Does The Earl Love Me

by Jasmine Ashford

  They walked on into the forest, and eventually reached a clearing. Surrounded by dense bush, it seemed they would be sheltered from the wind, and from prying eyes on the road, searching for them.

  “Leo?”

  “Mm?” Leo asked, as he opened his saddle-bags and pulled out two horse blankets.

  “Can we find the road again? I mean...” Alicia shuddered. They had walked a fair way through the trees, and they might be well and truly lost when the sun rose. Leo pulled something from the bag and came to sit down.

  “Here.”

  “What is it?”

  “A compass,” Leo replied.

  “Can I see?” Alicia lifted the small device from his palm and turned it about on her hand, watching how the needle always swung in the same direction. She had heard about them, but never actually held one before. They were for sailors and explorers, for soldiers and mariners and adventurers. They had never been part of her world, until now.

  “It always points north,” she murmured. “Like the Pole Star.”

  “Yes,” Leo said simply, and the look in his eyes was something she had never seen before: tender and warm as firelight.

  “I like the stars,” Alicia murmured, and nestled closer to him.

  “I do, too,” Leo said, softly. Very gently, as if she were a magical creature, he reached out and placed his arm around her shoulder.

  “That's warm,” she murmured. She rested her head on his chest. His body was firm behind her, his arm keeping her safe. A minute after they had settled so, and he had pulled their cloaks around them, her breath slowed into the regular pattern of sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  MORE SURPRISES

  MORE SURPRISES

  The sun lanced through the trees, bright golden bars falling to the leaf-mold far below, cutting through the early morning mists with tenuous warmth.

  “Mm...”

  Alicia stirred and stretched. She’d had the loveliest dream...

  She moved and felt a warm body behind her. Leo smelled of saddle-oil and leather and the musky scent of men. It was no dream!

  She rolled over. Her left hand was stiff with the cold.

  “Ouch...” she groaned, trying to move her arm. It hurt. Badly.

  “Oh...” Leo stirred, just then, moving fingers nerveless from the cold and lack of blood. He looked down, and then, very tenderly, he touched Alicia's hair.

  “Morning,” he murmured. His lips followed where his hand had stroked, breathing warmth against her skin. Alicia moved back against him. He drew in his breath sharply, and sat still, but did not release his hold on her.

  Tenderly, he leaned across and kissed her ear. “You slept well?” he asked solicitously.

  “Very well, thank you,” Alicia murmured. “You?”

  “Mm.”

  He moaned with pain as he tried to move his fingers, stiff with cold, and then rolled his shoulder, wincing when it popped.

  “I think we are in good working order?” he asked at last, standing and stamping to make the blood reach his toes.

  “I think so.” Alicia stood, drowsily, and staggered, almost falling as she tried to put her weight on a foot completely nerveless with cold. She gritted her teeth as the cramp shot up her leg, and tried to support her weight on a bough.

  “Sore, eh?” Leo said, grimacing in sympathy. His own feet were a furnace of pain, and he had barely stepped on them yet.

  “Yes.”

  “It will remedy itself,” he said, reassuring her. He took a few agonized paces and then began to ready the horses. The poor creatures had stood outside all night and must be feeling at least as bad as they.

  It took twenty minutes to saddle the horses, and then they were ready to leave. Leo, white and shaking from cold and hunger – they had to ration the loaf of bread and the cheese they carried in the saddlebags – held the compass as they rode.

  “This way,” he said, confidently.

  They rode through the trees, the sunlight warming them as the birds sang the last of the morning's chorus. It was going to be warmer that day, Alicia was sure, and they both expressed their relief at that.

  Ten minutes later, they rejoined the road.

  “You can see where they rode past, here.” Leo indicated the muddied surface of the road, churned with the tracks of at least four sets of hooves. “They must have each searched a trail and met here,” he suggested, looking at the marks, deep in the mud.

  “That must be right,” Alicia whispered, and shuddered. They had come so close! Thank the Heavens they had not thought to venture far into the trees.

