Waiting for an Earl Like You

by Alexandra Hawkins

  What else do you adore, Miss Lydall?

  They sipped their tea in silence. As the minutes passed, Thorn could see the tension seep out of her shoulders as she finished her biscuit. They watched the pedestrians who strolled by the window.

  “I cannot believe we just ran off,” Olivia said, shaking her head in disbelief. “The Duchess of Blackbern must have thought I was a clumsy ninny.”

  “You must have encountered the duchess once or twice over the years when her family stayed at Malster Park,” he drawled. “As the mother of six children, no doubt she has seen her fair share of broken porcelain, scattered beads, and spilled tea. One incident will not ruin her good opinion of you.”

  She was not cheered by his opinion. “If she ever had one.”

  It was rare for the duchess to utter an unflattering opinion about someone. However, there was something rather endearing about Miss Lydall when she sulked. “Are you so determined to find a reason to remain miserable?”

  “I suppose so,” she said as she picked up her teacup.

  A mischievous grin curved his mouth. “Of course, we could always go back to the dress shop.”

  “No,” she replied quickly, and then caught on that he was teasing her. “That was unkind of you.”

  Olivia Lydall smiled shyly at him, and Thorn felt the air leave his lungs. He often thought this particular smile was solely reserved for Gideon. It was demure with a hint of flirtation and affection. Thorn traced the rim of his teacup with his finger, pleased with his efforts to endear himself to the lady.

  This would be easier than he had thought.

  “Miss Lydall?”

  Thorn and Olivia turned their heads at the same moment. Olivia’s face brightened in recognition, while Thorn scowled.

  Olivia rushed to her feet and took several steps forward to greet Oliver Brant, Earl of Marcroft. He was known by his friends as Croft, but Thorn never forgot that he was Lord Norgrave’s son and heir. At five foot eleven, his wide shoulders and thick muscles roped around his arms gave him the appearance of a pugilist rather than a gentleman. His thick dark brown hair was shorter than what was deemed fashionable, and there was a coldness in his hazel eyes that intimidated the casual onlooker.

  However, his companion did not seem to notice. When she moved forward, Thorn instinctively wanted to draw her back.

  When had Olivia encountered Marcroft?

  “Lord Marcroft,” she said warmly, and lowered into a curtsy. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

  The earl clasped her hand gallantly and bowed. “Miss Lydall, how lovely you look this afternoon. Did you just arrive in Town?”

  “I have been here a week,” she said, pleased and slightly flustered by the other man’s compliment.

  “A week,” Lord Marcroft said, his thick dark eyebrows rising with surprise. “And this is the first time we meet?”

  The earl was deliberately ignoring Thorn’s presence, and if Marcroft’s intention was to annoy him, he had succeeded.

  “There was much to be done to prepare the town house for my father’s arrival,” she explained in apologetic tones.

  The way Marcroft’s eyes narrowed on her face made the back of Thorn’s neck itch. “Lord Dewick isn’t in Town?”

  “Business has delayed him. However, I expect him any day now,” she confided.

  Thorn ground his teeth. The little fool! He did not know what game Marcroft was playing with Miss Lydall, but did not believe the gentleman’s interest in the lady was genuine.

  Thorn moved forward and curled his fingers around Olivia’s upper arm. Her gaze shot up to his face in surprise. “Marcroft, I do not wish you to leave with the erroneous impression that Miss Lydall is without friends or protection,” Thorn said, deciding to put an end to their joyful reunion.

  The earl was more amused by Thorn’s defensive stance than worried. “Kempthorn,” he drawled. “I did not realize you and Miss Lydall were together.”

  “Oh, Lord Kempthorn and I are not together,” she said hastily, but at Thorn’s thunderous expression felt compelled to add, “not as a couple. Most definitely, not as a couple.”

  “I believe you have resoundingly made that clear to Marcroft,” Thorn growled in her ear.

  “I was shopping with Lady Felstead and—” Her cornflower blue eyes gleamed with excitement. “How could I forget to mention your sisters? They are with our party, too.”

