Page 12 of Surrender to the Earl (Brides of Redemption #2)

And then they turned the full force of their enthusiasm on him.

“Please meet my daughters, Lord Knightsbridge,” Lady Paley said with proud formality. “Miss Rachel Paley and Miss Rosalind Paley. Girls, meet the Earl of Knightsbridge, here in our own home!”

Both young women were tall and coltish like their father, almost meeting Robert in height. It must be difficult to find husbands, but his presence unquestionably put that worry right out of their minds.

He smiled politely, then took Audrey’s arm. “May my fiancée rest before dinner? It’s been a long day.”

Surely the coachman had already told them of Audrey’s status, but their faces looked like he’d slapped them with the reminder. He saw Audrey holding back a smile. She’d come in handy—and she knew it.

By the time dinner was served, the Paley family had calmed down, eager to show off their lovely china and silver place settings.

In the middle of an awkward pause, as the family tried not to stare at Audrey eating, Sir Miles said, “You’ve been long gone from England, my lord, but not on the Grand Tour other young noblemen take. Why the army?”

It was a personal question at the same time as it was an obvious one. He’d answered it with Audrey and her father, but he saw that she was still very interested, by the way her head was tilted toward him. Had she sensed there was more?

And suddenly he flashed back, to when he’d heard Stephen Kepple was dead by his own hand, the stunned, sick feelings that had tightened his gut, the first realization of guilt.

He’d wondered if it had been his fault Kepple was dead, even as others told him that Kepple was never strong enough for the risky investments he’d gotten involved in.

It was Robert’s fault Kepple was even involved, for he’d pretended to be the man’s friend, all to get his participation in the early railway deal.

And when it had gone bad, everyone had lost money.

He would never know if Kepple had realized he’d been manipulated into joining, or if the man had foolishly risked too much of his own money.

But none of that mattered, for Robert had discovered he was a controlling bully, just like his father.

And he’d had to find a way to change himself, before he had no friends and no self-respect, which had already taken a terrible blow.

The army had helped him before it was too late.

Could he say that to the waiting Paley family? No. But he could say part of the truth, and perhaps Audrey would be appeased as well.

“There was a retired army colonel in our village while I was growing up,” he said at last. “Originally he helped my tutor teach me history before I went off to Eton, but it was his own stories that I found the most fascinating. He’d been at Waterloo and other famous battles.

Everyone respected him, and he knew he’d contributed much to the protection of England.

I wanted to feel that way. I was only twenty when my father died, and even though I reached my majority within the year, I never felt like I was the earl. ”

“Your father’s shadow was long,” Sir Miles said, nodding with understanding. “It is difficult to follow a great man.”

Robert only nodded. It wasn’t difficult to follow his father—it was all too easy to become him.

He felt ashamed at the thought of his military mentor knowing about the men who’d died because of his rash decisions.

“I learned loyalty and duty in the army, and I became a man. There were triumphs and there were sorrows, but I don’t regret many. ”

He glanced at Audrey. Some, he thought. I regret some.

And now here he was, supposedly engaged to a woman who swore she never wanted to marry again.

But he’d seen her expression when that baby had wailed at the coaching inn.

Didn’t all women wish to be mothers? Or did she think a blind woman shouldn’t give birth, and that was another reason she swore never to marry?

They all retired to the parlor together, where the daughters took turns at the piano to show off their skills, and never once did their hosts direct much of their conversation toward Audrey.

Robert had had it. “Please allow me the pleasure of introducing you to my fiancée’s talents at the piano.”

Audrey blinked those lovely amber eyes at him. “My lord?—”

“She is very shy, you must understand,” he confided to the Paleys. “But you’ll soon see that she’s wrong to be worried about her musical skill.”

The family looked ready to wince, so their shock as she played the first measure was satisfying to behold.

But it wasn’t until they were in the carriage the next day that Audrey let him know what she thought of his own performance.

“Robert, you did not ask me if I wanted to play the piano for the Paley family.”

“Of course I did,” he said, smiling.

“No, you offered my performance without giving me any say at all.”

His smile died as he took in her cool tone of voice, and the way Molly deliberately looked out the window.

“I am not a trained monkey that you can bring out and have perform on command,” she continued sternly.

“I wanted them to see the accomplished young woman you are, not the invalid they all assume. Every young lady performs—are they trained monkeys, too?”

