How to Wed an Earl (6 page)

He could even buy himself another bride — if the gossip about him being “damaged” made it difficult to secure a member of the
ton
,
then perhaps some practical merchant’s daughter would be willing to marry him for his title. Someone who didn’t pose such a threat to his equilibrium or want to get too close.

He knew the dangers that resulted from letting someone too close — the madness of his parents’ marriage was proof of that. Lucas had no wish to repeat his father’s mistakes. He was still paying for them now, and his father had been dead for fifteen years. A prim, timid Society miss would pose no risk and suit his purposes better.

He wanted a staid marriage with a dutiful wife who’d bear him an heir and let him get on with his life as she went on with hers. No passionate kisses to threaten his self-control. No eager embraces and no tender caresses, no soft, hazel eyes and —

Christ.
He raked a hand through his hair and looked at Penelope once more. She glanced at him and smiled, silently reminding him of something vital he’d found out at the inn.

She’d waited for him.

He felt like a bastard for the satisfaction that flowed through his veins at the thought. Her outrage at his late entrance into her life had been real. Only skilled actresses would have been able to fake the pain behind her accusation at his tardiness.

Apparently, she knew nothing of her father’s defection. Lucas was certain the current baron knew about it, however. He intended to deal with that man as soon as possible.

He was debating how best to proceed with his plans when she waved her arm in a sweeping gesture toward a charming, two-story Palladian manor of decent proportions with ivy-covered walls. Part of the west wing of the house was used as an apothecary shop, which was now closed for the day.

“Here we are,” she remarked.

He dismounted in the front courtyard, which overlooked the open park they’d just ridden through, and held Penelope by the waist to help her off her gray gelding. As they stood facing each other, his hands seemed to develop a will of their own and roamed the lush curve, drawing her nearer to him.

“Thank you for escorting me home, Lucas.”

Her eyes shone at the mention of “home,” and he automatically bent his head to have another taste of her lips before he remembered where they were and pressed a perfunctory kiss to her forehead instead.

“It was no trouble at all, my dear.” He let her go, gave her a gentlemanly bow and mounted his black mare, which was already restlessly pawing the ground. “I’ll see you at supper. Tell your stepfather to expect me this evening.”

He left her and her dog at the courtyard, his mind working out a stratagem on how to bring about the result he wanted from this affair. He needed more information, and he was likely to get it at the inn.

• • •

Penelope headed straight for the barn after the earl left, with Nelson trailing behind her. The basic principle in caring for animals was the creatures had no concept of late nights, holidays or fiancés suddenly turning up demanding a marriage.

The animals needed her to be there for them — to feed them or groom them — rain or shine, at exactly the same time every day. Their inflexibility to deviation from the schedule was exactly what she needed right then.

Penelope put on an apron and let the chickens out of the barn so they could scratch the ground while she fed them. She watched as they clucked and flapped their wings at each other, utterly oblivious to the fact her world had just been turned upside down.

Her forgetful fiancé had finally remembered to claim her, and she didn’t know how to handle him. He’d agreed to her bargain and asked her for a kiss.

Her first real kiss.

How different a real kiss was from a fantasy one. The kiss hadn’t conjured thoughts of flower meadows, puffy clouds and castles. No, her fiancé kissed in an earthy way that dominated and possessed. His seeking mouth robbed her of any thought but kissing him back and joyfully tasting more of the sweet abandonment he offered. The kiss had been thorough, intimate and unforgettable. It made her feel needed as a woman for the first time in her life.

Until he’d come, she’d been content with her lot. She’d learned to accept she wasn’t the type of woman who roused a man’s passions. She was a puzzle piece that had all the wrong sides, unable to truly fit anywhere: somewhat engaged, somewhat connected to a baron, somewhat a country physician’s daughter.

She’d learned to stop dreaming someone would see past her less than pretty exterior and appreciate the woman beneath, and Lucas was reminding her of things she’d once been foolish enough to hope for.

He made her wish for something better when she knew it was impossible. He dangled the dream before her, making her think she could be seen as something other than merely useful. But it wasn’t real. To him, she was nothing but a name in a contract.

