The Earl's Passionate Plot (11 page)

As usual, everyone here would be much better off without him.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his coat as if suddenly bored with his gentlemanly perusal of the needlework he'd been pretending to admire. He stepped away from Miss Langley and her angry-sea eyes to speak loudly enough to be heard around the room.

"You have an excellent hand, Miss Langley. You should keep at that and it will be quite a showpiece when you are done. For me, however, I beg you excuse me. I must retire early as I intend to ride for Dovington Downs first thing in the morning."

"Dovington Downs, sir?" Mr. Vandenhoff asked from his seat near the ladies, probably thrilled for this interruption.

"Yes," the earl replied, moving away from Miss Langley as if he did not even recall she existed. "I have several pressing matters in the works and I dare not leave my steward alone for too long to manage them on his own. Oh, he's quite a competent man, but I cannot rest easy until these things are settled, you know."

"Indeed I do," Mr. Vandenhoff agreed. "Mrs. Vandenhoff chides me all the time, saying I work too hard and that I should have people do more of my things for me. We men of business know, though, don't we? If something is to be done right, we're going to have to do it ourselves."

"Er, exactly," Dovington replied, glancing at Miss Langley and pushing aside a wave of indecent thoughts regarding the various things that ought to be done to her.

Her eyes narrowed as if she could read his mind. "And when might we expect you to return, sir?"

"I should be back in three days."

Miss Renford
looked up from her book and clapped her hands. "That means you'll return in time for our ball! You will be here for the ball, won't you?"

Where Miss Langley's blond hair was the color of heated gold, her younger sister's was pale like the petals of a spring flower. Almost-white ringlets framed her face and her huge blue eyes blinked up at him.
The elder girl's gaze always seemed to burn with the heat of an erupting volcano, but this one waited for his answer like a frightened rabbit. He could hardly be short with her.

"I will be back in time for your ball, Miss Renford," he responded.

She was far more happy about that than she should have been, but he supposed she was young and naive and couldn't imagine that he might not be such a fine addition to their number as his title might imply. It had been so long since he was confronted with actual innocence and zeal that it made him feel very out of place, indeed.

"Well, then," Miss Langley said, as if speaking for the group. "I suppose we'll just have to find ways to entertain ourselves in your absence."

Damn it, but he had no doubt she would do just that and the very thought was like a cold, hard mass in his chest. He would be gone and things would carry on here just fine. Even better than with him present, perhaps. Hell, by the time he came back, maybe Miss Langely would have attached not only his cousin and the heiress, but herself and her curate, as well.

That
was a thing, he realized, he was very happy not to be here to see.

Moring arrived, finally, with gray skies and singing birds. Mariah welcomed it. She hadn't slept
very well. Actually, she simply hadn't slept, at all.

Her mind had been tossed around by waves of emotion
that, even all these hours later, she still couldn't quite understand. She hated that horrible earl. How dare he risk ruining her, kissing her as he had done and drawing from her things she hadn't even known she had held inside? Then he was spiteful enough to taunt her afterwards, reminding her who she was, what she was. He'd been right when he said she was unworthy, but she'd never forgive him for saying it.

But it hadn't been rage and unforgiveness that
had kept her awake all through the night. It had been those lingering memories of his searing kiss, and then that cold, defeated shadow that had come over his eyes when he spoke of his father. She tried to tell herself she hadn't seen it, that it had meant nothing. But she knew she was wrong.

The earl thought himself even less worthy than he thought her. He had given up on any of the usual hopes and dreams of a man
; he had everything, and yet he had nothing. He was just acting out his duty and waiting to die.

Try as she
might, she couldn't hate him despite his cruel words, despite his reckless kisses and unrelenting selfishness. If not for her step-father who had given her a measure of respectability, for her mother who loved her unconditionally, and her sister who adored her—most of the time—she supposed she could be in the same dark place that he was. She could understand why he treated others with so little concern. He had no concern for himself.

And that, she knew, was tragic.

She still wanted him out of her house and far, far away from her life, but she just couldn't find it in herself to wish him evil. In fact, she had a ridiculous notion of what she could do to possible help the man. It was silly, of course, but maybe once this was done and he was off living his bleak, friendless life at his father's estate there was one little thing she could do to make him more human.

It was obvious what the man needed:
a puppy
.