  “We should be able to reach the road to London today,” Leo said quietly, as they rode out of the forest, along the main track, going south.

  “Good,” Alicia whispered, and meant it.

  They rode a way in silence, and then the trees were thinning and they were on the road to London.

  “We shall have to travel several days,” Leo cautioned. “I suggest we do something about changing our identities at the first inn we reach.”

  “Our identities?” Alicia asked.

  “You don't have to,” Leo explained gently. “They probably aren't looking for a young girl with flame-red hair and the greenest eyes ever, but me?”

  Alicia swallowed. No one had described her that way, and the words washed over her soul like a warm bath over an aching body. She smiled, radiantly.

  “What?” Leo asked, smiling uncertainly.

  “Nothing.” Alicia grinned, and rode closer to him.

  They rode in silence as the day broke into golden light.

  At midday, they reached the first inn. The roads were mercifully quiet, and they only once had to leave the track to allow Baron Watney and his hunting entourage to stream past them, hounds baying.

  “Here we are!” Leo sighed. “The Two Hills,” he read, narrowing his eyes. “Where?” He turned in his saddle, looking for two hills.

  “There, silly!” Alicia grinned, and pointed at the distant horizon, where two craggy peaks rose toward the sky.

  “Oh, those!” Leo said, surprised. “Sorry. We have a different definition of hills in Bavaria.”

  Alicia laughed, delighted.

  They rode into the inn and surprised the innkeeper by ordering a ridiculously lavish breakfast, and stabling for their horses.

  “That...” Leo murmured, through a mouthful of fresh bread and fried eggs, “is much better.”

  “Leo!” Alicia giggled. She had a trace of butter on her nose from the scones, and her eyes were shining.

  Leo grinned.

  “Have I ever told you that you're beautiful?” he asked, suddenly.

  Alicia, swallowing some bread, almost choked. Had she really just heard that? From Leo?

  “What?” he asked, looking up, baffled, from his breakfast. “Did I do something untoward?”

  “Nothing.” Alicia smiled at him.

  “Very well.” Leo smiled and reached across the table to where her hand rested. His fingers gently clasped her wrist. They sat hand in hand for about a minute, absorbed in the closeness.

  “Would sir like an egg?”

  “Oh.” Leo grinned and withdrew his hand from Alicia's. “No, thank you.” He smiled at the landlady. “I think we would like to pay, yes?”

  “Oh, yes!” Alicia said, rapt. She looked at Leo – polite Leo – and wondered, suddenly, how he had become so genteel overnight. He had been so irritable, always! It was nice to see him so friendly and relaxed.

  “Here you are.” The landlady brought them the bill.

  Leo reached into his purse and drew some coin. “It seemed worth twice that! It was excellent.”

  Amidst the effusive greetings of their hosts, Alicia and Leo left.

  “That was a lovely breakfast,” Alicia sighed.

  “Very.” Leo grinned.

  To Alicia's startled surprise, he kissed her, there in the stables. His mouth was warm on hers, his body close. She gasped. She wanted to stay like that, but, reluctantly, t
hey pulled apart and reached for their saddles.

  As they saddled up, helped by a single groom, the proprietress' son, they heard a sudden commotion.

  “Here!” A pause, then another shout. “They're here!” The voices echoed up the road, and were followed by the thunder of hooves on the cobbles. Leo and Alicia, running to the door, were just in time to see the first of a group of black-cloaked horsemen burst from under the trees.

  “We'd best go.” Leo cast a worried glance at Alicia. She nodded.

  They mounted and rode through the door. Leo, leaning forward, streaked ahead, already questing for the road. Alicia, a little behind, tightened her grip and leaned forward. Then she stopped.

  “Leo!” Alicia screamed. He turned. Her cloak had caught a nail in the doorway, and she was struggling to free it.

  “Alicia!” He turned back as she desperately unfastened the cloak from her shoulders.

  As it fell, she looked up. She was looking straight into a thin face with black eyes.

