Page 4 of Dare to Tempt an Earl This Spring (Wedding Fever #1)

The next day

“S o, how was your tête-à-tête with the earl?” Charlene asked as she set down her cup of tea and cast a meaningful look at the others. Sera Lyndon, the daughter of a rich merchant, and Maddie Hunt, daughter of the Viscount of Tisdale, had come for tea, as usual, ready for the post-ball debrief.

“It was fine.” She hadn’t stayed at Charlene’s the previous night, wanting to be up before dawn if the earl decided to call. Not that he could call at dawn , but she hadn’t wanted to take any chances.

Ashley almost pouted.

She sensed the blooms in the air, and she should have been experiencing these blooms with Jordan. Not alone. Certainly not amid a revenge plot. However, this plot to ruin the Earl of Linsey was all that kept her weathering the roses.

“ Just fine?” Charlene asked in disbelief. “How on earth did you weasel a dance from the earl?”

Ashley smoothed her skirt. Did they honestly need to ask?

“You danced with the Earl of Linsey?” Maddie asked. “How on earth did you manage that? And why did I decide not to attend the ball again?”

Ashley cut her friends a look. How horrid must she be for them to be so stunned by the prospect? “I challenged him. How else do you get a man to do what you want?” Her aim remained crystal clear—seduce the elusive, horse-obsessed earl, make him fall deeply in love, and then shatter his heart.

He had seized what was hers, and now she’d do the same.

An eye for an eye…

A game of justice. One that she was determined to win. Victory would come when she reunited with Jordan.

“Did your mother’s book teach you that?”

That book. She scowled. It didn’t suit her personal style at all. One or two things she could work with, like direct eye contact, but not much else. Certainly not wagging one’s brows or fluttering one’s lashes!

“Did the advice not work?” Maddie pressed.

Well… “Whether it works or not is not for me to say…”

Maddie laughed. “You lost patience, didn’t you?”

“It’s not like I have all the time in the world. The earl is in search of a wife. I must be that wife.”

Both women, seated in plush velvet chairs, arched their brows.

“Oh, do not look at me like that. I didn’t mean wife , wife. I’m not going to marry the man. Just punish him for what he did to me.”

“What he did to Mr. Critton, you mean.” Maddie lifted her cup to take a sip of tea.

She should have offered sherry. “Is that not the same?”

Both friends remained silent.

“I know,” Ashley muttered. “You think I’ve gone mad.”

Two heads shook in all directions.

Hah! Would they swear on their souls? “I haven’t,” Ashley defended herself. “Justice must be served.”

“What’s next, then?” Charlene asked. “ After justice has been served?”

Her foot tapped on the ground in a rhythmic, Shakespearean beat on the carpet. A bad habit. “I wait.”

“Are you sure you can?” Maddie asked, her gaze darting to the devil-possessed foot. “Waiting is the definition of patience. That is not a virtue you possess.”

“Darn it. I shall be waiting impatiently . But wait, I shall.”

Charlene laughed. “Well, our conversation seems as vibrant as the floral patterns on our gowns, and the beat of that foot? Shall we change it?”

Ashley snorted. “Is that an attempt at humor, Char?”

“Lightening the mood,” Charlene corrected. “Patience truly is not your forte.”

Maddie nodded. “But speaking of humor, did you see the Dowager Countess’s headdress at Almack’s?” Maddie said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I swear it was taller than she!”

Ashley nodded.

A diversion of conversation was welcome.

Charlene grinned, covering her mouth with her hand. “And what about Sir James’s attempts to dance the waltz? It was more like a jig!”

“If he kisses like he dances, it might be better to stay far away from him, despite his title,” Maddie agreed.

Ashley joined her friends in laughter. Truth be told, she hadn’t witnessed any of what they were describing. All she remembered was him.

The oaf—Earl of Linsey.

And his hands…expertly, and most annoyingly, surprisingly, and very vexingly, a bit breathtakingly, on her back. Not even to begin describing her hand held in his. The two things she had tried hard to ignore when they were dancing.

And failed.

“Doesn’t the earl have horses that race in the Ascot?” Sera suddenly asked.

Ashley shrugged. How would she know?

Charlene nodded. “He does have a horse, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Then perhaps the part of your revenge could be for him to lose,” Sera suggested with a twinkle in her eye.