  The earl seemed startled by the news. “Tempest and Arabella are here?” Marcroft asked, searching the tea shop for his younger siblings.

  “They are with Lady Felstead a few streets over in a little dress shop. If you hurry, I am certain you could catch up to them.” Olivia gave him a sympathetic look. “They would be overjoyed to see you.”

  “Perhaps I will,” Marcroft said, his expression shuttered for the first time since he had approached Olivia. “Are you rejoining them?”

  Thorn sensed Olivia’s discomfort and her reluctance to explain why she had separated from the other ladies. He subtly moved closer to her. “I am escorting Miss Lydall home, so you will have to find your sisters without the lady’s assistance.”

  “A pity,” Marcroft said, giving Thorn a speculative glance. “I look forward to speaking with you again, Miss Lydall.”

  “As do I,” Olivia sad quickly, finally noticing the tension between Thorn and Marcroft.

  The earl clasped her hand again and bowed. “I will make certain of it.” With a stern nod to Thorn, he turned away and headed back to his companions.

  “Shall we depart?” Thorn asked. “Or would you like more tea?”

  Olivia retrieved her reticule from the small table. “No, I am finished.”

  “Excellent.”

  Thorn felt some of the tension in his muscles ease at her light touch on his arm. Without glancing in Marcroft’s direction, he still felt the man’s piercing gaze on his back as he and Miss Lydall departed.

  * * *

  It was a lovely day for a drive. The blue sky was relatively free from clouds, but any pleasure Olivia could have derived from the pleasant weather was diminished by Lord Kempthorn’s gloomy disposition.

  “How are you acquainted with the Earl of Marcroft?”

  It was a question that Olivia had anticipated after she had observed the friction between the earls. A different lady might have assumed the two gentlemen were vying for her affection. However, knew she was not the kind of lady who inspired jealousy or duels.

  “We were introduced last spring,” she said, not understanding his interest.

  As their carriage passed several shops Olivia had been anticipating to visit, a lady crossed in front of her view and slipped into a small shop that belonged to a jeweler. A sense of familiarity tickled her senses. She had only glimpsed the woman from the back, but her clothing was the height of French fashion, reminding her of the Countess of Grisdale.

  Olivia craned her neck to get another look, but the lady was gone. Was the countess in Town? If so, it could mean her father was waiting for her at the town house.

  “I would decline all future invitations from that hostess,” he advised.

  “I beg your pardon?” Then she recalled they had been discussing Lord Marcroft and his influence on her good character. “Good heavens, why?”

  “No sensible creature would introduce a respectable young lady to Lord Marcroft.” He cast an unreadable look in her direction. “You are a ripe prize for such a scoundrel.”

  “Lord Kempthorn—”

  “Thorn,” he corrected automatically.

  “Thorn, there is no reason for you to be concerned. I have spoken to Lord Marcroft on several occasions and we have danced twice.” Noting his frown, she added, “And it was his sister, Lady Arabella, who introduced me to her brother. Are you telling me that a sister does not know her own brother’s heart?”

  The revelation did not seem to mollify him. “Sisters are devoted to their brothers. They are unable, nay, unwilling to see a man’s flaws, his dark nature.”


  “If I followed your advice, I would have to avoid most of the gentlemen in Town, and that includes you and your brother.”

  Thorn grunted. Olivia watched with fascination as the muscles contouring his jawline tightened. “You may be correct. Nevertheless it does not refute the truth that Marcroft cannot be trusted. If he approaches you again, I want to know about it.”

  “See here, Lord Kempthorn. I already have two older brothers, I do not require another. Not to mention, you are being unreasonable,” she protested. “Lord Marcroft—”

  “Would seduce and discard you without hesitation,” Thorn said succinctly. “As for your errant brothers…”

  Olivia knew the direction of Thorn’s thoughts and tried to cut him off. “Leave Adam and Joseph out of this. They are fighting for King and Country. You have no right to criticize them!”

