Page 6 of All Roads Lead To Earls (To All The Earls I’ve Loved Before #2)

All the same, he would rather like another kiss, and she was offering herself up to him so magnificently.

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, giving her every opportunity to pull away.

She did not. Did his lips descend on hers or did she close the distance?

It was hard to tell, all that mattered was the sensation of her delightfully warm lips on his.

Where they belonged. He could get very used to this.

Not that he would form an attachment at all. There was no chance of that happening, not from a mere two kisses, even if he could feel the power of them all the way down to his boots.

The stable doors opened and light from outside poured in.

She would jump back out of a sense of propriety …

yet she didn’t! Had she not heard the door?

Somebody cleared their throat, and she still didn’t pull back?

How terribly brazen! His brain slowly processed that she must be challenging him again – or perhaps she’d set him up?

He had to be the one to pull away, and when he did, he saw Lady Mary standing there in the doorway, pretending to use a brush to wipe her boot and very obviously not looking in their direction.

Any moment now she would make a wild gasp and declare he’d compromised Miss Jones. An all too familiar trap.

For her part, Miss Jones smiled and offered him a wink, before turning to respond to whoever had caused them to stop kissing.

“Lady Mary, the spring bucks are in fine health today,” Miss Jones said with a steady voice, as if nothing had happened at all and her entire world hadn’t been turned upside down with an incendiary kiss, as his so clearly had.

“Miss Jones, how convenient to find you here,” Lady Mary acknowledged her presence. Then she curtseyed toward Patrick and asked after his health.

Patrick had to clear his thickened throat before he could reply that he was well, and very much enchanted with the spring bucks. “I don’t suppose I could order a pair for my estate in Ireland?”

Lady Mary beamed at him, “Let’s arrange a meeting with the Alwyns, they’re the owners of the fine beasts. I daresay they’d be willing to negotiate, my lord.”

“Most diplomatic of you, Lady Mary,” he replied and couldn’t help grinning. He hoped she’d heard his double meaning, in that she’d also been very diplomatic upon walking in on him kissing a young lass, and she hadn’t made a scene.

Then Lady Mary said, “I must ask for the return of Miss Jones; my daughter-in-law requires her.”

Patrick bade Miss Jones farewell with a curt bow, and his kissing partner made a quick curtsey and exited. He expected Lady Mary to follow her out, but the dowager remained in the stables. “I do hope your lordship slept well last eve?”

“Indeed, an excellent night’s sleep, and in good comfort. I thank you. I might be inclined to make an offer for the bed itself, the most comfortable I’ve had in years.”

“If you are able to stay a few more nights, would you agree to Rosstrevor Hall hosting a ball in your honor?”

She wanted him to stay longer? “That would be delightful,” he readily agreed.

“I should like to invite some eligible ladies from the region, if that would provide entertainment, my lord?”

“I completely understand, my good woman,” Patrick grinned. “You have an enterprise to continue and an unmarried earl has fallen into your lap, so to speak. However, I make no promises whatsoever about forming any attachments with any eligible ladies.”

“I am greatly relieved to hear that,” her expression matched her words, and she appeared genuine. “I wanted to speak with you about a certain young woman.”

“Could you possibly be referring to Miss Jones?” No reason to dance about the point, best get straight to it.

“Yes, the very same. Please, I request you do your utmost not to form any attachments to that particular young woman. If you have, I must ask you desist immediately.”

Patrick swallowed. Was the doddery old dearie assuming he was the one who’d formed an attachment with Miss Jones and not the other way around?

Even if he had formed a tendresse, how dare she tell him Miss Jones was off limits. He was an earl; nobody was off limits to him. Unless … good heavens, she wasn’t promised to a duke, was she? That did rather alter things.

“I assure you there is no intention or attachment,” he began. Lady Mary delivered a slow nod. “At least not on my part. You might want to deliver Miss Jones the same advice.”

“I thank you,” Lady Mary said with a curtsey to indicate she was about to leave. “She is needed here most sincerely, and is highly valued by my daughter-in-law for her company.”

By the time his coachman arrived in the afternoon, Patrick had had several hours to heat himself into a stew about what other people were thinking and saying about him.

Attachments? Pshaw ! He would dance with every eligible lady who attended the forthcoming ball.

A saucy thought took hold; he’d dance with the scullery maids if he could find them!

It did not bother Patrick one jot that his carriage was unrecoverable. His coachman seemed ready for anger or disappointment that they would not be able to resume their travels.

Instead of being upset, Patrick merely shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve recovered my belongings from what’s left of the carriage?”

“Naturally, sir.”

“Then all shall be well. Neither of us were harmed, nor the horses. Everything else can be replaced.”

“Very good, sir. If you are keen to travel and make up the lost time, we can take the ferry from Bangor early tomorrow morning and catch the Post Coach from the other side to Holyhead?”

“Well you see, the matron here is throwing a ball in my honor. Would be dashed rude of me to change my mind.”

“Oh. You’ve already accepted?” The man’s face fell.

“ ’Fraid so.” Oh dear, just because he was having a jolly time of it did not mean his coachman had the same frame of mind. The man had a family waiting for him back home.

“I tell you what, my good man, I shall give you leave to return to Ireland. You may send a letter on ahead once you get to Dublin’s shores to alert Belconnen Hall that I shall be delayed.”

“You are too kind. But if you need me to remain, I shall.”

“Nonsense. You’re a coachman without a coach.

May as well head home to your family who will be delighted to see you after all this time.

” Saints knew his own remaining kin barely cared for him.

A cold hardness settled in his belly at what awaited his return.

“Tell you what, if you can wait a half hour while I write, you shall be at liberty the very minute I hand it over to you.”

“Much obliged, sir,” John Coachman nodded and touched the front edge of his hat.

Their movements settled, Patrick made sure to keep to his promise and write a short letter.

In fourteen minutes he’d signed his name at the end.

It took barely two minutes to sand so the ink didn’t run, then he folded the paper, wrote the address on the clean side and sealed the edges closed with a dollop of wax.

He wasn’t wearing his ring, so he merely blew on the wax and pressed his index finger into the cooling wax. Good enough.

Barely three minutes after that, the back of John Coachman and the horse he rode in on vanished down the drive.

Now he could get back to his high dudgeon of Lady Mary thinking she could tell him who he was allowed to form attachments with.

Or was it upon? He’d mull over the grammar of that in due time.

The real issue was, Lady Mary was in no position to decide upon whom he should or could place his affections.

He chuckled to himself at how mistaken the dowager was. There mere thought that he, an earl, would form an attachment with the penniless Miss Jones was eminently laughable.