Page 4 of Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 2)

Nash, the Earl of Clarendon, stared stupidly at the woman who raced up to him, holding her side and panting. “I’m so sorry, my lord. Are you well?”

“Lady Arabella?” With his legs stretched out, he shook his head, trying to clear it, and stared up at her. He remembered her from a few social events they’d attended together. If his memory was correct, she was a friend of his sister, Eugenia, Marchioness of Devon.

“Yes. Oh my goodness, Lord Clarendon. I am so very sorry.” Her face was flushed, her bonnet askew, her eyes—for lack of a better word—wild. That look, however, did not detract from the girl’s visage. Lady Arabella was, indeed, a very attractive young lady. Not that this was the time to dwell on such a thing.

He placed his hand on the soft, muddy ground and jumped up. The back of his breeches clung to him in such a way that he knew they were mud filled. As was his glove, he noticed with chagrin. “What happened?”

“My cat.” She continued to pant and barely got the words out.

“Your cat?”

“Yes. She got out of my basket.” She pointed behind her to where a woman, obviously a maid, hurried up, carrying a basket with a blanket draped over it. Lady Arabella looked behind him, up at the branches of the tree. “Oh dear. She’s climbed up, and now she can’t come down.”

Just as she uttered the words, a loud howl came from above. The devil take it, was the animal now going to drop on his head?

Lady Arabella glanced frantically from the top of the tree to him. “My lord, can I ask a favor of you?”

Still trying to process everything that had just happened, he looked at her for a minute before answering. “A favor?”

“Yes, please. Can you climb the tree and rescue my cat?” She chewed her lower lip, which would have appealed to him if he wasn’t standing in wet, muddy breeches, with an animal yowling over his head.

“Climb the tree?” Surely the woman was daft. This was Hyde Park, for heaven’s sake, not his country estate where he’d done such things as a lad. “I am sorry, my lady, but I fear I am not dressed for tree climbing. Animals are most adept at rescuing themselves.”

She waved at the animal howling above his head. “What sort of a gentleman are you? You would walk off and leave that poor animal in distress?” Her voice rose on the last few words.

Nash glanced around at the two couples who strolled nearby, who were watching the exchange with a bit too much interest and humor. The last thing he wanted was to draw more attention to himself.

“Please?” Apparently, she felt a change of tactics would work better. Her irresistible hazel eyes filled with tears, and her plump lower lip quivered. Bloody, bloody hell. The one thing he could not countenance was a woman’s tears. He ran his hand down his face before he remembered his glove was muddy.

She winced.

“I just smeared mud all over my face, did I not?”

She nodded and continued to chew her lip. At least she had the good sense not to laugh, as he was sure she was wont to do. The cat continued to screech, and to his horror, a crowd was gathering. “Very well.” He stripped off the muddy gloves, then his coat. The sooner he got the blasted animal out of the tree and back into its basket, the sooner he could go home, have a bath, and down a very large glass of brandy.

“Oh, thank you so much.” She stood, wringing her hands.

“Yes, well. Let’s have at it.” He grabbed a low-lying branch above his head and swung himself up. He balanced on the branch and reached, but was not high enough to grab the irritating cat.

“Miss Aphrodite, come down, please. Let this nice gentleman help you.”

Nash looked down, his eyes wide. “Miss Aphrodite?”

“Yes. That’s her n

ame.”

Miss Aphrodite.

“If you call her by her name she might warm up to you and come down,” she shouted up at him.

He was already making a spectacle of himself in the tree, his arse covered in mud, and dried, caked dirt on his face. He would damn well not call the animal by that ridiculous moniker. “Come here, kitty.”

That sounded no better. The cat wailed and looked down at him. He grabbed another branch and moved higher. Reaching out, he almost had her when she hissed and leaped right at him, her nails clinging to his waistcoat. “Ouch!”

He grabbed the animal by its back fur just as a loud sneeze erupted from his nose. Nash wrapped his arm around the branch next to him as he sneezed several more times.

“Oh my lord. Are you allergic to cats?”