Once Upon an Earl_Heirs of High Society_A Regency Romance Book

by Eleanor Meyers

  He liked her, and Nash couldn’t say he liked many women. Desire had little to do with his wanting to spend time with her out of bed.

  He turned toward the door. He’d known she’d not wait for him, but was irritated to know he’d been right in his assumption. He walked down the hall and turned toward the door that would lead to his sister. He found his seat in the low lamps and, after sharing a smile with her, he looked around for Sam.

  He found her, and as if by his will alone, gained her gaze.

  Something passed between them in that moment, and a heaviness settled on Nash, but then she looked away, but not before he saw the emotions that crossed her features. Something was growing between him and the lady, but Nash, who’d known plenty of women, had no idea what.

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  8

  CHAPTER

  EIGHT

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  “That’s very good.”

  Sam jumped, dropping her pencil, and turned around, surprised at seeing Nash, and wondering for a moment if he were truly there. She’d been thinking about him for hours. From the moment he’d left the theatre two days prior, she’d done little more than recall everything she’d learned about him and needing to learn even more.

  She blinked and when his image didn’t waver, she knew him to be real. “What are you doing here?”

  They were at Lord Selby’s residence, which was where Lady Selby and Mr. Ogden lived. The countess and viscountess were in the sitting room with two other ladies, discussing an event for a charity Lady Selby was a part of. It had surprised Sam when Lady Brandell had volunteered to help, though Sam suspected the dowager simply wished to be at her friend’s side until Lord Selby could be found. Sam was in the back courtyard overlooking the gardens. It was quite early, as Lady Brandell was an early riser, and Sam’s mind worked best with the first brushes of dawn. She liked to see the sunshine’s brilliant hues played against the landscape.

  Her designs sat on the table with her pencils nearby, and it was the sheet on top that had caught Nash’s eye. He moved next to her, to stand with his great body leaning over the table.

  That dark male scent she’d discovered at their first encounter filled her lungs and made her feel dizzy. His eyes turned to her and his nearness made her hold her breath.

  “I should have known there was more to you when we went to the garden that first morning at Lord Brandell’s.”

  That drew her back to the present. “What do you mean?”

  He turned his entire body toward her. “You stared at the flowers as though you planned to consume them.”

  She blinked. “Consume?”

  He grinned. “Yes. As though they were the most precious thing in the world, and you wished to consume them, so that they’d never leave you. I’ve seen that look a few times at the orphanage, when someone picked up a newborn babe. Love.”

  She could easily see that happening. Who could resist a newborn?

  This, of course, she didn’t say aloud, because Nash and many other children had obviously been resisted, likely unloved enough to be given away. Sam knew that if she ever got the opportunity, she’d never give her child away.

  She was surprised he’d noticed her fixation on plants. She did love flowers. She hadn’t known it had been so obvious though. “The foxgloves. I planted those myself.”

  “Foxgloves?” He shook his head. “I’ve no idea what those are. Do you mean the tall ones that looked like trees, though instead of leaves they have dozens of petals? Those were the ones you were gazing at.”

  She smiled, not surprised he’d have no idea what a foxglove was. He was a man, after all, and likely hadn’t had a course on flowers while growing up in an orphanage. She didn’t think it a course at Oxford, either. She laughed at his description. “Yes. Those beautiful flowers are foxgloves.”

  “They were lovely. I’d never seen them arranged that way, like a wall, almost guiding a path toward the rest of the garden.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes widened. “That’s exactly it. Oh, I wish Lord Brandell had allowed me to the rest of the garden, but alas…” She allowed her words to fade, as she realized her excitement was growing.

  Nash stared at her oddly, mapping her face. She wondered what he was thinking about. Recalling their last meeting put a lump in her throat. Was he recalling the scene with the Duke of Brayton? She expected to be questioned about his implications.

  “Is that something you want to do? Design gardens?” he asked, instead.

  “I enjoy it,” she stated calmly.

  He grunted in a very ungentlemanly way, before he turned to look at her designs. “You more than enjoy it. It’s very clear that you love it, and it’s good that you do, because you’ve a very fine eye, my lady.”

  Her heart raced as she looked at her design for Lord Selby’s garden. She was moved by his compliment. She’d never received such praise before. The need to keep the conversation away from their meeting at the concert hall, and a more than a little vanity, made her ask, “Do you truly think so?”

  “Indeed.” He moved a sheet away and looked at the one underneath. The garden that was revealed belonged to no one. It was only in Samantha’s mind. There were no straight paths, but twists and turns with a more natural design than she’d seen in any garden, with ponds and small streams. Large rocks and small trees dotted the paradise, and at its center was a butterfly garden, a wild arrangement with abundant flowers. She didn’t think herself very good at drawing but had done her best.

