Page 23 of 10 Things I Hate About the Earl

“Lord Haversham, miss.” Parker closed the door partially.

He would’ve laid odds the man had remained nearby. Ainsley’s servants were well-trained, well-paid, and loyal to a fault.

Miss Locke turned, and his heart skipped a beat. Lit from behind by the great window, she looked like an angel in white muslin, sprinkled with tiny blue flowers. Her hair, touched by the sunlight, shone like copper fire. She came toward him, and with each step, his heart pounded harder—from fear or desire, he’d best find out, and soon.

“Lord Haversham, how nice of you to call.” Her voice, though carefully neutral, still carried a tinge of her usual edge.

That was comforting, somehow, perhaps because of its familiarity, and he relaxed into his own accustomed role. “Miss Locke,” he said, bowing, “so good to see you once more.” His mouth dried, and he glanced around the room. Fool. One could not take spirits before a lady, but he would’ve given his soul for one mouthful of good brandy.

“Will you have a seat?” She indicated an elegant Queen Anne chair across from her.

He nodded, dropping onto it gratefully, worn out by mere introductions. He smoothed his coat, picked at the weave in his brown trousers, anything other than look at Miss Locke. How the deuce did someone go about courting a woman anyway? He’d danced and dined with scores of ladies, but nothing more. His amorous adventures had been restricted to forays into the more popular brothels. So how did one woo a respectable lady?

“How is your sister today?” Miss Locke began. “Did she enjoy the ball last evening?”

“I believe she did enjoy it, as did I.” He risked a glance at her.

Miss Locke stared directly at him, her mouth pinched into a bow. “I am sure she would’ve enjoyed it even more had she been allowed to stand up in a waltz.”

The woman was like a dog with a bone. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her the truth…but perhaps the devil in Miss Locke might enjoy trying to persuade him to allow his sister leave to dance the scandalous waltz. An odd manner of courtship, perhaps, but it would be lively, he suspected.

Affecting his best stern countenance, he put up a hand. “Really, Miss Locke, I believe I know what is best for my sister.”

“As you have never been a woman who had to refuse partners for a dance, I might beg to differ. I saw Lady Letitia turn down two gentlemen last night alone.” She bit her lip, as though restraining her tongue. “I beg of you, Lord Haversham, allow your sister to waltz. I am certain she will be the happier for it.”

“Would you have been happier had we danced a waltz last evening instead?” Marcus stared into the blue eyes across from him, which suddenly appeared uncomfortable. They darted all around, avoiding him at any cost. “Did you prefer our waltz the night before last, Miss Locke?”

“Of…of course not, or, no, yes, I did. I did enjoy our waltz, Lord Haversham. You are an excellent dancer.” The woman might’ve been eating a lemon or something that left a bad taste in her mouth, like curdled milk. “As would your sister be, were she able to do so.”

He restrained a chuckle. “Perhaps you could convince me while we ride in the park? I have my curricle outside.” Would she consent to being seen with him alone in public? Would the bait of being able to change his mind about Letitia prove enticing enough?

She narrowed her eyes, and Marcus braced for the worst. He’d seen that gleam before. It had never boded well for him. “Why yes, my lord. That would be quite a challenging outing, wouldn’t it?”

“And you enjoy a challenge, Miss Locke?”

“I do indeed, my lord.” She rose, never taking her gaze from his face.

Marcus shot up and out of his seat. Lord, what had he just unleashed on himself?

“I’ll be but a moment getting my Spencer.” She glided out of the room, deliberately taking her time.

Marcus didn’t mind in the least. Her slow exit gave him ample opportunity to appreciate the straight back and hint of curves revealed by the undulating white gown. Had the sun been in front of her, what sights might that gauzy gown have revealed? He gulped, amazed at the sudden response in his breeches. Heavens, was he truly desirous of Miss Katherine Locke?

That thought had crossed his mind before. And reappeared rather quickly now, as well. Of course, she was a beautiful woman. If only she could’ve kept her tongue in check, she’d have been snatched up her first Season. Perhaps Fate had had a hand in this all along.

“Are you coming, Lord Haversham?” she called from the foyer. “I assume you wish to take me for this ride in your curricle rather than have me drive it myself.” The underlying glee in that last statement sent him hurrying from the morning room. He wouldn’t put it past her to try to take the ribbons.

“Of course not, Miss Locke.” He was brought up short by the stunning sight of Kate Locke standing in a dark blue Spencer with matching hat that made her eyes change to the color of the sky. Breathtaking, to be sure.

He offered his arm, and they walked sedately if rather awkwardly out to his waiting curricle. After handing her in, he hopped up beside her and took the ribbons. A sly glance at her made her laugh.

“Do not worry, my lord. I promise I shall not seize the reins unless you give me good cause.” Her cheeks had pinked with her laughter. The color became her. She should laugh more often. Perhaps he could remedy that, as well.

He turned the matched chestnuts toward Hyde Park. They were earlier than the most fashionable crowd, but he hadn’t wanted to be obvious about the courtship yet. “We have a grand afternoon for our drive, I see.” After a cloudy morning, the weather had turned brilliant.

“Lord Haversham,” she said, training a sour gaze on him, “do you think me a simpleton?”

Her words took him by surprise, but he answered back, rapid fire. “I might think many things of you, Miss Locke, but being a simpleton is not one of them.” He turned the rig into the park. “Why do you ask?”