How Not To Marry An Earl. Christine Merrill
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he could see a resemblance. They shared the same wide brow and pointed chin.
But where Hope was uncommonly pretty, Charity was not currently so blessed. There was something too grave in her expression and the look in her eye was too discerning for one so young. Though she was not a lovely girl, he suspected she would age into her beauty and become a rather handsome woman.
‘Were you sent to inventory the main house?’ she said, in a matter-of-fact way to remind him that it was not his job to be standing here, staring at her.
‘And the dower house, as well,’ he said.
‘There is nothing of value here.’
In a pig’s eye. Her response had been a trifle too quick and too specific for his taste. She had come here to retrieve something or to hide it. And people did not normally take the time to hide things that were worthless. ‘If the house is empty, it makes me wonder what you were doing here, halfway up the chimney.’ He gave her a subservient smile. ‘Is there something I can assist you with?’
‘Birds have been coming down it and into the house. I was attempting to close the flue.’
‘I see.’ That was an even bigger lie than her last words had been. But if he was claiming to be Augie Potts, he could hardly point fingers. Instead, he stripped off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. ‘Give me the poker, then. My arms are longer.’
‘That is all right,’ she said hurriedly.
She was far too eager to handle the matter herself. ‘Then, at least let me go up to the house and find a footman. A member of the family should not be doing servants’ work.’
‘That will not be necessary,’ she said, not bothering to try to charm him with a smile. ‘I think I have managed the matter well enough.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘I did not interrupt you before you could complete what you were attempting?’
Her lips tightened ever so slightly with annoyance. ‘Certainly not.’
‘Then, allow me to give you a ride back to the main house.’
‘That will not be necessary, either,’ she snapped.
‘But we are both going the same way,’ he reminded her. ‘Since I have never been to the manor, I would appreciate a guide.’
‘It is not possible to get lost,’ she said. ‘The house is barely a mile away and you are on the drive already.’
She was trying to get rid of him. He had no reason to care why, for he was as eager to be gone as she was to have him so. Yet for some reason, he could not resist annoying her. ‘That is likely true. But it would be helpful if you could introduce me to the rest of the staff.’ He glanced out the window. ‘And a storm seems to be gathering. It has grown darker as we have been talking. I would not want to leave you here in the rain.’
‘I can wait inside until it passes,’ she countered.
So she had not finished what she had come to do. Since there was nothing in her hands, it seemed likely that she was searching for something rather than secreting something she’d brought with her. In either case, there must be some hidey-hole in the bricks worth investigating, once he had got her safely out of the way.
He smiled at her. ‘I am sure the Earl would have my head if I left you here in the rain.’ Then he stepped to the room’s doorway and waited for her exasperated huff of defeat.
It did not come. Other than a slight narrowing of her eyes, she gave no sign that his attempts to thwart her were annoying her. ‘If the Earl wishes it, then very well, Mr Potts. I would never go against his wishes.’
Then she walked past him towards the front door, the terrier following obediently at her heels.
Charity Strickland’s day was not going to plan.
It had been bad enough to climb into the chimney and realise the niche she was looking for was just out of reach. To be discovered doing so had been even worse. Mr Potts was proving to be annoyingly clever, giving no indication that he believed her story about an open flue. He had pretended to, of course. But she suspected he was only toying with her, hoping to worm some piece of information out of her that could be reported to his master.
So far, it appeared that the new Earl meant to do just as she hoped he would, remain in London to perform his duties in Parliament. Should he suddenly decide to take an interest in her welfare, there was no telling what he might consider suitable for her future.
Whatever it was, she doubted it had anything to do with what she preferred for herself. As the youngest of three sisters, she was fed up with being dictated to by people who assumed they knew what was best for her. It had taken months to get the rest of the family out of the way so she might have peace to work. The last thing she needed was a stranger asserting his God-given right to control her because his fortunate birth had made him head of the family.
The season did not end until July and it was barely March. It would take only a few more weeks to accomplish her own plan. If the new Earl of Comstock kept to the business of governing, as he ought to do, she’d be gone long before he arrived, with enough money to set herself up for life in a manner that suited her.
But Mr Potts might prove to be just as annoying as the man who’d hired him. Though he had no right to order her around, so far he was proving to be a first-rate sneak. One had only to look at the dog’s reaction to him to know that he was not to be trusted. Pepper’s hackles had been raised from the moment that the auditor arrived. As they left the dower house, he was dancing along between them, biting at the man’s boot heels as if hoping to scare him away.
To Mr Pott’s credit, he had not given in to impulse and kicked at the dog. Perhaps he was not irredeemable. Or perhaps he had better sense than to abuse a pet belonging to a peer in full sight of a member of the family.
When they arrived at his horse, he stepped clear of the little black and white dog and mounted, offering a hand to her to help her into the saddle in front of him.
She smiled at him, wishing for not the first time that she’d inherited any of her sisters’ natural charm. ‘I could not possibly go without Pepper. I would not want him to become lost.’
Potts looked down at the little dog with obvious disgust. ‘In my experience, animals like this are surprisingly hard to lose.’
‘But what if this time is the exception? He might be set upon by some wild beast.’
‘You have wolves roaming so close to the house?’
‘No,’ she admitted.
‘And I am told there are no bears left in England. What else can there be?’
‘A hawk. Or perhaps an eagle.’
He sighed. ‘Next you will be telling me England has daylight owls.’ He held out a hand. ‘Give him to me.’
She scooped the dog up and offered him.
Potts took him by the scruff of the neck, nimbly dodging the snapping jaws and dropped him into the leather bag at the side of his saddle. The dog disappeared for a moment, like a swimmer beneath a wave. Then his head poked out from under the flap, offering something that looked rather like a canine grin.
‘There.’ Potts held out a hand. ‘And now, you.’
Gingerly, she offered her own hand and he pulled her up. He seemed to exert no strength at all, settling her on to the saddle in front of him, to sit on one hip. Then his arms took the reins on either side of her waist, holding her in place as they set off.
Though he showed no signs of noticing it, it was a surprisingly intimate arrangement. Perhaps such behaviour was common in America. Or perhaps she was not pretty enough to move him. He handled the horse as easily as if he