Surrender to the Earl (4 page)

“But you became a soldier,” Blythe countered. “Would that not make you an outdoorsman in your youth?”

“My father would order my brother to drag me from my books to the archery field or fencing match.”

“Surely your brother had your best interests at heart,” Edwin said with hearty good cheer.

Audrey could imagine him giving Blythe a playful elbow to the side, but not her, as if it would be cruel to have fun with an invalid.

“Oh, my brother had more than my best interests—he was very competitive, being older than I.”

“But you are the earl,” Blythe said, confusion in her voice.

“My brother died at fourteen. Now, Miss Collins, do not look so sad. It was a long time ago, and I’ve since thought my brother has enjoyed watching me from above as I stumble from mistake to mistake.”

So he has had other grief in his life, Audrey thought. Perhaps that was where his compassion began.

“Maybe your brother has guided you as well,” Blythe said. “You were a captain in the army, yes? And you have the look of a man at ease in physical pursuits.”

Audrey found herself trying to imagine what Blythe saw. Audrey knew something of men after all, even though she’d only had a wedding night before her husband had abandoned her. At first she’d thought herself lacking when he’d so quickly fled, but after a time, she’d realized he’d been a selfish man who cared little for her or making her feel at ease on their wedding night. She’d been a virgin, after all.

But she remembered what he’d felt like through his nightshirt, thin and bony, awkward with his hands on her body. He could not be a representation of all men. Lord Knightsbridge must look quite the dashing figure in comparison, if Blythe’s reaction was any indication.

Not that she cared. The earl could be a hunched troll and it wouldn’t matter, as long as he helped her. And then he could go away, because she was done with men, done with being under their control.

“I do enjoy outdoor pursuits now,” Lord Knightsbridge admitted. “And I’ve been known to be an accurate shot. I imagine some of you here should fear my abilities.”

There was laughter and answering challenges, so . . . manly to Audrey, thrilling in a new way. It was wonderful to participate like this, all because of his lordship.

As conversations began again, Lord Collins asked Blythe to play the piano, and soon her cheerful melody provided background.

Lord Knightsbridge murmured, “I do believe I must speak to others now, Mrs. Blake, or be accused of monopolizing you.”

“I understand, my lord, but you are patronizing me. We both know all believe
I’m
monopolizing
you
.”

“And we know it untrue,” he murmured.

To her surprise, he lifted her gloved hand and brought it briefly to his mouth, so briefly she might have imagined it. Her fingers started to tremble, and she berated herself for a silly fool.

“You are a flatterer, my lord,” she said, shaking her head. “I give you permission to go flatter someone else.”

She heard his chuckle, felt the rush of warm air as he rose, and then she was alone at her end of the sofa. Listening to Blythe play, she heard the occasional wrong note that came from not enough practice, but overall, she thought her sister had improved. Blythe joined her voice to the music, and it was sweet and pretty. Audrey hoped many of the men looked upon her sister with interest.

Soon Audrey deemed it time for refreshments, so she walked to the bell pull and rang it, waiting patiently for the footman to appear. She ordered coffee and tea for her brother’s guests.

“No, no, I can play no more,” she heard Blythe say in a teasing voice. “My fingers will need time to recover.”

“Then let us hear your sister play,” Lord Knightsbridge said, his deep voice once again bringing all conversation to a standstill.

Audrey was caught standing alone, feeling almost adrift in surprise. She could sense their eyes on her, and her imagination made them all look wide-eyed with shock or revulsion or morbid curiosity.

“I don’t think . . .” her father began in his big blustery voice.

“But I heard her this afternoon when I arrived,” Lord Knightsbridge smoothly interrupted. “Mrs. Blake plays as beautifully as her sister. You have very talented daughters, Collins.”

Audrey couldn’t refuse the earl, for it would be poor manners, but she wasn’t so certain this was a good idea. When she hesitated, not knowing who was between her and the piano, someone took her arm. She stiffened.

“It is only your proud brother,” Edwin said, speaking tightly as if between gritted teeth.

