My Brown-Eyed Earl Read online

  As if she knew the mesmerizing effect she had on him.

  “Since you are at our disposal—” she began.

  He frowned. “I didn’t say that.”

  “We will make a day-long outing of it. After we make our many purchases”—she tapped a slender finger on her chin—“we shall take the girls to Hyde Park for fresh air and a chance to play.”

  “Play? Shouldn’t they return to the nursery to memorize poems or something?”

  “And after the park, we shall stop at Gunter’s for ice cream.”

  He opened his mouth to object, but then he imagined Miss Lacey, closing her eyes in ecstasy as she savored a creamy spoonful of ice cream. Six hours of carrying parcels might be worth that one moment.

  “What’s your favorite flavor?” he asked, the huskiness of his voice betraying his wickedness. “Peach? Orange? Or something more exotic … like jasmine?”

  She shot him the blistering look mastered by governesses the world ’round. “You,” she said evenly, “will never—ever—know.”

  Chapter FOUR

  “Oh, look at this one!” Valerie pointed to a sapphire silk evening gown in the fashion magazine she and her sister leafed through. “So pretty.”

  “You’d only spill jam on it,” Diana said.

  “I suppose you’re right.” Valerie sighed.

  Meg thanked the shopkeeper, who was wrapping several items for them, and placed a hand on Valerie’s shoulder. “It is a very fancy dress.”

  “That’s what I told her!” Diana shook her head like a dowager duchess frustrated by the frivolities of the young.

  Meg let her fingers trail over the magazine page, tracing the delicate beading at the bottom of the gown. “However, I think every girl deserves to have at least one fancy dress in her armoire. Why don’t we ask the dressmaker if she could fashion something in a similar shade of blue—to match your pretty eyes?”

  Valerie’s chest swelled and her eyes shone as she nodded, as though she was too overcome to speak.

  “Shall I add a blue gown to your order?” The shopkeeper winked at Meg. “Something suitable for a princess’s tea party?”

  “Please.” Meg squashed the guilt niggling at her belly. The earl could afford it. “And shall we find something equally fancy for you, Miss Diana?” Meg flipped the pages of the magazine, hoping to entice her.

  “No, thank you. I like the gowns we picked out. And the hats and gloves and stockings. But I love my new boots.” She extended her foot and swiveled her ankle, admiring a tiny forest green half-boot. I can’t wait to see how fast I can run.”

  “Let’s try to keep the mud off of them for a day or two at least,” Meg teased.

  “What about you, Miss Lacey?” Valerie fingered a swatch of deep rose silk on the counter as she gazed up at Meg. “Do you have a fancy dress in your armoire?”

  “Me?” Meg chuckled as she glanced down at her faded lilac gown. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Shouldn’t you have at least one?”

  Behind the counter, the shopkeeper coughed into her hand, as if to second Valerie’s suggestion.

  Meg tore her eyes away from the stylish designs gracing the pages of the magazine. She’d love nothing more than to own a gorgeous gown that was made especially for her, in a shimmery fabric that would sparkle in the candlelight as she twirled around a ballroom. How lovely would it feel to have silk skimming over her skin and swirling about her legs while she moved in time to the music?

  But it was a secret desire—one Meg barely admitted to herself.

  “Governesses have no need of ball gowns,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Neither do six year olds,” Diana pointed out. She grabbed the silk swatch from her sister and thrust it beneath Meg’s chin, as the dressmaker had done for the girls earlier. “This color looks pretty with your hair. See?”

  Meg hazarded a glance in the looking glass on the counter. The fabric was a delectable shade of pink. “Nonsense.”

  “It’s not,” Diana pouted. “You said every girl should have one fancy dress.”

  “I must agree,” Lord Castleton interjected, startling them all. He strode into the shop and joined them at the counter.

  Meg had almost—but not quite—forgotten he waited for them outside. He’d escorted them on all their errands that morning but had opted to remain in the coach while the girls ordered their dresses. He must have grown very weary of waiting if he’d deemed it necessary to enter this eminently feminine realm.

