The Earl's Passionate Plot Page 13

  He was ready for a fight, but the obvious confusion on the curate's face told him there might not be need for that, after all.

  "No, I came for... er, is everything quite well, Miss Langley?"

  Mr. Skrewd seemed concerned for her, but his eyes were on everything in the hut but her. He seemed to be searching for something. Dovington glanced around but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, other than two grown people and a threesome of extremely happy puppies scattered about the floor.

  Pushing past the open door came the mother of the pups. Dovington recognized Bess and she apparently recognized him. She sniffed first the puppies to assure herself of their well-being, then she went to licking the earl straight on his face.

  "Were you looking for your dog, perhaps, Skrewd?" he asked.

  Miss Langley giggled, and helped pull the shaggy beast off of him.

  "No, I... er..."

  "He was looking for me."

  Dovington could hardly believe his eyes. From behind a curtain that apparently covered the doorway into what was, most likely, a tiny bedroom, Miss Vandenhoff appeared. She smiled sheepishly and blinked huge, frightened eyes.

  "But please don't be angry with him, sir!" she insisted. "It was my idea for us to meet here, not his."

  "To meet here?" Dovington asked because, for the life of him, he just couldn't make sense of any of this.

  Miss Langley appeared just as confused, her face screwed into a puzzled frown as she tried to put her hair and her clothing to rights.

  "Why should you be meeting Mr. Skrewd?" she asked. "I thought you were at the ball?"

  "I was, but..."

  Miss Vandenhoff didn't continue. Her eyes filled up with tears and Dovington knew he'd lost any hope of ever figuring this out. Clearly he'd left rational thought behind when he'd decided to come storming after Miss Langley, so it only stood to reason that he was completely at a loss now. On the floor. In a hut. Covered in puppies.

  "Please don't cry, Mable," Mr. Skrewd said to her. "This isn't your fault."

  He trod on both of Dovington's legs as he scrambled over them in an effort to get to Miss. Vandenhoff. Miss Langley's skirts may have suffered some treading, too. Eventually, though the curate reached the weeping heiress and things became only slightly more bizarre as she threw herself into his arms. The curate pressed her against his chest and kissed the top of her head.

  "Papa wants me to marry the earl," she cried into Mr. Skrewd's shoulder. "But I just can't do it! I don't love him. I love you!"

  Dovington glanced at Miss Langley and asked quietly, "Did you know about this?"

  "Absolutely not," she assured him in a whisper as the lovers hugged and cooed and reassured each other nearby. "Did you know she thought she was supposed to marry you?"

  "Er, perhaps I never actually mentioned to her father that Ned would be my standin."

  She narrowed her eyes at him. "I see. So all this time you've had me trying to manage things for you but nothing was even close to settled already."

  "And a fine job of it you've done," he replied, not very much appreciating the tone of accusation in her voice. "Just think how downcast Ned will be when I tell him that—"

  But it appeared as if he wouldn't have to tell him anything. Ned was going to see for himself. The young man burst through the door, his boots stamping on the rough floor and his voice booming.

  "Skrewd! Where are you? You've got to help me out! I'm desperate, man. My cousin wants—"

  He stopped short when his eyes focused in the dim light and his mouth hung open as she took in the scene. He gaped first at the couple in the doorway, then at Miss Langley sitting on the floor in a stunning silk ball gown, then finally at Dovington. It seemed prudent to allow the lad as much time as he needed to contemplate things, so the earl simply stared at him and waited.

  "There's a puppy gnawing on your boot," Ned finally stated.

  Dovington glanced at his foot. "Yes. So there is."

  "Er, why?"

  "Because that's what puppies do, man," Dovington replied. "Now why the devil are you here and not at the ball?"

  "I needed to see the curate."

  "So I gathered. Why?"

  "Because... I'm having a crisis of faith."

  The curate didn't exactly let go of Miss Vandenhoff, but clearly Ned's statement intrigued him.

  "Come in, Mr. Chadburne. I'll help you in any way that I can," Mr. Skrewd said, though Dovington had no idea how there could be any help for any of this.

