The Brooding Earl's Proposition

by Laura Martin

  ‘He sounds horrible,’ Theodosia said with a scowl. ‘If I ever meet him, I’ll kick him in the shins for you.’

  ‘Proper young ladies don’t kick people in the shins,’ Lord Westcroft said.

  Theodosia leaned across the space in the carriage, whispering, ‘I’ll do it anyway, for you, Miss Salinger.’

  ‘Thank you, Thea.’

  Selina sat back in her chair, feeling warmed by the fierce emotion stirred in the little girl by her predicament. Next to her she could feel Lord Westcroft’s eyes on her, but she refused to look up. She knew she risked losing all ability to think if she looked into his eyes, but even without a single glance in his direction she could feel the heat rising inside her.

  * * *

  ‘Whitby,’ Matthew announced as he helped his nieces down from the carriage. It had taken just over an hour to reach the seaside, an hour of listening to the friendly squabbling between Priscilla and Theodosia and sitting comfortably with Miss Salinger by his side. She had spent most of the journey resolutely trying not to look at him, which had been curious. Just to be perverse he had spent most of the journey trying to make her look at him. He’d always enjoyed a challenge. She’d given in about twenty minutes from Whitby when he’d made a series of ludicrous comments and she’d been unable to stop herself from turning to him to look at him with raised eyebrows. He’d given her his most winning smile and been pleased to see the flush of her cheeks and the shudder of her breath as it caught in her throat.

  He’d spent much of the rest of the journey trying to recall what he could about Miss Salinger’s father. The name Viscount Northrop was vaguely familiar, tainted with a hint of notoriety. He couldn’t remember all the details, but there had been something about an unsuitable marriage and subsequent shun from society. At some point he would get the whole truth from Miss Salinger and perhaps it would explain why she looked so sad when she spoke of her father.

  Miss Salinger looked around her appraisingly. Matthew did the same. Ever since he was a child he’d been visiting Whitby. It was a bustling town, with busy shipyards and sailors aplenty. Despite this it still had a genteel air and two beautiful sandy beaches on either side of the river. The fish sold in the markets was as fresh as it got and when his parents had entertained they’d always sent to Whitby for the seafood.

  Today it looked a little dull, with the grey sky threatening yet more rain blending in with the dark and moody sea on the horizon. Paint was peeling off the little fishing boats that bobbed nearby and everyone was going about their business hurriedly with their heads bent against the wind.

  ‘It’s charming,’ Miss Salinger said and Matthew could tell she really thought so. ‘I knew it had a booming boat-building industry, but I wasn’t aware there would be quite so many little boats. It looks quaint.’ She grimaced as a gust of wind whipped at her skirt and cloak and made Theodosia stumble a couple of steps away. ‘Although perhaps better enjoyed on a nice summer’s day.’

  ‘Let’s get ices first,’ Theodosia said, skipping with excitement. ‘There’s a shop by the harbour that Mama took us to.’

  Miss Salinger shivered. ‘Are you sure you want ices on a day as cold as today?’

  She was met by two perplexed stares.

  ‘Of course,’ Theodosia said, speaking slowly as if Miss Salinger had just recovered from a knock on the head.

  ‘Come. I think I know the place you mean.’ Matthew leaned in to Miss Salinger. ‘Never fear, they do hot coffee as well.’

  He felt unexpectedly jolly. The weather might be less than perfect for a day at the seaside, but the girls were in fine spirits and he got to spend the day with Miss Salinger. Glancing across at her as he offered the governess his arm, he felt a tingle of anticipation. He remembered the last time they’d been together, that almost kiss, the thrum of desire that had passed between them, drawing them together. It might be entirely inadvisable to try to replicate that feeling, but Matthew knew on his part at least it was inevitable.

  The girls skipped on ahead, darting backwards and forward along the esplanade as they giggled at the antics of a squabbling group of seagulls.

