Page 34 of Surrender to the Earl (Brides of Redemption #2)

A s Rose Cottage came into sight the next day, Robert rode with even more determination. He damn well wasn’t going to cool his heels another day, regardless of what Audrey thought she wanted.

Because she was wrong.

He understood that she was frightened, that Blake had hurt her terribly—that Robert had, too, helping to cause the death of her husband and her unborn child.

But he damn well wasn’t trying to control her, and he was offended she thought he was. Touching her, pleasuring her, had been one of the best experiences of his life—and she’d tried to turn it into something sordid.

He intended to show her she was far from the truth. Somehow he would convince her that they should be together.

When Francis let him into the entrance hall, he thought the young man looked a bit pale and didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes.

“Please wait in the drawin’ room, milord,” Francis said. “I’ll tell Mrs. Blake ye’ve arrived.”

She made him wait a long time, and when at last she swept in, as regal as a queen in flower-sprigged white muslin, indignation still hid behind her cool expression.

To his surprise, he had to mightily resist the urge to sweep her into his arms, to take up where they had left off, to prove to her with his body that they belonged together.

“Lord Knightsbridge,” she said, hands clasped before her. “I didn’t think I would see you for at least another day.”

Using formal titles, was she? “Good morning, Audrey.”

She only bowed her head.

Clenching his jaw, he plunged on. “I thought the invitation from Lady Flitcroft would change your mind.”

Her expression shifted to one of confusion. “Invitation? I received none.”

It was his turn to be confused. “Why would I receive an invitation from a woman I’ve never met, if it wasn’t because of my engagement to you? She can’t simply be attempting to move up a social circle.”

“The woman is incredibly shy. I had tea with her several days ago.” Then she hesitated, and an expression of understanding briefly crossed her face. “Excuse me for a moment.”

He was left standing there alone, but not for long. Her sister ducked inside almost furtively, staying near the door.

“Good morning, Miss Collins,” he said.

“Please call me Blythe, my lord.”

“And you shall call me Robert, since you will soon be my sister.”

She arched a brow. “That’s not what Audrey tells me, but I would not believe you right for her if you didn’t have confidence in yourself.”

“She told you she’d changed her mind about marrying me?” he asked, not surprised, but only further convinced of the rightness of his cause.

She lowered her voice. “She told me it was never an engagement at all. I just want to tell you not to give up, that I believe she doesn’t know her own mind.”

He slowly smiled, hope swelling his chest like pride. “Thank you for the encouragement.”

She nodded, then peered over her shoulder. “I must go!” She ran across the hall and ducked into the dining room.

A moment later, Audrey returned. “I discovered that Lady Flitcroft was given the impression by her servants that I would not attend a dinner.”

“Who would do that?”

“My servants. But we have come to an understanding. I discovered what was going on, confronted them, and we are now going forward with trust.”

He frowned. “There is a lot you’re not telling me.”

“You’re not my fiancé, Robert. I only have to tell you what I feel you need to know.”

He fisted a hand in frustration against his thigh, then let it go.

This little war between them would be a series of skirmishes, not one large battle.

And he could be a patient man. “Very well, then back to this evening’s dinner party.

Will you be my guest, and show your neighbors that you’re perfectly capable of eating a meal with them? ”

She hesitated, not very successful at hiding her warring feelings. He could tell she wanted to attend but also wanted to distance herself from him. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Very well, I accept your invitation.”

“Then if you don’t mind, I will ask Francis to press my attire for the evening.”

“You were so confident, you brought a valise?” she demanded.

“I knew you wouldn’t make me ride all the way home regardless. Now is there a way I can be of assistance today?”

“No, thank you. Pretend you’re a guest. Perhaps Mr. Sanford will take you hunting.”

“Or you and I could fish together.”

“Fish?” She wrinkled her nose. “I have a feast to plan for my tenants. Please excuse me.”

“Wait.” He caught her arm.

She froze, her head tilted down as if she was frowning at his touch.

He didn’t let her go, only leaned down until his mouth was almost against the hair near her ear, and he could smell the scent of roses. “I cannot forget how you felt in my arms, how you tasted, how you found your pleasure with me.”

He felt her shudder, knew with relief that she wasn’t unaffected.

