His Wicked Embrace

by Adrienne Basso

  “Since I have no notion of how long I will be forced to wait, I would appreciate your company, Mr. Jenkins. Thank you.”

  Once they were inside the inn, Isabella was glad she had accepted the servant’s assistance. The taproom was noisy and crowded, with an almost exclusively male clientele. A quick perusal of the area confirmed there were no unaccompanied women seated in the room.

  Miraculously, Jenkins was able to secure a relatively private table in a corner of the crowded room. After a few moments, a harassed-looking barmaid came to their table.

  “So what will you be having today?” she asked in a bored voice.

  Isabella’s stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and she realized she had not eaten since early morning. “I would like a pot of tea and something substantial to go with it.”

  “We don’t have anything fancy, but the cook could fix you a cold plate, with whatever meat, cheese, and bread we have left.”

  “That would be fine.” Turning to the man sitting next to her, Isabella inquired graciously, “Would you care for some tea also, Mr. Jenkins? Or perhaps a pint of ale?”

  “I prefer ale.”

  After a considerable wait, the barmaid brought their refreshments. As Isabella lifted the heavy earthenware teapot and slowly poured herself a cup of tea, she became aware of the intense scrutiny of her companion.

  “Do I look so very much like her, Mr. Jenkins?” Isabella inquired casually, while cutting a wedge of cheddar cheese. She delicately sank her strong white teeth into the tasty morsel and waited for a response.

  Jenkins’s face revealed his surprise at her direct question, but he did not pretend to misunderstand Isabella’s remark.

  “You do bear a distinct resemblance to the countess, miss,” Jenkins replied, “especially the unusual color of your eyes. I can understand how the earl might have mistaken you for Emmeline. It was a credible mistake given the earl’s condition.”

  “His condition?” Isabella remained silent for a few thoughtful moments and then nodded her head philosophically. “I strongly suspected there was something different about the earl. He was absolutely relentless in his insistence about my being Emmeline, and he acted in a most irrational manner. He was also excessively forceful and demanding toward me and my former employers.” Isabella leaned in closer and whispered sympathetically, “The earl is unbalanced, isn’t he, Mr. Jenkins?”

  “Unbalanced?” Jenkins’s face broke into a broad smile when he caught Isabella’s meaning. “The earl is not addle-brained miss, if that is what you are implying. He was merely drunk.”

  “Drunk?” Isabella shook her head vigorously. “I am certain you are wrong. I can tell from experience when someone is inebriated. My stepfather had a great fondness for drink. I am quite sure I would have known if the earl was drunk.”

  “I am not very proud to confess I spent the better part of last night emptying three bottles of brandy with the earl. Believe me, he was under the hatches when he first spotted you in the park this morning.”

  Isabella raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Does the earl often spend his evenings drinking with his servants?”

  “I am his friend, miss, as well as his valet,” Jenkins replied with obvious pride in his voice. “And no, the earl does not often spend his time drinking.”

  “What was so special about last night?”

  Jenkins slowly set his half-empty tankard down on the table before answering. “We packed up the London town house yesterday. The earl was forced to sell it, and I think that bothered him a good deal more than he figured it would.”

  “He has pressing gambling debts?” Isabella could not keep the hint of scorn from her voice.

  “These debts are not of his own doing,” Jenkins responded defensively. “These obligations were incurred long before the earl assumed his title. Being an honorable man, he is determined to repay them.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Isabella countered, hearing the note of indignation in the servant’s voice. She could tell that her slur on the earl’s character had insulted the valet. She was intrigued by the servant’s unwavering loyalty. And by his admission that the earl was his friend. “It was not my intention to offend you, Mr. Jenkins. However, my ghastly experience with the earl today causes me to naturally assume the worst in his case.”

  “What happened?”

  “The earl accosted me in the park this morning, insisting I was Emmeline, and when I informed him that he was wrong, he followed me to my place of employment. He shocked my employers with his outlandish accusations and then practically dragged me to Lord Poole’s house where, thank goodness, the earl finally realized his mistake. Unfortunately for me, this realization came a bit too late. Thanks to the earl’s overactive imagination and inebriated condition, I have been dismissed from my position as governess. Now I shall be forced to rely upon the begrudging charity of my family until I am able to secure another post.” Isabella’s troubled expression conveyed how distressed she truly was over the circumstances.