She'd told Mr. Skrewd that she'd visit him today to make sure the puppy she selected for Ella was still the one that she wanted, and now she'd pick one out for the earl. She hoped there was still one available, actually. Hadn't the curate told her many of them were already spoken for? If she wanted to chose another, she'd best get herself over there.

With the sun just cresting the horizon and the sky a smear of milky golds and pinks, Mr. Skrewd would likely be preparing for morning prayer very soon. He might talk with some of the parishioners about the remaining puppies and perhaps even find takers for them all. If she was serious in her intent to gift one to the earl—and for some reason it seemed that she was—she'd best do so quickly.

It was an excellent excuse to give up on the tossing and turning. She leapt out of bed and selected clothing she could don without assistance. No doubt she looked less than idea
l when, not fifteen minutes later, she dashed out one of the side doors and headed for the little hut with the faded red door that Mr. Skrewd called his home.

Her skirts sucked up the early dew and she shivered with chill, even as the sunlight grew brighter and morning mists began to clear around her. It dawned on her that this was a ridiculous, foolish errand and that she must need her head examined. Rushing out this early in the day in hopes of securing a puppy, of all things, for the horrible Earl of Dovington who seemed to care nothing for her but to make her life miserable?
There was no reason to it.

Perhaps she merely wanted an excuse to visit the puppies. No one could tell her
that
wasn't a perfectly reasonable goal. Who wouldn't go out early to enjoy the delights of wagging tails and fat, furry bellies? Puppies were nothing less than a gift from God and the fact that she wanted to share one of them with the hard-hearted earl simply meant she was a decent, Christian soul.

The sun was a low golden orb just over the horizon now and
Dovington squinted into it. He'd not had much sleep and even in the mist-blurred light of morning, it was too bright for him. He didn't like waiting, but there was nothing to do as his carriage was being readied. He was glad to be leaving before any of the family were up; the last thing he needed was to run into Miss Langley again. Clearly he could not be trusted around that woman.

From the corner of his eye he noticed a dog. The curate's dog, if he was correct. What the devil was that thing doing here at this hour? She disappeared around the far corner of the house, so he followed.

A pathway ran along there, through a dense thicket of lilac that nearly overwhelmed him with its fresh, heady scent, and then on behind several other garden areas. The path meandered away from the house and up toward a tree-covered hillside. There was that little hut, the old gamekeeper's hut, Miss Langley had called it. Oddly enough, the dog went to the hut and scratched at the door.

Miss Langley said they had a lodger there, did she? Well, whoever it was must give out scraps to the neighborhood dogs.
Rather a quaint picture, in fact. He almost smiled with some misplaced sense of nostalgia.

But then the door opened and he could see just who this scrap-feeding lodger was.

Mr. Ben Skrewd. Indeed, the curate himself.

He lived here? Why should a respectable curate live in something like a hermit's hut behind the home of a widow with two
very pretty daughters? Having a house readied in the village, Miss Langley had said. Hell, Dovington could think of any number of reasons the curate might wish those preparations to dawdle.

And just what did Miss Langley think of this? She probably loved it, having her admirer so close at hand
. Did she think he would marry her and give her a fine place in her little society?

S
he hardly needed a husband for that. She'd obviously done very well for herself, taking over after her step-father's death and clearly making herself a valued and respected member of this community. Dovington should never have used the accident of her birth to tease her. She was every bit the lady and he'd been wrong to suggest otherwise.

His self-chastisement ceased immediately, though, when the weathered red door opened
wider and Dovington realized Mr. Skrewd wasn't alone. Miss Langley was with him.

Dovington could see them clearly, though it was obvious they were too deep in conversation to glance over his way.
He ground his teeth, freezing behind a screen of greenery, waiting to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving.

By God,
the two of them were in that tiny hut, and the curate wasn't simply giving spiritual comfort. By the contented smile on Miss Langley's face, it appeared the type of comfort the curate had been offering was just what she had come for.

But a
t this ungodly hour of the day? The sun was barely up. What on earth could the chit be thinking, to show up here now? Dovington had seen no signs of her inside the house, so how had she come to be out here already?

His blood raced hot. Not
already
. Perhaps the word he ought to use for her presence behind that red door was
still
. There was one glaringly obvious reason why he might not have seen her in her own home this morning: she quite possibly had been out here in this hut
all night
!

