Read His Wicked Embrace Online
Authors: Adrienne Basso
His Wicked Embrace (7 page)
The carriage stopped at a comfortable inn just as darkness approached, but there was no further opportunity for Isabella to speak privately with Jenkins. She was given a small but clean room for the night and slept fitfully.
By the following morning Isabella was still having serious doubts about proceeding to the earl's home. While sharing a quiet breakfast with Jenkins, Isabella debated how best to voice her doubts. She opened her mouth to express her fears just as Jenkins noisily pushed back his chair.
“I'd best be seeing about the carriage, Miss Browning,” Jenkins stated, rising to his feet. “If the roads aren't too muddy from all the rain, we should reach The Grange by midday.”
Isabella quickly shut her mouth and her stomach jumped in nervous anticipation. Swallowing hard, she watched the servant leave without saying a word. Chiding herself for her cowardly behavior, she deliberately focused her thoughts away from her forthcoming confrontation with the earl. He probably wouldn't even offer her the position, she reasoned. And even if he did, she did not have to accept it. If she felt uncomfortable in his presence, she could merely proceed to her grandfather's estate in York and stay there until she found a suitable position. Feeling a bit less, trapped, Isabella waited for Jenkins to return.
A shadow fell over the table, and Isabella glanced up quickly, expecting to see Jenkins. Instead, a tall, thin, fashionable dressed middle-aged matron was peering down at her with a quizzical expression on her pointed face.
“Pray, forgive my forwardness, but I saw you breakfasting with the earl's valet . . .” The woman's reedy voice trailed off, and she bent her lanky frame forward to obtain a closer look at Isabella's lovely face. She brought a gold-rimmed quizzing glass up to her eye and rudely scrutinized Isabella through the glass. “Extraordinary,” the woman whispered in awe.
“Lady Edson.” Jenkins's surprised cry suddenly filled the air. He approached the two women quickly, effectively interrupting before Lady Edson could say anything else to Isabella.
“Mr. Jenkins.” Isabella gazed at the valet with undisguised relief. “Are we ready to leave?”
Lady Edson ignored Isabella's question completely and in a nasal voice commanded the valet, “Introduce us, Mr. Jenkins.”
The matron listened with undisguised curiosity as the valet reluctantly complied.
“Lady Edson, may I present Miss Isabella Browning,” Jenkins said in a formal voice. “Lord and Lady Edson are neighbors of the earl's in Warwickshire.”
Isabella knew she should rise to her feet and make a proper curtsy to Lady Edson but the woman's pretentious behavior irked her. Isabella instead acknowledged the introduction with a slight nod of her head and fixed an unfriendly stare on Lady Edson, hoping the older woman would see her displeasure and take the not-so-subtle hint to leave.
“Are you related to the late Countess of Saunders?” Lady Edson questioned Isabella, seating herself in the only available chair at the table, without waiting to be invited. “Your resemblance to Emmeline is quite marked.”
“No, Lady Edson, I am not a relative of the late countess,” Isabella said tartly. The last thing she wanted was to encourage a conversation with the overly curious Lady Edson. And Isabella was becoming heartily sick of continually being informed of her resemblance to the earl's deceased wife.
“Miss Browning is the children's new governess,” Jenkins supplied, obviously attempting to put an end to Lady Edson's growing interest in Isabella.
“A governess!” Lady Edson looked shocked. “You cannot mean to say you are actually going to live at The Grange, Miss Browning?”
“I believe it is customary for a governess to reside with her charges, Lady Edson,” Isabella said, puzzled at the woman's odd reaction.
“Oh, my dear, I feel compelled to warn you that you are making a dreadful mistake,” Lady Edson insisted dramatically. “No respectable woman would willingly become a member of the earl's household. Her reputation would be compromised beyond repair.”
“Why is that, Lady Edson?” Isabella glanced over at Jenkins and saw the annoyed expression in the servant's eyes.
“ 'Tis common knowledge that the earl cannot be trusted to act with honor when it comes to his dealings with women,” Lady Edson announced with pompous authority.
Isabella eyed Lady Edson thoughtfully, trying to determine if she was sincere. Jenkins had warned Isabella that the earl's self-imposed isolation had made him a target of wild rumors concerning his treatment of women, but Jenkins had not elaborated on any of the details.
“I assume you are speaking from personal experience, Lady Edson, when making such a serious charge?”
“Not precisely,” Lady Edson admitted in a reluctant tone. “I have not actually spoken to the earl since his wife's accident. But I have heard, from a most reliable source, that the earl has seduced several innocent young maids in his household.” Lady Edson leaned towards Isabella and whispered conspiratorially, “ 'Tis said that three of these poor unfortunate girls are now carrying a child.”
