The Earl Who Loved Her (The Honorable Scoundrels Book 2) Read online

  “There’s nothing wrong with being curious,” he told her gently. He himself was finding it difficult not to be when every word she spoke made him eager to find out more about her. Clearly, this self-imposed seclusion of his was beginning to have its toll. “However,” he went on, “it is my prerogative to refrain from answering, and I intend to do precisely that.” He did not want the only person with whom he enjoyed a bit of conversation for the first time in three years to hate him as much as everyone else did. “We all have our secrets, Miss Potter. You must allow me to keep mine.”

  The gravity with which the earl spoke and the shadows darkening his eyes prompted Eve to wonder what sort of secrets he might be keeping. Her curiosity regarding this man had been gradually increasing since the moment she’d stepped into his library and laid eyes on him.

  An angular jaw and well-defined cheekbones provided his face with a rigid structure. It was not as displeasing as it might have been without the soft curve of his mouth and the dark brown warmth of his eyes. His hair, she noted, was almost black, shot through with lighter chocolate-colored tones.

  Standing tall, at least a full head above her, he exuded confidence and power, the sort that could send fear shooting through any man who crossed him, and Eve found her heart beating more rapidly than it had upon her arrival. Left alone with him to enjoy her tea and the warmth of the fire, she’d calmed her nerves with talk of her sisters and her situation without once considering how little interest a man like him would have in such matters.

  But when she’d glanced at him, he hadn’t appeared the least bit bored. Rather, he’d considered her with compassion, then brought up the country dance, which had prompted her to take leave of her senses and ask a most forward question. His response had only made her wonder more about him and why he might choose to avoid a social gathering. As far as she could tell, the house was fairly quiet. Surely his wife would have materialized by now, if he had one.

  She bit her lip and glanced around, wondering when the carriage might be ready so she could be on her way once more. However hospitable the earl was proving to be, she was certain he would prefer to return to whatever plans he might have for the evening.

  “This fireplace would be perfect for roasting chestnuts,” she said, when the silence seemed to drag on for longer than what was comfortable.

  Lord Ravenworth’s eyes filled with amusement. “Is that what you were thinking about?”

  Unwilling to tell him he’d been the subject of her musings, she quickly nodded. “The house I grew up in had an equally large fireplace. Roasting chestnuts on it was such a lovely pastime activity on cold winter days.”

  He chuckled lightly. “You’re too young to be getting nostalgic, Miss Potter.”

  “Perhaps. But the path my life has taken has made it impossible for me not to be.”

  “You sound as though you have regrets.”

  Averting her gaze, she stared into the dancing flames. “Not regrets so much as a feeling of overwhelming loss. I miss the comfort of my childhood and the simplicity of my life when both my parents lived. I miss them both terribly, and I miss the bright future my sisters and I looked forward to with innocent anticipation.”

  A knock sounded at the door, drawing her attention to the butler who had returned. “My lord,” he said, addressing his master. “May I have a private word with you?”

  Looking over at Ravenworth and noting his deep frown, Eve couldn’t stop apprehension from coursing through her. He gave a curt nod and rose to his feet, departing the room and leaving her alone to wonder what might have occurred. Of course, there was the possibility it had nothing to do with her. After all, this was a large household. Any number of things might demand the earl’s attention.

  But when he returned a short while later and pinned her with his serious eyes, she knew the matter he’d been made aware of had everything to do with her. “Forgive me, Miss Potter, but there seems to be a snag in our plan to get you to Amberly Hall tonight.”

  Lips parting with surprise, she blinked. The significance of his comment began to sink in. “I cannot possibly remain here,” she said. “Unless there are other women living under this roof, it would be most—”

  “Improper,” he said. He held her gaze. “Believe me, I am quite aware of the fact, and to answer your question, I am the only person in residence, besides the servants.”

  “Then you must agree my staying here is impossible.” If anyone were to find out, as Margaret and her husband eventually would, her reputation would be called into question. And while she might be able to convince them that nothing untoward happened while she spent the night in a bachelor’s home, they would not in good conscience be able to introduce her to eligible young gentlemen. “If there is a problem with the carriage or one of the horses, I’ll be more than happy to walk the distance. You need only point me in the right direction.”

  “Absolutely not.” The adamancy with which he spoke sent a jolt through Eve’s body. “No gentleman would ever send a woman out into the freezing night so she can walk six miles to her next destination. It is unconscionable for me to treat you with so little consideration. And what would your sisters say, or your friend, Mrs. Havisham, if something were to happen to you? I would be to blame!”

  He drew a shuddering breath and raked his fingers through his hair. “My apologies. I did not mean to be so brusque about it, but the fact of the matter is, ice has formed on the road within the past hour. To venture out by carriage, on horseback, or on foot will be hazardous. I’ll not risk it. Which means you will remain here as my guest.”

  “But surely—”

  “Your reputation may remain intact if you simply inform your friend that the coach with which you were traveling lost a wheel and was forced to stop at an inn for the night.”

  “You want me to lie?”

