Kiss the Earl by Gina Lamm

didn’t—she kind of needed Patrick right now.
    â€œFor the love of the saints,” he said, turning away. “You are in pain. Enough of this nonsense.” He turned to the washbasin then. Ella fought the urge to throw something at his head.
    She knew that the ache in her feet was her own fault. His snarky comments were just adding insult to injury.
    â€œHere. This water is fairly warm. We’ll wash your feet, and then I’ll ring for some brandy and bandages.” He knelt in front of her, placing the porcelain basin at her feet. Ella fought the urge to kick him.
    â€œI can handle this,” she protested as he picked up her foot. “Besides, I need to take my tights off.”
    He crooked a brow at her, his large hand warm on her ankle. “Tights?”
    She wasn’t really sure why she did it, but she was extremely gratified at the way his eyes went round as she yanked up her dress’s hem and showed him the lacy tops of her now-ruined legwear. “Yup. Aptly named, huh? They’re tight.”
    He swallowed, not saying a word as she shimmied them down her legs, slowly pulling one foot free. She repeated the motion on the other side, hissing with pain as she then lowered her feet into the tepid water.
    Rocking back on his heels, he looked at her. Ella, not one to back down from a challenge, stared right back, hoping that she looked a lot tougher than she felt.
    â€œWhy were you there, all on your own, in the street tonight?”
    His softly voiced question seemed to shoot right through her. She didn’t look away, even though her nerves started to vibrate with alarm. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    â€œYes you do.”
    Without moving from that spot, he lifted her left foot, cupping the water in his hand and sluicing it down her sole. She gritted her teeth against the sting.
    â€œMiss Ella Briley, who is acquainted with the Duchess of Granville and no one else. Who had only one pair of shoes and tossed them away. Whose lips should not be quite so red, cheeks not quite so pink, hair not streaked with purple. Your attire is strange, your accent and words stranger, and you worry for my safety as if you’ve a vested interest in me.”
    She gripped the sheets so hard she was afraid they’d rip. The whispered words came from somewhere deep inside her.
    â€œYou’d never believe me.”
    His big hands were so gentle, but she still winced as he carefully wiped the dirt away from the puncture on her heel.
    â€œTry me.”
    Ella bit her lip, looking around the inn’s room, one of the finest in the Hart and Dove. She’d seen walk-in closets bigger than this. Not hers, of course, but other people’s. Mostly on HGTV. There was dark paneling on the walls, a couple of candles on the nightstand, and a candelabra on a cabinet in the corner. The rest of the room held a bed that was about the size of a double, a chair, and what was quite obviously a handwoven rug on the floor. That was it. It was so different from what she was used to.
    How could she ever make him believe her?
    â€œI’m waiting, Miss Briley.” He lowered her foot into the water and stood, apparently not afraid to use his height to intimidate.
    She cleared her throat, more for time than anything else. “If I tell you, do you promise not to laugh? Or think I’m a lunatic?”
    His broad hand cupped his chin, stroking the stubble there. “Laugh? I can safely promise that, I think. But as to your sanity, I cannot claim to know its status.”
    Ella rolled her eyes. “Do you have to put everything in such flowery terms?”
    â€œFlowery? I do not take your meaning.”
    â€œNever mind. Just…never mind.” Ella curled her toes in the pinkish-stained water. “Before I tell you, I want us to get a couple of things straight. First of all, your fiancée. I know she’s missing, and you’ve got to be worried. I promise to help