“You understand exactly how I feel, don’t you, boy?” she asked Nelson, who sat next to her, watching the chickens.

Nelson nudged her hand for some bread, which she obligingly gave.

“You were born to be a sheepdog, but you literally couldn’t herd a thing to save your life.” A sad laugh escaped her. “I was born to be the belle of the ball in London. And look at me now, surrounded by chickens scratching the ground at my feet and a failure of a sheepdog by my side.”

Nelson whined.

“Oh, stop that,” she admonished, patting the dog’s head to lessen the sting of the rebuke. “You have nothing to complain about. I give you a good living here, don’t I? Your previous owners would have had none of this whining. It doesn’t become you.”

She sighed and dusted the remainder of the chicken feed off her apron. “What am I to do now, boy?”

A familiar voice answered. “You could tell me what happened.”

Penelope turned and found her little sister, Sarah, approaching the barn with a bright smile on her face, looking like a ray of sunshine in her lemon yellow walking dress against the backdrop of the woods surrounding Highfield Manor.

“So?” Sarah asked when she neared the barn, her brown eyes alight with excitement. “Papa says the earl has arrived! How exciting. It’s like one of those novels we read. All we need is a villain so the earl can prove his heroic qualities.”

Penelope watched a gust of wind blow Sarah’s golden hair free of her bonnet. “This isn’t a Minerva Press novel, Sarah. We should approach with caution.”

Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Did he want to be free of the betrothal?”

“No.”

“Perfect!” Sarah clapped her hands. “So we are rich!”

“No,” Penelope corrected, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to steer the chickens back to the coop. “We’re not rich. He did, however, agree to help us convince the creditors to give us more time.”

“Did he ask for a kiss as payment for the favor? That’s what happened in
The Prince’s Castle
.”

“I’m afraid the meeting took place at The Mucky Duck, not a castle.”

“So he kissed you!” Sarah chortled. “Oh, my goodness me! That was fast, don’t you think?”

Penelope made sure the chickens were safely inside their coop before turning to Sarah. “I do not appreciate being called ‘fast,’ sister.”

Sarah clamped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Polly, I didn’t mean to say you were fast.” She started twirling her blonde curls around her finger. “I mean, considering you’ve been engaged for more than two decades and he has only now got ‘round to kissing you, well … that’s actually very slow, isn’t it?”

Penelope snorted. “Fine, I’ll forgive you this time. But you have to carry that bucket of feed back into the barn.”

Sarah grimaced. “I don’t understand why you insist we keep these chickens.” She picked up the bucket and headed for the barn door. “The horses, I understand. They were old and no one else would have them. Especially poor Jingles; he hasn’t had a good life at all.”

She heard the loud banging of the metal bucket against the barn wall as Sarah continued her diatribe. “And I appreciate how you saved Nelson from going to heaven because he couldn’t herd sheep. Even Daisy the cow at least can give us milk now that her wounds have healed. But those chickens are good for nothing!”

Sarah emerged from the barn. “They were way past the egg-laying phase when you took them from Mrs. Gray, and they’ve become too much like pets to eat now that their feathers have grown back.”

Penelope took off her soiled apron and folded it under her arm. “Well, they do help you wake up in the morning.”

“All the more reason to get rid of them.” Sarah made a face, then she took Penelope’s other arm as they started walking back to the house. “Are you ready to face Papa now?”

She took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Of course I am. The chickens merely needed feeding. It’s not as if I was hiding from him.”

Sarah looked skeptical, so she changed the subject. “Where’s Colin?”

“How would I know?” Sarah retorted.

“You’re his twin, aren’t you?” Penelope arched a brow. “I thought twins had a mystical connection or some such.”

Sarah let go of her arm and started walking briskly. “Stop teasing me about that. I’ve long given up on mentally speaking to Colin.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s obviously pure rubbish.”

“Are you certain? Perhaps we should ask him to think of a number and let you guess it again, only this time we limit the range. How about a number between one and fifty?”

Sarah waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, that’s easy enough to answer. He’d probably think of how many pairs of his shoes I put marbles in this morning.”