  "It's just that I—" Ned began, then stopped when his eyes went back to the woman wrapped in the curate's arms. "Oh, hello, Miss Vandenhoff."

  "Hello, Mr. Chadburne."

  The room fell into silence again, so Dovington figured he'd better help the lad out.

  "It appears Miss Vandenhoff has professed deep, abiding love for the curate here, Ned. From the looks of things, he appears in no hurry to rebuff her."

  "I'll not rebuff her! I love her," Mr. Skrewd proclaimed.

  Now Miss Vandenhoff turned her dewy eyes on Dovington and clenched even more tightly to the curate's narrow shoulders.

  "I'm sorry, Lord Dovington," she sniffled. "I tried and tried to be so horrible that you wouldn't want me, but everyone was so nice to me no matter how awful I was. But then I met Ben and I... well, I won't marry anyone but him, no matter what my father says. We'll run away if we have to. That's why I asked him to meet me here now, so we could make plans in case..."

  "In case your father made some kind of announcement tonight," Dovington finished for her and rolled his eyes.

  It was almost as if he should have expected this. Things seemed to have been going far too easily. He should have known the damn curate would muck this up by...

  Wait a moment. If Ben Skrewd was stupidly in love with Miss Vandenhoff, then that meant that he and Miss Langley hadn't been... had they? Was she reeling with heartbreak right now? She didn't appear so. Mostly she was reeling with puppies.

  He tried to study her face, to read her expression for any sign that she couldn't care less who Mr. Skrewd might end up married to, but Ned persisted with his interruptions.

  "That's exactly why I came here!" he said, almost sounding ready to burst. "I thought I was doing the right thing, Dovey, and I had every intention of doing as you asked, but then you went away and Miss Langley insisted that we all enjoy ourselves and take so many outings and... well..."

  "Don't tell me," Dovington stated. "You fell in love."

  Ned seemed surprised that he should guess. He nodded. Dovington only hoped that his doleful expression as he gawked down at them did not have anything to do with Miss Langley. When it came to this particular lady, no standin was needed.

  Or welcome.

  "With whom, Ned?" he asked, steeling himself. "Am I going to approve of the match or should I advise you to turn tail and run?"

  Ned put his shoulders back and stood very tall. "I'm in love with Miss Renford. And I'd very much like your blessing, Dovey."

  Miss Renford. Thank God. Dovington could scarcely recall who that was just now, but it wasn't Miss Langley and that was all that truly mattered. Ned could have any other female on the planet as far as he was concerned. Clearly his plans to save his estate by attaching an heiress were never going to work out, so why not wish the boy happy?

  Miss Langley, however, voiced her concern.

  "Ella?" she fairly cried. "You wish to marry Ella? But she's too young! And she's not... and you're... surely his lordship is against it."

  "No, Miss Renford is a fine young lady and I've nothing against her at all," Dovington said. "But this is hardly the place to discuss such things and my boots are being positively ruined. Why don't we all compose ourselves, then go back into the ball. Surely our absences have been noticed. I'm sure Miss Vandenhoff's father will be much more inclined to favor Mr. Skrewd if he has not been thought to have absconded with her. And Ned... you might want to wipe your feet before going back inside."

  Ned glanced at his boots
and swore under his breath. Ah, puppies. Dovington asked himself just why he hadn't filled the halls with them at his estate. Were they truly so costly? Too much of a bother? Hell, they were adorable. And the carpets at the Downs were threadbare and motheaten, anyway. By God, his first task when he returned to Surrey would be to find himself a puppy. One just about like these little charmers ought to do.

  Chapter 18

  Their guests were abuzz and Mariah did her very best to smile for everyone and pretend to be happy. She stood off to the side and sipped her lemonade, trying to seem very much pleased with the events of the night. The earl had helped smooth things for Mr. Skrewd so he'd gotten the nerve to approach Mr. Vandenhoff and been accepted. He and the heiress were going to be wed.

