accusations and the exquisite Earl had made his inevitable rapid escape from Lydyard’s Pride.
She risked another glance at the Earl.
The ripple of laughter almost won despite the horrors. Because the Earl of Venmore was a Corinthian. All that Wallace wanted to be, tried so ineffectually to ape, here was his heart’s desire in the flesh. Wallace had the ambition to be a sportsman, proficient and lauded for his abilities in the saddle, with pistol and rapier. To be admired for his splendid physique, his handsome looks. To be recognised as a leader of fashion. He never could. And here standing before him was the epitome of all his dreams.
And hers.
Washed, shaved, his hair settling into shining, elegant dishevelment, the Earl cut a splendid figure. He was taller than she had thought, more than six feet, his shoulders impressively broad beneath the lurid monstrosity, and did she not know at first hand how the muscles ran sleek andsmooth, as water over a rock, beneath his skin, the athletic moulding of his strong thighs and firm belly? Did she not know the smooth satin of his skin beneath her palms when she had washed and bound his wounds? And Harriette felt her face and her blood heat at the memory.
How degrading that he should look at her with such arrogance printed on his features, as if she were of no consequence to him. But then why should she be? If he were a man of intellect, the Earl of Venmore would have quickly detected Wallace’s disgraceful plotting to catch a husband for her.
Her concentration was dragged back as her brother’s anger filled the room.
‘You have dishonoured my sister, Venmore. I demand retribution.’
‘No…! There was no dishonour,’ Harriette gasped, a knot of ice forming in her belly.
‘Be silent!’ Wallace rounded on her. ‘This is not for you. Although many would say you brought it on yourself, cavorting as you do with the Free Traders. I will settle this. What hopes for a suitable match if this gets out—as it surely will?’
‘Then there is only one remedy, is there not?’ A cold interjection in the heat.
The Earl walked across the room towards her, slowly but steadily enough. His eyes were on her face, and Harriette saw banked fire there and recognised a lethal fury at her brother’s wily methods. Even so, he bowed before her with inestimable grace.
‘Miss Lydyard. There is one solution to restore your good name in the eyes of the world. Would you do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage?’
Marriage! To become the wife of this man? The knot of ice melted in a rush of heat. If she could choose her heart’sdesire, would it not be this gift that was being offered to her, as in a childhood fairytale? A precious jewel on a silk cushion? She might have damned him as a traitor, but now she must acknowledge the depth of honour that he should come to her rescue, much as a knight of old would ride to slay the dragon—Wallace—and carry off the damsel in distress.
Would not this miraculous offer make her heady dreams come true?
But Harriette heard herself reply, her voice as distressingly matter of fact as his. ‘No, my lord. There is no need. As we both know, my brother was ill informed. I am grateful and will never forget your kindness in making so great a sacrifice, but I must refuse your generous offer.’
She saw him react. That was not what he had expected. The muscles along his jaw tightened. ‘Perhaps you do not quite understand the situation, Miss Lydyard.’
‘I am not a fool, my lord.’ A flash of impatience, which she strove to temper, but without much success. ‘I understand the situation perfectly. As I see it, there is no situation between us.’ And gasped as her brother grasped her wrist with painfully hot fingers.
‘Show some sense, girl—’
‘Sir Wallace,’ the Earl interrupted icily, raising a peremptory hand as Harriette tugged ineffectually for her release, ‘I need a moment’s private conversation with your sister. Alone,
She risked another glance at the Earl.
The ripple of laughter almost won despite the horrors. Because the Earl of Venmore was a Corinthian. All that Wallace wanted to be, tried so ineffectually to ape, here was his heart’s desire in the flesh. Wallace had the ambition to be a sportsman, proficient and lauded for his abilities in the saddle, with pistol and rapier. To be admired for his splendid physique, his handsome looks. To be recognised as a leader of fashion. He never could. And here standing before him was the epitome of all his dreams.
And hers.
Washed, shaved, his hair settling into shining, elegant dishevelment, the Earl cut a splendid figure. He was taller than she had thought, more than six feet, his shoulders impressively broad beneath the lurid monstrosity, and did she not know at first hand how the muscles ran sleek andsmooth, as water over a rock, beneath his skin, the athletic moulding of his strong thighs and firm belly? Did she not know the smooth satin of his skin beneath her palms when she had washed and bound his wounds? And Harriette felt her face and her blood heat at the memory.
How degrading that he should look at her with such arrogance printed on his features, as if she were of no consequence to him. But then why should she be? If he were a man of intellect, the Earl of Venmore would have quickly detected Wallace’s disgraceful plotting to catch a husband for her.
Her concentration was dragged back as her brother’s anger filled the room.
‘You have dishonoured my sister, Venmore. I demand retribution.’
‘No…! There was no dishonour,’ Harriette gasped, a knot of ice forming in her belly.
‘Be silent!’ Wallace rounded on her. ‘This is not for you. Although many would say you brought it on yourself, cavorting as you do with the Free Traders. I will settle this. What hopes for a suitable match if this gets out—as it surely will?’
‘Then there is only one remedy, is there not?’ A cold interjection in the heat.
The Earl walked across the room towards her, slowly but steadily enough. His eyes were on her face, and Harriette saw banked fire there and recognised a lethal fury at her brother’s wily methods. Even so, he bowed before her with inestimable grace.
‘Miss Lydyard. There is one solution to restore your good name in the eyes of the world. Would you do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage?’
Marriage! To become the wife of this man? The knot of ice melted in a rush of heat. If she could choose her heart’sdesire, would it not be this gift that was being offered to her, as in a childhood fairytale? A precious jewel on a silk cushion? She might have damned him as a traitor, but now she must acknowledge the depth of honour that he should come to her rescue, much as a knight of old would ride to slay the dragon—Wallace—and carry off the damsel in distress.
Would not this miraculous offer make her heady dreams come true?
But Harriette heard herself reply, her voice as distressingly matter of fact as his. ‘No, my lord. There is no need. As we both know, my brother was ill informed. I am grateful and will never forget your kindness in making so great a sacrifice, but I must refuse your generous offer.’
She saw him react. That was not what he had expected. The muscles along his jaw tightened. ‘Perhaps you do not quite understand the situation, Miss Lydyard.’
‘I am not a fool, my lord.’ A flash of impatience, which she strove to temper, but without much success. ‘I understand the situation perfectly. As I see it, there is no situation between us.’ And gasped as her brother grasped her wrist with painfully hot fingers.
‘Show some sense, girl—’
‘Sir Wallace,’ the Earl interrupted icily, raising a peremptory hand as Harriette tugged ineffectually for her release, ‘I need a moment’s private conversation with your sister. Alone,
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