Lose? Did she want him to lose all he holds dear? “But how? Bribe the rider?”

“Or,” Maddie said, “Feed him a tonic that renders him unable to participate.”

“Like a poison?” Ashley put a hand on her mouth.

“More like a laxative. I can give you some.”

Ashley pursed her lips. She knew that her friend had a medical—or perhaps chemical—solution to almost everything, but that she could influence the race was a new category of brilliance! “How does this tonic work?”

“It’s concentrated senna tea. He will have to run quickly but that’s all,” Maddie explained. “No harm, no foul. At least, for the rider.”

“But he’d miss the race?” Ashley pressed on and Maddie raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

So diabolical.

Utterly forbidden.

She loved it.

“You can truly do that?”

“Of course,” Maddie said. “Anything to help a friend. Women have so little control over their lives; seeing you take charge should be an inspiration for all of us. If I can offer a little nudge in the right direction, I feel obliged.”

“Then we shall go ahead and help Linsey lose the race,” Ashley said without remorse. If it only took a race to ruin him, he must be already dangling, and she’d merely cut off the last branch he was holding.

A stab of remorse shot through her chest as she imagined his warm eyes widen in surprise with the realization of defeat. But Ashley thought about her future and how the earl had crushed her hopes, dreams, and chances. She’d gone from having everything to being on the brink of ruination and disrepute—who wanted a jilted earl’s daughter who had no prospect except for another expensive season? It was hopeless and she saw no other way.

Just then, another thought occurred to her. “Tell me, do you think a man of experience, like the earl, could be convincingly seduced without the involvement of genuine affection?” She picked idly at the lace trim of her tea napkin, her mind whirling with unspoken worries. “I mean, would his vast experience not put me at a disadvantage?”

She didn’t want to fail again.

“You mean won’t he see straight through your pretense?” Charlene said knowingly.

Ashley pulled a face. “Something like that.”

“He probably already has,” Charlene said, chuckling.

“But that doesn’t matter, does it?” Maddie pointed out. “You said he is in search of a wife. The diamonds of the season have been snatched up and there is not much time left to choose from the crop that is left. He would have to move fast if he wants enough time to woo his chosen one.”

“How nice of you to refer to us as crops,” Charlene muttered.

Maddie’s eyes crinkled. “We must find the humor in our looming spinsterhood.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ashley said, but her lips quirked. “I don’t intend to ever reach spinsterhood.” She suddenly snorted. “But the earl wants a soft-spoken little creature that obeys him like his horses.”

“Scared him off, did you?” Charlene arched a brow filled with laughter.

“I didn’t scare him off,” Ashley denied. “I made myself unforgettable.”

“Or you gave the poor man a trauma,” Maddie suggested, grinning. “I might have a remedy for that, too.”

Ashley slumped back. “I need one for this conversation.”

“Come now. It can’t be that bad.” Charlene patted her leg. “This is merely your impatience surfacing to toy with your mind.”

How marvelous if that could be the case. The truth of the matter was that she didn’t know. With Jordan, every moment since they met had been seamless and delightful. The exact opposite of what she experienced with that man.

Linsey.

Ashley bit down on her jaw.

You better not disappoint me any further by selecting a bidding lady as a future bride.

If that happened…

Then she could always burn his precious stables to the ground. Sell his horses to the post. Run away to the Americas where he could never find her or exact revenge back on her. So, tricking him to select her as his wife wasn’t the only play.

She allowed that thought to give her comfort.

“Will you cover for me?” Ashley asked Charlene who set her cup down with a clop.

“What do you mean?” Charlene cast the others a look that said as much as if-one-of-us-goes-down-we-all-do.

“You know we will always support you—” Sera started.

“Even if your plans are ludicrous,” Maddie added, always the more cautious one.

“Ashley,” Charlene’s tone was irritatingly patronizing, “I am always in your corner, and you know that.” Ashley narrowed her gaze, bracing herself for whatever her friend would say. “I just won’t stand by and watch you get ruined.”

How nice of her to say that, even though it was a fait accomplit.

A moment of silence passed over them and Ashley swallowed.

“It already happened,” she declared.

“What?” all three of her friends burst out, wide-eyed, and Charlene gripped the hem of her sleeve as if it could shield her from the ugly truth.