“Three,” Colin answered, glowering at Sarah as he leaned against the front door of the house, his dark blonde hair swaying just above his shoulders.

“Oh, there you are, Colin. Have you heard about the earl?” Sarah asked. “Polly met him when she went to the inn to give your flowers to Mari.”

Colin’s green gaze shifted to Penelope. “Yes. That’s why I came out here to meet you. Polly, does this mean I can go back to school?”

She winced. “I don’t know, Colin … I wouldn’t want to importune Lord Ravenstone with requests for that sort of thing yet. I’ve only just met the man.”
You should keep that in mind next time you throw yourself at him.

She sighed. Grandfather had died two years ago, and that’s when the family had learned of his gambling debts. All they had left now was this house, and the creditors were determined to take it, too.

Colin had to quit school, Sarah had no governess, their mother spent most of her time grinding herbs to sell at the apothecary shop, and Papa traveled farther, working longer hours, while Penelope had taken over the household management.

Part of the problem, she knew, was that Papa often worked for no pay, seeing as most of the villagers had so little in terms of financial assets.

It was a miracle some of the servants stayed, even though the family couldn’t afford to give them any more than board and lodging. If her family didn’t possess such a good sense of humor, they would be in complete despair.

“Speaking of Papa,” Penelope pressed on, “why hasn’t he summoned me yet? I thought he wanted to talk to me, and I’ve been home for two hours.”

Colin shrugged. “He was very tired when he came back from visiting a patient, so he fell asleep as soon as he sent that note to the inn.”

Something in the way he spoke made her eye him suspiciously as he stepped aside to let them into the house. “What did you do, Colin?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.” She stared at him. “Did you put something in Papa’s tea?”

“Don’t worry about it, Polly.” He grinned. “He won’t wake up until just before supper.”

Sarah guffawed, then covered her mouth with her hand and kept silent as she passed Colin in the foyer.

Penelope eyed her younger brother with mock severity before smiling reluctantly. She really couldn’t handle an interview with Papa at that moment. “Thank you, Colin. I do appreciate it.”

He winked at her. “I thought you might.”

“Well, I’m going to go change for supper,” Sarah piped up, heading for the stairs. “What’s appropriate wear for receiving an earl, Polly?”

“Just wear what you’d normally wear for supper. I talked to Lord Ravenstone in this gown and he didn’t seem to mind.”
He seemed to like it, in fact,
Penelope added silently, remembering how Lucas’s large hands had explored her this afternoon. She fought down another blush. She had to stop thinking about that.

Colin headed up the stairs as well. “We all better get ready for supper. Since Mama’s taken over the kitchen and is busy ordering Cook about, I’ve no doubt Papa won’t be happy when he wakes up. And I don’t want to be the first one he sees when he does.”

Penelope was about to follow her siblings when she realized she had to warn Lucas of what to say in front of her stepfather at supper. Or, rather, what
not
to say. Their bargain had to remain a secret, since Papa didn’t know about her arrangement with the creditors.

“You go on ahead,” she said, heading for the library. “I need to write down a few notes about the cow’s state of health. If I don’t do it now, I’m likely to forget all about it.”

She closed the library door and proceeded to compose her secret letter to the earl. The last time she’d penned a secret note to him, she’d been eighteen and heartbroken, forced to accept that he, too, had forsaken her. This time, she vowed, she’d be in control of her destiny. She felt no emotion as she continued to write.

Lucas entered Highfield Manor, his eyes drawn to the beautifully curved, cantilever stone staircase supported and framed by three long, delicate pillars, which dominated the foyer, while handing his cloak and top hat to the elderly maidservant who’d materialized at his side.

The maidservant nervously took his cloak and hat, turned and tripped over the edge of the worn rug covering most of the stone floor of the wide, dimly lit hall.

Lucas grabbed the woman’s arm to keep her from falling.

“Are you well?” he asked the old woman.

“Yes’r, m’lord earl,” the woman chimed with nervous enthusiasm. “Thank ye, kindly. I was jest … jest wantin’ to show ye into the drawin’ room.”