  “Either that or risk ruining your chance of enjoying the Season your sisters are working so hard to give you.” It was as if he could read her mind. “In the meantime, I will ask my housekeeper to have the maids prepare a spare bedroom for you. You may even have a hot bath brought up if you like. And once you are ready, I would like you to join me for dinner. I find I’ve been eating alone for far too long.”

  Without further comment, he left the room while Eve was forced to admit that, as much as she dreaded the possible impact of staying here, she was secretly thrilled with the prospect of spending more time in the Earl of Ravenworth’s company.

  2

  As soon as his housekeeper, Mrs. Dudley, had taken Miss Potter upstairs to the guestroom, Bryce went to the side table and re-filled his glass. He was in the middle of taking a sip when Radcliff returned, making his presence known with a knock on the door. Bryce turned toward him. “Yes?”

  “My lord, I apologize if I am about to overstep, but in light of the current situation regarding Miss Potter, I would like to offer a bit of advice in order to…ahem…minimize the impact of her visit.” Having previously served in his father’s employ, Radcliff had known Bryce his entire life. He’d stood by him when no one else had and took no issue with speaking his mind whenever doing so served his master’s best interests.

  “You worry I might make certain advances?”

  Radcliff’s eyes went wide. “Oh no, my lord. I would never suppose such a thing. You are far too gentlemanly to even think of imposing yourself on a young woman.”

  His butler was right, but that hadn’t stopped Bryce from thinking of making advances since Miss Potter’s arrival. To say so would not be helpful, however, so he asked instead, “Then what is your concern?”

  “If I may be blunt, what you do or do not do will hardly matter once word of her spending the night here without a chaperone gets out. Your reputation—”

  “I’m damn well aware of my reputation,” Bryce growled.

  “Then perhaps you will consider sleeping here in the library?”

  “Let us re-visit the part you mentioned about overstepping.”

  “For your own p
eace of mind and hers,” Radcliff went on as if Bryce hadn’t spoken, “it might be best if you pass the night on separate floors of the house. If anyone should inquire about what went on here later, I shall happily testify that everything was proper.”

  “Nobody will believe you.” Bryce knew what people thought of him. To suppose they would not imagine the worst was naïve.

  “Nevertheless.”

  Bryce nodded. “Very well. I shall do what you suggest.” If only to end this discussion.

  Radcliff nodded and took his leave, allowing Bryce to return his attention to his brandy. Crossing the floor, he reclaimed his seat from earlier, leaned back, and glanced at the armchair Miss Potter had vacated a short while ago. With a grimace, he sipped his drink, savoring the rich flavor while a log snapped and sparks crackled in the fireplace.

  She was beautiful and she was here, as if sent by the devil himself in order to tempt him. But he would resist… He curled his hand around the armrest. He would prove to the world he wasn’t the monster he’d been accused of being.

  And yet, even as he made this vow with conviction, an unbidden image of her undressing began to invade his thoughts. She would bathe before dinner. A tub filled with hot water had been requested. Which meant she would unbutton her unflattering gown to reveal a pair of stays…a chemise… Bryce’s mouth went dry. He took another sip of his drink and surrendered to the fantasy of Miss Potter removing these last items of clothing. What harm was there in doing so? It wasn’t real, no more than a dream–a sinful wish–a secret hope… Another log snapped in the fire. His breath caught, and his heart rate kick up as arousal assailed him once more.

  He had to stop this. It wasn’t helping. And yet he could not rid his mind of her sinking into hot water with a sigh of pleasure, of taking the soap and running it over her bare skin, of washing her breasts, her belly, the juncture between her thighs…

  The glass in his hand shattered. Bryce muttered a curse. The remains of his brandy stained his trousers while shards of glass littered the carpet. He would have to call a maid to clean it up, though doing so would have to wait until he’d gotten himself under some semblance of control. So he simply retrieved his handkerchief and pressed it to the tiny cut his wicked imaginings of Miss Potter had caused. It was only one night. Surely he would be able to get himself through it without expiring from lust. And then tomorrow, after seeing her safely returned to Amberly Hall, he would set his mind to procuring a mistress. A necessary matter which seemed to be long overdue.

  But when he sat down to dinner an hour later with Miss Potter directly to his right, the prospect of bedding another woman went straight out the window. He wanted this one, and he wanted her with a feral resolve that made his entire body ache with need. “How was your bath?” he quietly asked. Apparently, he would submit himself to torture.

  “Oh.” She’d just taken a bite of the ham they were having. She chewed it, chased it down with a sip of wine, and gave him a smile that tightened all of his muscles. “It was lovely. Exactly what I needed after a long day of traveling.”

  “And your bedchamber?” He ought to turn his mind to other subjects before he did something rash, like haul her into his lap and kiss her breathless. “Is it to your liking?”

  “Indeed, it is so incredibly comfortable and luxurious.” A dreamy look overcame her features, and Bryce became transfixed. “The plush carpet is heavenly beneath my feet and the bed…” She actually sighed. “I cannot wait to lie back against its inviting mattress.”

  Bryce stared. Did she have any idea how alluring she was being right now? Of how erotic she sounded? Of course she didn’t. She was an innocent young woman hoping to get herself married to an eligible young bachelor. The last thing she’d want to do was encourage a stranger to take certain liberties with her. “I’m glad you like it,” he managed to say, before returning his attention to his food in the hope of finding some distraction.