“Of course not.”

“As an earl, I am often on display,” he asked.

“I grew up watching commoners deal with my father with some awe. Then I was in the military, where only the experience of my rank and what I’d learned on the battlefield mattered to my men.

And now I’m back in Society, where my title alone lets a family push their daughters at me, and ignore you.

So do you not think I sometimes have the right to use my title? ”

She sighed. “I can grasp your point. But I’m not sure I agree with it.”

After that, the day passed slowly, with some tension, as rain drummed on the roof above their heads and made the roads turn muddy. Even Audrey seemed to grow weary of Molly’s descriptions of the same rain-drenched gardens, and the chessboard that was the hedgerowed countryside.

That night, they registered at an inn, which had decent accommodations, especially for an earl, as the owner kept repeating in a groveling tone.

Once in his room, Robert wasn’t even tired as he paced and listened to Molly, through thin walls, describe in detail their room, the paces separating pieces of furniture.

When he heard Audrey stumble and laugh at herself, he could only be impressed. Next, Molly read a book aloud.

He ruminated on his earlier conversation with Audrey, where he’d actually complained about the perils of being an earl to a blind woman.

Not only did he have wealth and power, he had the ability to do anything he wished.

Had he thought the military had shown him all he had to learn?

No, there was still so much of life he took for granted, and a blind woman was showing him that.

If they were actually to marry, their quarrels could worsen. She might resent him for being able to do all the things she couldn’t, or he might resent her for slowing him down, or making him defensive. Or was he just trying to remind himself he didn’t have to worry about such a choice?

Angry with himself, he lay back in the bed and covered his eyes with his forearm.

Audrey was almost ready for bed. She was wearing her dressing gown over her nightdress, and Molly had already brushed her hair out.

There were two small beds on parallel walls, a table and two chairs, a chest of drawers, and a washstand.

Audrey had paced among the furnishing several times, until she was comfortable.

Now she could hear Molly at the washstand, humming softly to herself as she often did.

But Audrey wasn’t tired, though she told Molly to blow out the candle.

She kept pacing, remembering Robert’s description of why he’d entered the military.

She’d known for certain he was leaving things out.

What about the man who’d killed himself?

How did that all fit in? She would have given anything to ask, but not in front of the Paley family.

Her thoughts were disturbed by a brisk knock at the door.

Before Audrey could even speak, Molly said, “Surely it could only be Lord Knightsbridge.”

“Perhaps we should ask?—”

But then she heard Molly open the door, a startled gasp, and the sound of something heavy hitting the wooden floor.

“Molly?” Audrey cried.

No one answered, though someone breathed heavily. The bolt slid home with a thump to lock them in. She slowly backed away, even as the first fear raised gooseflesh up her spine.

A chair skittered suddenly, and she heard a mild oath. A man’s voice, but not Robert’s. A thief! She started to shake, but she focused her mind. Had the intruder tripped? Then she remembered that the candle was out, and he couldn’t see.

The back of her legs hit the bed, and she dropped to her knees, hoping the man wouldn’t detect her location.

He was moving around in the dark. “Where are ye, wench?” he crooned. “I just want yer gold. Give it to me, and I’ll let ye go. I don’t hurt cripples.”

She didn’t believe that. Crawling very slowly toward the nightstand, she silently cursed her dressing gown as it tangled around her thighs.

She froze when she heard a board creak nearby, felt the breeze of his passing, but he was heading toward the other bed—Molly’s bed.

Oh, God, let her dear friend be all right, she silently prayed.

At last she reached the nightstand, and using her hand to feel along the top, she discovered the book Molly had been reading from, a hairbrush—and at last the candleholder, which felt solid.

Lifting it carefully, she brought it to her lap, and yanked out the candle itself, setting it beneath the bed.

The other bed was shaken violently, then thumped against the floor, as if the intruder searched on top and beneath it for her. What was she supposed to do? If he came at her, she could wave her candlestick about and hope she hit him, but she couldn’t plan her own attack.

And then suddenly she remembered that Robert was right next door, the shared wall behind her bed. But if she screamed, the thief would know exactly where she was.

She had to take a chance.

Coming up on her knees, she slammed the candleholder into the wall above her bed, hoping to mislead him, then rolled away toward the table and chairs. The thief swore and stomped toward her.