Romancing the Earl

by Darcy Burke

He found the mystery surrounding the hidden tapestry and possibly his brother’s death considerably more engaging. He thought of little else beyond all of his unanswered questions. And of Miss Bowen. He thought of her far too much.

  The trip was brief, and soon they were passing a newly repaired gatehouse as they drove up the lane. Bassett Manor rose before him, the early evening midsummer sun shining upon the mullioned windows, casting the house in a warm, inviting glow. The impressive façade was equal parts medieval castle, Tudor hall, and Restoration manor. It was a bit convoluted in design—it looked as though it had been enlarged several times—but it held far more character than Cosgrove.

  He exited the landau without waiting for the coachman’s assistance, something his retainers were learning to accept, and made his way to the front door. A footman opened it and held it wide as Elijah stepped into the massive foyer. Soaring three stories, the space seemed cavernous, likely because it wasn’t stocked to the brim with stuff. In fact, it was rather austere, with a simple, thick carpet covering the stone tiles. Large rooms opened off the hall, and a wide, grand staircase ascended the far wall.

  Another footman approached. “This way, my lord.” He led Elijah to the room at the right side of the foyer. Like the entry, this room was huge, with exposed, arching beams. Despite its size, it felt comfortable, as though people actually lived here. Elijah realized just then that he resided in a museum, not a house. He couldn’t wait to get rid of the antiquities cluttering it up.

  He immediately recognized Miss Bowen and his hosts, Mr. and Lady Foxcroft. There were four other occupants—two couples—but he didn’t know them.

  Mr. Foxcroft came forward with a welcoming smile. “Good evening, Lord Norris. It’s our pleasure to have you in our home this evening.”

  Lady Miranda joined him. “Indeed. I’m so glad you accepted our invitation. Allow me to introduce our guest, Miss Catriona Bowen.”

  Though they’d already met, it hadn’t been a formal introduction—that much Elijah recalled from his brief time in English Society—and it had also been secret, at her request. Miss Bowen inclined her head and dipped a brief curtsey. “Good evening, my lord.”

  Lady Miranda gestured toward a settee where a red-haired woman, her belly rounded with child, perched. The man standing next to her carried an air of authority that Elijah recognized. Had he also been in the military? “And this is my brother, Lord Saxton, and his wife, Lady Olivia. They are visiting on their way to Saxton’s home in Yorkshire.”

  Saxton stepped forward and offered his hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Elijah shook his hand, appreciating the man’s direct stare. “As am I.”

  “Finally, this is my steward, Rob Knott, and his wife, Felicity,” Foxcroft said.

  Knott, a muscular fellow, came forward and offered his hand with a firm grip. “Glad to see Cosgrove inhabited again. Sorry about your brother.”

  His wife nodded with a warm smile. “Indeed. Lord Norris—that is, your brother—was a charming fellow. I met him on a few occasions.”

  She had? Had all of them? Perhaps the Foxcrofts had hosted a similar dinner party for Matthew. “I’m a bit surprised,” Elijah mused. “I would’ve expected Matthew to spend most of his time in London.” He preferred to be where he could engage in the most debauchery.

  “He did,” Lady Miranda said. “However, he also enjoyed his time in Wootton Bassett. He hosted a few, ah, gentlemanly parties. And, of course, we entertained with him here.”

  Elijah imagined Matthew enjoyed socializing with the daughter of one of the most powerful dukes in the realm. “I hope you found him well-behaved.”

  Lady Miranda’s blond brows drew together briefly until she realized he was joking. She smiled, which only enhanced her classic English beauty. “Compared to the prior Lord Norris, he was positively perfect.”

  “Ah yes, but then the previous earl was a criminal, wasn’t he?” Elijah said.

  “Indeed he was,” Foxcroft said darkly.

  “Fox was a criminal too,” Lady Miranda said with a grin. “Two years ago, the orphanage was in such dire straits that he had to resort to highway robbery. That’s how we met.” She beamed at him and curled her hand possessively over his arm.

  Elijah blinked, looking between them. He couldn’t begin to think of how to respond.

