Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord (23 page)

She winced as Nick and James shared a laugh in the hallway outside the door. She should not have agreed to his silly request. She felt like a complete imbecile.

And then he entered.

Without a cravat.

The collar of his shirt was open, leaving a wedge of warm bronzed skin, framed by white linen and the dark green topcoat he had been wearing when he had arrived the previous day. When he and James entered the dining room for dinner, Isabel’s attention was drawn immediately to that tantalizing triangle of chest, and it took her a second or two to recover from the surprise of it.

When she raised her attention to his face, she realized that he was staring intently at her, his eyes raking over the bodice of her gown, lingering on the spot where its edge gave way to the slope of her breast before traveling up to meet her gaze. She recognized the masculine admiration there, and, blushing, she redirected her attention to her brother.

Only to discover that he was wearing an equally unlikely dinner ensemble: short pants, a dirty linen shirt, and an elaborately tied—if hopelessly wrinkled—cravat.
Nick’s cravat.
He’d taught her brother to tie a cravat.

Warmth spread through her and she smiled at her brother. “What a fine knot!” The boy preened beneath her praise, and she met Nick’s eyes. “Thank you.”

He was making it very difficult not to like him.

Rock noticed his friend’s missing neckpiece and laughed, a great booming laugh. “You seem to have forgotten something, St. John.”

Nick grinned. “I hope you will forgive me my strange attire, Lady Isabel,” Nick said, teasing in his tone as he stepped forward and lifted her hand to his lips, the caress scorching through her glove. “You see, I found that I had an avid pupil in neckwear this evening.”

An image of James and Nick working together to tie the cravat flashed in Isabel’s mind, and it was a powerful fantasy—in which James had a man to guide him through these complex and uncertain masculine hoops, and in which Isabel had a partner to help her navigate the challenges of raising a young earl.

A partner.

What a lovely word.

She met Nick’s eyes for a long moment, lost in the idea of him here, able to help. Shaking her head of the thought, she said, “Not at all. I am certain we can find you another cravat now that yours has been … appropriated.”

“Given freely, my lady.”

He had a remarkable smile.
One that made her feel as though there was too little air in the room.

“Well, there is no reason for us to stand on ceremony this evening. I am happy for you to go without the neckwear if you are.” Isabel held her breath, considering this man and her brother and the charming portrait they made. Nick was instantly more accessible. More endearing. More attractive.

Too attractive.

Clearing her throat, Isabel said, “Shall we eat?”

They moved to the table, which had been elaborately set—at Gwen’s orders, Isabel would wager—and the gentlemen helped the ladies into their seats. There was an intimacy to the movement as Nick held Isabel’s chair for her, the way he leaned in, bombarding her with heat and the scent of sandalwood. She turned her head fleetingly in his direction to thank him, and his whispered, “It is entirely my pleasure,” barely loud enough for her to hear. She felt the soft touch of his breath on her bare shoulder as he added, “I knew you would be stunning in red.”

A flood of pleasure shot through her.

He was a dangerous man.

She shook herself of the thought, entirely inappropriate, and was rewarded by the arrival of dinner. Gwen had outdone herself tonight—creating a meal of simple, hearty food that had come almost entirely from Townsend lands. It was not extravagant—certainly Lord Nicholas had had more sophisticated meals—but it was well seasoned and well cooked, and a feast by the standards of Townsend Park.

As she surveyed the mutton and jelly that had arrived as part of the second course, Isabel was overcome with uncertainty. This meal was far too simple to entertain these men— men who had traveled the world developing sophisticated minds and palates. What could they possibly find enjoyable about a quiet evening meal in the wilds of Yorkshire? What could they possibly find entertaining about the company of two uncultured young women and a ten-year-old child?

The thought festered as the meal went on, and Isabel drifted into silence, shutting out the conversation around her.

As Rock and Lara quizzed James on his lessons and the events of his day, Nick leaned close to Isabel. “You are not with us.”

She straightened at the words. “I was thinking about the meal.”

“It is an excellent meal,” Nick offered, and Isabel’s uncertainty grew.

“I am sure it is rather less extravagant than that which you are used to.”

“Not at all.”

“Certainly not as sophisticated as you have had.”

Nick gave her a serious look, one that did not tolerate self-deprecation. “On the contrary, Isabel. This meal is the ideal end to an … extraordinary day.”

And there, in the deep, welcome tenor of his voice, was the thing that chased Isabel’s doubts away. His words were a dark promise that conjured images and emotions from their interaction in the statuary, making her wish that he would kiss her again. Making her wish that they were alone once more.

But they were not.

They were at dinner.

With people.

With children, for heaven’s sake.

She dipped her head, hiding her blush in her plate. “I am happy that you are enjoying it, my lord.”

“ … and then Lord Nicholas and I had our meeting.”

Isabel looked up at her brother’s words, meeting Lara’s surprised gaze. “Your meeting? What kind of meeting? ”

James seemed to remember that she was there. “A meeting of men.”

She sat back in her chair. “I beg your pardon?”

“We had something to discuss,” James said, simply.

She looked to Nick. “To discuss.”

He lifted his wineglass, making a production of drinking. “Quite.”

“I—” She turned back to James.
What could they possibly have been discussing without her?
“About what?”

“It’s really none of your concern, Isabel. I asked Lord Nicholas for a moment of his time, as earl.”

As earl?

