The Earl Who Loved Her
The Honorable Scoundrels
Sophie Barnes
Contents
Also by Sophie Barnes
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books In This Series
Copyright © 2017 by Sophie Barnes
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design and Interior Formatting by The Killion Group, Inc.
www.thekilliongroupinc.com
Created with Vellum
Also by Sophie Barnes
Novels
A Most Unlikely Duke
His Scandalous Kiss
The Earl’s Complete Surrender
Lady Sarah’s Sinful Desires
The Danger in Tempting an Earl
The Scandal in Kissing an Heir
The Trouble with Being a Duke
The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda
There’s Something About Lady Mary
Lady Alexandra’s Excellent Adventure
How Miss Rutherford Got Her Groove Back
Novellas
The Earl Who Loved Her
The Governess Who Captured His Heart
Mistletoe Magic (from Five Golden Rings: A Christmas Collection)
1
The days were getting colder. Eve could feel it in her bones. Glancing toward the empty fireplace, she addressed her sister, Josephine. “Are you sure you want me to go?”
“Yes.” The word was spoken without the slightest hesitation. “Going to Amberly Hall to visit with your friend Margaret is a wonderful opportunity for you, Eve – one you mustn’t pass up.”
“You didn’t mention my going there to Louise before she left,” Eve said in reference to their other sister, who was four years older than Eve and two years younger than Josephine. She’d left the day before, after being offered a position as governess in the northern part of the country.
“I worried she would postpone travelling or decide not to go at all if she knew. She didn’t like the idea of leaving us alone for Christmas, but she took some solace in knowing we would at least have each other.”
“Except now you will be by yourself in this miserable house.”
Josephine gave her a sharp look. “We are fortunate to have a house at all. Things could be worse.”
Knowing how true that was and how hard Josephine had worked to keep a roof over their heads, Eve apologized for the comment and said, “Perhaps we should let our guardian know about our difficulties.”
“No! Absolutely not, Eve. We have managed to get by without relying on any man this past year since Papa died, and we shall continue to do so. Because to take money from a stranger…”
“He is our uncle.”
“And yet we have never made his acquaintance.” Josephine shook her head. “It wouldn’t be right to ask for his help, and I would hate to feel beholden.”
“Very well. We will find another way.”
“It will be easier now after Louise has found employment.”
Eve was well aware. She wished there were more she could do so she could stop feeling guilty about her sisters working while she did nothing besides look pretty. But Josephine wouldn’t even let her sweep the floors. Hoping to provide Eve with the season she and Louise had been denied, Josephine insisted Eve should not show any signs of work, which meant her hands had to be kept smooth and unblemished.
Eve picked up her tea and took a sip, wincing in response to the tepid water as it slid down her throat. She drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “There is no guarantee my going to Amberly Hall will benefit us in any way.”
“No, but it is more likely to do so than your staying here would.” Pressing her lips together, Josephine turned a fierce pair of eyes on her. “Margaret’s family is well connected. You are lucky she still remembers you, now our positions are no longer what they once were.”
“We’ve known each other since childhood, Josephine. It would have been cruel of her not to do so.”
Josephine sighed. “No, dearest. It would have been expected. But her kindness and consideration–the fact she has invited you to stay with her for the holidays–does speak highly of her character.”
“Perhaps I should ask her if you might join me.”
“Absolutely not,” Josephine said. “To do so would be taking advantage, which is something I refuse to do. Besides, I have my work here. It does not pause for the holidays. So you will go to Amberly alone and enjoy yourself with your friend. I will be perfectly content here, Eve. My only concern is for you travelling alone.”
“The distance isn’t too great. There are no overnight stays along the way, and I’m sure other travelers will be joining me. So I won’t be without company.”
“I suppose that is true.”
But in spite of the smile Josephine gave her the following day when Eve stepped onto the stagecoach, Eve sensed her sister was doing her best to put on a brave face for her sake. It was the first time they would be apart for more than a day.
Squeezed into a spot by the window with three other passengers beside her on the bench and four more across, Eve caught a final glimpse of Josephine as the carriage lurched into motion.
“Write to me when you get there!” Josephine called.
A quick nod was all Eve could manage before the conveyance turned right, carrying her through a series of streets and out toward the Great Western Road that would take her to Bournemouth. If all went well, she ought to be there by late afternoon, in time to enjoy a cup of tea with Margaret before preparing for dinner.
The carriage charged ahead, stopping every hour to change its team of horses. Sleep proved impossible with every bump in the road jostling her until her bottom got sore. Her comfort did get somewhat better as other passengers arrived at their destinations, allowing for a bit more room inside the cabin.
