Page 61 of Tempting the Earl

“Are you sure?” Bentley asked. “The night is still young. No doubt the dancing will continue for several more hours.”

The earl stood and silently offered his hand to help her rise. She purposely didn’t look at him as she slid her fingers into his and stood. She kept her focus on Bentley to reply with a faint smile. “Thank you, but I think His Lordship is right. Please give your wife my regards and extend my appreciation for the lovely evening.”

“I will,” he said.

As they waited in the hall for their cloak and hat to be brought to them, Bentley assured, “I expect Nightshade will report to you soon on Thomas’s activities.” He lowered his chin and his voice. “I hate to think the man might do something reckless but the truth is, we simply don’t know him.”

“You’re right,” the earl agreed as he settled his gaze on Ainsworth. Something warm and concerning tumbled through her as he added, “We cannot be too careful.”

The carriage ride back to Wright House was as quiet as the one that took them to the party.

Ainsworth’s thoughts bounced wildly about. One minute she was thinking about the meeting with Mr. Thomas and all that it meant, and in the next, she’d inadvertently catch the earl’s rather focused gaze, and heat would rise swift and furious through her blood as she recalled in acute detail the moments they’d shared in the garden.

She couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if Mr. Bentley hadn’t interrupted them. She didn’t want to wonder. She wanted to know.

Shaw was nowhere about when they entered the house, so the earl set his hat and gloves on a table near the door as Ainsworth released the ties on her cloak. Their eyes met and in silent accord she turned as he stepped up and lifted the cloak from her shoulders. The material swirled for a moment between them before he gathered it and draped it over a nearby chair.

Taking a deep breath, Ainsworth turned back to face him again.

There was no reason to linger there in the hall, but she did. No reason not to murmur a simple good night and make her way up the stairs to her bedroom. But she didn’t.

Though his manner was as calm and patient as always, she felt something different emanating from him. It was similar to frustration but not so harsh. It was more like anticipation. Or...longing.

“I wonder—” she began just as the earl also spoke.

“Would you like—”

They both stopped. He cleared his throat as a swift rise of humor curved her lips and slipped from her throat in a soft chuckle.

A responding twitch of amusement lifted the corner of his mouth and an interesting light flickered in his eyes. “I’ve a bottle of claret in my study,” the earl said, “if you’d like to join me for a glass before retiring.”

Her belly gave an odd little dip. “That sounds lovely.”

He gestured toward a pair of double doors that stood open to a short hall ending in the earl’s personal sanctuary. Ainsworth had never been in the lord’s study but she well remembered her father’s had been a small, somewhat gloomy place when he’d sit for hours bent over his desk.

Wright’s study, however, wasn’t gloomy at all. Smaller than a sitting room but spacious enough for a sturdy leather-topped desk and an overstuffed sofa set before the fire, it contained an air of warmth and physical ease. A low fire burned in the grate and a dimly lit lamp on the desk cast an even glow about the room. That the room was kept in such readiness suggested the earl often retreated to this quiet place in late night hours.

After leaving the door respectably ajar, the earl crossed to a corner cabinet to pour the wine. She forced herself to ignore a flash of annoyance that he continued to so intently adhere to propriety despite the lines they’d already crossed—twice—and despite the fact she wanted to cross them again and again.

Restless, she wandered to one of the three large windows. The drapes were already drawn back and she went one step further by flipping the latch to push the casement open to the night air. The heady scents of flowers, earth, and starlight rewarded her efforts. In the dark of night, the earl’s magnificent garden possessed a sense of mystery and sensuality in the shadowed foliage and curved walkways that wasn’t present during the day.

“Your claret.”

She turned at the earl’s low-spoken words to see he’d come up beside her. “Thank you,” she murmured. As soon as she took the glass from his hand, he stepped away again.

Disappointed by his retreat, she sipped the rich red wine.

“I apologize that the evening was cut so short.”

His voice came from far away and she glanced over her shoulder to see that he’d taken up position in front of the fireplace where he stood watching her.

“It’s certainly not your fault, my lord. You couldnae’ve predicted Mr. Thomas’s arrival.”

His brow furrowed for just a moment. “No, but maybe if I’d found the right thing to say to him...if I’d known better how to respond to his animosity—”

“The man was clearly not going to be swayed by anything anyone said.”

“I let him just walk out the door,” the earl countered.

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