Page 14 of Tempting the Earl

The very next morning when Davina slipped quietly from this world.

And today, when she saw her greatest fear taking shape in the form of an elegant English earl.

She’d gotten too complacent, too comfortable and confident in the belief that no one would dare to intrude upon the private little world she created for Caillie and herself.

After Davina’s sad death, Angus had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with a grandchild born of disgrace and death. Those early years in his household had been torturous and dark. It had been all she could do to try to insulate Davina’s innocent bairn from the anger and resentment surrounding her. Ainsworth had half believed Angus was behaving out of grief over the loss of his only child and that, in time, he’d come around to accepting his granddaughter.

But he never did.

Realizing the bleak life Davina’s innocent daughter faced in such a household, Ainsworth had spent every moment of those early years planning for a different future. A future where Caillie would be free from the harsh judgement of others. A future filled with happiness and independence where they’d never again be reliant upon someone else’s acceptance and good grace. They would make it on their own. Or not at all.

Angus eventually agreed to an early release of the inheritance due to Ainsworth if it meant she’d take the misbegotten child with her when she left. Though Rosmuir was the only home Ainsworth had ever known, she’d walked away from it without a backward glance.

The future was her only concern.

Caillie’s future.

In the years it had sat empty, Faeglen had been minimally maintained by Mr. and Mrs. Norris. So, although the aged house had been in a sufficiently livable state, there had still been a great deal of work required to make it a home. Ainsworth had learned a lot in those early years. How to identify the various herbs which grew in the forests and vales nearby—as well as their many uses—and what she’d need to plant herself. That the value of a good workhorse far outweighed the need for a thoroughbred any day and that silks and satins had no use beyond ballrooms and drawing rooms and they were worth their weight in gold when traded for serviceable cotton, wool, and leather. How to bake just about anything a growing lass might desire and just how rewarding it could be to set a table with game you’d dressed yourself and vegetables grown by your own diligent attention.

Every choice she made, every hard-earned skill she’d mastered as she created a home for them at Faeglen was with one purpose. She might not have given birth to Caillie, but she was going to give her every ounce of love and support and protection Davina would have bestowed upon her if she’d lived. Ainsworth had vowed to instill the girl with the kind of confidence and independence that would never allow anything or anyone else to direct her choices or her happiness.

And in order to do so, Ainsworth had been forced to learn how to model those qualities as well. Having been raised a gentleman’s daughter, it hadn’t been easy. But it had been worth it to see the bairn she loved as her own grow into such an intelligent, compassionate, and willful lass.

Though there had been times Ainsworth doubted her ability to raise such a headstrong child all on her own, and she’d often worried she was doing everything all wrong, she could never allow herself the luxury of dwelling on such thoughts for long. She’d told herself so many times over the years that she’d done the best she could with what she had, the phrase had become a mantra.

And most days, she believed it. She was proud of the life she’d created and the lass she’d raised. Proud and fiercely protective.

But every now and then...doubt would creep in and she’d worry that she hadn’t done nearly enough to compensate for everything Caillie would never have. She’d question whether or not she’d truly managed to foster the qualities and skills the lass would need should the cruelty of life find its way to her door.

Ainsworth had done everything in her power to prevent that from happening.

But today, with the sudden appearance of an arrogant Englishman, she feared the safe and happy little life she’d built for Caillie was about to come crashing down about her ears.

Chapter Six

Three weeks and two days later, Ainsworth exited the earl’s luxurious carriage a step behind Caillie, who’d leapt to the ground without waiting for the footman to give her a hand. Tipping her head back, Ainsworth swept an intent glance over the gorgeous Grosvenor Square home belonging to the Earl of Wright. Built of faded red brick with white trim around every window and white columns framing the doorway, it was perfectly symmetrical in every way but for the climbing honeysuckle vines stretching up one side of the building.

It surprised her the earl hadn’t taken care of the wayward vines. Surely, their fragrant blooms would ruin the imposing effect his home was intended to project.

Bramble leapt from the carriage behind her and dashed to catch up to Caillie, who was already halfway up the front steps to the double doors painted a clean white with gleaming gold handles and scrolled knockers.

“This way, please, miss.” The footman nodded toward the steps.

Though her stomach did a quick, tumbling summersault, she started toward the house. She just made it to Caillie’s side when the front doors were opened without a knock, showing the tall, broad-shouldered form of a man in his middle to late years dressed all in black with silver-streaked black hair. The man’s expression was decidedly butlerish—aloof and apathetic with just the slightest hint of arrogance in the tilt of his square chin.

“Miss Morgan. Miss Claybourne.” The butler gave a deep nod to each of them in turn before breaking character with a quick flicker of surprise as he noted the unleashed collie. “Please come in.”

He stepped to the side with a wide gesture that was just a touch shy of dramatic, ushering them into a cavernous entry hall. The floors gleamed with polished marble, the walls were covered in pale green silk, and the ceiling was painted to resemble a starry midnight sky. A wide staircase—also marble, carpeted in a vivid blue that reminded Ainsworth of the earl’s eyes—curved up to the floor above in a graceful arc.

“Lord Wright is currently occupied with an important matter, but he wished to welcome you personally to London and his home. Allow me to show you to the parlor where you can await his arrival.”

The butler’s tone did not provide an opportunity for refusal or resistance.

Ainsworth pressed her lips together and gave Caillie a quick lift of her eyebrows when the girl glanced at her. After their travels, it would have been nice to settle in and freshen up, perhaps enjoy a wee snack, but it seemed they’d be awaiting the earl’s pleasure instead.

It didn’t surprise her in the least.

The parlor was almost quaint compared to the entryway, but was similarly outfitted in the finest materials, polished and plumped to perfection. Even the vase of white roses set on the table near the door didn’t dare show a hint of wilt or browning.

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