The Earl's Bargain (Historical Regency Romance) (19 page)

Then, too, leaving Polperro might restore
Harry to better humor. She tried to be patient when he was
impatient with her. After all, a man like Harry was unused to being
bedridden. No doubt, his pride was bruised over his infirmity.

Getting back on the road
again was the best thing. They left the Polperro inn early in the
morning, the
so'westerly
wind fighting against Harry's four matched grays.
They drove along the coastal route, which was so vastly different
from the desolate Bodmin Moors. Here there were spreading oaks and
elms, and primroses bloomed everywhere, even though spring had not
yet come.

It was warmer here in the South, too. Louisa
flung off her rug an hour into the journey, and she eagerly viewed
each village.

Underlying all her thoughts, though, was her
worry over Ellie. When she had left London, she had felt certain
she would return within a week. Now that week had stretched into
almost three. They had covered half of Cornwall, but their search
had thus far proved fruitless. She wished she could hop on a post
chaise headed to London, but she had given Lord Wycliff her word
she would help him identify Godwin's benefactor. And Louisa
Sinclair Phillips had never gone back on her word.

Besides, were she to return to London
without having proven successful, she would receive not a farthing
from Lord Wycliff, and she and Ellie desperately needed the
money.

Poor
Ellie
. Left alone in the metropolis that
terrified her so with only the occasional companionship of the
immature Edward Coke. The poor little pet must be quite
miserable.

Louisa flicked a glance at Lord Wycliff, who
sat across from her in the carriage. She was embarrassed to find
that he was watching her. "In the next village," she said firmly,
"I must post a letter to Ellie, and I beg that you will do likewise
with Mr. Coke. Mr. Bentham has long ago finished delivering his
talks, and I fear your cousin will have forgotten about my
sister."

"That's hardly likely."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because my cousin is a gentleman and will
feel obligated to offer your sister protection until we return.
Besides, your sister is a lovely creature."

A sting of jealousy swept through Louisa.
She did not at all like for Harry to find any other female
attractive. Even if that female were her beloved sister. On further
reflection, though, Louisa took his words for a compliment. After
all, Ellie was but a younger, more petite version of herself."

"Could you please ask your cousin to take
Ellie to the theatre or the opera? I believe she would find those
most amusing." She smiled as she thought of Ellie's sweet
countenance and innocence.

"Consider it done."

* * *

Being fully apprised of the nature of his
cousin's business in Cornwall, Edward grew alarmed when the third
week arrived and still he had heard no word from Harry. Had Harry
located the mysterious lord and then been done in by him? Any
manner of murderous scenarios flashed through Edward's brain, which
was already given over to adventurous accounts of villainy and the
triumphs of honorable heroes.

In the depths of his mental wanderings,
Edward rather fancied himself a dashing hero. And now his
opportunity had arrived. He would single handedly rescue his cousin
from the grip of death – and the sword of a vile lord.

Though Harry had cautioned him not to impart
to Miss Sinclair the particulars of his journey, Edward let the cat
out of the bag one fine afternoon he was taking Miss Sinclair for a
walk about the Grosvenor Square park, innocently telling her that
he had grave fears for the safety of his cousin and her sister.

She turned her sweet face -- which he rather
liked -- up to his. Most ladies of his acquaintance tended to be
taller than him – such a pity that he could not have taken after
Uncle Robert's side of the family and been tall like Harry.

He noticed that Ellie's eyes were wide with
surprise.

"My sister is with Lord Wycliff? I do not
believe you, sir. Louisa specifically told me she was seeing to
matters of her late husband's estate, and Louisa would never lie to
me."

He had gotten himself into rather a pickle.
Harry expressly told him not to mention that Mrs. Phillips had gone
away with him. Some ridiculous notion about not wanting to sully
the widow's good name! As if a woman who delivered talks berating
the state of matrimony and advocating free love had not already
hopelessly tarnished her reputation. "See here," he said
frantically, "you're not to know that your sister's gone to
Cornwall."