Isabella sputtered loudly, nearly choking on the lukewarm chocolate she was drinking. Her face flamed with embarrassment over the outrageous statements made by Lady Edson. Even given her own biased opinion of the earl, Isabella could not credit such a tale.
She glanced up at Jenkins. The gleam of fury in the valet's eyes confirmed that Lady Edson's accusations were as ridiculous as they sounded. Isabella furrowed her brow in annoyance. All her life she had encountered women like Lady Edson, who relished unsavory and damaging gossip about others and had no compunction in repeating those unverified barbs. Isabella felt ashamed to have listened to such drivel.
Pushing aside her own doubts about the earl's character, Isabella felt compelled to put Lady Edson in her place. She gritted her teeth and considered a variety of scathing retorts, the majority of which would have stunned and perhaps embarrassed Jenkins.
“I do thank you, Lady Edson, for warning me of the unfair, unfounded, and clearly untrue rumors circulating about the earl. Since I, like yourself, am a woman of good breeding and impeccable manners, I shall not demean myself by responding to such blatant falsehoods.”
“I don't believe you understand, Miss Browning.”
“Oh, but I do, Lady Edson,” Isabella insisted, rising to her feet. She inclined her head regally, with mocking politeness. “I understand that rumors and innuendo of this nature can actually be believed by individuals who do not possess the brains the good Lord gave them to see these rumors for the vicious lies they are. Fortunately, I possess enough common sense not to believe such rubbish. I would like to assume you do as well.”
Lady Edson bit her lip, clearly annoyed at being so neatly outmaneuvered. There was no way to respond without looking like a fool. She cast a chilling stare at Isabella and tilted her long nose skyward. Murmuring a hasty farewell, she rose quickly, turning her back on Isabella and Jenkins. Muttering under her breath, Lady Edson strode from the table.
Isabella seized the opportunity to make her own hasty departure.
“What a perfectly odious woman,” Isabella muttered to Jenkins as she accepted his escort out of the inn. The valet cast a thoughtful eye at Isabella and grinned broadly.
The journey resumed. Isabella settled herself comfortably in the coach and watched the passing countryside with distracted interest. Every time she thought about her conversation with Lady Edson, she became incensed all over again, angry at the statements made against the earl. It seemed an ironic turn of fate that she would be his champion, considering all that had passed between them. But listening to Lady Edson malign the earl's character had caused something to snap in Isabella. She knew all too well the pain of being misunderstood and unfairly judged by others.
And yet, as the carriage carried her closer to the earl, a nagging voice inside Isabella insistently reminded her that most rumors, twisted and turned as they were, usually held a grain of truth.
Chapter Six
The warm sunshine improved the condition of the muddy roads, and the coach was able to travel through the western countryside at a clipping pace. To distract herself, Isabella concentrated on the scenic views outside her carriage window of rich pasturelands, grazing livestock, and lush green fields dotted by clumps of woodlands and divided by broad thorn hedges. Set back from the road on the hills, fine manor houses, in a vast array of architectural styles, peeped through the trees.
Before reaching the earl's estate, the carriage rode through the village of Halford. Cottages with dormer windows fronted by neatly tended walled gardens overlooked the narrow main street. Isabella was fascinated by the unusual village. It was a remote, windswept hilltop community, with red brick and gray stone houses that were clustered around a variety of spacious greens. As they rolled down the main street, Isabella's attention was snared by a simple Tudor cottage. It was a timber-framed building with leaded windows, a tiled roof, and walls that bowed visibly with age.
“We are approaching Whatley Grange, Miss Browning. We should arrive home within the hour.”
Isabella's stomach clenched at Jenkins's innocent announcement. Now that the moment of encountering the earl was rapidly approaching, Isabella's doubts were returning. She imagined a variety of greetings from the earl, none of which were overly pleasant.
All too soon the carriage turned down the long gravel drive to the manor house. Even in her nervous state of anticipation, Isabella could appreciate the grandeur of Whatley Grangeâan oddly modest name for such an impressive building. The vast mansion retained much of its Norman ancestry with its turrets and towers, but over the years symmetrical windows, decorative chimneys, and Renaissance ornamentation had been added to soften the fortresslike exterior. It seemed a fitting home for the earlâtall, proud, bold, and impressive. Even the gray stones of the exterior walls matched the earl's captivating eyes.
Beyond the lawns, Isabella could see the shimmering lake and extensive parklands, as well as the newly planted grain fields and numerous herds of grazing cattle and sheep. Clearly The Grange was as productive as it was magnificent.
