To Tempt an Earl (23 page)

"He always opens a window?" Bethanny
finished.

"And who knows what that window will be."

"How did you get so wise?" Bethanny asked,
her heart softly melting into a relaxed state.

"Dear one, all you need to remember is where
I've come from and where I am now. After all, one needs to be
exceedingly wise to be married to a duke… especially one such as
mine." She grinned and nudged Bethanny's shoulder.

Bethanny laughed, her heart feeling lighter
than it had in so long.

Hope.

Lord Graham sat
on
the very edge of his luxurious carriage as it progressed into the
countryside around Bath. Every clip-clop of the matched bays'
hooves meant that he was one step closer to seeing her.

To setting his plan into action.

Though to be fair, he hadn't come up with
much more than to break up the engagement.

But that was enough. The particulars would
come later, once he evaluated the situation.

Once he evaluated
her.

His thoughts veered toward the dramatic as he
sighed and wondered — not for the first, or the twentieth time — if
Bethanny had missed him even a fraction of what he had missed
her.

Was her engagement a foolhardy way to try and
mend the broken heart his departure had caused? Shaking his head,
he knew it was wishful thinking that her attachment to him had been
so firm.

Though in his next thought, he questioned the
validity of such an argument. After all, if she were attached to
him, how could her loyalties switch so quickly?

Which brought him to his worst fears: that
the emotion, the passion, and loyalty was one-sided.

His.

But then he remembered their last kiss, her
forward manner — good heavens! Was she
that
forward with
Neville.

Graham saw red; not till he heard a
distinctive ripping noise did he glance down. In his distracted
anger, his grip had tightened to the point where he had pierced
through the padding below the carriage seat cushion.

Blast it all.

He needed to calm himself. Because all he was
doing was speculating. Nothing was known for sure.

Except the most damning of all: that Bethanny
wasn't his.

And nothing could have been worse.

Bethanny was strolling in the gardens with
Carlotta when a footman made determined strides toward them.
Glancing at Carlotta, Bethanny paused and waited, holding her
breath.

Could it be?

"Pardon, my ladies. But His Grace dispatched
me directly to inform you that Lord Graham's carriage has been
sighted." He bowed smartly. "Do you have a reply?"

Carlotta reached out and squeezed Bethanny's
gloved fingers, a smile spilling over her lips. "No, simply tell
His Grace we appreciate the information."

The footman bowed and strode away to deliver
the message to the duke.

"Did I not say that he would attend?"
Carlotta's grin grew unchecked.

"Yes, I scarcely let myself believe—"

"We haven't a moment to waste! Let's get you
to your room… and let the afternoon take its course." Carlotta
lifted an eyebrow, her gaze seeming to take wicked delight.

Bethanny bit her lip and stared at the large
stone structure of Greenford Waters. The next few days would likely
determine her future. How she wished she could simply know what the
end result would be.

But that wouldn't be faith.

And if there was one thing she had learned,
it's that with faith and trust come peace. And that peace was worth
its weight in gold.

With a deep breath she exhaled her anxiety
and said a silent prayer.

The peace returned, and a smile teased her
lips.

Carlotta led them to the servants' entrance
to make sure they wouldn't be seen. The large wooden door creaked
as Carlotta pushed it open. Still tugging on Bethanny's hand, she
glanced back with a saucy grin as they rounded a corner to take the
stairs.

"Oh my! What'er you—" A scullery maid was
rounding the corner at the same time. With a leap and startled
shout, the maid began to berate them only to gasp, cast her eyes
downward, and apologized. "A thousand pardons, my lady. I wasn't
payin' proper attention—"

"No need." Carlotta held up her gloved hand,
her cheeks a light dusting of pink. "If anyone should apologize, it
is I."

The maid seemed quite discomfited as her eyes
widened slightly at the apology of her betters.

Bethanny hid a smile. The poor maid must be
new, for almost everyone was accustomed to Carlotta's
unconventionality in dealing with the servants.

After all, she had practically
been
one a few years ago.

"Beggin' your pardon, miss." The maid
curtseyed to Bethanny, and she nodded in return as Carlotta tugged
her hand and they ascended the stone stairs that would lead them to
the hall so she could slip, unnoticed, into her room.

Bethanny trotted down the hall with Carlotta,
her bonnet strings bouncing against her arms as she made her way to
the room assigned to her. Swiftly slipping in, she drew in rapid
breaths against the tight corset.

"I'll leave you now, but I'll return post
haste once he has arrived. And don't fret. I take my role as
chaperone very seriously." She wagged her eyebrows. "And I'll
monitor Lord Graham's every move and report back."

"Perfect." Bethanny exhaled in gleeful
expectation.

"Now, try to relax. It's likely to be a long
afternoon. Did you gather the books you wished?"

"Yes."

"Brilliant. Now, if you'll excuse me."
Carlotta spun around and slipped through the door.

Bethanny sighed deeply and walked to the
window. Carlotta had purposefully given her a window that faced the
back wood, eliminating the danger of Lord Graham seeing her upon
his arrival from her window perch.

