The Brooding Earl's Proposition

by Laura Martin

  Selina felt her breathing deepen and her neck arch back ever so slightly as she imagined all he was describing. His voice was low and melodic and with her eyes closed it felt exquisitely intimate.

  ‘Land when it is sighted is a mass of greenery, with golden sand beaches. Tight mangrove forests line the waterways, but the country within is worth the battle to get to.’

  She could hear him shifting in his seat and had to resist the urge to open her eyes. As he spoke her skin was prickling with anticipation and her blood pounding around her body. Never had someone’s words managed to conjure such a visceral response and part of her wanted him to continue while the rest of her wanted to run away while she still had a modicum of control over herself.

  ‘The land is beautiful, rolling hills with the sparkling sea in the background, and though the villages are mostly primitive the people are in many ways much more able than those in England. They have an affinity with their land, with the weather and the seasons and the crops, and a sense of fairness and equality that means no man in a village will let another go hungry.’

  ‘It sounds like paradise,’ Selina murmured.

  ‘All places have their flaws. The cities are crowded and dirty, the people there often hungry and living in poor conditions. There is exploitation, as there is anywhere in the world.’ He paused and Selina could sense he was smiling again. ‘But it is the most beautiful country. The air is fresh and the land is lush.’

  She heard him shift and stand and just as her eyes were about to flicker open she thought she felt the faintest touch on the back of her neck. Selina stiffened, not knowing whether she wanted to flee or to beg for more.

  ‘I think you would like it there, Miss Salinger,’ Lord Westcroft said from somewhere across the room.

  Selina’s eyes shot open. She must have imagined the touch, conjuring up what she wished to happen. She was in dangerous waters, sitting here alone in Lord Westcroft’s study, and not because of how the man in front of her was acting. He hadn’t made a single inappropriate move, but here she was wishing for things that could never be. Things that she knew were both impossible and unwise.

  ‘Please excuse me, Lord Westcroft,’ she said, standing quickly. She needed to get out of this room, to get away from the man who had awakened something inside her she’d never felt before.

  Before he could answer Selina had hurried from the room, aware her behaviour would seem odd, even perhaps a little rude.

  ‘Rude you can apologise for,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Wantonness you cannot.’

  Quickly she walked through the dark hall and up the stairs, stopping only when she’d closed the door to her bedroom firmly behind her. She paused for a moment, resting her forehead on the thick wood, and made an effort to calm her pounding heart.

  Perhaps it was inevitable, this attraction she felt for her employer. He was an attractive man and he could be charming when he wanted to be. She just needed to remind herself how dangerous men of his class could be. How they could promise a woman the world, but didn’t always carry through on that promise, especially to someone of a lower social standing.

  She’d seen the way he’d looked at her, seen the flashes of desire in his eyes, hastily hidden, but there all the same. But he wasn’t looking at her as an equal, as a woman he might take as a wife. If anything were ever to happen between them, it would not lead to marriage, Selina was sure of that. She was a governess, inferior in society’s eyes, and she’d seen first hand how men of Lord Westcroft’s class wheedled out of any commitments to a woman who wasn’t socially their equal.

  Selina thought of her mother, beautiful and young. Her father had been besotted, he’d always said he was completely in love with his second wife, and had mourned her fiercely when she’d died.

  ‘Not enough to marry her,’ Selina said to herself. Despite living her whole life thinking her parents had married, that they had defied convention, that love had overcome the differences in social status, her half-brother had taken great pleasure in telling her that wasn’t actually true. Instead their father had taken the housekeeper’s daughter as a mistress, moved to Cambridge to shield the family from the worst of the gossip and fathered Selina, a daughter he doted on, but had never deigned to tell she was actually illegitimate.

  That was why she would never trust a gentleman. It was a cautionary tale, one that had already cost Selina everything she had once known, and she wasn’t about to make the same mistakes as her mother. There would be no more fantasising about Lord Westcroft, not even when he was at his most charming.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘She must be pretty,’ Richard Rowlands said as he squinted out over the rolling fields.

  ‘Mmm...’ Matthew said non-committally. He’d known Rowlands his whole life and the man had a knack of getting straight to the heart of a problem.

  ‘Something more than just a pretty face, though,’ the other man mused. ‘You must have come across a lot of attractive women in the course of your travels...’

  ‘Shall we ride the boundary?’ Matthew suggested, hoping to change the subject.

  ‘Wouldn’t be the end of the world...’

  ‘Riding the boundary?’

  ‘Falling for someone. You deserve a bit of happiness. It’s high time you stopped punishing yourself for what happened with Elizabeth.’

  Elizabeth. As always when he heard that name his throat tightened and a great pressure began to build behind his eyes.

  ‘I’m not falling for her,’ he said curtly. ‘I merely mentioned I don’t detest having a bit of company at Manresa House. It’s a dreary pile of bricks.’

  ‘Whatever you say, my lord.’

  ‘Cheeky sod.’

  ‘I can doff my cap if you prefer?’

  ‘That’d be a fine sight.’