  “Of course. It was unfair for me to judge them,” he said, her sudden outburst subduing his temper. He made an intelligible noise with his tongue. It was difficult to tell if the soothing sound was for her or for his horses. “Your brothers would be grateful that someone is looking after you in their absence.”

  “I do not need a keeper, Thorn.”

  A reluctant smile softened the harsh angles of his profile. “Aye, you do, but we will save that argument for another day.”

  The earl halted in front of her town house.

  “Give me moment to tend to the horses,” he ordered, his attention already directed to the task.

  Olivia waited with an air of impatience. Like everything else, the earl handled the carriage and the horses with the competence and ease of practice. She also noted affection for the animals. Although he had the privilege of being Lord Felstead’s heir, he was not a spoiled aristocrat as she often liked to believe. This was a man who did not mind getting his hands dirty when it was necessary.

  “Allow me,” he said, striding to her side of the carriage and holding out his hand.

  “Thank you,” she said politely as she stood to disembark.

  Lord Kempthorn had other plans. Instead of allowing her to step down, his hands encircled her waist and he lifted her. Her feet dangled briefly in the air, and Olivia had to place her hands on his shoulder. A flash of his teeth revealed that his actions had been deliberate.

  The rogue!

  Her feet touched the ground before she could utter a single coherent word.

  “I am fully capable of descending a carriage, my lord,” she said, twisting in his embrace. Her head came up, and their gazes locked when his hands lingered on her waist.

  “My way was more enjoyable,” he replied, releasing her waist but capturing her left wrist. Before she could reclaim it, he placed her gloved hand on the crook of his elbow. “I will escort you to the door, Miss Lydall.”

  Seeing no reason to argue with him on the street, she and Thorn strolled to the front door.

  “Thank you again for coming to my rescue this afternoon,” she said, her annoyance fading as she recalled the incident at the dress shop and his attempts to ease her humiliation.

  The dark green color of his eyes deepened as he studied her face. “My pleasure. Why do I get the distinct impression that you believe our association has come to an end?”

  “Has it not?” she countered. “In a day or so my father will arrive, and you and your family will be released from your promise to look after me.”

  “Have you forgotten that we are neighbors?”

  Thorn reached out and knocked at the door.

  How could I? “It makes little difference. We do not share the same interests or friends, so it is unlikely that we will see each other again.”

  “I disagree,” he managed to hold her in place with the enthralling intensity of his gaze. “When I called on you earlier, the front hall was filled with my family. You have strong ties with the Netherwoods. It would be foolish for you not to take advantage of them.”

  Olivia glared at him. “Is that what you believe I do? Use your sweet mother and your family for gain? How dare you!”

  Thorn winced at his misstep. “Miss Lydall—Olivia, I did not intend to—”

  The front door opened and the butler greeted them.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Lydall.” If he detected the animosity between Olivia and the earl, he was too polite to acknowledge it. “Will Lord Kempthorn be staying for tea?”

  “Good afternoon, Tink,” she said briskly, crossing the threshold and entering the front hall. “No, his lordship will not be staying.”

  “See here, Olivia,” Thorn said, following her into the hall. He spared the butler a glance. “You may return to your duties.”

  “You have no right to order my butler about. Remain where you are, Tink,” Olivia commanded. “I may require you to toss a certain arrogant earl out on his ear if he persists in behaving poorly.”

  The butler was twenty years older, and Thorn bested him in height and strength. The servant would need assistance if he thought he could get rid of him.

  “Damn it, will you stop fussing with your bonnet and give me a chance to apologize,” Thorn said, pursuing her to the other side of the hall. “I did not mean to imply that your friendship with my family was for personal gain and nothing more.”

  “Are you positive?” She untied the bow under her chin and removed her bonnet. Chestnut curls sprung free to frame her face. “You have often questioned my friendship with your twin. Perhaps I hope to influence Lady Felstead into lending her support as Gideon and I form a romantic attachment.”

  Lord Kempthorn froze. “You cannot deny that there are advantages in marrying my brother.”