When Carlotta had passed the guest room
arrangement by the duke, he had agreed with her choice of location,
murmuring something about being thankful for the room's location on
the third floor.

Carlotta had giggled as she had explained his
strange comment.

Lord Graham had been quite the expert at
climbing… and the duke wasn't about to give him an opportunity to
exercise his prowess.

So as Bethanny glanced down at the vivid
green grass below, she shivered slightly, thinking that it was
indeed a fair way to fall. Though there was something utterly
romantic about a suitor being so desperate to attempt such a
feat.

She glanced back down.

Perhaps not.

If anything was
not
romantic
,
it was the suitor plunging to his death.

With a slight shake of her head, she rose and
evaluated the teetering piles of books on the table next to her
small sitting area. After scanning their titles, she selected
The History of Edinburgh.

As she opened the first page, a knock sounded
on the door.

"Yes?"

Lady Southridge bustled into the room,
closing the door silently behind her. Her green eyes were
illuminated with a mischievous sparkle, and her hands were
clapping. "He is here! In my haste to find you, I almost knocked
over a footman. Poor dear, I think I scared a few years from his
life."

"Carlotta and I had a similar instance with a
scullery maid," Bethanny confided, her tone light.

"Ha-ha!" Lady Southridge laughed. "Now, I can
only stay a moment, I want to be there to assist my brother—"

"Torment, you mean?" Bethanny grinned as she
teased.

"What cheek! How can you accuse me — ah, very
well. Yes. I want to torture him. I still haven't forgiven him for
his utter stupidity in fleeing to Scotland." She exhaled an
exasperated sigh. "Don't you tell me you don't think he deserves
it." Lady Southridge narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips a she
studied Bethanny.

"Indeed he does." She nodded.

"Good girl. Now, I'll report back directly,
but I have a little brother to… welcome." Lady Southridge giggled
and turned to open the door.

Lord Graham shot out of his seat the moment
the carriage wheels ceased their movement. Without waiting for the
footman's assistance in opening the carriage door, he lifted the
latch and descended the single step till his Hessian boots crunched
the gravel beneath them. Taking a fortifying breath, he narrowed
his eyes at the large estate. Built before the Tudors, the stone
structure was not only imposing, but old and grand in a fashion
that couldn't be replicated, though many had tried.

Sometimes age only made things more
beautiful, stronger, more secure.

There was a definite undertone to his
thoughts, but he didn't pause to evaluate them; he strode toward
the grand entrance and took the stairs two at a time till he
reached the entrance.

The house party would be in full swing by
now, since he was a day late, so hopefully he'd catch them unaware
and be able to see Bethanny immediately.

He should have known that wouldn't have been
the case.

Rather, as soon as he entered the foyer, he
removed his hat and was greeted by none other than his sister.

"You're late." She arched an eyebrow and
regarded him coolly.

"It's a pleasure to see you as well. Nice to
know I was missed," Graham replied quickly, a tense grin lifting
his lips only slightly.

"Nonsense. Of course you were missed." She
waved dismissively. "However, that has nothing to do with the fact
that the party started yesterday, dear."

"I thought it was fashionable to arrive late,
to make a flamboyant entrance." He bowed mockingly, a bit of the
tension releasing from his shoulders as he settled into comfortable
banter with his sister.

He rose just in time to see the end of his
sister's eye-roll.

"Is this any way to greet a guest?"

"You're not my guest," she retorted.

"Forgive me. I thought you had rather
forcibly instigated yourself in this family."

"I was invited."

"As was I."

"Yes, but I'm not here to start a ruckus,"
she shot back, daring him to refute her statement.

"And why do you believe that I'm here on such
an errand?" He narrowed his eyes. Was his cause already doomed
before it had a chance?

"Because I'm—" His sister paused. "This is no
place to carry on this type of conversation. Besides, you must be
exhausted from the journey."

"Ah, you do have a heart. I had rather
thought that hospitality was only a Scottish custom."

"Bah." Lady Southridge swatted at him
playfully and directed him up the stairs, then continued on the
first landing.

Graham glanced up at the second flight of
stairs and furrowed his brow. Normally the guests were given rooms
on the third floor. Odd.

"Er, sister dear, where are you taking me?"
he asked as he jogged slightly to catch up with her.

"As I said earlier, you are late. I assured
His Grace that though you are one of the higher-ranking gentlemen
in attendance, you forfeited your right to one of the grander rooms
through your tardiness. So naturally, Neville received your
customary room, he, being the guest of honor, and you will need to
establish your lodgings here." She paused before a plain door.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Graham
grumbled.

"No, rather, this is the best idea you've had
in some time. I must confess, I was concerned that you wouldn't
show up at all… but you know…" she leaned in slightly till her
flowery fragrance floated around him, reminding him of his
childhood, "some things are worth fighting for." She offered him a
kind smile then opened the door.

Graham cleared his throat, and glanced
inside. The room was small but clean, with a small bed to the side
and a window that overlooked the front of the estate. It could have
been worse.