The Seduction of an Earl (18 page)

The comment did not illicit a response from the direction of the stove, and Mrs. Batey looked as if she could offer nothing more in response. Hannah straightened, realizing her forthright manner was unexpected. “I am a realist, Mrs. Batey. I know I sometimes look like I walked off the pages of a medieval fairy tale, but I am no milkmaid. Marrying Lord Gisborn was my best chance at finding happiness as a mother. He needs an heir. And a spare. And my other suitors only seemed to want my dowry to pay off gambling debts.”

The air seemed to go out of Mrs. Batey as her shoulders slumped. Even the cook had turned her attention to the countess, one fisted hand planted firmly on her ample hip.

“So, I was wondering. Why is it Miss Inglenook and Nathaniel don’t live here at Gisborn Hall?”

Before Mrs. Batey could even begin to respond, Mrs. Chambers stepped forward. “I’ll tell you why,” she announced, a rather grim look on her face.

“Mrs. Chambers!” the housekeeper tried to admonish her.

“She’s too
independent
,” the cook continued, as if she hadn’t heard the housekeeper. “Always was. Why, she wouldn’t even live in the dower house exceptin’ as the old earl
required
her to as long as Nathan was living with her. The old earl adored that kid.”

Hannah regarded the cook in surprise. “But, where would she live if she didn’t have the dower house?”

The housekeeper leaned forward, keeping her voice very low. “His lordship would see to a house for her in the village, of course,” she remarked. “They used to have one on the outskirts of Bampton after the boy was born.”

“His lordship had to come back from Oxford every few days back then, to see to the girl,” Mrs. Chambers added, wiping her hands on a towel. “But he still saw to his studies, even after the babe was born. Finished near the top of his class, he did.”

Listening to the two women talk of Henry’s earlier life brought a smile to Hannah’s face. “He did right by her, at least,” she offered, wondering why the cook would seem upset with Sarah’s independent streak.

“And he would have married her, but the girl wouldn’t have him. Thought he was too ...”

“Mrs. Chambers!” The housekeeper gave the cook a quelling look. “I’m sure the countess is well aware of her husband’s traits.”

“Mark my words. Sarah Inglenook will be gone just as soon as the son is off to school,” the cook added with a firm nod. “As I hear it, she’s being courted by some cit in Bampton.”

A loud gasp emanated from the housekeeper. “Mrs. Chambers! That will be quite enough from you!” Mrs. Batey announced in a voice that actually sent the cook back to the stove.

Hannah remembered Sarah’s odd comment implying two weeks would be
enough time
. She must have meant enough time before she would be betrothed.
So Sarah expected an offer for her hand from the cit in Bampton!
Sarah could be a married woman before Nathan left for Abingdon School.

That would leave Hannah with the earl to herself.

There was a moment when the thought brought a sense of calm to her, a feeling of satisfaction, as if having Henry Forster to herself was what she truly wanted. Perhaps she did. Perhaps Henry would decide he preferred only one woman in his life. And if not, he could always take another as his mistress. Well, Hannah hadn’t expected him to honor his marriage vows when she agreed to marry him. There was no reason to think that he would even if Sarah was married to another.

One thing was certain. Hannah would have to do everything in her power to see to it Henry spent his nights in her bed. It was the least she could do for Sarah until the woman was safely betrothed. Hannah thanked the servants for their insight and excused herself from the kitchen.

Making her way up the stairs to change for dinner, Harold following on her heels, Hannah thought of Elizabeth’s recommendations on how to keep a husband happy. She felt her face flush as she remembered some of Elizabeth’s descriptions of things she’d done in her marriage bed – even when round with child! Some of those acts she could not imagine herself doing, but some of them ... she might have to employ a few if she wanted to keep Henry coming to her bed for another two or three weeks.

Once in her room, Hannah rang for Lily and made her way to her vanity. Her maid would be able to fix her hair and help her into a suitable dinner gown. When the maid hadn’t appeared after ten minutes, Hannah moved to ring the bell again. Her hand stopped, though, when, breathless, Lily hurried into the room. “I apologize, my lady,” her maid managed to get out as she bobbed a curtsy. “I ... got lost,” the girl said as her faced turned a bright red. “I still do not know my way around this house.”

Hannah grinned and angled her head to one side. “It’s quite alright, Lily. I just need to dress for dinner,” she said as she stepped behind the screen. “I am thinking the gold velvet gown,” she murmured, “And my hair is in dire need of a repair.”

