Attracted to the Earl

by Bronwen Evans

  Since becoming the earl, Guy had made Kit more than his valet, he was now Guy’s man of business too. Reginald had also had a man of business and Guy maintained Mr. Mathis’s employment, but already Kit and Mathis were trying to mark their territories like two rampaging bulls. Guy needed Mathis on his side. He was not sure how much Reginald had shared about Guy’s affliction with him and if he let the man go would Mathis reveal personal information to Guy’s enemy?

  Guy lined up his next shot and was just about to jab it with his cue when there was a knock on the billiard room door and his butler, Giles, entered. “My lord”—Guy was still not used to this form of address—“there is…a person downstairs who insists on seeing the earl. She says she has an appointment.”

  Kit’s eyebrow rose. “It starts. Women appearing at your door to trap the earl in marriage.”

  Guy sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous. My mother is in residence.” He looked blankly at Giles. “That is proper, is it not?”

  Giles bowed. “Yes, my lord. However, what should I do with the young lady?”

  Both men said at the same time, “Young?”

  “Well, it is a tad hard to tell since she is soaking wet. Apparently the stagecoach dropped her at Little Walden and she has walked the five miles in the rain. Very odd. Very inappropriate if you ask me. She should have waited until the morning and Old Tom would have brought her and her luggage.”

  “Were you expecting a young lady?” Kit asked Guy.

  “No.” He threw the cue on the billiard table. “I best go and greet our guest.” He made his way downstairs with Kit following close behind. As he descended the stairs he peered over the banister and almost laughed. He’d never seen a person so sodden or bedraggled, and he’d been in the army. The water dripping from her cape had created a large puddle at her feet.

  As he walked toward her she pushed back the hood of her cape and a flicker of appreciation seeped through his blood. He and his body took note that she was not as young as Giles thought, closer to thirty than twenty, likely experienced. It had been months since he’d been with a woman. He tried to bring his father’s image to mind to dampen down the instant lustful ache in his body. Yet all his male instincts flared to life.

  Although her hair was plastered round her face, her high cheekbones and cute button nose, combined with plump luscious lips, drew his gaze. He stopped before her, barely noticing that his shoes were now standing in a puddle of water. Intelligent eyes surveyed him before she bowed her head to him and gave a brief curtsey.

  “My lord, I’m Miss Abigail Pinehurst, a pleasure indeed to meet you at last. My apologies for being a week late, but the weather during my journey from Scotland was atrocious. I was hoping you’d received my note explaining my delay. Your butler here does not appear to have been expecting me but I have my letter of introduction from Lady Calthorpe.”

  Guy stared at the semi-dry parchment she held out to him and that gut-wrenching fear a note always evoked hit him and the lust igniting in his body dissolved. Kit stepped forward to take it and read it. Guy noted her frown and confusion. “I’m sorry, I thought you were the earl,” she said to him.

  “I am,” Guy replied, and she looked even more confused.

  He had no idea who on earth Miss Abigail Pinehurst was but he would not at all mind getting to know her. For a moment he wondered if he had received a letter from her and forgotten to give it to Kit to read.

  At his silence her smile faltered and she wiped a hand down her sodden cape, either from nerves or cold.

  “You are Lady Calthorpe’s protégée, I see. She has provided an introduction. You wish to draw plants?”

  She turned to address Kit’s question. “One plant. But surely you know this.” She turned back to Guy. “You said so in your previous letter. I realize our arrangements were made over a year ago, but I explained I would be in Ireland until the beginning of this year and I have been in Scotland since then.”

  Guy noticed she was shivering. “This can wait.” He nodded his head at Giles and the butler stepped forward and took the sodden cape from her. “Excuse my manners, Miss Pinehurst. I think it prudent to get you into some dry clothes before we continue this conversation.” He said to Giles, “Please show our guest to a bedchamber, and organize a bath for her. Do you need dry clothes, Miss Pinehurst?” Even though it was summer, it was drafty in the house and she was still shivering. He noted the small carpetbag she carried was wet through. Before she could say a word, he added, “Giles, perhaps some dry clothing could be found for Miss Pinehurst. I’m sure there must be some of my sister’s garments that she left behind when she wed.” They looked similar in size, though Miss Pinehurst was taller.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  As she made to follow Giles, Guy added, “Perhaps you would like to join me for supper in the dining room in, shall we say, an hour and a half?”

