Waiting for an Earl Like You

by Alexandra Hawkins

  She grinned at him. “Well, I did have ten of them.” She held up her hands and counted them off with her fingers. “Two abandoned their posts because they felt too isolated, four of them declared I was too willful and wearing on their nerves and all quit within a few months, three were seduced by my father so he was forced to dismiss them, and I believe it was you who bedded the last of the lot.”

  Gideon shut his eyes and sagged against the wall. “You know about that?”

  “The poor creature cried on my shoulder when she heard you had abandoned her for London and a new mistress.” She crossed her arms and frowned at him. “She claimed to be half in love with you.”

  “Christ, you were a child when I”—he gestured vaguely as he struggled not to be indelicate—“I have no words.”

  Olivia laughed. “I was twelve years old, so that would mean that you and your brother were breaking hearts at the ripe old age of eighteen years old.”

  He groaned. “I feel as if I owe you an apology, my dear.”

  “Miss Hill—that was her name in case you have forgotten.” She grinned when he shook his head and muttered something about her impertinence. “She was an emotional creature and prone to melancholy. I doubt she would have lasted more than a year. Besides, if it is any consolation, I suspect she sought comfort in one of my brothers’ beds,” she said blithely. “I could never quite figure out which one, though it is not really important. Though it was reason enough for my father to sack her.”

  Gideon covered his eyes with his hand and rubbed his temples with his thumb and finger. “You were too young to be privy to such details.”

  “What do you expect from a poor motherless girl raised by her father and two brothers?” she said cheekily. Olivia tilted her head. “This door leads to the conservatory, does it not?”

  Gideon grinned down at her. “It does.”

  Olivia stilled. “What did you find for me?”

  He placed his hand against the small of her back and gestured toward the door. “You will have to come see for yourself,” he said enigmatically.

  Olivia did not need a second invitation. She opened the door and entered the Felsteads’ conservatory. The hidden entrance was not designed to impress the guests. The walls were aligned with tools for gardening and several long wooden tables. A wall of shelves separated the work area from the plants and trees Lady Felstead tended.

  “Where is it?” she asked, eager to see what Gideon had discovered during his travels.

  “Near the fountain,” he replied, his expression indulgent.

  Her eyes gleaming with excitement, she grasped the front of her skirt and hurried to the southeast section of the conservatory. She slowed and clasped her hands together when she saw it.

  Gideon came up behind her as she knelt down to admire her gift.

  “The fellow who procured it for me called it a coontie,” he said.

  It certainly wasn’t the handsomest plant in the Felsteads’ conservatory. The rough woody cycad had a dull reddish hue with a hint of green leaves sprouting at the top.

  “I would have sent it to your house months ago, but I thought it had perished during the journey when it lost all of its leaves. Mother suggested it needed some time to recover.”

  Her hand lightly stroked the fragile leaves. “You brought me a Zamia pumila. Where did you find it?”

  He lifted his shoulder in a careless shrug. “The West Indies. Do you like it?”

  “Like it?” She straightened and faced him. “I absolutely adore it!”

  Impulsively, Olivia launched herself into his arms.

  Gideon grunted as he caught and embraced her. “So you are pleased? I know little about plants,” he confessed. “Nevertheless, this one had caught my eye. It was so odd-looking, I knew you would love it.”

  “I do,” she assured him. She leaned up and kissed him several times on the chin, making him laugh. “You are so kind and wonderful. Oh, I have truly missed you, Gideon!”

  “I missed you, too, Olivia.” He stared down at her and gave her a lopsided smile. “Seeing you again makes me wish that I had returned home sooner.”

  Her earlier enthusiasm dimmed as she savored the firmness and strength of his upper arms. “Why did you—”

  The sound of someone clearing his throat startled the couple.

  Olivia released her hold and swiftly stepped away from Gideon, and he mirrored her actions. Over his shoulder, she saw Lord Kempthorn standing six feet away. His blank expression gave her no indication to his thoughts, but she sensed his disapproval. The earl’s gaze touched briefly on her face before it dropped to the front of her dress. Her cheeks heated as he noted how the fabric stretched tightly over her breasts and then moved to the light dusting of dirt on the skirt.

