Page 6 of Dare to Tempt an Earl This Spring (Wedding Fever #1)

T he man was a conundrum.

And not just any conundrum. A conundrum -conundrum.

He didn’t want to marry her for her dowry.

He passed that test.

But marry within a week? Hah! The only reason she could think of, well two reasons, was he either required an urgent heir, or it had something to do with his infamous prized horses. Since he didn’t look like a dying man—everyone but Adonis and Hercules would envy him for his physique—her bet was on the latter. But just what had prompted him to hastily wed the first lady who showed interest in him?

It could spell trouble for her plans if she remained in the dark about his true motivations… Ashley felt a little like a fox considering whether to go into a trap or not. But this wasn’t one she couldn’t get out of. All she had to do was dissolve the engagement, break his heart, if he had one, and… Well, she did not believe that to be the case.

She had to keep her wits. I have it in spades . That was all she required. She had a plan and would fall on her sword if needed—after slicing his most precious treasure like a ham.

They were, however, leaving in the morning for his country estate.

Thus, the next morning, after her servants packed her essentials and she arranged for the rest to be delivered later, Ashley felt ready for battle. She’d donned her favorite travel dress and slept with her hair wrapped around red ribbons for the extra spring in her locks and the added encouragement. If she looked invincible, the rest would come on its own, surely.

“Are you certain this is what you want?” her father asked, nodding at a servant who cleared his breakfast plate. “It hasn’t been that long since you were sulking in a dark chamber because of that other fellow. What’s his name? John Crisson or something.”

“Jordan Critton.”

“Not a memorable name.” Her father gestured and winked at her.

“ Papa .”

“Fine, I won’t nag, but I like Linsey better than the previous one. He appears to be an upstanding man.”

Upstanding? What poppycock. But then, she supposed men had other criteria for liking or disliking their own kind. It wasn’t the same for her and didn’t factor into her vendetta. “The earl is quite something.”

“However, a sudden engagement is one thing, but leaving for his country estate is another.”

“You can always join us, if you wish.”

“No, I still have business in London,” her father said, scratching his chin. “But if Linsey has any ill-intentions, say the word, and I’ll break his arms and legs.”

What I will break is far worse than a leg. “Rest assured, Papa, I can handle Linsey.”

“I’ve never doubted your ability,” her father said, “but neither do I doubt his.” Ashley smiled but her father’s subliminal warning didn’t go unheard. Her father was ever indulgent, and they told each other, for the most part, everything. But she couldn’t share the truth about Linsey and Jordan with him. Not yet. She couldn’t give him a reason to stop the engagement lest she fail to achieve her goal. And if she didn’t avenge that she’d been used like a doll in the lives of these men without consideration to her feelings and future, then why should they fare any better?

And there was more now, Ashley realized. She wanted to succeed for her friends.

“Your mother will be over the moon when she learns of your engagement.”

Ashley’s eyes widened. “No! She cannot find out yet!” Her father joining them at Linsey’s estate was acceptable, but her mother? She would nag her and Linsey endlessly about every little detail of this engagement. Usually, her mother loved to travel with her friends and spent more time away from home than at their home. The woman didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. But planning a wedding could draw her out. Not because it was about Ashley but because Mother had a chance to use her as a pawn in society, of course.

Her father arched a brow. “She is bound to learn of your engagement sooner or later.”

“Yes,” Ashley said, suddenly parched. She poured herself another cup of tea and took a big gulp. “But don’t tell anyone, yet. I would like to enjoy my engagement for a bit. Let this be mine for a while, please.”

Let revenge be mine.

Her father chuckled. “That is true. Your mother loves to fuss and would distract your attention from Linsey.”

Exactly. Which was why she wanted to start and end her plan of revenge before her mother learned of Linsey. Ashley would like to avoid unnecessary complications if she could! “Her need to make a statement is the worst.”

“Do not worry. She will not hear about your engagement from me.”

