Page 55 of Brave New Earl (The Way to a Lord's Heart 1)

“Happy to be of service, Mr. Clayton. I must get on now and be rid of this.” She held the odiferous bag well away from her person.

Clayton watched her go. If her idea proved useful, he’d owe her a favor, in the intangible currency of belowstairs. He didn’t mind. Indeed, he was pleased to add her to his long roster of connections in the households of Lord Macklin’s far-flung family.

• • •

Geoffrey’s first expedition on Fergus was allowed that day, due to his incessant requests and because he’d taken to riding as if horseback was his natural element. The boy, wildly excited, had argued for going back to the gorge, but his father had ordered a much shorter circuit around the neighborhood.

The party set off at midmorning to make a turn about the nearby lanes. Geoffrey took the lead with Tom at his side on Molly; the others followed, keeping to the pace of his pony.

“That boy might be half centaur,” said Lord Macklin as they watched Geoffrey chatter to Tom as he rode.

“He seems bound to be a fine rider,” their host agreed.

Jean, silent in her crimson riding habit, tried to keep her mind off kisses. Despite the turmoil this man’s touch had roused, the thrill of them came back to her all too often, as they were doing right now when she and Lord Furness rode side by side. She gave him a sidelong glance. She wanted more, even as she shied away from the tumultuous results. And so she was frozen, suspended between desire and apprehension. “When will you hire a new nanny for Geoffrey?” she asked. The question dropped into the conversation like a stone tossed into a still pond. “Lily is a sweet girl, but he doesn’t listen to her.”

“Would he to anyone?”

“He would if it was my old nurse,” said Lord Macklin. “She was born to be a master sergeant, I think. She had a certain tone of voice that made any child within range spring to attention and obey. Even if they’d never met her before.”

“I don’t suppose she’s available,” joked his nephew.

The older man smiled. “Long gone, I’m afraid.”

“There are agencies in London, I believe,” said Jean. Again, she sounded stilted. She tried to soften her tone. “Perhaps in Bristol as well?”

“I could write to my daughter,” said the earl. “She might know of someone.”

Lord Furness accepted both ideas with a nod. “We need just the right sort of person. Someone Geoffrey can like and respect.”

How his tone had changed since she arrived, Jean thought. That was good. She’d accomplished that much.

“He couldn’t go to school in his present state,” their host added. “He needs a bit of…polish first. Fortunately, there’s time.”

“Polish,” echoed Lord Macklin, his smile widening. “A curious way of putting it. A touch of town bronze for the nursery set?”

“Smoothing a few rough edges,” his nephew answered.

Geoffrey shouted “Heigh-ho!” and kicked Fergus’s sides. The amiable animal responded with a quick trot and then, with more urging, a gallop. The others hastened to catch up, their larger mounts well able to close the gap. Geoffrey leaned over his pony’s neck, eyes shining, whooping with delight, perfectly in control even at speed. They pounded over the turf like the field at Newmarket in the heat of a race, the adults holding back so that Geoffrey could lead.

Like a wave of marauders, they rounded a small copse and came face-to-face with another riding party traveling at a far more sedate pace.

Disaster loomed. Collision seemed inevitable. With an eye on her companions, Jean managed to swerve to the left. Tom came with her. The two men went right, and they flowed around the new group in two surging streams. Geoffrey, on the other hand, pulled Fergus to a halt right under the new horses’ noses. One of them shied; another tossed his head and sidled. The strangers struggled to maintain control.

It took a few minutes for everyone to get sorted out. They backed and milled and finally gathered in one larger group next to the copse.

They’d nearly run down two gentlemen and a young lady, Jean saw. She judged that they were neighboring gentry, a father and his offspring, most likely. All three had pale hair and slender frames, with blue eyes and the easy seats of people at home on horseback. The woman wore a habit far more fashionable than Jean’s.

“Furness?” said the older man. He seemed surprised.

“Hello, Wandrell. How are you?”

“Very well. Good to see you out in company.”

Lord Furness hunched a shoulder. “Allow me to introduce my uncle Macklin and Miss Jean Saunders, who are visiting, as well as my son, Geoffrey, of course.”

Geoffrey received curious looks.

“My nearest neighbors,” Lord Furness continued. “Mr. Theodore Wandrell, his son, Teddy, and his daughter, Anna.”

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