Or any of them, unfortunately. Mariah would have to stop enjoying the peace and get back to the business of matching these two if she wanted Ella to be able to continue sketching this countryside or Mamma to remain in the home she had loved for twenty years now. As nice as it was to sit idly and soak in the lovely day, there was work to be done and no better time than the present to do it.
"Do you find the countryside here to be much different from rural places where you are from, Miss Vandenhoff?" she asked, convinced there could be nothing inflammatory in her words.
"The farming areas are not dramatically different," the American replied in blessedly calm, civilized tones. "Though I admit to spending most of my time in the city. When my family does leave for holiday, we usually stay at our summer home on the shore and that is, of course, very different from here."
"We are fairly near the shore here, aren't we?" Mr. Chadburne asked. "Two years ago I went to stay with friends near Portsmouth. That must be within an easy journey of here, I should think."
Ella replied before Mariah could. "Indeed, it is a very easy journey to the shore. My father used to take us there often on days when the weather was warm. Mariah and I would venture out in the bathing machines while Papa and Mamma would relax on the beach."
"As I recall, though, you always refused to come down the steps actually into the water," Mariah reminded.
But Ella had a ready reply for that. "And all you ever seemed to care about was smuggling carrots for the horses that pulled us into the waters. I think you enjoyed playing with them more than you did the ocean that we had gone all that way to see."
Even Miss Vandenhoff seemed to find the story amusing and the tone within the group was decidedly light. Still, though, the earl appeared to be hesitant to speak to Miss Vandenhoff himself. Instead he was more inclined to have his cousin make pleasantries for him, constantly remarking to the younger man that he should tell the ladies of this tale or that. Mr. Chadburne obliged, entertaining them with stories of his various misadventures while angling in chalk streams, or losing at a bet and having to spend an entire night in an abandoned abbey that everyone swore was quite haunted.
Miss Vandenhoff scoffed at the mention of ghosts, but Ella was quite enthralled with the idea. Mr. Chadburne seemed to be enjoying the attentions of both young ladies and was clearly embellishing as he described mournful moans and clanking chain and misty specters floating in the darkness. The man was a gifted storyteller and was making himself out to be far more amiable and interesting than his lordship. Certainly he was making Mariah's task harder for her. She'd best do something soon to distract Miss Vandenhoff from the younger man's virtues.
Their meal was done and Ella's box of chalks and her drawing papers lay nearby. That seemed an excellent tool for distraction. Mariah latched onto it when there was a brief lull in the conversation.
"Have you decided what view you would like to sketch today, Ella?" she asked. "I can help you set up wherever you might like to be."
"Oh, well I suppose I can just begin sketching from here," Ella replied.
Drat. How was staying here with the whole group going to do anything to put Miss Vandenhoff into a romantic mood toward Lord Dovington? Somehow she'd have to get the man involved in helping himself in this cause. Honestly, but it seemed he didn't have the first clue about wooing a female.
"I suppose it is a good scene," Mariah admitted. "But there are other very lovely views, as well. Perhaps his lordship and Miss Vandenhoff would be interested in walking along that slight ridge there. Just beyond those trees, as I recall, is a perfect vantage for viewing the church spire and the lands stretching toward Renford Hall."
"I'm not very much given to walking just now," Miss Vandenhoff said. "I prefer to sit here, thank you."
"Well, I'd very much like to see this view you mention, Miss Langley," the earl said. "Perhaps the others can entertain themselves here and you might show me the way?"
Botheration, but this man must have cotton for brains! Did he not realize this was no way to win his fair maiden? Leaving her to sit with his charming young cousin was distinctly the wrong thing to do if he had any hopes of attaching her for himself. What could he be thinking?
Perhaps she ought to explain things to him. In private.
"Very well, my lord. If the others are content to stay here and keep my sister company, I will show you the view. I suppose you are quite interested in seeing the boundaries of your lands, and this will provide excellent position for that."
"Lead the way, then, Miss Langley."
Trying not to huff in frustration as she did so, she led him away from their picnic area and toward the high ground that ran as a rise along the top of the slope over the stream. The ridge took a gentle turn where a copse of trees grew from a rocky gap and it wasn't long before they were out of sight from their group. Mariah would have preferred to keep the others safely in view, but in order to show the earl what his greedy eyes wished to see, this was the direction she was forced to go.
At least it would provide opportunity for her to chastise him on his lack of social skills. It was inconceivable that a man who seemed so sure of himself and who, well, who looked the way he did, should be so very inept in that area. Perhaps, though, it was due to his outward appearance that he had never needed to learn the finer arts of wooing a lady. Perhaps he was simply used to ladies throwing themselves at him. Well, clearly he would have to expand his repertoire if he expected to get anywhere with the American heiress.
"I see the church spire from here," he noted, pointing toward the nestle of rooftops peeping through trees down in the valley below. "And beyond that, over there, are those the chimneys of The Grove?"
"Renford Hall, yes. Our lands... that is, your lands, go as far as that distant tree line there, and all the way to the river on the far side. You cannot see that from here, but this farm house you see with the thatched roof is the nearest edge of the property."
