The Earl's Passionate Plot (4 page)

By heavens, the girl's peevishness was beginning to really irk.

"I thought you said he was overly-polite and far too ingratiating?" Mariah snapped.

"Those are clearly affectations to cover his obvious character flaws."

"He's more agreeable than you give him credit," Mariah retorted with a passion that actually sounded as if she believed it to be true.

As all four of the other ladies now regarded her with raised eyebrows, she realized she was every bit as surprised by her outburst as they.
Agreeable
? Had she just declared the pompous, domineering earl to be
agreeable
? Ridiculous. With all eyes on her and their future at stake, though, she was duty bound to defend her position.

"
That is, by all accounts he has dealt fairly in business and is properly devoted to managing his estate and looking after his assets."

There. That was at least truthful.
The earl had shown himself to be exceedingly devoted to looking after his assets.
And anyone else's assets, too
, if the gossips were to be believed. Particularly assets of the feminine kind.

"It hardly speaks well of a man that he devotes himself to his assets," Miss
Vandenhoff said.

"I believe Miss
Langley's point was that he is known for dealing fairly in business," the girl's mother said with a patience that bordered on the miraculous. "Fairness is a quality to be admired. It is good to hear that of him."

"I'm sure there are a great many admirable qualities in the earl," Mamma added. "Perhaps as Miss
Vandenhoff gets to know him—and as all of us do—we will see him with convivial eyes."

"
Mariah already does," Ella piped up. "I didn't notice at first, but as she pointed out a few days ago, he is at least pleasant to look at. When he smiles, at any rate, like he did tonight at dinner."

And again all eyes were on Mariah. Poor, dear Ella. She simply didn't know when to stay silent, did she? And Mariah's cheeks, drat them, did not know when not to flame red. She would have given anything to have a reasonable excuse to go running from the room just now.

Fortunately, Miss Vandenhoff managed to get everyone's attention back onto herself.

"I didn't notice anything pleasant about the man's appearance,"
she announced. "He's far too tall and I cannot abide such thick, unruly hair. Not that I wasted time looking at him, of course."

Miss
Vandenhoff 's words made no sense. She thought the man was too tall and his waves of dark hair too thick? There could only be one explanation. No wonder Miss Vandenhoff was so difficult and rude:
she was obviously a lunatic
.

It would have to be a very addled female, indeed, who could possibly not notice the chiseled line of his lordship's classical jaw, the knowing turn of his sculpted lips, the breadth of his shoulders under the elegant cut of his coat. And his eyes! Heavens, one would very nearly have to be dead
—or at least have no sight of their own—to overlook the tantalizing fire that burned steadily behind his midnight dark eyes. Poor Miss Vandenhoff must have left her faculties behind in America if she were truly oblivious to all that.

Lord Dovington might have any number of things wrong with him, but none of them had anything whatsoever to do with his appearance.

"Please, Mabel," her mother scolded. "Have a care what you say."

"If you'd prefer I keep my opinions to myself, Mother, I will quite gladly do so."

The girl's impudence was insufferable. Mariah was quite shocked at it, actually. Poor Mrs. Vandenhoff seemed dreadfully uncomfortable as she could do little more here in this public setting than to beg her daughter to behave.

"
Of course I value your opinion, my dear. But we are guests here. Isn't there anything that could make you feel more charitable toward his lordship?"

"
Perhaps she would like me to ask him to arrive for dinner tomorrow night six inches shorter and balding," Mariah grumbled. "Though I've no idea what we can do about the fact that he's puffed-up and overly stiff."

Mamma's face went ashen and Ellen gasped in horror as the words left Mariah's lips.
Neither of them, however, were looking at her. No, their gaze went beyond her, toward the doorway of their comfortable drawing room.

Mariah knew
—of course—that his lordship was standing there.

Dovington hesitated in the doorway.
My, but Miss Langley could turn a phrase. He supposed it was unfortunate that most of her best phrases seemed to be aimed at belittling him, but truly he didn't entirely mind. The look of astonishment and horror he'd read on her expression when she realized he'd overheard—twice now—had proven to be quite priceless.

Once again, she did not let him down. Slowly, she turned to face him and the pink flush of her
rosy cheeks first drained away, then flared to a raging blush that made her appear more the impulsive schoolgirl than the laced-up spinster he knew her to be. At least, that seemed to be what she wished for him to believe about her.

These periodic outbursts indicated her lacing
might not be quite as tight as she might give impression. She had chinks in her armor of self-control that he found amply entertaining, and enticing. Her reckless insults gave him a glimpse of a woman of strong will, but of strong passions, as well. The best thing about Miss Langley's unbridled tongue, however, was the fact that her careless words continued to place her at his mercy.

"I'm sorry, were you not expecting us to join you?" he asked.

"Er, but of course," she stammered, taking on the role of hostess as clearly her stunned mother was suddenly speechless. "Come in, gentlemen."