"To Cornwall? Why Louisa doesn't know a soul
there, and if you are trying to tell me my sister is having an
affair with your cousin, I refuse to believe a word you say. She
doesn't even like your cousin. He's an aristocrat!"

"I'm not saying that, either. Why must you
keep trying to put the most ridiculous words into my mouth?"

She stomped her dainty heel. "I'm not trying
to put words into your mouth. I'm merely trying to learn my
sister's whereabouts. Has your wicked cousin abducted her with
intentions of stealing her virtue?"

There she went
again.
Did she think every man in London
went around stealing good women's virtue? Damn Harry for saddling
him with a blasted chit who was still wet behind the ears. "My
cousin need not steal any woman's virtue. He can have the most
beautiful women in London merely for the asking."

"Are you saying my sister would willingly
give your odious cousin her virtue? That my sister is nothing more
than a harlot, sir?"

He rolled his eyes toward the heavens. "I'm
saying no such thing, Miss Sinclair. I'm certain your sister's
virtue is still intact. Bluestockings don't appeal to Harry."

She huffed.

He stopped and placed both of his hands on
her shoulders. "Harry learned that the man who owns Wycliff House
lives in Cornwall, and only your sister can identify him. Harry
bribed her to go with him. That's all there is to it."

Ellie's mouth dropped open. "Louisa does not
own Wycliff House?"

"I'm afraid not," he said gently, his hands
still on her slim shoulders. "That brute of a husband of hers
didn't leave her anything. That's how Harry got your sister to go
with him. He promised her a house and a comfortable settlement for
the rest of her life."

Ellie bit at her lip.

"But I'm afraid they've come to harm,"
Edward said. "The man they're searching for, whom I am told is
rather unsavory, must have found out about them and decided to make
sure they would no longer be a threat to him."

Ellie shrieked. "What can we do?"

"Not we, but I," he said forcefully. Puffing
out his chest, he said, "I shall have to rescue them."

"But. . .you could be killed." She held both
hands to her breasts.

"'Tis a chance I shall have to take." He
turned away. "I had best have my man pack my things now."

She clung to his sleeve. "Take me with
you!"

He stopped dead in his stride. "I can't do
that."

"Why?"

"Because. . .it ain't proper."

"But my sister's with Lord Wycliff. If
Louisa does something, that makes it right. My sister has an acute
sense of right from wrong."

"Your sister has been a married woman. That
makes her a great deal different than you."

"How so?"

"Because she's. . .you know."

"I don't."

"She's been with a man before."

"Of course she's been with a man. She's with
another one as we speak."

"When I said
been with a man
, I meant,
well, blast it, Miss Sinclair, your sister has lain with a
man."

He watched with sympathy as the color crept
up her cheeks. "Oh," she managed to squeak.

"So you see, you can't come with me."

"But you're a gentleman. I can trust you not
to. . ."

Steal my
virtue
, he wanted to finish.

Instead, she said, "want to lie with
me."

"Of course you can trust me not to try to do
that. Nevertheless, I still can't take you."

"But you can't leave me alone here in
London! I'm so terribly frightened."

He hated like the dickens to watch the
pitiful little thing pleading in front of him like that, but the
fact was he simply couldn't take her with him. It could be quite
dangerous, not to mention the impropriety of it. "You'll have your
Cook."

She stomped her slippers once again. "Oh,
you odious man!" Then she ran off to Wycliff House, though, of
course it wasn't called that any more. Not since that contemptible
Godwin Phillips had taken possession of it.

With an inexplicable feeling of lowness,
Edward rode the phaeton back to the livery stable nearest his
lodgings, and he instructed his man to pack some clothing. Then he
realized a phaeton would mean poor travelling, indeed. But Harry
had taken the coach, which would give excellent protection from the
elements. Edward fleetingly thought of taking a post chaise, but
that would hardly do. He had no idea where he was actually
going.

