Geek Girl and the Scandalous Earl

by Gina Lamm

  “Careful, Miss Marten!” Mike reached out a hand and steadied her before she could slip off the sidesaddle into the street.

  Her heart thumped hard. She locked her eyes forward and mentally glued her ass to the polished leather seat. “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “No harm done. I say, are you quite sure you want to continue?”

  She nodded, never looking his way. She didn’t want him to see the embarrassment-slash-terror in her eyes. “I’m sure.”

  After nearly falling on her ass, she was much more careful. She pretended she was on a quest, and in a very real way, she was—one that would hopefully end with her winning a very distinguished prize.

  By the time they’d reached the park, she was starting to get the hang of the rhythm of Belle’s walk and the odd sidesaddle. Fortunately, the park wasn’t crowded. She’d hate to embarrass Mike in front of a big group of people.

  “You are doing quite well, Miss Marten.”

  Mike’s voice startled her, but she was careful to keep steady as she swiveled her head to look at him. “Really?” Her voice came out sort of soft and shaky.

  “Yes. For a lady who has never ridden before, you are taking to it quickly. In time, I think you will find you’re enjoying yourself.”

  She smiled at him and looked forward once more to the grassy expanse of the park ahead. “You know what? I think you’re on to something. This is fun.”

  He chuckled then, a warm, deep sound that made her suck in her breath. “Simple pleasures, Miss Marten, should never be taken for granted.”

  “You might be right, your lordship.” Her wink at him brought a true grin to his face.

  He flicked the reins lightly against the deep black of his horse’s neck. As the animal broke into a trot, Mike called back over his shoulder. “Simple pleasures, Miss Marten, like feeling the wind in one’s face.”

  She scowled at his back as the distance between them grew larger. She was really starting to get the hang of this, and he had to go and show her up like that? So not fair. She chewed the inside of her cheek, wondering if it was a stupid idea to coax Belle into catching up with him. She’d almost made up her mind to nudge her horse’s side with her boot and to hell with the consequences when Mike stopped his horse next to an open carriage. His voice carried over the chattering birds, sounding pretty happy to be talking with whoever the old man was. The salt-and-pepper whiskers on the older gentleman were kind of startling. She hadn’t decided whether they made him look like a badger or a demented and ancient elf when a woman’s voice called behind her.

  “Hello there.”

  Laying the rein across Belle’s neck carefully, she was relieved when the horse responded by turning around to let Jamie see who was speaking.

  The dark-haired woman gave a tight-lipped smile from her perch atop a snowy white horse. She was wearing a riding dress of deep red, her skirt looking like a splash of blood against the stark white of her mount.

  “Hi,” Jamie said, smiling back in a confused way.

  “It is quite a beautiful day to be enjoying the park, is it not?” The stranger tilted her head at Jamie slightly, a quizzical look on her face.

  “Yes, ’tis. Quite.” Jamie tried her best to sound authentic, but her “quite” came out sounding like “quoit.”

  “I do not believe I have made your acquaintance, but it is easy to see by your lack of chaperone that we share a certain, ah, occupation.” Her horse tossed its head, and she jerked on the reins rather viciously in response. Jamie winced. She wasn’t a horse fan, but that didn’t mean she thought they should be mistreated. “Those in our position would do well to band together, do you not think?”

  Jamie was pretty sure that she wasn’t mistaking the subtle venom in the woman’s tone. Her mount apparently agreed with Jamie, its eyes rolling wildly as it stamped one hoof.

  “Sorry, but I think you’re mistaken. My chaperone is back there, and I should really be getting back to Mi…er, his lordship. Good day,” Jamie said with as polite a smile as she could manage, and tried to turn Belle back around. Where the hell was Mike?

  “I shall accompany you. I would dearly love to make the acquaintance of your protector,” the woman purred as her horse drew alongside Belle.

  “No, no, I would hate to bother you. Honestly, I’m not a hooker, erm, mistress. Just a normal woman.” Jamie nudged Belle’s sides to encourage her to speed it up. She didn’t trust this person, and she wanted to get far away from her. Mike was only about fifty yards away.