“Have you and Jordan…” Sera asked.

“No!” Ashley reassured her.

“Are you sure?” Maddie pressed for information in her not-so-subtle manner.

“I’m sure I’d know.” Ashley crossed her arms.

“Oh, if I hadn’t delayed my coming out—” Charlene leaned back and put a hand over her forehead.

“You didn’t delay it, I did!” Maddie said, which earned her a pitying look from Sera.

“Look, when Maddie had the chickenpox—” Ashley started but Charlene cut her off.

“It wasn’t just that, rather that they kept her isolated in a room for a week. She was lonely!”

“It was your idea, however, to climb into my chambers.” Maddie reached for Ashley’s hand.

“But it was all of our decision to stay with you.” Sera nodded. “If one of us had to have the chickenpox, we’d all have it.”

“And tie our hands up in pillowcases so we wouldn’t scratch,” Maddie added.

“The worst was the white tincture. Do you remember the dreadful smell?” Ashley laughed.

Ashley remembered. It had been two of the worst weeks of her life, stationed in Maddie’s bed with her closest friends. Yes, it had been an itchy pain, but it was shared. And that was the best part of her life, her friends.

“What if he hurts you?” Maddie asked wistfully.

“We won’t let him,” Charlene said.

“He already has,” Ashley asserted.

And now it’s payback time.

“We will be by your side wherever he takes you,” Sera added.

“Not to the Ascot, I’m sure,” Sera said.

A moment of silence washed over the room. Ashley met Charlene’s eyes, then Sera’s and Maddie’s.

“So it’s decided then?” Charlene asked.

“You’re truly going to take this on?” Sera’s question sounded more like a decision already taken.

“We will do this together,” Maddie said, reaching for Ashley’s hand.

Ashley gave her a little squeeze and reveled in the support her friends offered. And yet, again, thinking of the earl’s warm eyes pinched her resolve once more.

“There’s no turning back now,” she declared.

*

The next morning

The cool dawn air enveloped the sprawling stables, a longstanding pride of the House of Linsey, as Thomas stepped through the large wooden doors. Beside him, Sebastian Moore, the Marquess of Cambridge to most, but more of a brother to him, followed suit.

“Screechy hinges,” Sebastian drawled. “How unlike you.”

“I’ll oil it later.”

“Don’t you have more important jobs?”

“There’s nothing more important than the horses, the estate, and my people.”

Sebastian cocked his head, but Thomas ignored him. They were both supposed to produce heirs, and Sebastian had gotten no closer to that goal than Thomas had.

Again, the blonde beauty with the feisty personality came to mind. Why was it that she resurfaced in the oddest moments? He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“I’ll oil it and that’s that,” Thomas said gruffly. He may employ a staff of nearly forty people, but Thomas wasn’t above picking up some tools for repairs himself. Few people of the peerage knew how to survive on their own, but he couldn’t run an estate the size of his family’s if he didn’t know how to…well… run it. Which meant he made the decisions. Period.

Plus, it was fun to do something. He couldn’t understand why other noblemen like Paisley just barked out orders and wasted their time at the gentlemen’s club. It was the worst way to spend his time. Wasn’t that what their titles were good for? To do something with one’s life and to leave something behind?

That’s why he couldn’t squander what the Earls of Linsey before him had left behind.

His eyes took in the sight of the magnificent horses, their proud heads held high, their muscles rippling under their glossy coats. No one could fault him for how his estate was run. These were thoroughbreds that his family had cultivated for generations, their lineage as noble as his own.

His pride.

Of course, racehorses were revered animals, bred meticulously for their strength, speed, and endurance all over the realm, but the Linseys’ horses were special. The breeding process was a meticulous one, paying careful attention to lineage to maintain the purity of the breed and improve upon desirable traits. He enjoyed other fast horses, too, but thoroughbreds, stemming from three key sires—the Byerley Turk, the Darley Arabian, and the Godolphin Arabian, were among the most appreciated breeds in the racing world.

“I still can’t believe you’d ever enter into a wager risking your grandfather’s legacy,” Sebastian said. “You may have just wagered his trophies, too.”

“He was an icon, Sebastian. I’ll never live up to him,” Thomas mumbled.