  “You could make a great sum from this.” His fingers traced the design.

  She crossed her arms. “That’s not for sale. It’ll be my own garden one day.” She knew her father left her the funds for it, in any case. “Either way, I’m a lady. I can’t take money from anyone.”

  He glanced her way. “Well, it’s well-deserved.” His irises were brighter than the blue hues of the sunrise.

  She looked over the garden and said, “And boxing. You love what you do?”

  “I do.”

  She looked at him again. “And you’re good at it?”

  A maid came out and placed Sam’s tea, while setting down another cup. “Would you like something to eat, sir?” she asked Nash.

  Nash turned to Sam. “Have you broken your fast, as of yet?”

  She shook her head and turned to the maid. “We’ll take our meal here.”

  Nash held out her chair for her, and Sam settled into it before she moved her designs and pencils away, where they would be safe from the food.

  “I’ve been fighting since I was old enough to defend myself,” Nash told her, continuing their conversation. “But I don’t think I became very good, until Lord Iverstone took me under his wing.”

  She concentrated on the duke, so as not to think about a young Nash having to defend himself. “Iverstone must be very fond of you.”

  He nodded and took the cup she offered. Their fingers touched. His were bare once more, as were her own, since she’d been drawing. His hands were as calloused as she’d imagined they would be. The slide of his skin over hers sent sensations up her arms and she nearly dropped the cup.

  But Nash was quick for such a large man, catching it before the contents could spill.

  She stared at him for a breath, mesmerized. “I... suppose boxing is good for many things.”

  “Yes,” he readily agreed. “Like pummeling a duke, who offends a lady in my presence.” His expression became serious.

  She laughed and poured her own tea, knowing exactly who he spoke of. “If only one could.”

  “But I did hit him.”

  For a second time that morning, she nearly dropped her cup, but since she hadn’t lifted it far from the table, it hadn’t had much space to fall. She looked at him and reevaluated his expression. “Are you being serious? When was this?”

  “The moment I heard the door close behind you.” He set his mouth in a thin line.
“I don’t know what happened in your past, and I don’t care, but no man will speak to you that way while I’m around.”

  She was caught off guard by the confidence in his words, as though he’d be willing to sign a creed to their effect. She smiled. “Do you do this for all the ladies you know?”

  “No.” He lifted his cup to his lips, but his eyes remained on her. “Only those I count a friend.”

  Friend.

  She’d lost so many of those. She had Karl, of course, though she always had to guess at his words. There was also Jolan, who she could count a friend, and knew he’d not dispute it, because he rarely cared to dispute anything. Lady Brandell seemed to be growing used to the idea of having Sam around.

  She looked Nash over and decided he would be a very good friend to have about. Truly, who wouldn’t want a handsome, kind, and strong man for a friend?

  Though she wondered what he’d meant by ‘friend’. Some men thought it to include bedsport where a woman was concerned, but she didn’t see that in Nash. He hadn’t tried anything with her when they’d been alone in the garden, which was another reason she’d decided to have breakfast with him.

  “Tell me about boxing. The club,” she said.

  He sipped and said, “I could teach you, if you wish. Knowing how to hit a man seems a good thing for a woman to know, especially one as beautiful as you.” Again, his expression was serious.

  She warmed at the compliment and wondered if it were only clinical. Deciding to not read too far into the words, she said, “Perhaps another time.”

  He went on to describe the secret dwelling of the gentlemen’s sporting club. “Iverstone and his sons are all very good.” He was watching her intently. “Does my upbringing make you uncomfortable?”

  “No.” But then she paused and said, “I mean, really, you’re only here to help Lady Brandell, are you not?” Then she frowned. “Oh, I don’t believe you told me why you were here.” Though she remembered asking.

  He drank some tea and then set the cup on the table. “I came to speak to Lady Selby, actually, and plan to do so, once her guests have left. I spoke to Lord Selby’s friends again yesterday, trying to see if they had any details on the person Brayton had told me Lord Selby had gone to visit. They knew nothing. Do you have any suspicions that Lord Selby is simply enjoying himself somewhere, and only forgot to inform his family of his plans?”

  Sam shook her head. “No. That wouldn’t be Lord Selby’s way, and though I’ve only known him a short time, he seemed far too organized to have simply left without telling his mother where he’d gone.” And then there had been that awkward moment with Mr. Ogden this morning…

  “Brayton said you might know more about Selby,” Nash said, catching her off guard, his gaze watchful again. “I’ll not judge if you do.”

  Pain hit her chest, but she shook it off. “I’ve never slept with Lord Selby.” Or any man, but what was the point of saying it aloud? All that mattered was what the world thought. She was a lightskirt now, only good enough to keep a man’s company in bed. Never to be courted.