  Ironically, surrounded by snippets of lace, silks, and frippery, he looked larger, more masculine, than ever.

  Meg closed the fashion magazine and slid it aside. “I apologize for the delay, my lord. Our purchases are being wrapped, and we shall be ready momentarily.”

  “Do not think to change the subject, Miss Lacey,” he said smoothly. “Your charge here…”

  “Diana,” she provided.

  Inclining his head, he continued, “Diana makes an excellent point. You should have one nice gown.”

  “That is none of your concern,” Meg said evenly. She mustn’t lose her temper in front of the twins. “Besides, this shopping trip is for the girls.”

  “True. But it seems as though the girls wish for you to have a new dress.” He pointed at the square of rose silk that Diana held. “What’s that?”

  “A fabric sample.” Diana raised it to Meg’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t this look pretty on Miss Lacey?”

  Valerie sighed dreamily. “Divine.”

  Meg plucked the silk from Diana’s fingers and returned it to the counter. “Look, our packages are ready. Let’s ask the footman to load them onto the coach, shall we?” Grabbing one hand of each twin, she started toward the dress shop’s door.

  Only to be blocked by the earl. Or, more precisely, his torso. His very broad, very hard, and very immovable torso.

  “What is your rush, Miss Lacey? This outing was meant to be productive, but fun as well—was it not?”

  “Yes, of course.” Meg could feel the twins gazing up at her, anxious to see how she’d fare in a minor power struggle with Lord Castleton. “However, if you’ll recall, we have a rather full schedule.”

  His mouth curled in amusement. “Are you always so regimented … so rigid?”

  Meg bristled. Perhaps she was a bit … inflexible. But so much of life was outside of one’s control. She saw no harm in maintaining order where possible. “Some of us,” she ground out, “do not have the luxury of indulging every whim, nor the freedom to blow wherever the wind takes us.”

  “Like a dandelion seed?” Valerie interjected.

  Meg squeezed her little hand. “Exactly.”

  “I’m not suggesting you abandon your duties, steal away on a ship, and sail to the West Indies, for God’s sake. I’m merely encouraging you to take the same advice you gave the girls. Order one fancy gown to keep in your armoire.”

  “Why?” A pretty dress wouldn’t stop the ton from ridiculing her and her sisters. It wouldn’t transform her from a wallflower to a diamond of the first water. Why did he care?

  “Because even though you think it’s frivolous and extravagant, you might need it one day.” He leaned toward her slightly. “You might want it.”

  Lord help her, she did. But even more than she wanted a pretty gown for herself, she wanted one for each of her sisters. Maybe she should let the earl buy her a gown so that she could give it to them. It would be too short for Julie, but Beth could wear it, and perhaps add some lace to the bottom to make it work for Julie too.

  Her heart may have been tempted, but pride was in control. “While I appreciate your concern for my hypothetical needs and wants,” she said stiffly, “I can assure you that an elegant gown would serve me no purpose beyond collecting dust and attracting moths.”

  The earl seemed to consider this as he crossed his arms, his wide shoulders and muscular biceps testing the seams of his dark green, tailored jacket. His eyes, brown as melted chocolate, searched her face with an intensity th
at unsettled her. He didn’t understand why she defied him, couldn’t accept it. And something in his gaze told her that he would not be content until he knew all her secrets—the fears and desires she held so closely that not even her sisters were aware of them.

  A shiver ran the length of her spine, but she would not yield, nor would she apologize.

  An odd combination of puzzlement and hurt flashed across his face so quickly she might have imagined it. He pressed his lips together, then nodded—a silent admission of defeat.

  Why, then, did she not feel victorious?

  “I have no wish to contribute to the proliferation of dust and moths in your armoire,” he said with a wry smile. Turning his attention to the girls, he added, “Having survived the ordeal of dress shopping, I think we have earned a visit to the park. What do you say?”

  “Yes!” they exclaimed in unison.

  “I’ll let the footman know the packages are ready,” Meg offered.

