Page 19 of The Beastly Earl

“I’m done.” At his reply, the boy moved toward the table. Asadi glanced down at Ewan’s tray then turned to him.

“You have eaten little, Argaty sahib.”

“Just take the goddamn tray, Asadi,” he snarled.

He glared at the boy who remained unfazed by his anger. With a shrug that mimicked McCallum’s general reaction to Ewan’s ill-tempered moods, the Sudanese boy placed everything on the tray and headed toward the door. As the Asadi pulled it shut behind him, Ewan heard the distinct sound of a female voice just as the lock mechanism clicked. The soft lilt of it confirmed it wasn’t his mother or his aunt.

“Fuck, not even the saints were persecuted like this,” he muttered.

Certain Asadi would usher the woman out of his East Wing sanctuary, Ewan moved toward the shelves of books in the far corner of the room. He’d just pulled a book off the shelf when he heard the sound of the door opening.

“I take it you sent the woman on her way, Asadi.”

“Actually, he did not, my lord.” The soft, feminine voice did not hide the steely note layered beneath it. “Please don’t be angry with the boy. I insisted on speaking with you and refused to take no for an answer.”

Ewan stiffened in angry surprise, but didn’t turn around. The woman had invaded his private refuge, and he didn’t know whether to make her terrified of him or simply ignore her presence. He chose to act as if he were alone in the room. A womanly noise of frustration traveled through the air to his ear, and Ewan released a harsh sigh.

“Speak, Mrs. Morehouse. As you can see, I’m busy.”

“I understand I have you to thank for saving my life, and I wanted to express my gratitude.”

“I don’t need your gratitude.”

“I disagree. Mr. McCallum tells me you rode out into the storm to find me and brought me back to Argaty then served…as my nursemaid. I’m in your debt, my lord.”

The small catch in Louisa Morehouse’s voice made him realize she was most likely remembering how she’d awakened to find herself without clothes. A small devil in him made his mouth tip upward slightly. No doubt the woman wouldn’t be happy to learn how much he’d enjoyed seeing her beautiful, naked curves. Perhaps embarrassing her was the best way to rid himself of the woman. His mouth curved upward a bit more.

“You aren’t in my debt. I was paid quite handsomely when I undressed you.”

The sound of a sharply inhaled breath made his mouth curve upward even more. Now the woman would surely leave him to his solitude. He silenced the protests in the far reaches of his brain. When he didn’t hear her walking out of the room, he closed his eyes in exasperation.

“You’ve said your piece, Mrs. Morehouse. Now if you don’t mind, I trust you can find the door.”

The silence stretched out for a long moment as he waited. When he didn’t hear the sound of the door opening and closing, his jaw hardened with anger. Louisa Morehouse was quickly becoming one of his least favorite people. Refusing to acknowledge that she hadn’t left the room, Ewan turned the page of the book he held in his artificial hand.

Silently, he perused the text waiting for the woman to leave him alone in his quiet solitude. A soft tapping suddenly penetrated the air, and he cocked his head as he tried to identify the sound. It took only a brief moment to associate the noise with that of a woman's shoe repeatedly abusing the floor in irritation. Other than the tilt of his head, Ewan didn’t react to the sound. Instead, he continued to stare down at a page of words that had suddenly become nothing more than an incoherent mix of letters.

“It wasn’t just my desire to express my appreciation for you saving my life, my lord,” Louisa said in a crisp tone. “I wanted to speak with you about your son as well.”

The mention of the boy caused Ewan to frown in puzzlement while he ignored the fact that he’d thought of her as Louisa and not Mrs. Morehouse. The only time he’d been aware Ross had been in the woman’s company was when she’d been ill. He’d given the lad strict instructions to not bother her again. The thought that the boy had disobeyed him angered Ewan.

“If Ross has been troubling you, inform McCallum about it, and he’ll see to it the boy won’t trouble you anymore.”

“Your son hasn’t been any trouble at all. In fact, I find him far too quiet and withdrawn for a boy his age.”

Despite the firm rejection of Ross being a nuisance, he heard the motherly note of concern in her voice. It was a gentle empathy his mother had never expressed when he’d been a boy, and he’d certainly never heard the dowager countess speak of Ross in such a manner. His aunt and Mrs. Selkirk had always been the ones to offer Ewan motherly concern when he’d been a boy, and he was certain the two women did the same for Ross.

Ewan frowned as he absorbed Louisa’s description of the child. Now that it had been pointed out to him, it was an accurate portrayal of the boy. Perhaps he’d been wrong to keep Ross here. The boy might have been better off at school. A sudden flashback to his days at Charterhouse produced a tactile sensation of antipathy. Not even on Ross would he inflict such a punishment.

“The boy is not a concern of yours…Mrs. Morehouse.” The muscles in his face tugged sharply at an empty eye socket as he barely managed to avoid addressing her as Louisa.

“Perhaps not, but I wish to make it my concern since you seem to be oblivious to the fact that the child needs a governess.”

Startled by her condemnation, Ewan almost turned to face her before he stopped himself. Louisa Morehouse was becoming an irritating thorn in his side. He turned another page in the book ensuring the sound was as audible as possible.

“And what makes you an expert on what the child needs or doesn’t need?”

“If you’d spend time with him, you wouldn’t have to answer that question,” Louisa snapped.