  The black-haired female must have followed Jamie’s gaze, and her gasp jerked Jamie’s attention over to her. “Whatever are you doing with Lord Dunnington, you common trollop?”

  The skin between Jamie’s shoulder blades pricked and burned, and she stopped Belle in her tracks as Mike had shown her. When Jamie turned her head, she wasn’t at all surprised to see the raven-haired beauty glaring death. Jamie’s sense of self-preservation warred with frustration and the need to retaliate. The snark won hands down.

  “Listen, if you’re going to call me names, you should at least know the one I was born with first. I’m Jamie Marten. And you are?”

  The woman drew herself up taller, the vibrant red of her riding dress matching the flame of temper in her cheeks. “I am Collette Dubois, if you must know. I demand that you answer me. Who are you to Lord Dunnington?”

  “That’s not really polite, you know.” Jamie stared straight into her eyes, not backing down a bit. “I’m not sure what kind of mother you had, but even where I’m from, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Of course, I don’t know that I should expect anything more from somebody who writes horrible, pathetic letters practically begging for the return of her sugar daddy.”

  Jamie swore she could hear teeth grind together. She hoped in the back of her mind that the woman would bite down hard enough to break one loose. The stranger probably could have put up with the return insults, but when Jamie smiled at her, sweet as pie, that was the straw that broke the hooker’s patience.

  “You know nothing of me, you damned bitch!”

  When time slowed to a crawl and the riding crop in her white-gloved hand rose, then fell toward Belle’s hindquarters, Jamie knew that she had no one to blame for this predicament but herself. If she’d kept her damn trap shut and caught up to Mike, then this wouldn’t have happened. But she’d let her stupid jealousy over his former lover goad her into this. As the whip cracked against Belle’s flank and her shriek cut the air, Jamie had the guilt of her horse’s pain as well as the anticipation of her own that would surely be coming very, very soon.

  Time restarted with a vengeance as Belle took off running headlong. Jamie grabbed at her long mane, but the smoothness of the saddle made her slip and slide at the violent pace of the horse’s gait. Jamie had enough time to hear hoofbeats thundering behind her as Belle rounded a tree and sent her sliding off the slick saddle into the very thick, very hard trunk.

  ***

  The sound of pounding hooves turned Micah’s head from his conversation with Sir Humphrey and stopped his breath all in one go. Belle was bolting away from them, and a terrified Jamie was being jounced atop her back like so much dead weight. Without a word to Sir Humphrey, Micah whipped Hart into a gallop, trying to catch up to them before Jamie’s grip failed. When Belle rounded the curve of the path, she slung her rider into a tree with a sickening crack.

  Micah flung himself off Hart’s back and dashed to Jamie’s side, fear surging through his veins.

  “Jamie!” He knelt by her side, somewhat relieved to see her wide eyes looking at him, dazed though they were.

  “Mike?” Her voice was thin and confused.

  Leaning closer to her, he cupped her cheek with a gloved hand, cursing the fabric barrier. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her forehead furrowed in clear pain. Her jaw tightened, and her body went rigid as a corpse. He panicked.

  “Jamie, open your eyes. Look at me, damn it!” He’d probably sounded too demanding, too commanding for h
er current state, but he could do no less. He needed to see her eyes again, to make sure she was alive. He breathed a silent prayer of thanks when her lids slitted open.

  “Stop being so damn bossy,” she whispered, pain robbing her of her voice.

  “Stay with me.” Mike scooped her up and placed her atop his horse, keeping her steady with one hand as he mounted up behind her. He barked a sharp order to the groom to fetch her mount, kicked Hart into a brisk gallop, and headed homeward as quickly as he could, steadying her against his chest.

  “Ah,” Jamie gasped, grabbing at the back of her head. The bouncing of the horse must have been excruciating for her, but he could waste no time, not knowing how badly she’d been hurt.

  “Stay with me,” he repeated, one arm drawing her body close to his. He steadied her, and she melted against him, finally relaxing the rigid set of her muscles. It worked. He held her still, absorbing the shocks of Hart’s gait through his tensed muscles.