  She still recalled the way Selby ignored her. “He doesn’t even like me,” she said, at last.

  Nash didn’t seem to agree. “I don’t think it possible for a man to not like you.”

  She stood. “Then you don’t know Selby. He rarely met my eyes after he found out…”

  Nash’s arms came out as though he planned to touch her, but them immediately he pulled back. She may have not taken issue with his past, but he clearly took issue with hers. “Selby liked you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t know him. You can’t say that.”

  “But Brayton knew,” Nash said. “He said Selby thought to court you until he heard the rumors.”

  “Rumors.” She crossed her arms. “You say it as though you don’t believe them, yourself.”

  He remained where he stood, but was still close, especially when one counted the fact that he was tall, with the widest shoulders Sam had ever seen. “I don’t believe them.”

  “What do you know?” What had he heard? What had Brayton implied? She knew the truth had likely been stretched by now. That was the way gossip went.

  “Nothing,” he confessed. “I don’t need to hear them, to know they’re not true.”

  She lifted her brow. “You just asked me if I slept with Lord Selby.”

  He moved then and touched her arms, pulling her slightly closer. “Loving someone doesn’t make you a bad woman, and I know within my heart that you’ve a heart of gold.” His eyes were so warm, as they watched her with sweet sincerity.

  That sensation she’d felt earlier traveled from where his hands touched her arms. He leaned closer and time seemed to slow.

  Her breath came rushed. “I don’t love Lord Selby.”

  “That’s the best information I’ve gathered in days.” His breath brushed her lips, and then his mouth did.

  Her body was seized by the pleasure of it. He pressed closer and she opened for him.

  His arms went around her, and she felt sheltered in his strong hold. Underneath the taste of tea, she found his own flavor, and thought it the best thing she’d ever tasted.

  She’d thought he’d be rough, but the kiss was tender and sweet, soft, and pulling her mind from the present with each pass of his lips.

  Ringing footsteps made her jump away. A maid appeared either seconds too late, or minutes too early.

  Of that, Sam wasn’t sure.

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  9

  CHAPTER

  NINE

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  Nash was still reeling from the kiss, but now, with not only a maid, but a footman about to serve them, they’d be unable to talk about it.

  As though he knew what to say. Her cheeks were flushed, as was her mouth, from his bruising kiss.

  She avoided his eyes as she started to taste her food. Should he apologize later? He wouldn’t mean a word of it if he did. He wanted to dismiss the servants and speak to her again; but knew only she had the power to do that, and she was likely keeping them around to ward off anything he might wish to say. Yet he got his chance, when the housekeeper approached and said they were needed to attend the large group of ladies who had arrived.

  Sam spoke first. “Mr. Ogden said something very odd yesterday concerning Lord Selby.”

  He narrowed his eyes and thought to push the subject, but noticed the way her hands trembled and let it go. He’d wait. “What did Lady Selby’s cousin say?”

  She finished a bite of bread and licked her lips before saying, “He said his rooms were small, and that if Lord Selby didn’t return in a fortnight, he planned to move to the master’s bedchamber.” She frowned. “He’d been joking, I think. There’d been a bit of a laugh, but after that, I realized that if anything were to happen to Lord Selby, Mr. Ogden would become the next Lord Selby.”

  Nash stilled over his plate. “Do you think Mr. Ogden involved with Lord Selby’s disappearance?”

  She shook her head. Gold curls rubbed against her collar. “No. I mean, he has blue blood, after all. Surely, he couldn’t be that wicked.”

  Nash barked a laugh. “You live with the most wicked lord of all, or have you forgotten the rumor about Lord Brandell killing his brother and wife?” Never mind the deeds he did for Iverstone, and the sins he was sure the Duke of Avon had committed.

  Sam straightened her shoulders. “It’s only rumors, and I find I have a hard time believing them anymore.” She was alluding to her own situation. “The late Lady Brandell tripped as she was going down the stairs, and everyone says Lord Brandell was not present when it happened. As for the late Lord Brandell… No one is sure who shot him. A hunting accident, and again, Lord Brandell was quite saddened by his brother’s passing. I remember it myself. It happened at Oakmont.”

  This was the first time Nash had been told the story of his father’s passing. He’d
known the man had been shot, but not the circumstances. Had his brother really been distraught? Nash thought of his own at that moment. Often, he’d heard nothing from Reuben while he was away at war. Had he been told of his brother’s demise… The pain would be too much to bear, and though he was angry, Nash would never wish actual harm to Chris. He’d likely never trust his brother again, but that didn’t mean he wished for his death, and wouldn’t mourn him if he passed.