  “Because he has returned to London supposedly rich as Croesus? You insult me as much as your brother.” She slapped her bonnet into his chest as she walked by him. “Tink, you will need some assistance with our unwelcome visitor. Two footmen should be enough for the task.”

  The butler glanced at the earl and nodded. “Very well, Miss Lydall. I will only be a minute.”

  “For god’s sake, Olivia!” he said, grabbing her and turning her around to face him. “Are you telling me that you are not attracted to my brother?”

  “Is that why you took Gideon’s place this afternoon?” Olivia became incensed at the thought. “Was this his idea or yours? Do you know what? I do not even care. I want you to leave or I will order the servants to throw you out.”

  “No one has ever thrown me out of a house!”

  Olivia sneered at him. “Of course, no one would dare touch a single hair on the noble head of Lord Kempthorn. Much admired by the ladies of the ton, and a coveted drawing-room visitor. Persist, and I will introduce you to a new and humbling experience.”

  “Outrageous little imp,” he said, torn between amusement and exasperation. “When was the last time your father took a leather strap to your backside?”

  “Never,” she spat. “My father is a decent man, a gentleman.”

  Olivia stuck her chin out.

  “Be forewarned. I am not.” Thorn grasped her chin before she could pull away and lowered his head. His lips covered hers, smothering her protest. It was a hard, punishing kiss that filled her with heat. Within seconds her entire body felt engulfed in flames.

  He abruptly dragged his mouth from hers. “I will see myself out.”

  Olivia touched her bruised mouth with her fingers as she watched the door shut behind the earl. She should have been appalled at Lord Kempthorn’s loutish behavior, but it was her response to his kiss that concerned her.

  She had accused Thorn of not being a gentleman. What kind of lady was she to be attracted to two men?

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Telling stories about me again?”

  Thorn tipped his head back so his valet could finish tying his cravat. “Why should I bother when you seem adept at spinning your own tales?”

  “Father sent one of the servant boys with a note. He seemed concerned that a business transaction had gone awry.” Gideon moved closer until Thorn could feel the heat of his body as
he stood behind him. “How very incompetent of me to allow myself to be swindled by a disreputable ship’s captain.”

  His valet tugged on the knot at Thorn’s throat, causing him to grimace. “Mother must have mentioned it to Father. What did you tell him?”

  “What do you think?” Gideon leaned against one of the bedposts and crossed his arms. “I told him that there was some confusion with the paperwork, but I was able to straighten everything out. “

  So Gideon had covered for him. It pleased Thorn more than he was prepared to admit, even to himself.

  The valet stepped back and picked up a rectangular handheld mirror with a silver frame. He presented it to Thorn so he could admire the servant’s efforts for the knot. “Excellent, Mr. Zouche. Nicely done as always. You may leave us and retire for the evening.”

  “Very good, milord,” the man murmured, turning away to return the mirror to its proper place. His swift movements as he cleaned up indicated that he preferred to leave before the conversation between him and his brother degenerated into an argument. When he was finished, he bowed to the gentlemen. “I bid you a good evening, Lord Kempthorn … Mr. Netherwood.”

  Thorn faced his brother, who was still leaning against the bedpost. “Are we fighting?”

  Gideon straightened from his slouched position and let his arms drop to his sides. “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Why did you lie to our mother?” his brother demanded.

  Like Thorn, he had dressed for the evening. Both men wore black evening suits, but Gideon had selected a wine-and-blue-striped waistcoat with his cravat fashioned into a barrel knot. Thorn wore an ivory brocade waistcoat. Gideon had styled his hair like Thorn’s. He could have walked into a ballroom and fooled everyone into thinking he was Lord Felstead’s heir.

  “I confess I have wasted a few hours pondering the reasons for the deception.”

  “Forgive me, brother,” Thorn said. He walked to the dressing table and opened a small jeweler’s case. He removed his signet ring and slipped it on his finger. “When I encountered the marchioness, I had no idea that she would be so concerned with my white lie about your whereabouts that she would tell our father.”