  Rowlands grinned. There had always been a friendly camaraderie between the two men, despite Rowlands having worked for the Hampton family since he was a lad. He had risen to the position of land steward when Matthew’s brother was in charge of the estate and now Matthew was determined to do whatever it took to keep the steward managing the farmland and tenants and grounds of Manresa House. He would be invaluable when the time came for Matthew to return to India.

  ‘Perhaps I might come and introduce myself to this governess of yours if you have no interest in her,’ Rowlands said, grinning as Matthew rolled his eyes at him.

  ‘Did I mention she’s invaluable? I don’t want you scaring her away.’

  ‘I’ve been declared the most charming man in north Yorkshire three years running.’

  ‘That I struggle to believe.’

  Rowlands stroked his thick moustache and beard. ‘What can I say, the ladies love a man with a silver tongue and a full beard.’

  ‘You haven’t thought about marrying again?’ Matthew asked quietly. His friend had been widowed young, left with a son who must be approaching adulthood now.

  ‘Mary was the only one for me,’ Rowlands said softly, his voice full of sincerity.

  For a moment Matthew envied the steward’s relationship, short lived though it had been. He had never known love, had never experienced feeling as though you couldn’t survive without the other person. And he wouldn’t, not now. After Elizabeth, after those disastrous few months as a married man, he had made himself a promise that he would never be pushed into something he knew was wrong again. More than that, though, he had decided he wouldn’t entangle anyone else in his life. He’d been entrusted with a wife once and it had been an unmitigated disaster. Never again would he put himself or anyone else through that.

  ‘Come on,’ the steward said, urging his horse forward. ‘We have a lot of boundary to check before nightfall.’

  Matthew followed the other man’s lead, feeling the whip of the wind on his face and the chill that was slowly penetrating his thick coat. Yorkshire was the only place he’d ever know
n such a wind, blowing with an icy ferocity that could cut right through you. Just like the sight of the wild heather and the sound of the red grouse’s call, it was one of the things that he would always think of when he remembered his childhood home.

  They rode towards the house, planning on cutting past the formal gardens and out to the west of the estate where manicured lawns gave way to the wilder countryside and where in the distance the white forms of the sheep could be seen dotted over the fields. As they approached the gardens Matthew heard a shriek of laughter and instinctively flinched. Miss Salinger and the girls might be handling the bow and arrows again.

  He wriggled his toes, remembering the sharp pain as the arrow had penetrated his boot and embedded itself in his skin. Luckily the wound had been shallow and hadn’t plagued him for more than a day.

  Sharply he pulled on the reins as Theodosia shot out in front of them. She was giggling, her hair flying behind her as she ran, and Matthew thought back to his childhood. After his mother’s death there had been no more merriment at Manresa House. His father had expected him and his brother to grow up, to act like men despite only being eight and ten. Games and laughter had been heavily frowned upon. And his tutors had been much less rebellious than Miss Salinger.

  Theodosia put her finger to her lips, grinned, then shot off again, hiding herself behind a plinth with a granite urn on top of it.

  ‘Ready or not, here I come.’ Miss Salinger’s voice was carried on the wind from the other side of the formal gardens.

  Matthew watched as she began striding in their direction, stopping to check every possible hiding place on the way. She looked graceful as well as purposeful and he found his eyes tracking her every movement.

  This was why he’d been avoiding her for the past week. Ever since that evening in the library, the evening where he’d come so close to kissing her despite knowing it was highly inadvisable, he’d found excuse after excuse to keep his distance. First he’d needed to travel to Whitby, then he’d decided it was time he reacquainted himself with the furthest corners of his estate. He’d hoped that during the days he’d spent away from Miss Salinger he would have refound his sense, but the stirring inside him as he watched the slender form of the governess battle against the wind disabused him of that idea.

  ‘Good morning,’ he greeted her as she came to the path they were on.

  ‘Good morning, Lord Westcroft.’ Up close he could see the flush of her cheeks where the wind had suffused them with colour.

  ‘May I introduce Mr Rowlands? He is steward of the estate.’

  ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Rowlands.’

  ‘And you, Miss Salinger. I hope you’re settling in well here.’

  ‘I am, thank you,’ she said giving him a warm smile.

  ‘Theodosia seemed in high spirits,’ Matthew said, watching as his words made Miss Salinger stiffen. They hadn’t been meant as a rebuke, but he knew his tone was gruff and disapproving.

  ‘We shall return to our lessons imminently,’ she said, meeting his eyes with a look of defiance. ‘Arithmetic, one of your approved subjects.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘The girls concentrate better if they have breaks from the schoolroom, breaks to run around and play, just like the children they are.’

  He inclined his head. He hadn’t meant for this to develop into an argument.

  ‘Perhaps one day you might grace the nursery with your presence and you would see for yourself.’ With a formal little curtsy and a nod to Mr Rowlands Miss Salinger left them, striding off to where Theodosia was crouching and making the young girl giggle as she was found.

  ‘I think I rather like Miss Salinger,’ Rowlands said after a minute, still watching where the governess and young girl were walking hand in hand, searching for Priscilla.

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘She certainly doesn’t seem to believe servants should be meek and submissive.’

  ‘Heaven forbid I be blessed with someone easy to deal with.’