  “I know your face,” the man said, almost as surprised as she was.

  “Leo!” Alicia screamed again, and then she was galloping forward, racing to meet him as he rode back to her.

  Together, they burst onto the road, and veered off, into the trees.

  After twenty minutes of hard riding, they seemed to lose their pursuers.

  “He saw me!” she gasped. “The duke of Lennox! I recognized him. And he recognized me.”

  “Oh.” Leo swallowed. His face twisted, pained. He closed his eyes. “That's bad.”

  “Yes.” Alicia nodded, miserable. “It is.”

  The Duke of Lennox was not only Leo's enemy. He was also Roderick Drosty's friend, which was why Alicia had recognized him. The duke would not take kindly to his enemy stealing his friend's affianced wife.

  The rest of the day passed in silence, Alicia and Leo both concentrating on the ride, trying not to think about the pursuit, and how much worse it might be.

  Because now, they were probably pursued by two mighty men: The Duke of Lennox and the heir of the Earl of Darbyshire – Roderick.

  What could they do about it?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  MATTERS CLOSE TO HOME

  MATTERS CLOSE TO HOME

  Violin music filled the hall in London, reaching up to the lofty, molded ceiling studded with the shapes of angels and held on slender columns.

  The Spencer Ballroom in London, a venue for some of the most stylish evening gatherings, was filled with a crowd of genteel, sophisticated people. Society ladies, waving fans and walking languorously, discussed scandalous, sophisticated things with their gentlemen companions with elegant detachment. A violin played somewhere, joined by another in a haunting melody.

  Henriette stood at the refreshments table, looking out across the hall. The scene was a blur of fine silks and muslins, the colors ranging from white to russet and deep blue. She watched a man with silk hose and red velvet breeches, his hair tied back with velvet ribands, talking to a lady wearing a feather in her dark, piled hair. The air smelled of rosewater, gardenia and lavender, fragrances worn by men and women.

  “Miss Langford?” A hand touched Henriette gently on the shoulder and she turned. Roderick Drosty stood behind her.

  “Lord Drosty,” she greeted him, curtseying. Inwardly, she smiled. She had arrived three days ago and met him at an evening party, ostensibly by marvelous coincidence. He must have followed her here. The thought pleased her.

  “My dear Henriette – if I may use your name – could I ask you to honor me with a dance?”

  Henriette laughed. “Of course, my lord. On both counts – the dance, and my name.” She took his hand, and he kissed it.

  “Shall we?” He led her to the dance floor, where the two violinists had started a gavotte.

  Henriette, dressed in a pale-yellow ball gown, the sleeves diaphanous chiffon and the neckline low, whirled gracefully across the floor with Roderick. Gazing up at the ceiling and its molded angels as they danced, Henriette could not help thinking of Alicia, and silently wished her well.

  “Safe passage,” she whispered under her breath, wishing Alicia and her beloved well. Despite the beauty and fineness of the surroundings, she could not help worrying about her friend. They must be on board a ship by now. They had been gone a week.

  “My lady?” Roderick, his hand on her waist as they danced, murmured a question, brown eyes perplexed. Since meeting him, they had agreed to attend other events together – balls, poetry readings and parties. Henriette had hoped to avoid anyone from Yorkshire who knew of Roderick's betrothal, but even in the past two days of events, they had still received some strange looks. Roderick seemed to have thrown caution to the winds, and rumors were already flying. It would, Henriette thought, swallowing, help to break the betrothal off faster, though she was a little surprised at how quickly her plan was working, and how well...

  “Oh, sorry, my lord. It was nothing. I was just distracted,” Henriette murmured, and gave a winning smile. She felt his hand tense on her waist, and knew her plan was working. She smiled tightly. Freedom for her friend, and a life of material provision for herself! What more could she ask for?

  “No need to apologize, my lady,” Roderick said, intensely. “You are free to be lost in thought whenever the fancy takes you.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Henriette smiled. They laughed.