Her eyes widened at her brother’s words. Mutely, she turned back to Nick, who was having obvious difficulty refraining from smiling. “I could not refuse, Lady Isabel. He is, indeed, the earl. And my host, no less.” He paused, then added, “This mutton is superb, the jelly in particular is excellent. Don’t you think, Rock?”

“I do,” the giant said, and Isabel did not miss the humor in his tone.

She would like to see both of them doused in jelly.

She looked to Lara, noted the amusement dancing in her cousin’s eyes, and scowled in her direction. Unmoved, Lara turned back to James and said, “And you have learned to tie quite an impressive cravat!”

“Oh, yes,” James said eagerly, reaching up to touch the neckwear in question. “Would you like to see me do it again?” Before Lara could answer, James had tugged on one end of his creation, destroying it in an entirely inappropriate display for the evening meal.

As he began his lesson in the proper method of cravat tying, Isabel leaned toward Nick. “As you can see,” she whispered, “my brother may be the earl, but he is in no way able to act as such on his own. I should like you to tell me what it was that you spoke about.”

Without taking his eyes from James, Nick replied, “You.”

Surely she had not heard that correctly. “Me?”

“You.”

“What of me?”

He took his time cutting a sliver of mutton and combining it with a piece of parsleyed potato. He chewed thoughtfully for a long moment, until Isabel’s frustration grew to the point where she could no longer remain silent. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Swallow!”

Nick turned with mock surprise. “Why, Lady Isabel, what forcefulness! You should be careful—you will give me a case of indigestion.”

“And what a sad situation that would be, Lord Nicholas.” He laughed, low and quiet, and warmth spread through her at the sound, audible only to her. “You are enjoying this.”

He met her eyes, and there was no mistaking the heat in his blue gaze. “I confess that I am. In fact, I find that I enjoy all of my time with you.”

Isabel blushed at the words, and the pleasure they brought.

What was he doing to her?

She could not allow him to reduce her to a simpering miss every time they spoke. Clearing her throat, she said, “I must insist, Lord Nicholas. What is it that you and James discussed?”

“You needn’t worry, Isabel,” Nick said. “Your brother is simply concerned about your welfare once he leaves for school.”

Isabel looked to James, awkwardly craning to see his cravat as Rock helped him to complete the elaborate knot. “And why would he think that speaking to you would help? ”

Nick sat back as their plates were cleared, leveling Isabel with a frank look. “He has devised a proposal to keep you safe, and was asking for my input.” He turned back to James, across the table. “Well done, James. That is certainly the best knot you’ve tied yet!”

James grinned his pleasure at the compliment, and turned to receive additional praise from Lara, who was heaping it upon both the young earl and Rock, for his assistance.

Isabel was unable to appreciate the tableau. Brow furrowed, she whispered to Nick, “What kind of proposal? ”

Waiting until Regina had cleared his empty plate, Nick finally leaned in close to Isabel. “He thinks we should marry.”

Isabel opened her mouth, closed it, and repeated the action.

One side of Nick’s mouth kicked up in amusement. “Why, Isabel. I do believe that I have rendered you speechless.”

“I—” Isabel stopped, uncertain of what to say.

“He has contemplated it quite thoroughly,” he said. “He believes that your ability to run a house and calculate your sums makes you an excellent candidate for a wife.”

Surely this was not happening. Not here. Not at her dinner table.

“He is eager for me to see you sit a horse, as well. I am told your equestrian prowess will win me over. I am looking forward to that.”

“I—”

“Also—and this is critical—you are not ugly.” She blinked.

Nick’s eyes danced with amusement. “Remember, Isabel. It was your brother who said it. I would not dare to take credit for such pretty words. I would have said something much more pedestrian. It takes a great orator to come up with—”

“Not ugly.” She gave a little shake of her head. “What a lovely compliment.”

“Ah. You have recovered your voice.” He smiled then, full and winning, and she could not help but match it.

“It would seem so.” She paused, “Tell me, my lord, will school help my brother to learn prettier words with which to woo his future countess? ”

“One can only hope,” he replied, “else we should be very concerned for the Reddich line.”

Isabel could not help but laugh at the bizarre turn of events, drawing the notice of their dinner companions.

“James did say one thing about Lady Isabel during our conversation that has me very intrigued.”

He had the attention of the entire table now, and Isabel felt a thread of nervousness uncoil. Surely he would not repeat anything embarrassing, would he?

“What was that, Lord Nicholas?” Lara prompted.

“He claims that she is a champion at charades.”

“Oh, she is!” Lara agreed. “I’ve never seen her equal.”

“I should like to see proof of that.” He leveled Isabel with a contemplative look. “But first, I believe that we have an appointment for dancing.”

Within moments, they had agreed to adjourn to the ballroom, and Isabel’s anticipation had set her on edge.

Nick held her chair as she stood, and Isabel turned to thank him, only to find him watching her thoughtfully. Distracted from her observation by his intensity, she dipped her head and said, “Thank you.”

He offered her his arm. When she took it, the heat of him rising up from the thick fabric of his coat, he leaned down and said, “I think you should know, I would have used a different phrase altogether to describe you.”

Isabel felt her heart quicken, but attempted a light air. “You mean, other than ‘not ugly'?”

“He did not smile, and all of a sudden, there seemed to be less air in the room than there had been previously. Isabel caught her breath in anticipation.

“I would have described you as magnificent.”