She could tell by the way he spoke that he had no joy in his tasks. She understood the idea in principle. After all, she had no love of washing the laundry or learning bookkeeping. They were tasks that had to be accomplished and she had no servants to do them anymore. What if his entire day, every day, were filled with such things? Then being an earl would be no boon but a horrible life of drudgery no better than what the lowest footman or maid had.
She reached forward and touched his hand. They were both gloved, and yet the warmth seeped through as if she were touching a flame. “You paint a very bleak picture, my lord. Surely your life cannot be so terrible.”
His hand flipped over to clasp hers. It was too intimate a gesture and she ought to pull back. But she didn’t. She liked the feel of his large hand surrounding hers.
“No, no,” he said. “It is not so terrible. Certainly not now when I have a beautiful woman with whom to discuss it. And excellent food ahead as well.” At his words, the carriage slowed. They had arrived at the inn. She looked through the window to see a quaint building on the outskirts of London. And though it wasn’t a coaching inn, their carriage had plenty of room.
She waited as she knew she ought, and within a moment the footman opened the door and handed her out. She descended as she always imagined she would: with a liveried footman before her and a handsome man behind. She stepped out into the darkness, feeling her curls bob about her ears in the breeze. She shivered as it was not yet spring and her gown was too thin. But Lord Redhill was beside her in a moment, helping her adjust her wrap while shielding her from the wind with his body. And then together they stepped into the inn as stately as any couple could walk into a ballroom.
They were greeted at the door by the innkeeper, who did not look at all like a majordomo. He was of middle years and middle girth, but his smile was all welcome as he bowed before Lord Redhill.
“Everything is prepared, my lord. Even found the almonds, just like you said.”
Helaine felt her excitement surge. “Almonds? Truly? I’ve never had them, but my father said they were delightful. They’re from India, aren’t they? He discovered them at…oh.” Her voice trailed away when she finally remembered what her father had said about them. Almonds were an aphrodisiac, and he had learned about them in a brothel. She wasn’t supposed to know that, of course, but her father had been so far into his cups he hadn’t realized he was speaking to his young daughter.
“They are just a nut, my dear,” said his lordship, his voice and his words designed to soothe her. “A particular favorite of mine and delicious when roasted. I shall be pleased to see your very first taste.”
She flushed and looked away. Of course he was lying. Almonds must cost a fortune, and no man bought such a thing without hoping to make good use of their other properties. But she was spared the necessity of answering as they were ushered into a cozy room with a cheerful fire, a table laid out for two, and a long couch with large pillows. The innkeeper took her gloves and wrap and set them on the table nearby. Lord Redhill shed his outdoor attire as well, and then took her hand flesh to flesh while the innkeeper slipped discreetly away.
She knew she was trembling. Seeing the very cozy nature of this room, she knew she would end up in his arms before the evening’s end. But even as the idea shook her, a part of her was already justifying it. What harm would a kiss be? Or a few more? She was already ruined, so no harm at all, and nothing more than they had already done.
He escorted her to a seat by the fire. He did nothing untoward, not even stroking her palm, and yet her heart was beating so fast. She found it hard to catch her breath.
“Would you care for some more wine?” he asked as she made a valiant attempt to gather her wits.
“Yes, that would be lovely.”
He poured and brought them both glasses. He sat beside her on the couch and took a drink, closing his eyes as he appreciated the taste.
“Not exquisite, but not so bad either.” He opened his eyes to look at her, so she hastily took her own sip.
“Lovely,” she said, though she hadn’t tasted a thing.
He looked at her a long moment, then he sighed. “You are nervous, Helaine, and I don’t wish you to be. What can I do to help?”
He understood! She smiled warmly at him and took another long sip from her wine. And when she was done, she managed to look at his face and not think of much beyond his beauty. He was a very handsome man in a very ordinary way. Nothing stood out, nothing made any part of his face more patrician or very angular. His nose was perfect for his face. His jawline firm without being harsh. And there was enough softness to make him appear relaxed, saving him from being too stern.
“You remind me of a stag I once saw,” she said abruptly. “He was in the distance, standing there looking out while his family grazed nearby. He had antlers out to…” She couldn’t even bridge the gap with her arms. “Well, anyway, they were huge. There was nothing unusual about the sight. We were forever seeing deer, so he was just the papa watching while his family ate. But he was stately, you understand, and powerful. I vow they were the happiest deer family in England. That is what you remind me of.”
He blinked at her words, obviously stunned. “I am at a loss,” he said. Then when she went to drink some more, he stopped her. His hand came around hers and he held the glass away from her mouth. “And I believe we should eat some dinner soon.”
She looked down at his hand, so large and so warm. He surrounded her wrist. He could likely break it just by squeezing his fingers. And yet, she never feared him. She could say that of no other man, not even her father. Sometimes when he got drunk, he could be violent. Not against people, but against the furniture, certainly. He used to throw the empty bottles. She’d learned early not to go anywhere near after he called for the third bottle.
“Do you ever drink to excess?” she asked as she looked at his hand.
“Depends on what you mean by excess. There were a few times when I was a stumbling drunk,” he said, “but that was many years ago now. Mostly it has been my sad task to call the carriages for my friends and to hold their heads while they…” He cleared his throat. “Well, you understand.”
She giggled. “Yes, I certainly understand. My father’s valet had that terrible task until he quit. My mother after that. Then no one at all.”
“Because he left?”
She nodded. “Because he left. But he was forever leaving, then turning up at the oddest times. I sometimes think I shall walk upstairs and find him sitting there, easy as you please, with a glass of brandy in his hand.”
“He sounds like an unsteady fellow.”
She snorted. “He was that and more. But he was charming, too, and he could always make me laugh.”
He smiled as if he understood. Too late, she realized that she was speaking too much, too freely. What dressmaker’s father had a valet? But then he was speaking and she became caught up in his words again.
“It’s easy to make little girls laugh,” he said. “When I came home from school, I used to spin my sister around such that her legs went flying. Or sometimes I’d wrap her in a bear hug of a greeting. She used to try to wriggle free, but I held on tight until she complained that she couldn’t breathe. But in truth, it was I who was breathless. Gwen doesn’t look it, but she has strength in her arms. I used to tell her she had muscles like a sailor.”
“You did not!”
“I most certainly did. I think that is why she has picked that baron of hers. He’s tall, but still scrawny. I think she could best him in a fight.”
Helaine recoiled in mock horror. “That’s terrible! To say such a thing of your sister.”
“Oh, but she’ll say it herself, you know. My sister is no shrinking violet, and caring for my mother is no easy task.”
“Is she bedridden, then?”
He nodded. “Sometimes. When the headaches are bad.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “It has been this way since I was a child. My mother is frail; my sister is not.”
“Your father is a charming rogue, but you are not.”
He arched his brows. “Are you saying I am not charming?”
“I am saying you are not a rogue.” When he didn’t respond, she answered his unspoken question. “Yes, I have learned a little about your father, the Earl of Willington. A jolly good fellow, by all accounts. Has the devil’s
