The Earl's Bargain (Historical Regency Romance) (10 page)

She haughtily pulled the rug away from him
and hugged it to herself.

* * *

Night came early. Just before five in the
afternoon, the coach pulled into an inn yard in Reading. It had
taken them all day to travel forty miles. Despite that the rain was
still coming down in sheets, Louisa would be happy to stretch her
legs.

And to get away from Lord Wycliff. The
audacity! He really expected that she would allow him to sleep in
her room! The man was completely insufferable.

He held an umbrella over her as they ran to
the inn.

Once inside, he bespoke a private parlor
"for my wife and me."

Louisa was about to protest when she felt
very strong hands squeeze at her arm. Then, she realized a scene
would attract a great deal of attention. She would merely shake it
off for now, then later insist the obstinate man obtain separate
sleeping rooms. Right now all she could think of was her desire to
plop down in front of a bright fire and drink a cup of warm
milk.

Since they were the only occupants of the
private parlor, she and Lord Wycliff were at liberty to take a seat
immediately in front of the hearth. Soon the chill in her bones
faded, and she felt her cheeks growing hot. She also felt Lord
Wycliff's eyes on her and finally looked up to meet his gaze.

"Really, Mrs. Phillips," he said, "you
mustn't worry about your virtue. I assure you the last thing I want
is to share a bed with a man-hating reformer."

Even though the last thing she wanted was to
share a bed with a man, she was oddly piqued by his remark. "Then
how would you suggest we share a room without sharing a bed?"

"How do you know I couldn't lie with you
without wanting to make love to you?" he asked.

She hoped he would mistake her blush for
flush from the fire. "I know that you're a man, and all men want
the same thing."

"I assure you, Mrs. Phillips, the thing you
allude to I can have whenever I want. It has not been so long since
I was with a woman that I would lower either my preferences or my
expectations."

Now she was really
mad.
Lower his expectations
indeed
! She took a long drink from her mug
of milk and avoided eye contact with the conceited, arrogant,
obnoxious peer of the realm.

Before long the innkeeper's wife brought
each of them a plate of mutton and hot bread with freshly churned
butter.

Lord Wycliff cut, but did not eat, his
mutton. "I see I have offended you," he said. "I thought you would
be pleased that I do not find you desirable."

She lifted her chin haughtily. "I am."

"Then we can sleep together?"

She bit into a thick slice of crusty bread
and slowly chewed it before answering. "I can scream quite loudly,
you know."

He smiled before biting down on a forkful of
meat.

Butterflies danced in Louisa's stomach as
she and Lord Wycliff mounted the steep, ill-lit stairs to the
bedchamber they would share.

He inserted the key into the iron lock and
eased open the door. A candle already burned beside the bed, and a
fire blazed. The room's wooden ceiling was low, which together with
the warmth, gave the room a comforting feel.

She stepped into the room, a chill inching
down her back despite the room's warmth. Her portmanteau had been
placed beside the bed.

Lord Wycliff stood in the doorway. "I go to
the tavern now. I have the key and will let myself in later." His
voice dropped to a husky whisper when he added, "I daresay you'll
be asleep when I return."

Louisa looked at him with surprise, but he
was already turning away to descend the stairs. She crossed the
room and locked the door, then began to remove her wrinkled
traveling clothes. First the pelisse, then the gown. And still she
wasn't really cold. She decided the innkeepers must keep a fire
burning even when there were no guests. She would have to ask Lord
Wycliff to give the innkeepers an extra sum in appreciation of the
accommodations. Lord Wycliff could obviously afford such a trivial
expense. After all, he was going to settle her for life, merely for
accompanying him on this journey.

Her chest suddenly tightened. What if he was
not a man of his word? Did he truly plan to recompense her so well
for a few days of her time? As she had so thoroughly been reminding
herself all day, she knew not what manner of man he was. In spite
of the many hours they had spent together over the last few weeks,
he had revealed nothing of himself.

She stopped midway through donning her
woolen night shift and wondered what she really knew of him. That
he possessed a great deal of money was a certainty. His cousin
boasted of Lord Wycliff's ability to build a sizeable fortune after
being left virtually penniless by his squandering father. Louisa
also knew without doubt that the lord who was to share her room was
fiercely devoted to his mother. An admirable trait in a man, she
thought.

But what else did she really know of him?
She recounted their many visits together and realized she knew only
the little he had allowed her observe, and little of it was
personal. She had no idea even of how he had amassed his fortune.
Nor did she know if he had ever been close to matrimony. She wrung
her hands, learning just now as she was about to share her bed with
him that the handsome nobleman was a virtual stranger.

She donned her night rail, slid beneath the
warm blankets and blew out the candle. Weary from the day's travel,
she went to sleep almost immediately, careful to take less than
half of the bed.

* * *

Lying beneath the warm covers some hours
later and listening to the rhythmic breathing of the feminine
creature beside him, Harry could barely hold back the desire to
laugh. The silly woman had actually believed him when he told her
he had no desire for her. With every rise and fall of her breasts,
he wanted her. His desire for her was more keen than even the
desire to command his first ship. Or the desire to reclaim Wycliff
House. Or to regain his mother's portrait.

Yet he had instinctively known Louisa
Phillips was not a woman to be taken lightly. She would certainly
not give herself to a man who did not plan to make her the center
of his life, and Harry knew the complex reformer was not the woman
for him. Why, she didn't even like men!

He gave himself to trying to unravel the
puzzle that was Louisa Phillips. Why did she hate men with such
vehemence? The source, of course, pointed to the vile man who had
been her husband. What manner of man would leave a young thing like
that without provisions for a roof over her head?

From something she had begun to say before
amending her words, Harry felt certain that Godwin Phillips had
raised his hand to his young bride. Harry could barely hold back
his curse. If Godwin Phillips were still alive, Harry would take
pleasure in beating him until his ugly face looked like a can of
maggots.

