Page 6 of Surrender to the Earl (Brides of Redemption #2)

T he next morning, Robert walked the fields with the other men toward the marsh at the far end of the park, where they were supposed to find plenty of birds to shoot.

The grass crunched beneath their feet from the frozen damp overnight.

The sun was just rising, casting its rays through the brilliant foliage of a copse of trees ahead.

A half dozen beaters had already gone in front, waiting for a signal to drive the birds toward them.

Robert couldn’t keep his mind on what he was about to do, though he held his gun with well-trained caution.

He was remembering Mrs. Blake’s performance last night, and he still could not forget how impressed and awed he’d been.

His bookish youth had made him familiar with the works of Chopin, and he knew the ballade she’d chosen to play was considered one of the most technically difficult.

And yet she’d memorized it without ever reading the sheet music.

Seeing her with her eyes closed and her expression suffused with peaceful joy, one could almost forget she was blind.

He’d looked around and seen the other men’s faces show surprise and reluctant delight.

Lord Collins’s expression was far more inscrutable, and his son’s simply impassive.

But Miss Collins? She did not like to be upstaged and surely knew she had been.

Perhaps that was why Mrs. Blake chose not to sing.

It would have only pointed out even more strongly who was the more talented of the sisters.

Robert hoped his request for Mrs. Blake to play hadn’t further distanced her from her family. It was simply that he’d been annoyed at seeing her relegated to a corner alone, like a dotty old lady.

If she had wanted to show him her family situation, it was working. In less than twenty-four hours, he was already defensive on her behalf.

And he was also full of regret that he’d brought up the subject of his brother, Neil.

They were only two years apart, and they should have been close, but their father had been a firm believer in raising up his sons to be competitive.

Their tutor had taken that one step further and set them against one another to “spark their competitiveness.” All it did was ruin their relationship, and made Robert retreat into his books.

When Neil had died, Robert became the focus of their father’s fanatic need to control everything around him.

And so he had to follow him around day after day whenever he was home for holidays, learning the man’s obsessive methods for controlling his estates, watching other men cower to his father’s bullying.

Only one man could not be cowed, and that was a retired military officer who lived in their village.

Robert would often seek him out to hear his adventures—which was probably why he bought a commission himself, when he felt himself turning into his father.

Robert was glad when they arrived at the pond and the beaters had begun their work.

Birds took flight, and he aimed and shot.

Some men had a servant reload one gun while they shot another, but Robert reloaded quickly by himself.

Birds plummeted from the sky, and dogs brought them back without taking a single bite.

Several hours later, as they walked back toward the manor carrying bags of birds for the evening meal, Robert happened to glance down another path, and to his surprise, he saw Mrs. Blake walking with a plainly garbed woman. The sainted lady’s maid?

Since he was already at the back of the small group of men, he simply turned down the path toward Mrs. Blake.

She was far enough away that he had time to watch her move, still without the aid of a cane.

She kept her head high, as if smelling crisp air redolent with recently picked apples and hearth fires.

“I’m sorry my sister distracted you, Knightsbridge.”

Robert turned his head to find Edwin Collins catching up with him. “Not a bit. I thought I’d say good morning.”

“It was foolish for her to be out when we’re shooting,” Collins said, his breath huffing. “She could have been hurt.”

Robert almost pointed out that she wasn’t anywhere near the pond, but he let Collins pull ahead of him and draw Mrs. Blake aside. The man spoke intently for several minutes, while Mrs. Blake’s expression remained impassive. The other woman, red-faced, looked off as if she wasn’t listening.

At last Collins strode back toward his friends, pausing to give Robert a look. Obviously realizing he had no say in what Robert did, he only gave an impatient nod and strode away.

The servant said something to Mrs. Blake, and her head came up quickly as he approached.

“Forgive me, Lord Knightsbridge,” she said coolly. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I heard nothing, Mrs. Blake. It simply looked like a brother and sister conversing.” But he knew he’d seen a warning. Apparently only Miss Collins was allowed to consort with their guests.

She gave a grim smile. “That is kind of you.” Her expression eased and she turned her head slightly toward her servant. “This is my lady’s maid, Molly. Molly, the Earl of Knightsbridge.”

