Page 40 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

‘Very well, if you like this one, we will take it.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Really? Are you sure?’

She was gazing at him with such warmth in her expression, such joy, he had the oddest idea that at any moment she might offer up those lovely lips for him to kiss. With every fibre of his being, for the briefest moment, he wished she would.

What on earth was he thinking? Had her obvious delight turned his brain to porridge? Had he actually let her manipulate him into buying a vehicle he doubted she could drive because he wanted to see her smile? No doubt they would be returning the damned thing before the season was over.

‘If you want to learn, it will require some early-morning lessons,’ he said with a warning in in voice. Perhaps the threat of having to arise early would dampen her enthusiasm.

She nodded sagely. ‘Yes. Less traffic would be an advantage, at least to start with.’

Now she decided to be sensible. He looked at the carriage again. This had all the makings of a disaster. ‘When can you have it ready, Birch?’

‘It will take but a week to paint it and for the varnish to harden. What about the team? The lady is selling those also. I could arrange a viewing, if you wish.’

He sighed and looked at his wife. ‘Would you wish to inspect the horses before I buy them?’

Her brows drew down in thought.

‘Or you can leave it to me,’ he prompted, somehow sure of her reaction.

Suspicion entered her gaze. ‘Of course I would like to see them before you purchase them.’

As he expected. The idea of another chance to spend time with his wife lifted his spirits. Surprised, he could not contain a grin. ‘Very well. I don’t have any time before Friday this week, Birch, but please advise the lady we are interested. Let me know, when you have the viewing organised.’

Birch bowed. ‘Very well, my lord.’

They walked back through the yard, their conversation silenced by the cacophony of sound. The coach with the unusual axle was no longer there. He really did want to take a closer look at it. Axles hadn’t changed since his father had been born, so far as he knew.

He led her through the gates and they climbed into the carriage.

Florence regarded him intently. ‘Are you sure you can teach me to drive that vehicle?’

‘Are you having second thoughts?’

‘Yes. I don’t know why I found it so compelling. But, thinking about it, I think I may have over-estimated my capabilities.’

It would be so easy to go back to Birch and tell him they had changed their minds. But Graydon could not help but recall the look of pure pleasure on her face at the idea of driving that carriage. ‘Nonsense. It is like any other carriage: two reins, two horses, a brake. You will get the hang of it in no time.’

‘The lady who had it before did not find it so easy.’

He gave her a smile of encouragement. ‘Perhaps. But then she did not have me for a teacher.’

For a moment, she stared at him, her eyes shadowy in the depths of the carriage, her pale skin translucent, as if touched by moonlight, her lips parted as if ready for his kiss. Imperceptibly his body leaned forward, his mouth wanting to taste.

Then she chuckled. ‘I gather you don’t believe in hiding your light under a bushel.’

The moment gone, he closed his eyes briefly and leaned back. Now was not the time to woo his wife. He was not in control. Uncle Robert has taught him to avoid impetuosity when it came to business. In his opinion, the same rule applied to women.

Once said or done, one could not recall words or deed. He had already bought a carriage without thinking it through. He was not about to show more weakness.

If he did, she would wrap him around her thumb in a trice.

Florence tried to remain still while Cole put the finishing touches to her hair. Tonight was the ultimate test of Florence’s acceptance into Society: Almack’s. Hopefully she could attend without attracting too much notice or making any terrible faux pas and leave after an hour. That was what Lady Blackdown had suggested.

‘All finished, my lady,’ Cole said, putting down the comb.

‘How do I look?’ As the days passed, Florence trusted Cole more and more. The woman did not hesitate to tell her if she did not think something suited her. And over time she had been easier in her mind at listening to her suggestions. They talked every day as she dressed. It was like having a real friend, a friend like Lilian.