  Her tantalizing smile was back on her face. God, her plump lips drew him like a feast to a starving man. “Thank you, my lord.”

  With that Guy watched as she followed Giles up the stairs, nicely rounded hips swinging seductively. He was astounded to note that the skirt of her gown was actually a flap that covered, of all things, a pair of trousers. Lust returned with a vengeance.

  He must have stood staring for quite some time because an amused Kit dug him in the ribs. “I’ve had to clear my throat three times. Quite a beauty, isn’t she. Not many women could make a drowned rat look so enticing.”

  Guy felt his face flush. “She thinks I’m Reginald. I wonder what her relationship with my brother is? They obviously have never met.”

  “You’d think Lady Calthorpe would have heard of the bereavement,” Kit suggested. “I suppose if Miss Pinehurst has been traveling she may not have received all her correspondence.”

  “She must have made arrangements with Reginald. I’ll see if mother can recall anything.”

  “It says here Miss Pinehurst is quite the scholar, having been through Mrs. Wakefield’s School of Industry in London, even doing some of the illustrations for Mrs. Wakefield’s children’s books.”

  “Great. Just what I need here when cousin Patrick arrives. A scholar. Another person to hide my deficiencies from.” He hated the lying and deception.

  “I don’t like coincidences. If Reginald invited her, why wait so long? I would have said she was respecting the mourning period; however, she seems not to know. Why is she turning up just before Patrick Neville? Strange. We could always use Patrick as an excuse to suggest now is not the time for her visit.”

  Guy turned away at the mention of his brother. He missed Reginald. Missed him like the devil. A burst appendix was the cause of his death. Life was so arbitrary. Guy had spent years fighting in wars and survived what should have been a mortal blow, and his brother died sitting safely at home.

  Kit read the letter in his hand. “Lady Calthorpe assures us that Miss Pinehurst’s schooling has been thorough. She has been taught appropriate manners and to speak well.” He broke off. “She does carry herself with confidence as if she were upper class, but she can’t quite hide the common accent beneath. She’s also not as young as I’d imagined from Giles’s description. Closer to thirty perhaps?”

  “Yes, indeed. You think she could be trying to impersonate someone?” Guy asked.

  Kit shrugged. “Why pick the Argyle estate?” Patrick’s forthcoming visit was making everyone uneasy. “We won’t know until we talk to her. Let’s return to our billiard game and bottle our curiosity until supper.”

  * * *

  —

  Abigail was thankful she’d asked the servant who had helped her with her bath and dressing to wait to lead her back to the dining room. While she’d spent time in wealthy homes before, this house was enormous and she was already lost. The servant stopped outside the dining room and she could hear the men talking inside. Although she was not one to be normally nervous, the idea of dining with his lordship saw a swarm of butterflies dancing in her stomach.

 
She hated feeling trapped. Hated how lack of money, and the pesky need to survive, still made her vulnerable to men like Patrick Neville. But most of all she hated the idea of spying on a family just out of mourning.

  During her trip from Scotland to Cambridgeshire she’d wracked her brain to think of some way out of her predicament. It annoyed her that she could not find one that would not end up with her and Dora destitute. Besides, she loved her position with Lady Calthorpe. Discovering, studying, and drawing plants was a dream come true compared to her past.

  She raised her hand to knock but hesitated. She’d thought about what the Earl of Argyle would look like. She’d pictured him older, haughtier, and certainly not handsome. Her body heated. “Handsome” was perhaps too tame a word. He was—glorious. Tall, broad-shouldered, lean—no fat on him at all, just lean muscle. A man of action, most definitely.

  Patrick Neville’s command of getting close to the earl flashed in her head. She thought to do so would be easy. The earl’s greeting suggested he was a man who admired women and she was certain most would welcome his attentions. However, the idea of Patrick thinking she’d sleep with the earl simply because he wanted her to made her ill.

