Marrying His Cinderella Countess - Page 10

‘Lord Hainford, Miss Lytton,’ Polly announced.

So he had come.

Ellie had known from the moment the idea had occurred to her that it was outrageous. In fact she had been certain he would simply throw her letter into the fire. But she had lain awake half the night worrying about getting herself and her few possessions to Lancashire, about how she could afford it, and how she would probably have to dismiss Polly in order to do so.

The loan of a carriage would save enough to keep her maid for two months—perhaps long enough for her to raise some more money and finish her book—and an escort would save them both untold trouble and aggravation on the road. She had written the letter and sent it to be delivered before she’d had time for second thoughts.

‘Good morning, my lord. Polly, I am sure his lordship will feel quite safe if you sit over there.’

‘Good morning. I feel perfectly safe, thank you, Miss Lytton. Confused, yes—unsafe, no.’ The Earl sat down when she did so, and regarded her with a distinct lack of amusement.

He looks like an elegant displeased raven, with his sharply tailored dark clothes, his black hair, his decided nose, she thought.

There had been no apparent soreness when he sat, so presumably the bullet wound was healing well.

‘Confused?’ Ellie pushed away the memory of the feel of his naked torso under her palm and folded her hands neatly in her lap.

‘I am confused by the reference to Lancashire in your letter, Miss Lytton.’

She had been right—he was not going to be reasonable about his obligations. Not that he would see it that way, of course. Probably he still did not recognise his responsibility in the way Francis had behaved. But why, then, had he called? A curt note of refusal or complete silence—that was what she had expected.

‘My lord—’

‘Call me Hainford, please, Miss Lytton. I feel as though I am at a meeting being addressed if you keep my-lording me.’

I will not blush. And if I do it will be from irritation, not embarrassment.

‘Hainford. My brother was your devoted disciple. He spent money he could ill afford copying your lifestyle and your clothing. He invested money he most definitely could not afford, and some he had no moral right to, in a scheme inspired by your dealings. And then, when he came to you for help and advice, you turned your back on him and neglected your friend for the sake of a card game.’

‘Francis was an adult. And an acquaintance, not a friend. I never advised him on his clothing, nor his horses or his clubs, and most certainly not on his investments.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you implying an improper relationship, by any chance, Miss Lytton?’

‘Improper?’

It took her a heartbeat to realise what he was referring to, and another to be amazed that he would even hint at such a thing to a lady. Probably he did not regard her as a lady—which was dispiriting, if hardly unexpected.

‘Polly, kindly go and make tea.’ Ellie got up and closed the door firmly behind the maid. ‘No, I am not implying anything improper, and it is most improper of you to raise such a possibility to me.’

‘I am attempting to find a motive for your blatant hostility towards me, Miss Lytton, that is all.’

‘Motive? I have none. Nor am I hostile. I merely point out the facts that are at the root of my disapproval of your behaviour.’

Attack. Do not let him see how much you want him to help.

It had been dangerously addictive, the way he had stepped in after Francis’s death and arranged matters. She should have too much pride to want him to do so again. And, besides, the less she saw of him, the better. He was far too attractive for a plain woman’s peace of mind—unless one had a bizarre wish to be dismissed and ignored. There was this single thing that she asked of him and that would be all.

‘Why do you attempt to recruit me to escort you the length of the country if you disapprove of me so much?’

He sounded genuinely intrigued, as though she was an interesting puzzle to be solved. The dark brows drawn together, the firm, unsmiling mouth should not be reassuring, and yet somehow they were. He was listening to her.

‘I am impoverished thanks to my stepbrother’s foolishness and your failure to him as a…as an acquaintance and fellow club member. To reach Lancashire—where I must now be exiled—I face a long, expensive and wearisome journey by stage coach. The least you can do is to make some amends by lending me your carriage and your escort.’

‘Do you really expect me to say yes?’ Hainford demanded.

He was still on his feet from

when she had got up to close the door and, tall, dark and frowning, he took up far too much space. Also, it seemed, most of the air in the room.

‘No, I do not,’ Ellie confessed. ‘I thought you would throw the letter on the fire. I am astonished to see you here this morning.’ She shrugged. ‘I had lain awake all night, worrying about getting to Carndale. The idea came to me at dawn and I felt better for writing the letter. I had nothing to lose by sending it, so I did.’

Tags: Louise Allen Historical
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