  ‘The trip is already a success with the children,’ Miss Salinger said, her eyes fixed on the girls in front of them.

  ‘Good. It may not be a sunny day, or warm, but I don’t think children notice these things as much as we do.’

  Miss Salinger nodded. She was biting her lip and he could tell she had something she wanted to say to him.

  ‘Why the change of heart?’ she demanded after a minute.

  ‘The change of heart?’

  ‘For nearly three months you have refused to get close to the girls, refused to get to know them. Then suddenly you’re playing hide and seek and taking them on trips to the seaside. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s confusing and, where children are concerned, you can’t keep changing the rules, especially the rules of affection.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware there were any rules of affection,’ Matthew said, his tone light.

  ‘You don’t dally with a child’s hopes. You can’t build a relationship one week and then completely ignore them again the next.’

  ‘For a governess you have a lot of opinions on what her master can and can’t do,’ he said quietly. It was a sentence meant to provoke, to raise the fire inside Miss Salinger. He loved her passion, her dedication to the happiness of two little girls she’d only known a few weeks.

  ‘Someone has to be their advocate.’

  Matthew held up free hand. ‘I don’t wish to argue about this again.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said after a pause. ‘It should be enough that we are here today.’

  ‘It should be,’ he teased. He reached across and squeezed the hand that was tucked into the crook of his arm with his free hand. ‘I realised I was forcing Priscilla and Theodosia into precisely the same childhood I had despised. One full of rules and a man at the head of the family who was more monster than father or guardian.’

  ‘You’re not a monster.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed readily, ‘but I have absolutely no idea how to raise two little girls.’

  For a man used to excelling at whatever he did it was quite the admission. These past few years he’d been extraordinarily successful, first in the navy and then building his own business. He’d excelled and enjoyed for the first time in his life not having that constant criticism that had followed him through childhood.

  ‘Most people don’t when they become parents for the first time. And you didn’t get the gradual introduction, the luxury of getting to know them little by little as they grew from baby to child. You were presented with two little girls already formed, with opinions and personalities all of their own.’

  ‘Mmm,’ he said thoughtfully.

  ‘Was your childhood truly that awful?’ Miss Salinger spoke quietly, the question surprising him.

  Normally he would laugh such an enquiry off. Over the years he’d learned to keep his past close to his chest. No one needed to hear about the bitterness he still held inside over the time his father had pitted him and his brother against each other in a sword fight, under the guise of teaching them swordplay. His brother had won and Matthew’s punishment, alongside the deep gash on his arm that still burned white when he tanned, was to be locked in the attic for three days. He’d been seven. Or the time his father had caught him by his mother’s grave, talking to her, and the old Earl had thrashed him for being weak.

  ‘It was,’ he said quietly. ‘My father was a cold man, he should never have had children, he didn’t know how to care, how to love. Henry he tolerated because he was the heir. I was inconsequential, not worth the effort.’ He paused, remembering the loneliness and solitude after his mother had died. ‘When my mother was alive she protected me to some extent, at least most of the time he wasn’t overtly cruel. When she died...’ He trailed off and shrugged.

 
They continued on silently for another few steps. To their right the sea lapped against the harbour wall and little boats bobbed up and down. Every so often a stronger gust of wind would howl through the town and made the wood of the fishing boats creak and snap.

  ‘My father was a cruel and distant man, and I hated every moment I was under his control.’ He glanced sideways at Miss Salinger. She was looking at him, her face a mixture of sympathy and anger. ‘But he’s long dead and I cannot carry round the grudges from childhood my entire life.’

  ‘Many people do,’ Miss Salinger said softly.

  ‘I saw myself the other day, when you were playing hide and seek with the girls, as the distant, cold figure sitting up on the horse. It looked far too much like my father.’

  ‘You could never be like that.’

  ‘You hardly know me, Miss Salinger.’

  ‘I think you can know someone’s character within a very short time of meeting them. You’re not cruel.’