It wasn’t often a woman introduced a peer to her servant; he admired that about her.

Molly sank into a deep curtsy and her blush emphasized her freckles. “Good morning, milord.”

He smiled at her. “The two of you make quite a sight on an early morning.”

Molly bit her lip, even as Mrs. Blake asked dryly, “You mean like Punch and Judy?”

He laughed. “Not at all. It is inspiring to see you out and about, without even a cane. I hope my admiration isn’t offensive.”

“It is not, my lord,” she said at last, a faint smile curving her lips.

“May I walk with you?”

“You may.”

He took her arm and placed it on his, and she seemed surprised.

“I know you can walk unassisted, but there is something about an autumn morn with a lovely woman on your arm that a man can’t resist.”

“You are a charmer, my lord,” she said, shaking her head.

Molly fell behind them as they began to walk toward the garden, giving them enough room to speak privately.

“You don’t need to treat me like this,” Mrs. Blake said at last.

He glanced down at her in surprise. “Like what?”

“Like you’re flirting with me. We both know you’re playing a part.”

“I am so glad you see through to what you think I’m doing.”

She gave a soft laugh.

“This isn’t a part I’m playing, Mrs. Blake,” he said, his voice a bit more serious. “I wanted to get to know you and your family. I’m doing so, am I not?”

“You are,” she admitted with obvious reluctance.

“Do I make you uncomfortable—or cause you problems with your family?” he added, more to the point.

“I am not uncomfortable—simply unused to being brought to people’s attention. There are some benefits to being invisible.”

“Invisible,” he mused, keeping his voice light although he felt a stir of anger on her behalf. “I often wished to be so when I served in the army. It makes one not a target.”

“Exactly. And now you’re home, taking up the responsibilities of the earldom, and I imagine you’re far more visible than you’re used to.”

“Perceptive, Mrs. Blake. Then we have something in common.” They strolled in silence for a moment as they entered one of the garden’s gravel paths.

The last daisies were dying, and other shrubbery had already been cut back.

“Mrs. Blake, I mean no offense, but your husband never once mentioned you were blind. And I can see now he must have thought you quite the normal woman, regardless of your?—”

“He was ashamed,” she interrupted, her voice matter-of-fact.

Not surprised, Robert said nothing, only gave her gloved hand a squeeze where it rested on his arm.

“You don’t need to show me sympathy, sir. I knew he did not love me. He only wanted my dowry.”

And he suspected she was eager enough to be away that she wasn’t too choosy.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She tilted her head as if she were looking up at him. “I hope I am not disillusioning you about your friend.”

“I left England at a young age, and he was several years my junior. We only became more acquainted in the Eighth Dragoons.”

“And that was only possible because of my dowry. It is how he purchased his commission. I didn’t know his plans until he left England the day after our wedding.”

Robert frowned. “That is a tragedy. I regret you had to suffer it.”

“I would not normally confide such private sorrow in a stranger, my lord, but you need to understand my dilemma.”

“I am understanding more and more each hour.”

“Good. Then I will ask you not to repeat my past marital difficulties.”

“Of course not.”

“Even with my family. My father warned me about Mr. Blake’s intentions from the beginning, and I didn’t want to listen. Reminding him of it only makes him repeat his warnings all over again.”

“About men in general?”

“About my suitability to marry. And though my father doesn’t believe me, I have taken my hard-earned lessons to heart. I don’t plan to marry again, ever.”

She spoke so firmly, flatly, that he knew she believed it. And Robert couldn’t blame her. It must be difficult to make oneself vulnerable, and then be so cruelly rejected.

“We all must react to our own lessons, Mrs. Blake,” he finally said.

“Even an earl? I imagine you’re permitted—anything.”

She sounded a bit intrigued, but he wasn’t going to satisfy her curiosity.

“Even an earl.”

They walked on in silence, taking the winding trails ever closer to the house, passing a fountain that sprayed a cold mist in the air.

“My lord, do you still have dead birds on your person?”

He shot her a glance. “I had forgotten.”

“I had, too, until I smelled them.”

He chuckled. “I’ll guide you up to the house, and then head for the kitchens.”

“Do not bother yourself on my behalf, my lord. I’ll finish my walk with Molly and see you at luncheon.”