Mad About the Earl (20 page)

“No, no, I give you my word, your brother has not betrayed any confidences to me. But I do know that he loves you dearly,” said Rosamund.

Indeed, how could anyone fail to adore this funny, frank, awkward girl?

Rosamund held up her hand. “Now, please do not be hasty and fly out at Griffin for subjecting you to the Marriage Mart! I might have it all wrong. In fact, I probably do. Your brother is not the most communicative of men, in case you hadn’t noticed! Besides, I am persuaded he will not force you to do anything you find distasteful.”

“Oh, but—” Jacqueline made a helpless gesture. “Griffin is not my guardian, you see. He has no true authority over me. It is Lord deVere, you know. If
he
wants to parade me about the ballrooms of London like a prize heifer at a fair, Griffin could not stop him.” Her shoulders drooped. “I’ll have to run away again. But where would I go?”

“What is all this nonsense?” Rosamund took Jacqueline’s hand and led her back to the sofa, where she urged her to sit down beside her. “Griffin would never abandon you, no matter who has legal power over you. No one can force you to get married if you don’t want to.”

Jacqueline gave a gusty sigh. “That is true, but it is horrendously upsetting and tiresome to defy them. You’d know that as well as anyone.”

“I never even thought to defy my guardian,” said Rosamund slowly. “But I suppose I know what you mean.” Rosamund frowned. That she had not railed against her fate made her sound like rather a poor creature, but it hadn’t been like that at all. “I am sorry to hear you do not wish for a season,” she said. “But perhaps you will change your mind. When Griffin and I are married, I should be charmed to bring you out myself. I think you would make quite a hit.”

Surprise and pleasure broke over Jacqueline’s face. “You and Griffin are to be married at last? Well, that
is
good news.” Her eyes went opaque. “Perhaps I haven’t ruined quite everything, then.” She glanced at Tibby, whose head was bent over her needlework, then looked back at Rosamund. Softly, she said, “You will be kind to my brother, I think?”

It was more of a question than a statement, perhaps with a hint of a warning thrown in. Clearly, Jacqueline felt protective toward her brother. Rosamund liked her even more.

“Yes,” she assured her. “I mean to be
very
good to him.”
If he’ll let me.

“Good!” said Jacqueline, throwing off her dark mood in an abrupt change of front. “What a pity he’s not here. I expect he’s fixing one of the tenants’ roofs after the storm we had last night or some such thing. Have you set a date?”

“Not yet, no.” Rosamund smiled. “Griffin doesn’t know I’ve come. I hoped to surprise him, but no doubt he’ll hear of my visit today.”

“Oh, if you’re putting up at the inn, the news of your arrival will be all over the village by now,” said Jacqueline. “He’ll hear of it before he sets foot in the house.”

Well acquainted with village life, Rosamund didn’t doubt this was true. She wondered if Griffin would be happy that she’d followed him. She feared he’d be angry with her for telling Jacqueline about the forthcoming season. And he’d be quite justified, too.

Hoping she’d allayed Jacqueline’s immediate fears for her future, Rosamund took her leave.

“You will come back soon, won’t you?” said Jacqueline, slipping an arm through Rosamund’s as she escorted her to the door. “Do you ride? Perhaps you’d like to go for a hack about the estate tomorrow?”

“I do indeed ride. I’d be delighted. You can show me all your childhood haunts.”

A shadow crossed the girl’s face, but it was a look so fleeting, Rosamund might have imagined it, “Yes, of course,” said Jacqueline brightly. “Are you staying at the inn? I’ll call for you there at nine o’clock.”

Jacqueline saw them to the door and gave a vigorous wave as the carriage rolled forward.

Rosamund sighed with a mixture of released tension and disappointment.

“An unusual girl,” commented Tibby as they drove off.

“Fresh and unaffected,” said Rosamund. “I liked her very much.”

“She’ll be a handful, I expect,” said Tibby placidly. “But you will know how to manage her, Rosamund dear.”

Rosamund hoped that Tibby judged her powers correctly.

Girls like Jacqueline needed constant activity to keep them out of mischief. She thought Griffin was right in wanting his sister to make her come-out. Even if she did not make a match, she would acquire a little polish, a touch of sophistication. Rosamund wouldn’t want her to lose that winning freshness or tone down her lively personality. But the experience of a season would be good for her. She’d form friendships and connections that would last a lifetime. Once Rosamund and Griffin were married, she’d make sure Jacqueline had every opportunity to shine.

Rosamund sighed as the inn came into view and forbade herself to crane her neck to search the market square for any sign of Griffin. She’d given up hope of seeing him that day.

But there was always tonight.

*   *   *

The warm conviviality of an evening spent with the vicar almost washed away the worries of the day. But as Griffin climbed the stairs to his bedchamber, all his cares crowded in upon him again.

Maddox had been right. No one knew who’d started the rumor, but it was said someone had laid information over the death of Maddox’s cousin, Mr. Allbright. Determined to know one way or the other, Griffin had called on the local justice of the peace, Sir William Drake, only to be told the gentleman knew nothing of any fresh information.

Griffin had come away even more confounded than before.

So if no one had laid new information, how had that devilish rumor sprung up? Had there truly been a witness to Allbright’s murder?

Chasing down the source of the rumor was like clutching at shadows. The more interest he showed in the business, the guiltier he looked. Of course, Allbright had been in his employ, but everyone knew Griffin’s interest was not that of a concerned master. They all thought he’d killed the man.

He only wished he had.

He turned into the corridor that held his bedchamber. The candle snapped and flickered as a sudden draft blew.

