Earl of Baxter (Lords of Scandal 8)

Someone grabbed his boot and began to pull him from the carriage. He looked over his shoulder to see Goldthwaite tugging at his leg. Mason just managed to reach up with one hand and grasped the grab handle meant for passengers to hold when the carriage really began to sway. “We’re just talking,” he gritted out.

“Mason,” Bash yelled. “Get out of the carriage already. You promised.”

He had. But he hadn’t meant it. “I just need a few minutes.”

Goldthwaite stopped pulling. “You’re going to be dead in five seconds if you don’t get out of that carriage.”

Mason shook his head. He was still holding one of Clarissa’s hands with his free one. He looked deep into her blue eyes, which had widened with fear and swore under his breath. No wonder she didn’t want to tell him anything. He’d scared her near to death.

Mason slowly let go of her hand, sliding her gloved fingers through his. “I’m getting out.” He drew in a deep breath. Damn, he’d made a complete mess of this. “Clarissa.”

“Don’t.” Goldthwaite pulled on his foot again. “Don’t ever speak to her again.”

His chest tightened.

He supposed this meant she was protected. That was what he’d wanted.

A chilly wave of disappointment coursed through him. Six years he’d looked for her. Searching registries, asking priests and nuns. How could this be the end of all that? Sure, he hadn’t pictured the beautiful woman before him but he had envisioned her in his life. Somehow, he’d always believed that with her, he’d be…better. Whole. He needed to get to know her and to have some sort of relationship with this woman.

Hell. If Goldthwaite would let go, he’d marry her.

The realization jolted through him, but along with it came a calm. That would be the ultimate form of protection, and honestly, completion of the onslaught of feelings coursing through him.

“Goldthwaite. I’m the man you sent searching for Penny in the snow, remember?” He didn’t let go of the strap. “I’d never hurt Clarissa.”

“How do you know her name?” Goldthwaite asked.

“He thinks he knows me,” came Clarissa’s quiet voice. “But he’s wrong.”

“Wolf,” the littlest girl inserted.

He shook his head. “No.” He looked at Natty then. “I’m not the wolf. I already told you. I’m the huntsman.” He’d sent that priest away for her. He’d always protect her. Always.

Natty’s eyes widened and suddenly she was sliding down on the carriage floor too. Which left absolutely no room for anyone to move.

Then she leaned forward and studied his face, turning this way and that. Finally, little fingers pried up his eyelid, as she studied his eyeball.

“He’s right,” she finally said, letting the skin go. “There’s no wolf in there.”

He couldn’t help it. It was funny. And this little girl was an unlikely ally and a chuckle burst from his chest. “Thank you.”

She nodded, then she pointed to his cane, currently on the seat of the carriage. “That’s not a very good weapon. You should have an axe. Or at least a sword.”

Even Goldthwaite had stopped spitting and growling as he plucked the child from the floor and swung her into his arms. “Natty. He’s not a real huntsman, he’s an earl. A strange one but an earl nonetheless.”

“An earl?” Natty asked. “Like you?”

“That’s right.” Goldthwaite reached his hand out to the next child, pulling her from the carriage too.

Natty tapped his shoulder. “Is he going to marry Clarissa the way you married Penny?”

Both Clarissa and Goldthwaite quickly and emphatically expelled the word “No,” as he pulled the third child from the carriage. Then he grabbed Clarissa’s hand and started attempting to maneuver the sitting woman from the carriage floor with one hand.

Mason knew he looked ridiculous. He still held the handle with one hand, and one leg had been half pulled from the carriage. And his large body mostly held Clari

ssa in her spot on the floor. “Stop pulling, Goldthwaite,” he said, much of his calm returning. “I’ll move in just a moment and then you can get her out.”

He knew where she lived. He understood who she was even if she denied it. There would be other chances. He’d make certain of that. They needed more time. Did she truly not recognize him? He needed to find out.