“Well, you might. He shone at the Epsom Derby and the 2000 Guineas Stakes,” Sebastian said appreciatively. “And your thoroughbreds will be the strongest at the Royal Ascot this year.”

Thomas sighed. He could only hope so. The race held immense popularity, drawing crowds from all strata of society, affirming the significance of horse racing in British culture.

“I just don’t know if I can live up to what my father and grandfather have created.”

“They didn’t create any of it. They managed it extremely well.”

“Not sure I can,” Thomas admitted. Of course, he’d never have told another soul, but this was Sebastian. He’d always been there, and he was the only one who knew Father and Grandfather. He understood.

“Look, nobody realizes just how much you’ve put in. You need to win the Ascot and shine.”

So Paisley takes it all. Thomas tasted acid.

“You’re doing what nobody has ever done, Thomas!”

“Losing my family’s legacy? I’m pretty certain I wouldn’t be the first.”

“No. You’re ensuring that the horses were not just bred but compatible.”

“It’s almost romantic, isn’t it? A fairy tale,” he growled, taking stock of all the work he’d lose if Paisley got his horses.

“You and I both know that they are feeling creatures.”

“Paisley?”

“No, not him. The horses.”

As a result of his careful breeding, the foals were stronger, faster, and their coats even shinier than any his grandfather had bred. Thomas couldn’t get himself to let the horses mate for the sake of procreating. It would be no different than if he merely impregnated a woman for the sake of producing an heir. There had to be the matter of the heart, something he couldn’t discuss with anyone except for his best friend Sebastian.

“You do have a way with them,” Sebastian commented, his tone light, yet carrying an undertone of reverence.

“Horses?” Thomas nodded.

“No, women.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.” Sebastian combed both hands through his hair. “You go to one ball, make a rash decision to marry so Paisley won’t get the thoroughbreds, and the prettiest woman comes to you.”

Thomas’s heart dropped. She was very pretty and spirited. There’d been a wealth of intelligence in her eyes and wit in her manner of speaking. And when they’d danced, his hand trailed down her back and for a fleeting moment—just a fraction of a second—where he thought about something more. Not love, of course not. Compatibility perhaps?

She was the daughter of an earl after all.

A very pretty and forward one, to be exact.

The soft neighing coming from below interrupted his daydreaming.

Thomas chuckled, his eyes softening as he approached a frail foal tucked away in a corner. If he had a way , this weak little one wouldn’t have been born so fragile, but he would do anything in his power to save this little one.

“They are my responsibility, Sebastian. They depend on me, just as my people do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he stretched out a hand, allowing the foal to recognize his scent.

Thomas crouched down beside the weak little horse whose legs seemed no thicker than matchsticks. His heart melted.

“This little one almost died last week,” Thomas said as his expert hand rested on the foal’s heart. “He was even too weak to drink milk.”

“So you fed him?” Sebastian asked.

“A bottle, yes. I made him oats and milk with egg yolks. He looks better now, doesn’t he?”

Sebastian gave an appreciative smile, leaning against the stable’s doors. “You know, if you were as kind to yourself as you are to these horses, you might find a way to fulfill the desires of your own heart.”

Thomas glanced up at him, surprised. He opened his mouth to retort, but words failed him. Instead, he looked away, his gaze falling back onto the frail creature before him. “I am an earl, Sebastian,” he finally said, his voice steady despite the uneasiness he felt within. “My desires are secondary to my duty. I wasn’t trained to listen to my heart.”

Sebastian sighed, pushing off from the door, and patted a hand on Thomas’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “And yet,” he murmured, his tone gentle yet firm, “even earls are allowed to have the attention of a woman they love. And hearts, my friend, are not designed to be ignored.”

If only…

The silence that followed was punctuated only by the soft whinny of the foal and the distant crowing of a rooster. Thomas didn’t want to marry, especially not any of the debutantes he’d met at the ball. They were either too young, too done up, or just altogether wrong. The one that had irked him the most was this Lady Ashley. She’d been forward and rather bold, if not outright rude.

Thomas chuckled.

She was amusing.

“What are you laughing about?” Sebastian asked.

“Oh nothing…” Just the hotblooded female I can’t get out of my mind . Come to think of it, she was right about what she’d said, and her observations were, whether he wanted to admit it or not, true. And what was also true was how outright beautiful she was in her azure dress, shimmering with every movement.

