Stephanie Laurens - A Lady of His Own

“But I really can’t stay, my boy—oh!” She lifted a hand to her bosom. “It’s so hard to think of you as the earl. Such a tragedy—first Frederick, then poor dear James. I’ve no idea how your mother kept her sanity—so brave, she was. But at least you survived and are here to take up the reins. I never did think to be ‘my lording’ you, bent on every dangerous venture as you were.”

“Such are the vagaries of fate,” Charles murmured, well aware that as part of those vagaries, her ladyship’s daughter, while still styled countess, would not be the mother of the next earl.

“To what do I owe this honor?” he asked as he guided Lady T into the hall.

“I’m holding a small party tomorrow night—just the usual crowd, those of us who haven’t gone up to town—and I expressly wished to invite you . It’ll be an excellent opportunity for you to get to know us better. Why”—she fixed him with a stern look—“what with one thing and another, we’ve hardly set eyes on you since you returned from Waterloo.”

His most charming smile to the fore, he bowed. “Tomorrow night will suit admirably.”

Her ladyship blinked, then beamed, having, it seemed, been girded for battle. “Excellent! Well, then—”

She broke off, following the direction of his gaze as he glanced to the rear of the hall.

The baize-covered door swung open, and Penny came through. She saw him—he’d positioned Lady T so the stairs blocked Penny’s view of her.

Penny smiled. “There you are.” She came forward.

Lady T leaned across and peered around the stairs. “Penelope?”

For one fraught instant, the two ladies stared at each other, speculation clearly rife in both their minds. Then Penny’s smile, which hadn’t faltered in the least, widened; she continued smoothly toward them.

“Lady Trescowthick! How lovely to see you. I hope you haven’t looked for me at Wallingham—I’ve been here all morning consulting with Mrs. Slattery over a recipe for quince jelly Tante Marissa gave me—it just won’t come right.”

Charles inwardly grinned; she was really very good at necessary lies.

Lady T offered her cheek to be kissed; Penny had known her since childhood. “I know just how difficult that recipe is—my chef Anton swore it was impossible, and he’s French, after all! But indeed, it’s fortuitous I caught you here, my dear—I’d intended to call at Wallingham on my way home. I’m giving a party tomorrow evening, and I’ve just inveigled Charles here into attending, and you must come, too, of course.”

Penny kept her smile in place. “I’ll be delighted. It’s been rather quiet since Elaine and the girls went up to town.”

“Indeed! I’m sure I don’t know why—” Lady Trescowthick broke off, raising a hand in surrender. “But we won’t retread that argument. For whatever reasons you dislike the ballrooms, you’re here, and must come tomorrow night.” She turned to the door. “Now I must be on my way. Oh—and George bumped into your relative, Arbry, yesterday, and invited him, but of course George forgot to mention you, assuming goodness knows what.”

With Charles on her ladyship’s other side, Penny saw her out of the house and into her carriage.

Lady Trescowthick leaned out of the window. “Eight sharp—none of your London ways here, Charles—Lostwithiel!” She sighed. “Will I ever get used to calling you that?”

The question was clearly rhetorical; the carriage lurched into motion. Her ladyship waved and sat back. Charles stood beside Penny on the steps, hands raised in farewell.

“Quince jelly?” he murmured.

“Your mama’s recipe is justifiably famous. Why the devil did you send for me?”

“I sent the message before Lady T arrived.” Just before.

The carriage was gone; turning, he waved Penny into the house. “I wanted to discuss how best to achieve an adequate watch on Nicholas.”

She was mollified. “Have you thought of something?”

“Several somethings.” He walked beside her to his study door and held it open. “Indeed, Lady T confirmed some of my thoughts.”

“Oh?”

He followed her into the room, leaving her to settle in the chair before his desk while he rounded it and sank into the chair behind. Leaning back, he met her gaze. “You need to return to Wallingham.”

She narrowed her eyes. Her lips started to form the word No , then she changed her mind. “Why?”

“Because you can’t stay here for at least two powerful reasons. And also because you should be there, for a few more excellent reasons.”

Her eyes were like flints. “What are the two reasons I can’t stay here?”

“One, because visitors like Lady T are going to start turning up on the doorstep with distressing regularity. Far from dissuading them, the fact Mama is not in residence will only make them more determined to ensure I’m…doing whatever it is they think I should be doing. Like Lady T, they have difficulty viewing wild and reckless me as the earl.”

She made a dismissive sound. “That’s their problem.”

“But it’s also likely to be our problem because, of course, while dear Nicholas could be fobbed off with Cousin Emily, I wouldn’t like to mention her supposed existence to Amarantha Trescowthick, or indeed any of Mama’s other friends. They’ve all known each other far too long, and, witness Lady T’s descent—she knew I was here—are clearly in communication.”

Her eyes remained narrowed; her lips thinned. “I’m twenty-nine, and your mother’s goddaughter. There’s an entire regiment of staff in this house, all who know me nearly as well as they know you.”

Unperturbed, he responded, “Your age is immaterial—in the same way they still think of me as a wild and reckless youth, they see you as no more than twenty-three if that. And while you might be Mama’s goddaughter, Mama is not here—that being the pertinent point. Lastly, everyone knows this house is huge and come nighttime, all the servants are in the attics, and it’s over nighttime that imaginations run amok.”

He held her gaze. “Regardless of any excuses, should the ladies of the district learn of you sharing my roof with no chaperone in sight, there’ll be hell and the devil to pay. Despite—or perhaps because of—my legendary wildness, that is not a scenario I wish to court.”

The look she threw him was disdainful. “I don’t regard that as a reason of any great weight. But you said there were two powerful reasons—what’s the second?”

He held her gaze for three heartbeats, then evenly stated, “Because, should you remain under this roof, I seriously doubt I’ll be able to keep my hands off you.”

She stared at him, and stared, her features expressionless while she decided how to respond. Eventually, she said, “You’re joking.”

More an uncertain question than a statement. He shook his head.

Her lips thinned again; exasperation filled her eyes, still searching his. “You’re just trying to…bully me into doing as you wish.”

He didn’t shift his eyes from hers. “If you think I’m bluffing, by all means call me on it.” He paused, then added, “If you remain here, I can assure you that you’ll end beneath me in my bed or yours, whichever is closer at the time, within three nights.”

Penny managed not to gape. What she could read in his eyes, what she could feel reaching for her across the polished expanse of his desk…she could barely breathe. “You’re serious.” The faint words were more for her than him, a point he seemed to realize; he didn’t respond. She drew a tight breath. “I don’t think that’s at all fair.”

He smiled. Intently. “At least I’ve given you fair warning.”