"Indeed, that is quite an expanse. I had no idea."
"No, it seems you have no idea about a lot of things," she said. "Miss Vandenhoff, for example... I'm not certain things are going quite the way we hoped."
"You don't? But she hasn't insulted any of us for more than an hour now. I think that marks great progress, don't you?"
A smile played at the corners of his lips and his eyes sparkled when they fixed on her. Heavens, but if the man could ever be bothered to look at Miss Vandenhoff in this manner, surely she would fall under his spell in that moment. As it was, Mariah had to glance away quickly for her own personal well-being.
"I don't know if it is progress in the right direction, though. Aren't you concerned that your cousin is a bit too..."
"A bit too what, Miss Langley?"
"Well, he talks a lot. Have you not noticed?"
"You do not find that ingratiating?"
"I have nothing against him and he seems perfectly charming. It's just that to compare the two of you... well, you must admit you are not very much alike."
"Are we supposed to be?"
"No, of course not. It's just that when ladies are involved it is safe to assume that not every gentleman will appeal to every lady."
"So you have been considering our appeal and comparing us. How interesting. Tell me, then, where do I rank, in your estimation?"
"You? Well, that's what I wanted to discuss with you."
"I am eager to hear your opinion on the matter. Would you have me be more of a conversationalist like my cousin, or should I do better as a man of action?"
He was standing very close to her now and it was oddly difficult to breathe. She tried to raise her eyes up to meet his, but somehow her gaze remained stuck on the broad expanse of his chest and the powerful spread of his shoulders. He'd abandoned the full black attire she'd been used to seeing him in and today he wore crisp white linen, his cravat tied in a careless knot just below his chin. His chin... yes, she could get her eyes up to his chin and appreciate the firm set of his jaw, the amused
quirk to his lips. Indeed, the man hardly needed to rely on conversation to highlight his appeal.
Action. Of course. That's what was needed where Miss Vandenhoff was concerned. Time was of the essence and clearly conversation was not the man's forte. He should simply sweep the heiress off her feet and have done with it. He must know how to do that, mustn't he?
"Conversation can only go so far, don't you think? Surely by now it is time for action, my lord."
Could it be possible that he was even closer to her now? She could feel the sun's heat radiating off of him. His eyes still sparked, but this time it was the smolder of dancing embers she saw in them. And they drew her. Where she hadn't been able to meet them before, now that she did she was held there, her gaze captured by his and perfectly content to remain there.
Too late, she realized his eyes weren't the only thing holding her. Somehow his hands had come up to touch her, to rest on her shoulders and bring her slowly toward him. She blinked, but that did nothing to break the spell she was under. The rest of the world suddenly seemed very, very far away and she was only aware of him.
"How about this action?" he asked softly, trailing his fingers over her shoulder, along her collar bone, and up to her cheek where he brushed her skin gently.
Her voice was hopelessly gone so she merely nodded. By heavens, if he were to do this to Miss Vandenhoff it would most certainly work in his favor!
"And perhaps even this?" he said, pressing her close against him as he stroked her lightly at the nape of her neck.
Oh, but she liked that. Of course she shouldn't like it, yet there was no denying that she did. The man might be an utter failure at conversation, but he certainly did know a thing or two about action. Her dratted eyelids seemed to forget that now was probably not the best time for her to be taking lessons from him. They drooped involuntarily, falling entirely shut as he pulled her tighter against his broad, heated body.
"And this?" he murmured.
First she felt his warm breath against her face, and then his lips touched hers. Sparks like tiny tingles of lightning flashed inside of her. They shot through her limbs, igniting her nerves and prickling outward through her skin. Her knees sagged and she wrapped her arms around the earl to keep herself from crumbling. Also, to keep him from ending this before she could fully comprehend what it was.
His lips brushed hers. She waited there, motionless, willing her eyes to open but happy they did not so she could concentrate fully on the man's lips. They gave merely a tentative nibble at first, but as her heart pounded in anticipation that quickly turned into something more. She was at a loss how to respond, but he held her so closely and controlled her so effortlessly that soon she knew exactly what to do.
She kissed him back.
Her lips gave in to his, yielding for him and yet at the same time eager to devour him for herself. The lightning continued to race inside her, setting fires inside her that burned in the most delightful way. It hardly mattered that she couldn't even breathe just now.
It must have mattered to Dovington, though. Eventually he pulled back from her, breaking off the kiss and allowing her some much-needed oxygen to clear her brain. She still clung to him as the world spun around her.
"I quite agree with you, Miss Langley," he said when her eyes drifted open just enough to gaze up at him. "Conversation is highly overrated. I shall rely on action whenever possible now."
It took a moment to collect her thoughts and put words into some sense of order. And her voice? It took another moment longer to find that.
"If you rely on actions like those, sir, you will have Miss Vandenhoff swooning at your feet in no time. Just as you hoped, she'll be begging to attach her fortune to your title."
His classical brow furrowed and for a moment he appeared confused. "Her fortune with my title? But I—"
The nearby bark of a dog startled them both. His arms tightened around her but she could turn her head enough to see a black and white collie dog trotting up the sloping hillside toward them. She recognized the animal immediately and knew the dog's owner could not be far behind.