“Amberly Hall,” the coachman finally called, pulling the carriage to a halt at around four o’clock. Darkness was already setting in, encouraged by the thick clouds blocking the sun. Eve climbed down and retrieved her bag from the top of the coach. Gripping it in her hand, she watched the coach lurch into motion once more and disappear down the road.
Right.
She glanced about. Margaret had said she would send a carriage to collect her, but the coach had made good time, so she’d arrived a half hour earlier than expected. With the wind picking up and the light growing dimmer by the second, she elected to start walking toward the lights she could see in the distance. Perhaps she would meet the carriage on her way. One thing was certain, however, and that was the fact she might freeze to death if she stood still for one more second.
Bryce Elliot Harlowe, Earl of Ravenworth, was preparing to enjoy the brandy he’d poured when a knock at the door brought his butler into the library. “My Lord,” Radcliff said, “a woman has arrived.”
“Does she have a name?” Bryce asked. He glanced across at his favorite chair. Enjoying a peaceful moment of reading by the fire would clearly have to wait.
“Miss Potter. She says she is here to see Mrs. Havisham.”
“Then she must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.” The Havisham home was six miles in the opposite direction.
“ I wish to k
now if I might offer her the use of your carriage. It is almost dark outside, you see, and it has started to snow. Sending a young woman back out without escort would not sit well with me.”
Bryce had to agree. It wouldn’t be right to send any woman away again under such circumstances, no matter her age. “Have Peter make the necessary preparations, and in the meantime, please ask Miss Potter to join me.” He received few visitors these days and was starting to grow weary of his isolation.
“Very well, my lord.” Radcliff left, returning moments later with a woman who stood encased in a long black pelisse. She wore a floppy bonnet which dipped across her forehead, concealing her eyes. Several shawls were wrapped tightly across her shoulders and chest. “May I present Miss Potter?”
The woman attempted a curtsy even as she shivered, which prompted Bryce to step forward quickly and guide her toward the fireplace. Once there, he took a step back and sketched a short bow. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Potter. I am the Earl of Ravenworth.”
She tipped her chin up, her surprise unmistakable. It encompassed her entire face. But what caught his attention the most were her dark blue eyes. They left him completely dazed. Radcliff coughed, pulling Bryce out of his trance and enabling him to gather his wits. He turned toward his butler. “Please arrange for some tea and sandwiches to be brought up and—”
Miss Potter sneezed and then she sneezed again. And a third time.
“Oh dear,” she murmured as she took a step closer to the fire.
Oh dear, indeed.
Bryce gave her an assessing look before addressing Radcliff once more. “I believe we should get her out of her wet pelisse and hang it to dry in the kitchen next to the stove. The same goes for her shawls.”
“Yes, my lord.” Radcliff, being the practical, no-nonsense man he was, crossed to where Miss Potter was standing and held out his hand. “If you’ll please give me your outerwear, miss.”
Miss Potter hesitated. She glanced at Bryce, who gave her a reassuring nod. “We would hate for you to catch a cold,” he said. “Such a thing could very well ruin your Christmas.”
That seemed to get her cooperation. Her fingers quickly untied her shawls and peeled them away before going to work on the buttons of her pelisse. This garment came off too, revealing an equally black dress. But not without hinting at a slender yet curvaceous form. Beneath the other layers of clothing, her breasts had been undefined and unremarkable. Now, their rounded curves stood out, drawing Bryce’s attention in a way that made him wish she would keep on undressing.
Of course she didn’t. But she did take off her bonnet as well, exposing a pile of blonde curls that appeared to have been twisted and pinned down by force. It made him wonder what her hair might look like if it were set free – allowed to fall down over her shoulders and…
He swallowed and turned away, grabbing his glass and tossing back his brandy before swinging around to face Radcliff. “That will be all for now.”
The butler hesitated, gave a curt nod, and took his leave without closing the door as he usually did. The gesture was not lost on Bryce, reminding him that Miss Potter, whatever her station, was a young, most likely unmarried, woman. Being alone with her behind closed doors would not be appropriate, even if it meant losing heat from the room.
Sighing, he considered the figure she presented, standing there warming her hands, and he found his attention drawn by the shape of her neck. It curved so delicately, joining with her shoulders before disappearing beneath her gown. A few stray strands of hair curled against it, and for reasons unknown, his fingers itched to draw them back into place.
Wincing, he stepped toward her. “Would you like to sit?” he asked, indicating the armchair closest to the fire.
“Thank you.” She turned and lowered herself to the seat, then focused her captivating eyes on him. “I am sorry to intrude upon you like this, my lord.”
Bryce’s muscles flexed. The way she said, my lord… Damn, but he could too easily imagine her addressing him so in a far more intimate setting, a setting in which fewer clothes would be required.
“You needn’t be,” he managed to say while he claimed the other chair. His voice sounded rougher than he would have liked.