Ashley grinned at her father. “Thank you, Papa.”

“The things I do for my daughter,” he muttered, but there was amusement laced in his voice. “So, will you not tell me why you chose Linsey?”

Ashley shrugged. “He is handsome.”

Her father arched a brow. “That is all you have to say about the man?”

“He loves horses, too.”

“And you don’t,” her father pointed out. “You love balls.”

True. “He owns a castle in the country.”

“You loathe anything beyond Piccadilly.”

Ashley nodded thoughtfully. Her father knew her too well. “I can see why you might be concerned. So why did you agree? Surely not only because I asked you?”

“Is that so?” He gave her a kiss on the top of her head like he used to when she was little.

“I’m not concerned, though I am a touch suspicious. What father would do it so quickly?”

“Love is quick sometimes. I hope you’ll know soon enough.”

“Of course, Papa,” Ashley said dryly. Thankfully, her father was not so heartless. “Enough about me, Papa. I’m more concerned with what you shall do without me.”

“Worry less, I imagine. I’m not entirely dependent on my daughter.”

Ashley grinned. “That is good to know, Papa.” But she didn’t like to leave him alone.

A question suddenly popped into her head. “Why are some men so obsessed with horses?”

“Why are some women so obsessed with shopping, dancing, knitting, reading, or like you, driving your father’s heart rate up?”

Ashley cast her father a deadpan look.

He chuckled, then shrugged. “We all have hobbies.”

True, still… “How can a hobby turn into such an obsession?”

“That I cannot say,” he murmured. “I suppose that it is different for each person. You are talking about Linsey, right? Perhaps he has nothing else to keep him occupied, or perhaps he’s using it to escape something else.”

Escape something else…

Intriguing.

Was Linsey using horses to escape something else, something deeper, or did he simply have only horses in his life to entertain him? Considering the man’s character, it might be a bit of both. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to understand what drove him. In fact, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that everyone had something, no matter how small, they wanted to escape from and into something else.

She could relate to her father’s assessment.

After all, she had felt the loss of her mother’s affection when she was little. Once Ashley had accepted that she would never be enough for the countess, and a constant disappointment, she’d found a way out. An escape, as her father would use the word. Back then, she had escaped into her father’s love and embrace. Now, she had the loss of Jordan, and she was escaping into vengeance.

But she wouldn’t exactly call it an obsession.

Which was why she couldn’t tell her father, even though she had never hidden anything from him before, what she had in store for Linsey. He was the only person in the world who could stop her from exacting retribution.

And she would listen to him.

But she didn’t want to.

Not with this.

Her vengeance would be sweet. It would also be bitter. And it all started tomorrow when she left London with the very man responsible for tearing her beloved from her proverbial embrace.

She almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

*

To Thomas’s surprise, Lady Ashley had been ready when he came to pick her up. He’d chosen the landau for the occasion. It wasn’t his finest carriage but certainly the sensible choice for an extended journey with a near stranger. He wanted to assure this stranger’s comfort, since she’d be his wife after all.

Thomas stared at Lady Ashley, seated across from him.

His soon-to-be countess.

His wife.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He’d been mentally chastising himself for the fool he’d been to enter a wager with Paisley, fighting the lingering sensation that he’d come to realize how much he’d gambled away even if he won the wager. But now…other thoughts pierced his initial unease.

This was no longer between him and Paisley, but between him and Ashley now—if she went through with it. And that, he had to ensure, she would.

She was riveting.

She kept her gaze out of the window, and he couldn’t quite see her face fully under the ruched bonnet, but the shadows danced across her features, almost like a spell, and he feared the enchantment might spread to his very bones. He hated to admit it to himself, but he knew when he was in trouble. Lady Ashley was trouble.

She wore a dark-green dress that complemented her eyes. Two blonde locks escaped the coiffure under her bonnet, adding a hint of sweetness to her. He inwardly scoffed. Dainty she may be, but she was a woman of surprising strength. Her beauty was not the typical overt kind—it was a quieter, more bewitching allure, as if she carried a timeless grace that lingered in the air around her, capable of drawing him in without a single touch.