  She turned her nose into his jacket, and he tried not to think of how wonderful it felt to hold her close. She was injured, for God’s sake. She might even die, and it was all his damned fault for tweaking her nose as he had. She’d probably tried to coax Belle into a trot and spooked the horse somehow. A soft moan emanated from her lips, and he tightened his arm around her and nudged Hart’s sides to encourage him to go faster.

  While it was only minutes before he reached the townhouse, it felt as if hours passed before he handed her down to Thornton. Tossing Hart’s reins to George, he clasped Jamie against his chest once more and dashed up the stairs to her bedchamber.

  “It hurts,” she whimpered as he laid her on the bed.

  “I know, dearling, I know.” He gently pulled the pins free of her hair, tossing the feathered hat away. He rolled her onto her side. “Wait here.”

  He’d rung for Mrs. Knightsbridge, but he did not intend to wait for the housekeeper to arrive. He’d see to her needs until then. He studiously ignored the thumping ache in his chest as he dipped a clean cloth into the basin and wrung it out. It was guilt, guilt for her injuries that were solely his fault. He eased down on the bed behind her, pressing the cloth to the swollen knot at the back of her skull.

  “Do not fight it, Jamie. Trust me. The pain will lessen if you relax. Doesn’t this cloth feel good?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. His bare fingers brushed a hair from her forehead. “Don’t leave me, Mike.”

  “I shan’t, dear.” The endearment fell from his lips unbidden. “I am sorry you fell. I should not have left you.”

  She smiled at him without opening her eyes. “No, you shouldn’t. You’re going to owe me for that one.”

  “Whatever you ask, Miss Marten. A gentleman repays his debts.” He’d give her anything she wished, so long as she came through this whole.

  A harried Mrs. Knightsbridge bustled into the room, toting a basket clinking full of bottles.

  “Oh good heavens, your lordship! Whatever happened to poor Miss Jamie?” Mrs. Knightsbridge pulled potions, herbs, and cloths from her basket and began spreading concoctions out on the dressing table.

  “An accident, Mrs. Knightsbridge.” Micah did not prevaricate, admitting his guilt full on. “I left her, and her horse spooked and threw her into a tree. She has a swollen area on the back of her head.”

  “Belle didn’t spook,” Jamie grated, wincing as she looked at them. “That damn bitch cropped her and made her run.”

  “What?” Mike took a step toward Jamie, an ominous thunder gathering in his brain.

  “She said her name was Collette Dubois. She called me names, and we argued. At the end, she whacked Belle across the ass and nearly killed me.”

  Collette. Mike yanked on his waistcoat so hard he nearly popped a button.

  “Miss Marten, I am deeply sorry for the pain you’ve suffered this afternoon.” He reached a hand to her but stopped before it could caress her soft skin once more. He schooled his face into its proper, emotionless mask. “I will approach the lady in question and demand an apology on your behalf.”

  Mrs. K painted a foul-smelling mixture into Jamie’s hair over the sore spot on her head. Jamie wrinkled her nose and looked up at him, obviously attempting to downplay her discomfort. “Please don’t worry about it, Mike. Even if you make her apologize, she won’t be sorry. She made it pretty clear that she hates me.”

  “This was a grievous action. She might have killed you, and I will ensure that she bears full responsibility for her reprehensible behavior. I will leave you to Mrs. Knightsbridge’s care.” With a sharp bow, he strode from the room, determination and fury warring for the upper hand in his chest.

  ***

  “Sorry, Mrs. K,” Jamie whispered.

  “For what, dearie? Running afoul of a miserable, jealous harlot?”

  “I screwed things up. How am I supposed to—ouch!”

  Mrs. K pressed a poultice against the tender goose egg on the back of Jamie’s head. “On the contrary, Miss Jamie, I would say that things are progressing quite well. I am only sorry that Wilhelmina did not warn me of this mean-spirited action before it occurred. I will insist that she be more vigilant in her scrying when next we speak. But did you see his lordship’s face when he vowed to make Collette pay?”

  He had been kind of pissed. Livid, actually. “You think that’s good?”

  “That is quite good. He’s beginning to realize that he cares for you. Now, lie still. I will fetch you some tea, and in the morning, you will be right as rain and ready to resume your mission.”

