Page 30 of Surrender to the Earl (Brides of Redemption #2)

B efore dinner the next day, Audrey waited in the drawing room for Blythe, feeling chilled from the dreary, misty rain that had fallen all day.

She may not have been able to see it, but the steady patter of rain was like someone strumming every last nerve.

The dampness seemed to seep into the house.

She’d been warm in Molly’s bedroom, where Molly had begun to write the invitations for the new annual tenants’ feast. It would take several days to do, since Molly still needed to rest after an hour of writing.

But since Audrey had come downstairs, she’d begun to shiver.

With a sudden determination to prove that she wasn’t helpless, she knelt before the hearth and felt the empty coal grate.

There was a bucket of coal nearby, and plenty of kindling.

So she began to pile the kindling, and with a match, encouraged a steady flame, feeling the heat with her hands, trying to judge it.

The kindling had to be hot enough to spark the coal.

Eventually she shoveled on small coal chips and waited for their ignition, feeling even that little bit of warmth.

“So you’re doing the work of your servants now?” Robert suddenly asked.

She gave a start and had to put out a hand to keep from toppling into the coal grate. “My word, Robert, what happened to our signals?”

“I didn’t think we ever settled on one.”

“There was that handy invention, the knock,” she said dryly.

But even as she tried to be calm and sarcastic and oh so above it all, her heart pounded at the sound of his voice, and she felt all warm and happy inside.

Oh, this wasn’t good. She was getting too caught up in him, too used to his help, his presence, his sensual attention.

She swallowed. “I didn’t want to bother the servants as they prepared for dinner. I tried to do this myself.”

“Not bad,” he said, coming to stand above her.

She could almost feel the warmth of him, the vibrancy, as he stood beside her, his limbs so near.

“I think the coal chips are hot enough to add larger. Shall I?”

“No,” she said, taking up the little shovel again, and by the sensation of warmth, adding more large pieces. She heard a few fall off, but that didn’t matter. At last, she stood up, dusting her hands against each other, knowing she would have to wash up before dinner. “How was London?”

“Still rather sparse. But your sister seemed to put word in the right ears, for everywhere I went, people asked about our engagement. You are the mysterious woman no one has ever met, and you swept aside my normal soldier’s caution.”

“Powerful, aren’t I?” But she couldn’t help her laughter.

“One of my distant cousins wanted to host an engagement party.”

Her laughter died. “Oh, my. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s the first time we’ve ever taken notice of each other. And, of course, I am an earl, and to host such an event would be quite the accomplishment.”

“You’re so cynical. Perhaps he just wants to get to know you, since you’ve been gone nine years.”

“Maybe.”

She heard his approach, and suddenly, she wanted to forestall however he might attempt to weaken her senses. “The servants tried another little trick.”

“Doing what?” he asked flatly.

“They said there was no milk for breakfast, that the dairymaid had been having problems with our cows.”

“Audrey—”

“So I went out to the dairy barn myself, only to hear that the dairymaid had sent in the pails before dawn, as she did every morning.”

“Damn those Sanfords.”

She laughed. “I’m starting to find it all amusing. So I told them they must have misplaced the pails, and please make certain I had some at lunch. They’ll have to try harder than that.”

“You almost sound like you’re enjoying this little competition.”

“It’s a challenge I mean to win.”

“Hold still,” he suddenly said, from much closer.

She gave a little gasp as he cupped her face with one hand, and used the thumb of his other to wipe down her cheek.

“Coal dust,” he murmured.

He didn’t move away, and she stood there, her face so warm, cradled in the strength of his rough hand. Without even knowing what she meant to do, she slid her hands up his chest, then neck, until she felt his rough cheeks.

“Let me see you,” she whispered.

“Of course,” was his hoarse answer. “But how?”

“Like this.”

Beneath her exploring fingers, his cheekbones were high and proud, and the hollows below showed his lean face.

His chin was square and blunt, and his lips, which had felt soft against hers, had a full lower lip, and a more narrow upper.

His nose was as lean as the rest of his face, with a little bump near the bridge.

“You broke your nose?”

“Not all by myself.”

She smiled, even as she continued her exploration. She was gentle moving over his closed eyelids, felt the blunt, manly shape of his brow and the silkiness of his hair falling forward over it.

“You are very handsome,” she murmured, still letting her fingers trail through his hair above his ears, then sliding back over his scalp and to his neck again.

