Page 4 of Their Brazen Countess
“Good God, Arthur. Are you hallucinating from the cold?” The taller one seemed truly concerned for a moment.
The dark-haired one, Arthur, growled and pushed his friend away. “Bugger off, you lob cock. I’m not bloody hallucinating, I tell you I heard someone snickering.” He turned and faced the bushes where Jo still crouched. “Whoever you are, come out right now.”
She did no such thing, staying where she was. She didn’t know who these men were and had no intention of gaining that knowledge by exposing herself.
With her naughty book clutched to her chest, Jo squatted lower behind the bush, hoping her dull green cloak would blend in with the foliage and branches. Though…the men were very handsome. Her mind drifted to the scene in her book where two men kissed as Polly watched. Her breath hitched as she imagined these two men kissing.
Only then did she notice a little tickle on her nose.
Oh, no.
She wrinkled it and wriggled it, trying to make the sensation stop without moving her arm. Finally, it seemed to cease.
Then the tall one sighed. “Really, you can stop the charade. We’re in the middle of nowhere. There isn’t a soul here but us.”
“Achoo!” The sneeze burst out of her, declared Jo’s presence as assuredly as if she’d sprang up dancing from behind the bush. The force of her body’s reaction caused her to topple over onto her backside, dropping her book, feet shooting forward, and making the bush shake.
“What was that?” the tall one blurted out.
“Bloody hell!” sounded Arthur at the same time.
Jo had just gotten to her knees and was struggling to get to her feet in the snow when two pairs of black boots appeared in her vision. Without looking up, she sighed. “I don’t suppose you two would consider ignoring me and carrying on with whatever you were doing here?”
A rather large hand appeared in her field of vision.
“And leave a lady in obvious distress? I think not.” The tall one waited patiently, waiting for her to take his proffered assistance.
Eventually good manners won out, and she took his hand.
The unnamed man appeared fashionably lean and trim, but he pulled her up with an ease belied by the superior cut of his winter coat. No reedy waif, she was the picture of the ideal Victorian woman with her ample breasts and full curves. Despite that, she had a tendency to shun a tightly cinched corset, and…well, she hadn’t often heard herself described as attractive. At least, not by the men she’d been exposed to in her life, such as her deceased husband.
The man steadied her by holding her shoulders, and she couldn’t deny the shiver of awareness that skated down her spine as she finally looked up. His pale blue eyes seemed to devour her as she stood there, caught in his thrall. Standing securely on her feet once more, he released her shoulders and took a step back.
Jo felt the loss of his touch immediately. It was strange; when her husband had touched her, all she could do was count the moments until he released her—yet this stranger’s absence left her feeling almost bereft.How odd.
A throat cleared. “An interesting choice of reading material.” The man called Arthur was gazing down at her book, clutched in his hands—and open!
Mortification swept over Jo like a warm wave of air in the Pellingham’s cramped ball room at the last parish dance. She was certain her face had turned a hideous shade of red, but alas there was little she could do about it—with the exception of shoving her head into the nearest snow bank. “Do not be rude, sir, that is not your book.”
“I was merely conveying the fascinating nature of your choice of reading materials.” He looked up at her. “Particularly for someone such as yourself.”
She let her head tip to the side a little. Curiosity had words bubbling from her lips. “Someone such as me? How so?”
The man’s cheeks reddened, and she suspected it had little to do with the cold. He cleared his throat. “Um…well. Someone who looks so young and lovely. And obviously gently reared.”
Her heart stalled in her chest at the word lovely, and then she laughed. Loud and long. When she finally caught her breath Jo managed to explain, “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else. I am neither particularly young nor gently reared. Much to my parent’s dismay I have struggled under the yoke of domestication my entire life. I appreciate the compliment, I do. But you, my good sir, are quite wrong about me.”
The blonde man stepped forward and bowed. “My lady, please let me set this conversation back on course. I am Marion Thomas, Baron Lincolnshire, and this mutton head is my friend Arthur Winterburn, Earl of Dunmere.”
She couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her. They were true nobility! And Dunmere—why, he was her neighbor. She’d known of him as a girl, had spied on him more than once when he was swimming. But they had never met since his family was so rarely in residence and even when they were, he was so much older than her. The boy she had once caught a glimpse of was now…all man.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” She curtsied. “I am Mrs. Josephine Marie Fulton. My father owns Marshall House.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” Dunmere swept a bow at nearly the same time as Lincolnshire.
“But I feel we are all going to be the best of friends, so you must call me Linc, as all my friends do.” The smile he flashed at her nearly stole her breath. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief which absolutely delighted her.
“Then you must call me Jo.” She couldn’t hide her smile, nor did she want to.