  The dance continued, the ceiling whirling above them as Henriette tilted her head back, letting her feet move through the Polonaise unsupervised.

  It felt strange to be having a ball here in London, she reflected, letting her mind wander on the melody of the music as they danced, when it was only just over a week since the ball for Alicia's birthday. Henriette knew where she was, but no one else did. Lady Valeria had not stopped crying since the day Alicia was discovered missing. The house was in mourning, and Henriette had been pleased to remove herself from the silence and the weeping Lady Valeria, who had shut herself in her rooms, refusing to see anyone. She had not even left to wish Henriette goodbye.

  It had not bothered Henriette too much: it would have been difficult to lie to a lady she admired, especially since her own words could ease that pain. Concealing Alicia's whereabouts had been cruel, but necessary.

  “My lady?” Roderick was looking down at her. The dance had ended, and they had arrived, as if by magic, at the edge of the dancefloor, near the alcove.

  “My lord.” Henriette smiled and lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug.

  They walked together into the alcove. It led out onto a wide terrace, where the stars whirled above them. They kissed.

  The sounds from the ballroom were faint here, as they walked to the edge of the terrace, which overlooked a small garden and then the street below. Sounds from the town were louder: a man, shouting to another. A dog, barking somewhere.

  Henriette stood back and watched Roderick, where he leaned on the rail, a frown on his face.

  “My lord? What deep thoughts are these?” she asked lightly, touching his arm.

  “Sorry, my dear Henriette,” Roderick said, quickly returning to the present. “I was simply... worried.”

  Henriette sighed inwardly. She could guess the cause of it. She knew that no one in the Drosty family approved of her dalliance with their son and heir. Here, in London, they could be more open. Of the few who knew that Roderick and Alicia were betrothed, most chose to assume the arrangement had been altered. And none knew Alicia had gone.

  “I hope I do not add to your troubles?” she asked.

  “Mm? Oh, no! Of course not,” Roderick demurred, though Henriette thought she might have guessed at the truth.

  “Alicia is safe and well, I am sure of it,” Henriette ventured gently.

  “I do not want to speak of her,” Roderick said. In the faint light, she could see his eyes were wide and large, his face tortured. “Not when you are near,” he added gently. His hand covered hers where they both leaned on the rail, and together they looked u
p at the stars.

  Henriette sighed and moved closer. She did not quite know how to explain Alicia's absence, were it to come to light. She had decided to say that she thought she had gone on a rest cure to Bath. She hoped that would be sufficient, and no further investigation would happen. Not until Alicia was safely away and she had gained Roderick's hand.

  “Roderick, my dear,” she whispered softly.

  “Mm?” He sounded surprised by the term of endearment and turned around.

  She looked up at him, head tilted back. Gently, she rested a hand on his shoulder.

  He bent down to her and kissed her, his lips warm on hers.

  Henriette made a sound of pleasure and pressed her body against his, letting herself drift in the delicious sensations that flowed through her, forgetting for the moment about all worry.

  Returning to the present once again, Henriette looked up at the dark velvet sky. As Roderick kissed her, murmuring passionate words, she closed her eyes and surrendered to his tongue, his hands, the warmth of his body on hers.

  “Oh, my lady,” he breathed.

  “We should return, my lord,” she whispered softly. “The other guests will wonder where we are.”

  “I almost wish I did not have to care,” Roderick murmured, but he dutifully dropped his hand from her shoulder and led her slowly back to the main room and the ball.

  As they walked back to rejoin the main group, Henriette could not help but wonder where her friend was, and how she fared.

  Her life was turning out rather well, she felt. She only wished her dear friend was safe and sound, somewhere far across the ocean from here.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ON THE JOURNEY

  ON THE JOURNEY

  Two weary travelers walked down the track, heading toward London.

  “How much further do we have to go?” Alicia asked Leo, leaning back to stretch her weary muscles and looking up at Leo, who still rode slowly beside her. Overhead, the sky was the rich cerulean of late autumn, the gold of the last leaves a magnificent contrast.