Enticing the Earl by Nicole Byrd Page B

friend. We do business together, that’s all. What made you think I wanted any of these people as long-term guests? And the fact remains, you are the one who seems to have invited them,” the earl retorted. “I had no mind to have a house full of people just now, Carter.”
    â€œOh, really?” Carter took a long look at Lauryn, who felt herself flush. “Just a private week in the country, eh? Well, I’m afraid I wasn’t made aware of your plans, brother mine. And speaking of the contessa—”
    He paused as another person emerged from the drawing room. Although she glided quietly enough through the open doorway, allowing only a burst of laughter and chatter to bubble around her, Lauryn felt it would have been more apt if there had been a blowing of trumpets to herald her emergence.
    This woman was stunningly beautiful, with quantities of dark hair held up by a silver comb, Spanish-style, and drawn into a half knot on the back of her head, then allowed to cascade down her neck. Her wine-colored evening dress had a deep neckline, revealing more cleavage and olive-toned skin than most English ladies usually permitted, but this did not seem to abash the contessa in the slightest. Her dark eyes sparkled nearly as much as the red-colored stones in the necklace about her neck—stones which Lauryn suspected were quite real. Everything about her was a little extravagant and a little overblown and very eye-catching. Lauryn couldn’t imagine how any other woman in the room would ever be noticed after the contessa entered.
    She herself felt at once as plain as yesterday’s stale bread, and very, very tired. Why had Lauryn thought she could do this? She should simply go back to Yorkshire here and now, take back her old black gowns and her place in the corner of her father-in-law’s sitting room. But with great effort she held herself erect, kept her chin up and a polite smile on her face. She would not reveal her sinking heart, no matter how much she wanted to turn and slink away.
    â€œDarlink’ Marcuz,” the contessa was saying in heavily accented English, putting out both her hands to the earl. “How lovely it is to zee you again.”
    â€œIndeed,” Sutton said, his tone less enthused, nodding but seeming not to see the lady’s outstretched wine-colored glove-clad hands. He kept a firm hold on Lauryn’s arm, instead.
    â€œAh, you have brought along a little friend, how agreeable. Veel you not introduce uz?”
    The earl looked pained, but he turned to Lauryn and said, “Mrs. Smith, may I present the Contessa d’Ellaye. We are old—”
    â€œ Belle amies ,” the contessa finished for him, her smile dazzling.
    â€œAcquaintances,” the earl corrected, his tone firm.
    Lauryn smiled, too, and gave the most graceful curtsy she could manage. Perhaps she would not steal away just yet, she told herself.
    â€œCome and join uz in ze drawing room, Marcuz. We are enjoying your vine, it is quite decent,” the Contessa told him.
    â€œNo doubt.” The earl gave his brother a look that made the younger man grin sheepishly.
    â€œNow, now, old man, it’s a celebration, remember.”
    â€œSo you said. I have yet to hear what we are celebrating,” Sutton told him. “If you will excuse us, Mrs. Smith would like to rest before dinner, and I—”
    â€œOh, right. No wonder you’re still looking so grim.” Carter brightened. “Though that is your normal—I mean—not to worry, Marcus. I shall buy you a whole new wine cellar! They’ve found the Brave Lassie !”
    This statement made no sense at all to Lauryn, but the earl, who had already turned toward the staircase, halted almost in midstep.
    â€œWhat did you say?” he demanded of his half brother.
    Carter beamed as he repeated, “You heard me—they’ve located the Brave Lassie ! And most of her cargo is