He balled his fists and considered marching over to Mr. Skrewd and planting a facer that would allow
the good reverend to present his morning homily right at the very gates of St. Peter. He held himself back, though.

What was it to him if Miss Langley chose to ruin herself this way?
She was nothing to him. No, she was less than nothing. She was a nuisance and an annoyance. He could not be happier if she found some man to take her and get her out of his hair.

Hell, instead of pummeling the man, he ought to go up to Skrewd and shake his damn hand. So Miss Langley thought she could get herself a husband by playing fast with the lowly curate? Well, that was perfectly fine. Let her. She could marry the man, r
aise ten screaming brats in whatever village would have them, and be out of The Grove.

Unless, of course, the curate was simply taking advantage of the situation. Did he realize his little ladybird would not bring the house and the lands into their union? As that bit of information had come as a surprise to Miss Langley, perhaps their neighbors had not been made fully aware of things, either. It was entirely possible Mr. Skrewd saw in Miss Langley a charming addition to his bed
and
an easy escape from his hut.

Dovington was back to considering fisticuffs again. No, he would not. He did not care what Miss Langley did
. If she had made her own bed with Mr. Skrewd, it was her lot to lie in it. No matter how much better she might look nestled into the over-large master suit at Dovington Downs.

Hell and damnation, he would not let his mind wander there.

He was leaving this place. His carriage was being brought round even now, his horses were rested, and there was nothing holding him back.

Certainly not Miss Langely. She and Mr. Skrewd seemed perfectly content
in that faded doorway of that little hut. Anyone but Dovington would count them a lovely couple and wish them well.

Dovington wished them to the devil. While he was at it, he wished himself there, too. Maybe an eternity tormented by demons would make him forget how Miss Langley had felt in his arms or how the pain nearly radiated from her when he insulted her last night.

Indeed, she was much better off with her curate than she could ever be with someone like him.

Chapter
15

Mariah's head was swimming. Their ball was this evening and she'd been consumed by preparations the full past three days. Dinner was already over for their usual house party, now guests for the ball would be arriving soon. Still, her list of things to get done did not seem to be growing any shorter. Whose foolish notion had it been to attempt this sort of thing, anyway? It should have taken a month to prepare for a proper ball, not the mere three days she'd been allowed.

And where was that dratted earl?
He'd said he'd be back in time for the ball. Not that she cared one way or another, but he'd promised Ella and it would be in very poor form to let the girl down. This was the first ball they'd ever hosted and even though Ella was not officially out yet, Mamma had decided there could be nothing wrong with allowing her to participate in the country dances here in their own home. Ella wanted to be able to say she'd had an earl in attendance at her first ball. If Dovington knew what was good for him, he'd turn up in time.

Besides,
Mariah had asked Mr. Skrewd to hold back two puppies, and only one of them was supposed to remain here. Dovington had better show up and be happy with his puppy. If she had to keep it she'd find herself adoring it and feeding it and scratching it softly behind the ears and thinking of that dratted, vile man every time she did so.

That
was why she found herself watching out windows all day.
That
was why she asked the servants if they'd seen him over and over all day. She wanted to finish their business and be done with the man.

The past days had been very busy making plans for the ball. She'd taken great care, though, so make sure there was ample time for Mr. Chadburne to be in company with Miss Vandenhoff. Ella had been a great help in that area, coming up with entertainments for them all even if Mariah had been too busy with arrangements to participate with them. Mr. Skrewd had also been a
great asset, joining in on those entertainments and making up for Mariah's absence. She would have to thank him tonight for so generously giving his time while she was unavailable.

She and Mamma had invited a few others of their closest acquaintances so hopefully the atmosphere would be friendly and festive. Miss Vandenhoff had seemed to get better with every passing day and by tonight Mariah had every reason to expect the girl might be not merely tolerable, but actually pleasant. There was no doubt that the earl
—if he did ever deign to show up—would be satisfied with her efforts.

What better place to announce a betrothal than here at a ball amongst friends? Mariah was taking extra care that everything would be just perfect. Miss Vandenhoff would have this night to remember forever and Mariah was determined that i
t should be a happy memory. Perhaps that union had been devised by others, but there was no reason for the couple not to find themselves happy in it.

"Are you happy with your selection?"

Mariah jumped. She'd been alone in the corridor, pausing yet again to glance out the window at the still empty yard in front of the house, and had not expected Mr. Skrewd to be in this part of the house. But here he was.