Lily dipped her head and hurried into the dressing room.
I should tell her
, she thought as she pulled the gown from a hook.
But if I do, I may never be able to leave Gisborn Hall.
She was all business when she emerged with the gown and a pair of slippers.

Holding her breath as if she thought someone might hear it, Lily crept down the hallway outside her room and made her way to the back door by the kitchen. She clutched her valise, the tapestry bag containing every stitch of clothing she owned along with a few mementos. If she could make it out the door and around Gisborn Hall without disturbing an animal, she would be able to reach the lane to the village and the road to Bampton just beyond it. Thomas knew she was leaving her mistress to join him tonight. He would be waiting for her somewhere along the road past the village. He would have his gig and a horse. With luck, and the moonlight that shown down on the road, they would be well on their way to Gretna Green before the sky turned pink at dawn.

She was quite sure she’d been silent as she closed the back door, putting down the valise so she could keep the door knob and bolt drawn back. Once she was sure the door was seated in its jamb, she reached down to pick up her valise. A shadow fell over her and she gasped.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Billy whispered, his breaths showing up as white puffs in the air around them.

“Oh, good God, you scared me,” Lily hissed back. Her heartbeats were already thundering in her ears. The shock of him being so close so suddenly ... “What are you
doing
out here?” she whispered, realizing the groom had to have already been outside.

Billy was about to admonish her for scaring
him
, but realized he would sound like a sissy if he did. “I was headin’ to the kitchen for a bite,” he replied, sounding every bit as indignant as he could. “Are you ... leaving?” he asked then, his voice softening. “Leaving the countess?”
Leaving Gisborn Hall?

He’d been surprised when Lily Parker showed up in the earl’s old carriage the day before yesterday. She was from a farm outside of Witney, her family in service to the landed gentry that lived in the main house there. When she’d gone off to London to take a position in an aristocrat’s home, Billy had thought she’d never return to Oxfordshire. Others who had left for London, seeking employment or their fortune, never returned to Bampton-in-the-Bush.

Lily took a deep breath and let it out, her breath a white billow between them. “You cannot say anything to anyone,” she whispered, resigned to having to admit her plan. “I have to meet Thomas near Bampton. We’re going to marry in Scotland,” she added, her bare hands pulled into fists against her coat. It was far colder than she expected; she had no winter gloves, and only a scarf to cover her head.

“You’re gonna marry that wanker?” he asked in disgust. “Lily, ya deserve better than him,” he hissed. “
I
would be better for you than him,” he said under his breath, his comment meant to challenge her assessment of Thomas Babcock. And, perhaps, make her believe he
would
be better than his former best friend.

“Billy O’Conlin!” Lily admonished him, trying to keep her voice to a hoarse whisper and nearly failing. “How dare you? Thomas has a good position in Bampton, and he’s a year older than me.”

“Which means he’s, what? Eighteen?” he countered quickly. Had there been more than just moonlight to see by, Lily might have seen the hurt in Billy’s eyes. He was seventeen. He’d known her from their days helping with the harvest, always thought of Lily as someone he might court once they were of a certain age. And then Lily left for London and her position in Devonville House. He thought he would never see her again, and then, wonder of wonders, she’d stepped out of the earl’s ancient carriage looking ever so sophisticated, so confident in her crisp maid’s uniform. And he’d fallen head over ears in love with her.

“He’s seventeen. He .. loves me.” The words were spoken softly, as if she might be trying to convince herself as much as him of her suitor’s conviction to her.

The groom shrugged, suddenly realizing he wouldn’t be able to change her mind. What could he offer her? He might become the head of the stables or a footman someday, but he would always work in service to the earl.

He allowed his gaze to take her all in, from the top of her woolen scarf covering her golden brown hair down to her sturdy shoes. “You won’t be getting far if you freeze ta death,” Billy countered. “Come on,” he said as he stuffed his hands into his pea coat pockets and headed for the stables.

Sighing, Lily followed him, not sure what he had in mind. She passed over the dimly-lit threshold and inhaled the scent of hay and horse manure. At least it was warmer in the stables. She watched as Billy scampered up a wooden ladder to a room above the stalls, surprised to realize it was his room. He disappeared and soon came out carrying a pair of work gloves. Constructed for labor as opposed to fashion, the well-worn gray gloves were at least warm. Lily pulled them on and wiggled her fingers. “I don’t know that I’ll be able to get these back to you,” she spoke quietly.