  Knott laughed and shook his head, defusing any tension that Lady Miranda’s declaration had aroused. Miss Bowen took that moment to move toward Elijah. “I’m glad you came tonight,” she said softly.

  He looked down at her and tried not to notice how lovely she looked with her ebony hair swept into an artful style, an intriguing silver pendant gracing her slender neck and dragging his gaze lower. He snapped his attention to her face, which was as alluring as the rest of her, with her pert but lush lips and too-strong chin. “Why, so you can interrogate me further?” He arched a brow to indicate he was teasing—though it probably wasn’t too far off her intentions.

  Her gaze lingered on his. “Perhaps.”

  A footman announced dinner, and Foxcroft led them from the great hall. The couples paired off, leaving Elijah to guide Miss Bowen. “I suppose I have you to thank for tonight’s invitation.”

  She tucked her arm over his. “Why would you think that? Miranda loves to entertain, and as the social leader of the district, she feels it’s her duty to welcome you.”

  “I see.” And he did. Lady Miranda surely would’ve invited him sooner or later, but Elijah was certain that Miss Bowen had ensured it was the former. “How long will you be staying with the Foxcrofts?”

  “I suppose that’s up to you.” She flashed him a beguiling smile as they entered the dining room.

  Elijah managed to pull his attention from his captivating companion and take in his surroundings. Obviously from the same era of the house as the great hall, the dining room boasted a massive fireplace, whose wood mantel was decorated with carved deer, foxes, and other woodland creatures. The table was impeccably set with crystal and fine bone china. Elijah briefly wondered if he’d ever host such an occasion at Cosgrove, and found he couldn’t imagine it.

  Lady Miranda took her chair at the head of the table, opposite her husband at the other end. “Lord Norris, you’re over here by me.” He vaguely recalled how formal seating arrangements worked. “And Cate, you’re next to Lord Norris.”

  Elijah guided Miss Bowen to her indicated seat. “I take it you also arranged to be seated beside me?” he murmured.

  She looked at him over her shoulder. “You’re a suspicious fellow, aren’t you?”

  “Suspicious and infuriating. It’s a wonder you speak to me at all, given your lofty opinion of me.”

  She laughed softly and her eyes sparkled with mirth. Yes, captivating.

  Elijah took his seat and wine was poured. “Pardon me for raising this subject again, Foxcroft, but are there any reparations that need to be made for the prior earl’s crimes?”

  Foxcroft shook his head. “No. Repayments were made and may have been what sent Norris into the apoplexy that caused his death. And please, call me Fox. Everyone does.” He sipped his wine. “I know he was your relative, but I can’t apologize for my lack of remorse. He was a thoroughly reprehensible man.”

  Elijah now recalled the ledger entries detailing the money that had fled the coffers two and a half years ago—those had been the repayments. And they’d started his brother at a bit of a disadvantage. If he’d been paying attention to the accounts, which Elijah doubted. But pair that with Matthew’s extravagant expenses and it was no wonder the earldom was in financial disarray. However, selling off the ridiculous antiquities collection should repair matters. Add a valuable treasure into the mix, and Elijah could see turning the situation around completely and bringing a new level of honor to both the title and the estate.

  He contemplated Miss Bowen briefly as the first course was served. Could he find this treasure without her? Since he didn’t particularly want to share it, he supposed he’d hav
e to try. Wait, he wanted to find it?

  “Did you determine where your brother hid the tapestry?” she asked. Conversation had sprung up all around the table and no one heard her question but Elijah.

  “You assume I even looked into the matter.”

  She paused in lifting a spoon to her mouth. “Never say you didn’t, for I shan’t believe you.”

  He resisted the urge to smile at her cleverness. “No, I haven’t found it yet.”

  “But surely you have a notion as to where it might be?”

  Not that he planned to disclose. He liked Miss Bowen—he did?—but he didn’t yet trust her. Trust was something he gave sparingly. “Miss Bowen, I realize you desire to purchase the tapestry, but for now, I’m not interested in selling it. Which is entirely moot since I’ve no idea where it is.”

