My Wicked Earl (Wicked Lords of London 5)

Climbing the stairs, she settled herself in her room to wait.

Chapter Twelve

Rex narrowed his eyes as he watched Petal disappear up the stairs. Was she upset about the events of the day or was something else happening?

It was well within reason that she was just worried. He hadn’t proposed yet, and she believed herself ruined. But there was something in her long gazes at Jacob as though she was trying to drink in the sight of her brother.

Then of course, there were the bags in the larder. He stepped in to get salt for the lamb and potatoes when he’d seen them. He didn’t mention them to Jacob, but he remembered what Jacob had said about Petal trying to run away to a nunnery. Ridiculous. Petal was a woman meant to spend the winter curled against a man’s side, not snuggled with a Bible.

“Jacob, would you run up and get my cigars. I fancy a smoke outside.” He pushed off the counter as Jacob, giving him a nod, bounded toward the door.

The moment the boy was out of sight, he crossed to the larder and grabbed the bags. Hefting them over his shoulder, he walked to the back door

and out to the barn, where he tossed them in an empty stall. Then heading back toward the house, he met Jacob at the back door; Jacob had his cigars in hand.

“Here you go, Rex.” The boy practically bounced on his heels and that was after he’d spent the latter part of the day tossing bales of hay.

“Thank you.” He gave the boy a warm smile. “I’m going to take a stroll about the garden, I think. Mayhap dream up some more investments for us. You should turn in, it’s been a long day.”

“Turn in?” Jacob shrugged. “I couldn’t possibly sleep. It’s been too exciting.” But the boy dutifully turned toward the door. “Enjoy your stroll.”

He didn’t light the cigar, its burning would give him away. Instead he walked into the dark garden and glanced up at Petal’s room. She sat by the window, still fully dressed, with her chin resting on her fist as she stared out into the night.

He knew the moment Jacob went to his room because Petal’s head jerked about and then she disappeared from view. When she reappeared he saw her pick up the candle and move toward her door.

He rose too and made his way toward the garden gate. “So you think you’ll run away, my little flower? Don’t you know that flowers have roots?”

* * *

Petal tiptoed down the dark hall, which made her progress slow. She held in a sigh of frustration. It would only alert the house of her movements.

The further down the stairs she made it, the straighter her back became. By the time she’d arrived in the kitchen, she swiftly crossed to the larder to get her bags. On the way, she set Jacob’s note upon the table.

Opening the larder door, she held up her candle but the floor was bare except for the sack of potatoes Rex had bought. “What the…”

“You won’t find them there,” Rex rumbled behind her.

Spinning around she saw him leaning against the sink. “Where will I find them?”

His eyebrows drifted up. “Let me be clear. You won’t find them at all.”

She paused, assessing him from across the room. It would help tremendously if he didn’t look so…male, leaning with his hip on the sink and his arms crossed. She had the overwhelming urge to run into his arms and bury her face in his chest. “Please be reasonable. I’m doing everyone a favor. His Grace won’t have a ruined sister to contend with, Jacob won’t have to supply me with a dowry.” Her vision blurred. “You’ll be able to return to Barbados post haste.”

He let out a deep groan. “I’d feel better if at any point you yelled at me.”

Would he? A little of the anger she pushed down earlier bubbled up beneath the surface. “Fine. You’re a stupid man for picking a public fight with Rathemore and then saying my name while you did it. Better?”

“Are you sure you’re not just punishing me by running away?” He shoved off the sink and came toward her.

“Punishing you?” she huffed. “You are a vain one. I’m doing what’s best for everyone.”

He kept moving toward her. She couldn’t back up, then she’d be trapped in the larder so she tried to scoot to the side but his hand snaked out and grabbed her waist. “I likely am. And while vain, I am also gentleman enough to—”

“Gentleman? On our first meeting you declared yourself a rake.” She grabbed his hand intent upon pushing it away. But the heat of it warmed her and tears she didn’t think she had left sprang to her eyes.

He pulled her close as he wrapped his other arm about her. “I was a rake in that I had no intention of marrying and I kept my arrangements with women light and easy. I’ll not deny it. But I’m not a man like Rathemore. I would never trick a young lady into being with me nor would I ever leave an honorable woman to face a situation I’d created.”

She shook her head, her face rubbing against his chest. “You didn’t create it. I did. When I let him put his grubby hands on my—”