  Ella was dancing with Mr. Chadburne and Mamma had agreed that Mr. Chadburne might officially court her, with the stipulation that there would be no talk of engagement until after Ella's official come-out next year. That seemed to suit everyone, especially the earl.

  Mariah tried not to let her skeptical nature fret over the man's intentions at this point. Had he truly given his blessing to his cousin and Ella? It seemed unlikely, considering the previous goal. Was he simply biding his time, hoping that over the course of the coming months the young, starry-eyed Ella would grow weary of Mr. Chadburne and that another eligible heiress might come along for him? Possibly.

  What was Mariah to think of it all? With Miss Vandenhoff engaged to be married to their local curate, surely the Vandenhoff family was intending to stay here in this house. The rest of them surely could not stay. But where would they go?

  It was hard to enjoy the entertainments of the evening while her mind was swirling with such thoughts.

  "Dance with me, Miss Langley," the earl said, causing her to jump as he appeared at her side and whispered in her ear.

  "No... I think not sir."

  "And why is that? You've gone to so much trouble to make this event one your neighbors will speak of for months yet to come. You should enjoy yourself."

  "Yes, and that's why I would prefer not to dance, thank you."

  "Oh. I see. It's like that."

  "Like what?"

  "You might prefer to dance, but not with me, is that correct?"

  "I didn't say that."

  "You didn't need to. You've been exhausting yourself trying to appear happy ever since we returned from the hut. Clearly my presence is troublesome for you."

  She was not about to let him know just how troublesome it was. She had to keep her composure, find some way to appear unaffected by him.

  "I'm simply preoccupied, sir. It is a very big task to oversee a ball, even a small one such as this."

  "I wouldn't know, but you seem to have everything well in hand. I daresay your sister has never been happier. Come, dance with me now."

  "No!"

  Perhaps her refusal had been a bit more forceful than intended. The Bensons were standing nearby and turned to watch them. She wasn't able to produce an actual honest smile, but she did give her best artificial one. The earl was clearly not deceived.

  "If you won't dance, then we're going for a walk," he said. "Come."

  As usual, he was ordering her around, commanding as if she should simply do as he said and take the arm that he offered. She couldn't, though. Heavens no! She knew only too well how little she could trust her own common sense when in close contact with the man. She didn't dare take his arm or let him lead her anywhere.

  "I should stay here," she said quickly. "My mother may have need of me."

  "Your mother is find. Ned is busy doting on her and your sister, so I think it's fair to say they will not miss you for a short while."

  "But I need to... that is, we shouldn't go—"

  He interrupted her by apparently going into a spasm and pouring the contents of her lemonade glass all over her gown. She gasped in surprise.

  "Goodness, what have you done?"

  "Oh, so sorry, Miss Langley," he said loudly, taking her now-empty glass and putting it on the nearest table. "What a looby I am. Here, let me help you."

  He took out his handkerchief and would have gone to dabbing at her front if she had not slapped his hand away. She could not have this man pawing at her here, in front of everyone! What was he thinking?

  "Come, I'll help you find someone to attend this," he said, taking her by the elbow and ushering her toward the doorway.

  She was too shocked by his actions to take note of their direction at first, but when at last she came to her senses she realized he was leading her out of the ball room and into the corridor, not toward the front part of the house that was all lit up to entertain guests, but toward the rear. Where it was dark. Where he had kissed her just a couple hours earlier.

  And she realized she was allowing it. She was walking beside him, pretending to worry over the damage to her gown that had already seen the floor of a hut, the antics of puppies, and the bottoms of Mr. Skrewd's boots. This recent splash of lemonade could hardly be cause for concern.

  Lord Dovington's actions, however, certainly were. As soon as he got her away from the noise of the dance and any prying eyes that might be around, he stopped. She whirled round to face him, but he had her in his arms long before she had any chance to scold him.

  If indeed that's what she'd been prepared to do. At the moment, it was hard to think of anything but letting him hold her and search for her lips with his own. The dim light was no hindrance there. He kissed her long and hard.

