Chapter Four

Oh, that man!

Why did Lord Aldridge or Lord Foxborough—or whatever it was he called himself—continue to aggravate her so?

The heat of anger still burned through Lavinia's cheeks and chest as she marched away in the direction of the manor house. Now that she'd told the earl off, she should probably make plans to head back to London, for what else was there for her in Surrey?

How dare the man act like he had no feelings for Adam!

Not wishing to waste time by going back by way of the road, she diverted into one of the numerous fields that were scattered about the area. The breeze carried with it a slightly chilly tinge, and she wished she'd worn a heavier petticoat beneath her skirting. Then she remembered her bonnet had fallen off her head, so as she half-twisted about to grab the errant headgear from its dangling ribbons, the unmistakable squishing sound of a boot going directly into deep mud reached her ears.

"Drat!" When Lavinia attempted to move her left foot, the mud held it fast. Of course this would happen on that man's property. Why hadn't she given thought to where she'd been going? Recent rains had made lower-lying sections of the ground too soft and flooded in places. But she'd been distracted by Foxborough. "Argh!" With anger circling through her belly like a hungry beast, she gathered up her skirting and held it up past her knees as she thought about how best to free herself. If one of her boots was stuck, there was every possibility the other one was mired in the mud as well. I knew it was a bad idea to come to Surrey. "How am I going to get back to the road?"

"I am aware I'm the last person you wish to see right now, it appears as if you need assistance regardless."

A thrill zipped down her spine at the sound of his voice. Of course it would have to be him who'd found her instead of a member of the walking party. Slowly, she glanced over her shoulder as he came closer and then at the sun-worn wood fence not four feet away from her, he paused.

"Go away, my lord." Then she stared straight ahead again as if she could make him evaporate into the air by ignorance alone.

"I don't believe I will." The trace of amusement in his tone sent another stab of annoyance through her chest. "Do you not need assistance?"

"I…" What? He could obviously discern she would require help of some sort. Heat filled her cheeks, for she would not ask, not after how she'd acted not ten minutes ago, but she did turn her head to the right, where he waited at the fence. Dressing down an earl, for lord's sake! Had she taken leave of her senses?

"Yes?" The dratted man rested his forearms on the top rail, clasped his gloved hands, and propped one shiny Hessian boot on the lower railing. He was the perfect picture of a country gentleman with his brown tweed jacket, brown velvet waistcoat, buff-colored breeches that hugged his lean legs, and a beaver-felt top hat that sat at a rakish angle on his black hair. "Was there something you wished to say?" In the autumnal sunshine, humor twinkled in his coffee-hued eyes.

"You haven't changed," she bit out instead of answering his question, being certain to hold up her skirting. And neither had her interest in him as a man, for every time she swept her gaze over his form, tingling awareness danced over her skin and sent flutters scudding through her lower belly. "Still arrogant and mocking."

"Hardly." He continued to study her with a tiny grin flirting with the corners of his mouth. She used to adore that he did that, for she never knew if he was going to be charming, mischievous, or scandalous. "I am merely confident, and perhaps there is a certain amount of ego involved, but I would never mock you."

"Then what are you doing, staring at me while I'm in this bind?"

His shrug was the picture of ton elegance. "You haven't answered my question of whether you wish for assistance or not. After you told me off, I would hate to linger in your presence longer than absolutely necessary, for that might provoke you to violence."

"Well, I do want to throw my bonnet at you." How had he managed to sail right past the walls she'd erected about her heart and soul in order to plague her like an unreachable itch?

Finally, his lips curved into a grin, and she was obliged to tamp down on the urge to gasp. How well she remembered what those lips had felt like pressed against hers whenever he got her alone. "That would be highly improper, and I am trying to make a good impression on the people at this estate." He pushed his top hat a bit up his forehead. "Are you planning on spending the rest of the afternoon there in the mud or would you like for me to help you out of it?"

"I can do it myself, thank you."

One of his eyebrows rose. "Then go ahead. I'll wait and escort you back to the manor." Again, he settled in to watch with expectation clear in his expression.

Oh, how incredibly frustrating the man was! "I will." When she tried to lift her foot, it squelched with a shameful sort of noise but then the boot sucked right off her foot, leaving her standing there, clutching her skirting with one foot raised, clad only in a stocking. "Drat." What made it even more embarrassing was the fact that Elliott watched as she teetered, for standing on one leg like a stork made balancing difficult.

"It seems as if you are encountering problems." As he chuckled, she grew more annoyed.

If her cheeks heated any more, she'd burst into flame. "Instead of making jest of me, could you please come over and help me out of the mud?"

