Chapter Four
June 19, 1817
“Excuse me, Miss Copeland, but you have a visitor.”
Sarah’s head came up from the book she’d been reading. She stared at the butler as if she’d never seen him before. “I beg your pardon. A visitor for me?” She nudged her eyeglasses farther up the bridge of her nose.
“That’s what the gentleman said.” The butler came forward with a calling card on a silver salver. “I’ve shown him into the front parlor.”
“Thank you.” With a shaking hand, she plucked the card from the tray, glanced at it and gasped. Lord Hadleigh. Oh, dear lord, the earl had come to pay her a visit. Heat slapped at her cheeks. “I’ll be there presently.”
“Very good, miss.” The butler departed on silent feet.
What could he want with her now? Immediately, her last interaction with the earl jumped into her mind. The strong, solid feel of his arms around her as they rode through the countryside, the way pleasant tingles of something had assailed her when his arm had brushed her breast during the ride, or the wicked awareness that had stolen up her leg when he’d examined her ankle came rushing back to her. She swore she could still feel every delicious moment that he’d touched her, could hear the breathlessness in her voice as she’d answered his questions.
I acted like a ninny, pure and simple.
Had he been able to tell she’d never been that close to a man before she wasn’t related to? Oh, it was maddening to think that she’d left such a silly impression upon him. Once more her musings ran away, and she saw him in her mind’s eye.
When he’d nearly plowed her over with his horse, she’d felt nothing except annoyance and contempt for him. Clearly, he’d never given thought to anyone other than himself. Once he’d revealed that he was the Earl of Hadleigh—her neighbor to boot—her stomach had nearly rejected the breakfast she’d eaten that morning. And she’d argued with him for goodness’ sake! Right there on the public road as if she’d had no class. What would her great uncle say if he discovered that little scandal? Surely, she’d be turned out onto the street without a reference.
Drat, drat, drat. I dressed down an earl.
Perhaps that’s why he was here today, to call her out on her behavior and demand an apology. The heat intensified in her cheeks. She would offer it, of course, but there had been a flash of need and longing in the depths of his stormy blue gray eyes she’d seen briefly when he thought she must not have been paying attention. Who was he beneath the title, and why did he represent such a mystery that compelled her to solve it?
The book Sarah had been reading slipped off her lap to land on the floor with a soft thud. She ignored it and stared at the calling card in her hand. The stock had a hefty weight, so he’d spent good coin on it. The printing was elegant and slightly raised. When she brought it to her nose and took a sniff, faint traces of bay rum and lime drifted into her nostrils. Invigorating and as intriguing as the man himself. It spoke of exotic places and a freedom she could only wonder about. Why had she not noticed it the day she rode in front of him on that large horse? Probably because her nerves, her senses, her brain had been flooded by the situation.
With him.
Oh, bother.
As the muscles of her stomach knotted, she passed a hand over the front of her muslin day dress—a serviceable charcoal gray to hide stains and wear. It wasn’t her best dress, but not her worst, either. A sigh escaped her. It would have to do, for she wasn’t vain enough to change for him. Earl or not, he’d been rude and arrogant, and he didn’t deserve anything more than bare civility. She’d give him that and then send him on his way.
Yet he’d also been a touch concerned for her ankle…
Only because he didn’t wish to have me make a scene or demand some sort of recompense.And her injury had been his fault to begin with! She gave her head a shake to clear her thoughts. I must stop dithering. He’s here to see Uncle. Nothing more. Then another thought occurred. Did he mean to inform her uncle of their meeting and blame the entire circumstances on her? We’ll see about that.
After retrieving her book, she tucked the calling card into its pages and then hid the novel beneath a cushion on the sofa. Since it was in her own sitting room, no one should disturb it, but there was a chance one of the children would snoop. Then she stood and shook out her skirts, smoothed a hand along her stomach and left the room. By the time she reached the parlor on the first floor, her belly hurt from worry and a smidgeon of dread.
“Oh, drat,” she whispered to herself the second she saw him. He was as stimulating as he’d been the last time.
The earl rose when she entered, his stormy blue gray eyes focused entirely on her with an intensity that stole her breath. “Good afternoon, Miss Copeland.” His baritone put her in mind of shadowy corners in ballrooms and wicked assignations in a garden maze. “I trust you’ve been keeping well since we last met.”
“Good afternoon, Lord Hadleigh.” Gooseflesh popped on her skin. Perhaps she’d read too many thrilling novels and that was the reason for her silly reaction. He was an earl and her nearest neighbor. This was an ordinary social call, but Sarah didn’t hesitate to set him straight. The sooner he was gone, the sooner she could think about something that had nothing to do with him. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, my lord, but my uncle and aunt have taken their children to a summer fair in the neighboring county. Perhaps you should return at a later time.”
“How fortuitous, for I am here to see you, not them.”
“You’re here to see me,” she repeated in a monotone as if she were the world’s dullest parrot. “Why? I’m nobody.” As her spectacles slipped down, she shoved them back up with a slight push of her finger.
The earl cocked one midnight eyebrow. “Only if you believe that.” His expression didn’t indicate whether he did or did not think such of her.
Annoyance twisted through her chest. “So says the man who didn’t hesitate to tell me he was an earl.” What was it about him that made her want to argue? “I’m quite certain you never think you’re a nobody.” He couldn’t relate to her even if he tried.
“You’d be surprised,” he said in a soft voice, almost to himself. Then he straightened his spine and shrugged. His blue superfine jacket drew her notice to the breadth of his shoulders, and the gray satin waistcoat embroidered with fruit done in blue thread had her gaze wandering to his flat belly. “The earl is who I am.”
The normal pitch of his voice snapped her attention back to his face. “I’m naught but a governess or poor relation. What do you want with me?” No sense dancing around the issue. Already, her wariness of him battled with the skitters of awareness sailing over her skin.
Why was that? She’d not experienced such a thing before with a man. Of course, she’d never had cause to find herself in the company of one alone either, yet this one was different. It was almost as if he needed help but had no idea how to ask for it. That vulnerability lurked in the backs of his eyes, waiting. Why, though? He should want for nothing in life.