"I... my selection?"

"The puppies," he explained. "Have you been to check on them again?"

"Yes, I was
out there. They certainly are a handful. I don't know how you've managed, so many bounding pups in your little hut out back."

"
Indeed, it has been rather chaotic ," Mr. Skrewd replied with a smile. "Still, it will seem awfully quiet once they are all gone."

"You've found homes for all of them, then?"

"I have, although one of those homes is with me. I decided Bess ought to be allowed the company of one of her pups after all this."

"You have a soft heart, sir. Take care no one learns of it or you'll soon find every needy dog dumped at your doorstep."

"Lord, I might never be out of your gracious lodgings here then. Who else would rent room to a man with more dogs than he has sense?"

"I'm sure many people would have gr
eat respect for it. So were you on your way back out to them now? You wish to say good-bye again?"

"Er, yes, I'm afraid so. Those little beasties have certainly grown on me."

"I understand. The back door of this wing is still unlocked, so you should be able to go out and then let yourself back in again."

"Thank you. I hope that
—"

But his hopes were interrupted when her mother appeared around the corner, coming from the main part of the house. She smiled when she saw Mariah and gave a friendly nod to Mr. Skrewd.

"Ah, here you are. What are you up to, hiding back here?"

Mr. Skrewd seemed decidedly uncomfortable, but Mariah knew her mother was simply teasing them. She knew all about the puppy surprise for Ella and it must come as no shock to see Mariah conspiring in a corridor with the owner of said puppies.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I was simply going to—" Mr. Skrewd began nervously.

Mamma waved her hand at him. "You were
talking about Ella's puppy. Yes, I know all about Mariah's big surprise for her sister. Thank you so much, Mr. Skrewd, for helping us give something to Ella that will mean so very much to her."

"Indeed, it is my pleasure, Mrs. Renford. And thank you for taking the little, er, angel off my hands."

"I'm sure your hands have been very full, Mr. Skrewd. I think it's lovely, though, that we can include so many wonderful things in our little impromptu ball this evening. A new pet for Ella, and an engagement being announced... what a remarkable evening it will be."

"An engagement, ma'am?" he asked.

Mamma pursed her lips and looked chagrined. "Heavens, was I not supposed to mention anything about that?"

"I don't think we are to speak of it just yet, Mamma, but of course Mr. Skrewd can know. He can certainly be trusted with Miss Vandenhoff's secret."

The poor man appeared as if he were not so sure that he could be trusted. "What is this? Miss Vandenhoff's secret?"

"Oh, it's hardly a secret, really. Surely you've noticed these past few days," Mariah said with a co
y little grin. "Miss Vandenhoff and Mr. Chadburne have been quite inseparable, haven't they? Oh, don't pretend to be surprised. It isn't the first time a wealthy merchant family has sought to improve their connections by introducing their daughter to a gentleman of high standing."

"But... Miss Vandenhoff and Mr. Chadburne?"

The curate seemed to have had no clue at all about this. Silly man. He was really going to have to learn to be more observant.

"It is why they are here, after all," Mariah explained. "The earl and Mr. Vandenhoff have some sort of understanding, apparently, and this has been pre-arranged."

"You can't really believe so? Surely not, Miss Langley. If Mr. Vandenhoff was so heartless to insist on matching his daughter with someone so clearly not of her choosing, why on earth would he select Chadburne and not the earl himself?"

"Mr. Chadburne is the earl's heir," Mariah said. "He is a fine gentleman. I've seen for myself how attentive he's been, showing himself to be everything charming and noble. Perhaps Miss Vandenhoff was not the one to first have the notion of finding a husband during her stay, but you must acknowledge that her demeanor has shown great improvement as the days have ticked by."

"Yes, but that is only due to... that is, you think that is because she is coming to love Mr. Chadburne?"

Mamma gave a matronly chuckle. "That is one of the main causes for improvement in a young lady's demeanor. I believe Mariah has done an excellent job arranging things. By the end of the ball tonight, I expect there will be no doubt in anyone's mind that Mr. Chadburne and Miss Vandenhoff are fully committed."

The subject seemed to very nearly terrify Mr. Skrewd. Mariah found his sudden pallor and schoolboy stammering quite amusing. She'd never known he was so anxious. But after all, he was rather young.