  Thirteen

  Jamie wasn’t quite “right as rain” the next morning. In fact, it was Wednesday before she was ready to face the world again. Her frequent headaches had been accompanied by bouts of nausea and vomiting. That damn Collette had given her a real-life concussion. She spent Tuesday swinging between wanting to murder the bitch and being really, really grateful that it hadn’t been serious enough to kill her. Even a simple injury at this particular point in history could have had fatal consequences, and she wasn’t about to shuffle off this mortal coil quite yet.

  After helping wash the smelly gunk from her hair that Mrs. K had applied like clockwork for the last thirty-six hours, Muriel dressed Jamie in a pale blue gown that she swore set off Jamie’s blue-green eyes to perfection. After the maid pinned up her now-clean hair, Jamie stood in front of the mirror for a good ten minutes, nerving herself to go down to breakfast. She wanted to see Mike, but she was worried about his reaction. He hadn’t come back to her room since the accident. Mrs. K kept saying he was concerned, but what if she was only saying that to make Jamie feel better?

  What if Collette told him I lied? What if he believes her instead of me? What if he’s sitting at the table writing a love note to his Miss Lyons and planning a beautiful late summer wedding? Well, Jamie thought as she smoothed the patterned blue skirt down over her petticoats, it’s time to get it over with.

  As she walked down the stairs, the clatter of toenails on polished wood greeted her. Prancing at the bottom of the stairs with an unmistakable grin on his long face was Baron.

  “Hey there, bud!” Jamie dashed the rest of the way down the stairs, so happy to see her long-legged friend. She hadn’t felt up to having an audience watch her puke yesterday morning, and she had spent the rest of yesterday afternoon napping, so the poor hound had to find somewhere else to sleep for the last couple of nights. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she sat down on the lowest step and cuddled the goofy dog. He showered her with long-tongued kisses all over her cheek.

  “Ew, Baron, cut it out. Silly mutt.” She scratched behind his ears and hugged the long neck close.

  “I am glad to see that you have suffered no permanent damage.”

  The warm voice startled Jamie, and she stopped scratching Baron. Mike had come out of his office, followed by a mousy-looking short man. The stranger nodded to Jamie and disappeared out the front door.

  “Yes, thank you.” Jamie stood. “Much better now.”<
br />
  “Have you broken your fast? I’d be delighted to accompany you.” Mike held a hand out to her, and she took it with a self-conscious smile.

  “Thanks.”

  Mike escorted her down the hallway, Baron following behind them like a happy-go-lucky groomsman. Jamie tried not to notice how good Mike’s arm felt under her hand.

  As they entered the dining room, a delicious smell assailed her nostrils. Mmm. She really hadn’t realized how hungry she was after the whole ordeal.

  Mike slid the chair back for her, and she sat. Wow. This whole gentleman thing was serious. When she and Mike weren’t at each other’s throats, he really made her feel special. Delicate. Protected in a way that she’d not realized would be so appealing.

  As Mike took his own seat, she started loading her plate to distract herself from how good he looked this morning. Midnight-blue pants hugged every muscle of his long legs. A buff-colored waistcoat was framed by a forest green jacket. An ivory cravat, as she’d learned they were called, was knotted expertly at the base of his strong throat. His dark, wavy hair was perfect, the ends long enough to curl over his ears. All in all, she was beginning to believe that modern movie stars had nothing on Micah Axelby.

  Jamie took a bite of ham and snuck a piece under the table to the warm chin resting on her knee. Baron gobbled up the treat with delicate greed.

  “I trust you are feeling well? You are looking so much better that I assumed so without asking.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. The concern in his eyes made her stomach flutter a little. “I’m a lot better. I think it was just a mild concussion.”

  He shook his head at the unfamiliar term.

  “A lot of bad headaches. I feel a lot better now. Thank you for taking care of me—after it happened, I mean.” She looked down in her lap. Large brown eyes stared up at her, pleading. She snuck Baron another piece of ham.

  “It was my fault you were injured,” he said seriously. “Had I not teased you, leaving you behind, you would not have faced Collette alone. It was unforgiveable of me, and I beg your pardon.” There wasn’t a discernable shred of duplicity in either his words or his face.