Debbie Raleigh - Some Like It Brazen.doc

by Some Like It Brazen (lit)

  “Mrs. Green,” he softly chided. “What is this nonsense?”

  “Oh, sir.” Turning her bulk toward the door, the housekeeper regarded him with a tragic expression. “I cannot possibly leave you in the lurch like this. Who will tend to you if I am gone?”

  They were the same words he had heard over a dozen times since his unexpected return, and he bit back yet another sigh.

  The older woman had been a mainstay at the estate for decades and was quite convinced they could not survive a day without her.

  Or perhaps she merely wished to be assured that they could not survive without her, a tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind.

  Thrusting aside his unworthy flare of impatience, Edward forced a small smile to his lips. He would not allow his ill humor to be taken out on his staff.

  “We will all miss your services, my dear, and no doubt the house will be in shambles by the time you return, but we will manage to muddle through.” He reached out to pat her shoulder. “You cannot possibly miss the wedding of your granddaughter.”

  She twisted the handkerchief in her hands, obviously torn between being with her family and the fear some calamity might descend while she was gone.

  “I did promise Betsy I would be with her.”

  “And that is precisely what you shall do.”

  “But—”

  “The carriage is waiting at the door, and you know how I dislike having my cattle left standing,” he interrupted with a stern glance.

  “It does not seem right.” She gave a small sniff. “Who will see to you?”

  He resisted the urge to glance down and see if he was still in short coats. The elder members of the staff never seemed to realize that he had actually left the nursery.

  “Mrs. Chester will take care of the meals, and there are Maggie and Liza for the cleaning,” he soothed. “Besides, it is not as if I intend to do any entertaining.”

  The round countenance abruptly hardened with disdain. “You may not intend to entertain, but you know the Vicar and his wife will be landing on your doorstep the moment they learn you have returned. Mrs. Allison must always be first to know the latest gossip.”

  Edward hid a smile at the woman’s sour tone. There were few in the neighborhood who had not run afoul of Mrs. Allison’s sharp tongue and habit of spreading about the most ridiculous tales.

  “And when have I ever possessed the least amount of gossip to share?”

  “Mark my words, without me here she will force her company upon you and will be quizzing you on everything from the Prince to the latest color of ribbons to every female who might have batted a lash in your direction. Not to mention devouring every biscuit in the house.”

  Edward froze at her unwitting words.

  Every female who batted a lash in your direction…

  Bianca.

  Hell’s teeth. It had been a week since he had last seen Bianca. A week during which he had done his best to struggle through his tangled emotions and decide what the future might hold for them.

  A perfectly reasonable means of making the proper decision.

  Unfortunately, not a moment passed when he was not battling the fierce need to rush back to London. He ached for her with a force that denied logic.

  “I am perfectly capable of giving Mrs. Allison a short shift if necessary,” he muttered, not surprised when the housekeeper regarded him with a searching gaze.

  Although the staff had been careful not to probe into his abrupt return from London, they all were aware that something had occurred. It was in the manner they tiptoed about him, as if they feared he might suddenly combust.

  “Capable, perhaps, but not willing,” she murmured.

  Taking her arm, he firmly led her toward the door. “You can trust in me.”

  “Well, I suppose it shall only be for a few days.”

  “Downstairs with you,” he commanded.

  Entering the hall, the housekeeper swiveled about to stab him with a stern frown.

  “You are to eat every morsel that Margaret puts before you, and do not be wearing your good boots to the field. Oh, and if Mrs. Horwitt drops by one of her sponge cakes, you are to thank her and throw it directly in the rubbish. Her mind is not at all what it was, and there is no telling what might be in—”

  “Good lord, enough.” Edward chuckled as he waved his hand toward the front door. “Now shoo.”

  “It is good to have you home, sir.” She reached up to pat his cheek as if he were no more than five. “We have all missed you.”

  His heart warmed at her obvious affection. However much his heart might urge him to return to London, it truly was good to be home.

  “As I have missed you.” He squeezed her fingers before gently stepping back. “Now go before we both embarrass ourselves and break out in maudlin tears.”

  Seemingly convinced that the roof would not tumble down the moment she stepped foot outside the door and that Edward was not secretly plotting to have her replaced, Mrs. Green at last turned and firmly headed down the hall.

  Edward heaved a small breath of relief as he abandoned the servants’ quarters and headed upstairs to his study.

  There were endless stacks of bills and estate accounts awaiting his attention. Thus far he had accomplished little more than shuffling them from one pile to another. And of course his steward had left a list of various repairs he wished to begin as soon as Edward offered his approval.

  Today he intended to complete one task.

  The thought was forefront in his mind as he entered the small room that was nearly overwhelmed by the heavy walnut desk and shelves that were stuffed with every farming book, manual, and article he could collect. Unfortunately, his feet did not lead him toward the cluttered desk. Instead he discovered himself standing at the window as he blindly gazed at the fertile fields and rolling meadows.