Mr.
Vandenhoff had come up behind Dovington, his waddling gait keeping him several steps behind so that he had not been privy to Miss Langley's tirade. He appeared not to notice the obvious agitation of the women just now, either. It seemed they were upset by more than just Miss Langley's sharp words regarding her guest. What other interesting discussion had he missed here?

"Your cook is to be commended for that excellent mea
l," the earl said, finding a place where he could prop an elbow against the mantle and preside over the others in the room.

"Yes, it was most excellent, indeed," Mr.
Vandenhoff said. "My family and I have been enjoying trying the new dishes we are discovering on our stay in your country."

Mrs.
Vandenhoff agreed with her husband whole heartedly, but Miss Vandenhoff made a noise something akin to a snort. It was not what anyone would call attractive. In fact, very little about Miss Vandenhoff was what anyone would call attractive.

Not that the girl had unpleasant features, exactly, but she simply failed to use them to any advantage. She seemed surly and ready to fight at the least opportunity. Her version of willful defiance was not nearly so engaging as Miss Langley's. No, while the earl found himself eager to step into the fray offered by Miss Langley's sharp words and flashing glances, he wanted to do nothing more with Miss
Vandenhoff than hand her over to her father and suggest a good spanking might be in order.

That did not bode well for his plans. Not well indeed. He needed to get his mind o
ff the challenged posed by Miss Langley and get it back on a more productive task. He needed to find some way to make Miss Vandenhoff suddenly blossom into a charming, desirable creature.

That seeming impossibility made his head spin. Surely it would be a much more productive task to amuse himself with Miss Langley. She could do nothing to bring him closer to his goal, but she certainly could make his efforts in the meanwhile less dismal.

Then again, perhaps she could play a more useful role, after all. Dovington would keep his eyes open for just the right opportunity. Any opportunity.

The air of tension in the room lessened some as the conversation flitted from polite discussion about the English diet to trends in American dining and somehow from there onto
a little dog Mrs. Vandenhoff once had and was now contemplating getting another. For some reason she wanted Dovington's opinion on the matter and he replied simply that if she wanted a dog, she ought to get herself a dog.

"So you are a dog lover, are you?" the woman asked.

"I suppose that is the term for it," he replied. "My father was very much against keeping pets when I was a child but after we... that is, my mother and I lived for a time at my grandfather's home and I was allowed several dogs there."

"So you must keep hounds at your estate," Mr.
Vandenhoff said. "I've heard that is very much the thing with your set."

Yes, Dovington had heard that, too. "No, I'm afraid I have no do
gs at Dovington Downs. I've been too caught up with business of late and feel it would be irresponsible to keep dogs that I have no time to exercise or entertain."

Or funds to put the kennels in proper order or
supply food of the quality needed to sustain healthy hounds. Someday he would, though. Someday he'd make that damned estate into a
home
. The way Renford Hall had been before... well, the way he liked to imagine it had once been.

"I don't know that I would like keeping hounds," Mrs.
Vandenhoff said. "It would be most inconvenient for living in Town. I should like another pug, I believe."

And so the conversation went back onto that. Should she get herself a pug or should she not? Mr.
Vandenhoff complained that the last thing their household needed was another body snoring through the night, as pugs were apparently wont to do, and he seemed to think what his wife needed was a loyal, regal spaniel. The other ladies were drawn into the conversation to give their opinions on the matter and this subject occupied them all for a surprisingly long time.

Dovington began to wonder if he'd have any further chance this evening to watch Miss Langley's eyes spark with defiance
. Could he provoke that willful tongue of hers yet again? What other interesting things was that tongue capable of?. It seemed pleasant conversation was all he could get out of her right now and he was finding that deadly dull. The whole group of them were boring him to insensibility and all he could think of was finding a way to get Miss Langley alone.

"But if not
a pug, I can't imagine what other type of dog I should have," Mrs. Vandenhoff was saying.

"We visited Bath several years ago and met a lady there who kept a nice dog," Miss Renford chirped brightly. "It was quite small with very lovely white hair. She called him Percy and he was perfect for a lady's companion, I thought."

"And what sort of dog was he? Pomeranian, perhaps?"

Miss Renford shook her head. "I don't know. Mamma, do you recall it?"

"Yes, such a lovable little thing. I don't know what it was, though. I'm sorry."

"A Maltese, I believe," Miss Langley announced. "He was terribly sweet. Ella begged for weeks after to get one of her own."

"And I never did get one," the younger girl said, giving a faux pout. "I'm still very upset."

"He sounds delightful. I've never heard of the breed
," Mrs. Vandenhoff said.

"We have a picture of one," Miss Renford declared, then frowned. "At least, we did. Whatever happened to that book, Mariah? You know, the one Papa bought us."

"In the library, I believe," Miss Langley replied. "Remember how we had to keep it up on the top shelf when our neighbor Mrs. Carroll and her small children were here?"