  “You certainly don’t look like any governess I’ve ever met,” Jenkins blurted out. Up close, the fine porcelain skin and aristocratic features of Isabella’s lovely face were striking.

  “Unfortunately, you are not the only one who holds that opinion, Mr. Jenkins,” Isabella admitted honestly. “In addition, my references are almost nonexistent. I am afraid this time it will be a very long search for a new post.”

  There was no trace of complaining in her voice, merely acceptance of the reality of the situation. As Jenkins watched Isabella chew relentlessly on a tough piece of meat, an idea began to form in his mind.

  “Perhaps I might be able to assist you in finding a position, miss,” Jenkins said in a tentative voice. “I happen to be acquainted with a family that is sorely in need of a governess. And I don’t believe they would be too concerned over your lack of references.”

  Isabella’s eyes lit with interest. “Do you truly think I might be suitable for this post, Mr. Jenkins?”

  “Yes, miss, I do.”

  The way the valet scrupulously avoided Isabella’s eyes caused her to become suspicious. “This mysterious position wouldn’t have anything to do with the earl by chance, would it, Mr. Jenkins?”

  “Well, miss,” the valet hedged, “it could be an excellent solution. After all, you just told me the earl was responsible for your dismissal. The very least he owes you is another position. And he does have two young children who are badly in need of discipline and care.”

  “I can imagine,” Isabella whispered under her breath, wondering what kind of little monsters the earl’s children were. “I strongly doubt this would work, Mr. Jenkins. Besides, it is usually the lady of the house who engages the governess. I am sure that when the countess returns, she will not be interested in the bizarre justification for my employment in her household.”

  Jenkins turned a puzzled grimace toward Isabella. “I can assure you that will not be a problem,” he stated with authority.

  “Why not?”

  “The countess is dead, miss.”

  Isabella’s fork clattered noisily to her plate. Her eyes never left Jenkins’s earnest face as she swallowed hard, forcing the dry piece of meat she had been chewing on down her throat. “I would like a full explanation, Mr. Jenkins. From the beginning, if you please.”

  Two hours later, Isabella found herself once again comfortably ensconced in the earl’s carriage, traveling at a brisk pace toward his estate in Warwickshire, not completely certain how she had allowed herself to be persuaded to make this journey. Jenkins’s portrayal of the numerous tragedies and misfortunes the earl had endured touched Isabella’s tender heart, and without taking the time to carefully consider her actions she had impulsively agreed to travel to Whatley Grange.

  However, now that her common sense was reasserting itself, Isabella was having misgivings. Whatever had possessed her to agree to such an outlandish idea? Conjuring up the earl’s steely gray eyes in her mind caused Isabella to shudder. As she re
membered her initial impression of the earl’s dangerous strength with utter clarity, Isabella’s doubts increased.

  And his kiss. The feel of the earl’s lips and the force of his hard body had totally disarmed her. How could she possible consider placing herself in his household? Jenkins had already warned her there were not many female servants in the house, but she had been so caught up in the drama of coming to the earl’s aid and helping him raise his motherless children, she did not question the valet too closely. Now she wished she had.

  The carriage stopped at a comfortable inn just as darkness approached, but there was no further opportunity for Isabella to speak privately with Jenkins. She was given a small but clean room for the night and slept fitfully.

  By the following morning Isabella was still having serious doubts about proceeding to the earl’s home. While sharing a quiet breakfast with Jenkins, Isabella debated how best to voice her doubts. She opened her mouth to express her fears just as Jenkins noisily pushed back his chair.

  “I’d best be seeing about the carriage, Miss Browning,” Jenkins stated, rising to his feet. “If the roads aren’t too muddy from all the rain, we should reach The Grange by midday.”