  Finally he gave her a moment to catch her breath.

  "You let me do that, Miss Langley," he said quietly. "Yet you refuse to dance?"

  "I... I didn't want people to look at me and to think that... well, they might think I was trying to attach myself to you."

  "And that would be so very horrible because...?"

  "Because I would never do that, sir."

  She hoped he would ignore the fact that she was clinging to him now with such force that a charging buffalo could likely not unattach her. It was too dark for her to clearly read any nuances of emotion in his shadowed expression, but the feel of his arms still tight around her seemed to be a good sign. All she could do was stare up into those midnight eyes and pray she could answer the questions they were asking.

  "Is that why you're upset? The thought of attachment, of a connection to me is so very unpleasant for you? My cousin wishes to wed your sister and you can't bear the fact that we share the same bloodline?"

  Indeed, she'd not been thinking of his cousin at all, to be very honest. The mention of him in this moment confused her.

  "What?"

  He put her away from him, holding her at arm's length and studying her carefully.

  "I promise you, Miss Langley, he is a good man. He's much better than I have ever been, or likely ever will be. If he loves your sister, and I believe he's convinced that he does, he'll never betray her or give her reason for pain. He will have a slight fortune that will come to him upon his marriage, but I assure you he is not given to excess or waste. If she still wishes to marry him when she comes of age, I pray you don't let his connection to me turn you against him."

  "Turn me against him? Of course I would not. How could I? Mr. Chadburne is a good man, just as you say. He's been honest and kind, and he's shown far more intelligence than you have in all of this."

  "I'm glad that you... wait, more intelligence?"

  "Well, he certainly hasn't been moping around, believing some ridiculous rubbish about what a terrible person he is just because his father was a ne'er-do-well, has he?"

  "But his father was a ne'er-do-well. He died of drink in the bed of his mistress when Ned was still in leading strings."

  "And you'd have him marry my precious sister?"

  "But he isn't like that! I tell you, he never took after his father, or mine. He's more like his mother's family, and they are excellent people."

  "I see. So I take it your mother's people are not."

  Now she could see anger in his eye
s. He dropped his arms and stepped back from her, ending up in front of a window with moonlight spilling over him.

  "My mother was an angel, and her family above reproach. Her father welcomed us when life with my father got to be too difficult for her. Until he died when I was at my first year of school, my grandfather was more parent to me than my father was in all of his life."

  "And you repay that by pushing off your responsibility onto your cousin and expecting him to carry the title for you after you're gone?"

  "I had my reasons for making that choice, but—"

  "They are not very good reasons, whatever they are," she insisted. "Other than this troubling proclivity you show to keep putting your hands all over me, I've found no evidence at all that you are half as awful as you claim."

  "Perhaps you don't know me very well."

  "I know that you dumped all of my step-father's best spirits out the window rather than drink them."

  "That was a colossal error on my part."

  "And you didn't raise a finger to prevent your cousin or Miss Vandenhoff from avoiding a match neither of them were, apparently, pleased with."

  "Which will no doubt haunt my finances for the rest of my life."

  "And you were very gentle with those puppies even though they did dreadful things to your boots."

  "You cannot use puppies to argue against me, Miss Langley. I've more than enough shortcomings to make up for a few gentle words here and there. I assure you, there have been more times than I care to recall when I did not dump the spirits out the window but made short work of them, just the same. And if you recall, I was the one who set up the arrangement between Ned and Miss Vandenhoff in the first place, whether they liked it or not."

  "Clearly they did not."

  "I've been hard-nosed and unpleasant to nearly everyone I know. I've made choices so idiotic they'd make your head swim. Indeed, Miss Langley, it's true. I am my father's son; don't tell me my estimation of myself is inaccurate."

  "But it is, and if you had half a brain you could see that," she announced.

  "Is that so?" he said. "Well, even without half a brain I've been intelligent enough not to doom myself to spinsterhood simply due to some foolish notion that anyone still cares about the long-ago details of my origins."