  “Thorn,” Gideon said casually.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Lord Kempthorn asked.

  Olivia bent down and brushed away the dirt. “Not at all,” she said, her movements feeling stiff and awkward under the earl’s cool perusal.

  “Olivia was admiring her gift,” Gideon said, oblivious to the increasing tension between her and the earl. “Would you like to see it?”

  “I have seen enough,” Lord Kempthorn quipped. “Before you embarrass the lady further, perhaps we should escort Miss Lydall back to the drawing room.”

  Olivia straightened and pasted a cheerful expression on her face as she met the earl’s stern gaze. “A very kind offer, Lord Kempthorn, but I can find my way back on my own.” She turned her head, and the rigidity in her lips softened as she stared at Gideon. “Thank you for the plant. May I leave it here until I can arrange for one of my father’s servants to collect it for me?”

  “Of course, my dear,” Gideon replied. “Run along. We will see each other before I leave.”

  “Leave?” The mild curiosity in his brother’s voice held a note of censure.

  Olivia acknowledged Gideon by nodding. The tension she had sensed from Lord Kempthorn had abruptly shifted from her to his twin. If the two men intended to argue, she had no interest witnessing it.

  She curtsied and murmured, “My lords.” She could feel the gazes of the two brothers on her as she strolled out of the conservatory through the main entrance.

  The second Thorn was convinced Miss Lydall was out of earshot, he confronted his brother. “What’s this foolishness about leaving?”

  Gideon’s handsome features were pensive as he stared off in the direction of Miss Lydall’s departure. “Do you do it deliberately?”

  Frustration flashed in Thorn’s dark green eyes. “You will have to be more specific.”

  “Very few things manage to upset Olivia. However, you manage to send her scurrying with that disapproving scowl on your kisser.” Gideon turned, his gaze ablaze with banked fury. “Have you been treating her poorly since I left?”

  “Has she come to you with a complaint?” Anger stirred in his breast at the implication. Never in his life had he mistreated a woman, and his brother knew it.

  “No,” he admitted with some reluctance.

  “Then how I deal with Miss Lydall is not your concern,” he countered, unwilling to let his brother goad him into a fight.

  “When did you start calling her Miss Lydall?” Gideon asked. “She is a neighbor and friend to our family. We played together as children. She was always Olivia to both of us, and now you behave as if she was a stranger.”

  “You speak of the days when we were boys.” Thorn glanced away from Gideon’s doubting expression. “Once we were old enough to be sent away to boarding school, our days at Malster Park could be counted in months. In recent years, my visits have become less frequent. However, when I do join our mother and father, I rarely have the time or inclination to call on every neighbor. Besides, you were always her favorite. I barely spoke to her even when we were boys.”

  Gideon rubbed his jaw. “Still jealous that she favored me over you, are you?”

  “Not in the slightest,” Thorn scoffed. “The annoying baggage
was too cheeky for her own good, and she had a nasty habit of getting into mischief. You were too indulgent with her then, and it appears nothing has changed. Every time I have sought you out this day, Miss Lydall had been clinging to you like a bloody shadow.”

  Gideon’s green eyes narrowed, and Thorn braced for the storm he saw gathering in his brother’s gaze. Instead of rushing to Miss Lydall’s defense, he exhaled slowly and shook his head. “Aye, and it took some effort to coax her onto that sailboat earlier because the brave girl I knew has grown into a frightfully skittish miss. Not that I minded the task. If you were paying attention in my absence, you would have noticed Miss Olivia Lydall has grown into quite a ravishing beauty. It’s a blessing you never called on her and her father. You might have had a chance to steal her away from me.”

  The not-so-subtle taunt annoyed Thorn. He had always prided himself in possessing a keen eye for the bold and exotic when it came to women. Unlike their friends St. Lyon and Rainbault—and Chance, before he had married Lady Tempest—Thorn was in command of his passions and carnal appetites. His affairs were discreet and satisfying. There were no tearful recriminations from his lovers when their affair ended because he never made promises that he could not keep.