  She leaned toward him. “You must have some idea. If you just think about—”

  “Whether I think about it or not, find it or not, is none of your concern.” He enjoyed the pretty flush that rose in her cheeks, but he wasn’t purposefully trying to aggravate her. He simply wanted to be honest and forthright about his intentions and as of now, he had no reason to include her in any of his plans.

  She pulled back and scowled at him. “Is it too late to add stubbornness to your list of attributes?”

  Norris’s warm laughter rankled Cate even further. She considered accidentally spilling her soup bowl in his lap, but that would likely send him directly home, and she wasn’t finished with him yet. He joined the conversation about improvements to the orphanage that Fox owned and she was content—for now—to simply watch him interact with the others.

  He was annoyingly confident and intelligent, with a hint of dry wit. How was she going to persuade him to help her? She was pleased to learn that he’d at least considered the tapestry. That was better than him doing nothing. Presumably, he would find it, and she’d be watching. She’d talk to Grey and they’d come up with a plan to get the tapestry, one way or another.

  As the final course wound down, Miranda glanced around the table. “Do you gentleman want to stay here for brandy or shall we all adjourn to the hall?”

  The men exchanged looks and gentle shrugs. “Let’s all go to the hall,” Fox said. “Young Albert from the orphanage has consented to play the pianoforte for us this evening if anyone would care to dance.”

  Cate looked over at Norris, who slid her a curious glance. Did he think she’d organized that too?

  “I had nothing to do with the entertainment,” she whispered.

  He stood and helped her from her chair, then offered his arm. “I didn’t say you did.”

  “You were thinking it plenty loud enough.”

  “I wasn’t, actually.” He led her from the dining room, following the other couples. “I was merely trying to determine if I recalled how to dance. It’s been an age. And since we seem to have been paired off this evening, it occurred to me that I should partner you.”

  She blinked up at him. “There was no dancing in Australia?”

  “Very little. There weren’t many social occasions.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “What did you do for entertainment?”

  “I read, though finding books was sometimes a challenge. I rode my horse and explored the area.”

  “Did you bring your horse back with you?”

  “No.” Was there a touch of regret to his tone? She rather thought so, but didn’t remark upon it. “Just my batman, who is now my valet.”

  They strolled into the great hall where Fox was pouring brandy for the gentlemen and Miranda was giving directions to the boy at the pianoforte. “Reading and riding? That sounds a bit dull. You had no other pursuits—a hobby, perhaps?”

  “A hobby?” Something flickered over his features. “I was quite busy leading a regiment, Miss Bowen.”

  She withdrew her arm from his. “I saw something there. You’re a secretive gentleman, are you not?”

  “I might say guarded.” He gazed down at her, his blue-gray eyes probing. “Adding to my traits again?”

  “Oh, I’m not adding to them. I’m identifying them.” She ticked off her fingers. “Infuriating, suspicious, stubborn, secretive—sorry, guarded.”

  He blinked at her in mock affront. “Have I no features to recommend me?”

  “I’ll let you know after the dance.”

  Albert started to play a country dance and they formed a square. With Lady Olivia, who wasn’t particularly spry given her pregnancy, and Norris, who was clearly out of practice, it wasn’t the most accurate of endeavors, but it was terribly fun. By the end, they were all flushed and laughing, even Lord Norris. Then Albert started a waltz. Everyone paired off, save Cate and Norris. He offered a courtly bow and she curtseyed in formal response.

  His hand clasped her waist and he swept her into the dance. “I’ll try not to step on your toes.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be quite adept.”

  He arched a blond brow and gave her the skeptical stare she was coming to expect from him. Suspicious indeed. “You saw me during that cotillion, did you not?”

  She chuckled. He’d made a few missteps, but overall appeared a good dancer, particularly for someone who hadn’t done it in a long while. “The waltz moves much slower.” She looked up at him in alarm. “Goodness, do you even know how to waltz? You were on the other side of the world when it came to England.”

  Given how he’d taken her into his embrace and now steered her through the steps, he clearly did. “Just as books came to us on ships, so did new dances and clothing and other items and activities from home.”

  “So you did dance?”