  “No need.” Lord Castleton shot a charming grin at the shopkeeper as he scooped up their purchases and marched toward the shop door. The shopkeeper gripped the edge of the counter as though she feared she’d swoon, while another of the shop’s patrons fanned herself—vigorously.

  Meg wanted to roll her eyes. So the earl carried a few packages. That hardly qualified him for knighthood.

  “Are you coming, Miss Lacey?” he called over his shoulder. “If you’ve reconsidered and have decided to order a gown, we’ll be happy to wait.”

  “No,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m quite done with shopping.”

  * * *

  Meg would have liked to cling to her contrary mood for the remainder of the afternoon, but the glorious spring day made it nigh impossible. As she, Lord Castleton, and the girls strolled along the pebbled footpath in the dappled shade, a warm breeze eased some of the tightness from her shoulders. The earl steered their little group to a bench at the edge of the Serpentine and waved an arm at the surrounding lawn. “Ladies, how do you fancy this spot?”

  “Perfect!” Valerie said.

  Diana tossed a ball from hand to hand. “Now may we play?”

  “Of course,” Meg said with a smile. “Shall we have a game of catch?”

  “Yes!” the girls cried in unison.

  “Not I.” The earl lowered himself onto the bench, stretched out his long legs, and crossed them at the ankles.

  “My question was directed toward the girls, my lord.”

  “Was it?” he said, his mouth curling into a dangerous smile. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or insulted.”

  “Either way, we shall leave you to your own devices.” Meg led the twins away from the path where London’s elite strolled. Why should she care if the earl was embarrassed to be seen with her? If he were so shallow that he would shun a person for being a bit unfashionable, then she would not waste a single thought on him.

  “Stay away from the water, girls. I’ll not have you falling in. Come, here’s a nice open space.” Meg and the twins quickly formed a triangle and tossed the ball to one another. Each time the ball flew over their heads, Diana and Valerie squealed in delight and chased it with glee. Their laughter washed over Meg, soothing some of her hurt. They didn’t seem to mind that she dressed like a kitchen maid.

  If only she hadn’t goaded the earl in the library last night, they wouldn’t have had to endure his company today. But he’d provoked her, and she’d responded in kind, and he’d ultimately called her bluff, blast it all.

  “Miss Lacey.” Valerie pointed across the lawn. “I think the woman over there is waving to you.”

  Meg turned and raised a hand to her brow, shielding her eyes from the sun. Several yards away, Charlotte waved happily as a young girl skipped beside her.

  “Who are they?” Diana asked.

  “My friend Miss Winters and her charge, Abigail.”

  “I think she’s our age,” Valerie said.

  “I believe she is.” Meg cast a glance at the bench behind her where the earl had been joined by a pretty blond-haired woman in a stunning pink gown. The woman slowly twirled a yellow parasol trimmed in delicate lace while she giggled at something Lord Castleton had said. Her maid stood to the side of them, a discreet distance away. No, the earl would not mind if she introduced the twins to Charlotte and Abigail.

  He was too busy making his next conquest to notice. In fact, Meg doubted he’d notice if she and the girls toppled head-first into the Serpentine.

  “Meg!” Charlotte cried as she approached. “What a lovely surprise.” Pink-cheeked and breathless, she pulled Meg into a quick, fierce hug. “How are you faring—well, I hope?”

  She cast a meaningful glance over her shoulder toward the earl. “Quite.”

  Charlotte followed her gaze and nodded. “Well, then,” she said to the girls, smiling, “we must all become acquainted, for I’ve a feeling we’ll be spending many afternoons together.”

  After introductions, Meg handed the ball to Abigail. “Here, you may take my place in the game. You’ll keep up with these two far better than I.”

  While the girls played, Meg and Charlotte walked to the shade of a stately oak nearby. “It’s so wonderful to see you,” Charlotte said. “You look very well, indeed. Are you happy?”

  The question caught Meg off guard. She couldn’t very well tell her friend the truth—not after she’d been so kind as to arrange the interview. “I miss Beth and Julie, of course. But the twins are delightful.”

  Charlotte raised a brow. “And the earl?”