  He avoided emotional, willful females who were ruled by their heart rather than their heads. Miss Lydall was such a creature, and he had done his best to avoid the charming disorder that surrounded her.

  “I highly doubt it,” Thorn said, glancing at the odd-looking plant his brother had given Miss Lydall with a slight sneer on his lips. It was ugly and not worth the enthusiasm and chaste kisses she had pressed against Gideon’s chin. The women he courted and bedded would have spurned such an unappealing gift. “I do not covet the lady.”

  “I would be relieved if I believed you.” Gideon walked toward the large double doors.

  His brother was wrong. Thorn was not attracted to Miss Lydall. He trailed after Gideon. “You are deliberately trying to provoke me.”

  “Perhaps,” his twin drawled. “However, I am still calling you a liar.”

  It wasn’t until he and Gideon had returned to the house that Thorn remembered that his brother had not explained why he had told Miss Lydall that he was leaving.

  Chapter Six

  “You have been behaving oddly all evening.” Chance pulled Thorn aside after the evening meal. “You are beginning to worry me.”

  The dining room was too small to accommodate all of Lord and Lady Felstead’s guests, so long tables had been set up in the ballroom. To manage the overflow, several tents had been converted to serve anyone who preferred to eat outdoors with their family.

  “There is nothing to worry about.”

  Thorn had expected to see his brother to join him at the main table, where he intended to finish their conversation. Instead, Gideon had secured a seat at the same table as Miss Lydall. Although they were not sitting together, Thorn observed on more than one occasion the silent exchanges between the couple.

  “This is about Gideon,” his cousin said, eyes shadowed with concern. “I assume your conversation with your brother did not have a productive outcome.”

  Thorn scratched at his left eyebrow to conceal his annoyance. “He is avoiding me,” he confessed, unwilling to let even Chance see the depth of his hurt. “And he is up to something, and it involves Miss Lydall. Nothing good can come of it.”

  “So do something about it,” Chance encouraged.

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Speak with Miss Lydall,” the marquess said. Both gentlemen had noticed the lady had left the ballroom a few minutes earlier to avoid conversing with Lady Grisdale. “Perhaps she can give you the answers you seek about Gideon.”

  It did not sit well with him that his twin was sharing secrets with Miss Lydall. Thorn wondered what other mischief his brother was engaging in with the chit. “The lady is not fond of me.”

  “When have you not charmed a lady into revealing her—uh—secrets?” Chance asked, grinning at him. “It is obvious to me that Miss Lydall likes your brother well enough. Your handsome visage should soften her disposition.”

  “You are not helping, Chance.”

  “If the lady dislikes you, then approach her as Gideon,” the other man said carelessly.

  “You speak of a child’s game,” Thorn said, scoffing at the idea. “Gideon and I have not tried to fool anyone since we were boys.”

  “Is that what you tell your sweet mother?” Chance slapped him on the shoulder as he laughed heartily. “What a bouncer! I recall a particular spring fair where Gideon, Rainbault, St. Lyon, and I were besotted with a pretty redheaded wench. Christ, how old were we? Fifteen or sixteen?”

  Thorn’s lips quirked. “Too young to have any sense.”

  “Ah, so you do remember how Gideon panicked when the wench invited him to escort her about the fair.” Chance shook his head in dismay. “You would have thought he had learned a thing or two from St. Lyon and Rainbault when it came to handling females, but your brother turned an unflattering shade of green.”

  “You and the others had not set your sights on a shy innocent miss,” Thorn said, who had been flirting with a comely brunette when his brother and their friends had run off to chase after the redhead. By the time he had caught up to his companions, Chance, St. Lyon, and Rainbault had ganged up on his brother for politely rejecting the woman. “Gideon was unaccustomed to a brazen female.”

  “Neither were you,” his cousin said pointedly.

  No, he had not been, but after the brunette had not encouraged his advances, his pride needed a little soothing. If Gideon had coveted the redheaded wench, Thorn would not have been so eager to step into his brother’s shoes.

