Page 12 of Dare to Tempt an Earl This Spring (Wedding Fever #1)

T homas walked to the back of the estate. Lady Ashley had been shown to her chambers, and he had ordered a bath for her as well. She might need time to rest and get used to the new surroundings. He wasn’t sure what a woman needed but he thought that he’d give her some space. The largest room had been made up for her in a dash. It used to be his mother’s private chamber with the most elegant, polished furniture. It was the most feminine place in all of Fort Balmore.

While Thomas bathed and changed out of his stuffy London clothes, he couldn’t stop imagining what Ashley might do in the bath, how she might be toweling dry her delicate naked body…the butler stopped his daydreams with a message.

“Lord Cambridge has arrived. He’s been where he always is.”

Thomas should have known his friend would be too curious not to visit. Minutes later, he stepped into the brewery, his eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through high windows. The air was thick with the scent of malt and hops, a robust aroma that enveloped him, grounding him in familiarity. Large barrels lined the walls, their dark wood stained from years of use, each marked with chalk for identification. The cool, slightly damp stone floor beneath his feet bore evidence of the day’s earlier cleaning.

Good. Everyone had continued their work in his absence.

In the center of the room stood a massive brewing vat, its copper surface gleaming under the soft light—a testament to the care taken in its maintenance. Nearby, a stack of fresh barley awaited its turn to be transformed, the grains golden and promising.

Sebastian was at the far end of the room, perched on a wooden stool beside a small, rustic table. He had an array of glasses in front of him, each filled with beer of varying shades—from pale gold to deep amber. His attention was focused, his expression one of concentration as he took a sip from one glass, then scribbled notes onto a piece of parchment beside him. Sebastian wasn’t just tasting; he was savoring, searching for the perfect balance of flavors that would satisfy the discerning palate. Exactly as Grandfather had taught them both since they’d been wee lads.

The bubbling from a smaller kettle in the corner drew his attention. Steam rose from it, carrying the fresh scent of hops, which mixed with the underlying sweetness of malt dominating the room.

Thomas cleared his throat.

His friend glanced up. “There you are. I had wondered when you were going to show your face. Thought you might have eloped.”

Eloped? The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. It wasn’t the worst one. “Anything worth tasting?” Thomas asked, settling across from Sebastian and placing both hands on the rough wooden table.

“Besides your bride?”

Thomas sucked in his lips and gave Sebastian a stern look.

“Oh, so this is rather serious then, you coming to the rescue of her reputation.”

“Seb,” Thomas warned him.

His friend was teasing him, testing. And until Thomas knew his heart, he wasn’t sure how to answer. But one thing was for certain: His bride was not a joking matter. She was real, natural, and a force in his life he’d never want to let go.

“I’m trying to make something lighter for the spring,” Sabastian said thoughtfully, pushing a yellow-orange glass toward Thomas.

Beer. Good idea.

He took a sip, then licked his upper lip. “The foam is too dense. Tastes like honey.”

Sebastian looked up, his eyes lighting up as he gestured for Thomas to try another. “Try this then,” he said, pushing a different glass forward. “It’s a new recipe I’ve been working on. I think it might just be the best yet.”

Thomas tried it, noting the hint of lemon and something else sweeter and tart in an aromatic way—grape, perhaps? He licked his lips, the aroma of the deeper malt note still dancing in the air. “This is amazing. Do you have enough to serve it at my wedding?”

Sebastian nearly dropped the glass he was holding. “I must have misheard; did you say beheading?”

Leaning back on the stool until its wobbly leg screeched, Thomas folded his hands on the table. “You heard right. Wedding.”

Sebastian was silent for a moment. “So, she said yes.”

Thomas grinned. “She did.”

“You look awfully happy for a man’s wedding because of a deuced wager he entered with a diabolical duke.”

“I have hope.”

“I have suspicions,” Sebastian shot back. “Why would she agree to wed a man she just met?”

“Why not? It’s the way of our society. Chaswick agreed as well.”

“Now, I’m even more suspicious,” his friend muttered. “Wait, Chaswick?”

Thomas laughed. “Cheer up, old friend. This is a time for celebration, not depression. You shall meet her later.”

“The Earl of Chaswick’s daughter is here?” Sebastian rose, his stool falling to the floor. “Are you mad?”

Thomas got up as well, his brows drawing together. “Are you not happy for me? It’s in time for the wager. She’s an earl’s daughter. Beautiful. Bold. I could do much worse.”