  It was a view that always filled his heart with quiet pride. It might not be the largest, most profitable estate in England. But it was his.

  Today, however, he did not even notice the tidy cottages or recently cleared hedgerows. Instead his thoughts were once again wrenched back to London and the woman he had left behind.

  Leaning against the thick wood of the window frame, Edward allowed time to slip past, barely noting when Mrs. Chester brought his tea tray and left it to grow cold on the study.

  He was still standing there when he heard the footsteps entering the room and the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat.

  A grimace twisted his features as he kept his back firmly turned. “Thank you for the tray, Mrs. Chester, but I am not hungry at the moment.”

  “You really should eat, you know,” a soft female voice urged. “Your cook will be very disappointed to find her offering left untouched.”

  Edward briefly squeezed his eyes shut. Had he at last tumbled over the edge into madness?

  Was he hearing voices now?

  If he turned, would there be no one there?

  His question was answered as a familiar, unmistakable heat swirled through his body.

  His reaction was real enough. Which could only mean that Bianca was real as well.

  Waiting until he was certain he had managed to hide his shock, Edward at last slowly turned to confront the woman standing in the center of the room.

  His breath caught at the sight of her. He had not forgotten her beauty. What man in his right mind could?

  The perfect features, her exotic midnight eyes and raven curls. The manner in which the crimson carriage gown clung to her slender curves.

  God knew they had haunted his thoughts often enough.

  But it was the jolt of sheer pleasure at the sight of her that he had underestimated.

  Thank God his muscles had clenched so tight he was unable to rush across the worn carpet and haul her into his arms.

  “Bianca.” His voice came out shockingly flat. Strange considering his insides felt as if they had been tossed in a churn.

  “Edward.”

&nbs
p; “What the devil are you doing here?”

  Unease fluttered over her pale countenance before she determinedly squared her shoulders.

  “Obviously I came to see you.”

  His shock began to recede, and a welcome dose of logic managed to wiggle its way through the fog. He had been so caught off guard by her arrival it had not occurred to him how it had been accomplished.

  “Alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good God.” His brows snapped together. “Have you lost your wits? The Duke will have me hung from the rafters. Or worse…gelded.”

  She shrugged, not nearly as concerned with the danger to his manhood as she should be.

  “My father and mother left yesterday for Surrey, where they await my brother’s impending heir. As far as they are aware, I am currently with Aunt Winifred in London.”

  “And when they discover you are not?”

  Moving toward the desk, she absently removed her chip bonnet and gloves and tossed them aside. His mouth went dry at the graceful sway of her hips. Among the shabby furnishings, she glowed like the finest jewel.

  “I assure you my parents are far too preoccupied to take note of my absence, and my aunt is far too relieved not be forced to accompany me about town to question my sudden decision to join my parents.” She turned back to eye him with a guarded expression. “No one will know I am here.”

  No one will know…

  For a crazed moment, his body threatened open revolt.

  The mere thought of having her alone and at his mercy stirred a primitive part of him that he had not even known he possessed.

  Sucking in a deep breath, he grappled to retrieve his fading wits. Dammit. He did not even know why she was here.

  Besides which, the last thing he needed was a bloodthirsty duke landing on his doorstep. Especially not one that might potentially be his father-in-law.

  “This is madness. I cannot believe that even you would dare such a thing,” he scolded.

  “What did you expect me to do? You were the one to flee London.”

  His pride instantly rebelled at the implication of cowardice. “I did not flee.”

  “No?”

  “I have responsibilities here that cannot be entirely ignored.”

  The dark gaze never wavered from his stiff expression. “You could not even bother to say good-bye?”

  His lips twisted. “I was in something of a hurry.”

  “And you wanted to hurt me?” she demanded softly.

  “Is that even possible?”

  She seemed to wince at his harsh words. “More than I ever imagined. Why else would I be here?”

  He sharply turned away. He had been so bitterly hurt on the last occasion they were together that he had been capable of smothering his instinctive urge to toss good sense to the wind and simply gather her in his arms and never let her go.

  Now he had to struggle to maintain even the hint of aloof command.

  God, to have her here.

  In his home, where he had imagined her being a hundred times before.

  The reality unnerved him to the very depths of his soul.

  “I am no longer foolish enough to even hazard a guess at what is in your mind.”

  “Edward,” she breathed softly, making his heart clench with fierce need.

  Heat and temptation stabbed through his body as she stepped close enough behind him to touch his back. Hell’s teeth. He had to get away long enough to collect his composure.

  He could not possibly carry on a reasonable conversation while his body was thick and aching to possess her.

  For the moment, retreat was the better part of valor.

  “I must go.”

  “Edward…”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Bianca stood in the middle of the study and battled the flood of tears.

  Dear God, what did he want from her?

  Had she not dared her father’s wrath, her reputation, and her very future to come here and prove her love to him?

  Had she not offered her heart to him on a silver platter despite her own considerable pride?

  Did he have to be so bloody well impossible?

