Page 10 of An Earl Like You
The door opened. “The Earl of Hastings,” said Roberts, the butler.
Eliza squeezed her hands together one more time in a final prayer for poise, and turned to face her guest.
The force of how handsome he was hit her like a blast of heat from the kitchen ovens. Tonight his hair was tousled into romantic curls, and his black evening clothes made his eyes even darker. He strode in with easy grace and made an elegant bow. “Good evening, Miss Cross.”
“Lord Hastings.” Her face felt hot as she curtsied. “Won’t you be seated?” She perched on the edge of a chair to avoid crumpling her skirt.
He glanced from side to side as he sat on the sofa. “I am on guard this time, if any dogs are to join us.”
Eliza blushed and gave a nervous laugh. “Oh no! Willy has been safely locked away. I do apologize for the way he behaved yesterday.”
Lord Hastings smiled. There was a deep dimple in his cheek, and all those little lines around his eyes crinkled. Eliza’s heart fluttered. “I daresay he behaved much as any boy would after a good scrubbing in the bath.”
“Oh?” Flustered, she wet her lips. “I wouldn’t know. I am an only child, sir.”
“When I was a boy,” he said, his smile lingering, “I might have fled a bath or two myself. Not generally once it was complete,” he added as she smiled involuntarily, “but with no less fervor.” He paused. “He’s a pup still?”
“I think he’s about a year old.” Lord Hastings raised an eyebrow in question, and she explained. “I found him under a bush last summer. He was a tiny thing then, but he’s grown a great deal...” She cleared her throat. “Our head groom, who is very knowledgeable about dogs, thinks he must be a year old.”
“I never argue with my head groom,” replied the earl at once. “Wiser men are hard to find in Britain.”
Eliza laughed again, but less nervously this time.
“I hope he is faring well, after leading you on such a chase.”
“Very well,” she said. It was easier to talk about Willy than anything like politics or society gossip, and Lord Hastings was making it very easy. Eliza loved her dog and instinctively warmed to the earl for showing interest in him. “Willy is very fond of chasing birds in the garden. His utter lack of success in catching any only seems to redouble his determination to try, and he often ends up in the mud.” She wrinkled her nose. “Although sometimes I think he likes being in the mud, since it looks like he’s rolled in it from head to toe.”
The earl laughed. A shiver went up Eliza’s spine. Heavens, he had a wonderful laugh, and even more wonderfully, she had inspired it. “No wonder he needed bathing.”
“Yes. Although for a dog who likes mud and mud puddles as much as he does, Willy hates getting bathed. His tail goes down and he looks at me as if I’ve just sentenced him to the block.”
His eyes were still crinkled up in a faint smile. “I trust he forgives you soon after.”
“Yes, well... I might—I might have given him a bit of ham afterward in apology.” Lord Hastings laughed again at her hesitant confession, and Eliza’s smile grew wider. “The way to Willy’s heart is to feed him. Even Papa—” She paused; where was Papa? It was unlike him to keep a guest waiting.
“Is he a favorite of your father?” prompted the earl after a moment.
Eliza blushed a little. “Papa will never admit it, but I think he’s very fond of Willy. He accidentally gave Willy his name—it’s short for ‘will he ever stop barking?’”
“No,” said Hastings in open amusement.
“Oh yes! He said it every time Willy was playing in the garden—chasing birds, you know—and I hadn’t thought of a better name for him. I began calling him Willy to tease Papa, but then it just... stuck.” She made a helpless gesture with one hand as the earl grinned, his dimple catching her eye again. What a handsome man he was. And so kind and charming, too. She’d sat here talking to him all this time and not felt stupid or tongue-tied once. “I think Papa’s quite fond of Willy, but he refuses to admit it.”
“It’s very much his loss,” declared Lord Hastings. “Dogs are often better company than people.”
“Yes, indeed!” Eliza beamed at him in delight. “Very much so.”
He smiled at her again, so warmly Eliza thought she must be dreaming. Never had she met a gentleman so friendly and informal. She hoped he did a great deal of business with her father and came to dine regularly. For a moment some of her fanciful imaginings didn’t seem so ridiculous.
The door opened and Papa strode in. “Good evening, Hastings. Apologies for my tardiness.” He bowed.
The earl, who had risen at his entrance, returned the greeting. His face was wiped clean of expression and humor. “Mr. Cross.”
Papa folded his hands behind his back, looking quite pleased with himself. “Eliza, my dear, you’ve met our guest, so there’s no need for further introductions.”
“Yes, Papa.” She edged toward the door. “I’ll tell Roberts we’re ready.”
Papa waved one hand. “Nonsense. I know you’ve got it plotted down to the minute, and the footmen are standing ready to lift the covers as we speak. Shall we?” He swept out his hand.
