Page 3 of An Earl Unmasked
Minerva attempted to adopt their mama’s stern stare but failed. “Trespassing is illegal. With the old earl gone, you are no longer welcome.”
Blazes—was her sister correct? Would the new Earl of Chestwick put an end to her visits? The library shelves of her family’s estate were abysmal. None of the gentlemen in her linage had even bothered to invest in the crumbling country estate, let alone finance the purchase of literary volumes. “But while the Earl of Chestwick remains at war…”
Minerva shook her head. “It is rumored that the earl was wounded and has retreated to his country estate to recover.” Her sister quickly glanced at their sleeping mama. “And, it is purported that Chestwick has posted warning signs of his intentions to prosecute those that dare to step foot upon his land.”
Diana was fully aware of the mutterings shared amongst the ton. Her keen hearing ensured she was apprised of the latest on-dit, including the earl’s newest moniker—the Beast of Chestwick. “Surely the earl wouldn’t call the magistrate if he found me in the library.”
“Sister, mine. The Earl of Chestwick is not some harmless scholar. He is not like his father. He is a man who has seen and caused the death of many men.”
“Yes, yes, yes. The man’s war strategies were professed by the War Office to be pure brilliance.” Eyes wide, Diana said, “Mayhap…he never ventures to the library. Mayhap…his injuries have him confined to his rooms. I shall simply employ stealth and take extra precautions to go unnoticed.”
“Unnoticed!” Minerva twisted to face her directly. “Diana Malbury. Promise me you will not visit Chestwick Hall uninvited.”
Impossible. She couldn’t make such a promise.
Hmm. She must carefully phrase her promise to her sister. “Minerva. I promise not to set foot upon the grounds of Chestwick Hall.”
Minerva’s eyes narrowed. After a few moments, her sister nodded.
Excellent. It was a rare occurrence for Diana to outwit her sister. She would keep her word—riding her mare to Chestwick Hall meant her horse’s hooves would touch the grounds, not her feet. Diana tucked her chin to her chest, allowing the hood of her cloak to slide lower. There was no way her clever sisters would spy the smirk she could not contain. Eyes closed. She evened out her breathing to feign sleep. No man nor beast would prevent her from seeking out a little piece of heaven this summer. She merely needed to devise a plan to ensure her visits to Chestwick Hall were kept secret both from her family and from the beast that guarded her oasis.
Chapter Two
Eyes squeezed tight,Randall waited for the ringing in his ears to cease and for the male battle cries to recommence.
Silence.
Beads of sweat rolled down his temple and seeped into the cut that slashed across his cheek. The burning sensation was an unwelcome reminder he still lived. He should have died along with his men. Instead, he’d been knocked unconscious, left for dead, and shipped home with a note from the War Office stating his services were no longer needed. Inheriting the title and running the estate wasnotthe future Randal had envisioned for himself.
Inhaling deeply, the musty, familiar scent of Chestwick Hall settled his nerves. He raised his hand to his face—his movements stalled as his fingers grazed over the rough gauze material that was wound tight about his head and covered one eye. Urgh. His hand dropped back to the counter plane. Damn, his wounds should be fully healed.
Peering through one eye, he caught a black blur scurrying about the room. “Who’s there?”
“It’s jus’ me yer lordship.” Tinged with strain, Cartwright—his bat man turned valet’s gravelly voice filtered through the buzzing in his aching head.
Exerting every ounce of energy he possessed, Randal pushed himself up to a seated position. The cool wooden headboard pressed into his back. “How are you getting on?”
“I’m finkin’ navigatin’ Chestwick Hall is a mite more dangerous than fightin’ alongside ye on the Continent, me lord.” Water splashed in a basin.
Randal cringed at the rhythmic grate of a blade being run along the strop. “You best put that razor away.” A shiver ran down his spine. Cartwright wasn’t right in the head if he believed he’d be running a sharp object over his still inflamed cheek.
“But ye look like a bear, me lord. Wot will Mrs. Humbleworth fink.”
Randal was never the housekeeper, Mrs. Humbleworth’s, favorite. She believed him cold and heartless. He had overheard her calling him such the summer before he left to fight on the Continent. Most of the staff had preferred Russel, his younger brother’s easy, friendly demeanor. Randal didn’t believe himself to be heartless; in fact, he loved rather deeply, merely not outwardly. He wasn’t cold; he simply preferred not to show his rioting emotions and refused to blubber and wax on about matters like his papa.
Randal rubbed his chin. He had grown rather fond of his beard. “How long exactly have I been incapacitated this time?”
“Jus’ a day and a half, me lord, and ye won’t believe the grumblings goin’ on this morn.” Cartwright brought over a small bowl with lathered soap, brush, and razor. “It’s time ye had a good shave.”
Home for over two months, he had regained the majority of his strength but still suffered bouts of prolonged sleep, which inevitably unsettled his batman. From years of on the battlefield with the man, Randal had learned to simply remain silent and let Cartwright ramble on.
Sunlight reflected off the sharp edge of the razor that Cartwright was waving about in the air as he continued, “The entire house staff are up in arms—bemoaning your orders to the game warden to shoot trespassers on sight. Mrs. Humbleworth was a bundle of nerves. She’s terrified sumthin’ will happen to some chit…wot was the lass’s name?” Cartwright absently stirred the soap in the bowl. “Melburn. No. Masterberry. No…”
“The Malbury girls?”
“That’s the ticket, me lord. Lady Diana Malbury.”
“Malbury Manor sits on the far side of the estate. It’s a fair distance from here.” Randal swung his stiff legs over the edge of the bed and gripped the mattress as the room began to spin. He shook his head and asked, “Diana?”
