “Are there any old dresses stored in the cottage? Perhaps I could find a dress and change before we—”

  Thorn rejected her suggestion by shaking his head. “Any of my mother’s old dresses are given to the servants.”

  “Ah, one of the guests might have something I could borrow.”

  “Our mother thought it best to have the unmarried gentlemen reside in the cottage. Discovering a lady’s dress in their possessions or you dressing in borrowed breeches would create more talk than the three of us walking into the main house in our wet clothing,” Thorn said, amused that her shoulders dramatically sagged as he dismissed the thought of her wearing male togs. Although seeing the lady in breeches would give him a good view of her legs.