When the coach finally came to a halt, Isabella was struggling to master her nerves. She chewed her lip in agitation, straightened her bonnet several times, and repeatedly smoothed the folds of her cloak. Suddenly, the carriage door opened. Isabella straightened her bonnet one last time, took a deep breath, and held out her hand.
Jenkins assisted Isabella out of the coach, and she was grateful for his support. Her legs felt stiff from the long hours of confinement in the carriage, and as she paused a moment to stretch her tired limbs, she heard a deep voice call out.
“So you have finally arrived, Jenkins. We were expecting you last night. I was wondering where you had gotten to.”
Isabella did not have to turn around to identify the speaker. She recognized the earl's voice instantly. With her back still to him, she listened alertly to the steady crunch of his booted feet on the gravel as he approached, silently willing herself to remain calm. When she gauged that the earl stood no more than a few feet from her, Isabella whirled around, hoping to gain the advantage by shocking him with her sudden appearance.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” Isabella exclaimed in a breathless voice.
“Miss Browning.” The earl's voice was so calm and emotionless that for a moment she thought he must have been informed of her imminent arrival, but she did not think that was possible.
“Did you have a pleasant journey, Jenkins?” the earl inquired conversationally.
Isabella kept a rein on her emotions with an effort. She was relieved the earl had addressed his question to Jenkins, instead of to her, since Isabella doubted she could have equaled the earl's casual tone. She was determined, however, to follow the earl's lead and tried to act as nonchalantly as he did at finding her, uninvited and unannounced, at his doorstep.
“The roads were quite passable, my lord,” Jenkins responded to the earl's inquiry. “Today's sunshine is succeeding in drying up some of the larger puddles.”
While the earl and his valet exchanged pleasantries, Isabella openly studied him. The earl's was a sizable, nearly overwhelming presence. Tall, broad of shoulder, and uncommonly handsome, he was a man who easily inflamed a woman's senses.
Isabella abstractly noted that the pale, tight breeches covering the earl's powerful thighs were stained with dirt and grass, and his well-worn riding boots were caked with mud. His dark blue jacket was open, and the white linen shirt he wore underneath was unbuttoned at the throat. She could see a sprinkling of dark, curly hair and a glimpse of tanned, muscular chest. It made her feel flushed. Damien St. Lawrence was a truly dashing figure, even in his soiled and half-buttoned clothes.
It would not have been possible to mistake him for a common laborer, even though he was sweating and filthy. The earl's bearing was commanding, almost regal, and even a bit threatening.
Isabella suddenly felt his gaze upon her, and she lifted her head. She met his frosty silver eyes calmly, with a facade of confidence gained through years of practice.
“Is there somewhere private we may speak, my lord?” Isabella suggested, deciding to take the initiative, since the earl appeared to be content standing in the drive conversing with Jenkins until darkness fell.
“Of course, Miss Browning.”
Mutely, Isabella followed the earl through the heavy oak doors of Whatley Grange. The foyer they entered was enormous in size, with massive pillars and round arches of dark carved oak soaring thirty feet into the air. Isabella's eyes were immediately drawn upward to the lavish mural that decorated the tops of the high walls and the ceiling. Mythical demons and animals, along with birds, lambs, and lions, were among the figures included in the elaborate design.
The enchanting paintings were unlike anything Isabella had ever seen, but the earl did not allow her time to admire her surroundings. Still wearing her traveling cloak and bonnet, she followed him across the massive hallway. He stopped at the end of a long corridor and opened the wooden door. Peering down expectantly at Isabella, he waited for her to proceed him into the room.
She scurried inside, deciding at once that this must be the earl's private study. The room had a masculine feel to it, from the sturdy, heavy wooden furniture to the plush, dark-hued carpets and mahogany-paneled walls. A richly carved desk stacked high with piles of papers, correspondence, and ledgers stood in front of a wide bay window. Isabella was relieved with the earl's choice of room. At least he understood that the reason for her unexpected appearance at his home was business and not social.
The earl politely indicated a seat, but Isabella shook her head. “I've been sitting in the carriage all day, my lord. If you have no objections, I prefer to stand.”
“As you wish, Miss Browning,” Damien responded, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms over his chest. He gave no outward sign of his emotions.
Instead, he looked carefully at Isabella. Her sculptured face showed signs of fatigue, but her brilliant violet eyes were sparkling. Damien's body tightened instinctively in masculine appreciation of her beauty. Surprised and annoyed at the sudden appearance of his baser inclinations, the earl resolutely pushed those feelings aside. “Now that we are alone, perhaps you will be kind enough to explain why you are here?”
