His brows lowered. “Me?”
Her face heated. “I don’t know anyone here, and it would be nice to have one friendly face.”
“You think I have a friendly face?” His voice could not convey more surprise.
She looked directly at him. No, he didn’t have a friendly face. His expression was too cold, his gaze too piercing. “You do when you laugh. Right now you look—” She tilted her head to one side. “Rather sour, as if you’d just eaten something you didn’t like.”
His lips twitched. “You don’t pull your punches, do you?”
“Should I?”
“No. Not with me.” He regarded her for a moment, then said abruptly, “You are afraid to speak to the earl.”
“No . . . yes. I mean, I—I don’t know him and I must have his help.”
“For what?”
She shook her head. “It’s a complicated story and I—Please, if you could just stay until I’ve had a chance to speak to the earl. It would be comforting to know we had a way back to our carriage.” She wondered at her sudden lack of spirit. I’m just tired. I need to collect myself; Michael would never be so foolish.
“I told you that I must go. Erroll will see to it that you’re taken to your carriage.” He turned away to climb into the seat.
She placed a hand on his arm. “Wait. Please.”
He looked down at her gloved hand before turning to face her. “I am not staying.”
“I know, but . . . perhaps you could help me in another way. What do you know of the earl?”
He shrugged. “Just what I’ve heard.”
“Is he kind?”
The coachman’s expression hardened. “No.”
“Oh.” That was too bad. “I don’t suppose you have any hints as to how to best approach him? It could be difficult, as I’ve never met him before.”
The green eyes narrowed and she wished he would remove that muffler that hid so much of his face. “You should have thought of that before you came.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” she returned, her tone sharp. “It’s very important.”
The green eyes assessed her head to foot. Finally, he said, “Just tell him the truth . . . if you can.”
“Of course I can,” she said with a touch of asperity. “I’m not a storyteller, Mr.—” She waited expectantly, but all he did was shrug.
Her jaw tightened, a flash of irritation making her snap, “Fine. Thank you for your assistance in making the trip here. I suppose it’s too much to expect you to offer to do more.” She spun on her heel to march off.
“Hold.” The softly spoken word halted her in her tracks.
She turned back to face him.
“I know one thing about the earl.”
“What?”
“He cannot stand a woman who is anything other than meek.”
She curled her nose. “Meek? How archaic.”
His eyes seemed to twinkle, though she was certain it was a trick of the pale light. “The Hays are an old family. Perhaps he’s merely acting as he was taught.”
“That makes sense.”
“Yes, it does. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be off.”
“Of course. Oh, wait. I almost forgot.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out her purse to fish out two shillings. It was a dear sum, but a bargain was a bargain. She grasped his wrist and turned his hand palm up, ignoring the way her heart immediately began to gallop as if yearning to run straight toward him. Such a curious reaction! Am I affected by green eyes? I’ve certainly never seen any that color.
She placed the shillings in his gloved hand. “Your payment.”
His long fingers curled over the coins. “Of course. I would have hated to have hunted you down and”—his gaze flickered over her in a way she was totally unused to—“demand payment.”
For some reason, the thought of being “hunted down” by this man did not raise a feeling of alarm, but of shivery pleasure. “I am not a woman to avoid paying what is due.”
“I didn’t think you were.” He glanced over her head toward the castle, then bent low. “One more word of caution: the earl has a temper. Do not cross him.”
“No! I have to be meek and watch for his temper? What a termagant.”
“You can’t say you weren’t warned. Now, I must be off.” He turned and climbed into the coach seat beside his assistant, his cloak flapping damply in the snow.
Mary watched the coach jerk into motion and cross the courtyard toward the stables. No doubt their rescuer desired to rest his horses before he continued home.
Where was his home? Was it close by? Would he be close by? An unsettling sweep of yearning swept over her. His presence had made her feel safe, which was utter nonsense. I don’t even know his name.
“Miss? May we go in?” Abigail called. “I’m chilled to the bone, I am.”
“Of course.” Embarrassed she’d forgotten her maid, Mary hurried to the woman’s side. “Good evening,” she said to the footman. “We would like to see the earl. ’Tis a matter of grave import.”
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Much Ado About Marriage Page 32