Did he think she was ruining his shooting party? Or distracting attention from Blythe? Audrey straightened in anger, allowing him to lead her to the piano. Sitting down on the bench, she tried to clear her mind, the better to choose a selection. She panicked for a moment, never having been asked to perform for guests. At last one of Chopin’s romantic piano ballades came to mind. As she hesitated, she remembered how long it had taken her to memorize it, note by note, with help from her mother. Those were such good memories.

She began to play, and let the pleasure of the music soothe her nerves and quench her unease. Only when she was done did she realize that everyone had remained silent throughout. A burst of warm applause made her bow her head with happiness.

She almost felt like a normal woman. But she wasn’t—not yet.

Chapter 4

T
he next morning, Robert walked the fields with the other men toward the marsh at the far end of the park, where they were supposed to find plenty of birds to shoot. The grass crunched beneath their feet from the frozen damp overnight. The sun was just rising, casting its rays through the brilliant foliage of a copse of trees ahead. A half dozen beaters had already gone in front, waiting for a signal to drive the birds toward them.

Robert couldn’t keep his mind on what he was about to do, though he held his gun with well-trained caution. He was remembering Mrs. Blake’s performance last night, and he still could not forget how impressed and awed he’d been. His bookish youth had made him familiar with the works of Chopin, and he knew the ballade she’d chosen to play was considered one of the most technically difficult. And yet she’d memorized it without ever reading the sheet music.

Seeing her with her eyes closed and her expression suffused with peaceful joy, one could almost forget she was blind. He’d looked around and seen the other men’s faces show surprise and reluctant delight. Lord Collins’s expression was far more inscrutable, and his son’s simply impassive. But Miss Collins? She did not like to be upstaged, and surely knew she had been. Perhaps that was why Mrs. Blake chose not to sing. It would have only pointed out even more strongly who was the more talented of the sisters.

Robert hoped his request for Mrs. Blake to play hadn’t further distanced her from her family. It was simply that he’d been annoyed at seeing her relegated to a corner alone, like a dotty old lady.

If she had wanted to show him her family situation, it was working. In less than twenty-four hours, he was already defensive on her behalf.

And he was also full of regret that he’d brought up the subject of his brother, Neil. They were only two years apart, and they should have been close, but their father had been a firm believer in raising up his sons to be competitive. Their tutor had taken that one step further and set them against one another to “spark their competitiveness.” All it did was ruin their relationship, and made Robert retreat into his books. When Neil had died, Robert became the focus of their father’s fanatic need to control everything around him. And so he had to follow him around day after day whenever he was home for holidays, learning the man’s obsessive methods for controlling his estates, watching other men cower to his father’s bullying. Only one man could not be cowed, and that was a retired military officer who lived in their village. Robert would often seek him out to hear his adventures—which was probably why he bought a commission himself, when he felt himself turning into his father.

Robert was glad when they arrived at the pond and the beaters had begun their work. Birds took flight, and he aimed and shot. Some men had a servant reload one gun while they shot another, but Robert reloaded quickly by himself. Birds plummeted from the sky, and dogs brought them back without taking a single bite.

Several hours later, as they walked back toward the manor carrying bags of birds for the evening meal, Robert happened to glance down another path, and to his surprise, he saw Mrs. Blake walking with a plainly garbed woman. The sainted lady’s maid?

Since he was already at the back of the small group of men, he simply turned down the path toward Mrs. Blake. She was far enough away that he had time to watch her move, still without the aid of a cane. She kept her head high, as if smelling crisp air redolent with recently picked apples and hearth fires.

“I’m quite sorry my sister distracted you, Knightsbridge.”

Robert turned his head to find Edwin Collins catching up with him. “Not a bit. I thought I’d say good morning.”

“It was foolish for her to be out when we’re shooting,” Collins said, his breath huffing. “She could have been hurt.”

Robert almost pointed out that she wasn’t anywhere near the pond, but he let Collins pull ahead of him and draw Mrs. Blake aside. The man spoke intently for several minutes, while Mrs. Blake’s expression remained impassive. The other woman, red-faced, looked off as if she wasn’t listening.

At last Collins strode back toward his friends, pausing to give Robert a look. Obviously realizing he had no say in what Robert did, he only gave an impatient nod and strode away.

The servant said something to Mrs. Blake, and her head came up quickly as he approached.