  “It would have been rude to abandon Miss Jacobs to the rogues and rascals attending the fair,” Thorn said, looking back on that afternoon with a degree of gratitude and fondness. “I was only doing my brotherly duty.”

  “Duty, my arse!” Chance punched Thorn’s upper arm. “We spent half the night searching for you when you disappeared from the fair.”

  “Miss Jacobs was five years older and she possessed knowledge of the carnal arts that left me in a befuddled state for weeks.” Thorn grinned when his cousin brought his hand to his face and groaned. “I didn’t forget to thank all of you properly, did I?”

  “No,” Chance replied, his hand falling to his side. “St. Lyon still occasionally grumbles about your good fortune. Oh, and let us not forget that bit of mischief with Lady Spicer.”

  “Ah, yes, Lady Spicer,” he drawled. “A delightful woman. She wasn’t even angry when she figured out there was two of us.”

  “You and Gideon never did tell us if you succeeded in bedding the young widow.”

  “A gentleman doesn’t speak his private affairs,” Thorn said, striving for a little dignity. Egad, his cousin was correct. He and Gideon switched places when it suited their purposes. Although they had vowed never to discuss the details with anyone, Lady Spicer had developed a taste for multiple lovers, and he and Gideon had shared the lady’s bed for several months. “Fine, you have proven your original point. Gideon and I did not leave our games behind in childhood.”

  “So let’s tell Gideon—”

  Thorn scowled at his cousin. “We tell Gideon nothing. In fact, I may need you and your wife to distract my brother while I speak with Miss Lydall.”

  Lady Fairlamb must have overheard part of Thorn’s statement as she strolled up to her husband’s side. With a quizzical look, she said, “I assume Lord Felstead taking charge of the fireworks isn’t adventurous enough for the two of you. What can I do to help?”

  * * *

  Lady Felstead would have accused her of hiding.

  Olivia silently disagreed as she strolled down the torch-lit gravel path that led to the marchioness’s Greek folly. Even after her humiliating stumble into the lake with the Netherwood twins, she had returned to the gathering in a borrowed dress that did not quite fit her while she ignored the disapproving g
lances Lady Grisdale cast in her direction. Later, when everyone had adjourned to the ballroom for supper, her father—much to his credit—laughed when she recounted to him her unexpected dunking in the lake. Gideon had been seated within earshot, so he had embellished the tale for their rapt audience until her father’s hand shook so much he spilled his wine.

  She had a few words for Gideon for his bit of mischief.

  The gentleman had a gift for storytelling. His additions had made the incident more humorous than embarrassing while casting her in a favorable light. When everyone at the table laughed, there was no malice or blame.

  Olivia wondered if Lord Kempthorn would have approved of his brother’s retelling?

  She had forgotten how exciting Malster Park could be when Lord and Lady Felstead’s sons were in residence. It was a pity occasions such as this were rare these days.

  Humming along to the song the orchestra was playing in the distance, she savored the coolness of the night air, the steady rhythm of her borrowed shoes on the gravel, and the earthy scents of the surrounding woodlands.

  Much to her relief, no one else had thought to walk to the folly. Olivia walked up the three steps and wrapped her arms around one of the marble columns. Keeping the palm of her hand against the cool surface, she circled around it and then moved to the next one. Most of Lady Felstead’s guests were too stuffed from their evening meal to wander farther than the lake, where the orchestra played on the large wooden platform while the servants prepared with the assistance of Lord Felstead to set off the fireworks. The trees obscured most of her view of the lake, but she could sit and enjoy the music and fireworks.

  Olivia was content to be alone. The quiet gave her time to gather her thoughts. She had had enough excitement for one day.

  A soft, almost musical whistle floated on the night’s air, the source coming from the shadowed path. The notes heralding the arrival of one of the other guests. Of someone who knew her habits.

  “Who is it?”

  The soft footfalls abruptly halted as if she had surprised someone by announcing her presence. The light from the nearby torches and the soft glow of the lanterns illuminating the folly prevented her from seeing too deeply into the shadows.