“Do much worse? How?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You don’t know?” Sebastian’s voice came as though he’d been cornered into speaking words he’d wished could remain undiscovered.

Thomas narrowed his eyes on his friend. “Know what?”

Sebastian shook his head. “You don’t spend enough time in town.” Sebastian combed his hand through his hair. “Chaswick.”

“What about him?”

“No, not him! His heir!”

“There’s none. She’s his only…” He paused at his friend’s expression. “ Oh .”

“Yes, there’s an oh .” Sebastian walked around the table. The shingle floor had dried, and the air seemed to have drained from the room as Thomas began to understand. “It’s rumored that the oh is about to come out of the shadows. I happened to be at White’s and the gentlemen couldn’t stop gossiping about it. Her family will be mired in scandal soon.” Sebastian waved grandly in the air.

Was that why she wished to marry speedily?

Was that why Chaswick allowed him to take her to the country without lifting a brow?

Thomas rubbed his temples. “Who’s the oh ?”

“So, I watched from a distance when the Lord Chancellor suggested to Paisley that Chaswick’s daughter was growing rounder by the day. Rumors of pregnancy are floating about. A man by the name of Clyde Sheffield stormed toward him, grabbed him, and—”

“Clyde Sheffield? From geometry class at Eton?” The one he’d seen again a few times at Oxford. It couldn’t be that one, he was so kind. Blond, blue eyed…like Ashley, but different. Thomas tried to place the name, but he’d never heard of it other than his old classmate.

“Lady Katharine Sheffield’s son. Illegitimately so.” Sebastian shook his head. “But at least he stood up to defend his sister’s honor. But more rumors sprouted because of that.”

“I don’t think Lady Ashley has a brother.”

“Or does she not know he exists? Or is she leading you on perhaps?”

Thomas swallowed hard. “She’s not that devious.”

“Perhaps not. But Paisley knows.” Sebastian pursed his lips. “You should sit.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Sit down, Thomas. You won’t like what I’m going to tell you now.”

“It doesn’t matter. We are already betrothed. She is willing; so am I.”

“Willingness is one thing, Thomas,” Sebastian said, shaking his head. “But you must think of the long term. What will you do if you discover she’s not who you thought?”

Thomas frowned, leaning forward, a fire igniting within him. “Then I will face it as it comes. I won’t hide behind caution and lose my chance at happiness. Plus, she’s still an earl’s daughter, isn’t she? Why would that be bad for me?” Scandal only mattered until they married, in London, but what Thomas pictured for a happy life was something else entirely.

Sebastian sighed, his shoulders sagging. “You’re playing with fire, my friend.”

“Perhaps,” Thomas said, straightening his back. “But I’ve always found warmth far more comforting than cold caution.”

Sebastian stared at him, clearly unconvinced. “Then I can only hope you don’t get burned by your bewitching new fiancée or the secret brother of hers.”

So did he.

*

A lady in want of gossip need look no further than the kitchen, Ashley thought when she took it upon herself to tour the castle. The kitchen maids were the undervalued, forgotten staff of society, remembered only when there was a mishap with the food—and even that was rare. Recipes were easily followed once one mastered the skill, and yet, for all their simplicity in the culinary arts, the kitchen staff were the most outspoken of all the servants.

That was what Ashley had learned over the years.

She didn’t gossip all that much with hers, not like Charlene. She loved instead to converse with the staff. She often dressed up as them and did chores around the house to see if she could fool her family.

So, Ashley breezed into the kitchen with a bright smile. “My apologies for the intrusion. I’m Lady Ashley, a guest of the earl.” Should she say betrothed? No. That might seem a bit too arrogant! “I’m wondering about his normal appetite.” After all, the book of her mother had a note that a man’s heart could be thawed with food. Not that she dared cook. She didn’t want anyone to die. But knowledge was power, as they said.

The staff cast her a sidelong glance before flicking their gazes to the cook, who was currently kneading dough. Ashley kept a smile perched firmly on her lips, determined to charm her way into their gossip.

“I’m Mrs. White,” the woman said, and after a pause, added, “He doesn’t like green beans.”

Ashley’s nose wrinkled in mock distaste. “Who does? They should just stop growing them altogether. England would be a much happier place without them.”

“England would also be riddled with more illness,” Mrs. White replied, her hands busy shaping dough into surprisingly even lumps as she spoke.

Ashley arched a brow in amusement. “Are you telling me green beans will save the world? The people of England would disagree.”

