The Earl's Bargain (Historical Regency Romance) (9 page)

"It will, indeed."

She fetched the map and spread it over the
top of the desk, then took pen and paper and began to list the
names of Cornish towns. "I shall attempt to put them in
alphabetical order," she said. "Bodmin. Boscastle. Cambourne. . .
"

Her list was drawn up in less than ten
minutes. And still he had not found a single peer who lived in any
of the cities. She scooted her chair closer to him and began to
peruse the information within the book. "Why do you not take the
even numbered pages, and I'll take the odd?"

Without removing his gaze from the page, he
nodded and moved the open book closer to her.

They read for another half hour until they
found a peer who hailed from Cornwall. "Lord Arundel!" Harry
exclaimed.

Louisa took her pen and wrote down his name
and seat.

Then they commenced reading again.

By the time they had finished, they had
discovered there were six lords residing in Cornwall.

Next, Harry took the map and studied it to
determine where each of the lords lived.

"Why do you need the map now?" she
asked.

"Because we'll just have to go find the
mysterious benefactor."

"We?"

"Yesterday," he said, "I told you I would
help you financially if you could help me to regain this house. I
am now ready to make a specific proposal to you, madam."

She cocked a thin brow.

"I am prepared to bestow on you a small home
and an annual pension for as long as I live. I want you to travel
to Cornwall with me and help me find the benefactor."

"But I can't possibly do that," she
protested.

"You are afraid of the impropriety of
traveling with a man?"

"Of course not," she countered. "But there's
Ellie to think of, and. . ." She withdrew her gaze from him and
stared into her lap. "Could we bring Ellie?"

"I see no reason why we couldn't."

"When would you want to go?" she asked.

"As soon as you can pack."

"But Jeremy Bentham's visit is but days
away."

"Is that more important than a lifetime free
of financial woes?"

She hesitated.

"Do you plan to take care of your sister
indefinitely, or does she return to your father's home?"

"She will never return there," Louisa
snapped, anger in her voice.

Why did she feel so strongly about keeping
her sister with her? "Then, may I suggest you think of your
sister's welfare. You certainly would not be able to make a home
for her if you had no funds."

God but he could barely make eye contact
with her. Her eyes were so soulful. There was another emotion in
the depths of those incredible eyes. Was it controlled anger? Why
would she be angry with him? He was merely trying to help her.

She lifted her chin defiantly.

He got to his feet. "Think on it tonight.
I'll be here with my travelling coach in the morning."

Minutes later Ellie came flying through the
door. She had gone out without her bonnet, and her face was flushed
from the sun. "Mr. Coke has agreed to come see Mr. Bentham speak!
Is that not wonderful news?"

Louisa looked at Ellie sympathetically. How
could she keep her poor sister away from Jeremy Bentham's talk? He
was growing old, and this might be Ellie's only chance to ever see
the great man.

That night sleep eluded Louisa. She wanted
the things Lord Wycliff offered, but could she really trust him? It
was not, either, right to force Ellie on a trip that would not only
take more than a week but would also prevent her from seeing Jeremy
Bentham.

She thought about leaving Ellie behind and
going to Cornwall alone with Lord Wycliff, but she did not think
being alone with the man for days on end would be a good thing,
especially since he had a most unsettling effect on her. Not to
mention that he was a man, and they were not trustworthy.

It was almost dawn when she made her
decision.

By the time a bright sun streamed through
her chamber window, Louisa was completely dressed in a traveling
costume and sat at her desk writing a note to Ellie.

My Pet,

I'm am sorry to say I've been called out of
town to attend to affairs dealing with Godwin's estate. I doubt if
I'll be back in time to see Mr. Bentham deliver his speech. Mr.
Coke will do me the goodness of escorting you to see Mr. Bentham,
and you must have Cook accompany you as chaperon. It wouldn't do to
tarnish your reputation. Mr. Coke, especially, would not care for
that at all. All my love.

Louisa

She dried the quill, then wrapped it in a
piece of old cloth and placed it in her portmanteau with the rest
of her things. Perhaps she could finish her essay on labor
unification during the journey that lay ahead.

She heard the wheels of a coach rattle on
the street below, and she lifted the bulky bag and carried it
downstairs.

Once she edged open the front door, Lord
Wycliff bounded up the two steps and relieved her of the bag. She
noted that he too was dressed for traveling. No silken finery
today, nor his ever-present black. Today he wore fawn colored
pantaloons with boots and a greatcoat.

He gave her bag to the coachman, who placed
it on top the carriage before he hopped opened the door for Louisa
and his master.

"Before we leave London," Louisa said, "I
beg that you impart to Mr. Coke the necessity of him escorting my
sister to see Mr. Bentham."

"I have already done so."

Her brows winged together. "How did you know
I didn't wish to bring her with me?"

"Because I knew you couldn't deprive her of
the pleasure of seeing Mr. Bentham."

She shot him an angry glance then lifted the
curtain to peer from the glass. Louisa didn't at all like the look
of the skies. Clouds were gathering, and rain seemed imminent.
Which would considerably slow their progress. It was cool, too.
Much colder than it had been in weeks.

Lord Wycliff handed her into the coach, and
she was pleased that he had provided a rug for her.

When he started to sit beside her, she
protested. "I think not, my lord. There are just the two of us. We
can each have our own seat for the journey."

"Ah," he said, sitting opposite of her,
"unlike me, you are thinking quite clearly this morning. I fear I
am a creature of habit."

"I trust you were up late last night reading
one of the books I provided for you," she said mischievously.

His black eyes sparkled. "To be sure." Then
he cocked his hat and slid down in his seat, giving every
appearance of a man taking a nap.

