Beechley Park, West Sussex
Seated before thefire, Brendan Cowper, Earl of Debnam, nudged the lazy hound sleeping at his feet. Hunter merely stretched and rolled over onto his back. Brendan reread the letter in his hand, then looked up at the portrait of his father on the opposite wall. He should take it down. Shove it in the attic, where it belonged. But somehow, there it remained. A daily reminder that he must stay the course and never be tempted to marry.
A log rolled in the grate, and he rose to push it back with the poker. That he was unable to marry did not bar him from enjoying life. There were always comely women to discover. Miss Laura Peyton, for instance. She’d offered no explanation as to the reason she hadn’t married years before. He could only guess at a love affair gone wrong. He’d found a potent mix of expressions in her dazzling, sky-blue eyes. While he’d expected her to be innocent, he’d begun to doubt it. He’d caught his breath at the smoldering spark of arousal before she’d turned away. Intrigued, he wished to discover more about her. There would be little harm in a brief affair, he told himself. It was common knowledge her brother was in financial straits. He could help with that. They could conduct their liaison in secrecy at his country estate to avoid gossip. Then, when they tired of each other, Laura would return to the security of her home, with no one the wiser. She could then find a suitable husband who would be lucky to have her.
“Come on, boy. Let’s take that walk.” Brendan polished off the last of the brandy in his glass and stood. His dog, Hunter, rose and shook himself, impatient to have one last chance to catch the squirrel who had been taunting him, before bed.
“You should give up, Hunter. You make a mockery of your name.” It had grown late. The moon shone down from the long windows above the dark hulk of yew trees, the gardens bathed in silvery light. He was tired but would not sleep well, for the nights haunted him. Even a woman sharing his bed failed to give him that longed-for contentment. But it’d be fun to try to forget with the lovely Miss Peyton.
Chapter Two
In the afternoon,Laura’s reluctant steps took her to the great hall, where her luggage waited. She glanced around at the high-beamed ceiling, the carved, oak staircase winding to the upper floors, the dusty tapestries and faded paintings on the oak-paneled walls. She’d been born here. Her father had taught her to ride a pony and then a horse in the paddocks behind the stables, while her mother had presided over the house, which had always smelled of flowers and polish and the aromas of delicious meals. Laura rubbed at the tightness in her chest and eyed a cobweb near the door. How changed the house now was. And how changed she and Robert were. Was it even possible for her to return here and find peace, after… She bit her lip. It was nonsense to suggest she could marry. A gentleman expected to marry a virgin or a respectable widow. And she refused to live a lie.
The rattle of coach wheels and jiggle of harnesses sounded on the carriage drive. Moments later, the bell clanged at the door. Robert hurried from the library.
On the porch, a footman in Lord Debnam’s livery awaited them. Robert directed him to the luggage and walked out with Laura to where the coach waited with a groom at the head of four fine thoroughbreds. Her brother avoided meeting her eyes as they said their farewells, pecking her cheek and wishing her happiness, as if she were going to her wedding. His voice was gruff with emotion, but to her, his words had a hollow ring.
Laura glanced once more at the dark, brick walls covered with ivy, the aged trees of the park, and the rim of woodland as Lord Debnam stepped down from the coach. How serious he looked as Robert greeted him. Laura felt as if they were embarking on a runaway marriage.Far from the truth, she thought bitterly, aware the curious servants observed them from behind the curtains. Cook had looked worried when Laura had told her she would be away for a month.
His tall beaver in his hand, Lord Debnam’s eyes met hers. He bowed. “Miss Peyton.”
“My lord.” Laura caught her breath. In his tight-fitting, light-colored trousers, pale-green waistcoat, and dark-green tailcoat, he looked so big and so commanding, her courage almost deserted her. And then he smiled.
Lord Debnam gave every appearance of being a gentleman, and she would expect him to continue to act like one. She tried not to think ahead to when they would be alone. And what he would expect of her. But the question kept returning to her thoughts and unsettled her further.
“Shall we?” He gestured to the coach, a glossy, dark-blue vehicle with the earl’s crest on the door. The magnificent chestnuts stamped their hooves, as impatient to be gone as he appeared to be.
She realized she’d been hesitating. A glance at his face astonished her. She’d expected to find the rakish gentleman she’d met at the ball, not this serious man who took her arm to help her inside the coach.
Sitting opposite him, she busied herself ordering the skirts of her lavender carriage gown around her like a fortification, reassured by the more-than-a-dozen toggle fastenings down the front.
“I’m pleased you came.” He reached over, took her nervous gloved fingers, and raised them to his lips.
She withdrew them. “You must have expected it, surely. You arranged this with my brother.”
He frowned. “Your brother’s letter of agreement implied you were quite willing. That you were both delighted to have your financial difficulties at an end. It’s not too late. I can take you back…”
Back to Robert? When he might kill himself? She forced a smile. “Do not concern yourself, my lord. Robert was correct.”
“Not ‘my lord.’ ‘Debnam’ will suffice.” His eyes searched hers. “It’s my hope you’ll enjoy our time together.” His eyes darkened to slate, making her wonder if anything she did or said could upset him. While she was angry with him, and more so with Robert, she didn’t want to hurt him. It would be of no purpose to reveal the truth of her situation when he clearly was mistaken. And it would make for a very unpleasant journey. He might still order the coach to turn around and take her home. Back to what? Demanding his money returned, which would cause uncertainty and heartache. What lay ahead could hardly be worse. But even while she forced a smile on her lips, she thought of ways she might delay matters. At least until he became less of a stranger to her. She wondered if that was even possible.
Lord Debnam’s smile revealed even white teeth. Undeniably attractive. Confident. A practiced rake who had bedded many willing women. The thought brought the blood rushing up her neck. Laura put a hand to the high collar and took a deep breath to calm herself.
“We have a lengthy drive ahead.” The earl removed a rug from beneath the seat and spread it over her knees. He sat back and looked at her. “Perhaps you could tell me more about yourself.”
She shrugged. “There is little to tell. Robert and I were born at Longworth. My father and mother died there.” How different it would have been if they’d lived. What would Father have made of this? Appalled, she pushed the thought away.
The earl raised dark eyebrows at her brief reply. She looked into his changeable gray eyes, which seemed to reflect his mood. In a ballroom they had been a warm, blue gray, teasing and full of humor, but now they took on the color and impenetrability of a deep lake on a cloudy day. She suspected he was a complex man, for why else would he have made this unconventional arrangement? And why her? Because she had refused him when no other woman would? He could have his pick of eager women. Beautiful women, younger than she. Or was he bored with his mistresses and wanted something different? She kept returning to this and really must stop. It made her shiver. She tucked the rug around her knees.
“You’re still cold?” Lord Debnam produced a flask from his pocket. “A little brandy to warm you?”
She never drank spirits but could certainly do with some Dutch courage. “Thank you.” She reached out for it and took a deep sip. The rush of strong liquor ran down the back of her throat, setting a fire as it went. Laura gasped and coughed. She handed it back, not trusting her voice.
“Unused to brandy?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
She nodded, suspecting he found it amusing.
He tucked the flask in his pocket and crossed his long legs. “Shall I tell you something of my estate?”