The Rambunctious Lady Royston (2 page)

Samantha felt the heat rush into her face again at the sound of Isabella's giggle. "Crystal, your lordship," she returned, boldly offering a stiff bow. "We arrived in a hack, which I allowed to leave. With this crush of people it will be impossible to find another with as much speed as you require. I suggest you return Miss Ardsley to the bosom of her family, as I am more than slightly bored with the chit and quite put out that she made me miss the ascension. Good day, my lord," Samantha fairly beamed as she favored him with a slight bow. "The pleasure has been all mine."

Isabella was completely dumbfounded at her sister's ungentlemanly behavior and gasped a "Sam!" before swooning once more in the Earl's arms—an unlooked-for aid that made a success of Samantha's less than chivalrous abandonment. The Earl shot a look boding no good towards the youth's retreating back, but to pursue the young whelp and give him the sound thrashing he deserved he would have to leave the girl, which was quite impossible.

"We'll meet again, Smythe-Wright," he called after Samantha as he balanced Isabella against his right side. "And you will rue the day you were born!"

Samantha turned with a wide grin and saluted the Earl smartly before vanishing into the crowd.

She took her sweet time getting home, and by the time she returned (through the back door Daisy always left unlatched for her) Isabella was only one short step away from complete hysterics.

"Where have you been, Samantha?" she demanded. "I have been out of my mind with worry, and Papa has been home for the last half hour. What if he had asked for you?"

Samantha hurriedly got out of her borrowed breeches and donned the muslin gown Daisy held out to her. She sat herself in front of the mirror and let down the burnished curls that had been pinned up to fit under her brother's curly-brimmed beaver. "Don't put yourself into a pet, Izzy. I'm home safe and dry, as always." She allowed a bit of a snicker to escape her lips. "Did you enjoy the Earl's company?"

"I most certainly did not! He frightens me right out of my wits! The worst of it is, he insists on calling upon me tomorrow because he wants more information on my
escort
. He'll tear a wide strip off your skin if ever he finds you out, he was that incensed. What are we going to do? I cannot receive him alone; Aunt Loretta always falls asleep in the corner when we're entertaining guests. I know I shall end up blurting out the truth, I just know it. Oh, I wish I were dead!" Isabella ended dramatically.

Samantha finished brushing her hair and turned to her distraught sister. "Never fear, Izzy. I landed us in this muddle and I shall get us out again. Both Miss Isabella and her schoolroom baby sister Samantha shall entertain the Earl tomorrow. And I dare him to get around me!"

"The Earl of Royston, ma'am."

Miss Loretta Ardsley, Sir Stephen's middle-aged spinster sister (whose sole claim to beauty lay in her extremely long, black eyelashes, which were once the subject of a sonnet by some dull-witted swain who disappeared in a fortnight), placed a steadying hand to her throat and fluttered those once praised attributes at the forbidding form now darkening the doorway of the small salon.

"Your lordship, it is an honor, what a great honor indeed, to welcome you to our humble abode. Such condescension, I am sure," cooed the lady.

Samantha, sitting next to her sister on the small sofa, leaned towards her now to whisper, "Laying it on a bit too thick and rare, don't you think?"

Isabella threw her a look meant to squelch any further dangerous outbursts and raised her fan in an imitation of some envied debutante or other.

"La, yes, my lord," Isabella broke in as her aunt lost herself in inanities. "It is so very kind of you to call. Allow me to present to you my aunt, Miss Loretta Ardsley, and my young sister, who has come to bear me company for my time in the metropolis—Miss Samantha Ardsley."

The Earl bowed over each lady's hand in turn, pausing longest over Samantha's as he searched her features with a strange expression on his face.

"Charmed, I'm sure, ladies."

Aunt Loretta rang for tea almost immediately, for lack of any other ideas to pass the time, and after serving it and trying to add her bit to the rather insipid polite conversation, she retreated to a corner where she quickly—and predictably—fell into a light doze.

At the sound of her slight snores the Earl carefully placed his teacup on the table and addressed his next words to Isabella. "Have you located the direction of our Mr. Smythe-Wright, madam?"

