Page 29 of Earl's Well That Ends Well (The Way to a Lord's Heart 5)

“I’ll see about a day out,” said Tom. He rose. “Should be all right.” He walked away, leaving the two of them at the table.

“We interrupted your work,” said Lord Macklin.

Irrationally, Teresa found his consideration annoying. Were they going to ignore what she’d said at the theater yesterday? Was this some new way to toy with her? Lord Macklin was disrupting her carefully ordered life. This man turned things to a muddle whenever he was near, and she hated that. They must be clear, particularly now that they were to be ateam. “At the theater yesterday, I spoke up as a joke,” she blurted out.

He looked inquiring. Or disappointed? Surely not that.

“It meant nothing,” she added. “A silly jest.”

“The humor being…” He let his sentence trail off to encourage explanation.

“Because the idea is so ridiculous,” said Teresa.

“The idea?” His blue-gray eyes glinted with…something infuriating. Was it amusement? Or worse? How was anyone to say?

Teresa grew conscious of a wish to box his ears. “It was merely a matter of convenience,” she added as carelessly as she could manage. “In case you acted as escort on other visits. So that you can come and go backstage without…irritation.”

“Ah. Irritation.”

“Must you keep repeating my words? You might as well be a parrot!”

“I beg your pardon. Parrots can be annoying, can’t they?”

Were they actually talking about parrots?

“It was very kind of you to think of my…potential unease,” he added.

A spate of words died on her lips. Teresa felt as if she’d stepped down and found a stair missing, leaving her teetering in the dark. Was that all? Was there to be no taunt or innuendo?

The earl smiled at her. The expression was warm and alluring. Remembering the anger that had shaken her at the theater, Teresa realized that she hadn’t been driven by anything like kindness yesterday. Some inner part of her had leapt like a tiger on Nancy’s query. To save the dancers from another exploitation, she told herself again. But honesty forced her to acknowledge that her motives had been more complicated. She hadn’t wanted to see him with Nancy or any of the others—for her own sake as much as theirs. She hadn’t wanted him to be like the other aristocratic men she’d known. He had to be; earls were bred so from infancy. But this one seemed so different.

She sprang up. He rose politely. Teresa started away, then turned back. He stood there beside the table, a few feet away. He didn’t rake her body with his eyes or mock her with knowing smiles. She’d been prepared to stave off sly comments for as long as necessary, but none had come.

“Until tomorrow then,” he said. He offered a small bow and walked away, heading for the door.

She watched him go. She couldn’t help it. She had better admit straight out that she was attracted to Lord Macklin, Teresa thought, in order to guard against the feeling. The earl seemed to possess so much that one would want in a man, and that made him a very cunning trap. She’d known men who were soft-spoken, beguiling—until they got what they wanted. That was the way it went. Once the prize was won, they flaunted their victory, their dominance. They didn’t care how this hurt. Hadn’t she seen it often enough to learn? Men with power over others exerted it. They simply did. One’s only defense was not to be under their control.

A picture flashed through Teresa’s mind—the Earl of Macklin standing in her tiny, bare home, avoiding any comment on its poverty, perhaps complimenting her painting to ingratiate himself. He wouldn’t mock. He was too charming, too skilled for that. Perhaps he was even too kind, actually. But hot humiliation washed over her nonetheless. She’d lost so much that he possessed—position, wealth, the respect of society. They had no real common ground.

She did, however, have her hard-won independence. Nothing would take it from her, certainly not this silly idea of ateam. She would join Tom in using the earl’s resources and influence to find the missing dancers and do whatever they could for them, and then she would have nothing more to do with Macklin. Which was not a melancholy idea, she thought as she went to pick up her paintbrush again. Not in the least.

* * *

Arthur walked toward his London home with a jaunty step. He wondered if Tom realized what a great favor he’d done him with this notion of a team. Probably not. The lad was concentrated on finding the missing dancers. He was always ready to spring to the aid of friends.

But Arthur felt as if he’d won a victory with the señora’s agreement to the drive. From the expression on her face, he’d feared a refusal. But she’d consented. He’d wanted to find a way to become better acquainted with her, and he now had it. There would be any number of occasions when they must meet and plan or discuss their progress. There was no need to rush back and make certain. She’d promised. He knew somehow that she was a woman of her word.

When the señora had “claimed” him at the theater, Arthur had experienced a thrill more intense than anything he’d felt in years. He’d wanted to pull her into his arms and carry her off then and there. Except—she’d looked angry, furious really, as she spoke. It had obviously been no time for tender declarations.

He still didn’t see any reason for her to be angry withhim. Their evening had gone smoothly. He was sure he hadn’t offended her. But she’d been irate, and he knew as well as he knew anything that she was not a person to be pushed.

It had to be the plight of the missing opera dancers, he decided. The possibilities were enough to make anyone angry. He was glad to aid them, particularly in the company of the lovely señora. He turned his mind to ways of making their outing to Richmond a pleasure as well as a task.

She and Tom met his carriage at the workshop early the next morning. Señora Alvarez hadn’t wanted it to call at her house, which Arthur understood. Tom took the rearward-facing seat for the drive of more than ten miles, leaving Arthur and the señora side by side on the other. Her silken skirts frothed about his feet.

“What do you plan?” she asked as they set off.

“We will stop at any likely point and ask about Maria and her escort,” Arthur replied. “Hoping that someone can describe the man so that we can look for him.”

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