His gaze dropped to where she peeled off her gloves, picking at her nails. An unguarded gesture. One that belied her usual tart remarks.

She was nervous.

It pulled him in further, despite his better judgment.

And then there were her lips. He found his gaze locked there, momentarily captivated. She had the most enchanting mouth, lips full and pink, glistening from a tongue that darted out to moisten them.

“You are staring.”

Their eyes locked.

Thomas started, staring into twin pools of blue, clear as a summer sky after rain. He coughed behind his hand. “Would it be inappropriate to say I cannot help myself?” Because, truly, he couldn’t.

“Yes.”

He chuckled. She had a way to make him laugh with nothing but a one-syllable word. Yes, he thought to himself, she was more than her beauty.

He shifted in his seat. “Are you nervous?” He sure was.

A snort answered him.

So, not nervous, then.

“Are you afraid? Not even a little?”

Her brow arched. “Of what? You?”

Well… Yes, and no. “Our future, I suppose.”

She cocked her head to the side, her gaze probing his. “I’m not. Are you scared, perhaps?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Thomas said gruffly. “An earl and the daughter of an earl. Soon there’ll be heirs and spares, and what’s not to be thankful for?” Suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach, worried and nervous all at once. The abstract ideas of matrimony and a family were suddenly so much less abstract with her looking at him, his fiancée. “I’m as happy as a peach.”

She laughed, the sound light and teasing. “I imagine peaches aren’t very happy, seeing as they get eaten.”

Thomas swallowed hard, doing his best to keep his mind from exploding at the spectacular imagery that saucy comment provoked. But no, he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “Peaches,” he said smoothly, “are happy to serve as the succulent fruits they are.”

“Succulent, you say? I wouldn’t know,” she said tartly. “I’ve never particularly enjoyed peaches.” She leaned in, her voice softening as if sharing a secret. “Tell me, Thomas, are you an expert on such delights?”

His pulse stuttered for a moment, but he managed to keep his composure, his gaze holding hers. “Naturally. A gentleman ought to be well-versed in his fruit.”

“Fruits are important, yes.”

Hers were like large oranges, perfect fistfuls.

Control yourself, Thomas!

His cravat suddenly felt tight, and he tugged at it. “Just as vegetables. Very healthy.” Just like her breasts, he imagined.

Wait, what did he just say? He gave another tug. Vegetables were on the safer side of temptation—they weren’t tempting at all—and with her, nothing ever seemed quite safe.

But then, she was saucy, just like a peach.

A peach with a big question mark. “Lady Ashley, if I may be so bold, is there a particular reason you agreed to a hasty marriage?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “What reasons do you mean?”

He coughed, his throat suddenly dry. “For instance, whether you, um, still possess your virtue.”

Her eyes flew wide, revealing the whites around her striking aquamarine-colored irises. For a moment, silence stretched between them, the rattle of the carriage wheels the only sound accompanying them. Then she blurted, “ Excuse me? Why would you ask me such a thing?”

“I—” Hell and damnation. He himself didn’t know why he’d asked such a deuced thing. He just couldn’t understand why she’d chosen him, and why she agreed so quickly to a hasty marriage. Or perhaps, just perhaps, he wanted to find flaws in her reasoning because of his own reasons for doing the same thing. “My apologies.”

“Yes,” she muttered. “You should be sorry.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “I certainly never inquired about your virtue.”

Thomas froze, and it was his turn to open his eyes wide. Better not to touch that remark. Though, he couldn’t quite blame her. He didn’t press the matter, lest he wanted to be pressed. And he didn’t. Plus, he was an earl. He was expected to have a certain degree of experience. And he rather wished not to imply that he didn’t.

“I don’t care about such things,” Thomas clarified. “I am just curious about you.”

