Page 36 of Persuasions of an Earl's Daughter

It had to be, though. After the death of his father, he’d done everything in his power to be a lousy lord. From old clothes to ignoring his duties to travelling across the world in search of who knew what. When he finally returned to England and realized he at least had to ensure the welfare of his tenants, his journey and absence had helped him secure quite the reputation. That reputation kept him safe from obligation, safe from doing what the marquis wanted of him. There would never be a marriage, never be an heir. And August would never be a father. Ever. He’d made certain of that.

He made his way downstairs to find Klara and Astrid huddled in the kitchen.

Klara offered a sly smile. “Your wife is well rested now, yes?”

Somehow, he kept his expression neutral. If he’d have known bringing her to orgasm would put her to sleep, he might have been tempted to do it sooner to keep the hellion under control. “She is, thank you. Your lodgings are extremely comfortable.”

“We do so love—”

“—having guests,” Astrid finished.

“I need to arrange transport. My horse cannot convey the two of us alone and unfortunately our carriage threw a wheel.” He didn’t feel wonderful about lying to these kindly young women, but he wasn’t certain he was ready to explain quite what they were up to. It all sounded a bit ridiculous, really. Horse thieves and kidnappers was quite the fantastical story.

“Do you know where I might find someone willing to sell me a cart or carriage of some kind?” he continued.

Astrid looked at Klara. “He could try the Bluebell.”

“Oh yes, the Bluebell.” Klara thrust a thumb to the right. “If you follow the river, it’s the closest pub, and many of the men from the surrounding villages spend their time there. No doubt, there shall be someone willing to aid you.”

Astrid nodded. “It’s but a small pub, however, there’s always someone willing to help here.”

“Especially if you have coin,” Klara added with a laugh.

“Perfect.”

“What shall we tell your wife if she awakens?” asked Astrid.

“Tell her I’m going to find her a carriage.” He put a finger to his mouth. “And tell her to stay out of trouble for once in her life.”

Chapter Thirteen

Lilly opened her eyes to darkness. She blinked a few times, aware of the softness of the pillow and the heavy weight of the blanket. She hadn’t known she was tired until August put her to bed.

August.

She rolled over swiftly, pressed a hand to the cold pillow and eased up to sitting. After a few moments, shadowy shapes emerged. She made out the dressing table and the chair, the wooden box resting against one wall, and the picture frames adorning the walls. But no August.

Hand to her mouth, she nibbled on the end of her thumbnail. She should be grateful he wasn’t here really. How was she going to look him in the eye when he’d kissed her so intimately? She was going to kill her sisters for never explaining quite how much pleasure could be had from such an act.

How was she ever going to forget it?

They still had a horse to find, and she needed his help. Somehow, they needed to return to normal. He’d left her in no doubt he desired her as much as she desired him—beyond all reason. Yet he had not taken his pleasure.

It puzzled her. Here was a man with a reputation for bedding numerous women during his tour of Europe. The tales of his escapades, from bedding countesses to queens, were firmly embedded in her mind. But instead of even trying to sway her into bed, he simply tucked her in and kissed her on the head.

Lilly put fingers to her forehead and frowned. She swore she still felt that kiss. So gentle, so tender, so at odds with the fierce desperation of their kisses. Talk of August could well be exaggerated, and she should take it with a pinch, however, rumors did not get started on their own. There had to be some truth behind them.

Which made his gentlemanly behavior all the more confusing. She almost wished he was back to smirking arrogantly at her as he tried to persuade her his way was correct. At least she understood him then.

Flinging her legs over the side of the bed, she smoothed down her skirts and fumbled blindly about for a tinder box, giving up when she tripped over her boots. She slipped her feet into them, ignoring the laces, and headed downstairs. August could look after himself and she didn’treallyneed to find him. In fact, it would be better if she avoided him until morning but she should persuade him he ought to get some sleep.

Low chatter ebbed from the kitchen, and she followed the sound to find Klara and Astrid at the kitchen table, their hands entwined and their heads close. But no August.

Astrid lifted her head, released Klara’s hand, and smiled broadly when she spotted Lilly. “You must be here for food, no?”

Lilly considered how empty her stomach was and nodded. Food had been the last thing on her mind, and she knew why. How could she think of food when August had kissed her as though she were the very air he breathed?

Her experience of kisses amounted to a few sneaky pecks, one kiss with the vicar’s son who she’d eventually thrown mud at when she’d found out he’d been cruel to her sister, and some rather embarrassing practice on the back of her hand plus a kiss with an older man who thought because she was a Musgrave, she would be willing to partake in scandalous behavior. Needless to say, she had put paid to that when he would not cease touching her and the knee to his crotch was well deserved.

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