“Robert, you must stop trying to force me to feel more for you than I want to feel.”

She pulled her arm free, and he let her go.

“I don’t have to force any emotion from you, Audrey. It’s simply there, just as it is for me.”

“But that doesn’t mean I wish to act on it. Pleasure is fleeting, but pain and grief never go away, nor do regrets from impulsive actions.”

He stood still long after she was gone, reflecting on the truth of her words in his own life. He regretted so many things he’d done, wished desperately that Audrey hadn’t born the brunt of those impulsive mistakes.

But he couldn’t wish that all of the past hadn’t led him to this moment. She’d become central to his life, and that realization seemed monumental, mystifying. He didn’t want to lose her.

Robert told himself to be patient. He’d known she wouldn’t fall into his arms due to her own pride and the grief that must surely have threatened to overwhelm her.

But he’d been hoping for a spark of longing, the one that had kept him up all night, hot and unsatisfied and desperate to have more of her.

It had been there, that answering spark, even though she wished it gone. Patience.

That evening, Audrey sat in the Collins’s carriage beside Blythe, her head tilted away from Robert, who was seated across from them. She kept accidentally brushing against his big feet, his lower limbs, and just the touch made her blush and be grateful for the low lantern light.

She’d been nervous all afternoon as Molly had helped her dress, even nestling tiny pearls in her hair. But she hadn’t paid attention to her gown and didn’t even realize it might look different until Blythe had earlier given a little gasp and waxed enthusiastic about how wonderful she looked.

And then Audrey had happened to touch the bodice, and realized it had a lower décolletage than she remembered, and suddenly knew impudent Molly had been busy with her sewing needle. She’d been about to run back up to her room to change, but Blythe had insisted they’d all be late.

Thankfully, Robert hadn’t remarked on her gown, except to say that she was lovely, but she was very conscious of every draft, and kept her cloak firmly closed from the moment she’d donned it.

Why had she never noticed how much room Robert took up in the carriage?

“We’re almost there,” Blythe said at last. “I can see the house lit up within the trees. Very pretty.”

“Very countrified,” Audrey amended dryly. “I know you have seen many more grand homes in London.”

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the care a family takes with their home and their pride being able to entertain their neighbors.”

Audrey barely kept from gaping. Was this mature young woman truly her sister?

For after they arrived, Blythe remained at her side, commenting quietly on things that happened, making certain she knew every raised stair in her path, every person in the drawing room who was brought forward to be introduced.

Audrey was no fool—Robert was the main draw here, the earl returned from foreign wars a hero, so rich and powerful and handsome.

And she could not miss how kind he was to everyone, how he downplayed himself in favor of learning about every guest, how he never failed to include her in each conversation.

When a young man tried to draw a resisting Blythe away to talk, Audrey had insisted she go, knowing Robert would assist her and not cause her any disappointment.

Not here in public, anyway.

He was gracious throughout the meal, making sure he sat at her side, but she’d already ruined Lady Flitcroft’s seating arrangements just by her unexpected attendance.

The lady herself, so soft-spoken, seemed to sincerely regret that she hadn’t given more thought to their comfort—to the needs of a blind woman, Audrey knew, but she understood and took no offense.

In fact, she was grateful. Every hostess took care of her guests’ needs, whatever they might be.

She wasn’t so special, being blind. She was becoming used to the thought that people would watch her every move.

Robert told her where everything was placed on her plate, as if he’d been paying close attention at each meal they’d shared.

After dinner, the guests returned to the drawing room, where the rugs had been rolled back, and the furniture pushed against the walls—or so Robert told her.

“Find me a suitable chair, Robert, and you go ask the ladies to dance. They will be thrilled.”

“I don’t wish to be gotten rid of so easily. Did you never learn to dance?”

She hesitated, feeling a momentary excitement that she quickly dismissed out of habit. “I had some formal training for a few months before my blindness, but that was all.”

Audrey hadn’t realized Blythe was nearby until her sister said, “Do not listen to her, Robert. She and Mama used to dance together all the time. I would watch them.”

“Blythe,” Audrey said in warning tones.

“Oh please, the musicians are warming up a waltz. Robert can guide you through it. Surely they waltzed at parties in India?”