  “I never said I didn’t. It’s just been a long time. I left Australia last September.” His fingers dug lightly, pleasurably, into her waist as he turned her.

  A tremor rippled through her, but she refused to consider the possibility that it was because of him. “That must be a harrowing journey. And you’ve done it twice.”

  “I don’t know that it’s harrowing, but it’s certainly boring.”

  She gave him a knowing look. “You see, you should have had a hobby.”

  His lip lifted in a half-smile. “Such as searching for antiquities?”

  She didn’t think he meant his comment as an affront, and didn’t take it that way. But she wanted him to understand what most people didn’t—that she was passionate about being an antiquary and considered it an occupation. “It’s more than a hobby to me. I have an affinity for all manner of artifacts. I like to hold an object and imagine the care and skill that went into crafting it. Such as my necklace.”

  His gaze dipped to her pendant. “What is it?”

  “A silver piece from a trove that was found in Somerset a few years ago. It’s from the ninth or tenth century, based on its design and the items found with it.”

  “You knew that just by looking at it?” He sounded genuinely interested, unlike most gentlemen she met.

  “Somewhat, but that’s after years of reading books and papers, viewing antiquities, and discussing such topics with other antiquaries. Well, those who will talk to me,” she added without bothering to hide her derision.

  He twirled her expertly, and she decided he wasn’t as rusty at dancing as he’d said. Or at least, he was better at waltzing. “Why won’t they talk to you?” he asked. “Do you pester them as you do me?”

  “No, I do not.” They’d fallen into a pattern of teasing each other, and she enjoyed it more than she probably ought. “They don’t talk to me because I’m female. Some antiquaries think I have no business nosing about in their interests.”

  “I admit I find your—vocation . . . is that an appropriate word?—surprising. Most women of your station would be married by now and managing their own households.”

  She couldn’t tell what he thought of that. Most men were disdainful of her work. “I can’t think of anything more tedious than managing a household.”

  “Now, that is an opinion we share. Doe
s that mean you have no interest in Society?”

  “I haven’t even had a Season.” She hadn’t wanted one, and her parents hadn’t encouraged it. Her mother and father had found each other in an unconventional fashion and fallen deeply in love. In their experience, a Season wasn’t only unnecessary, it was perhaps a hindrance to truly finding your love match if you weren’t interested in adhering to Society’s rules. Which her family was not. They were scholars, explorers, antiquaries.

  “Fascinating,” he said softly, perhaps even admiringly.

  The music drew to a close and he brought her to a halt. His hand dropped from her waist and she reluctantly removed her hand from his shoulder. Reluctantly?

  Miranda clapped, thankfully drawing Cate’s attention from Norris. “Thank you so much, Albert,” Miranda said. “Wasn’t he wonderful, everyone?”

  Others joined her applause and Albert stood, blushing. He bowed smartly before departing.

  “There are some refreshments here if you’re inclined.” Miranda gestured to the sideboard, where Fox had poured out brandy earlier. There was also sherry for the ladies.

  “Would you like anything?” Norris asked politely.

  “A glass of sherry wouldn’t come amiss,” she said.

  He took himself to the sideboard to fetch their beverages, and Cate moved to the side of the room, to a pair of chairs. She didn’t intend to sit, just to move out of the center of the hall.

  Miranda sidled up beside her. “Lord Norris seems interested in you.”

  Cate watched the earl talk with Fox at the sideboard as their host poured the drinks. “He doesn’t either. We’re just the only two unmatched people here.”

  Miranda exhaled. “That’s true. I’m afraid I’m a hopeless matchmaker.”

  Cate patted the back of her hair, unused to wearing it in such an intricate style. She typically wore it in a simple knot or, on occasion, even loose. “As I’ve told you before, I don’t need a match.”

  “So you say, but trust me when I tell you that you’re missing out on one of life’s best pleasures.”

  Cate wasn’t sure exactly which pleasures she referred to and didn’t want to ask, lest it invite questions as to why an unmarried miss like her was versed in such matters. Instead, she steered the conversation in a more seemly direction. “Marriage, you mean?”