  She ran her hands over the skirt of her gown; it was exquisite, and something she would normally hate to wear. She liked her specially made trouser skirts. When striding through countryside, trousers were far more convenient. So it was strange that the feel of the material and the style of her borrowed gown should entice her. She’d never worn such a beautiful gown. For once she could almost believe she was a lady. A lady without the worries of the world upon her shoulders.

  She took a deep breath and reminded herself that it didn’t matter what the earl thought of her. His brother had already given her permission to sketch the Epipogium aphyllum, the Ghost Orchid. If she pretended she didn’t realize his brother had died, then how could he refuse her?

  The Ghost Orchid was her means to a secure future. That’s if it flowered this summer. Lady Calthorpe had heard it had been seen on the Argyle estate and had arranged for her to draw it. The orchid sometimes did not appear for ten or more years and was extremely rare to find in England. But it seemed to love the Argyle estate’s oak tree forest.

  Managing to subdue the violent flutters raging in her empty stomach, she’d just lifted her hand to knock when Giles arrived at her side.

  “Let me announce you, Miss Pinehurst.” With that he knocked and entered the room and did just that.

  She stepped round him to find the earl rising to his feet, as was the other man with him. She had hoped to meet her ladyship, his mother, who had enthusiastically corresponded with Lady Calthorpe about the plant, but the men were the only people sitting at the table.

  The earl strode toward her. “Welcome, Miss Pinehurst. Do please take a seat,” and he pulled out a chair for her. “You may serve now, Giles.”

  Her face flushed with heat. The first thing that struck her was his bold, incredibly blue eyes. They were hypnotizing, all seeing, and yet filled with kindness.

  Confounded by his unexpected impact on her senses, Abigail stood staring before she realized they were waiting for her to sit. She sat as requested and hoped she could remember Lady Calthorpe’s lessons regarding table manners. She used the cutlery from the outside in, if she remembered correctly. From the gutter to an earl’s table—if only her mother could see her now.

  “My mother sends her apologies.” The earl interrupted her thoughts. “A headache has seen her indisposed for the day but I’m sure she is looking forward to meeting you tomorrow. I hope your room meets with your approval?”

  Approval? She’d not slept in such a fine room for—well, ever. “It’s perfectly lovely, thank you.”

  The conversation halted as the servants lay plates and plates of food on the table. So much food for only three people. She’d forgotten how wasteful the rich were.

  “Tomorrow if it is sunny, I shall send for your belongings.” The other man, still standing, cleared his throat. “Oh, how rude, excuse me, Miss Pinehurst. May I introduce Mr. Christopher Hunter, my—man of business and good friend.”

  “Good evening, Miss Pinehurst. Please call me Kit. Let’s eat. I’m sure you are tired from your travels, and you will want to retire shortly.”

  “If I am to call you Kit, you must call me Abigail. Both of you.”

  “And I am Argyle or Guy, whichever you prefer.”

  She nodded at his lordship but thought it wise to keep to formality with a man of his standing, but the genuine kindness behind his smile eased her anxiety somewhat.

  Mr. Hunter was also smiling but he was dark to the earl’s light. He too was handsome but with a raw edge to him. He spoke well. She wondered at his background. The lines on Mr. Hunter’s face made his striking features more stark, and foreboding, even though his smile appeared genuine. However, she could tell he was sizing her up, but he gave nothing away regarding what he thought.

  “I would like to have an early night, thank you for being so considerate. I can’t wait to rise in the morning and start exploring Brentwood Forest.” The earl looked at her as if she were mad. “Where the orchid was seen last year.”

  They sat blankly staring at her. She hoped she had not overplayed her hand. She clasped her hands in her lap, hidden under the table, and prayed she could lie convincingly. “You have not changed your mind? I am still invited to hunt for the Ghost Orchid?”

  “Oh, that is why you are here, for an orchid,” Mr. Hunter exclaimed.

  “I wrote to his lordship and you said to come.”

