Page 18 of Dare to Tempt an Earl This Spring (Wedding Fever #1)

P leasure came in many forms. The joy of a friend’s company, the approval of one’s parents, the thrill of a waltz with a rogue. But this was something else entirely. The pleasure of flesh.

Not that Ashley had known much about it firsthand, but she’d heard enough gossip to wonder. When Thomas’s fingers moved within her, she finally understood. Pleasure wove through her body, flooding her limbs in waves, intense and unrelenting, like the force of a cannon blast. And Thomas—the gunpowder that ignited it all.

Slowly, he drew his hand back, his touch trailing down her thigh as he settled beside her, her breaths slowing. The silence between them was thick, almost tangible, thrumming with what she could only describe as something close to…magic. Her heart thundered as she lay there, catching her breath, staring up at the canopy of trees above. If this was what ruination felt like, no wonder parents tried to shield their daughters. Once found, there was no chance to not wish to repeat it.

Her lips parted and inhaled to speak, but it took a moment for her voice to return. “Thomas, that…”

He kissed her softly. “Was perfect.”

Perfect. She couldn’t deny it, but it was earth-shattering too, fracturing her carefully constructed convictions. She fought down the rush of emotion clawing to break free, gripping his hand just a little tighter.

“What happens now?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.

“Now we stay a little longer. Or we return home, if that’s what you want.”

Home. His home.

She swallowed, the weight of her decision settling over her. “Stay a bit longer…” Her mind was too muddled to move, much less to choose.

He gathered her in his arms, both of them lying back. Ashley lay nestled against the soft moss, her gaze fixed on the leafy canopy above. The spring leaves wove an intricate pattern, their edges shimmering as the sun filtered through. Where the leaves overlapped, shadows deepened the greens, painting a darker, richer hue, yet elsewhere, the light danced freely, casting sparkles almost at odds with the heavy feeling in her chest.

Beside her, Thomas stretched out, his presence a comforting warmth against the cool earth. His blond hair caught the dappled sunlight, each strand glowing with a brilliance that seemed to capture the very essence of spring. She watched as the light played over his features, rendering him almost ethereal, his hair gleaming like spun gold amid the muted tones of the countryside. So different from the man she’d her sights on at Almack’s.

She’d come so far toward her goal and yet felt never further removed from the truth.

Ashley breathed in the fresh scent of the earth and blossoms, a stark contrast to the smoky, bustling air of London. Here, everything felt alive, every rustle of leaves and distant bird call a reminder of the world’s vibrancy. Yet, beneath this lively exterior, a quiet melancholy scraped at her, a gentle ache that refused to be ignored.

Despite this, Thomas’s presence steadied her, his proximity both exhilarating and soothing. She turned her head slightly, taking in the slight rise and fall of his chest, the peacefulness etched on his face. Nature here was a living, breathing entity, different from the manicured gardens of the city, offering a raw beauty and an unfamiliar sense of freedom. She’d miscalculated Thomas just like she’d underestimated nature. Not just the countryside but even her own. She was out of her depth.

Her heart caught in a delicate balance between mental longing and physical contentment. The countryside, with its untamed charm, seemed to promise new beginnings, and perhaps a different path for her heart to follow.

“It’s pretty,” Ashley said, breaking the silence to quiet the persistent echo of What have I done in her mind.

He tightened his hold. “Yes, you are.”

She nudged him, half-smiling. “Oh, stop.”

He chuckled, his hand trailing gently along her arm. “I tell no lies.”

“Look there,” she said, pointing at a leaf that dangled above. “That one looks like a horse. Or maybe a donkey.” She paused, realizing, “Where’s yours?”

“Lord Chesterton will find his way back to the stables.” His fingers traced slow circles on her arm. “He’s quite capable.”

“Lord Chesterton?” She raised a brow. “I can’t believe you put titles in front of all your horses.”

“They deserve them,” he replied with an earnestness that made her laugh.

“You must hold them in high esteem.”

“They’re a passion of mine. And I believe every passion deserves the highest importance. Don’t you?”

She stilled. Revenge had been her passion when she’d learned of Linsey’s arrival in town. But that fire felt dulled now, softened by spending time with this man. What she held onto now was fleeting—this moment, this connection, however long it lasted. She needed to savor it, while she still had it.

His words from earlier flashed through her mind.

My heart is yours.

It worked. Her revenge. She could walk away right this moment, and he would feel her loss. A surge of emotion clenched her heart. She’d set a trap for him, one designed to end in heartbreak, yet here she was, teetering on the edge, caught just as much as he was. She pinched the bridge of her nose, battling the growing feeling she couldn’t shake. “Not all passions are equal.”

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “but all passions are meaningful.”

Ashley laughed, almost too sharply, as if to deflect his words. “Remember that, Linsey.”

“Thomas,” he corrected, his eyes gleaming. “Call me Thomas. Or love, or darling, I don’t mind.”

“How about Lord Linsey?”