"I would be delighted to render assistance, Mrs. Greenwich." Only then did the earl come around the fence. He ventured into the mud, but then, he had the boots for it. "Forgive the trespass." When he put his gloved hands on either side of her waist and lifted her up and out of the mud, her other foot left the remaining half-boot.

Long ago, she'd forgotten what it had felt like to find herself in such close proximity to Elliott Thorne. Her heartbeat leapt into a quick rhythm and the flutters in her belly renewed their effort for notice. "Oh, dear." She met his gaze where humor still reflected. "What now?"

"Nothing for it. I'll have to carry you." With a chuckle, the man set her on the cool grass a bit away from the patch of mud. "You cannot walk a half mile back to the house in your stocking feet."

"I could try." Absolutely not did Lavinia wish to be in this man's debt. In fact, the longer she spent in his company, the greater the need to leave the property altogether. Seeing him, talking with him not only made her miss Adam more severely but it also brought up unresolved desire for the earl himself.

Why can he not stay in the past where I need him to be?

"Then your feet will be hurt, and your stockings ruined. I won't have that on my head." The pronouncement, made in his deliciously deep voice, sent awareness skittering over her skin.

Why did he have to be so stubborn? And handsome? And just too comforting?

For it was true. Something about the earl brought her a modicum of comfort, because he was familiar, and she'd known him quite well once upon a time. Desperately, she wanted a return of that friendship, but would that be a betrayal to Adam? There was no time to decide, for she couldn't stand around and gawk at him. Having him carry her to the manor was sound logic. "Gah!" She threw up a hand. "You win. You may carry me."

"Such a Drury Lane production, and thinking you're a highborn lady ordering me about," he said with heavy teasing in his tone that caused a grin to tug at the corners of her mouth. "Come here." In short order, the earl swung her up into his strong arms as if she weighed nothing, and with an arm beneath her knees and the other at her back, he'd well and truly overwhelmed all of her senses.

In silence, he began the walk toward the manor house.

Lavinia held onto his shoulders, which put her rather close to his body. The brim of her bonnet almost brushed the side of his face, and with each stride, the scent of him teased her nose. Always, he'd smelled like winter before the snow—evergreens, a touch of mint, and a trace of fresh air. It had always been the height of intoxicating and much different than the citrus colognes Adam had preferred. It was no less so now, and she had to remind herself that she was cross with him, didn't need him in her life, had only come here to make certain he knew that he'd been responsible for Adam's death.

Hadn't she?

Eventually, an almost inaudible sigh escaped him. "Where did we go wrong, Livi?"

The nickname that only he used sent flutters into her belly. She met his gaze. Shock went through her chest when nothing except serious honest reflected in his. "Today or years ago?"

One side of his mouth briefly tipped up into a grin. "Years ago, before you realized Adam was a much better man for you than I could ever be." The touch of melancholy in this voice pulled compassion from her.

Drat! She didn't want to soften her heart toward him but there was such uncertainty and vulnerability in his eyes, she unexpectedly thawed. Perhaps everyone deserved forgiveness… even her, for there was a truth she was too cowardly to admit to herself over the years. "He wasn't better; he was merely ready to be a husband before you."

The bald truth of the statement lingered on the air for longer than necessary.

"I could have been that to you," he said in a low voice.

"Ah, Elliott." Perhaps it was a mistake to use his Christian name, but they weren't exactly strangers. She sighed. "You were far too enamored of being a gentleman about Town, of reveling in the fame that came from being a war hero and then a spy. You hadn't come into the viscount title yet; you wanted your freedom. It didn't matter if I wanted you, and the kisses and exploring we'd exchanged wasn't enough to build a marriage upon."

"Did you want me?"

"I was infatuated with you, I think. A marriage wouldn't have worked between us. With Adam, there was love."

"But no passion." It wasn't a question.

Lavinia didn't answer him, but that was far too personal. For long moments, she thought over her next words carefully. What they'd had lay in the past. Perhaps there was no harm in speaking of it now. "Adam was there as a safe harbor from the white-hot passion that was between you and me. With him, there was stability, and I could breathe." That was how it had been between her and Elliott, almost as if she were drowning in his presence, an addiction of sorts to him, where clarity only came when they were apart.

"There is nothing wrong with letting yourself be consumed. Sometimes, it is the very thing that will put a spark to everything else."

"No." Lavinia shook her head. "I trusted him, knew he would never take a mistress. With you, I couldn't be certain, for women found you irresistible." Was that still true? "He was the man I needed in that moment, so I had to let you go." Would he remain terribly hurt?

Another long moment of silence followed. Then, "You made the right choice. Everything you said about me was true. I would have made a rubbish husband in those years, for my focus was not there."

