Page 39 of Tempting the Earl

Ainsworth smiled. “Aye. I love you, lass.”

“I love you, too, Worthy.”

They embraced again then Caillie—the hoyden—called out, “You can all come back now.”

Though it was rather obvious the ladies had overheard everything from beyond the curtains by the subtle dabs at their eyes they tried to conceal, Ainsworth was grateful for their consideration in pretending otherwise. Grand emotional displays were not something she was very comfortable with...unless it involved her temper, of course.

Madame returned as well and immediately went about finishing the plans for Mrs. Bentley’s future wardrobe. Then she returned to Ainsworth.

“Have you decided on a gown, Miss Morgan?”

Pointing to the design she hoped would be most versatile for future use, Ainsworth replied, “This one, I think.”

“Hmm.” Madame studied the design. “Yes, darling, I can see it. In a vivid shade of green perhaps. No. A dark, shimmering hyacinth silk. It’ll be stunningly dramatic.”

“I’m not sure dramatic is the direction I wish to go.”

“Come now, Miss Morgan,” the modiste admonished with a frown. “You are not so young, yes? So, you are not bound by the rules that keep young ladies swathed in pastels and a hundred shades of white. You can be bold, Miss Morgan.”

“I’m quite bold, I assure you.”

“Then let your gown match your spirit, darling.”

“Oh, it sounds lovely,” Lily exclaimed. “You must go with the hyacinth.”

“Aye, Worthy. You must. I’ll die if you dinnae do the hyacinth.”

Laughing at Caillie’s effusive appeal, Ainsworth shook her head. “Verra well, I surrender.”

“Of course,” Madame noted with a confident wink. As she made notes regarding the design and material, she added quietly for Ainsworth alone, “His Lordship is a handsome man, is he not? So reserved and polite. It makes a woman wonder what he’s like when the lights go out.” She sighed heavily.

Frowning, Ainsworth replied, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course, darling,” the dressmaker conceded again as she turned away with a swing of her hips.

Chapter Thirteen

A familiar warmth surrounded her as soon as Ainsworth stepped into the unlit room. Though far grander than the one at Faeglen, the earl’s kitchen possessed all the necessary elements characteristic to kitchens everywhere. A large wooden work table, the earthy scent of herbs that had been hung to dry, a wide stone hearth, the gentle waft of heat still emanating from the large iron ovens, and the kind of comfort that couldn’t be found in any other room of the sophisticated mansion.

With a sigh, she strode forward to set her candle on the table. Running her hand over the smoothly worn surface, she already felt the knot of disquiet inside her beginning to release.

She’d met the earl’s chef—a delightfully charming older Frenchman—a couple days ago. After a lovely conversation, she’d obtained his permission to use the kitchen and pantry stores anytime she wished as long as it didn’t interfere with his meal preparations and she promised to leave everything as she found it.

Being as it was near midnight, she doubted she’d get in anyone’s way tonight.

Quietly and efficiently, she went about gathering the things she needed. Once all the ingredients were laid out on the giant table, she rolled up her sleeves and, with a spark of anticipation, got to work.

She hadn’t baked using true measurements for a number of years, preferring to rely on her experienced eye and her instinct when it came to such things. The bread she was throwing together tonight wasn’t difficult. She’d actually chosen it for its simplicity knowing it would allow her mind to wander while keeping her hands busy.

And her mind certainly wandered.

She thought of Mr. and Mrs. Norris and hoped Roy and the girls were all doing well.

She thought of how she’d need to get Caillie’s lessons started up again soon. They’d taken a break upon arriving in London to allow the opportunity to settle in a bit, but the reprieve couldn’t last forever. She’d visited the schoolroom yesterday and confirmed it had everything she needed. And then some.

She thought of Mr. and Mrs. Bentley and Miss Chadwick and couldn’t help but acknowledge how Caillie’s new family had so far proven to be friendly and frustratingly likeable. Even though there were two more brothers still to meet, Ainsworth was beginning to suspect the earl and Bentley would devote themselves quite intensely to Caillie’s comfort and protection. In their own individual ways, of course.

Which led her to thoughts of the earl specifically and how—despite his determination to hold himself rather distant from those around him—it was quickly becoming quite obvious that he was not the callously selfish man his father had been.

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