“Please, no.” He laughed, and she managed a smile, though her mind was in chaos. She trusted him—at least in this moment. But beyond that? There was so much he didn’t know. And if he ever discovered the truth…

His words kept replaying in her mind: My heart is yours.

The thought gnawed at her, reminding her of the supposed wedding looming ahead. None of this was ever supposed to happen. What about the sword she told Charlene about? Was she wielding it and falling on it at the same time?

She felt like she was being pulled into something beyond her control. She wasn’t ready for this, to leave or to stay. Lying there with him… In that moment, nothing mattered; in the grand scheme of things, everything mattered.

“I think I might be falling in love with you,” she wanted to say, but the words stuck in her throat. She needed time. Time to think, to decide what this meant, and to figure out what she wanted—no, needed—to do next.

Quite frankly, Ashley didn’t know how to feel.

Her body thrummed. Her mind thrummed. Her heart thrummed.

This could be a trick of her own heart.

She couldn’t make any sort of decision in this state.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, brushing a lock of her hair back. “Is your mind racing, love?”

She arched a brow. “You can tell?”

He gave her a soft smile. “I’m good at races, especially reading them.”

“Reading?” She laughed. “No one reads a race. One places bets.”

He nodded, amused. “Only after you’ve weighed every factor—considered all you know about the horses.”

She jabbed him playfully. “Are you saying I’m like one of your horses?”

Catching her hand, he grinned. “Not quite. I’m saying I know you well enough now to tell when your mind’s running ahead.”

She bit her lip. “Am I really that transparent?”

“Always have been,” he teased, his gaze steady.

Her lips parted. No… “I am not that transparent.”

He shook his head, amused. “Your boldness, your honesty—that’s what drew me to you. I don’t mind that there aren’t many secrets between us.”

Again, his words settled uncomfortably in her chest. He was wrong. She had a secret—a deep one that wasn’t mere undiscovered knowledge. It was intentional, something she’d kept hidden from the start. She didn’t know if she could bear to reveal it, to shatter this moment.

I have to tell him.

She had always prided herself on her strength and independence, yet here she was, on the brink of surrendering to something far more powerful than she’d ever imagined. It frightened her, this burgeoning affection, because it meant relinquishing control. But even as her mind rebelled, her heart whispered a different truth: that perhaps, in letting go she might find something even more profound than she had ever dared to dream.

So, she had to tell him.

She couldn’t wait until that horrid duke blurted out her secret like he thought he had done to Linsey. That was no action of a friend, and she, who was just an obstacle to the duke, what would he do to her?

He’d wait for a pivotal moment to announce her wrongs.

That’s probably why he spared her secret in the bookshop.

“We all have our secrets,” she muttered.

He lifted her chin. “I quite like that there aren’t any between us. There are only things we don’t know about each other yet.”

Well, that was certainly one way to put it. “By that definition a secret is only undiscovered knowledge.”

“I can’t dispute that, but secrets also have an intention behind them. An intention not to share, where undiscovered knowledge is that waiting to be discovered.”

“Well, you certainly have an interesting point of view on the matter.” And not a wrong one.

Tell him.

If she didn’t, the knowledge of her deceit would fall upon him like a hammer. Yet admitting it now felt like leaping into an abyss, knowing there was no soft landing. Would he hate her? Would his affection crumble the moment he realized her intentions hadn’t been pure? She hadn’t been a different person, but her motives had been dark, and now they risked tainting everything between them.

Ashley didn’t want to break his heart. Not anymore. But she couldn’t help feeling that it was too late for that sentiment.

She would tell him. But not today.

Maybe tomorrow. Or the day after.

For now, she still had a bit of time.

*

There came a time in every man’s life when he needed advice—the kind of advice that no friend with a pint in hand could provide, nor could any well-meaning lordly acquaintance. No, this was advice best dispensed by a woman, someone who understood matters of the heart with an insight that men simply…didn’t. Unfortunately, Thomas had no sisters or mothers or aunts nearby, only the household staff.

Which was why he found himself slipping into the bustling kitchen.

He glanced around, blinking at the flurry of activity: copper pots clanged, meats sizzled on spits, and steam billowed up in fragrant clouds from pots boiling over the stoves. The air smelled rich and hearty, but Thomas still hesitated, feeling a bit like a misplaced cravat at a country fair.

Then Mrs. White, the head cook—a tall, formidable woman with hair tucked beneath her cap and a rolling pin in one hand and a ladle in the other—turned toward him, giving him a look sharp enough to slice bread.

“Lord Linsey,” she said, arching an eyebrow as if his presence were some breach of kitchen law. “What brings you here?” But her eyes betrayed that she already knew.

She’d known him since he was a boy and read him like an open cookbook.

Thomas cleared his throat. “I, uh…I need some advice.”

“Advice?” Mrs. White dusted off her hands on an already flour-dusted apron. “On what, pray tell?”