  The two men exchanged looks before the earl softly said, “You wrote to my brother, Reginald. He died unexpectedly just on a year ago.”

  Chapter 4

  Abigail gave a convincing gasp. “I’m so sorry, I had not heard. I have been moving around the past months and have not received any mail. I’m sure Lady Calthorpe would have told me. What must you think of me? If I’d known…” That sounded plausible. She’d really come ahead in the rain to ensure that the situation was safe for Dora to join her.

  Because of Patrick Neville she’d had to race straight here, two days of traveling in the rain. But regardless of Patrick’s threat, she would never put Dora in any danger.

  “Oh, I do apologize, my lord. I would never have come if I— That is, I am so sorry for your loss.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “I shall collect my things and leave.” She prayed he would not agree.

  “There is no need for that. Please sit. You have had a long, tiring day. We shall discuss your situation in the morning. Besides, the rain has not ceased. I cannot, in good conscience, turn you out into this dreadful weather in the dark.”

  She looked between the two men and they were both smiling, they did not seem to be upset at her visit. She retook her seat and picked up her fork and began to eat. Her nerves were still on edge, but at least he had not thrown her out. She hated to think what Patrick might do to her or Dora if she failed. Patrick’s threat of ruining her hid the fact that he could do a lot more than socially ruin her. She understood the monster he truly was.

  “So that is why you are here, for a flower?” Mr. Hunter asked.

  “Yes, and to catalog the library.”

  His lordship stopped eating. “The library?”

  “Yes. Your brother wanted the library cataloged and any valuable editions noted. But I’m more excited about the Ghost Orchid. I have been commissioned by Lady Calthorpe, my benefactor, to draw it. That is, if it flowers this year. Mrs. Wakefield may even use the illustration in her latest book.”

  “This flower is important, it would seem.” The earl smiled at her and continued eating.

  “Yes. I’ll be the first person to draw the Ghost Orchid if it appears.” Conscious of the somber news the earl had just shared she tried to dampen down her excitement. But the opportunity to draw the Ghost Orchid would lead to more and more commissions, and Lady Calthorpe would likely continue to be her benefactor. Even if Lady Calthorpe didn’t wish
to continue to support her, Abigail would be in demand. It would secure her future—Dora’s future.

  For a woman with her lack of means, she’d had to focus on the future. She had no choice but to ensure she could make an honest living and still be able to save for her old age. Benefactors like Lady Calthorpe were often fickle—and worse still, benefactors were few and far between—unless she was famous, and the Ghost Orchid would raise her name onto every botanist’s list.

  “You have been in the Scottish Highlands, I believe?” Mr. Hunter asked.

  “Yes, for six months. Lady Calthorpe wanted a drawing of a particular plant and I was lucky enough to be sent.”

  “It must have been quite the adventure,” Mr. Hunter said. “Very brave.”

  She blinked at his comment. Brave? She had not really considered herself as brave. She simply did what was needed to survive. “Scotland is rather civilized now. I was never in any danger, except perhaps from the cold.”

  Mr. Hunter gave a deep chuckle.

  She’d been safer in Scotland than in the place she’d grown up in. She hated how the old memories still tore her apart if she let them. There she had friends too, but they were much too focused on their own survival to help her. It was only through Mrs. Wakefield, and then her benefactor, Lady Calthorpe, that she’d escaped her nightmare. She did everything Lady Calthorpe asked of her because if she didn’t…well, she did not know where she would end up, but she was sure it would be worse than where she was today. Much worse. And she had Dora to think of.

  She looked at the two handsome men she was dining with, in a gown made for a princess, and thought that life, for now, was fabulous. Patrick Neville’s ugly face swam into view in her head. Don’t get too comfortable.

  “Mother will be fascinated to hear about the orchid and I’m sorry to say she’ll likely want to help in the search. She loves plants. That is probably why Reginald agreed to allow you access.”

  Her nerves stopped their running game through her body at his lordship’s words. It sounded as if he would let her stay. “I’m sure I will enjoy her ladyship’s help and knowledge of the area. However, I suspect you’ll be the one to show me through the library. Specifically the Latin volumes on Galileo.”