  “So far, we’ve managed to tolerate each other.”

  “What?” Charlotte’s forehead knitted. “He hasn’t done anything … untoward, I hope?”

  “No,” Meg reassured her. “It’s not that.” She frowned as the girls drifted across the lawn, farther away from her. “I’m going to bring them back here.” She started toward them, but Charlotte placed a hand on her arm.

  “They’re fine. Let them enjoy a bit of freedom.”

  Meg relaxed. Unlike her, Charlotte knew what she was doing. And the girls were in plain sight. “Tell me this gets easier.”

  “It does. Building trust takes time.”

  Meg nodded but was unsure whether her friend referred to the children or the earl.

  “You said that there was some history between you and Lord Castleton,” Charlotte said. “When did you two meet?”

  “Ages ago. We used to be neighbors.” Meg glanced back at the earl. He and his beautiful companion had begun strolling down the path by the lake. She might as well tell Charlotte the whole sordid tale. “I was barely fifteen when—”

  “Diana!” Valerie shouted. “Stop!” Several yards away, she stared helplessly as her twin sprinted across the park lawn, head down, her new boots churning up the grass.

  Meg ran to Valerie’s side. “Where’s she going?”

  “She told us to count how long it takes her to run to the other side of the road and back.”

  Meg’s heart plummeted. “That’s Rotten Row.” She lifted the front of her gown and took off, running after Diana. The little girl seemed oblivious to the phaeton careening down the path, pulled by horses galloping like their tails were aflame.

  “Diana!” she cried, shouldering her way past a man puffing on a pipe.

  But the girl kept moving, closer to the road and the out-of-control phaeton.

  Her slippers slapping the ground as she ran, Meg gasped for air, and called out again, louder. “Diana!”

  The little girl stumbled to a stop in the middle of the road. She spun around to face Meg, her blond curls blowing in the breeze. Smiling, she raised her hand to wave.

  Then froze.

  She stared wide-eyed at the huge horses barreling down the dirt path toward her.

  Never in her life had Meg felt so powerless. Not when her parents announced she’d marry a man she barely knew. Not when she’d been forced to leave the only home she’d ever known. Not ever.

  She had to reach Diana in time.


  Meg sprinted. She launched herself at Diana, knocking her off her feet. The girl tumbled into the grass, out of danger.

  But Meg’s chest slammed onto the dirt, knocking the breath from her lungs. With the horses almost upon her, she struggled to her feet, but her slipper caught on the hem of her dress, and she landed on her knee with a bone-jarring thud.

  The ground vibrated with the pounding of hooves. Dear God. She was about to be trampled.

  Chapter FIVE

  Her throat thick with dust, Meg couldn’t breathe, much less scream.

  She braced herself for the inevitable pain. She wasn’t ready to die, and yet—

  Whoosh. A blur of dark green dove in front of the horses’ hooves. Bam. A large body landed on top of her, forcing the air from her lungs. Strong hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her away from the hooves, the dust, and the danger.

  She rolled over the ground like a log, the man on top of her one moment, she on top of him the next. And when they finally jolted to a stop beside a row of prickly hedges, both of them clinging to each other and breathing hard, she was on top.

  Meg pressed her hands against the solid wall of his chest, and raised her head to look at her rescuer.

  Lord Castleton. Naturally.

  He wore a lopsided grin that, in spite of her brush with death, made her very aware that he was a man and she was a woman—lying atop him.

  “Are you quite well, Miss Lacey?” A polite inquiry on the face of it, but his arched brow and suggestive tone made it wholly improper.

  “I believe so,” she rasped. “But Diana—”

  “Is fine.” He pushed himself to sitting, holding her firmly on his lap. Concern darkened his brown eyes. “You, however, seem like you could use a glass of brandy.”

  Brandy? “Not at all. That is, I am concerned for Diana.” She swallowed and closed her eyes briefly, to erase the image of what might have been.

  She squashed the strong and sudden urge to cry. What was she doing, pretending to be a governess? Thanks to her incompetence, a little girl had almost died. “I must check on her.”