  “I suppose you enjoy reading,” she said, after a couple of minutes.

  Bryce blinked and met her inquisitive gaze. The blueness made him stop for a second in order to gather his thoughts. “I don’t hate it,” he finally managed.

  She grinned, lifting the unhappy atmosphere filling his home for so long. “Considering the impressive size of your library, I should hope not.”

  Allowing a slight smile of his own, Bryce held her sparking gaze. “Books have always felt like a sound investment.”

  “So you’re a collector?”

  He dipped his head. “I suppose you could say that.”

  She nodded as if she understood, and perhaps she did. “Have you read them all?”

  “No. But I have read the most interesting ones.”

  His answer seemed to satisfy her. She gave a succinct nod and took another bite of her food before asking, “Do you collect other things besides books?”

  “Coins and…” He snorted, wondering what she would think of this next revelation. “Flowers.” She stared at him for a second, and it occurred to him he was holding his breath in anticipation of what she might say.

  “How intriguing.” She sounded pensive. “May I see them after we finish our meal?”

  The interest with which she asked the question could not be denied. “Of course.” It would mean more time in her company, and however unwise that might be, he could not stop himself from giving in to temptation.

  So he led her away from the dining room once they’d finished desert and guided her toward his most private sanctuary. He produced a key from his pocket, opened the door, and waited for her to enter, then followed her into the room where nature was turned into lasting pieces of art.

  Standing close to Ravenworth, Eve was acutely aware of his masculine presence. The scent of him alone–of sandalwood and pine–was enough to make her insides shiver. And although she hadn’t considered him handsome in the classical sense to begin with, the intensity with which he studied her, the focus with which he addressed each subject of conversation, and the manner in which he carried himself were so attractive, she could not help but be drawn to him in a way she’d never been drawn to any man before.

  It was wrong, of course. She was well aware. He was an earl, and she was practically nobody. And then there was the impropriety of the whole situation, of her being in his home without a chaperone and about to spend the night there. She ought to be dreading every moment of it. Instead, she was thrilled with the prospect of having him near and of…trying to understand her curious reaction toward him.

  It felt strange–as if her body could not decide if it wished to be hot or cold. Her stomach had started to twist itself into various knots each time he glanced her way, and she could feel the occasional tremor darting across her skin whenever he was close enough to touch.

  It was most unsettling really, but it was also something so curious it demanded further exploration, if only to understand it. So she steeled herself and moved a bit nearer to where he was standing. It happened at the exact same moment he took a step toward her. The movement brought her almost shoulder to shoulder with him, and yes, there it was again, that strange lurch in the pit of her belly. A surge of heat rose up her spine, flushing her skin. She hastily added more distance by going toward the display case spanning the length of the wall. Heart pounding, she tried to focus on what it contained while she made every effort to slow her galloping pulse.

  “Are those real?” she finally asked, when she realized what she was looking at.

  “Yes. Some are from hothouse bouquets, others are wildflowers picked in various parts of the country. I paint them with gold leaf so they can last forever.” There was a slight pause, and then, from behind her left shoulder, “I also appreciate the beauty.”

  Eve’s heart ricocheted wildly as Ravenworth’s breath brushed over the back of her neck. Her lungs struggled to draw breath, and there was something else, something that hadn’t been there before. Unsure of what it might be, Eve remained perfectly still while pretending to show great interest in all of th
e gilded flowers. But inside, she was in turmoil. Her body began responding more urgently to Ravenworth’s nearness. Which was silly, since she’d only met him a few hours earlier, not to mention incredibly embarrassing, when he would never be equally attracted to her.

  Sobered by her reflection, she moved away to admire the rest of the room. He’d set up a table–a workspace with flowers carefully stored in transparent glass boxes, a few brass containers, what appeared to be a small oil-powered stove, and various tools. “You should turn these into jewelry,” she said, once the table was placed between them and there was less risk of her melting into a needy puddle of inexplicable desire.

  Because that was what this was, wasn’t it? Her mother had warned Josephine about it years ago, about how it could divest both man and woman of their senses and prompt them to ignore the consequences. It was nature’s way of securing a continuation of the species, but it was wrong to allow outside the bounds of marriage. And since she would not marry him, she would have to ignore the effect he’d started having on her. She would stay one night. Surely she could get through it without losing her sanity. After all, she was here to see her friend, not to cavort with an earl.

  “I have done so with a few of the pieces.” He went to a drawer and pulled out a flat box. Setting it on the table, he opened it to reveal a rose pendant attached to a gold chain. His eyes met hers. “What do you think?”

  “It is lovely. Absolutely lovely.”

  “In that case, it is yours.” He held the box toward her.

  Eve stared at it before peering back up at him, her skin tightening across her body in response to the forcefulness of his gaze. She shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly.” Her heart thudded loudly and she forced herself to retreat all the way to the door. Once there, she swallowed hard while steadying herself against the doorframe. “Thank you for your hospitality this evening, but I find I am rather exhausted. If you’ll excuse me, I must…I must…”