Courting His Countess (A Historical Romance Novella) (11 page)

"Me?"

She turned to look at him and almost burst
out laughing. He had his wrist pressed to his nose, the white lace
cuff trailing over his mouth and chin like a snowy beard. "I see no
one else here."

Half his face may have been covered, but it
didn't hide the disgust in his eyes. "This is why you need a man to
help you."

She refrained, just, from pointing out that
he was a man.

"What about your servants?" he went on.
"Can't one of them help?"

"They're busy and too aged for this type of
work in addition to their usual duties."

"You should replace them with more
able-bodied ones." He took a step back and she sighed. It seemed
Jeffrey was like his cousin in one respect. Neither liked to get
their soft, white hands dirty.

"Jeffrey, why have you come here?"

"To offer you the use of one of my men for
your garden."

He'd come just for that? Surely not. "No,
thank you."

"You won't need to pay me."

"No."

"But you can't do this on your own! Look at
you. Your knees are dirty and your skin is brown!" He sniffed. "And
that smell. It's disgusting and unseemly. A woman of your station
should be inside sewing, not mucking about in filth. Admit it,
Susanna, you're in over your head with those orange trees. I don't
know why you care about them so much. They take up all your time
since you came back here. You should have left them to die after
your mother's passing." He must have known he'd over-stepped
because he had the decency to flush and look away. He knew how much
Susanna had loved her mother. The trees were her legacy. She would
not let them wither.

"Thank you for your concern," she said
carefully lest the wave of emotion washing through her burst out.
"But I do not want your help."

He pursed his thin lips so that they
disappeared entirely. "Susanna," he finally said on a sigh. "Why do
you thwart me so when all I want is to care for you? As my cousin,
it's the least I can do. Allow my man to help." His gaze darted
away and wandered around the garden, avoiding her. "He's new to my
employ but trustworthy. And very strong, very capable. He'll do
whatever you ask of him. I highly recommend him to you."

Why was he insisting? What could possibly be
in it for Jeffrey? He wasn't a terrible person, but he never did
anything out of the goodness of his heart. If it had been anyone
else, she would have thought he was trying to woo her, but being
her cousin by marriage meant a union between them was unthinkable
as well as illegal. Perhaps he needed her to act as lady of Sutton
Hall for some important visitors.

Like his cousin before him, Jeffrey planned
on putting Sutton Hall on the map, or at least the map used by the
nobility with influence at court. Being a baron wasn't enough for
Jeffrey. He wanted to be
noticed
, and that meant having the
right people visit and ensuring they were entertained during their
stay. Phillip had been a natural host, charming and witty,
attentive but not sycophantic. Jeffrey would have a more difficult
time of it. He plodded through conversations, failing to grasp
subtle changes in moods or clever retorts. He needed a friend to
guide him through prickly political and social situations with high
ranking guests, which was why Susanna would be a terrible hostess.
She'd learned from her two marriages that being the perfect
gentleman's wife didn't come easily to her. She preferred her
garden to the ballroom and tending the orange trees to indulging
the whims of fat noblemen.

"Susanna, please, I insist. I beg of you to
accept my offer to help."

Insist? Beg? Rather strong words for a
simple offer. She shook her head and grabbed the edges of the pail
and dragged it along the path.

"Whoa, mistress, stop," a vaguely familiar
voice said from behind her. Before she could turn around, big brown
hands grasped the pail and lifted it. Lifted it! She looked up,
straight into the blue eyes of Orlando Holt.

"Where do you want it?" He gave her a smile
and a dimple appeared in each cheek. Now that he was closer she
could see that he was indeed older than she first thought. Those
dimples made him look impish, as if he'd been caught stealing from
a plate of sweetmeats. She had the ridiculous urge to press her
smallest finger into them.

"Lady Lynden?" he prompted. His smile
widened. The man knew what she was thinking. She was certain of it.
Curse him.

"Over there," she said, pointing to the
nearest tree. She watched as he carried the full pail to the tree.
He wore only a jerkin over his shirt, like her, but where her
clothes were big and loose, his jerkin stretched tautly over his
shoulders and across his back.

"Who is that?" Jeffrey said, coming up
beside her. "A new servant?"

"A vagrant," she said and bit back a laugh.
Holt had emphatically argued with her over the point only a little
while ago. She couldn't deny sparring with him had made her feel
more alive than she had felt in months. Odd how such a simple
exchange with a stranger could do that. She must have been more
desperate than she thought for witty company. It certainly wasn't
the handsome and charming male company she missed—she'd had enough
of that from her two husbands to last a lifetime.

"My name is Orlando Holt," Holt said,
rejoining them. A few strands of his blond hair had flopped over
his forehead but otherwise he showed no signs of exertion. He
nodded at Jeffrey in greeting. "I'm a servant here."

"You most certainly are not!" she
snapped.