“That makes two of us, my lord.”

That made his pulse quicken.

She bit her lip. Bloody adorable.

There was something utterly disarming about the way Lady Ashley spoke—direct, with a hint of teasing that left him unsteady. She entirely unmoored him with one look. His gaze dropped to where she bit her lip, and he cursed himself for wondering just how often she bit it like that. Was it intentional, or did she truly not know the effect of that tiny action?

“Do you often leave men speechless?” he asked, quirking a brow. “Or is that reserved for the lucky few who find themselves trapped in a carriage with you?”

“Trapped?” She raised her chin, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Only those who believe themselves to be trapped, I suppose. And you are the only one.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I see. Then I must count myself fortunate. Though I fear my wits may not be on par with yours,” he finished dryly.

“Your modesty is refreshing, my lord,” she quipped. “Quite different from the grand tales I’ve heard.”

“Grand tales?” How could that be? His brow lifted in amusement. There was nothing grand about his daily life. “What exactly have you heard, Lady Ashley? Should I be concerned?”

Her lips twitched. “Oh, nothing that would alarm a man of such noble character. Just the usual gossip—something about a wild stallion and a wager.”

He coughed instantly to feign innocence. Had she heard something? He didn’t want her to know this. Not yet. Not while their relationship could still be considered fragile. “That hardly narrows it down. I’ve made many wagers, most of them unwise.” This was no different than other peers of the realm, was it?

“Most wagers are.”

He studied her. “Have you never made a wager before?”

“Oh, I’m not the wagering type, my lord. But if I were, and if I were to make a wager right now,” her eyes sparkled at him, “I’d wager you’ve never met a woman like me.”

Thomas chuckled, leaning back in his seat as the carriage jostled over a bump. “And I’d wager you might be right.”

A faint scent of jasmine from her gloves wafted through the air, mingling with the musty aroma of the carriage, a comforting layer that Thomas inhaled deeply. His body couldn’t help but react.

The wedding night suddenly blasted through his mind.

Ah, hell.

Obviously, his loins had sent a clear message that his head tried to ignore.

But it wasn’t just that.

Something in him recoiled at the thought of a cold, dutiful marriage, the kind so many of his forebears had endured. He wanted more—needed more. Passion, perhaps. Even love.

Don’t be foolish, Thomas.

At the very least affection.

Mutual affection.

Having his future bride with him alone in the carriage was wreaking havoc with both body and head. He shifted uncomfortably.

Horses. Just think about horses.

Horses were easier than women.

They required little more than an understanding of their language—a skill Thomas had mastered with both ease and passion. Lady Ashley was a puzzle yet unraveled, each uncertain smile, the gentle play of her fingers in her lap, a riddle so unlike the scorecards of courtship games.

Thomas had ridden more horses than women but rather feared that Lady Ashley would tame him like he did a wild French stallion.

Wait, no.

Thoughts of horses were not helping.

The carriage hit a sudden rut, jolting them both from their seats. Before he could react, Lady Ashley was thrown forward, tumbling against him. His arms wrapped around her instinctively, and for a moment, time seemed to still. Her breath, quickened and warm, teased his neck.

Her eyes met his, wide with surprise, and then…something else. A glint of mischievousness, and maybe even a trace of amusement. Instead of pulling away, she stayed where she’d landed—pressed against him in a way that felt both improper and entirely scandalous.

Perfect.

She grinned at him, stunning him into a gaze.

Everything else vanished, and he tightened his hold, his body reacting in ways his mind scolded him for, but he drowned out all reason. There was nothing happening he couldn’t answer for. They were already engaged to be married.

The sweet scent of jasmine cloaked him.

This might have started as a bet, but…

I’ll take care of you, Ashley. When you fall, I’ll catch you.

As if reading his thoughts, she exhaled softly, her lips curving even more, pushing the smile into her eyes. It was the kind of look that could undo a man entirely.

It undid him.