At least he realized it. "I did, but that doesn't mean I still don't remember you as that fearless, confident young man I knew back then who wished to conquer the world." He had had plans and dreams on how to make England a better place for all, and though they'd been impressive, none of those plans had included a wife, for he'd only wished for a fiancée so another man couldn't have her. "There was no place for me in those dreams."

"There would have been if you'd thrown caution to the wind and had come with me."

"To the far-flung places of the world?" She huffed. "You know why I couldn't."

"Because I was a spy."

"Yes, but Adam was that also, and I married him." How to explain in a way he would understand? Women's reasonings were different than men's. "Adam wished to retire, said he'd only take a few more missions and then he would gladly be a husband. Perhaps a father. But you? You were content to remain reckless and charming and resistant to settling down."

"Ha. There was a certain excitement in all the world offered." The rumble of his chuckle sent delicious tingles through her chest. "I am only one of those nowadays."

Perhaps that was true, but she was well beyond his reach, and she didn't need the past to become entwined in the future—perhaps she didn't want to need him at all. "Rumor holds you're looking for a wife." Was it curiosity that invited that dialogue or politeness?

He snorted. "I am, but I am old, Livi. No longer a catch. I fear my chances of marrying are quickly dwindling, and I don't want a deb untried in every area of life."

That was understandable, and she tucked that piece of information away. "I don't know about that." She was all too aware of how close she was to him, and how lovely it was to be held in his arms and how the warmth of him called out to her. By willpower alone, she ignored all of that; it was for the best. "I wish you luck. No doubt there is a woman who cannot wait to be your countess. How did you become the Earl of Foxborough?"

"I'd worked a case—peripherally—with my sister's husband, Thad. It was a particularly nasty one, wherein Lily almost lost her life."

"Oh, no." She barely remembered his sister, having only met her twice in passing during various society events.

He nodded and readjusted his grip on her. "Then there was a case following where I had a bigger part, almost exclusively. The Regent was so grateful I brought it to a close with minimal scrutiny that he awarded the title of earl and gave me a substantial monetary gift."

"Ah, and with that you bought this property."

"I did."

"It's gorgeous, and a fitting new home for a new earl." Some of the ire she'd started the afternoon with had faded, but why? Nothing had changed.

"Thank you." By this time, they'd reached the edge of the back lawn. "The terrace is not far off. You can access both the ballroom and the library from it with no one the wiser for your situation." Elliott released her, held her steady until she found her footing on the cool grass. "Your feet—hopefully—won't be abused by the time you reach the destination."

The grass felt odd beneath her soles. "Thank you for the assistance." It was a tad awkward, but she suddenly didn't know how to interact with him, and oddly enough, she didn't wish to leave his company so soon. "Oh, I'll need to retrieve my boots."

"I will fetch them. It's only right." His hands lingered at her hips even though there was no need for his support any longer. Instead of releasing her, the earl stared into her eyes, and she didn't realize how dark brown those pools were, as if they were made of the deepest coffee or chocolate. "I hope you find what you're looking for while you're here. Also, I apologize for Lily sending the invite to you and Adam. No doubt it brought up memories you'd rather keep tamped." A hint of vulnerability shadowed his eyes, gone with his next blink. "It did for me."

How interesting. "I haven't truly allowed myself to grieve, not when I wanted you to know what you did—"

The remainder of her explanation was cut short, for Elliott kissed her. Immediately, the years that had stretched between the past and the present vanished, and with that kiss, she was right back in London, on a shadow-shrouded terrace when he'd done the same for the first time during that Season.

It was every bit as magical as she'd remembered, and the old familiar heat of desire rose through her chest, filled her blood just as it had those long-ago years when she'd had to choose between the two men she'd loved. Barely did Lavinia let herself enjoy it, for he was the enemy, wasn't he? And kissing him now was surely a betrayal of Adam's memory. With her mind awash in confusion, she put a palm to his chest, then pulled away with a gasp.

"I should go." He was far too potent, and it was far too dangerous for her to continue spending time anywhere near him. Then like the coward that she was, she turned around and fled up the back lawn and eventually into the house through the empty ballroom.

Once behind the closed door to her guestroom she rested her back against the wooden panel. One thing was certain, those old feelings she used to harbor for him hadn't gone anywhere. In fact, they were more than delighted to be let out of the boxes she'd stored them in.

Damn his eyes!

She didn't want another man for it still hurt from when she'd lost the last one, yet… something about that embrace gave her pause. It had been different. There had been an edge of longing to that kiss there hadn't been before, a hint of regret or apology she felt all too acutely.

Did she even wish to stay and see what might happen or was it better to leave well enough alone?