He grinned again. Good lord, did he ever
not
smile? "I am. Mr. Farley has added me to his staff."

"You spoke to my father after I told you to
leave?" The insolent, devious...
vagrant
! "Go back inside and
tell him you'll not accept his offer." When he didn't move, she
took a step closer, but that was a mistake because it only
emphasized how much bigger than her he was. She came up to the
middle of his chest.

"I have offered my services and your father
has agreed to my terms," he said, his eyes sparkling with humor.
"He is the master of Stoneleigh, is he not?" It wasn't a question
that required an answer. The slippery eel knew that. "Besides, I
need the work." He held up his hand to stop her, as if he were the
master and she the servant. She was so shocked she didn't know what
to say. "Cowdrey Farm is too far away and I'm a gardener, not a
farm hand."

"Ha!" she managed, annoyed that he'd
predicted her argument.

He forked an eyebrow at her and looked like
he would say something more, but Jeffrey spoke first. "You should
have come to Sutton Hall. There is plenty of gardening work."

"There is?" It was her turn to lift a
questioning brow. Holt kept on smiling, not in the least disturbed
that he'd been caught out in his earlier lie. Had he been to Sutton
Hall at all? He said nothing and she turned to Jeffrey. She could
only confront one liar at a time. "Then why were you offering me
one of your gardeners if there is so much to do up there?"

Jeffrey blushed to the roots of his bright
hair. "Uh...I... "

"So you are the master of Sutton Hall?" Holt
asked when Jeffrey failed to complete his sentence.

Jeffrey adjusted his black velvet cloak so
it draped more elegantly over his left shoulder, and thrust his
chin out. "I'll ask the questions, not you. But I'll have you know
that I am Lord Lynden. I am also Lady Lynden's cousin."

"By marriage," she added.

"And so it should be I who provides her with
a man to help in the garden. Be off." Jeffrey flicked his long
fingers toward the arch. "Tell Mr. Farley you've changed your mind
and cannot work here. Susanna," he said, turning to her, "do not
trust this stranger. His methods are underhanded and his manner
impertinent. Take my man instead. Indeed, let me speak to your
father this instant."

She caught Jeffrey’s arm before he could
move off. "Thank you, but there's no need to drag Father into this.
Since he has already employed Mr. Holt here, I must accept. Thank
you for your offer, it was kindly done." And insistently. Very. She
was glad to be able to refuse without qualms. She didn't want to
find out what strings Jeffrey had attached to his proposal.

"You're going to accept this vagrant?" he
spluttered.

"I have no choice. Father is the master of
Stoneleigh."

He stared wide-eyed at her. The yellow
flecks in his eyes glinted in the afternoon sun that had finally
wrestled the clouds aside. "I never thought to see you give in so
easily, Susanna." He made a miffed sound through his nose, bowed
perfunctorily, and walked out of the walled garden. She went to the
arch and was relieved to see him gather up the reins of his horse
and ride down the long drive to the road.

"So," Holt said, standing with his feet
apart as if he'd planted himself there, "what do you want me to do
next? We have some time before sunset."

"You, Mr. Holt," she said, pointing at him,
"should not get too comfortable. I'm going to see my father and
insist he withdraw his offer. You lied about asking for work up at
Sutton Hall, did you not?"

"No lie, m'lady. The steward shooed me away.
If he lied about the lack of work because he didn't want a stranger
on the premises, I cannot be held to blame."

"Well, I refuse to have someone so ... so
... presumptuous working alongside me."

"Presumptuous? I simply saw a job that
needed doing and offered my services to do it."

"Mr. Holt, perhaps it isn't clear to you,
but we cannot pay you." She wasn't embarrassed to admit it. One
glance at the partially patched-up house and the sorry state of the
outbuildings would tell him money was scarce.

"I only require food and a roof over my
head," he said. "Do you have a barn?"

"The roof leaks."

"The stables?"

"There's no room." It was filled with crates
of jars and equipment for making their marmalades and succades.
Silver needed her space along with the small cart and tack.

"A spare closet in the big house?"

"You get above yourself, Mr. Holt," she shot
back over her shoulder as she passed under the arch.

His chuckle followed her all the way to the
house.

***THE CHARMER is available for immediate
download***

About The Author

C.J. Archer has loved history and books for
as long as she can remember. She worked as a librarian and
technical writer until she was able to channel her twin loves by
writing historical fiction. She has won and placed in numerous
romance writing contests, including taking home RWAustralia’s
Emerald Award in 2008 for the manuscript that would become her
novel
Honor Bound.
Under the name Carolyn Scott, she has
published contemporary romantic mysteries, including
Finders
Keepers Losers Die
,
The Diamond Affair
, and
You
Again.
After spending her childhood surrounded by the dramatic
beauty of outback Queensland, Australia, she lives today in
suburban Melbourne with her husband and their two children.