“Forgive me, Lord Knightsbridge,” she said coolly. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I heard nothing, Mrs. Blake. It simply looked like a brother and sister conversing.” But he knew he’d seen a warning. Apparently only Miss Collins was allowed to consort with their guests.

She gave a grim smile. “That is kind of you.” Her expression eased and she turned her head slightly toward her servant. “This is my lady’s maid, Molly. Molly, the Earl of Knightsbridge.”

It wasn’t often a woman introduced a peer to her servant; he admired that about her.

Molly sank into a deep curtsy and her blush emphasized her freckles. “Good morning, milord.”

He smiled at her. “The two of you make quite a sight on an early morning.”

Molly bit her lip, even as Mrs. Blake asked dryly, “You mean like Punch and Judy?”

He laughed. “Not at all. It is inspiring to see you out and about, without even a cane. I hope my admiration isn’t offensive.”

“It is not, my lord,” she said at last, a faint smile curving her lips.

“May I walk with you?”

“You may.”

He took her arm and placed it on his, and she seemed surprised.

“I know you can walk unassisted, but there is something about an autumn morn with a lovely woman on your arm that a man can’t resist.”

“You are a charmer, my lord,” she said, shaking her head.

Molly fell behind them as they began to walk toward the garden, giving them enough room to speak privately.

“You don’t need to treat me like this,” Mrs. Blake said at last.

He glanced down at her in surprise. “Like what?”

“Like you’re flirting with me. We both know you’re playing a part.”

“I am so glad you see through to what you think I’m doing.”

She gave a soft laugh.

“This isn’t a part I’m playing, Mrs. Blake,” he said, his voice a bit more serious. “I wanted to get to know you and your family. I’m doing so, am I not?”

“You are,” she admitted with obvious reluctance.

“Do I make you uncomfortable—or cause you problems with your family?” he added, more to the point.

“I am not uncomfortable—simply unused to being brought to people’s attention. There are some benefits to being invisible.”

“Invisible,” he mused, keeping his voice light although he felt a stir of anger on her behalf. “I often wished to be so when I served in the army. It makes one not a target.”

“Exactly. And now you’re home, taking up the responsibilities of the earldom, and I imagine you’re far more visible than you’re used to.”

“Perceptive, Mrs. Blake. Then we have something in common.” They strolled in silence for a moment as they entered one of the garden’s gravel paths. The last daisies were dying, and other shrubbery had already been cut back. “Mrs. Blake, I mean no offense, but your husband never once mentioned you were blind. And I can see now he must have thought you quite the normal woman, regardless of your—”

“He was ashamed,” she interrupted, her voice matter-of-fact.

Not surprised, Robert said nothing, only gave her gloved hand a squeeze where it rested on his arm.

“You don’t need to show me sympathy, sir. I knew he did not love me. He only wanted my dowry.”

And he suspected she was eager enough to be away that she wasn’t too choosy.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She tilted her head as if she were looking up at him. “I hope I am not disillusioning you about your friend.”

“I left England at a young age, and he was several years my junior. We only became more acquainted in the Eighth Dragoons.”

“And that was only possible because of my dowry. It is how he purchased his commission. I didn’t know his plans until he left England the day after our wedding.”

Robert frowned. “That is a tragedy. I regret you had to suffer it.”

“I would not normally confide such private sorrow in a stranger, my lord, but you need to understand my dilemma.”

“I am understanding more and more each hour.”

“Good. Then I will ask you not to repeat my past marital difficulties.”

“Of course not.”

“Even with my family. My father warned me about Mr. Blake’s intentions from the beginning, and I didn’t want to listen. Reminding him of it only makes him repeat his warnings all over again.”

“About men in general?”

“About my suitability to marry. And though my father doesn’t believe me, I have taken my hard-earned lessons to heart. I don’t plan to marry again, ever.”

She spoke so firmly, flatly, that he knew she believed it. And Robert couldn’t blame her. It must be difficult to make oneself vulnerable, and then be so cruelly rejected.

“We all must react to our own lessons, Mrs. Blake,” he finally said.

“Even an earl? I imagine that you’re permitted—anything.”

She sounded a bit intrigued, but he wasn’t going to satisfy her curiosity.

“Even an earl.”

They walked on in silence, taking the winding trails ever closer to the house, passing a fountain that sprayed a cold mist in the air.