“Well, you see,” Thomas began, glancing around to make sure no prying ears would overhear, “I’ve taken quite an interest in a lady. And I thought, given your…experience with certain spices and recipes…”

Mrs. White chuckled. “So, you came to me for advice on how to cook up a romance? Well, I suppose I can’t fault you for recognizing talent,” she said, gesturing to a wooden stool. “Sit, then, and let’s see what can be done for you.”

As Thomas gingerly took his seat, Sebastian strolled into the kitchen, freezing at the doorway when he saw his friend sitting beside the cook’s worktable.

“Oh, this is rich. A love-struck lord seeking advice from Mrs. White of all people? I didn’t believe your valet when he told me so. Continue. I’m just watching,” he said, leaning against the doorway with a wicked grin.

Thomas gave him a deadpan look. “I thought you’d already left for town.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Changed my mind. And, frankly, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Go on.”

Mrs. White gave a loud cluck of her tongue, snapping Thomas back to attention. “If you do not want advice, I am a busy woman,” she said, fixing her steely eyes on him. “Is this about the young lady you brought back? The one you are already betrothed to?”

“Just because we are betrothed doesn’t mean I hold her heart.” He had admitted he held affection for her, but she hadn’t returned his sentiment.

It bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“Then, you’ll need finesse. Romance is like a well-baked pie, my lord. You need to get the filling right, or it’ll all fall to pieces. The crust on the outside isn’t everything,” Mrs. White said, dipping her ladle into a pot and stirring. “You want her to open up to you, yes? You need a warm atmosphere, and a gentle approach. Something sweet, but not too bold.”

“She thrives on boldness,” Thomas muttered, thinking back to their passionate encounter.

“The heart thrives on both. There is a balance to things. Always.”

Sebastian snorted. “A pie, Thomas. You must woo your woman like a pie.”

Mrs. White swatted at Sebastian’s hand as he tried to reach for a tart cooling on the counter just like she used to when they were boys. “Hush, you. Listen and learn, or leave.” An earl and a marquess were nothing in Mrs. White’s humble kitchen. She was the reigning queen here and Thomas was glad for it. Sebastian held up his hands in mock surrender, and Mrs. White continued. “Now, a lady needs to feel special. Do something small, unexpected. But personal.” She eyed Thomas. “Anything of note she fancies?”

Thomas thought for a moment, picturing Ashley’s reactions to different things. “She likes…” Oh boy, had he ever asked what she liked? “I suppose she likes to be surprised.” At least, he sensed she did.

“Then that’s what you use,” Mrs. White said, nodding approvingly. “Surprise her.”

Sebastian gave an exaggerated sigh. “Surprise her? That is rather anticlimactic. Really, Mrs. White? Our friend here needs a list with clear instructions.”

“Then he must write them himself. It will do our friend good to figure out some recipes by himself,” Mrs. White replied, unfazed. “And, Lord Linsey, you must speak to her heart. Ladies love to feel understood, to know that you see them truly. You do it well with me.”

“What?” Seb grimaced.

“You see me for who I am, a woman older than you, perhaps wiser, and certainly one who holds you as dear as your grandfather knew I did. You see me beyond our differences in standing. Go and see your sweetheart and let her know who you are deep in your heart.” She gave him a warm smile that nearly made Thomas choke, especially in combination with the memories of his grandfather. He’d gone in and out of Mrs. White’s kitchen as if they’d been old friends. “Tell her what you like about her.”

Thomas nodded, his mind racing. Well, he’d certainly done that much. “I’ve told her that I admire her boldness.”

“Is that all you admire about her?” Mrs. White asked, pausing to add, “You should dig a bit deeper, my lord, and make sure what you say is true.”

At that, Sebastian stifled a laugh. “This is Linsey we’re talking about. Our man here might melt if he attempted that level of sincerity.”

“Oh, Seb,” Thomas replied, managing a grin. “I can be sincere. I am sincere.”

Mrs. White gave them both a measuring look. “Whatever you do, keep it simple,” she added, ladling a spoonful of something warm and savory, offering it to Thomas.

Thomas tasted the soup absentmindedly, nodding. “I can do that,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Surprise her, keep it simple.” A flash of insight lit his head. “A ring. I can surprise her with a ring.”

Everyone in the kitchen fell silent, heads whipping to him.

“What?” he asked hesitatingly, feeling like he’d been caught with his hand in the sweets jar.

“You haven’t given her a ring yet?” Sebastian asked. “No token of affection?”

“No, not yet. It’s not typically done. Everything happened so fast, I thought I’d do it later.”

“Aye,” his friend mocked. “Your sincerity is palpable. Your resourcefulness, however…”

Mrs. White cleared her throat. “I would start with that, if I were you, my lord.”

Thomas dragged a hand through his hair.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, old chap. Your lady doesn’t mind penniless, so I daresay she doesn’t mind a stingy husband either.”

Thomas cursed.

Mrs. White handed Thomas a warm pastry. “Gentlemen, love may be as simple as bread and butter, or as complicated as a French pastry. Just be sure you’re worth it.”

You’re worth it.

His cook certainly didn’t mince words.

Him? He couldn’t say. But she? She certainly was.