“Can you imagine what I look like, from a simple touch?” he asked.

“I think so. But I’ve always been able to imagine you. It’s your voice, so very evocative, so … different.”

Robert didn’t have to imagine at all. He could drink in the beauty of her, even as he held her face in his hands. Her full moist lips were meant for his kisses, and those eyes might not see him, but they decorated her face with golden light, the light of her gentle spirit within.

He kissed her then, each of them holding the other’s face, their bodies swaying against each other, each brush of her breasts against his chest sending a hot wave of desire straight to his groin.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

He lifted his head to see Miss Collins standing in the doorway, her gaze taking them in before turning aside.

Audrey stepped away so quickly, he had to grab her to make sure she didn’t send her skirt sweeping across the coal grate.

“I’m not going to fall,” she said crossly, her face red with embarrassment.

“I—I should have knocked,” Miss Collins said, “but the door was open.”

Robert gave her a smile. “It was simply the kiss of an engaged couple who’d been separated too long.”

“I’m sorry three days was too long for you,” Audrey said with faint amusement.

He grinned down at her. “It was too long for you, too.”

Miss Collins frowned as she stepped farther into the room. “Audrey, what is that dirt across your skirt?”

Audrey winced. “It must be coal dust.”

“Did you fall into the hearth?” Miss Collins asked, her voice rising in worry.

“Not at all. I started the coal fire myself and couldn’t see where I knelt.”

“But that is the servants’ duty,” Miss Collins said in bewilderment.

“And I can do it almost as well. I enjoyed the challenge.”

“And the dirt?” her sister continued.

“I don’t always have to be a burden,” Audrey said, brushing past Robert and heading toward her sister. “Excuse me while I change.”

“I never said you were a burden,” Miss Collins called.

To her credit, she sounded forlorn. Perhaps there really was hope for Audrey and her sister to become closer.

Miss Collins came back inside and went to the window, looking out as if she could find the answers to all her problems in the misty rain. Or else not wanting to face him.

“Lord Knightsbridge, did you get wet on your ride over?” she finally asked.

“My cloak kept the worst from me. And I’m used to dealing with the weather.”

“Ah, I had almost forgotten. Was there even snow in India?”

“Worse snow than England usually sees, at least in the mountains of Afghanistan.”

The silence lengthened again.

“What do you think of this situation with the staff?” Robert asked in a low voice.

Miss Collins glanced at him over her shoulder. “You mean their furtive behavior? It’s almost as if they meant to hide the baby from us. Considering they don’t know of Audrey’s grief after her own died, it doesn’t make sense.”

He must have gaped at her, for her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth.

“She never told you,” Miss Collins whispered. “Oh, heavens, what have I done but reveal secrets that weren’t mine to reveal?”

“She lost a baby?” It was as if the earth moved under his feet, changing everything he ever thought he could do for her. “Tell me.”

“But I shouldn’t?—”

“You already did, and unless you want me to tell her exactly where I found out, you will finish explaining this to me.” He walked toward her, each syllable emphasized with his footfalls.

Miss Collins squeezed her eyes shut. “It must have been too painful for her to speak of. She grieved far worse for the baby than she ever did for her husband.”

“She was with child when he left.”

She nodded, her head bobbing even as the first tear spilled down her cheek.

“Tell me everything,” he ordered, in the voice he used when he expected to be obeyed.

Miss Collins swallowed. “She found out just after Mr. Blake left. After word of his death, she went into labor early and the babe was born dead. A little boy …” She trailed off for a moment, then seemed to rally as she looked him in the eye.

“My father was relieved. His attitude … it sickened me. I admit I was uncertain about Audrey’s ability to raise a child, and there are always those who believe a blind woman could also give birth to a blind baby, but …

her grief was terrible to witness, and for some time, I worried over the state of her health and mind. ”

Robert found himself sitting down heavily in a chair, his hands moving through his hair to clasp his bent neck as he stared at the floor. Miss Collins’s words pounded into him as if they were blows landed from a boxer.

“I think this house saved her, in some sense. She began to concentrate on Rose Cottage, and her future independence, and even when Father refused to permit her departure, she never gave up.”

She paused a long moment, as if waiting for him to speak, but he had no words.

“She must not have wanted your pity,” Miss Collins continued in a low voice.