The Fall of Lord Drayson (Tanglewood Book 1) (15 page)

“Have you known her long?” asked Colin.

“Most of me life,” he answered. “Miss Lucy and me bruvver, Ben, used ter get in all sorts of scrapes. Pickin’ locks, racin’ grass’oppers, buryin’ snakes, and the loike.”

The earl nodded. So she hadn’t lied about everything. The rain continued to trickle down the window, and he felt some of his anger trickled away. He had come to know Miss Lucy as well—her quick wit, frank speaking, soft curves, and flashes of anger. Goodness seemed to emanate from her soul, which was why he could not understand the lies. What would she say if he demanded answers? Would she continue to lie, or would Colin finally hear the truth—the whole truth?

Lightning flashed in the skies, and a rumble of thunder followed moments later. The sound awakened Colin from his self-centered thoughts and caused his brow to furrow in concern. Where was Lucy now? Had she taken refuge in a shop, or had she ignored the graying skies and set out on foot? Despite her deception, she did not deserve to be out alone in this weather.

Colin immediately drew himself up, nodded his thanks to the man, and finally went in search of Lucy.

Lucy had walked nearly halfway home by the time Collins pulled the cart alongside her. After waiting in front of the mercantile for twenty minutes, she had run out of patience and began the trek home. Not ten minutes later, she regretted the decision. They gray clouds had opened up, dropping down rain that quickly soaked through her thin muslin dress and wilted her straw bonnet. Each gust of wind made her cringe and shiver, and beneath her thin gloves, Lucy’s fingers became numb. It was amazing how quickly the temperature dropped when the sun was no longer around to share its warmth.

“You’re late, C-Collins.” Lucy’s voice quivered from the cold. She probably sounded vexed, but her frustration wasn’t entirely aimed at him. The chilly walk had given her time to ponder on her problem, and the person she was mostly vexed with was herself.

The earl offered his hand to her, which she accepted gratefully and climbed into the cart. The sooner they returned home, the sooner she could wrap herself into a warm blanket in front of a blazing fire.

“My apologies for being late,” said Collins in a distracted sort of way. “I ran into a bit of trouble that needed sorting out.”

Lucy set her bundle on her lap and hugged her arms to her chest in an effort to bring some warmth back into her body. “What s-sort of trouble? Is everything all r-right?”

“It was nothing I couldn’t sort out on my own.” He peered closer at her and frowned. “You appear to be quite sodden. And frozen. Are
you
all right?”

“I’m not s-sure why you would th-think that,” she said, unable to keep from stuttering the words. “I am as t-toasty as a log on the f-fire.” Perhaps if she thought it, she would feel it. If only Athena would pick up the pace.

Lord Drayson shot her a look of concern. “I shall be sure to add a great many logs to the fire once I return you to your home. Perhaps I could toss you in as well, if you enjoy being that toasty.”

“That sounds q-quite heavenly, actually,” she said as another gust of wind whipped around her.

The earl removed one of his driving gloves and lifted his bare palm to her cheek. “Good gads, woman, you
are
cold.” He slid closer and swept his arm around her back, pulling her snug against him. He began rubbing her upper arm to warm her. It was a strange sensation to be so cold and yet on fire at the same time.

Lucy tried to move away because she ought to, but it was a feeble attempt at best. So she tried words instead. “Collins, I appreciate what you’re t-trying to do, but this isn’t s-seemly. You must r-remove your arm from about my p-person.”

“I will do no such thing,” he countered. “Not when it feels as though I am holding a block of ice.”

“I would p-prefer to speak of fire,” she said, deciding she’d rather snuggle closer than move away. He felt so good and smelled so masculine, like earth, hard work, and sandalwood. It reminded her of her father. A gust of wind swept past, going straight through her thin dress, and she huddled nearer to him.

“How is it you are s-so warm?” she asked. “The wind is so c-cold and you are damp as well.”

“Only damp—not soaked to the bone like you.” The earl continued to rub her arm with greater intensity and simultaneously flicked the reins repeatedly, encouraging Athena to move faster.

“I would suggest that you drive and not me,” he said, “but you’d likely run us off the road, and I’m certain you’d prefer to get home.”

Lucy knew he was attempting to distract her from the cold, and she was grateful for his efforts. “I’ll w-wait until tomorrow,” she said. “I must l-learn as quickly as p-possible so I do not have to w-wear that ghastly hat. R-red is not my color.”

“I beg to differ,” he said. “I’ve seen a rosy hue on your cheeks rather often, and it is quite fetching.”

“F-fetch is what a dog does with a s-stick,” said Lucy, not comfortable talking about her appearance, or the fact that he seemed to notice how frequently she blushed around him.

“Or what a servant does with a cup of tea?” he countered.

“Tea . . . that sounds h-heavenly too,” she murmured.

“Perhaps I will fetch you a cup when we get back.”

The lighthearted banter only served to increase Lucy’s guilt. Lord Drayson would not treat her with such kindness if he knew of her deceit. She didn’t deserve it any more than he deserved to fetch her a cup of tea. It was past time to tell him the truth and accept the consequences of her rash stupidity. But how? When? She didn’t know how to begin such a conversation.

Lucy felt trapped in the middle of a large, self-made muddle, and she had no one to blame but herself. Perhaps she should blurt it all out right now and be done with it. After he’d left her to freeze in the drizzle, he might go a bit easier on her. More likely, though, he’d dump her on the side of the road and leave her for dead, just as she had once contemplated doing to him.