"I, er, that is, I—"

Samantha cut in quickly. "What my sister is trying to say is that Mr. Smythe-Wright is an old family friend and we do not wish to see him punished. You see, we grew up together, and Samuel was always a rather simple soul, if you get my meaning. We have never quite held him responsible for his rather loose-screw starts. We regret any inconvenience to your lordship, but we wish the subject dropped."

His lordship chewed on his lip for a moment with what looked strongly like suppressed amusement, then rearranged his satanic features into an emotionless mask and informed Samantha stiffly, "I do not share your easy forgiveness, missy. I've been insulted, and demand a chance to tear a strip from the dolt's hide."

"See, Samantha, I told you he would want—"

"Isabella," Samantha shut her off, "I do believe Aunt Loretta is being rude to our guest. Kindly wake her up."

Isabella colored prettily—she was a delightful, tiny blonde thing—and rose to do, as usual, just as her younger sister bid her do. But she was stopped short by the Earl's next words.

"Yes, do go and sit by your aunt's side, Miss Ardsley. I wish a few private words with your, er, sister."

Samantha's eyes commanded Isabella to stay where she was as Lord Royston's eyes demanded her departure and, sad to say, the Earl's look won out. With a defeated shrug of her shoulders, Isabella retired to the corner and sat watching her aunt's nostrils widen and contract as she continued to snooze on.

Samantha tensed and would have risen to quit the room had not the Earl's hand come down hard on her wrist. "I think not, my dear. I allowed you to run off yesterday, but I'm not so encumbered today and would follow you immediately."

"Sir, I wish to go to my chambers."

"If you wish," he shrugged indifferently. "I am no stranger to a woman's boudoir."

"How dare you!" Samantha bristled.

"Quite easily, Mr. Smythe-Wright, quite easily. I sincerely hope your father beat you often when you were a child."

Samantha searched his face and saw a glint of humor in his dark eyes. "Soundly, my lord, at least until he announced it a worthless expenditure of his energy. Now I am merely confined to my chambers whenever I am caught out, er, overstepping my boundaries."

The Earl threw back his head and laughed, his face completely transformed by this simple act. "Which is seldom, I wager—that you are caught out, I mean."

Isabella cringed in her chair at the sight of this huge man, who was feared by all in the
ton
, and clapped her dainty hands over her shell-like ears. Samantha did nothing of the sort. She threw back her own head and joined in the joke.

The Earl sobered first and returned his gaze to the girl facing him. "How old are you, Miss Ardsley?"

"I am ten-and-seven, my lord, with a birthday in two months. But I cannot make my come-out until Isabella is advantageously bracketed and off Papa's hands. My arrival on the scene before that time, according to my sire, would be enough to make any man of sense shy away from leg-shackling himself to a family with a bent towards madness," Samantha supplied candidly.

Isabella shrieked and ran out of the room when she heard her sister tell London's most eligible bachelor such a thing. Aunt Loretta roused for a moment from her nap, smiled in the general direction of the Earl, waved languidly, and returned to her dreams.

"I must apologize, my lord." Samantha said without a hint of remorse. "I should not have said that about my sister. Please disregard it completely."

The Earl sat back in his chair and considered the figure before him. She made a passable boy, but her figure was definitely enhanced by female fripperies. She was yet somewhat a child and still had some slight filling out to do, but she was the first girl whose head had ever come up to his shoulders. How he hated all these petite misses; he forever had a crick in his neck from bending down to hear their senseless chatter. Her eyes were very intriguing, too—green as emeralds and of a pleasing almond shape under those dark, wing-like brows.

He surprised himself by asking, "How do you come by dark lashes and brows when your hair is copper?"

If Samantha found anything strange in this question she did not show it on her face. "My brows are like my mother's, I imagine, as she had the same coloring. She was Irish. And my hair is a common red, not copper."

"No, no, child. Red does not describe it at all. I stand by my description. You have a brother, I believe."