An hour later, bag in hand, he returned to
the stables to fetch his gig and rode off toward the west.

He was completely unaware that a young lady
dressed as a tiger hitched herself behind his phaeton.

* * *

In the next village Harry and Louisa came
to, they learned that a post chaise would stop for the mail the
following morning. Harry scribbled out a message to his cousin,
while Louisa, in the broad flourishes of her distinctive
penmanship, scratched away a three-page letter to her sister.

"You don't need to write a bloody book,"
Harry quipped.

Louisa shot him an
I'd-like-wring-your-aristocratic-neck look.

He franked the pair of letters, then they
got back into the coach.

"I'm beginning to think I dreamed up our
non-existent lord," Louisa told him, her voice – like herself –
utterly tired.

"I have faith in you, Louisa."

It was the first civil comment he'd made to
her since he had regained his strength. In some small way, it
helped to buoy her sagging spirits. She was as weary as she could
ever remember being in her life. Her weariness coupled with Harry's
brutish manner toward her had worn her down to the point she could
collapse for a week.

His ill treatment bruised her, especially
since the disturbing revelation that had come to her as she stood
at Harry's bedside watching him weakly flail under the
hallucinations of the high fever. And despite all the reasons why
she should not, Louisa had come to realize that she did, indeed,
love Harry Blassingame, the Lord of Wycliff. He was an arrogant
aristocrat. He was far too handsome to ever settle with a single
woman. He had been a lying, thieving pirate. To make matters even
worse, he didn't even like her!

Nevertheless, she was in love with him.

And, God help her, she did not want to
be.

* * *

When afternoon came, Harry suggested they
walk along the cliffs now that her knee had fully mended. He sent
the coach ahead to the next village.

"You know," Harry said solemnly to Louisa,
"we will soon be reaching Penryn."

He did not need to say more. She knew what
his thoughts were. That was the problem with Harry and her. They
knew each other far too well, and he obviously did not like what he
saw in her.

She felt an utter failure. She'd been unable
to help Harry find the Cornwall lord, she'd axed any hopes of
gaining that little house and a comfortable income, and she'd never
have a champion in the House of Lords.

Worst of all, she would never know the love
of Harry Blassingame, Earl of Wycliff.

Had someone told her six weeks ago that
she'd fall desperately in love, she would have committed them to
Bedlam. She disliked all men as much as she disliked Godwin. Or so
she thought.

But she had not reckoned on finding a man
who read her thoughts, or on finding a man who would risk his own
life to save hers, or of finding a man whose sensual presence
invaded her very dreams.

She knew, too, he had a commanding enough
presence and a keen enough mind to have been a force of great power
in the House of Lords.

A pity the world would not know what a
capable leader it had lost.

"I beg that you not pick any wild flowers
today, my love."

My love
? She looked at him with questioning eyes.

"Sorry. A habit picked up in front of
innkeepers, I'm afraid."

If only he meant
it
. "I believe, my lord, I have
learned
not
to pick
crocus that grown wild at cliff's edge." She gave a little laugh
and skipped ahead of him.

"What makes you so energetic today?" he
asked.

"Three weeks of being cooped up either in a
traveling coach or in an innkeeper's stuffy bed chamber."

He caught up with her and offered his arm,
and she tucked hers into his.

"I apologize that I haven't told you before
how grateful I am for your care while I was sick."

"'Twas nothing."

"Nothing indeed! You did not leave my side
for six days."

"Had it been me, you would have done the
same."

He set his warm hand over hers. "I would,
Louisa. It seems you know me far too well."

"As you know me."

"You're right, once again."

"I am most happy you realize that, my
lord."

"Harry," he said in a throaty voice.

"Harry," she repeated, her voice soft as she
squeezed his hand.

"I don't know if I'll ever become accustomed
to night falling at four in the afternoon as it does here," he
said. "It appears from my map that we'll barely reach Mevagissey by
dark."