She knew so very little
about him. Had he really been up late reading her book, or had he
spent the night gaming and womanizing as other men of his class
did? From their rides at Hyde Park and from the ball at Lord
Seymour's, it was clear that Lord Wycliff was well known in
the
ton
, especially
among the women. Their unabashed flirting with him had given Louisa
a peculiar surge of pleasure that was not unconnected to
possessiveness.

Despite that she was tired this morning, she
continued to peer from the window. It had now begun to rain. The
streets quickly filled with mud and water and noxious odors. She
could not say that she would regret leaving behind this city with
its sooty skies and stinking air and pitiable creatures at every
turn.

She looked away from the sight of a small
boy who could not have been more than five years old but was alone
on the pavement, wearing shoes several sizes too large for his tiny
feet. The poor lad didn't even have a coat to shield him from the
day's cold.

She gathered the rug about her and grew
morose. Her thoughts, like the skies, turned melancholy. She knew
she must direct her energies even more potently toward helping
children like the lad she had just seen.

Perhaps she did need to continue living in
London. Once he got the information he desired, would Lord Wycliff
continue taking her to events where she could meet men of power?
Would he be true to his word and take his seat in Parliament in
order to promulgate the beliefs she had imparted to him? Or was his
interest feigned in order to gain what he wanted?

Again, Louisa realized she knew very little
about the man who reposed across from her, his long muscular legs
taking up a great deal of the inside of the carriage. She stared at
his solid thighs and realized they were nearly as big around as her
waist.

She took note of the quality of his well
tailored pantaloons and the workmanship of his boots. They were
obviously very expensive but not showy like something Godwin would
have worn. The difference between Lord Wycliff's class and Godwin's
aspirations to emulate it was as distinct as night from day.

However, that was not to say she liked the
peer. His worth had yet to be proven. Her approval would continue
to be withheld from him. After all, he was a man, and God knows
none of them were trustworthy.

By the time Lord Wycliff's coachman had paid
at the last London tollgate, the rain was falling onto the carriage
roof likes buckets being emptied. She felt terribly sorry for the
poor coachman, for in addition to the pounding rain, it had become
bitterly cold.

And through it all, Lord Wycliff slept.

Louisa was discovering the
rug, thick and tightly woven wool though it was, offered little
protection against the chill that seeped to her very bones.
How could Lord Wycliff sleep through such
discomfort
? Then she remembered her elder
brother, who had an unfortunate drinking problem. Frederick, after
a night of overindulging, was oblivious to everything. She
remembered the time Ellie had poured icy water on him in a vain
effort to awaken him for Sunday services. He had merely turned over
and continued snoring.

Could Lord Wycliff be sleeping one off? With
such thoughts ringing in her brain and her arms tucked under the
heavy rug, she finally did as Lord Wycliff. She drifted off to
sleep.

* * *

When Harry awoke, Louisa was asleep. He was
unable to remove his gaze from her. He had seen many beautiful
woman asleep beside him, but none compared to Louisa Phillips.
There was an innocence about her, not just because she was fair and
petite and young looking, but also because of the naivete of her
hopes for reform and because of her true compassion.

Which made him even more ashamed of his
deception. She was only now beginning to trust a man, and he was
about to turn around and blow up the little ground he had gained
for his gender.

Though Louisa Phillips professed to eschew
the strictures of society, Harry was determined not to blacken her
reputation.

He tuned his attention to the matter of
securing a room at an inn. Since the rain had seriously impeded
their progress, they would probably be forced to spend several
nights in posting inns. How were they to do that while sparing her
reputation?

An idea came to him, but he knew the widow
would not like it.

He apprised her of it when she awoke. He had
watched her awaken, gathering the rug tightly about her as she
pulled herself to a sitting position. When she looked across at
him, she blushed. Did the prospect of a man watching her sleep
cause her embarrassment?

"Rather cold, is it not?" he said
casually.

"Would that we had a hot brick," she
lamented. "But I should not be so selfish when the poor coachman
has none of the luxuries we enjoy."

"Do you always direct your thoughts to the
plight of others who are less fortunate than you?"

She gave him a most straightforward stare.
"Someone must, my lord."

"And you prefer that someone be a person in
a position to do something to evoke change?"

"Of course. That's what I've worked toward
for a very long time."

"And I shall be your instrument."

She nodded. He liked the way her blue eyes
danced like those of a child impatient to open a present.

"Are you not exceedingly cold without a rug,
my lord?"

His pulse quickened as he thought of sitting
next to her, sharing her rug. "It is rather unpleasant."

"Then you thought to share the rug with
me?"

A coy smile slanted across his face. "I
did."

He enjoyed watching the guilt wash over
her.

"Very well," she said with reluctance. "You
may move to this side, but I will not have any part of you touching
me. Is that clear?"

"Like a bell, madam," he said as he stood to
a stooped position and moved to her seat.

"I believe we need to
discuss the matter of rooms at the inn," he said. "I know you don't
care a fig about the opinion of the
ton
, but you need to realize that in
order to work with them you have to earn their respect."

"What does that have to do with rooms at the
inn?"

"Were it to be discovered that we traveled
together, I fear your good name would be ruined."

She gazed at him through narrowed eyes.
"What, then, do you propose, my lord?"

"That we use other names. Registering as,
say, a Mr. and Mrs. Smith would neither attract attention nor draw
scrutiny. On the other hand, were we to secure separate rooms under
other names, any intercourse between us would be sure to draw
censure."

Her eyes rounded. "You're proposing that we
sleep together?" There was disbelief and irritation in her
voice.

"I promise not to touch."

"And I'm supposed to trust you?" she
questioned. "My dear Lord Wycliff, you are a man, and I've yet to
find one worthy of trust."

"I don't know what else I can say or do to
warrant your acceptance."

"The matter is out of your hands."

He leaned back into the window, allowing
cold air to rush beneath the rug in the gap between them.