Perhaps the idea of marriage was still a frightening thing for him. Mariah could hardly blame him. It must be uncomfortable to have Mamma rattling on about it this way.
Besides, the couple in question were little more than strangers to them. It did seem a bit impertinent to be discussing such intimate details of their lives this way.

"It will all work out, Mr. Skrewd," Mariah said, helping him escape this conversation. "Now, why don't you go see to the puppies while we go see that everything is in place for the ball."

"The guests from the village will be arriving any time now," Mamma said. "And I was looking for you to help me with a few details, Mariah."

"Of course, Mamma."

"I'll leave you to your work then," Mr. Skrewd said, obviously eager to get away.

He mumbled some gracious thanks and then hurried down the corridor toward the
back doorway that would open onto the path closest to his little hut. Mariah took her mother's arm and led the way back toward the lighted rooms with all the bustling servants and loudly tuning musicians.

"Very well, Mamma, tell me what is still needed to be ready."

"Well, I was wanting to ask your opinion on the number of windows we have left open tonight, but now I feel awful about interrupting. You and Mr. Skrewd seemed quite sociable there in the darkened corridor."

"Mamma, please. I've asked you to leave that subject alone."

"And I do try, my dear, but you can't blame a woman for noticing. You've spent considerable time with him of late, haven't you? No, don't deny it, I know you've gone to his house more than was strictly necessary."

"You read too much into things, Mamma!"

"Do I? Or do I have reason to hope for not one, but two engagements to be announced by the end of this evening?"

"Heavens, Mamma! Now you're embarrassing me."

"But dearest, you know that I'm not blind. The man has been more cheerful than usual lately, and he's made every excuse possible to show up here each day. Oh, very well, if you insist I'll stop speaking of it. But I won't be one bit surprised when I learn you've given up your foolish intent to stay single."

Mariah gritted her teeth. There was no use arguing the point. Mamma was determined to cling to this notion of hers and it would only upset her to persist in denying things now. Once the ball was over and she could see for herself that there was nothing between her and Mr. Skrewd besides a few pleasantries and a concern for the puppies, then perhaps she could listen to reason.

She would be disappointed, of course, but that would likely be tempered by the announcement that Mr. Chadburne and Miss Vandenhoff were to be wed. When the earl invited them all to remove to Dovington Downs to prepare for the nuptials, then Mamma would forget all about her silly designs on Mr. Skrewd. She would have her home back, and they could once again focus on preparing for Ella's come-out next year.

Of course,
all that would depend on the earl's actual presence at the ball tonight, wouldn't it? Without him here to remove everyone to his estate the engagement would simply mean they'd be stuck with these houseguests a while longer and would be subjected to additional mooning and cows eyes all day long.

Drat that earl. Where on earth could he be and why wasn't he here as he promised he would be?

The earl was concealed in the dim recess of a doorway. He held his breath as Miss Langley and her mother walked by. He heard their voices go round the next corner as he ground his teeth.

So, Mrs. Renford knew of her daughter's secret visits to Mr. Skrewd's house, did she? And she expected an engagement. Of course, Dovington should not be surprised by any of this. He'd seen the pair of them
in the doorway of Skrewd's hut three days ago. He knew the passions inside Miss Langley, and he had eyes to see what any other man might see in her. Of course the curate would want her.

Dovington
had been an absolute idiot to have come back here hoping for something else.

Damn, when would he ever learn? He knew the truth about himself. How could he have been so ready to forget it all simply because his steward back at his estate had given him hopeful news? There was no hope where he was concerned.

So what if he had made farther strides than expected, paying off debts that he'd not been expected to pay for another two years? His house was still crumbling, needing far more than his pitiful reconstruction projects had been able to accomplish thus far. His tenants still lived in near poverty, his lands still lay fallow and unproductive. Had he really allowed himself to think—to dream—that perhaps he might consider a future for himself?

It was laughable. His estate was in tatters and Miss Langley was off limits to him.
Period. No matter how encouraging his steward had been about what he'd called "miraculous headway," nothing could change the fact of reality. All of Dovington's work now was to pay off in the future for Ned and his bride. Dovington had no right to hope for himself.

He waited until the voices and footsteps had faded into the distance then left the corridor. His task here was nearly done and soon he'd have no reason to remain. He'd put Miss Langley out of his mind and do what needed to be done.