Miss Renford nodded. "That's right, I'd forgotten. Her littlest one was determined to tear out pages and keep them for himself. The engravings are really quite lifelike."

Mrs. Vandenhoff leaned in toward her surly daughter and patted her knee. "Did you hear that, Mabel? You are very fond of dogs. We'll have to spend some time in the library during our stay here."

Miss
Vandenhoff was less than enthusiastic, but Mrs. Renford and her daughters appeared fairly ecstatic to find something humane about the girl.

"Perhaps we would all like to see the book," Mrs. Renford suggested. "Mariah, why don't you see if you can go find it and bring it in here?
"

Miss Langley nearly leaped up at the opportunity to escape the party, at least
for a moment.

"Of course, Mamma. I'll get it right now."

"I'll help you," Dovington said with equal enthusiasm. "As it's up on the top shelf, and all."

Miss Langley pauses, and slid him a glance.
She seemed slightly confused and for a moment he caught the hint of worry. It was gone immediately, though, and her expression showed nothing more than the usual overly polite smile she reserved especially for him.

"Very well. I suppose if anyone is to topple off the step stool I would rather have it be you than me."

She spoke the words so sweetly that somehow she managed to make them sound affable. No one in the room realized she was secretly wishing him to break his damn neck. He rewarded her with a smile and a devilish cocked eyebrow he also made sure no one else noticed.

"Or at least I could be there to catch
you
when you topple," he suggested.

Apparently she found that as tantalizingly easy to picture as he did. She blushed in earnest and he felt a distinct sense of accomplishment. Miss Langley presented herself as pristine, yet she understood every one of his innuendos.
He was enjoying their game to the fullest.

They left the drawing room and he let her lead the way to the library, as if he could not find the path there in the dark with a blindfold.
He was glad for light filling the corridors now, though, so that he could admire the sway of Miss Langley's hips, enjoy the defiant sparks in her eyes when she glanced back to find him admiring.

"The library is here, sir," she said.

"Pity. I was hoping perhaps you had moved it upstairs. Near the bedrooms."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but we use our bedrooms for nothing more than sleeping. This is the area of the house reserved for entertainments."

"Then I'm exceedingly thankful we are here and not there."

She huffed at his impertinence and marched over to a wall of very tall shelving. Pointing with authority, she directed his gaze upward. He let his eyes catch on all her finer qualities as she shifted, of course.

"Up there. That large volume, bound in the burgundy color. That is the book of dog breeds."

"That one?" he nodded upwards in the general direction. "
There must be a dozen large volumes on that shelf. Huge, actually. You impress me, Miss Langley. You're clearly quite fond of the over large ones."

"I enjoy reading, sir. Trust me, there is nothing else in this room that could possibly interest me. At all."

He merely shrugged. "Books have their allure, I agree. But you might surprise yourself, Miss Langley, to learn there are other delights between the covers besides reading."

"I think my mother is expecting us to
delight our guests waiting in the drawing room with an actual book just now, sir, not some tawdry display of schoolboy bawdiness."

"
You're probably right. I can hear Miss Vandenhoff's scathing distain already if I were to suggest anything slightly off-color."

"You'd be put well in your place, that's for certain."

"It's going to take much more than a book to draw any delight out of her, I'm afraid. What do you suppose can be done? Surely you can think of some way to make the girl seem less of a... less..."

He honestly couldn't think of any word to fit there that wouldn't be taken as a direct insult toward the young lady. Miss Vandenhoff was a shrew and a
nag of the worst kind, but even he wasn't low enough to go around saying so. Besides, he was hoping for her to be his sister-in-law one of these days. How on earth that would happen, he had no clue. His cousin would likely arrive tomorrow, feel the sting of the chit's sharp tongue, and go running back to his club.

"I'm sure she's simply
a bit irritable due to the travel," Miss Langley said. "Surely tomorrow we'll begin to see the softer side of Miss Vandenhoff."

"I certainly hope so. I'd hate for my cousin to arrive and find her out of sorts," he muttered, though he could hardly imagine how else anyone might find the girl.

"Your cousin?"

"Yes. Didn't I mention? My cousin, Edmund Chadburne, is expected to arrive tomorrow. I'm sure that I told you."

"No. You did not. I would have remembered."

"I was sure that I had."

"You've been too busy pretending I find your insinuations amusing, apparently. You neglected to mention anything of importance, like another guest scheduled to arrive."

"Well, I've
told you now. He should be here shortly after noon."

"And is he as charming as you are?"

"Almost. You'll like him."

She rolled her eyes. "I can't wait. Now please bring over the stool and collect the book that we came for."

"I could lift you and hold you until you get what you want," he suggested, purely for his own entertainment.

She stabbed him with her glare.
"No thank you. The stepping stool, please."

"Very well," he said, complying and dragging over the stool so he could step up and retrieve the book.
"One of these days, Miss Langley, you're bound to let someone come crashing though those barriers you've put up."