“My lord, do you still have dead birds on your person?”

He shot her a glance. “I had forgotten.”

“I had, too, until I smelled them.”

He chuckled. “I’ll guide you up to the house, and then head for the kitchens.”

“Do not bother yourself on my behalf, my lord. I’ll finish my walk with Molly, and see you at luncheon.”

Robert watched in amazement as she turned back the way they’d just come and approached Molly. The servant murmured something, and they both took a right hand turn down another path that disappeared behind a vine-covered arbor.

Robert stood still, considering his dilemma. There was no doubt that he had to help Mrs. Blake, but after the close way her family watched her, he was beginning to think her suggestion that he simply escort her away wasn’t going to work.

A
fter luncheon, Robert accompanied the rest of the gentlemen for target shooting out on the lawn, which he won. Dinner ended up being a more elaborate affair, with neighbors as guests, followed by card games in the drawing room. He rather suspected he was being put on display by Miss Collins, who’d thrown the event together and sent footmen scurrying all over the countryside with invitations that morning. Robert was no longer surprised when only a few of the guests knew Mrs. Blake personally, although most had heard of her.

Since card games could not appeal to Mrs. Blake, she sat in a corner with an elderly woman, who kept up so much chatter that every time Robert looked their way, Mrs. Blake, though nodding politely, was never given the chance to speak.

Robert didn’t need any more convincing. It was time to talk to Lord Collins. Would the baron allow him to simply whisk away his daughter? No. But Robert had another idea . . .

When the last guest from the village had gone, Miss Collins retired and Mr. Collins led his friends upstairs. Robert stopped their father in the entrance hall.

“Lord Collins, might we speak privately?” he asked.

Mrs. Blake was just entering the hall from the back corridor. Her eyes narrowed as he spoke. There was no way to send her a reassuring smile. Realizing he was staring a bit too long, he turned and found Lord Collins frowning at him.

“We can speak in my study,” Collins said, leading him across the hall to another door.

His study was lined with books and deep leather chairs, and the occasional masculine knickknacks of rocks, animal skulls, and a mounted deer. Collins indicated a chair for Robert, then went around and sat behind the desk, as if he needed a barrier against whatever Robert had to say.

But his expression was neutral enough as he asked, “Is something amiss, Knightsbridge?”

Robert was so used to making a decision and then the necessary physical preparations, it had never occurred to him to prepare a speech. He would definitely need to brush up on that before Parliament opened after Christmas.

“Collins, I came here with the intention of offering my sympathy to your daughter. I had heard a bit about her from Blake—”

“You can’t trust a word that scoundrel ever said,” Collins said, frowning. “He abandoned my daughter.”

“He did, though I didn’t know it. He spoke of her letters as giving him comfort, and in some ways, I think he was surprised by that.”

The other man said nothing, only steepled his fingers together beneath his chin.

“I’ve spent two days in Mrs. Blake’s company, and I’ve seen her courage, wit, and intelligence. I cannot express enough my admiration.”

“What are you saying?” Collins demanded.

“I wanted to inform you that I will be asking for Mrs. Blake’s hand in marriage tomorrow.”

To his surprise, Collins began to chuckle, but it slowly died away as Robert didn’t smile in return.

“You are serious,” Collins said in a flat voice.

“I am.”

“You have an earldom to lure any young woman. You’ve only just returned to England. And you want to choose the first woman you’ve spent time with—a
blind
woman?”

“I returned two weeks ago,” Robert amended. “I met several debutantes in London, but most are in the country, I know. Your daughter is the first woman to fascinate me, and frankly, after nine years in the army, I’ve learned to trust my instincts.”

“Her dowry went to Blake,” Collins said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. “But Blythe has a fine dowry.”

Robert ignored the mention of the other daughter. “Mrs. Blake told me how her husband took her money and betrayed her. I would never do that. I’ve resigned my commission. I have no need of her dowry. Surely you know that the Knightsbridge estates have been well cared for. But, sir, it is your daughter’s kindness and patience I value, not money. Her acceptance of her limitations, and the courage she shows every single day. The London debutantes want me for all the wrong reasons, my title and wealth. A mature woman like Mrs. Blake would best understand the moods of an ex-soldier.”