Page 22 of Any Rogue Will Do
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The next morning dawned, illuminating wet cobblestones. For once, Lady Luck was smiling Ethan’s way, because the groom who’d brought him Ezra had been only a few feet in front of a groom leading a mount for Lady Charlotte. Their horses splashed through puddles as he and Lady Charlotte rode toward the park. Fog lingered along the grassy trails within the park’s gates, lending the quiet space a reverent quality that he preferred not to break.
They’d hardly exchanged a handful of words since meeting on the street and awkwardly setting off in the same direction. Remembering her desire for silence in the morning from their encounter at the inn, he didn’t press for conversation. Since she appeared fully functional, he assumed she’d enjoyed at least one cup of tea already. The habit she wore fit snug as a glove, showing her assets in such a way that rational thought and blood flow left his brain for a second every time he looked at her—and he couldn’t stop looking. The modiste responsible deserved a hug and his eternal gratitude. Every curve of her body showed to perfection.
A small satchel he’d slung crosswise over his body contained a pair of breakfast pastries he’d packed for himself. Without a word, he offered one to Lady Charlotte, leaning his body as far over in his saddle as his balance would allow to pass the warm bread.
Another five minutes passed before she broke the silence. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He cleared his throat, not entirely sure what to say.
Before he came up with a conversational gambit, she said, “I have two orders of business to discuss. Have you something to write with in that satchel?”
“I do.” They drew to a stop, and he dug out a scrap of paper and a pencil.
“Write this down. I sent a query yesterday, and the messenger returned with a reply. Wallace Macdonell, the brewmaster I told you about, is expecting to hear from you.”
Grinning, Ethan scribbled notes as she rattled off the man’s direction and pertinent details. By God, the lass had followed through with her offer to help. Not a moment too soon, because Connor’s missive this morning pressed for a return date and news about the search for a brewmaster. Every day delayed, every setback they’d experienced was money wasted. Frankly, he didn’t have the funds to throw pound notes into the wind like that. He clutched the precious piece of paper. “Thank you, lass. This means a great deal.”
“Don’t thank me yet. The next order of business is more personal. I heard a bit of disturbing news about you yesterday.”
That didn’t bode well. “Sounds ominous. Gossiping about me, were you?”
She raised a brow his way, as painfully beautiful as she’d been in his dreams last night. “I think it’s safe to say we share a mutual disdain for gossip. However, these allegations are dire enough that they deserve an answer.”
“Dire, eh? Yet you helped me with Mr. Macdonell’s information. I’m touched,” he said, hand over his heart.
“I didn’t say I believed the gossip, only that I wanted to hear your defense. One of my suitors claims you tried to kill one of your friends.”
Well, there it was. He sighed, then navigated Ezra around a patch of late-blooming flowers. This was progress of a sort. A month ago, she’d have unilaterally believed the claims. However, with his dirtiest laundry hung before her, he wasn’t sure if the heavy emotion settling in his gut resulted from the accusation or her casual reference to a suitor. “Your, uh, suitor is catching you up on all the news you missed these past few years.”
“You don’t deny it? He’s accusing you of attempted murder.” Lady Charlotte gaped at him as if outraged on his behalf. That weight in his belly lifted a tad.
“Nay. A charge of attempted murder implies forethought and planning. There wasn’ forethought given tae anything back then. Not much thinking, period, if we’re being honest. I ran wild through London.” So much he could say. Explain. Excuse. Best to stick to the facts. A quick glance showed he had her attention as their horses plodded sedately down the path. “Connor planned tae join the army, you see. We grew up together. No’ best friends, but we ran with the same lads in the village. Anyway, before Connor got his uniform, he wanted tae see London. Everyone back home thought it a great lark when I inherited. I was showing off my fancy life, because I tended tae be an insufferable twit. I’m sure you remember.”
“And Connor never made it to the army,” Lady Charlotte said.
Ethan shook his head. “Nay, he didn’. We were drinking, gambling, actin’ the fool. Someone proposed a race. It was an asinine bet, but we were drunk. Rather, I was drunk and the one at fault. The carriage crashed. Connor lost his leg—nearly died on the side of the road beside my horses.”
Lady Charlotte pulled her mount to a stop. “That’s why you cared so much about my coachman’s leg.”
He reined his horse to circle back. “Aye. I’m grateful you had a good doctor.” It was tempting to reach over and brush the curl from her forehead where it covered the red scar at her hairline.
Her brows scrunched together when she was deep in thought, and it was adorable. He hoped she’d considered what he’d said, and heard the truth. “Where is Connor now?”
“Yelling at masons today. The construction isn’ going tae plan on the brewery.”
She cocked her head. “He works for you?”
Ethan shrugged. “He refused money, so I gave him a job. Connor pretty much runs Woodrest.”
Her smile rivaled the sun melting the last of the surrounding fog. “Woodrest is your estate, right? Everything turned out all right, then.”
Ethan went cold. No, it wasn’t all right. He’d robbed a friend of his career in the army, in addition to a limb, for God’s sake. Having free run of a rambling manor house was hardly a worthwhile trade-off. Yet things could have been so much worse. He cleared his throat, tamping down the emotions. It would ruin the morning if he went down that conversational path. “At least people can only accuse me ofattemptedmurder. I’m curious—who is your chatty suitor?”
“Mr. James Montague, son of the Earl of Danby. Our fathers are friends.”
He’d heard of the man—none of it flattering. Ethan tried to keep his expression benign but probably just looked bilious.