Realization of where she was and what she was doing slammed into her and she pushed herself away from the earl. He let her go but the confusion on his face only deepened. It took but a moment to be replaced by understanding once a man's form could be seen coming into view on the path alongside the stream below them. The earl swore under his breath and stepped away from her.
The dog raced ahead of her master and came to dance around the two on the ridge. The man below waved and called out a greeting. Mariah steadied herself and waved at him. He began heading their way.
The collie nuzzled Dovington's leg as he patted its head. His smoldering glance toward Mariah made her suddenly dizzy. She'd best douse any lingering heat immediately, before their guest might reach them and notice.
"This is Bess," she said, indicating the dog. "And that is her master, Mr. Ben Skrewd. He is our curate."
Chapter 12
So he'd very nearly been discovered by the local curate, manhandling Miss Langley and enjoying every moment of it? Well, thank heavens for barking dogs, Dovington supposed. Truth be told, though, he would have much rather been uninterrupted altogether. When Miss Langley said she preferred action to conversation, she hadn't been lying. Her eager response had been all the conversation he needed to know this was not going to be the last time he got the woman into his arms.
For now, though, he'd best get his mind off that and behave in a civilized manner. The young curate had been introduced as Mr. Skrewd and he seemed amiable enough. Perhaps even too much, as it seemed he and Miss Langley were on very friendly terms.
They joined the rest of the group and for a time all attention was on the simple, but very nicely done, chalk sketch that Miss Renford had been creating. Ned was, perhaps, being overly effusive in his praise of the girl's talent, but Dovington would not fault him for that. Anything that might give reason to Miss Vanderhoff for approving of Ned's behavior was commendable.
The pleasantries and chatter went on far longer than the earl could manage, though. His focus was continually wandering off to consider the soft curves of Miss Langley's form, the elegant arc of her neck and the recollection of just how enticing those elements had been in his arms, under his touch. Her full lips were still pink with the glow from his kiss and he could barely take his eyes from them.
When he finally was distracted from her it was to realize she'd been asking him a question.
"Will you, my lord?" she repeated.
His first instinct was to consent to whatever she might be asking him, but good sense won out and he thought he might do well to at least clarify first.
"I... er, will I what?"
"Attend our ball," she replied, her eyes flashing and her voice clipped.
A ball? Good God, was that what the group had been rambling about? He must have been much deeper in thought than he'd known. The last thing he wanted to attend was some country ball with a pack of curious rustics showing up to ogle him. Then again, it would be an excellent way to put Ned and Miss Vandenhoff together. He hated to admit it, but Miss Langley did seem to have a good idea here.
"Yes, I should think that if you are planning a ball, I will likely attend," he conceded. "When are you to schedule this thing?"
"In three days!" Miss Renford chimed eagerly. "I don't think that is too short a time at all. It does not have to be a fancy ball, and it would be so wonderful to finally have a group of young people all together for such an occasion."
Apparently Miss Langley had doubted the notion of pulling together such an undertaking in but three days, and the earl was tempted to agree. Who would even attempt such a thing? But Miss Langley sighed and gave in to her sister.
"I suppose you are correct," she said with a smile. "We rarely have such friends in our company and I agree that a ball would be just the thing. Somehow we'll make it work."
Miss Renford clapped her hands in excitement, chalk dust flying up
in a puff around her. Even Miss Vandenhoff agreed that perhaps a ball would not be the worst thing they could do with their time. Ned clearly approved, and the curate offered to invite some musicians he knew. There would be a ball in three days' time at Renford Hall and, oddly enough, Lord Dovington was actually looking forward to it.
Not only would he have an excuse to dance with Miss Langley, but there could be no better time than a ball to announce an engagement. All his efforts here would pay off and the Vandenhoff fortune would soon be at the disposal of the future Earl of Dovington. The family name would be saved and he could lay down his heavy burden, finally.
He would, of course, have to set Miss Langley straight on one tiny detail. It seemed she was under the mistaken impression that he was hoping to win Miss Vandenhoff for himself. No wonder the chit had been so determined to interrupt every time Ned seemed to be making some headway. He had to hide a chuckle as he thought of the ridiculous misunderstanding.
As if he could ever marry Miss Vandenhoff! What a thought. Once they were back at the house, he'd have to find opportunity to get Miss Langley alone and inform her of the situation.
If he could pry her away from this curate, of course. Dash it all, but the chit seemed absolutely joined at the hip with this man now that he'd turned up. Yes, the dog was a pleasant addition to their little group, but Dovington found he could not enjoy Mr. Skrewd's presence.
Certainly not nearly as much as Miss Langley appeared to.
After surviving the afternoon's outing and arriving home without making the mistake of finding herself alone with the earl again, Mariah escaped up to her room for a couple hours of much needed rest. Not that she'd actually been able to rest. No, her mind had been far too busy, a jumble of planning and concern and, well, memories of certain things she was now desperate to forget.
The Earl's Passionate Plot Page 8