As he lay beside her, Harry vowed he would
see that Louisa Phillips was comfortable for the rest of her life.
Whether she aided him in his quest or not.

* * *

The following morning they ate a hearty
breakfast before renewing their journey. He had awakened before she
did, slipped on his pantaloons -- for he had slept only in his
silken shirt -- and gone downstairs without disturbing her.

That she had survived the night with her
virtue intact undoubtedly loosened her tongue this morning when she
met him in the parlor for breakfast. Gone were the scowls of the
night before.

Through his restraint, he had earned her
approval.

"I believe the innkeeper keeps fires blazing
in the rooms so they are warm when guests arrive," Louisa told him
between spoonfuls of porridge. "You must be generous to the man, my
lord."

An amused grin lighted his tanned face. "As
you wish, madam."

"From the indentation on the bed I surmise
that you slept in our room," she said, "but I declare I never knew
when you came."

He watched as her cheeks grew rosy. He had
learned to detect her propensity to blush when things embarrassed
her. "Have I earned your trust, madam?"

She shyly nodded. "I daresay it's because I
hold no appeal to you."

He would play along with the charade.
"Please don't think you're not attractive, ma'am. I vow that any
number of men would find you desirable."

Her scowl returned. "Then you lied when you
said I was the prettiest woman at Lord Seymour's?"

He fairly spit out his tea. "Not at all,
madam. You were the prettiest woman there. It is just that I like
women who are a bit more. . ."

"Free with their favors?"

"I confess to having a certain amount of
experience with women of that description."

"Women like Lady Davenwood?"

How in the deuce did she know of his affair
with Fanny? "A gentleman does not discuss such matters, Mrs.
Phillips."

That blush of hers returned.

"I do find your liberal opinions at odds
with your own lifestyle," he said.

"How so?" she asked.

"Do you not espouse the principals of free
love?"

"I do," she said. "Marriage as we know it is
nothing but a sham."

He raised a brow. "I'm afraid I don't follow
you."

"Surely you know how freely
ladies of the
ton
share their beds with men who are not their
husbands."

She really does know about
Fanny
. He nodded sheepishly.

"Which appears to be perfectly all right
because they are married women. Then there is the fact that few
women are truly given the opportunity to choose their own husbands.
Circumstances of birth determine who marries whom. You must admit a
man of your birth would never marry a flower woman at Covent
Garden."

"Nor would a lovely young woman from
Kerseymeade choose to marry an aging card shark."

Her eyes rounded. She was silent for a
moment, then her voice dropped, and she spoke without hesitation.
"My father sold me for a thousand pounds. My significant abhorrence
to the match was irrelevant."

He felt the pain in her words and reached
across the sturdy wooden table to take her hand. "So that's why you
hate men," he whispered. "They've done nothing but hurt you. Not
only your husband, but also your father."

She withdrew her hand and stiffened. "You're
selfish creatures, the lot of you."

"I can see why you think that," he said
solemnly, his voice low. Now he knew why she would never return
home, why she wanted to get Ellie away from their father. Harry
finished the last of his tea, then put on his coat and helped her
into hers. "Let us hope the weather is better today."

It was still raining as they walked around
puddles in the inn yard, and his coach pulled in front of another
in order to save them a few steps of walking. Harry handed her into
the conveyance, then took his seat across from her and watched with
amusement as she tucked herself beneath the heavy rug.

He wasn't cold yet. He was still warm from
the parlor -- and from the intimacy of their conversation. It was
as if a barrier between them had been removed.

She looked out the window. "I believe the
clouds are breaking up," she said cheerfully.

With a lump in his throat, he watched her.
There was such a child-like quality about her, despite the tough
facade she had erected. In the weeks he had known her, her demeanor
had softened considerably. She dressed far less somberly, and acted
far more femininely. If only he had more time to spend with the
lovely lady.

He almost regretted that he would no longer
see her once he located Godwin Phillips' benefactor, but since
Harry had no intentions of becoming a member of the House of Lords,
nor of embracing Mrs. Phillips' liberal politics, he knew he would
have to steer clear of her once he regained Wycliff House.

Why should he wish to extend the franchise
and allow his cottagers to usurp his rights, rights that had been
enjoyed by the Earls of Wycliff for the past two hundred years? The
notion was utterly ridiculous. He would be sorry to disappoint her,
but his money should salve her anger and bruised pride.

"It's a pity man's future is determined by
his birth," she said. "Take John Coachman. It's his lot in life to
brave the elements, the cold chilling his bones and the wind
cutting through him, while it is your lot to sit inside the coach,
warm and dry."

"Would it please you if I sent him to join
you and I take his seat on the box?" Harry asked, mirth in his
voice.

"That is not my point at all," she
protested. "It is a sad fact of life that while some children are
coddled with nurses and tutors and protected within their
nurseries, others are left orphans to beg strangers on the street
for their next meal."

"I regret that I am unable to feed and
clothe all the orphans of the world, Mrs. Phillips. My pockets are
only so deep."

She heaved a sigh. "That is not the point,
either. Don't you see it is the right of every child to be able to
play and learn, not to work to earn his keep? It is the
responsibility of thinking people like you and me to equalize
people."

"And by that, we would all benefit."

She tossed aside her rug. He loved it when
those pale eyes of hers flashed. "Yes!" she said. "A well fed and
well educated citizenry would automatically reduce crime and could
even reduce diseases which I am convinced are spread by sheer
ignorance."

"I had no idea your education extended to
the field of medicine, Mrs. Phillips."

She glared at him. "You're making fun of
me."

"Not at all," he protested. "I find you
exceedingly intelligent, and I have great respect for your
intellect."