“S’aright,” Billy replied, his head leaning to one side. “The earl got me a new pair when he promoted me,” he said with a hint of pride, hoping she understood that he was no longer the lowest of servants in the Gisborn household.

Lily regarded the groom. He couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen, she thought. “Thank you. Please, Billy, ... don’t say anything,” she pleaded, a look of worry appearing on her face.

Billy shook his head. “You did leave a note for Lady Gisborn,” he said more than asked. “Or Mrs. Batey?”

Dipping her head, Lily shook it. “I ... cannot write very well,” she said, her eyes not meeting his. Her face reddened at the admission. “And I ... I don’t know anyone else on the staff I would tell ...”

“Christ.” The word came out in a whisper, Billy obviously not pleased with her decision to leave without so much as a fare thee well. “She’ll think you were kidnapped or something gawd awful,” he countered, becoming a bit incensed that she would just leave. “I’ll keep your secret, Lily, but only until someone asks me directly, and then I’m telling.”

Lily bit her lip but nodded. “Alright,” she agreed. After all, who would ask the groom if he knew the whereabouts of a lady’s maid? She gave Billy a knock on the arm and dipped her head again. “Thank you.” Before she could change her mind, she took up her valise and turned to leave the stables.

Billy’s hand reached out and ensnared her elbow, forcing her to spin around and face him. He suddenly had one arm around her waist and another at her face. “Oh, Lily,” he whispered, his face filled with pain. And then his lips were covering hers, his kiss as urgent as it was filled with passion.

Startled but unable to push Billy away, Lily allowed the assault, a series of sharp, bright stars stunning her vision. She closed her eyes and allowed him to do his worst, her own lips responding to his before she was even aware she was doing so. A moan escaped her throat as warmth surrounded her entire body, filled her from the inside. The sound spurred him on as he readjusted how he held her against him. Suddenly, the fronts of their bodies were fitted together as if they belonged that way, her curves filling his voids and his sharp angles and muscles nestling into the softness of her body. A slight movement of his hand on her back, and she was pressing into him harder, not sure if she was doing the pushing or if he was simply pulling her closer. A shiver of pleasure passed through her entire body, followed by a tenseness that signaled danger. And then, just as quick as it had begun, Billy pulled his lips away from hers. “Do not go, Lily,” he whispered, his forehead pressed against hers

Lily’s eyes flew open.
What have I done?
This was Billy O’Conlin! This wasn’t Thomas Babcock, the boy who she’d fallen in love with so many years ago. Pressing her palms against Billy’s chest, she pushed hard, grabbed her valise and hurried out of the stables, barely aware of her surroundings or of the sudden chill that infused her body as she made her way to the lane and the village beyond.

The walk proved invigorating; the chill deepened as she passed between the scattered farmhouses that made up the earl’s village. She tried in vain not to think of Billy’s kiss, not to think of how warm she’d felt, of how their bodies had fitted together, of how truly bereft he’d seemed on learning she was leaving the Gisborn household. But she couldn’t think of him now. She was on her way to meet her true love. Thomas. He would be waiting with a horse and carriage somewhere close to Bampton.

Only one animal, or rather, a whole lot of the same kind of animal, took exception to her midnight stroll when she passed in front of the Cavenaugh’s house. The dogs whimpered and whined and one barked, its low ‘woof’ more of a warning than a threat. She increased her pace until the sound of the dogs no longer reached her ears.

She was almost to Bampton when she spotted a small conveyance parked alongside the road, an old bay in the yoke. At the sound of her approach, the huddled form atop the box turned and exhaled a cloud of white. ”Lily?“ she heard before she saw the form straighten. The movement startled the horse, but he’d been hobbled and gave a snort.

“Thomas?” she countered, hurrying to reach the gig. And then Thomas was down from the box and wrapping his arms around her, his nose buried into the space between her shoulder and neck while her face pressed against his chest. “Oh, Thomas, I have missed you so much,” she murmured, glad for the warmth of his body and the blanket he had draped across his back.

“Finally,” he replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Is that all you have?” the boy asked, motioning to her valise.

“Yes,” she replied with a shrug. “Everything I own,” she added, moving a gloved hand to his face. He was older than she remembered, the planes of his face straighter, his cheeks a bit more hollow, his eyebrows slashes on his forehead; she had to chide herself for thinking he would look exactly the same as he did when she’d left Bampton over two years ago.