Perhaps today was the day she would reap what she’d sown.

Lucy drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “Col—” she cut herself off, realizing she could no longer call him by that name. How she could have ever done so was another testament that she was not nearly as good as he seemed to think her. So she cleared her throat and began again. “There is s-something I need to tell y-you.”

A long pause followed, and his hand stopped rubbing warmth into her arm. He cast a quick glance her way but said nothing to encourage further conversation, so she forged on. “I have b-behaved very badly. Y-you see, I—”

“Purchased your seeds?” He nodded toward her bundle. “I noticed the parcel on your lap. What did you get?”

“Carrots, s-spinach, cauliflower, and p-peas,” she answered. “But that is not what I w-wish to tell you.”

“Whatever it is can wait until you are cozy and warm,” he said, his hand rubbing her arm once more. “I see the house now. We are almost there.”

Even through the murky gray skies, the dower house had never looked more beautiful or inviting. It beckoned Lucy the way the clear skies and warm sun had done to her this morning, only now she could not wait to be back indoors.

“Perhaps I w-will allow you to fetch that cup of t-tea after all,” Lucy’s voice came out as a whisper. “But only this last t-time.”

The earl said nothing. He merely pulled her body tighter against his and cracked the reins a few more times. Then he called out “Whoa!” and the cart came to an abrupt stop. If it wasn’t for the earl’s arm about her, Lucy would have flown off her seat.

Once he had steadied her, Lord Drayson jumped from the cart and swept Lucy into his arms. He left Athena and the cart where it was and carried her straight into the house.

“Georgina!” he called upon entry. “Georgina, where are you?”

“She likes being c-called Georgy,” said Lucy. “And she isn’t h-here, remember? Her mother is ill and needed her.”

“And now you’re going to be ill if we don’t get you warm soon.” He deposited Lucy on the sofa and tucked a rug around her before moving to the fireplace to start a fire. Several minutes later, it began to snap and pop, and Lucy felt some of its wonderful warmth. She curled into a ball and rested her head on the arm of the sofa.

“We need to get you into dry clothes.”

“We?” Lucy pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Her body might be numb but her brain was still very much intact, and there would be no “we” when it came to changing her clothes.

The earl rolled his eyes. “Tell me where I might find some dry clothes for
you
to dress yourself.”

She was too tired and cold to argue. “Top of the s-stairs. Second door on your right. And do t-try to stop commanding me.”

He hustled up the stairs and returned a moment later, tossing a shift and a blue day dress beside her on the sofa. She would have blushed that he had gone through her unmentionables if they didn’t appear so inviting at the moment. She would save her blushes for another day and simply be grateful.

“Th-thank you.”

“I will attend to Athena while you change, then I will try to figure out how to put the kettle on.” He was gone before she could thank him again.

The moment Lucy relinquished the rug around her, the cold air seemed to blast her. She didn’t waste any time tugging the curtain closed and slipping out of her favorite pink dress. Her damp shift soon followed, and she worked quickly to put on the dry clothes, all the while standing directly in front of the fire. Then she grabbed the quilt and dropped down on the floor, greedily soaking up the warmth.

As her body began to slow its shivering, Lucy’s thoughts strayed to the earl and how chilled he must be out in the cold stables, tending to her horse when he should be back home in Danbury enjoying his family.

With great reluctance, Lucy pulled herself away from the fire. Keeping the quilt tight around her body, she walked to the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later, she returned to the parlor holding two steaming mugs of tea when a knock sounded on the door. It opened a crack, and the earl’s voice called, “Are you decent?”

“Quite,” answered Lucy. “Do come in and warm yourself up with a cup of tea.” She handed him a mug as he entered the house then returned to her spot on the rug in front of the fire, where she sipped the steaming liquid. It burned as it ran down her throat, but the soothing, warming effects made her sigh.

“Would you prefer to sit on the sofa?” asked the earl, leaning a shoulder against the doorway as he took a sip of his tea. His hair was damp, his face was beginning to show a day’s worth of growth, and his eyes were a murky blue that sent her heart to racing.

“I wish to remain exactly where I am,” said Lucy. “You may take the sofa if you’d like.”

“I am damp and smell of the stables.”

“That is of no consequence, but perhaps you ought to change as well,” said Lucy. “Dry clothes have made all the difference. I am feeling much better already.”

The earl took another sip before setting the mug on a side table and excusing himself to presumably do just that. Through the quiet house, Lucy heard his footsteps descend below stairs, and she felt another bout of that dratted guilt. He should not be going down to where the air was even damper and chillier. He should be going up to warmth, coziness, and a valet ready to assist him.

What was more, Lucy became keenly aware that she should not be alone in the house with him. What had she been thinking giving Georgina the evening off? Yes, her maid had been needed elsewhere, but she was also needed here at this moment. Lucy’s mother would be shocked if she could see her daughter now, huddled in front of the fire, all alone in the house with only the esteemed Earl of Drayson as company.

Sometimes Lucy wondered if she would ever acquire the wisdom that was supposed to come with age.

Colin stared at his reflection in the small mirror above the dresser. Now that he had donned a fresh change of clothes and scrubbed away the grime, he didn’t look any different than he had that morning. But he felt different. Older, much more knowledgeable, and confused by the emotions plaguing him.

After he’d left the inn, Colin had been ready to demand an explanation the moment he laid eyes on Lucy again. But once he’d helped her into the cart and she began shivering and stuttering in such a pitiful way, his heart had softened, and he found himself unable to demand anything from her.