Page 6 of The Earl's Heiress
“By kissing her and doing God knows what else?” the man spat.
Temple’s jaw clenched, his patience waning. The accusation was absurd, but he resisted the urge to snap back.
“I cannot believe you would go this far, Stanford!” a woman cried.
Temple’s gaze shifted toward the voice, and his stomach sank. Lady Blackwood, one of thehaut ton’smost infamousbusybodies, stood among the crowd. She was a relentless gossip with a tongue as sharp as a serpent’s fang. Lady Blackwood never missed a hunt, and, unsurprisingly, she was here now, eyes gleaming with scandalous delight.
He could already imagine how the story would spread—no one would focus on the fact that he had saved the young woman’s life. The truth wouldn’t matter; the narrative would grow more titillating and salacious with every retelling.
“Who the devil are you, and what are you doing with my daughter?” the man barked, his face a thundercloud of rage.
“I am Temple Grey, the Earl of Stanford,” he said evenly, holding the man’s gaze. “I was riding when I heard a horse bolting. Your daughter came into view just as the horse threw her. I immediately went to her aid, hoping the fall hadn’t harmed her too severely. When she didn’t respond to my attempts to wake her, and I couldn’t detect her breathing, I administered the kiss of life.”
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by murmured disbelief.
“The kiss of life?”
“What the devil is he on about?”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing!”
Temple swallowed hard, his gut twisting as he caught snippets of the accusations. They were outrageous. His voice was steady as he continued, “It’s a method I’ve seen used successfully to revive someone not breathing. I acted because I could not risk this young lady’s life by waiting to take her to my home and summoning a physician. Surely, by then, it would have been too late.”
“I say he’s making excuses for salacious behavior.”
“I agree. The lady fainted from his ravishment, and he’s trying to cover it up.”
Temple’s resolve faltered briefly as he recalled the unsettling moment when her tongue had brushed his. His lips tightened, and he refused to look down at the woman in his arms to see if she was fully conscious. She was breathing, and for now, that was enough.
“There was no ravishment. Upon my honor, events occurred exactly as I have described. I am certain that once the lady awakens, she will confirm it.”
He faced the crowd, their condemning stares bearing down on him. A flicker of temptation passed through his mind: to walk away from this nonsense and let them believe whatever they wanted. After all, what was one more foul rumor added to the ones that already followed him?
But a quieter, insistent thought stopped him:What about her?
Experience taught him that the truth would never shield him from thehaut ton’scruel judgment. He had been branded a deranged killer, and no amount of reason or evidence could erase that stain. But this young woman—a stranger, delicate and defenseless—would face the same fate if he left her to the wolves. Society would shred her reputation without hesitation, just as they had done to him.
Temple’s jaw tightened, and he resolved not to abandon her to this cruel fate. Somehow, he would protect her. At that precise moment, Miss Arabella gave a delicate cough as if to remind all present that she was still there. For all their concern, none had moved forward to check on her. Temple quickly glanced down at her. Although her eyes remained closed, he could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Another cough spurred her father and Lord Jarvis into action. They both rushed over. Temple handed her over, and her father gently took her slight weight into his arms.
“Bella, dear, can you hear me?”
Her eyes flickered open momentarily. When she shut her eyes, this time they remained closed.
“We must get her to the hunting lodge and summon a physician,” Lord Jarvis said.
“I will ride to my estate and have the physician summoned. Where should he be sent?” Temple asked in a tone that no one argued with.
“The Sterling hunting lodge. Thank you,” Lord Jarvis said.
“I will see to it.” Temple strode purposefully toward his horse.
“We will need to call upon you, Lord Stanford,” her father announced.
Temple’s gut tightened.Ridiculous! “I’m sure you will, but I understand that your daughter's health is your primary concern—as it should be.” He mounted his stallion. “I will be on my way.”
Temple rode off at speed toward Stanford Hall. He knew why the gentleman wanted to call on him. He had been touched by scandal, and though he survived it, it was rather unpleasant. The speculation and wagging tongues would tear his daughter apart. Her beautiful face had looked so serene, framed by tendrils of her damp, shiny, silky, auburn hair. When he pressed his lips against her lips, he realized how full and soft they were. She was indeed lovely, and it caused his heart to skip a beat.