Mrs. White shrugged. “That doesn’t make them less good for your body. Keeps you regular.”

Ashley jerked her head back. “Agreed.” And now that the ice was broken with the cook… “Very well, what about what the earl’s favorite food?” Ashley’s asked, suddenly curious.

Mrs. White gave a thoughtful pause. “None which come to mind.”

“Mrs. White!” Surely the woman was teasing her! “Did I just catch you in a lie?”

The woman laughed. “My allegiance lies with the earl.” The woman gave her a once over. “And I question your presence in my kitchen.”

“What’s to question? I’m here for gossip. I shall not deny it. I know all the good stuff is brewed in the kitchen.”

The staff snickered, and Cook shook her head, but her lips still quirked upward before she sent the staff a scolding look, and they swiveled to go about their tasks, mouths clamped shut.

Ashley laughed.

She leaned against the door with a smile. “What about love interests?” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Are there any women woefully in love with the earl his future wife might need to be wary of?”

“Lady Catrina.”

Ashley’s back shot straight. Linsey really did have a love interest. Mmm. She was probably a pretty country girl who danced in fields of flowers and rode horses in green pastures.

What on earth are you thinking, Ashley?

She cleared her throat. “Who is Lady Catrina? Does she live on a neighboring estate?” Distance matters.

Just look at her and Jordan.

Forget about him.

Just for a moment. Just for this stretch of time where she was engaged to Linsey. Afterward she would think about that rascal again.

“No, no, she lives on the estate,” Mrs. White announced.

The estate? As in this house? She would have to ask him later. “What about him? Is he fond of Lady Catrina?”

“Exceedingly fond,” the cook said, relentless in her kneading of the dough. “They often go for morning rides and evening strolls.”

Both morning and evening? That was rather troubling.

“What’s the matter?” Mrs. White asked, “Didn’t you wish for the latest gossip, my lady?”

The staff snickered again, and Ashley scowled. “If he is so fond of her, why does he not ask for her hand in marriage?” Ashley muttered.

“How could the earl do that? Lady Catrina has hooves, not hands.”

Ashley’s face went deadpan even as the hairs on the back her neck shot straight. Ashley made a mental note never to mess with Mrs. White. “Catrina is a horse.” Of course, Catrina is a horse. Why did he keep including titles to his horses? It was a recipe for misunderstanding! He could at least have named it after a cello.

The staff burst out laughing now.

Ashley sighed, but in the end, she couldn’t help chuckling along.

I can live here.

The thought came so suddenly, so unexpected, that Ashley’s laughter caught in her throat. She could really? Was it too presumptuous to think such a thing just because she enjoyed a silly conversation with the kitchen staff?

It wasn’t just the kitchen, though. It was the estate, the house, even the stables—it all felt so warm, so… warm .

And then, of course, there was the man himself: Linsey.

He wasn’t just warm; he was blazing hot compared to everything else. Which tempted Ashley to want to get to the bottom of who he was at the core all the more. But temptation was a dangerous game, one she wasn’t sure she could afford to play. It threatened to pull her in, like a moth to a flame, whispering that the heat would be worth the burn.

It wasn’t.

Couldn’t be.

“Well, you certainly had me there, Mrs. White,” she said with a shake of her head, a rueful smile tugging at her lips.

Mrs. White smiled. “Our employer is a good man, my lady, but no man is without his faults. It’s up to you to discover them, along with all the good things, too. He is your best resource.”

Truer words have never been spoken.

Only, Ashley didn’t know how much time she had left with the earl. Their whole relationship started on a quest for revenge. No good ever came from such a start. Then there was the man himself, who had his own reasons for procuring a wife—a wager over his horses. And she to make sure that didn’t happen.

This certainly was no love match. But it was no less intriguing.

In fact, she didn’t need a love match, if she were completely honest with herself. She didn’t even know if her affections for Jordan had run that deep. But she was deprived of the chance to discover that. Besides that, all she wanted was to be seen. Understood. She wanted someone to discover all her faults too and accept them, too. Someone who wasn’t like her mother and would offer her a marriage that didn’t leave her as lonely as her father.

It certainly wasn’t easy to find such a match.

Perhaps the earl had the right of it. Focus on horses. They were easy. They didn’t care about a man’s faults. They accepted. They loved. Perhaps, if they were particularly bright, they would see as well.

There you go again, Ashley.

Chasing absurd thoughts.

So long as she only chased them in her head.