  Rowlands shot him a knowing look. ‘I don’t think you’d replace Miss Salinger with an obedient young governess without a backbone...’ He paused. ‘I don’t think you’d replace her with anyone.’

  ‘Remind me again why I allow you such liberties.’

  ‘Who was it who rescued you from the roof of the barn in the summer of ninety-five? And who fished you out of the lake when you made a wager with your brother you could swim its length in the middle of December? And who...?’

  Matthew held up a hand, unable to stop himself from smiling. Memories from his childhood were not often pleasant, but he had enjoyed the competitiveness with his brother, when Henry had been just his brother, not being groomed all the time as the heir to the title. Until he was eight and Henry ten they’d played together, fought one another, learned together, and Matthew had loved his older brother with a fierce devotion. It had only been later, when their mother was dead and Henry had been subjected to years of their father’s indoctrination that the boys had drifted apart. The final act that had severed their relationship permanently was Henry’s support of their father on the Elizabeth issue. It had been one betrayal too many and once Matthew had made his escape from the oppressive family home he had cut ties with his brother as well as his father.

  Elizabeth, the woman he’d been persuaded into marrying. She had been the daughter of Lord Mewbry, a viscount from the next county over. Lord Mewbry was a wealthy man, a man in possession of a daughter with a huge dowry. A dowry his father had been coveting for years. At the age of eighteen he’d been informed he was betrothed to Elizabeth, instructed that they would marry a few months later. As usual he’d been given no say in the matter, just a firm instruction of how his life would turn out.

  For a few weeks he’d convinced himself it was his duty, his contribution to the family. Then he had begun making subtle enquiries about his betrothed. What he found out had horrified him. Elizabeth was ten years his senior, never married and by all accounts had the mind of a child. He’d returned straight to his father and refused the match.

  Three weeks later they were wed. His father had threatened to cut him off entirely and at eighteen that had been a terrifying prospect. His brother had told him he must step up and do his duty, provide for the family. And Elizabeth’s father had come to visit, telling him that a marriage between them was the only way to protect Elizabeth. He was determined to see her married and the only other option was for Elizabeth to marry Matthew’s father. Of course it had all been manipulation, he could see that now.

  It had been the biggest mistake of his life. The marriage had been in name only, he’d refused to consummate their union, and for the six months of their marriage he had tried to do penance for his weakness of being unable to stand up to his father by giving Elizabeth a comfortable life. He’d employed a companion, a kind and patient woman from the village, and had ensured she wanted for nothing, but still she had been unhappy, nervous in her new surroundings. Six months after they had married Elizabeth had suddenly dropped down dead while walking out in the garden. No one could explain why.

  The relief that came after, the feeling of freedom, was another thing to feel guilty for and that had been when Matthew had decided to step away from the family. He’d been bullied and controlled for the last time and was determined to make his own way in the world.

  Even over a decade later he still felt guilty when he thought of Elizabeth. He should have been stronger, should have refused the union. Never again would he be pushed into something he knew wasn’t right and never again would he make the mistake of thinking he was fit to care for someone.

  In the distance he heard the happy chatter of his nieces, their voices pulling him back to the present, and felt a sudden pang of sadness. They were alone in the world...they’d lost the people who should be ensuring their happiness. He knew how that felt.

  ‘Rowlands, would you excuse me?�
�� he said, slipping from the back of his horse. ‘I’ve remembered something important.’

  ‘Not a problem, my lord. I’ll take your horse back to the stable. We can ride the perimeter another day.’

  Matthew nodded his thanks, already halfway down the path. He was almost running by the time he reached Miss Salinger and his nieces and had to stop abruptly so as not to barrel into them.

  ‘Is anything amiss, my lord?’ Miss Salinger had a note of real concern in her voice.

  ‘Yes, I mean, no.’

  ‘Lord Westcroft?’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Theodosia said, reaching up and taking his hand. ‘We haven’t finished playing yet. There’s still time for you to join us.’

  ‘I’m not sure...’ Miss Salinger said.

  He turned his sunniest smile on the governess and saw with satisfaction how she took a deep breath as she looked at him. Crouching down, he took Theodosia by the hand.

  ‘You’re right, I was worried I had missed out on all the fun,’ he said, giving her a conspiratorial wink.

  ‘Missed out?’ Miss Salinger echoed.

  ‘Hide and seek, wasn’t it?’

  ‘You want to play?’

  ‘Of course he does, Miss Salinger,’ Theodosia said slowly as if talking to someone who had lost their wits. ‘Who wouldn’t want to play hide and seek?’

  ‘People with no legs, people with no eyes. Grumpy people...’ Priscilla said to list under her breath.

  ‘I want to play,’ Matthew said and with that admission he felt the weight of responsibility lift from his shoulders briefly.

  ‘Priscilla and I will count, you both hide,’ Theodosia instructed.

  ‘Separately,’ Miss Salinger confirmed.

  Theodosia shrugged as if she didn’t much care, promptly covered her eyes and started counting.

  Matthew looked around. He wasn’t sure how long he had, but the garden provided a wealth of hiding places. A youth spent trying to avoid his father meant he had expert knowledge of hidden places all round Manresa House.