Page 82 of My Wicked Earl
Her declaration didn’t surprise him in the least.
She paused and pointed into the branches of the enormous oak looming before them. “Pity there are no footholds on this tree.” She walked around the trunk, studying the gnarled bark with a look of concentration on her pretty face. Pouting, she put a hand up to her forehead and looked up into the limbs of the oak.
How could I have left her weeping in the gardens?
“There he is, Lord Kilmaire! My goodness, do you see him? He’s beautiful.” Lady Helen cried in excitement, rapture lighting her face. “Do you see him? He’s just there.” She pointed upward into the branches.
Colin looked up to spy a tiny bird no bigger than Colin’s fist. A flash of red showed on the bird’s breast, but otherwise didn’t look remotely interesting. Probably only a robin. He spared a glance at Lady Helen staring up at the ruby-throated thrush. Is this where his obstinance would bring him? Boring days spent wandering the woods with his pretty, wealthy,uninterestingwife? Endless dinners sitting opposite the length of a long table with Lady Helen, eating in silence? Spending his wife’s dowry to repair Runshaw Park while his countess flitted around London taking lovers?
He would doubt the paternity of every child she bore.
But the letter, his mind shouted.If Miranda loved you why did she return the ring?
Miranda would marry Ridley and produce a tribe of children who dressed in a garish manner and used too much pomade. He would have to see her at various family gatherings, or perhaps at the opera, with Ridley’s arm around her waist. He would live with the knowledge that she shared another man’s bed. He would drink whiskey in the dark halls of Runshaw Park and dream of her, with only his stubborn pride to keep him company and not Miranda. Would he be grateful then, that he’d not put the past aside?
Colin couldn’t breathe for a moment. The thought of spending the remainder of his life, alone without the sun, was not in the least appealing.Would I rather be wise or right?
The ruby-throated thrush flew off, disappearing into the canopy overhead.
“Come, we must follow.” Lady Helen posed, her breasts thrusting forward. The bonnet she wore slid gracefully from her head to expose the perfect oval of her face. Cheeks pink from her exertions, with the sunlight streaming through the trees upon her golden hair, she remained still for a moment so that Colin could appreciate her lovely form.
He had to admit, Lady Helen painted a pretty picture. But her posturing was wasted on him.
Taking hold of her skirts in both hands, she stepped over a large rock in the path, giving Colin a view of her ankles, clad in half-boots.
“Oh no,” she batted her eyes and kept her skirts raised, “I’ve dropped my sketch book. Would you mind fetching it for me, Lord Kilmaire?”
Stooping, Colin bent to pick up the notebook as she bid, wondering that the girl hadn’t been ruined many times over. Her every action spoke of practiced flirtation and artifice. Most men would respond willingly to the temptation she offered. Just not Colin.
For the love of God, he ruined Miranda and the least she expected was that he speak to her father. Instead, he’d only left a note with a promise and a ring.
“Lord Kilmaire, I don’t mean to be rude, but is your attention on our excursion? I feel certain it is not,” Lady Helen said, her lips pursed.
“My apologies, Lady Helen.”Where were Lord and Lady Cottingham?“I think we should wait for your parents.”
“Whatever for?” The blue of her eyes shone with feminine calculation.
Apparently, his assumption earlier was correct. The small bird flitting about the thicket before them was not the only thing Lady Helen stalked this morning. Colin had the urge to follow the creature to safety.
“We can sit here and watch the ruby-throated thrush.” Lady Helen spun about and carefully sat herself on a nearby tree stump, arranging her skirts as if she sat on a throne. She looked up at him expectantly.
“May I have my notebook, Colin?”
The use of his given name set off warning bells. Any woman of good breeding knew better than to call a gentleman by his Christian name on such short acquaintance. Lady Cottingham and her husband were much farther down the path than Colin originally thought. In fact, all he could see of Lady Cottingham was a large flash of color among the trees.
Maintaining a proper distance, Colin held out the slim leather notebook to Lady Helen.
A frown crossed her pretty face, crinkling her brow in an unappealing way, before her features smoothed. A winning smile crossed her lips.
“Come, sit next to me, Colin.” Her fingertips brushed his as she took the notebook from him.
Ignoring her invitation, Colin made his way to a large tree, leaning back against the pitted trunk. It was rapidly becoming apparent that the Cottinghams grew impatient waiting for Colin’s proposal. Surely it could not be only that the girl was headed for a scandal? He eyed her waist.
“You are so far away,” Lady Helen pouted, “that I shall have to shout at you to make myself heard.”
Lord and Lady Cottingham finally rounded a bend in the path and came into view.
At the sight of Colin, a good distance from their daughter, defeat clouded the faces of Lady Helen’s parents. Lady Cottingham shook her head in resignation and looked as if she might weep.