  Isabella quickly shut her mouth and her stomach jumped in nervous anticipation. Swallowing hard, she watched the servant leave without saying a word. Chiding herself for her cowardly behavior, she deliberately focused her thoughts away from her forthcoming confrontation with the earl. He probably wouldn’t even offer her the position, she reasoned. And even if he did, she did not have to accept it. If she felt uncomfortable in his presence, she could merely proceed to her grandfather’s estate in York and stay there until she found a suitable position. Feeling a bit less, trapped, Isabella waited for Jenkins to return.

  A shadow fell over the table, and Isabella glanced up quickly, expecting to see Jenkins. Instead, a tall, thin, fashionable dressed middle-aged matron was peering down at her with a quizzical expression on her pointed face.

  “Pray, forgive my forwardness, but I saw you breakfasting with the earl’s valet . . .” The woman’s reedy voice trailed off, and she bent her lanky frame forward to obtain a closer look at Isabella’s lovely face. She brought a gold-rimmed quizzing glass up to her eye and rudely scrutinized Isabella through the glass. “Extraordinary,” the woman whispered in awe.

  “Lady Edson.” Jenkins’s surprised cry suddenly filled the air. He approached the two women quickly, effectively interrupting before Lady Edson could say anything else to Isabella.

  “Mr. Jenkins.” Isabella gazed at the valet with undisguised relief. “Are we ready to leave?”

  Lady Edson ignored Isabella’s question completely and in a nasal voice commanded the valet, “Introduce us, Mr. Jenkins.”

  The matron listened with undisguised curiosity as the valet reluctantly complied.

  “Lady Edson, may I present Miss Isabella Browning,” Jenkins said in a formal voice. “Lord and Lady Edson are neighbors of the earl’s in Warwickshire.”

  Isabella knew she should rise to her feet and make a proper curtsy to Lady Edson but the woman’s pretentious behavior irked her. Isabella instead acknowledged the introduction with a slight nod of her head and fixed an unfriendly stare on Lady Edson, hoping the older woman would see her displeasure and take the not-so-subtle hint to leave.

  “Are you related to the late Countess of Saunders?” Lady Edson questioned Isabella, seating herself in the only available chair at the table, without waiting to be invited. “Your resemblance to Emmeline is quite marked.”

  “No, Lady Edson, I am not a relative of the late countess,” Isabella said tartly. The last thing she wanted was to encourage a conversation with the overly curious Lady Edson. And Isabella was becoming heartily sick of continually being informed of her resemblance to the earl’s deceased wife.

  “Miss Browning is the children’s new governess,” Jenkins supplied, obviously attempting to put an end to Lady Edson’s growing interest in Isabella.

  “A governess!” Lady Edson looked shocked. “You cannot mean to say you are actually going to live at The Grange, Miss Browning?”

  “I believe it is customary for a governess to reside with her charges, Lady Edson,” Isabella said, puzzled at the woman’s odd reaction.

  “Oh, my dear, I feel compelled to warn you that you are making a dreadful mistake,” Lady Edson insisted dramatically. “No respectable woman would willingly become a member of the earl’s household. Her reputation would be compromised beyond repair.”

  “Why is that, Lady Edson?” Isabella glanced over at Jenkins and saw the annoyed expression in the servant’s eyes.

  “ ’Tis common knowledge that the earl cannot be trusted to act with honor when it comes to his dealings with women,” Lady Edson announced with pompous authority.

  Isabella eyed Lady Edson thoughtfully, trying to determine if she was sincere. Jenkins had warned Isabella that the earl’s self-imposed isolation had made him a target of wild rumors concerning his treatment of women, but Jenkins had not elaborated on any of the details.

  “I assume you are speaking from personal experience, Lady Edson, when making such a serious charge?”

  “Not precisely,” Lady Edson admitted in a reluctant tone. “I have not actually spoken to the earl since his wife’s accident. But I have heard, from a most reliable source, that the earl has seduced several innocent young maids in his household.” Lady Edson leaned towards Isabella and whispered conspiratorially, “ ’Tis said that three of these poor unfortunate girls are now carrying a child.”

  Isabella sputtered loudly, nearly choking on the lukewarm chocolate she was drinking. Her face flamed with embarrassment over the outrageous statements made by Lady Edson. Even given her own biased opinion of the earl, Isabella could not credit such a tale.