Taking a deep breath, Isabella plunged in. “I have come to Whatley Grange in search of a position, my lord. It is my understanding that you have two young children. I would like to offer my services as governess.”
The slight twitching in his jaw revealed his surprise.
“How do you know of my children?”
“Jenkins mentioned them to me,” Isabella responded carefully. “You have two children, a girl and a boy. Six and three years old, I believe. Jenkins also said they did not have a governess. I was hoping you might consider me for the post.”
“I am not looking for a governess, Miss Browning,” the earl declared flatly.
His answer was precisely what she had anticipated, had even come to hope for, and yet for some perverse reason it rankled her. Isabella knew she should calmly accept the earl's rejection and be on her way, but she could not.
Apprehension flared momentarily in Isabella's violet eyes before she spoke, but she skillfully hid her feelings of self-doubt. Quietly she listed her qualifications. “I have received an excellent education, my lord. I am fluent in both French and Italian. I have studied Greek, Latin, history, and geography in addition to the more traditional female pursuits of piano, voice, painting, drawing, and several forms of needlework. I also have a sound knowledge of basic arithmetic, English, and French literature and poetry.”
The earl scowled slightly, but Isabella valiantly continued. “Coupled with my extensive education is several years of practical experience. I have served as a governess in households with as few as three and as many as six children under my care.”
“I am sure your qualifications are impeccable, Miss Browning,” the earl replied, grudgingly impressed by Isabella's accomplishments. “Nevertheless, the fact remains, I am not searching for a governess.”
“But you cannot deny that you need one. Surely you understand the importance of education. It is never to early for children to begin learning.”
He knew she had a valid point. Most noble families engaged a governess to supervise the early education of their children, some when the child was just learning to talk. But the earl's was hardly a typical household. Damien tried a different approach.
“I strongly doubt you would be comfortable living here, Miss Browning. The Grange is an exceedingly unorthodox household.”
“So I have been given to understand.”
The earl straightened up from his causal pose. “By whom?”
Isabella felt a chill run up her spine, but she did not break their eye contact. “I met Lady Edson at the posting inn near Buckingham this morning. She was most anxious to relate some rather bizarre tales about you and your staff. Naturally, I do not believe such malicious gossip.”
“Perhaps you should, Miss Browning.” The earl spoke in an unemotional voice.
Isabella's color heightened as she remembered Lady Edson's preposterous accusations claiming that the earl impregnated three female members of his staff. Even though she felt certain these rumors were lies, she would have liked to hear the earl deny them, but Isabella knew she lacked the courage to directly confront him on such an indelicate personal subject.
“Idle gossip does not interest me, my lord,” Isabella declared truthfully. “I am more concerned about securing a position.”
“After what happened between us yesterday morning, I am very surprised you would wish to work for me,” the earl said in a soft voice.
Isabella lowered her eyes, not wanting him to see how near the mark his words hit. “I bear you no ill feelings, my lord. Since our unfortunate incident, other individuals have commented on my resemblance to Emmeline. In retrospect, I have come to the conclusion that you made an honest mistake.”
The earl's mouth formed a tight line. “If you worked for me, Miss Browning, your reputation would in all likelihood be severely compromised, perhaps even ruined irreparably.”
Isabella shrugged philosophically. “A sterling reputation does not provide an adequate living, my lord. I need this job. Badly.”
Damien felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he was responsible for her current unemployed status, but he ignored it. “Have you nowhere else to go, Miss Browning?”
“My stepbrothers are scattered throughout the country. It has been years since we've corresponded. I'm not precisely certain of their current direction.” Isabella strove for lightness. “I suppose my grandfather could be forced to tolerate my presence for a while. However, the earl's generosity is rather limited in my case. I prefer not to rely on it.”
“The earl? Your grandfather is an earl? Yet you insist you must earn your living as a governess.”
Isabella almost groaned out loud at her unintentional slip. She did not want him finding out about her parentage. It was too deep a wound, too personal a hurt.
“My maternal grandfather is the Earl of Barton. He and my mother were estranged before I was born. I did not even know of his existence until I was sent to live at his estate in York when I was seventeen. After staying there for three years, I took my first position as a governess. It was my only means of escape.”
Damien stroked his chin thoughtfully at her revelations. She was obviously alienated from her stepbrothers, and he heard the subtle contempt in Isabella's voice when she spoke of her grandfather. He got the distinct impression that if he asked her additional questions concerning her family and her past, she would truthfully answer him, but he did not press the point. It was none of his business, even if she did become governess to his children.
Damien stopped short when he realized where his thoughts were taking him. Could he actually be seriously considering offering her a job? The benefits to his children aside, did he really want this enchanting, disturbing creature living under his roof?
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