Page 81 of My Wicked Earl
Tomorrow she would betroth herself to Lord Ridley.
18
“Oh look, Lord Kilmaire, I do believe that’s the ruby-throated thrush.” Lady Helen’s voice raised another annoying octave in her excitement at discovering her quarry.
Colin couldn’t tell the difference between a golden finch and the ass of his horse, but he resigned himself to his situation and followed the intrepid Lady Helen.
“Do keep up, Lord Kilmaire. It’s rather important that we don’t lose sight of him.” Clutching her notebook, Lady Helen neatly sideswiped a thorny bush.
God, he wished to be anywhere but there, traipsing through the woods with Lady Helen, who seemed intent upon convincing Colin to compromise her.
Lord and Lady Cottingham also seemed intent upon the ruination of their daughter at Colin’s hands. The pair trailed several paces behind Lady Helen and her suitor.
Lady Cottingham, overdressed for an outdoor excursion, greeted Colin warmly as the quartet set off. A straw bonnet sat atop her head was held in place by ribbon wound underneath her double chin. She giggled prettily as Colin took her hand, ignoring her husband’s frown.
Lord Cottingham grunted, the cigar clamped between his yellowed teeth wobbling as he did so. Ham-fisted and beefy, Lord Cottingham was not known for his skill at polite conversation. A brutishness emanated from the newly minted earl, as if he’d recently done something unsavory.
Colin did not doubt that he had.
“Watch for that stump, Lord Kilmaire. I don’t wish you to become injured.”
Were he a man bent on the seduction of a much too forward virgin whose dowry was the talk of London Colin may have responded to her saucy remark with one of his own.
Unfortunately for Lady Helen, he’d already been seduced by a beautiful virgin. One he still wanted.
He should have found a plausible excuse and begged off this intolerable excursion with the Cottinghams. Lady Helen and her dowry no longer interested him.
His interests lay in another direction.
At least the air was crisp and cool in the shadow of the trees. He could smell the earth and hear the scamper of small animals scattering before him. Taking a deep breath of the pine scented air, Colin saw his past behind every tree.
He’d stolen a kiss from one of the chambermaids underneath the weeping willow to his left, charming the girl with his Irish accent. Lord Cambourne had taught him, Nick and Cam to fish in the small stream trickling in the distance. All three of them had proudly held up their small catch to be admired by the Dowager, while she congratulated them on their skill before ordering a servant to take the fish to Cook for supper. Cam bragged over dinner that the entire household was eating due to his skill at fishing, while the Dowager smiled quietly into her napkin, and Lord Cambourne applauded each boy’s efforts.
Colin doubted the trout they ate that night was the same they’d fished out of the stream for their catch had more closely resembled minnows than trout.
Lady Helen entered a small clearing, but as Colin watched, her form changed into that of a small, chubby child, determined to follow her older brother and his friend, no matter how they tried to dissuade her.
MIRANDA STAREDup at Colin with eyes the color of leaves, proudly holding a frog out to him, a token of her childish affection. Then he saw her again as she’d been last night, the same hand reaching out to him as he walked away, leaving her in the garden. Colin had stopped before a hedgerow at the sound of her weeping, each sob tearing at his soul, but his stubborn pride held him back from her. She’d accused him of being unable to love. And he was too afraid to tell her, even after he’d taken her virginity. He’d left his grandmother’s ring for her but didn’t have the courage to place it on her finger himself. Was that why she’d written the letter? To force a declaration from him?
Christ. I never even fought for her.
“Over here, Lord Kilmaire. I think I’ve run him to ground. Little devil.” Lady Helen turned and waved a gloved hand at her parents who paused on the path, pretending to examine a profusion of wild violets.
Colin had the distinct impression it washe, and not the ruby throated thrush, being run to ground.
“I understand your seat, Runshaw Park is in a rather wild area of England. I’ve even heard there are wolves to be found in the surrounding woods.” Lady Helen took a reluctant stab at conversation.
“A few, none so much as to be a problem to the livestock. But, you are correct, Runshaw Park is a bit isolated. The distance and the demands of my estate are such I don’t often visit London.” He could think of nothing but speaking to Miranda, a need that was suddenly urgent after so many years.
Lady Helen climbed over a rotten log. “The distance?” Her nose scrunched in a most unbecoming manner as she contemplated how in the world, she could avoid Runshaw Park.
“Three days ride. Longer if you are in a carriage.”
That tidbit did not sit well with Lady Helen. “I’ve no love of the country, Lord Kilmaire. I grew up hearing the sounds of crickets and the cows as they moved around the pasture. Bugs everywhere. Dust on every bit of clothing. And, you’ll forgive me for saying, the smell of dung.”
Apparently, Lady Helen hadn’t smelled the Thames recently. The smell of cow dung would have been an improvement.
“I much prefer London to the country..”