  She glanced up at Jenkins. The gleam of fury in the valet’s eyes confirmed that Lady Edson’s accusations were as ridiculous as they sounded. Isabella furrowed her brow in annoyance. All her life she had encountered women like Lady Edson, who relished unsavory and damaging gossip about others and had no compunction in repeating those unverified barbs. Isabella felt ashamed to have listened to such drivel.

  Pushing aside her own doubts about the earl’s character, Isabella felt compelled to put Lady Edson in her place. She gritted her teeth and considered a variety of scathing retorts, the majority of which would have stunned and perhaps embarrassed Jenkins.

  “I do thank you, Lady Edson, for warning me of the unfair, unfounded, and clearly untrue rumors circulating about the earl. Since I, like yourself, am a woman of good breeding and impeccable manners, I shall not demean myself by responding to such blatant falsehoods.”

  “I don’t believe you understand, Miss Browning.”

  “Oh, but I do, Lady Edson,” Isabella insisted, rising to her feet. She inclined her head regally, with mocking politeness. “I understand that rumors and innuendo of this nature can actually be believed by individuals who do not possess the brains the good Lord gave them to see these rumors for the vicious lies they are. Fortunately, I possess enough common sense not to believe such rubbish. I would like to assume you do as well.”

  Lady Edson bit her lip, clearly annoyed at being so neatly outmaneuvered. There was no way to respond without looking like a fool. She cast a chilling stare at Isabella and tilted her long nose skyward. Murmuring a hasty farewell, she rose quickly, turning her back on Isabella and Jenkins. Muttering under her breath, Lady Edson strode from the table.

  Isabella seized the opportunity to make her own hasty departure.

  “What a perfectly odious woman,” Isabella muttered to Jenkins as she accepted his escort out of the inn. The valet cast a thoughtful eye at Isabella and grinned broadly.

  The journey resumed. Isabella settled herself comfortably in the coach and watched the passing countryside with distracted interest. Every time she thought about her conversation with Lady Edson, she became incensed all over again, angry at the statements made against the ea
rl. It seemed an ironic turn of fate that she would be his champion, considering all that had passed between them. But listening to Lady Edson malign the earl’s character had caused something to snap in Isabella. She knew all too well the pain of being misunderstood and unfairly judged by others.

  And yet, as the carriage carried her closer to the earl, a nagging voice inside Isabella insistently reminded her that most rumors, twisted and turned as they were, usually held a grain of truth.

  Chapter Six

  The warm sunshine improved the condition of the muddy roads, and the coach was able to travel through the western countryside at a clipping pace. To distract herself, Isabella concentrated on the scenic views outside her carriage window of rich pasturelands, grazing livestock, and lush green fields dotted by clumps of woodlands and divided by broad thorn hedges. Set back from the road on the hills, fine manor houses, in a vast array of architectural styles, peeped through the trees.

  Before reaching the earl’s estate, the carriage rode through the village of Halford. Cottages with dormer windows fronted by neatly tended walled gardens overlooked the narrow main street. Isabella was fascinated by the unusual village. It was a remote, windswept hilltop community, with red brick and gray stone houses that were clustered around a variety of spacious greens. As they rolled down the main street, Isabella’s attention was snared by a simple Tudor cottage. It was a timber-framed building with leaded windows, a tiled roof, and walls that bowed visibly with age.

  “We are approaching Whatley Grange, Miss Browning. We should arrive home within the hour.”

  Isabella’s stomach clenched at Jenkins’s innocent announcement. Now that the moment of encountering the earl was rapidly approaching, Isabella’s doubts were returning. She imagined a variety of greetings from the earl, none of which were overly pleasant.

  All too soon the carriage turned down the long gravel drive to the manor house. Even in her nervous state of anticipation, Isabella could appreciate the grandeur of Whatley Grange—an oddly modest name for such an impressive building. The vast mansion retained much of its Norman ancestry with its turrets and towers, but over the years symmetrical windows, decorative chimneys, and Renaissance ornamentation had been added to soften the fortresslike exterior. It seemed a fitting home for the earl—tall, proud, bold, and impressive. Even the gray stones of the exterior walls matched the earl’s captivating eyes.