  ‘Those girls have lost their mother and father. I cannot replace them, I cannot be what you wish me to be to them, but I can give them a safe environment to grow up in, I can provide a little merriment and adventure.’

  ‘You say you don’t know how to raise children, but I think you do. That is all they need—everything else is nice but unnecessary.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  They looked ahead to where Theodosia was swinging off the metal railing that separated the esplanade from the water in the harbour, her feet dangling precariously over the water every time she swung backwards and forward. As if one, they broke out into a run, Matthew outpacing the governess, but only a little. He pulled to a stop and looped an arm around the little girl just as the strength in her little muscles gave out and she collapsed laughing into him.

  ‘That was dangerous, little imp,’ he scolded her gently.

  ‘It was fun, though.’

  ‘Don’t think I’d go diving into the murky waters of Whitby harbour to save you if you fell in.’

  Theodosia turned her serious face to him, for once devoid of a smile. ‘Mother was teaching us how to swim, before she died. I can do a little.’

  ‘Where was she teaching you?’

  ‘The lake.’

  Matthew shivered. It was beautiful in summer, but damp and dreary this time of year.

  ‘Perhaps...’ He trailed off. He’d been about to offer to teach the girls to swim in the summer. He couldn’t make promises like that. In a few months he would be headed back to India and who knew when he would return to England again. The girls would be at least a few years older, maybe even young ladies thinking about their debuts. ‘Perhaps in the summer we could find someone to give you lessons.’

  He glanced at Miss Salinger and immediately imagined her lithe naked body submerged in the blue waters of the lake. Quickly he looked away, but he knew that image would stay with him for a long time.

  ‘Will you do it, Miss Salinger?’ Theodosia asked.

  ‘I can’t swim,’ the governess admitted. ‘Cambridge is landlocked and there never seemed to be any need for me to learn.’

  ‘You can’t swim?’ he echoed, surprised that the young woman who could seemingly master any skill hadn’t ever learned to swim.

  ‘I fell in the River Cam once, splashed around for a few seconds in panic and a passing student had to dive in and save me.’

  ‘Lucky man,’ Matthew murmured. He was besieged by a thousand images of Miss Salinger emerging dripping from the river. He knew she would have been fully clothed, but in his imagination she was clad in the white cotton nightgown he’d seen her in on her first night at Manresa House. And it was wet. And it was clinging to all the curves he knew hid under the thick wool of her clothes.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Lucky man,’ he repeated a little louder. ‘Every gentleman wishes for a chance to prove himself gallant.’

  Miss Salinger gave him a sharp look, but he just smiled serenely.

  ‘We’ve arrived,’ he said, motioning to the shop front across the street. Miss Salinger took the girls by their hands, leaving him to watch as she glided away from him, his mind still caught on the image of her emerging naked from the river.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘I’m very sorry, sir, we do not make ice cream out of season,’ the waiter said, bowing low with his apology. ‘I can offer you hot drinks and a selection of cakes.’

  Theodosia frowned as if she didn’t comprehend.

  ‘October is a little late in the year to be wanting ice cream,’ Priscilla said to her sister.

  ‘But I’ve only ever had it once before and it was delicious. I thought they always had it at the seaside.’

  ‘How about warm milk, girls? Or hot chocolate?’

  They nodded, but there was visible disappointment on the girls’ faces.

  ‘Wait here,’ Lord Westcroft said, jumping up from his seat and disappearing behind the counter. Selina marvelled at his self-assurance—only a titled man or a very wealthy one would have the audacity to walk around a serving counter in that way.

  ‘What is he doing?’ Priscilla was peering in curiosity.

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  A minute later he re-emerged, brandishing a piece of paper.

  ‘What is that?’ Theodosia asked.

  ‘The recipe for ice cream.’

  Selina frowned, wondering if he meant for the dour cook at Manresa House to try out the recipe one evening.