"Yes, my lord," she answered, then took a deep breath and added in a challenging voice, "Wallace is in his last year at Cambridge, much to his chagrin. He feels the time spent with his head between the pages of a book could be put to better use polishing the buttons on a Hussar uniform. My mother died when I was three. My father is a younger son who makes his living on a small estate in the country. This is our first trip to London, made only to present my sister to polite society. I no longer have a governess, although I put three of them through the hoops over the past ten years, causing the last to retire to her brother's parsonage not six months ago in a complete collapse. I ride extremely well, have a fair to middling command of the French language, hate needlework, loathe politics, break out in spots if I eat green beans, and my teeth are tolerably good," she concluded triumphantly. "Now, if there's nothing else you desire I would like to withdraw and check on my sister."

She made to rise, but at his firm "Sit down!" she fell back into her chair with a thump. "You are distressed, and rightly so, both by my questions and my manner. If I were a gentleman I feel sure I would be moved to apologize. But I am not, and besides, you must admit its not every day that a man is confronted with a young girl with fire and spirit such as yours. I will thank you for your candor and will endeavor to return the courtesy."

"Don't burst a stitch on my account, your lordship, as I find myself not in the least intrigued by your life story," Samantha returned sarcastically.

The Earl ignored this outburst and rose to stand behind his chair, forcing her to arch her neck as she looked into his face. "I am Zachary St. John, twelfth Earl of Royston, worth a good seventy thousand a year, and a bachelor of thirty years. I own three major estates—all large and productive—a mansion in Mayfair, a hunting box in Scotland, and have a considerable stable. The St. John jewels are known as one of the premier collections in the realm, and I am the most eligible and elusive bachelor in the city."

"Huzzah to you, my lord. Most impressive. Are you thinking of putting yourself up for sale? I'm certain many would be tempted to make you an offer."

"These are all minor things," he said, and then dismissed it all with a sweep of one strong, tanned hand. In a more serious tone he continued: "I have two major problems, and until today I had no way of solving either. The first is that I am bored. I can see that surprises you, but it's nevertheless true. I am bored to extinction with my life, my friends, my money, and my title. The second problem is that, at the advanced age of thirty, I have no heir. Until last year this lack did not bother me in the slightest, as I had a younger brother who I was more than happy to have succeed me when I finally am handed my notice to quit. Unfortunately, he was lost in the war."

"I am so sorry, your lordship," Samantha supplied, her tender heartstrings touched. The suddenly vulnerable look in his dark eyes she dismissed as none of her concern, especially since it was almost instantly replaced by his usual devilish stare.

"Do not interrupt," he warned curtly. "As my friends, such as they are, will tell you, I am a very unlikable man. I am hated or endured for my politics—depending upon your leanings—work and play hard as is my wont, and take what I desire when I see it. Yet, as I said, I'm bored with my existence. In fact, the only emotion I have felt since the grief engendered by my brother's death was my extreme annoyance with you yesterday. Today you have amused me, my second voyage into this phenomenon called emotion in two days. I have astonished myself. I look at you and I am already assured you would never bore me, or at least not for some time. Therefore it would seem my first problem is solved."

There was really nothing to say to that, so Samantha, believing she was for once in her life behaving prudently, said nothing.

"Strangely, solving the first problem also solves the second. You're young in years, but not that young, and probably haven't been young in most ways in a decade, at least where it counts. Therefore, I shall approach your father this afternoon for your hand. The wedding shall take place before the month is out. I like things to be neat, don't you?"

Samantha jumped to her feet. "You're out of your mind!" she accused shrilly.

"That had occurred to me, Sam." He started towards the door. "And close your mouth. It makes you look simple-minded, and that's the one thing I know you are not."

"My name is Samantha," she shouted at his retreating back. "And I wouldn't marry you if you came wrapped up in priceless gold chains and were next in line for the throne."

He turned towards her and smiled. "Really? I don't know of another woman in England who would cast me aside so quickly. I hope you never come to love me, for you would lose all your fire."

"There's scant chance of that eventuality. I loathe you! To put it in terms you should be able to comprehend, you are a conceited, pompous ass."

"Good," he returned, not turning a hair. "You'll give me lusty sons, Sam. That's really all I require."

Samantha sat down heavily and burst into tears.