Damned uncomfortable barracks of a place! He’d always hated it. It was the house in which his grandfather reigned supreme, tyrannizing family and servants alike.

Even in his final days, the old earl had hunkered in the center of his web of minions and informants like a malevolent spider. Nothing had pleased him more than finding excuses to dish out corporal punishment to his grandsons. If the old Devil had but known it, for Griffin, the beatings had never been the worst part.

When his grandfather died, Griffin had entertained visions of a happier home. He’d dismissed the worst of the old earl’s henchmen and hired new servants in their place.

But even those servants had left him when Allbright’s body was found mangled and bloody at the foot of a nearby cliff.

All except Joshua and Peggy and their meek little Alice.

The door gave an eerie creak as he pushed it open. Damn Joshua! He’d told the man to oil it. Did he have to do every bloody thing himself? He’d be down in the kitchens cooking his own dinner next.

He fingered his jaw. Actually, he couldn’t do a worse job of it than Peggy did.

At least Joshua had carried out his usual orders and drawn a bath and built up the fire beside it. Griffin thought of soap that smelled like a pine forest and sighed.

That led to more pleasurable recollections. The lush whiteness of Rosamund’s breasts, the pink of her nipples, the intoxicating sweetness of her lips, the erotic promise in her sighs.

He pushed those memories away. Now that he was faced with a reprise of the ugliness surrounding Allbright’s death, Rosamund seemed more out of reach than ever.

With a frustrated oath, he stripped off his clothes and climbed into the oversized bath.

The water had grown tepid, but he didn’t mind that. After the day he’d had, the water calmed and soothed him. He washed his hair and scrubbed at his body, then reached for the ewer to sluice away the suds.

“Hello, Griffin,” a soft female voice said.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Jesus!” Griffin dropped the ewer into the bath and scrambled to his feet, his hand shooting out to snatch his towel. Water poured off him in sheets as he rose like some ancient sea god emerging from the ocean depths.

Rosamund tried to speak, but her mouth was curiously dry and the breath seemed to catch in her throat.

He was without doubt the most magnificent creature she’d ever laid eyes on. True, she’d never seen a naked man before, but surely they could not all be so breathtaking in their proportions?

She couldn’t seem to drag her gaze from the fascinating collection of male apparatus at his groin.

To her disappointment, Griffin snapped out the towel and wrapped it tightly around his waist. “What the Hell are you doing here?” he demanded, tunneling his fingers through his thick, dark hair.

She lifted her gaze to his. “I—I came to see you.”

“Well, you’ve seen me, all right.” He stepped out of the tub, stalked to the dresser, and began to rummage through the drawers.

Rosamund bit her lip. She ought to feel guilty for watching him like that, but too many other, more powerful emotions swamped her for any trace of guilt to survive.

“I’ve missed you, Griffin.”

He stopped. For a few, breathless moments, she hoped he’d rush to sweep her into his arms.

He didn’t even turn around, but resumed his search with renewed vigor. “How did you get in?” He tossed the question over his shoulder as he yanked out a pair of breeches.

“The secret staircase,” she answered, mesmerized by the play of muscles over his back. “Cecily found it when we were here last.”

He turned to stare at her.

Rosamund shrugged. “I believe she was searching for buried treasure. She is a redoubtable girl.”

“If we are to talk of redoubtable…”

“Oh, you mean me?” Slowly, she shook her head. “Not redoubtable. Merely—”
Desperate.
She moved toward him until she was within touching distance. “—determined.”

She placed one hand on his shoulder. The skin there was smooth and warm, damp from the bath. He sucked in a breath, his big chest expanding with it.

That
was not indifference. He couldn’t deny this heat between them. She refused to believe he truly wanted her to leave.

As she slid her hand around to his nape, she removed the breeches from his slackened grasp with her other hand and dropped them to the floor.

For a few tantalizing seconds, she studied his face, the taut, deep lines of strain about his mouth, the painful puckered whiteness of his scar. And those storm-cloud eyes of his, glowering with fury, blazing with desire.

Then she pulled him to her.

His mouth crushed down on hers in a kiss that was wild and hungry and raw. All she could do was allow herself to be swept along and match him as best she could.

With a guttural oath, he wrenched his mouth away and put her from him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

That’s not what your kiss said.
He wanted her, just as she wanted him.

Breathless with nerves and heat and desire, she licked her lips. “Griffin,” she panted, “I admire your scruples, but—”

“You shouldn’t be in my house,” he ground out. “No, scratch that. What I mean is
I don’t want you here.
”

Her confidence faltered. She stepped back, struggling to shore up her courage.

He put the heels of his hands to his temples as if to keep his head from exploding. “I told you in my note why I had to return. There was no call for you to post down as well. I’d planned to be back in a week.”

“It has been a week already,” she said.

He sighed. “I had business to attend to.”

“And would that business have kept you another week?” she asked. “Another two? Three years, perhaps? Griffin, why don’t you
trust
me?”

“It’s not a question of trust. It’s…” He turned away.

When he looked at her again, there was grim resignation in his face.

The fear that had dogged her since she read his note sank its teeth into her heart. “Do you not wish to marry me, after all?”

His features hardened to granite.

When he didn’t answer, she fell back another step. “No.
No!
Griffin, you will not do this to me again. I won’t let you leave me.”

He dragged a hand down his face and inhaled deeply through his nose. “We might not have a choice in the matter.”

She shook her head. “No, don’t you see? Of course we have a choice. I made mine three years ago, and I stand by it, no matter what.”

“No matter what,” he repeated. To her astonishment, his features cracked in a ghastly parody of a smile. “I think you’ll change your mind about that when you hear the truth about me.”