  ‘We have an ice house on the estate, we can get all the ingredients. The method doesn’t look too taxing.’

  Three pairs of eyes stared at him in confusion.

  ‘You mean for Cook to make it?’ Priscilla was as sceptical as Selina. ‘If you knew Cook, you’d know she’s old, mean and resistant to change.’ It was a harsh summary of the servant’s character, but Selina couldn’t deny it was accurate. ‘I don’t think even you could get her to make ice cream for dessert.’

  ‘Then we shall make it,’ he said, his tone implying it was completely normal for an earl to take over the kitchen to make ice cream.

  ‘Us?’ Priscilla asked.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Have you ever made ice cream before, Lord Westcroft?’ Selina couldn’t help but smile at the image.

  ‘No, but you forget I have the recipe.’

  She hadn’t forgotten, but for a delicacy such as ice cream she suspected there was a little more to it than measuring the right quantities of ingredients into a bowl.

  ‘You really mean it?’ Theodosia was inching to the edge of her chair, her eyes wide.

  ‘Of course. You asked for ice cream and ice cream is what you shall get.’

  ‘Can we do it tomorrow? And can we make lots of different flavours?’

  ‘Tomorrow I go away on business, but we can make it as soon as I return.’

  Selina watched as Theodosia threw herself at her uncle, settling on his lap and burying her head in the front of his jacket. It seemed he meant to continue involving himself in his nieces’ lives, at least where it didn’t interfere with his business.

  Unfair, she chided herself. Lord Westcroft was really making an effort and Priscilla and Theodosia were blooming under his attention. She had to remind herself that most parents and guardians were not as involved as her own father had been and many did go away for extended periods of time. It would be unfair to expect anything else from Lord Westcroft.

  Still, she knew the girls would feel the upheaval deeply when it was time for their guardian to leave for India.

  ‘Don’t be so foolish,’ she muttered to herself, earning her a curious look from Lord Westcroft. She felt foolish, she had told him time and time again that his involvement in the girls’ lives was the most important thing. He’d warned her he would eventually have to leave, used it as a reason for not becoming too close to them. Now he was doin
g what she wished and she was worrying about how him becoming closer to Priscilla and Theodosia might affect them when it was time for him to leave.

  The cups of hot chocolate arrived, steaming and sweet, and Priscilla and Theodosia took theirs to the window, watching the activity on the boats as they sipped the sweet liquid.

  ‘You’re hiding something from me,’ Lord Westcroft said as Selina glanced at him over the rim of her cup.

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Something about your background.’

  Selina shook her head. He already knew far more than she’d ever told anyone before. Her previous employers had assumed she was the poor but well-educated daughter of some minor gentry family, exactly what Selina had wanted them to think. Only Lord Westcroft had probed further, only he had seen through the thin veil of deception.

  ‘You know who my father was, how my brother turned me out. You know everything.’ It wasn’t quite the truth, but no one needed to share in her complete humiliation. He bowed his head and Selina saw his fingers twitch as if he were about to reach out across the table towards her. Silently she shook her head—of course he wasn’t. He was an earl, sympathetic to her background, but not about to take her hand in public to comfort her. Her thoughts were running away from her.

  ‘And your friends? They didn’t step in?’

  Selina swallowed.

  ‘I thought not,’ he murmured. ‘They didn’t know, did they?’

  ‘Why do you want to know so much?’

  Tilting his head to one side slightly, he regarded her for a minute before speaking. ‘Do you know, I’m not sure. You intrigue me, Miss Salinger, and I want to know why.’

  Selina looked into his eyes. They were dark, the deep brown of his irises almost merging with the black of his pupils, and the intensity of his gaze made her cheeks burn under the scrutiny.

  ‘You won’t give up, will you?’

  ‘No.’

  Selina toyed with the handle of the empty cup in front of her, trying to decide whether to make something up, to see if he would believe a half-truth, but even as she considered she knew he would see through any lie.