“It is kind of you to offer your carriage, give me tea and sandwiches, and allow me to warm myself by your fire.” She averted her gaze. “You did not have to.”
“No. I don’t suppose I did,” he agreed. “But turning you away would not have been right.”
This brought her eyes back to his with aching vulnerability. “Do you always do what is right?”
“I try to. Yes.” Though you might tempt me to toss that principle straight out the window. It was a good thing she wouldn’t be staying long. He’d not had a woman in quite some time, and with Miss Potter’s arrival, he was starting to recognize the strain of it.
“That is admirable,” she said, and he could see she meant it, which in turn made his chest tighten around his expanding heart.
A maid arrived with a tray, setting it down on a small table before departing the room once more. Bryce watched Miss Potter fill two cups with tea. “Milk and sugar?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No thank you.”
She poured a splash of milk into her own, picked up the cup, and set the rim to her lips. Her eyes had initially distracted him from this particular attribute, but he took greater notice now. And as he did so–as he watched that soft piece of flesh press against the delicate china–arousal took hold. Never in his life would he have imagined the simple task of drinking tea could look so bloody erotic, yet Miss Potter, dressed in her modest black gown, managed to make it so.
Crossing his legs, he deliberately strove to hide the effect her arrival was starting to have on him. Clearly, he’d put off procuring a mistress for far too long. Tomorrow, he’d set his mind to it.
First thing in the morning.
In the meantime, however, “I understand from my butler you were trying to reach Amberly Hall?”
“Yes. Mrs. Havisham is a longtime friend of mine. She invited me to visit with her and her husband for the holidays.”
“And when you are not in this part of the country, you are in…”
“London,” she said, finishing his sentence. “I live there with my older sister.”
“What about your parents?”
She gave a small shrug as if to diminish the importance of her next words. “Papa died last year, three years after we lost Mama.”
Bryce frowned. “I am sorry to hear it.” And he was. He knew all too well how hard it could be to lose a loved one.
“At least my sisters and I have each other.”
“So there is more than one?”
“Yes. But Louise no longer lives with us. She has recently accepted the position of governess for the Earl and Countess of Channing’s children. In fact, she left for the north of England yesterday.”
So Miss Potter was working class. He’d suspected as much, considering her attire, but he hadn’t been sure because of her friendship with Mrs. Havisham. He was curious to know what the older sister she’d mentioned did for a living and what she herself planned on doing, but couldn’t quite think of how to ask without imposing.
As it turned out, he didn’t have to. She revealed the answer by saying, “Josephine, my oldest sister, is an accountant at the Park View hotel in London. Her earnings are enough for all of us to get by on, but since she would like to give me a Season, she…” Miss Potter drew a deep breath. “Forgive me. I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.” She made a nervous chuckling sound and reached for a sandwich, filling her mouth with the bread, ham, and cheese.
“That’s quite all right. I was interested, so you needn’t apologize.” But the mention of a Season… Perhaps he’d been wrong about her being working class. “In fact, I must confess you have managed to heighten my curiosity.”
“Really?” A few fine breadcrumbs spilled into her lap, and she hastily set abou
t trying to gather them up and discard them on her plate.
“What is your family’s background, if you don’t mind my asking?”
She went completely still, and he wondered if she might give him a set down for such an imposing question. They were strangers after all. He really had no right to pry. And doing so was doubly wrong in light of what he knew about her deceased parents and working sisters. So much for her impression of him doing the right thing.
“My great grandfather was an earl,” she eventually said. “His third son, my grandfather, went into law and opened a successful business. Unfortunately, Papa did not have the same legal acumen, and when Mama died, he gave up on making the effort. Money was lost in an effort to maintain a lifestyle we couldn’t afford, assets were sold, and my sisters were denied the Seasons they’d always expected to enjoy, until work became their only option.” She dropped her gaze, but not before Bryce was able to notice the sheen of moisture gathering against her lashes. “Josephine and Louise have made so many sacrifices for me. I have to get to Amberly, if only to make the connections I am sure to make with Mrs. Havisham’s help.”
“Of course.” So she was gentry, and if her sisters had anything to say about it, she would remain so, even if they had to join the working class. Understanding the guilt and responsibility she probably felt, he chose to turn their conversation toward a more positive subject. “The annual Christmas dance will be hosted at the assembly hall this Saturday. I’m sure the Havishams will take you.”
“Oh.” Miss Potter’s face brightened. “That would be diverting. I’ve never attended such an event before.” She gave him an uncertain look before asking, “Will you be there too?”
He almost laughed at the absurdity of such a question but managed to maintain his composure. “No. I prefer to keep to myself.”
“Why?” She slapped her hand over her mouth, eyes widening with chagrin as she hastily apologized for asking.
The Earl Who Loved Her (The Honorable Scoundrels Book 2) Page 1