Ah.

The way the fabric had clung to her…the dress had seemed an extension of herself, accentuating her perfect proportions and complementing her striking blue eyes. Those eyes… So mysterious and clear at the same time. The play of the soft lighting of the chandeliers in the ballroom and the warm sheen of the parquet had complemented the cool tones of her eyes. Yet, there’d been a flicker of a heat in her gaze that made Thomas’s stomach lurch now that he considered it again. It wasn’t desire exactly—he knew what that looked like in a woman. Certainly not like that with her lips pinched and her lids drawn low as if she were calculating how best to dissect him.

She seemed to be plotting something. There was certainly more to her than she’d let on.

And Thomas couldn’t help but wish to fit into those plans.

Surely nothing evil could go on in that pretty head of hers, just as nothing vile could emerge from the kissable mouth… Stop!

Even though she was a beauty without a match as far as Thomas could remember, the blue fabric made her seem like she had stepped out of a Renaissance painting. Every detail of her was exquisite, making her appear less like a woman and more like a master’s sketch of the perfect woman. It was an unsettling, yet intriguing, realization for him.

Because she attracted him.

“You are thinking about a woman, aren’t you?” Sebastian said, crossing his arms.

“What makes you say that?”

“Your cheeks are red.”

Thomas’s hands shot out to cover his cheeks, glaring at his friend when he laughed.

“So,” Sebastian asked, clearing his throat. “Who is she?”

Thomas thought about the little beauty. “Someone suspicious.” She was boldness personified in a manner he had never quite encountered before. However, she seemed too good to be true. Had she planned to meet him and merely lost patience to wait for a proper introduction or was there more to it? Could Paisley have had a hand in their meeting?

Thomas broke out in goosebumps.

She rather seemed like an order placed but yet to be picked up. Was there a trick? Had she so little regard for her reputation, she’d forgo a proper introduction? She was practically ruining herself—or was she already ruined?

So many question marks surrounded her.

A low rumbling tugged at Thomas’s heart, stirring a sense of suspicion that was tough to quell—and he hated it. Could Lady Ashley’s seemingly haphazard acquaintance with him have been an orchestrated ruse?

No, Paisley wouldn’t go that far, would he?

He wanted to win the bet, right?

An unsettling chill ran down his spine. As much as he was drawn to Lady Ashley, this suspicion cast a dark shadow over his initial impressions. If she didn’t come to him on her own accord but she’d been sent, Thomas wondered if he’d still want her. Yet, nothing could distract him entirely from her mesmerizing charm. He was caught in a bewitching paradox, torn between charm and caution.

“Ah,” Sebastian said. “You met her at the ball you didn’t tell me you were attending.”

“Don’t look at me that way. You and Paisley don’t get along.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to behave,” Sebastian muttered. “So, who is she?”

“ She is called Lady Ashley.”

A little spitfire.

She would make for a rather interesting match.

Sebastian quirked a brow and gave Thomas a suspicious once-over. “You mean—”

He stilled. By Jove, was he already thinking about her as a match? Well, she was smart and not shy, which could be beneficial for him.

And…

A certain other spot. Like, say, the bedchamber. He was used to breaking in wild beasty horses and expected no less of this blonde beauty.

What are you thinking?

He rubbed the back of his neck.

Why had she chosen him? Had a certain sense of wicked curiosity fueled her to approach him or was it just plain sauciness? He thought of some of the beauties he’d met over the years. Most of them had acted either spoiled or entitled, as though their attractiveness was a currency, and they’d use it to get what they wanted. But not Lady Ashley. So, it must be something else.

Call me intrigued, Lady Ashley.

“Is this Lady Ashley the one you’re going to marry because of your wager with Paisley?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. She might say no.”

“So you are seriously going forward with this?”

Thomas rubbed the foal’s head. “I don’t have much of a choice.” And she was the only woman who stood out to him.

Then why did he feel so uneasy about this infatuation with her?

Damnation.

Whatever her motivation, or situation, whether she was innocent or not, he could marry her and get Paisley off his back, deposit her somewhere in a country estate, and then go home to look after his prized horses.

It was that simple, right?

Yes, he could do that.

So why did the idea pull at his heartstrings as if he were making a questionable choice?