  For long moments she struggled to control her raw emotions. She wanted nothing more than to flee back to London and salvage what was left of her pride.

  Or perhaps to search out Edward and thump his thick head.

  In the end she did neither.

  As her initial surge of embarrassment began to fade, her common sense slowly returned.

  She had caught Edward off guard. And he was not a gentleman who handled surprises well.

  He liked to ponder every situation with great care. And heaven knew he would not make a decision without considering it from every angle possible.

  Impulsive he was not.

  If she returned to London without at least giving him the opportunity to soften his feelings toward her, she might very well live with regrets the rest of her life.

  Gathering up her bonnet and gloves, she forced her heavy feet to carry her back down to the lower floor. Once in the foyer, however, she was forced to pause in annoyance.

  Damn and blast.

  She was a young lady accustomed to having a small battalion of servants to see to her every need. When she traveled, her path was smoothed by expensive carriages and nights spent with acquaintances who made every effort to ensure her comfort.

  Now, with the post chaise she had hired to bring her to Kent gone and her luggage piled upon the front step, she was stuck in the ignoble position of seeking out the housekeeper to assist her in traveling to the nearest village.

  Once there she would hire rooms at the local inn. Assuming that they would be willing to allow a young lady without family or servant to remain beneath their roof.

  Her features tightened as she turned on her heel and headed toward the back of the house. She reached the tidy kitchens without stumbling over a servant, and, stepping upon the flagstones that had been ruthlessly scrubbed, she took a moment to appreciate the scent of roasting beef and freshly baked bread. Oh…ambrosia.

  Her mouth began to water. It had been hours since her light luncheon at the Posting Inn, and she abruptly realized just how hungry she was.

  An apple tart would surely hold her over until she could find rooms for the night.

  Following her nose, she had taken several steps toward a table laden with various treats when a slender, gray-haired woman bustled in from a side pantry.

  They both halted in surprise, the older woman hastily wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron before giving an awkward bob.

  “Oh, forgive me, miss, you gave me a right start. I’m not accustomed to having visitors in my kitchen.”

  Sighing at the loss of the apple tart, Bianca forced her most charming smile to her lips. Soon enough she intended to be mistress here. It was important that she win the respect and confidence of the staff.

  “I am searching for the housekeeper.”

  A portion of the cook’s unease faded. No doubt she had heard the rumors a young lady had come to visit her employer and was relieved that Bianca was not there to make demands for some lavish meal to be prepared in her honor.

  “Mrs. Green? You just missed her.”

  “Has she gone to the village?”

  “No, miss. Left to help her granddaughter git wed over in Oakview.”

  Bianca felt her smile falter. “Oh.”

  “Was you needing to speak with her?”

  Damn and blast. The day seemed to be going from bad to worse.

  “I did hope to catch her before she left,” she muttered.

  “Aye, well, she was in a right state over leaving the master in the lurch, but he insisted,” the cook babbled, seemingly unaware of Bianca’s dismay. “Never one to think of himself.”

  Bianca was not at all surprised by the woman’s obvious loyalty. Edward had always spoken of his staff more as family than servants.

  “No, Lord Harrington is a very kind gentleman.”


  Moving toward the wooden table, the cook began to efficiently chop a pile of carrots.

  “Too kind for his own good most times. What he needs is a wife to look after him. There are several lovely maidens in the neighborhood. We all hope he will choose one before the summer is done.”

  Bianca suddenly stiffened. The mere thought of Edward married to another was enough to make her foam at the mouth.

  Edward belonged to her. No one else.

  “He will not be wedding any local maiden.” Wincing as the cook abruptly glanced up at her harsh tone, she firmly forced the smile back to her lips. It was not this woman’s fault that Edward was making her batty. “How long will…Mrs. Green be gone?”

  “At least a fortnight.”

  Bianca bit her lip, considering whether to simply head to the stables and demand that a carriage be prepared. Surely she would not be forced to haul her bags to the nearest inn?

  “I see.”

  The cook heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I hate to admit it, but she shall be sorely missed with the master home. Maggie is a fine girl, but she has her head in the clouds. Mr. Sinclair…begging pardon, Lord Harrington, has only to glance in her direction and she is dropping a plate or tripping over her feet.”

  Bianca possessed full sympathy for the poor maid. Edward had that affect on most women.

  “He is rather a handsome gentleman.”

  A measure of pride settled upon the thin countenance. “The most handsome about.”

  “Yes.”

  Eyeing her with open curiosity, the cook tilted her head to one side. “Is there something I can be doing for you?”

  Bianca glanced about the small kitchen. She should be on her way to the stables. Soon enough it would be dark, and she disliked the thought of entering the inn when the taproom would be filled with curious tenants and drunken travelers.

  Far better to be safely tucked in a private chamber before the locals began to descend.

  Somehow, however, she could not make her feet budge. Whether it was because of her reluctance to leave Edward or because of the cook’s insinuation that a devious horde of local females was lurking about in the hopes of becoming Countess of Harrington was impossible to say.